Friday, August 31, 2012

Guest Author Liv Rancourt

Why Romance?

Thanks so much, Dawn, for the chance to post on your blog. I’m gearing up for the Romancing the Hop blog-hop, and so have done a little reading about why the romance genre works so well. I think it’s popularity is due to two main reasons: a good romance allows for a little safe fantasy where the heroine always gets her man, and the stories follow a template that’s understood by almost everyone on a very deep level.

And in case you hadn’t noticed, the romance genre IS popular. Here are some numbers that I pulled from the Romance Writers of America website:
8,240 new romance titles were released in 2010.
74.8 million people read at least one romance novel in 2008. (source: RWA Reader Survey)
Romance fiction was the largest share of the U.S. consumer market in 2010 at 13.4 percent.
Romance fiction: $1.358 billion in estimated revenue for 2010. That compares with:
·                                                         Religion/inspirational: $759 million
·                                                         Mystery: $682 million
·                                                         Science fiction/fantasy: $559 million
·                                                         Classic literary fiction: $455 million
 (source: Business of Consumer Book Publishing 2011 & Simba Information Estimates)

That’s a lot of books. The genre has proven to be recession-proof (Washington Post) and has been thrown into overdrive by the popularity of e-books (NY Times). Romance novels might not get much respect as literature, but it’s hard to argue with the numbers.
People – well, mostly women, because 90% of romance readers are women – love romances.


I think there are a couple of things going on. To put it simply, the heroine gets her man, and that’s tremendously satisfying. In an analysis published by Psychology Today, Maryanne Fisher describes her study of romances and their readers. She’s found that part of the appeal of these books is that “the reader can live vicariously through the heroine and fall in love with the hero, but without any of the consequence.”

The standard tropes require that the hero start out with lots of rough edges. He’s an archetypal bad boy, and it’s the love of a good woman that tames him. To use Ms. Fisher’s terms, he’s both the Cad and the Daddy. In real life, guys tend to be one or the other, but in a romance, the reader gets the best of both worlds.

Without ever cheating on her (real-life) partner.

The caricature of the romance heroine is the helpless beauty waiting around to be rescued by the gallant hero. Not so much, really, especially these days. These heroines have always been an independent breed – they’ve had to be, to appeal to the Bad Boys they were attracted to. Now, as women’s roles in society have changed, so has the romance heroine.

Today's women—of all ages—are in search of new role models, fictional women who will help them figure out whether and how to balance romance with a career, leave a harmful relationship, or seize the opportunity for adventure. If that means literally taking up arms in the service of one's country or in self-defense... well, why not? Romance has always led us to imagine our best possible selves. All that's changed is our ever-expanding notion of what is possible. (Publisher’s Weekly)

We plunk these new role models into an established template, a meta-romance, a storyline that resonates on such a deep level that it’s easily recognizable by most readers. Consider the work of Christopher Booker (The Seven Basic Plots), Joseph Campbell and his Hero’s Journey, or even Karl Jung. They all suggest that there are established plotlines and characters that are intuitively understood. We see it in fairy tales like Cinderella, which is nothing if not a proto-romance.  The hero and the heroine meet and are instantly attracted to each other, obstacles arise and are overcome, and they live happily ever after.
It doesn’t matter that we know how it’s going to end. In fact, that certainty is part of the appeal. What’s important is that we’re living out a fantasy in a way that feels right. And having a whole lot of fun doing it.


Welcome Grace Wallance, Heroine from A Hunter's Angel

Please give a warm welcome to Cera DuBois and her heroine from A Hunter's Angel, Grace Wallance.

Please give a warm welcome to Grace Wallace from A Hunter’s Angel by Cera duBois today as we sit down and see what makes her tick.

Q: So tell us about yourself. What got you in the crosshairs for your author?
A: Thanks for having me here today. Hope you don’t mind that I brought Ian along for moral support.  I’m still wondering what put me in Cera’s crosshairs, too.  She tells me it was a line from Twilight: Eclipse that sparked her interest in us. I never read the book, not really into vampires—before Ian anyway. *Grace squeezes Ian’s hand and looks over at him with a sly smile.* I’m told by Cera that in the book Edward and Bella are reading a newspaper about a possible serial killer on the loose in Seattle, but he think it’s a bad vamp and tells her there’s a lot in her world that is caused by his world. Then poof! Here we are chasing a vampire who wants us to think he’s just a run-of-the-mill serial killer.

I have to tell you, I hate talking about myself. Hate it as much as I despise bugs. *Ian looks at her with a raised eyebrow. Grace rolls her eyes at him.* Okay, maybe not that much. *Grace shivers.* What is there to say about me? I’m the police chief of Clayton, Pennsylvania, a little town about two hours east of Pittsburgh. Before I was appointed to the job after my father died, I worked on the Philadelphia PD as a homicide detective.  That’s where I first met Ian. In fact, we worked on a serial killer case together and dated for a while.

I have a great best friend, my lieutenant, Ben Anders, who would like to be more if he knew I wouldn’t knock him into next week if he tried. He’s funny and we’ve been friends since we were kids. I want a family, but I love my job, too. I sometimes feel like there’s something else I was destined to do, but can’t figure it out. I love antiques, am fascinated with Ireland, where my grandparents immigrated from. And I hate to cook.

Q: What was it that drew you to your mate?
A: *Grace smiles at Ian.* What wouldn’t draw you to him? He’s super sexy, especially in that long black trench coat he wears to go hunting, and I love his dagger. *Grace laughs and Ian snorts.* I’ll let you all wonder about which one I mean.

But seriously, he’s smart and charming, when he wants to be. But the thing that really got to me was Ian’s compassionate heart. I’ve ever known someone who cares so much about the people he serves both as a FBI Special Agent in his human cover job and as a Hunter, although I didn’t know about that until recently. But I think what attracted me the most, at first anyway, was his voice. He has the most lyrical Irish accent. I’ll never get tired of hearing him talk. I’m part Irish myself, and I think his voice simply speaks to some deep-rooted memory in me.

Q: A little naughty fun, where was the wildest place you seduced your partner(s)?
A: Actually, it was in my bed. The morning after we made love for the first time after he told me he was a vampire. You remember that don’t you, Ian. My game of twenty questions? *Ian’s eyes brighten to a white-hot blue and his grin turns sexy.* Oh, yeah, you remember.  Anyway, we woke up, and he had to find somewhere dark to hide from the dawning sun. I was curious and turned on. He’s hot as hell first thing in the morning.

After he dropped the nuclear bomb on me the night before, I hadn’t a chance to think about the million questions flying around in my head. So, I straddled him and began to ask my questions between naughty kisses. Now, considering mates share their partner’s sexual pleasure, this little game was as torturous for me as it was for him. But I got my questions answered before I made him forget he ever wanted my blood.

Q: Boxers, briefs or Commando on a man?
A: Oh, commando for sure.

Q: If your partner wants to seduce you, what's one sure fire trick he can play?
A: He can kiss my neck where he bit me. It’s super sensitive, and I go wild.

Q: What is the one place on your partner's body that you know will drive them wild-in and out of bed?
A: The same place where his sire had bitten him. I discovered that little trick the same morning of my game of twenty questions.  He becomes a mad sex god when I nibble him there!

Q: What was one of the most embarrassing things your author did to you in A Hunter’s Angel?
A: I can only list one? Okay, I think the most embarrassing happened near the beginning of the book. The FBI just arrived on the case of our serial killer, and I called a meeting for us to share info. Up until that point, I’d taken lead in the investigations since most of the murders had happened in my jurisdiction—and I did have experience. Anyway, I voiced my theory that we had another wannabe vampire on our hands like Ian and I had captured the year before in Philly. Ian totally blew my theory to dust. I was furious with him. How could he do this to me in front of every damned police chief and senior officer in the area? Most of these men thought I had no place on a police force, let alone to be chief—regardless of me being an experienced homicide detective. Well, I lost my cool and said some things I wished later that I hadn’t.

Q: Anything else you would like to add?
A: Only, thank goodness master vampire Lucas Pomeroy took an interest in keeping humanity safe sixteen-hundred years ago after the demon made him. Just like in Eclipse, Cera got it right when she told our story. There is so much in this world that we don’t understand or are even aware of. If Ian and his fellow Hunters didn’t keep us safe from the evil out there, I’m not sure any of us would be here.

Thank you Grace for joining us on 'Meet the Character' day here at Dawn's Reading Nook Blog.

Thanks, Dawn, for having me.

Please find A Hunter’s Angel by Cera duBois at The Wild Rose Press.

The serial killer stalking Clayton, Pennsylvania, isn’t all that has Chief of Police Grace Wallace worried. For a year, she’s tried to forget Special Agent Ian McHenry and now he’s the expert the FBI sent to catch the killer. She can’t stay away from him, but something primal is telling her to run to save much more than just her heart. Despite the strict code of ethics Ian vowed to follow as a vampire hunter, he craves Grace’s blood above all others. If he chooses to stay, Ian risks losing his chance at divine forgiveness. But if he leaves Grace unprotected from the evil he’s hunted for over a century, he loses more than just his soul…

Website Links:
To Sign up for my newsletter:

Buy Links:

To find out more about A Hunter’s Angel check out my website ( for a schedule of my blog stops during the book tour. I will be presenting a series of short stories called The Vampire Encounters. Follow me as I interview Ian McHenry, Master Vampire Lucas Pomeroy, Vivian van Dyke Pomeroy, and have a scary run-in with Shane Chamberlain. Hope to see you along the way.

Contest: (Sorry, only USA and Canada residents are eligible for any prize that needs to be mailed. Non-residents and residents of USA are eligible for free PDF copy.)

Two Lucky Posters will get a PDF copy of Bloodwine. (for info on this short story check out my website)

1st Stalker Prize: Every Poster will also be entered into a drawing for either a custom-made pair of angel wing earrings, charm bracelet, or necklace (check out my website for photos).

2st Stalker Prize: Every Poster will also be entered into a drawing of a $10 gift card from either Amazon or Barnes and Noble (winner’s choice)—drawing to happen on September 1.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Welcome Lynda Kaye Frazier

What not to e-mail the president.

9/11 was a day that will be etched in our brains forever. You will always know where you were on that day and how our hearts broke as we watched those buildings crumble, taking all those innocent lives with them.  Well I have a hilarious story that I thought all of you would enjoy.

My oldest son was in college at the time, on a ROTC scholarship. He was still in the reserves with the Navy and I just assumed he would be able to finish his senior year. I was drinking my coffee at night and the phone rang. One of those call that make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. I knew it wasn’t going to be a call I wanted to take.  I answered it and it was John. He said his Commander called him and he was pulled back to active. I, as a lot of parents, was very upset. It’s not that I’m not proud of all my children who protect us every day; I just wanted my son to finish his last year of college first. I decided to pull the parent card and tell him that he couldn’t go. He laughed and told me it would be ok. I told him I was going to call the president and he laughed. I met George bush when he was governor of Texas so we were on a first name bases so why not. Well, never laugh at an angry mother. I was searching the web, reading all the stories and I came across an e-mail for the white house, not the president, just the white house. I thought why not. It would make me feel better and no one would ever see it. I figured it was just a generic one that went to a black hole. Well l I told our president that my son was not allowed to come out and play war with him. He had homework to do and stayed out too late so I grounded him for9 months. I made a few more motherly jokes on how bad little Johnny was and how he would not be able to play and that I would let him know when he was better.

I hit send and had a good laugh. Now don’t get me wrong. I have three children in the military and I’m very proud of each one of them. Their sacrifices keep us safe each day.

A few days passed and I forgot about the e-mail until I got a return. Now in the e-mail I sent I never gave my name, my sons name or what branch of the military he served in. In the return e-mail they had y name, address, phone number and my sons name, rank and commander’s name. I knew I was in a lot of trouble. The message was short and sweet they told me that My son did not need my permission to play war games with the US military because they were his mother now and didn’t need my permission for anything. I sat there just staring at the screen. Then I laughed, how funny. I called my son and he never said hello he answered by saying, what did you do mom. I just got a call to come into the base for a meeting.  I felt so bad I offered to fly down and go with him, and he laughed. He said Mom I’m 23, and don’t need my mother to go with me.  To make a long story short, he was asked to keep his mother from sending anymore e-mails to the president especially during a time of war.

Now when any of the kids orders change. Especially when my two boys went to Iraq they would tell me it was going to be ok, and to not e-mail or call the president. It would just make matters worse.  

When I was researching terrorist’s sites for my book I called my son for some information and he begged me not to look them up. He told me that I was probably on the white house list and they were probably tracking what I did and looking up bomb making and terrorist activities would get me more than an e-mail.

So now when anything happens, my kids tell me to stay off the internet.

 About the Author:

 I am married with 5 children and 3 very special grandchildren. I live on 70 acres on top of a hill, which allows me to view beautiful sunsets every night. Between the cows, horses, dogs and cats, there’s always something that needs to be done. But I love to travel, so it does not keep me from taking a weekend trip to my favorite place to be, the beach. Surf, sand and a good book, my stress relief.

I’m an avid Romantic Suspense reader. I fell in love with suspense books in my teens. I loved reading about breathtaking FBI, Navy Seals and Special Ops Agents that were always there to save the day and the girl, what teenager didn’t. I never thought about writing a book until about 18 months ago. I know it’s a cliché but it started as a dream. It was so vivid that I woke up and wrote it down. That’s how, Rescued from the Dark, started.  Book one in my ‘Guardians of Hope’ series. Every time I was stuck on a scene I would sleep on it and my characters would work it out in my dreams. I know strange, but I let my characters write the story. I am now working on book two, Last Chance to Run, and a contemporary story, Saving JT, which is about a single mother risking her life to save her dying son.

Lynda Kaye Frazier
Twitter- lynda_kaye 
Writing is my passion, Reading is my Love.

Rescued from the Dark.  Book one of ‘Guardians of Hope’ series.
Romantic Suspense
Set to be released end of 2012 
Published through Black Opal Books


What if you woke up from a nightmare, trapped in a world of darkness, with no memory of how you got there? Rescued from the Dark is a passionate, gripping story about FBI agent, Jason Michaels, confronting his duty to his country, and struggling with his feelings for a woman with no memory of their love.
Undercover Agent,Jason Michaels, infiltrates the terrorist cell and risks everything, even his life, to save the FBI intern who stole his heart, then walked away. Once Mercy wakes from her coma Jason struggles with the fact that she does not remember what happened, but anguishes with the idea that she believes their unborn child belongs to her ex. Jason soon realizes the terrorists vow to get her back to claim their secrets locked in her memory, no matter what the cost. In a race against time, Jason and Mercy struggle to fight their attraction, and put their differences aside, as they launch a manhunt to save their country and each other.

     An explosion ricocheted behind Jason Michael’s eyes as the pressure mounted in his head. The rush of panic consumed him as he struggled to move. He tried to swallow but his throat burned from the flames that engulfed his lungs.   He needed to breathe but he couldn’t, shit.  He strained to hear the muffled voices, but the pounding in his ears erased all hope. His head started to spin and he succumbed to the realization, this was it, the end, he won.  The flames were dampening and his heartbeat slowed. As the drums subsided their voices became clearer.
     “Give it to him now you son of a bitch. What were you thinking? We still need him.”
     A split second release had Jason sucking in a breath of much needed air causing stabbing pains to shoot through his chest. Every muscle fiber burned as the cold blast of air shot through his lungs releasing the oxygen his body craved.  He arched his back and raised his chest trying to pull in more when he felt the impact from the first blow. His head snapped to the side and the crack from his neck echoed in his ears. The pain jolted through his jaw as it raced across his cheekbone. Before he could gather his senses the hand smacked across his face again and the pain set his face on fire. What the hell? With the third slap his eyes snapped open. He wrenched upright with a lurch hitting his head on the solid roof of the SUV. Jason’s eyes darted back and forth looking for something familiar until he locked onto the ice-cold stare of the devil himself, Shaun Flanagan. Damn!  That was close. He could not blow his cover, even if it meant he would die as David Logan, and not Jason Michaels.   
     “You’re finally awake, my boy. We almost lost you that time,” said Shaun.
     Jason’s blood boiled as the vibration from Shaun’s cold emotionless laugh cut through his veins. 
     “You stopped breathing, I think. It’s hard to tell with this new stuff, so I slapped you. I hope you’re not too hurt because we’ve got work to do.”
     Jason’s vision was blurry, but his senses were sharp. Shaun knew exactly what it would do, and the burn in his throat was a harsh reminder. Shaun’s sarcastic tone spoke volumes to him. This man was evil and did not play by anyone’s rules but his own. Jason had spent the last two months undercover. Playing their games and doing their dirty work to buddy up tight to this family. He earned his spot with Thomas Flanagan, but his son Shaun, has issues trusting anyone, even his own father.
      Jason’s anger burned inside of him, but he couldn’t afford to make mistakes now, he was too close. It was time to step it up, but first, the drugs had to stop.  Dex, Shaun’s partner, controlled the dosage they used. Jason had witnessed how they would use an increase to eliminate irritations, and today Dex thought Jason was Shaun’s irritation. Jason rubbed his aching jaw with one hand and clenched his other into a fist to hide his visible shaking. He had to get control of this game before he lost everything, including his life

Welcome Kay Jabee today/Virtual Book Tour Stop

Welcome to my Reading Nook, Kay Jabee. Please make yourself at home and let my cabana boys/girls get you a drink.

Comfortable? Wonderful. Now let’s get started.

What is your writing process? Do you outline, fly by the seat of your pants or a combination of both? 
I am a very unstructured writer- so yes; it’s a case of flying by the seat of my pants and hanging on for the ride!
Obviously most publishers like some kind of outline or chapter plan so they know what they are letting themselves in for, but I keep these very loose. I like to be as surprised by what happens next as my readers (hopefully) are.
I usually have a rough idea how my novels will end- but not always! I have written to a strict chapter plan before, and I found the whole process very inhibiting. I got paranoid about keeping to the predetermined plot- never again!

What did you do before you were a writer? Do you write full time? 
I started writing back in 2007, and before then I did all manner of jobs. Originally I trained to be an archaeologist- which I loved- and then I took my PhD and became something of an expert in the Medieval English crime rate!
Since that time I have done all manner of jobs to fit in with first my children, and then my writing- I’ve helped manage a newsagents, made Welsh hats for the tourist trade, sold cheese, and been a business assistant for a well known conference supplier. Now my main job is being a writer, although I do have a part time admin post which keeps the money coming in between the royalties.

If you were going to cast the hero(s) of your book, what actor would get the part? 
Oh, that’s a hard question! The Voyeur has three lead characters, Mark (the voyeur in question), Anya, his PA and willing slave, and Clara, his Housekeeper and other willing slave. Off the top of my head I would say Clive Owen as Mark (he can so pull off the smooth and yet rugged thing!), Zoe Tapper as Anya, and someone blonde as Clara- no idea who!!

I know you're not supposed to show favoritism but who's been your favorite character to write? 
In The Voyeur, my favourite character to write about was Anya. She goes through so much bless her; from her first meeting with Mark in the antiquated Bridge’s Gentleman’s Club, through to the most challenging of all of the thirteen fantasies Mark desires his staff to perform. I just loved seeing how I could make Anya, the more outspoken of the two women, cope with what her chosen life threw at her.

Do you have a favorite TV show you can't miss? 
I very rarely watch the TV, but an exception has to be made for the modern BBC version of Sherlock Holmes, and Doctor Who (past or present)- can’t miss those!

If you could date any character from any book, who would it be and why-no it doesn't have to be from your books?
It has to be Robin Hood- always did love a bad boy with a kind streak- and there can’t be a Robin Hood tale I haven’t read!
From my books it would have to be John from Not Her Type; Erotic Adventures of a Delivery Man (OCPress) - unreliable, but hot- the ultimate bad boy!!!

Please share with us some juicy details about your latest release. 

Wealthy business man and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of thirteen fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite S&M club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff. His Personal Assistant, Anya Grant, and his Housekeeper, Clara Hooper.

Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy – Fantasy 13- can take place.
But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does the Bridge's Gentleman's Club, Anya's previous employer, have over Mark? A place Anya was only too delighted to escape from.

In order to find out, Mark’s girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them all over again; and while they do, Mark will watch...

The Voyeur is my second BDSM novel from the Xcite house. It, like its predecessor, The Perfect Submissive, is not for the faint hearted!
Set in four main locations- the mansion home of Mark Parker in Oxfordshire, his flat in London, Discreet (a very expensive BDSM club), and the stuffy and old fashioned Bridges Gentleman’s Club.
It is from each of these four basis that Mark orchestrates an imaginative list of thirteen fantasies for his willing slaves, Anya and Clara, to perform for him to watch- just to watch. If Mark begins to touch, then the girls know that all is not well.
As the novel opens, the girls are in the throes of completing fantasy 12. They can see the end in sight- but before long Mark announces that certain fantasies will need to be done again before he deems them strong enough to face his final dream- Fantasy 13!

His evening meal complete, Mark sat back, contentedly sipping his cup of strong black coffee. Pulling a small, battered notebook from his pocket, he read thoughtfully for a moment. His self-restraint, although immense, was beginning to run out. It was time for them to progress to the end of the list. Pressing the intercom button, Mark summoned his personal assistant, Anya, and his housekeeper, Clara, to the dining room.
The women arrived swiftly, both aware of the importance of not keeping Mark waiting. Standing on the opposite side of the highly polished dining room table, his employees braced themselves for the coming instructions.
‘I have decided that we will take a trip to Discreet this evening. We will turn our attention to the next fantasy on my list. Fantasy 12.’ Mark’s cool blue eyes deliberately weighed up the reaction of his staff as he delivered his news.
Discreet was the reason that Mark spent such a large proportion of his time in his London flat, rather than in his mini-mansion in Oxfordshire, where his software business was based. It was only at Discreet, the most exclusive of the city’s BDSM clubs, that his increasingly imaginative fantasies could be publically appreciated; most of which involved the observation of other people’s erotic aspirations. Mark Parker was the ultimate voyeur.
Trying hard not to exchange glances with her colleague, Anya could sense the stiffening of Clara’s body as they listened to their boss. She knew that Clara’s mind, like her own, would already be racing; madly trying to guess what Mark’s latest erotic scenario would involve. Having survived fantasies one to eleven, they already understood the nature of the challenges they were likely to experience during the evening that loomed ominously ahead.
‘Anya, you will be less delighted than Clara, perhaps, when I tell you that this trip is intended as a lesson for you; possibly a punishment.’
Forgetting herself for a second, the PA lifted her head and stared Mark squarely in the face.
His lips smiled; his eyes, however, did not. ‘You wonder why? Why, when you are forever questioning my instructions?’
‘But Mark, I …’ Anya stopped talking, aware that by asking why she was simply proving his point. She could feel her nipples hardening beneath her white shirt, as her employer continued to stare at her.
‘Oh my dear Anya, you may never question me out loud.’ Mark’s voice was velvety soft, yet the potential danger of disagreeing with him shone in his eyes. ‘But I know that you constantly query my actions by your reaction to them. Subconscious or not, it has to stop.’
Anya couldn’t believe it; she had always been so dutiful. The perfect assistant. The willing slave. How could Mark know she privately questioned her existence; her choice at being here with him and Clara, living this less than “ordinary” existence?
Clara was hovering uncomfortably next to Anya as Mark came closer. ‘Tonight,’ he said, pulling off Anya’s shirt and bra, exposing her luscious chest to the cool of the room, ‘you will both face a combination of experiences that together make up Fantasy 12. Won’t it be lovely to be able to tick another task from our list, girls?’
They didn’t answer; experience had taught them that nine times out of ten his questions were rhetorical.
Mark twisted the women round; removing Clara’s top as he did so, so he could see both his employees’ bare backs. There, in neat script, a permanent pen had been used to write “Fantasy 1”, “Fantasy 2” and so on, all the way down – the numbers following the length of their spines, finishing with the words “Fantasy 13”. The first 11 rows of black lettering had bright red ticks next to them.
‘Only two more tasks to go.’
This time the girls risked a fleeting glance at each other, exchanging a look of mutual blood-hammering exhilaration twinned with an erotic anticipation it would have been hypocritical to deny.
Mark, during his brief periods of leisure, had painstakingly detailed many lust-driven scenarios he wished to both direct and bring to life. He often wrote notes, accompanied by intricate diagrams of erotic, slightly disturbing, but ultimately satisfying fantasies, in a leather-bound journal that only he was allowed to read.
Anya and Clara knew that the final fantasy, when it came, would be both more difficult and different to anything they’d ever previous experienced. They feared it. They also longed for it. Mark was a clever man, for as each new task unfolded he pushed his faithful staff along with him, darkening their desires and needs closer and closer to his own. Making them as keen as he was to see how far they could go. To see how much they could physically take as they accompanied Mark on his journey of extreme sexual sightseeing.
A cold, clammy sheen of perspiration broke out on Anya’s face, arms, and breasts as Mark danced a finger across her skin. ‘You will both go to your room and change into the clothes I’ve placed upon your beds. You will remain there until I call you.’ Mark pointed to the door, and his employees headed to their small, twin-bedded room without a sound.
As she considered some of the things she and Clara had been required to do over the last six months, Anya privately reassured herself that the trepidation shooting down her spine was understandable and acceptable. It was also irrational, for she knew that Fantasy 12 might not only be tolerable, but enjoyable; and that just because the end of the list was in sight, it didn’t mean the night ahead would involve anything worse than she’d survived before. She could handle this. They both could – no problem.
Then Anya saw her outfit...

What was your inspiration behind this book? 
 I was inspired to write The Voyeur after watching a woman in a café, sat at the table opposite me, writing a list. She was very focused on her task, and I began to speculate what sort of list she might be writing. What if it wasn’t the usual shopping list? What if it was a list of far more interesting ideas? Before I knew it I was scribbling a fantasy list- a list that a voyeur might like to see performed in front of him…
In its original form The Voyeur was a two-part short story for the erotica web site, called Fantasy 13. The first tale was called Anna’s Story, the next Clara’s Story. It was 4 years before I had the time to develop those two early tales into the novel I always intended to write- but I made it in the end!

What is in your To Read Pile that you are dying to start or upcoming release you can’t wait for? 
I do wish Arianna Franklin would write the next in her Mistress of the Art of Death series- they are incredible- medieval mysteries that hook you from the beginning to the end.
I have also recently re-discovered the brilliant Nicci French duo, and am looking forward to finding time to read some more of their work.

Do you listen to music while you write? If so what are your favorites Artists and or albums?
I have different music play lists to listen to depending on what style of writing I am working on.
When I’m penning my usual BDSM heavy kink pieces, such as The Voyeur and The Perfect Submissive, I listen to Pulp, Dépêche Mode, Within Temptation etc- anything with excellent, but rather dark lyrics!
When I’m having a go at the lighter, more romantic stuff, I go with a calmer vibe- Snow Patrol, Adele or Dido, for example.

If you could go any place in the world and to any time period, what place time would you choose to visit?
I’d nip back in time to the East Midlands of England in the Fourteenth Century, just to see if the theories I came up with when I studied the period where correct! I would want to be hovering above it all invisibly though- a truly scary time, and not at all safe!!

What is your favorite super power and why do you want it?
I would like the ability to freeze people, then the kids that annoy the hell out of me screaming their heads off while playing outside my house might be stopped in their tracks for a while!! Okay- I wouldn’t really do it- but the thought appeals to my darker side!
Actually- if it was possible, I’d like to have an anti-thoughtlessness gun- the world would be a lot nicer if we all considered each other’s feelings.

If you could write a warning label for yourself as a person or an author, what would it say? 
‘Don’t listen to Kay Jaybee’s work on audio book while driving or operating heavy machinery!’  or ‘Not for the faint hearted- Kay Jaybee’s erotica is FULL ON BDSM!’

Do you have any guilty pleasures? 
Loads! The least of which is eating way too much chocolate…

Thanks for taking the time to be here today. I wish you many sales and wonderful reviews.

Thanks ever so much for inviting me along!! Kxx

Buy Links-

Bio- Kay Jaybee wrote the novels The Voyeur, The Perfect Submissive (Xcite 2012), and Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (OCPress, 2011). She’s also written the anthologies Yes Ma’am (Xcite e-books, 2011), Quick Kink One and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010), and The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2008). Kay has had over 60 short stories published by Cleis Press (inc. Best of Best Women’s Erotica 2, Best Women’s Erotica 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2012; Best Bondage 2012, Sweet Love, Smooth, Gotta Have It, Sweet Confessions), Black Lace (Sexy Little Numbers), Mammoth (The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica), Xcite (inc.Ultimate Sin, Boy Fun, Power Play, Threesomes, Finger Music), Penguin (Oysters and Chocolate; Erotic Stories of Every Flavor), Seal (Oysters and Chocolate; Nice Girls, Naughty Sex),and Sweetmeats Press (Immoral Views)
Find Kay at -


A Hot-Hot Greetings to all those in reader-land!

With Vixen Bright's and Zachary Zane's BOOK NOOKIE-A LIBRARIAN'S GUIDE TO THE DO-ME DECIMAL SYSTEM  about to be released we'd like to share the final excerpt from the beginning of each of the
books vignettes.  We hope you enjoyed and want to read more...more...more...!

A:  You know this is shameless self-promotion for our alter-egos, don't you?
Z:  Your point?
A:  Errrr....ummmm...guess I don't have one.  (Big grin)

The Story:

At the library, while the facially scared Kathryn Pines obsesses over books,Keen Edge appears out of nowhere. Looking exactly like the sizzling hunk on a book cover, he invites Kathryn to journey with him into stories, she the heroine, he the hero. Every lusty, luscious, whimsical adventure is overlaid with elements of bondage and submission.

Kathryn surrenders to the passions and adventures of four tales raging from contemporary to fantasy, and soon loses her heart to Keen. Keen, though, isn’t just a character in a book and his invitation to forever might be more ominous than it appears.

While seated on hide covered pedestals, lads and maidens, brought

food and drink to Keen and Kat as the festivities unfolded.

They knew each other as children, having been taught by many of

the same marital artists, but hadn’t seen each other since adolescence. They

were now mature adults, at the piqued of their strength and virility, and they

were more than curious at how the other maturated.

Kat sipped her honeyed spiced mélange, obtrusively taking in Keen,

her opponent. She flashed back to the scrawny youth he had been. She

remembered their exchange of smiles, neither aware of the barrier between

them until now. A joining could never occur for each would fight for their

clan, and only one could survive. Somehow, she couldn’t view him as an

enemy, for they had a warrior’s honor in common, and each would fight for

the exact same cause.

The woman in her found her studying the man he had become,

feeling those stimulating passions she had continually suppressed, knowing

all her focus lent itself to honing her skills as a warrior. This singular

moment provided a lull, and she was free to enjoy the allure of him.

She viewed with utter enthrallment the muscles that had thickened

from his expanse of chest and arms to the dense length of long legs. Every bit

of him was defined as if he had been born of rock, now chiseled to

perfection. Crisscrossing straps, festooned with spiked balls, mental claws,

and lethal throwing stars adorned a rugged chest, one she felt drawn to knead

and explore. Other bands laced his mighty forearms, also with an assortment

of small but lethal weaponry while a broadsword, honed from the finest

bronze, within its own hand fashioned sheath, pressed against his back. Not

that she was alien to enjoying the form of men, Keen, though, came to her

with a different fascination, one more oddly personal.

Longish, jet black hair hinted at bluish streaks while light gray eyes

boosted splinters of a dusky slate color. She felt those eyes looking through

her, and liked how they lingered in her thoughts. His cheekbones, one marred

by a deep scar in the shape of a crescent moon, nose and chin had the same

sharp edges as his body, all seemingly sculptured by a pristine artisan. Kat

found him handsome.

His hands caught her interest. Large and littered with small scars,

they appeared to have enough strength to break bones. Yet, as she stared, her

mind bypassed a warrior’s muse. She imagined those hands upon her body,

running down her arms, slipping behind her and squeezing her ass. She had

seen the beasts rutting in the fields, and discovered an urge to emulate those

beasts, to do so with him. The quick, sudden thought caught her unawares.

Yet that image brought her to the dark drape of cloth settled upon his hips,

just covering his cockage, which she knew hung free. It would take but a

breeze to juxtaposition the toga, she considered, to unveil that prize, and she

wanted to see. Even more, she wanted to experience the plunge of it, perhaps

feel it slide between her fingers. She sensed the impropriety of that imagery

but dismissed it, knowing she was an adult woman.

He looked away at one of the concubines, his stare devouring the

woman’s ass. Kat, knowing her ass was superior, clenched jowl. For one

brief moment, she sensed the uniqueness of jealousy. Why? She knew. In

some odd but logical way, because they were linked in this ritual, Keen was


At that instant, as if sensing his duty to her, his steely gaze collided

with hers, and as if knowing her thoughts, a grin somewhat reminiscent of

what they used to share, appeared. Did he know I was covetous? She smiled

back. I bet he does, and taunts for the fun. There it was, the playfulness she

recalled, as if they were once again those naive young ones, who kept trying

to best the other with no thought to where their reality would lead them.

Yet the grins only flashed, gone so swiftly one would wonder if it

they had ever been. However, what assuredly remained was his open

appraisal of her.

He didn’t care to lend himself to obscure observance as she had, but

instead claimed a brazen boldness.

At first glance, her long slight frame would fool many as to the

extent of her strength, but he seemed to see beyond that to the defined

muscles, not protruding boulders, but sinewy and tight. Keen understood the

hours of hard training and found himself sensing a resounding respect for her

physicality, yet sensing he was being yanked by the raw lushness of her

beauty. At that point in time, he mentally flogged himself for the words, raw

lushness yet they were apt.

Pride resonated from her awareness of a warrior’s strength; arms he

surmised could easily bear the weight of a bison’s calf. But power alone

failed to define Kat. There was a primitive beguiling honesty about her sex

appeal, not lost to Keen’s eye.

Her choice for her warrior’s regalement, unique for a female,

reflected the traditional male’s bare chest, almost metaphorically and

defiantly declaring I am more than woman, I am the warrior disciple of

Amor, goddess of Eros. Full unadorned breasts were round and perfectly

formed with a rich deep blush settled upon taut, perky nipples. Her waist

indented, her stomach was flat with slight definition of layered muscles.

Slenderness attached itself to her legs, but those, too, were fierce, hard and

adorned with more than a few abrasions and cuts, a testament to recent

training. A mace wound left the three punctures marks while parallel lines of

damaged flesh streaked one cheek. She, like warriors of her ilk, bore these

scars as badges of grand valor, offered only to the courageous and heroic.

Boots, harboring various daggers and blades, ended at her ankles.

Yet if one traversed in the opposite direction the mystery unfolded. His gaze

lingered at the joining of her legs where a triangular band barely covered her

twat. That and the leathery bindings laced up one leg to hold an assortment of

weapons from well-sharpened caltrops to throwing spikes to iron talons were

her only coverings, yet he wanted one scant bit of garment gone. Why? One

corner of his mouth ascended into his cheek, as he said in a low tone,


He tore his gaze away and he followed the curve of her upward. A

cord of leather gathered up long dark auburn hair into a ponytail that

cascaded in unruly curls. Smaller bands of leather, spaced at intervals,

gathered those wild strands, but many escaped creating a rebellious halo. Her

irises were exceptionally large eyes were as blue as a placid winter lake. The

rest of her features were pleasing, not arrogant or hard, actually they were

surprisingly gentle, a pink budding of lips, a slender snip of a nose with the

expected splattering of freckles against a sun dusted complexion. Any man

would see her as a desirable wrench first, one thrown over his shoulder to be

rough-hewn enjoyment. But that illusion would be a mistake, she was no


Keen couldn’t help wondering at the taste of her. Would her mouth

be sweet? Would her puss be the nectar of the gods? Would her flesh be

salty? He knew he’d never get his answers, but he couldn’t stop musing. His

mind ravished her. His lips tormented hers. The unbridled psyche of men

often raced toward a certain satisfaction every male craved. What would

taking her be like? His arrogance insisted it would be stupendous, as his

swell invaded her cunt, plunging deep and hard. His loincloth tented, and he

realized she noticed. He smiled proudly, and saluted her twice.

A lusty tug pulled at them, urged them to move closer. It was as if

invisible cords began to tighten, and if they didn’t comply, the cords would

force them together, bind them.

We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at (Write - Blog - in subject line) and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi KILLER DOLLS ~ SNAKE DANCE ~

Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane STEEL EMBRACE


Release Blitz and Giveaway~ Heart Stopping

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions . One randomly drawn commenter via Rafflecopter will receiv...