A is for Anorak

Sinful Sunday! And the prompt is A - ok so technically this is a Duffel coat but never mind :D

Oooh the joy of visiting a lover with only a coat and your lucky boots on! 

Click on those lips for more sexy pics...

Don't Make Me Wait

Sinful Sunday time again

*Blog update*

The gorgeous Big Miss Naughty chose this pic as one of her Sinful Sunday Top 5!

Want more sexy images?

Click on those magical lips...

The One

Masturbation Monday!

Today I'm sharing the beginning of a darker than normal tale. How the erotic can heal and show the beauty from within.
***Here's a warning though - it's about a woman who expresses herself through body modification. It contains scenes of scars and there's self harm so please read with caution if you need to***

The One

Tabitha Rayne

As she runs the tip of her tongue over the ridges – the un-natural ridges that I created, I try and hold myself steady. Try not to retreat inside myself and tell her to leave. She is at the first. She is going to go through every single one of them in chronological order, I know it.

I fight the urge to pull my black polo neck back over my nakedness and hide away.

“Shhh,” she soothes, her soft firm voice at once cradles and commands. “Let me do this.”

I wonder at her perception. She can sense the tiniest shift in my body, my mood, my thought pattern. It’s disconcerting and comforting at the same time and I sigh away my tension, forcing my body down into the carpet. She’s told me she’ll melt me. I don’t believe her but she seems determined enough.

She’s onto the next. Her hot little tongue flirting with the ragged bumps. The crass ones, before I learned to control myself. Before I’d perfected my art. Half of me wishes she’d skip those and get to the beautiful ones, but I don’t say anything, I just concentrate on unfurling the tight, cringing nerve endings that keep me bound into my own skin.

“This is where it started,” she’s onto the third. And she’s right. How can she know that? How can she tell the first two were afterthoughts, a result of a furious outburst.

“Yes,” I hear myself whisper, the tremor in my voice far too apparent. She’ll be angry. Will she?

“Yes, this is the one when you began to know who you are.”

“How can you tell?” I ask, curiosity suddenly dispelling my nerves.

“It’s smoother.”

I lift my upper body to study the arm she’s holding in her hands. It’s my arm. But today, it feels disconnected. “Only slightly,” I say, a little fearful of contradicting her.

“Yes, but it’s deliberate. It took time to do this one.”

She’s right of course. The first two were just angry slashes. A slice of passionate fury directed at myself. I had no idea what I was doing. The third had been a considered endeavour. I’d set out my tools (one knife, one cloth) and very slowly and carefully dragged open a long cut.

I had been disappointed by the blood. I hadn’t wanted that to happen. I wanted to keep all that in. I wanted the sweet release but not to let anything pour out of me. I’m selfish like that. What’s mine is mine. I keep it all in. I don’t even talk much in case I escape from myself. Let myself go. Say something needy, or stupid.

She moves to the next. Raised and smooth with silvery edges. It’s the same but entirely different. That’s the point where I began to learn my craft.

She runs her tongue hard across the red inner cleft and I twitch, sensations breaking free from the source and running across my skin – penetrating more than flesh. I almost tell her to stop but it is horrifically exquisite. She groans and saliva coats her lips as she mouths my scar, taking its length into her hot undulating pout.

I am getting aroused. The swelling heat between my legs brings with it a pulse that tweaks up to my nipples. She notices. Of course she does and flicks her eyes up to meet mine, just quickly before moving to the next.

Again she glides the flat moist muscle over my pulled and puckered skin. A moment in time captured forever by my art.

I remember so clearly when I realised that heat would seal my wound. I could have my release without needing an actual release. It was a perfect moment. Time around me stilled as if I were the eye of a storm when I ignited the flame to warm my blade.

The pain was searing and lasting but there was no blood. It was perfect.

She bypasses the long slither on my bicep and goes straight to my shoulder.

How did she know? How did she know I did that one after he had done what he did? It was nothing to you or any normal person. Only a man I’d once looked at. He hadn’t looked back and I lost my nerve to speak. I learned my lesson and never looked again. But she had known the torture it had brought and skipped that one. My wonder for her has doubled again. I feel something stir in my chest – a swelling that is mirrored in my throat. I feel I could choke as it expands and I have to gulp. I don’t express emotion well, and I am recognising what this might be. I do not want to cry. No. I have the urge to stand up and shove her off me, tell her to Fuck Off, but I lie still. Enveloped in static fear and arousal.

“You’re all right,” she says and her silken fingers wrap around my shoulders and knead at my clenching coils. I can practically hear the ping as they unwind and the ball of emotion slowly disperses. She smoothes her palms down my naked right arm. One day, I hope she may be the one to help with that side. The one practicality I never got my head around. How to make a perfect job with my left hand.

I suddenly stop and think about what I’ve just thought. I allowed her in to my future. I let it happen in my mind.

I focus back on her touch which is now just above my right knee.

She massages the lines and the muscles beneath. It is rhythmic and delicious. My mouth waters and my sex feels moist. I clamp down instinctively. She keeps rubbing, her fingers deftly working up each of my scars, making them more meaningful and beautiful with every touch. I want to open my legs. I don’t.

She is dangerously close to the very top of my inner thigh – the fleshy pillow that guards my cunt. I tense. She slides both hands in between like an inverted prayer and prises me open.

“Stop,” I whisper with my breath held so high in my chest I doubt she’s heard it.

Maybe she has. She retreats down and begins to kiss the scars on my left leg now, where they begin just above the knee. She’s about to reach my favourite one. My best prize. I remember the joy of running back to my apartment and getting my equipment out for that very one. I remember catching a glimpse of my own smiling face in the kitchen mirror as I opened the drawer and pulled out my knife. I remember drawing the heated blade so perfectly across the skin that I came. I came in my mind and I came in my body.

She’s at it now. She’s at it. I tremble, my flesh peaking and swelling at its own memory.

“This is my favourite one,” she says, and I gasp. I lift up onto both elbows and grin like a lunatic, excitement spreading through every cell in my body. “It’s so perfect.” I can smell the fragrance of saliva and arousal as I slowly slide my legs apart for her to reach the very start of her scar. “What’s this one’s story?” she asks, though I believe she must know somehow already.

“That’s the first time I ever saw you,” I say...

So there it is - just the beginning. A version of this was in Written on The Skin published by  Burning Books Press - which sadly is no more.

Remember to click HERE for more sexy stories x x

Half Done, Undone

A Sinful Sunday painting

Half Done, Undone

Hmmm just not sure about this - I showed the stages on Twitter - @tabithaerotica and it felt like being very naked - posting my paintings raw and as they come. I chose this one because it feels a bit more painterly - most people preferred the stage before without the white highlights. I kind of like how it has almost come undone. It took all my strength not to just go crazy and scrub it all out with the white.

Three ladies' Sinful Sundays inspired this painting:

Legs McGee - AKA F Dot Leonora - all her leg posts

Oleander Plume - (Ass)istant

Malin James - Watching

And this book - Chemical Sex

See who else is sharing themselves - click on the sexy lips!

Here's the painting one stage before just in case you missed it on twitter and are wondering what I'm on about ;)

Pre-Half Done, Undone

Elust #78

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Introducing... Enter Me

**Blog Update! - This was chosen as the one of Marie Rebelle's Wicked Wednesday's top three of the week!**

Hello there!

This week's Wicked Wednesday is 'introduce' - well I would like to introduce this new story to you all. It's included in Best Women's Erotica Volume 1 which launched on Jan 12th...

Here's a little snippet from my story, Enter Me...

Even before the crash I'd never been a fan of not hearing clearly. I tried wearing headphones to listen to music but it made me feel claustrophobic, isolated. I get the same thing with sunglasses. I can't bear them, they make me feel like I'm in world of my own where no one can reach me, like I'm suspended somewhere other than reality.

So that's why, since the crash, you will never see me wearing sunglasses or even a hat. Anything that cuts me off from feeling in the thick of the here and now has me panicking.

The crash left me suddenly and utterly deaf. It was the strangest sensation coming round. I felt like I was deep underwater unable to make contact. The sound of my own voice was muffled and thick, so alien and far away I screamed. I knew I was screaming because my throat was raw and nurses in blue cotton pajamas were smoothing their hands over me and petting me, their brows furrowed with concern.

That was over two months ago.

I still wake up with that feeling of panic. Sometimes though, I let myself lie in the morning stillness, trying to be as quiet as possible with shallow breaths so I know, for a little while at least, that I am choosing the silence. It is mine.

I don't know how long George and I will last. He must be sick of the bruises I inflict when he's trying to catch my attention by tapping my back. The shock! I have not been able to master the art of not being panic stricken by an unexpected touch. It's exhausting, straining to hear all day long when all there is is stifling black nothing. So disorientating. I saw a program once about a room that was so well sound proofed that there was no echo at all. When the lights were out, people could only last a few minutes before demanding to be released from the black hole. George said he thought he'd love that – he'd do anything for a bit of peace and quiet, he reckoned he'd last a good eight hours. I knew what they were feeling though – I imagined it so keenly at the time, and now, it is confirmed to me. If I close my eyes, I'm there, in that room of absolute nothing. Alone.

We've taken to notes, or texting. Being unable to hear my own voice means I can't risk the words coming out. George says I sound fine. I don't believe him.

George left a note this morning.

Let's make love. Tonight.

I hold it between my thumb and forefinger. You wouldn't think not hearing would rob you of other senses, but it does. I can feel the paper, yes, but I can't hear the feel of the paper. Try it now, go on, rub your fingertips over the pages of a book, or a newspaper. Listen to how it feels. Now try to imagine not hearing that. See? You're surrounded. Your world is full of senses interacting and well, making sense of everything. I begin to fold the note up, slowly creasing it into a plane. The paper is rough and crisp, and I drag my nail along the folds making them sharp and perfect. Something about the points and lines makes a shiver run up to my solar plexus. I open the note back out and trace the words.

Let's make love. Tonight.

I try to savor the text without worrying how it should sound. I lift the note to my mouth and run my tongue over the letters, hoping to taste words. The shiver has become a flutter and travels gently down my abdomen and settles at my crotch. I let the sharp edges tickle my lips and the tiny hairs at the corner of my mouth. It makes me twitch and salivate. The prickle and swoosh of my breasts alerts me to my stiffening nipples and I look down to the rise in my shirt.

It's been so long since I've felt arousal, I'm taken by surprise, guilt almost. I make a decision. We will make love tonight...

Like I say, this is part of Best Women's Erotica Volume 1 edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and I'm very excited to have it included. I used to gaze and yearn while reading the 'Best Women's Erotica' books and wonder if one day I might be able to send in a story that would make the grade.

Remember, it's Wednesday - there's a whole load more wickedness to be experienced! Click here or on the sexy rainbow above.

Thanks for reading x x x

A Dirty Selfie

**Blog Update! This was chosen as one of Snake and Charmer's top 5 for Sinful Sunday week 248!**

Ooops, that was a misleading title ;)
Well, it is a selfie of my filthy legs after running the 5k yesterday - which, for me, was one of my toughest runs. I *may* have put on some Christmas kilos and did not have the motivation - and I woke up with migraine aura (basically means you can't see for an hour) so only just made it to the race at all! I'm glad I pushed through and got my medal. Here I am, bandages, dirt and all showing it off.

I am a woman who like to experience many sensations. One of which is to wear very high heels and very tight pencil skirts. In 2013 Eroticon (bloody hell, that long ago?) the sensational Vida Bailey and I struck up a friendship - she seemed a little frustrated by my tottering along beside her on a walk and asked, "Why would you want to hobble yourself like that?"

I have pondered how I'd reply and thought about so many different reasons why and it's taken me this long to find one that sounds true. Basically, I just like the sensation. Simple as that. But I always know I can kick off my heels yank up my skirt and run. Letting my legs fling out and carry me as fast as they can, all stretched out and pounding is another sensation I couldn't live without.

See more Sinful Sunday posts by kissing those sexy lips x x x

Believe in You!

So I promised myself a WickedWednesday if I got all my paperwork done. Well, I didn’t, but it was stop or die. So here I am! Forgive any errors – I am flying by the seat of my frilly knickers today.

This week’s prompt is ‘Believe in Yourself’ – boy, do I need a bit of that. I think I suffer as most creatives do with the passion for making and sharing but the creeping crushing horror that maybe my stuff is just pants.

So, I was pondering something that happened long, long ago…

I have always, and I mean for as long as I have existed on this world as me, been able to come. Of course there was a time when I couldn’t put a name to it, but I could always do it. It was usually accompanied by extremely visual fantasies. Anyhoo – whilst I never felt weird about doing it, I never mentioned it to anyone, even my mum, who was always very open about sexuality and ‘the birds and the bees’. It wasn’t until I was older that I heard words like ‘masturbate’ and ‘wank’ associated with my actions – euuww. These words did NOT sound like the lovely comforting, sensual thing that I did. They sounded icky and sordid or something. And besides, the terms seemed only to apply to boys.

When we were told in sex education that boys masturbated loads and thought about sex every seven minutes I almost snorted out loud – only every seventh minute? How dull for them, I thought, and waited until the teacher brought up the girls’ sex thought stats. None. Nada. Zip.

So I realised that either I was the only girl in the world doing this orgasm thing, or people were being very strange.

Months or maybe years later, during a camp – some sort of high school or guide camp, we were all snuggled and giggling in the girls’ dorm late at night when one of the girls said, “Hey do any of you wank?”

you do what???

I was thrilled! But because she used one of the euuwww words, I momentarily hesitated before jumping up excitedly. And I must say, at the time, I was glad I did because there was one of those hideous awkward silences that just fill the room. You could breathe in the horror.

“Euww, what are you on about, you perv?” was the first reply, whereby everyone thereafter wrinkled their noses and ridiculed the poor girl. To my shame, I simply kept quiet, hiding in my sleeping bag and blushing to the roots of my soul. So it was true. Most girls did not do it. And if they did they were pervs.

When I think back to this moment in my life, I feel so sad for all of us in that room. We had an opportunity to be open about something amazing and not make each other feel shit about having normal sexual feelings. We could have normalised, been honest and created a bond. We were certainly not too young to be discussing our own bodies and how wonderful they are. What I feel most bad about is not seeking out that girl later and confiding in her. I just left her thinking she was alone in her pervdom.

Now, in adulthood, I put the blame for this firmly with the sexual education of the time. Though, I’m saddened to say that from what I hear from mothers of girls, not much has changed.

So what has this to do with ‘Believe in Yourself’? Well, I let other people make me feel like I was wrong. That masturbation was wrong, that sexual feelings for yourself is wrong. I’m sure it put me on a path of not believing in many other aspects of my life too, not just sexual. So here I am, telling that other girl, “I do it too! And probably so do they – and hooray for us all!”

Phew! I’m glad I got that off my chest.

I have grown up trying to be as sex positive as I can be through all my erotic endeavours. I just wish I’d believed in myself a little sooner… and I could always do with believing a little more...

Happy Wicked Wednesday! Click the links for more, more, more!

The Kiss

Hello!
It's 2016 - wow - how did that happen so fast?
Here's my very first Masturbation Monday of the year which also happens to join the Kink of the Week theme of kissing. Click the links for more! I love a good kissing scene so I hope this satisfies your lip action urges x x x
It's a small excerpt from The Guitar (read previous excerpts: The Shaft Part 1 - The Shaft Part 2)

I’m about to let go when there is an almighty banging on the door.

What the hell?

I jump up flinging my guitar down all twisted in the sheets and covers. I stumble and trip over the pile as I run to the door in shock, my cock heavily slapping from side to side as I go. The banging continues.

“All right! All right! What the fuck is going on?”

Just more banging. Someone using their fist. I put the chain in place before opening the door  a chink.

Damien.

“Let me in, Kel,” he says, a thunderous look on his face. His eyes are way darker than I remembered with a tinge of purple beneath them.

“Ok, ok, just stop banging!”

I close the door and step back to take off the chain and open the locks. As soon as he hears the click he barges his way in and pushes me up against the wall. My little key table tips and jangles to the floor as his hot breath hits my face and I inhale his lusty scent.

“I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you. You make me hard and I can’t get rid of you from my mind. It’s doing my head in. I need to fuck you. I need you either out of my system or in my system but whatever it is, it needs to happen now.”

I begin to reply but he has my face in his hands and is kissing me hard, gnawing at my lips and spearing my mouth with his hot tongue. It is raw, feral and horny as fuck. I match him kiss for kiss, bite for bite and wrap my hands around his back and up to the nape of his neck where I grab his hair and scoop him backwards to the other wall. He hits is with a bang and makes a growl sound from deep in his throat. Our mouths are wide and greedy for each other. My nipples and cock graze at his clothing and I release his head to pull his shirt out of his waistband. He helps and we are ferocious in our need to be naked together. I fall to my knees before him and our fingers grab and mingle at his flies, pulling and grabbing, frustrated by the effort of clothing. At last he is free and I yank the denim down and pause at the sight before me.

His cock is perfection. Straight, beautiful, gloriously hard. I breathe in his hot musky smell and can detect my own scent rising from my crotch. It is heady and my mouth is watering, too empty. I sink my lips over his head and graze the shining straining dome with my teeth on the way down. Oh he tastes so good. Salty, sweet, tangy with the metallic hint of precome sending my taste-buds into over drive. God. I want to swallow him whole. I want to take his full length into me. I gobble and suck, my cheeks and jaw working hard to keep up the rhythm as he knots his fingers into my hair and pushes me on to him even deeper.

I’m tipping over the edge, over that sweet barrier. I don’t want to think it – if I think it, I’ll snap back into my fears. Too late. I start to gag on my guilt – not his cock. It’s not his cock rammed down my throat that’s making me feel the creeping shame, it’s me...

If you enjoyed that and want to read the rest of Kel and Damien's story, you can! It's in this fab anthology, Brit Boys With Toys out now for only 99p!

Lightly Tied

The first Sinful Sunday of 2016! 

The prompt is windows - we have posed in front of closed golden curtains playing with my favourite Christmas present...

For more Sinful Sunday images, click on that sexy pout x x x

Happy New Year!

Happy Hogmanay!

I honestly can't believe it's been a whole year since I wrote the words, Happy Hogmanay!
Forgive me if I have a bit of a 'swim in lake me' but 2015 has been a pretty bonkers year.
I'll try to keep this brief as I can and mention as many folks as I can. PLEASE forgive any errors, omissions or bad grammar - I have appear to have mislaid some days over the festive season and have had to rush this a little. :D

1 - The sex toy, Ruby Glow (pleasure for the seated lady), that I designed became an actual thing! It is made by Rocks Off and launched at Erofame this October in Hannover - I was so pleased when Cara Sutra sent me some photos she'd taken.

I've had a few interviews about it in magazines including The Erotic Trade Only mag. Ian, Sue, Lesley and all the folks at Rocks Off have been amazing and this toy would not have existed at all had it not been for my wonderful Brit Babes who helped me with testing and refining the prototypes. Read my blog, So I Invented a Sex Toy here.
2 - I went to the ETO show and Award Ceremony where I had the privilege, along with Brit Babes, KD Grace, Lexie Bay and Lily Harlem of accepting Erotica Writer of the Year 2015 Award on behalf of the delicious winner, Kay Jaybee who was too poorly to attend (thankfully on the mend!) we missed Kay but did have a lot of fun living it up on the dancefloor with the gals and Renee from Sh-Womenstore and Melissa from Voluptasse!
3 - I won second prize in Oleander Plume's Prompted Story Competition - click for a snippet of my story, What The Butler Saw - mighty team Oleander and Ms F Dot Solomon are making all the entries into an anthology - so watch this space.

4 - I only went and won the fucking Euphoff!! The Euphoff is a celebration of very bad and euphemistic erotica hosted by Jane from Behind The Chintz Curtain. I'm so very proud to have that title - here's my story, A Visit to the Mechanic. Please do click through to the other stories, they are utterly hysterical!

5 - Brit Babes anthology, Sexy Just Got Rich was released and hit the Amazon charts!

6 -  My entire trilogy was released in Paperback - more here: A Clockwork Butterfly Trilogy

7 - My Sinful Sunday pic, The Experiment was chosen as one of F Dot Leonora's top 5!

8 - I made it onto Kilted Wookie's Naught List!!

There's lots more but like I said, I've lost a few days and I need to go prepare for Hogmanay!

I've met so many amazing new friends this year - had the delight of making penpals with real letters and enjoyed some thoroughly ripsnorting joy throughout! I've danced with new people and made art with others.

I've enjoyed the full circle of life and lost two very close people, one through Parkinsons and one tragically young through suicide. And even though this post is all about *me* I would like to dedicate it to those two men. Having death close by and physically losing people you love reminds me to work harder, love deeper and enthuse higher.

Love to you all - if you've got this far, bloody hell, you are awesome :D

Happy Hogmanay and wishing you so much love, joy, creativity and success in 2016! May this be your year to shine!

Love Tabitha x x x

OUT NOW! Brit Boys: With Toys

Can you believe it? I have an actual story coming out in this fab anthology! It's been so long since I've  had a book launch I *might* have forgotten how to party... ;) 

OUT NOW! Heat up your eReader for Christmas because Boy! This is one HAWT anthology :D

OUT NOW, Brit Boys: With Toys, a collection of 8 M/M novellas written by 8 top British M/M authors. This smokin’ hot box set is initially available at the bargain price of 99c/99p, that’s a steal for 422 pages of unforgettable M/M erotic romance that will leave your eReader, and you, burning up. Order today!

With stories by

Ashe Barker

MK Elliott

Lucy Felthouse

KD Grace

Lily Harlem

Ashley Lister

Sarah Masters

Tabitha Rayne

Back Cover Information

From coast to coast and city to country Brit boys enjoy playing with each other and their toys. Not any old toys, though; guitars, rope, plugs and Moleskine journals all prove to be enormous fun. Throw in a shop that’s wall to wall with kinky ideas, a journalist on the lookout for the next big thing, and Dominants who insist on obedience and there’s sure to be something to cater for everyone’s taste.

Whether it’s a quickie or a slow indulgence, Brit boys know how to hit the spot and they aim to please every time. So take a ride, fly high, come enjoy these sexy boys and their toys.

Brit Boys: With Toys is an anthology of M/M stories written by British authors, featuring British characters in British locations.

Available for pre-order now on Amazon.

If you missed the first anthology, Brit Boys: On Boys, then make sure you check it out as you wait! Available from Amazon and all other good ebook retailers.

Brit Boys: With Toys

Hard Riders

By Ashe Barker

If there’s one thing Liam loves more than a scorching hot lust-on-wheels superbike, it’s the gorgeous sexy guy who owns such a dream machine. When Jackson finds him all but drooling over his tyres and offers him a ride Liam takes no persuading at all. Soon they discover that their mutual fascination with boys’ toys is not limited to the two-wheeled variety, so it’s just as well that Jackson owns his own sex shop and Liam’s job leaves plenty of scope for dressing up.

But real life is much more than just a few kinky games, and has an unfortunate habit of getting in the way.

All Roped Up

By M K Elliott

When Alex Fraser interviews Conner ‘Big-Mac’ McCaughey, the champion of London’s bare-knuckle boxing scene, he has more than just the fighter in his sights. Hoping to expose the fight club’s illegal dealings, Alex will stop at nothing to get the story, including doing whatever Conner asks.

The moment Conner sees Alex Fraser, all he can think about is what the young reporter will look like bound. Shibari—the ancient art of rope bondage—is the fighter’s passion, and he can’t think of anyone else he’d like to practise on more.

But Alex’s quest to expose the truth could land them both in serious danger...

Doctor’s Orders

By Lucy Felthouse

Hospital porter Aaron Miller isn’t expecting a very exciting birthday. He and his doctor boyfriend, Blake Colville, are working opposite shifts, leaving Aaron to go home to an empty house and the prospect of another shift the following day. Just as he’s leaving work, however, an unexpected sexy encounter in a supply cupboard leaves him feeling in a much more celebratory mood. And an impending dirty weekend away with Blake just puts the icing on the non-existent cake. But who needs cake when you’re dating a dominant doctor?

Toys for Boys

By K D Grace

Alpha Nerd, Will Charles teams up with Caridoc ‘Doc’ Jones in a coast to coast walk across England reviewing outdoor gift suggestions for the Christmas edition of Toys for Boys—an online magazine dedicated to the latest gadgets to tickle a man’s fancy. Will is recording their adventures with the latest smart phone technology. Doc is reviewing the latest outdoor gear. The two quickly discover the great outdoors provides even better toys for boys, toys best shared al fresco, toys that, in spite of Will’s great camera work, will never be reviewed in Toys for Boys.

Mile High Kink Club

By Lily Harlem

Rhodri’s looking for love, but not ordinary love. He needs a man who’ll bend to his will, submit to his desires and obey his every command–including chastity.

So when Gay Hook Ups finds his perfect partner it’s well worth a trip to London. What he doesn’t bet on is his fragile-looking match being a sharp and successful entrepreneur. So when things between them soar, will he unlock the passion, free his desire and will they reach the dizzying heights of ecstasy together? It all depends on whether Darius is prepared to be caged in order to be set free.

Open Mike

By Ashley Lister

Ken finds Mike reading poetry in a bar. Mike is confident and clever and seems capable of teaching Ken everything he needs to know about poetry. And, when Ken asks for his guidance, Mike gladly offers to share his expertise. Consequently, when Mike offers to share more than his expertise in poetry, Ken discovers there are a lot more things he wants to learn from him.

I Get You

By Sarah Masters

Morton is Warren’s boss, and they fancy each other like crazy. Except neither of them has the courage to say so, until Warren blurts out an inkling of his feelings. Morton is stunned by Warren’s offer for them to go away together, but not half as stunned as Warren when Morton accepts. Both of them are pretending to be someone they’re not. And both of them soon realise that being yourself is the best bet.

The Guitar

By Tabitha Rayne

When shy, awkward Kel plays guitar, it’s the only time he feels at home in his own skin. On stage he can hide in plain sight behind his band and the music. It turns him on to play and he can’t help rubbing up against his guitar. Kel is enraptured by a guy he sees every night in the audience and is shocked when this gorgeous guy seems to notice him. So full of his own self-loathing, Kel just can’t accept that someone as perfect as Damien wants to be with him. Will his insecurities put their happiness in jeopardy?

I sneakily popped up a couple of excerpts on my blog - read them here -

The Shaft part 1

The Shaft part 2

Heat up your eReader this Christmas!!

oh - and pop back to help me party...

x x x