Search This Blog


Saturday, December 28, 2013

Girls Rule, Boys Drool by Lucy Felthouse


Girls Rule, Boys Drool
Boyish dyke Toni is working at the local golf club, serving champagne to arrogant, privileged folk when she spots Clarissa. She’s one of the posh people, but she looks like she’d rather be somewhere else—anywhere else. Toni’s immediately smitten and wants to put a smile on the older woman’s beautiful face, so she decides to show Clarissa just why girls rule and boys drool.

Making An Impression
Joely’s holiday has consisted mainly of chilling out by the hotel pool, having the occasional swim and reading lots. That is, until a hot brunette arrives and suddenly, Joely has trouble concentrating on anything else. Her gaydar non-existent, Joely decides on an unusual course of action to find out whether the newcomer bats for the same side as her.

Fear as an Aphrodisiac
Girlfriends Nikki and Sonya are on holiday in Edinburgh, Scotland’s capital city. They’re having fun sightseeing, until a super-scary tourist attraction sends Nikki into meltdown. Once outside again, Nikki slowly starts to feel better—and, much to her surprise, horny. Quickly realising that the fear has acted as a potent aphrodisiac, she decides to take advantage of that fact, right there in the middle of the city.

Available from:

Add to Goodreads

Finally, Nikki and Sonya found the turning off Edinburgh’s Royal Mile that they needed. They’d expected a road, but Mary King’s Close was nothing more than a narrow passageway that looked like it led to the next street along. Glancing at one another, it seemed both girls suspected they were in the wrong place—despite the name of the alleyway—but as they headed along the close, they came across more signage and discovered they were wrong. The signs proclaimed that they were indeed at The Real Mary King’s Close, and this time they exchanged a relieved look and moved inside the tourist attraction.

After paying their money, they were put into a group that was already waiting, and after a few minutes was called to attention by a member of staff. The young man, dressed in incredibly old-fashioned attire welcomed them to the attraction and gave some brief information about what they should expect from the tour, as well as some health and safety spiel.

Then they were ushered deeper into the building and down some stairs. Another peculiarly-dressed actor met them and gave his talk. The group soon learned that Mary King’s Close had been a town of sorts, a collection of streets and houses, named after the most prominent local—Mary King. It had functioned well, this part of Edinburgh—in its day. But it had also befallen hard times and tragedy, including the Black Death. It was rumoured that people affected had been bricked into their houses to prevent the disease spreading further. It had never been confirmed nor denied, but the very idea sent a shiver down Nikki’s spine.

As they advanced into the underground town—now covered over by modern Edinburgh—they learned more about the inhabitants, their lives and, in some cases, their deaths. By the time they were shown the shrine of a young girl, covered with offerings both old and new, Nikki was clinging onto Sonya’s arm so hard that the other girl gave her a nudge.

“Oi, you’re hurting me! What’s the matter with you?”

“Sorry,” Nikki replied. “I’m getting a little creeped out, that’s all.”

“A little? The way you’re squeezing my arm, I’m beginning to think you’ve seen a ghost or something.”
“I said I’m sorry. God. Don’t you think it’s spooky down here?”

A meaningful glance from the tour guide shut them up. Nikki dropped her hand to Sonya’s and held it. The group continued through the subterranean labyrinth, listening to more tales of the past, the things that had happened within the very place they stood, over four hundred years ago.

Some periods of total darkness with recounts of history later, and Nikki was a nervous wreck. She’d always had an overactive imagination, and although she’d never seen a ghost—despite Sonya’s words—she believed in them and was really succumbing to the eeriness of the ancient place. She had gotten to the stage where she fully expected to see the spectre of little Annie—having left the site of her shrine—peering around a corner, beckoning to her. Or the chilly finger of a plague victim trailing down the back of her neck. She grew so paralyzed with fear that she fell silent and didn’t take in a word of the rest of the excursion—simply holding onto Sonya’s hand as they walked through the rooms and tunnels.

When they eventually emerged into the outside world once more, Nikki heaved a sigh of relief. “Sonya, darling, take me for a drink, now. A stiff one. A double vodka and coke sounds perfect right now. Maybe even a triple.”

“Were you really that scared?” The other woman looked disbelieving.

“What do you mean, were? I still bloody am. I’m sure I’d have found it interesting if I wasn’t so busy being terrified. I’m surprised I didn’t wet myself.”

“Aww, babe.” Sonya pulled the other girl into her arms. “I didn’t realise you hated it that much. We could have left if I’d known.”

“No,” Nikki shook her head. “It’s okay, I didn’t want to ruin it for you. I just got to the stage where I blocked it all out. But I’d still really like a drink, if you don’t mind.”

Sonya gently pushed Nikki against the wall of the alleyway and hugged her once more. “Okay, we’ll go for a drink soon. Let me hold you for a few minutes, first.”

The other girl said nothing, just relaxed into her lover’s embrace and slowly, very slowly, felt the fear ebbing away. With not a small amount of horror, she realised that she was turned on. Her knickers were damp and sticking to her, and the heat emanating from between her legs was unmistakable. What the actual fuck? She kept quiet, instead nuzzling into Sonya’s neck and pressing a kiss to the delicate skin there.

“Ooh,” Sonya said, shuddering, “that was lovely. What was that for?”

“For being nice.” Nikki’s voice was muffled, and she kissed her girlfriend again.

“Hey,” Sonya said, grabbing Nikki’s hands and squeezing them, “you’d better stop that, otherwise I’m going to get turned on. And that’s the last thing you want right now. I’m trying to be understanding here, sweetheart.”

Nikki came to the conclusion that she didn’t mind if Sonya got turned on, not at all. In fact, some sexy fun might just take her mind off the creepy underground place they’d just visited. It was damn weird that being scared had turned her on, but the more she thought about it, the more she figured it kinda made sense. Nothing, in her opinion, was scarier than death, and the French word for orgasm translated to ‘the little death’—so it was widely accepted that sex and death were connected. Sex was about life, death was about, well, death. So, in an attempt to stop thinking about things that confused the hell out of her, she was going to embrace life, wholeheartedly. And if that meant experiencing the little death, then so be it.

“I don’t mind,” she whispered into Sonya’s ear.

“What do you mean, sweetie?” Sonya replied, grabbing her shoulders and moving her back so she could look at her face. “You don’t mind what?”

“I don’t mind you getting turned on.”

Author bio:
Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over eighty publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:

Friday, December 27, 2013

Friday Recipe:Chocolate Chip Peppermint Cookies

Chocolate chip cookies are classic. Peppermint chocolate chip cookies are even better! I know you're thinking about them right now. Delicious, huh? Yup. We both know you want some!

Prep Time: 15 Minutes
Cook Time: 12 Minutes
Ready In: 50 Minutes
Servings: 30
3/4 cup butter
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon peppermint extract
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease cookie sheets.
2. In a large bowl, cream together butter, white sugar, and brown sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in egg, then stir in vanilla and peppermint extracts. Combine flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt; gradually stir into the creamed mixture. Mix in the chocolate chips. Drop by rounded spoonfuls onto the prepared cookie sheets.
3. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes in the preheated oven. Allow cookies to cool on cookie sheets for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.

Monday, December 23, 2013

Favorite #Christmas songs!

In absolutely no order these are the songs off the top of my head I enjoy the most. What are yours?
  • O Tannenbaum
  • Merry Snoopy's Christmas (Love this one!)
  • Most Wonderful Time of the Year (Andy Williams)
  • White Christmas (Bing of course!)
  • Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (many are good, Judy Garland is the best)
  • Christmas Waltz (Frank Sinatra--and this song of mine in 3/4 time...that one!)
  • The Little Drummer Boy" (David Bowie and Bing)
  • I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas
  • Baby, It's Cold Outside (most any version)
  • Frosty
  • Marshmallow World
  • Holly Jolly Christmas (Burl Ives)
  • Good King Wenceslas
  • There's No Place Like) Home for the Holidays (Perry Como)
  • We Need a Little Christmas

Sunday, December 22, 2013

One Flesh By Annabeth Leong #newrelease


Leticia and Rosalie are planning their wedding, wanting very much to make their special day one to remember, but Rosalie has something else weighing on her mind, one more thing she wants to make as special and as memorable as the ceremony itself—their wedding night. Rosalie wants to be with Leticia in a way that neither of them had ever been with anyone else. But finding something that would be a first time for both of them turns out to be harder than expected.

As it turns out, there is one thing Leticia has wanted to do but has never trusted anyone enough to allow herself to overcome the fear of it. And it's something that Rosalie has never done either.

The women discuss the idea of fisting as a means of connecting and forming an intimate bond with each other, one that they've never formed with anyone else. They've never loved or trusted anyone else they way the love and trust each other, and they are determined to find a way to make it work.


"I'll call tomorrow to tell the church how many flowers we want to order," Leticia said, sighing and folding her notebook closed. No matter how many neat lists she made with her favorite purple pen, the sheer quantity of wedding-related details was overwhelming. "Can you call the caterer back, Rosalie? I still feel like they sneaked a charge in somewhere, but I can't get a straight answer out of them about it."

Her fiancée smiled indulgently. "Better yet. I'll go in person on my lunch break, and they won't know what hit them."

"Great." Leticia rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. She'd wanted to go to bed early, but another evening of wedding planning had made that completely impossible. She was excited to be marrying her one true love and all, but it was easy to lose track of that when she had fourteen phone calls to make and her mother demanded an e-mailed progress report every single night. "That's got to be enough for now."

Leticia stole a quick glance at Rosalie. She'd changed into a cute pair of pajamas when she got home from work, the childish pattern an odd contrast with her sophisticated coppery makeup. Leticia briefly fantasized about peeling the clothing away, revealing her lover's curves and smooth brown skin. Unfortunately, at that very same moment, she had to stifle a yawn. She was so damn sleepy. They would need to get to bed immediately if she was going to give Rosalie proper attention.

"We can't quit planning yet," Rosalie said. "We haven't discussed the most important thing, and it's coming up soon."

Leticia groaned. She flipped her notebook open again and paged through her color-coded, highlighted lists. "We've talked about everything I had listed for the day, and we even went over things that have deadlines coming up in the next few days. I don't see what we're—"

"The wedding night," Rosalie purred. "We haven't discussed that at all."

There was no mistaking the sparkle in her eyes. Leticia actually blushed, the way she had at Rosalie's makeup counter the first time they met, when the other woman's soft words of praise, roughened by the obvious desire in her voice, had gotten Leticia so hot and flushed it had been impossible to identify the correct shade of foundation for her skin tone. She'd been forced to come back later, not that she'd minded.

Now that she'd figured out what Rosalie was hinting at, Leticia played innocent. For all her lover's passion, her Catholic upbringing had left her with an adorable aversion to using direct language. Leticia loved to watch Rosalie get flustered while trying to explain her naughty desires. She batted her eyelashes and focused on her notes again. "We've reserved our hotel room the night of. We've got our plane tickets to Puerto Rico for the honeymoon a couple days after that. Everything appears to be in order."

"The wedding night," Rosalie said, apparently oblivious to Leticia's teasing. She rolled her hands through the air, one over the other, the gesture an invitation to take the word "night" and run with it. "The whole reason I wanted an afternoon wedding was so we could have plenty of time together. Afterward. In the hotel."

"You mean to take a good, long nap? I'm sure we'll be tired after dealing with all the guests, and coming down from pre-wedding nerves, too." Leticia couldn't resist continuing the act.

"Not a nap. But I am talking about what we might do in bed." Now Rosalie colored, a deep red undertone becoming visible beneath the screen of her makeup.

Leticia composed her face as much as she could manage and shrugged. "Oh, are you talking about sex?" A giggle threatened to slip through at Rosalie's incredulous, exasperated expression. "I don't know. I've read tons of articles about how people get so exhausted from all the things leading up to a wedding that they don't even really want to have sex by the time the day is done. We'll have plenty of time for that later in the honeymoon, won't we?"

"Don't even really want to have sex," Rosalie repeated slowly, as if the phrase was a math problem and she couldn't quite work it out. Her forehead wrinkled in utter puzzlement. A snort burst from Leticia. Realization dawned on Rosalie's face. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and tossed it at her. They'd both collapsed in giggles by the time the thin paper floated airily to the floor beside Leticia.

Leticia allowed the force of her laughter to pull her off the chair. She crawled the short space to Rosalie's chair and raised one brown foot to her lips. Leticia did enjoy a little foot worship now and then, but her current mood was far from reverent. Slowly, carefully, she slipped her mouth over Rosalie's polished big toe. She licked until Rosalie's breathing changed, confused between laughter and moaning. Then Leticia lifted off the toe and pressed her mouth to the sole of Rosalie's foot. She inhaled, gripped the ankle tightly, and blew a powerful raspberry.

Rosalie squealed and tried to get away. Leticia smiled but kept up the wet, ticklish vibrations. Rosalie's foot jerked in her hands. Leticia kept hold easily. She had plenty of practice restraining patients, which happened to have fun applications at home.

Rosalie writhed as she laughed. Leticia drew breath for another raspberry, but cut her eyes up as much as she dared. She didn't want to miss the sight of her lover, breasts bouncing under her shirt as her rib cage shook, hips rolling as she struggled to get away, face squeezed tight as if to ward off the unbearable sensation of being tickled. Effectively, this previewed Rosalie's orgasm. Warm arousal spread through Leticia's body as she forced Rosalie to stay in this state, and as she looked forward to seeing the real thing very soon.

Rosalie rained playful blows onto Leticia's head. "Why the hell am I marrying you?" It took forever for her to get the sentence out, as she had to gasp each word between shrieking laughs.

Leticia grinned and tugged at her lower legs. Her lover took the hint and rolled out of the chair to join her on the floor. Leticia wrapped her arms around Rosalie, who felt small and hot and curvy. She slipped one hand down to tickle between her ribs, rewarded by another delicious howl. Rosalie shoved at her chest. "You are evil, I swear."

"I'm sorry," Leticia said softly, managing to sound sincerely regretful. She kissed Rosalie's temples with great tenderness, until her lover relaxed and stopped wriggling. Leticia murmured more soothing words, rubbing Rosalie's back... then licked the side of her face.

Buy Links:

About Annabeth:
Annabeth Leong has written erotica of many flavors—dark, romantic, kinky, vanilla, straight, lesbian, bi, and menage. Her lesbian stories have appeared in the Lambda Literary Award-nominated Lesbian Cops, Circlet Press's love-spell anthology Like Hearts Enchanted, Lovecraftian erotica book Whispers In Darkness, and others. When not writing erotica, she is frequently reading it. She has lived in six states in various parts of the United States, and traveled to most of the others. Annabeth believes passionately in freedom of speech, rights for people of all sexual orientations, and the need for compassionate religion. She loves shoes, stockings, cooking, and excellent bass lines.

Friday, December 20, 2013

Friday Recipe: Pecan Turtle Bars

I'm not a big fan of pecans, but let's face it: chocolate and caramel make everything taste better. This wasn't difficult at all, except for making the caramel, that took a bit of doing. I was distracted! I wonder if melting caramel would do it? Or would it make a sticky mess instead? If anyone makes these by melting caramels instead, let me know.

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups packed brown sugar
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup pecan halves
2/3 cup butter
1 cup milk chocolate chips
1. Combine flour, 1 cup brown sugar and softened butter in large mixer bowl. Beat at medium speed of electric mixer 2 to 3 minutes or until mixture resembles fine crumbs. Pat mixture evenly onto bottom of ungreased 13 x 9 inch baking pan. Sprinkle pecans evenly over crumb mixture.
2. Combine 2/3 cup butter and remaining 1/2 cup brown sugar in small saucepan. cook and stir over medium heat until entire surface is bubbly. cook and stir 1/2 to 1 minute more. Pour into pan, spreading evenly over crust.
3. Bake in 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) oven 18 to 20 minutes or until entire surface is bubbly. Remove from oven; immediately sprinkle with chocolate pieces. Let stand 2 to 3 minutes to allow chocolate to melt; use knife to swirl chocolate slightly. Cool completely in pan on wire rack. Use sharp knife to cut into 48 bars.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

First Position by @PrescottLane1

About Prescott: 
Prescott Lane is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and graduated from Centenary College in 1997 with a degree in sociology. She went on to Tulane University to receive her MSW in 1998, after which she worked with developmentally delayed and disabled children. She currently resides in New Orleans with her husband and two children.

Prescott will be awarding an eBook copy of "First Position" to 5 randomly drawn commenters during the tour.  

Emory faces life’s challenges at the one place that’s never failed her, the ballet barre.  But even the barre can’t steady her when fate brings her face-to-face with her old college flame, Mason, who’s hoping to return to the NFL after a career-threatening injury.  Before they can surrender to their sexual desires and find salvation in each other’s arms, they need to come to terms with their past.  Mason must confront the demons that have set him on a path of self-destruction, while Emory must decide whether to keep her painful secrets locked away, or expose them and risk losing the love of her life.  But nothing can prepare Mason for what Emory has kept hidden, or the possibility that he himself may be to blame for the very secrets she keeps – and why they continue to haunt her.


Emory sat between Olivia and Wesley, as three nail technicians worked on their feet.  “This is the best idea you’ve had in a while, girl,” Wesley said, wiggling his toes in the water.  “Thanks for inviting me.”  Emory pointed to Olivia giving her credit.

“She told me about Tomás, and honey, there’s nothing better for a broken heart than hitting the spa.”

“Thank you, Olivia, I’m feeling better already.”  Wesley leaned his head back, easing his mind.  “We’re not just doing feet, huh?”

“We’re doing it all!”  Emory said, giggling.  “Manis, pedis, facials, massages, and Olivia, you’re getting your hair and makeup done for our shoot.”

“We deserve it all,” Olivia said, “for all the shit we put up with from our men.”  Wesley and Emory nodded in agreement, but then Olivia turned serious.  “But what I really need is a wax.  Must be a damn forest down there by now!”  Wesley and Emory, along with the technicians, erupted in laughter.  “Was that inappropriate?”
“No way,” he said.  “I come here once a month to take care of that area.  They have this hard wax they use.  Hurts less.”

Olivia appreciated the tip.  “I might try that.”

“Too much information, Wesley,” Emory said.

“Whatever, it’s not like I said she should vajazzle herself.”

Emory hid her face, mortified, regretting she’d allowed Wesley to come, but Olivia was intrigued.  “Is that popular in Charlotte?  It seems all the Texas housewives are doing it.”

Wesley quickly asked, “Emory?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said, then apologized to the technicians for her friends.

“Oh, come on,” he said, “we ballerinas are all bare down there.  You can’t have more than a landing strip.”

“I prefer Brazilian,” Olivia volunteered.

Emory turned bright red.  “Someone help me!”

Buy Links: