Craving Erotic Romance...

is a group blog from several sassy erotic romance authors!

Find out about our latest releases, read scintillating interviews on Mondays, beat mid-week blahs with Hump Day Help Wednesdays, and see hot hunks on Fridays. Saturdays are "Open Mike" and full of surprises! And then, there's always our guests...!



Monday, May 21, 2018

Marvelous for Monday!





Blurb:

Feeling trapped into marriage, Beckett Kilmer doesn’t hide his disdain for his young wife, although he certainly wants her physically.

Grace didn’t deliberately trap the man she loves, but ignorance is no defense, neither in a court of law nor the law according to Beckett.
When she loses their baby, he is kind and supportive but remains distant. Grace despairs, also trapped—but by the skeins of love that bind her.

Mysteriously finding herself capable of resisting him, she plans to assert her independence when Beckett comes to his senses, recognizing his reprehensible behavior. He strives to make amends and convince Grace to reconsider.
Still determined to leave, she then finds out she is pregnant again and Beckett redoubles his efforts to repair their relationship. Can Grace find it within herself to forgive and trust him again?



Excerpt:
Beckett’s big form blanketed her far smaller one as he increased his thrusts, driving her toward that cliff of mindless insensibility her orgasms always conferred. He braced his weight on his forearms, head tucked into her throat, lips tight against the sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder.
He’d slipped into bed, naked and urgently erect, stripping off her nightgown with a muttered imprecation before bestowing a hard kiss that caused her to open to him, his mastery of her senses chasing away the last vestiges of sleep.
Her body instantly responded, the flush of arousal dampening her core, nipples tightening with desire as his big hands cupped and molded her breasts. There was no need for additional foreplay although he tested her readiness with a finger before settling between her thighs and entering her.
It was a vastly familiar, nightly routine, one she desperately anticipated—to her shame—and their coupling tonight should have culminated the same way. With a climax, the sensation giving her the connection she craved, however fleeting, because that was all Beckett would give her.


About the Author:
Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in Manitoba, Canada. She closed her part-time private practice as a social worker and child play therapist and now pretends to work well with her husband in their seasonal business.
Writing for years, along with her alter ego and three coauthors, she has published over 52 novels and reads most everything she can lay her hands on.

Friday, May 18, 2018

Hot Hunk Friday!

Return to Me-teaser1 





BLURB: Her secret tore them apart. Naida Bouche foolishly thought she could live as if she was only human. Her true nature hung over her like a thunderhead, driving a wedge between her and her husband. Cooper Martin had no idea why his ex-wife divorced him. He'd treated her like a goddess. And they had no problems in the intimacy department. Fate brings them together again. Old emotions flare to life. Can Naida see beyond her self-perceived faults and allow the flames to reignite the love she and Coop feel for one another?

Return to Me

EXCERPT: Water cascaded off her nude body. Small rivulets ran over her breasts and down her slightly rounded stomach, disappearing into the surface of the lake. She was one with the water. She could, literally, become one with it. Moonlight reflected off the mirror-smooth surface, adding a soft glow to the night. Crickets serenaded her with their chirping song. The cicadas added their buzzing to the symphony. There were a lot of cicadas, hence the name of the lake. A wolf howled in the distance. Nature cocooned her. She grinned and dove under. Liquid embraced her, still heated by the sun’s rays from earlier in the day. Her body became insubstantial, fragmenting into molecules of H2O. Disorientation left her bewildered, but the feeling came and went. Weightless warmth enveloped her, and the ebb and flow of the tide lulled her into blissful relaxation. The moon slid across the sky. Hours had passed. Her body became corporeal with a single thought. After regaining her human form, she cut through the water with powerful strokes and rose to the surface in a rush of bubbles. The night air chilled her damp skin, raising goose pimples along her flesh. She pushed the long fall of hair from her face and glanced into the deep, lush woods that ringed the lake. Soon the leaves would change to shades of gold, orange, red, and brown. In would come the autumnal chill. Her time in the waters would decrease, and then winter would set in and freeze her out. When that happened, she’d resort to the swimming pool located on the basement level of her large home. Even with the greenery she had sprinkled about, it never fully replaced the exhilaration of the lake, the feel of fresh air against her skin, and the scent of the wilderness. She repeated the cycle, year after year. The monotony had long since worn short on her nerves. She had someone in her life, someone to break the monotony. More accurately, she would only have him until the end of the day. Tonight would be the last night they would be together. She’d tell him that they were over and done with. The sad part of the whole shitty deal was she couldn’t really give him a reason why. How could he understand? Hell, she’d have trouble believing the truth, if it wasn’t her life. The root of their problems were otherworldly, as her father was human and her mother was a water nymph. The nymph side of her heritage presented two problems. First, she needed daily contact with water. The more the better. Like her pool in the basement. Second, she also needed sex … a lot. Preferably once or twice a day. After all, the term “nymphomaniac” had been born of a nymph’s sex drive. They had a lot of sex, but there were times when their hectic lives interfered with his libido. He was human and his sex drive was human. She couldn’t guess how he’d react if she said, “I’m a nympho which means we have to have sex all the time. Day and night. Over and over and over.” He wouldn’t understand it and she’d allowed it to build a wall between them. No, he had never known the truth of her desires. She had pushed him away, afraid of exposing her real self. And that fear, that uncertainty, would leave her alone … and needy.

Buy Links:

Available at your favorite e-book retailer!  

https://www.books2read.com/ap/nlvm5x/LM-Spangler


Author Bio:

LM Spangler lives in South Central Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter, three dogs, a cat, a rabbit, and some fish. Her son serves his country in the US Navy.

She is a fan of college football and any kind of baseball and likes to watch the Discovery, Velocity, HGTV, DIY, Science, and any channel showing a college football game. She also watches old game shows like $25,000 Pyramid and Match Game.

Social Media:

Website- www.authorlmspanglerwrites.wordpress.com

Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/authorlmspangler

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authlmspangler

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlmspangler/

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/+LMSpangler

Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Hump Wednesday Feature!




Title: King Consort
Blurb:
Avoiding sleeping with women was my specialty, an art form even. As the future King of England I couldn’t be caught sleeping with men. My whole life played out in front of the paparazzi, and they didn’t miss a thing.
I had a carefully crafted womanizing persona to maintain. My life came with rules, all of which I broke when I couldn’t resist a one night stand with the enemy: A beautiful paparazzo with a heart of gold. He may be the only person who doesn’t want me for my title, and he can never be anything more than my secret.
But secrets have a way of coming out and not only will they scare him away, but they’ll lose me the crown.


Teaser:
He sat back keeping the camera in his lap. “How much liberty are you giving me?”
I mirrored him and looked him over, taking my time with my answer. “Why are you asking.”
Lust crossed through his gaze. “Take off the shirt.”
I obliged him, slowly working my fingers down the buttons. I slid it off and set it aside. He looked me over, hungry. My cock stirred at the look. I’d never felt so desired by another person. He slid forward on the seat and brought the camera back to his face. I stayed as I was until he told me to move.
“Sit on the edge of the table,” he said breathless.
I was glad this was getting to him as much as it was me. It was entirely foreign to give someone such a thing over me. To allow someone to take these photos. It was daring and exhilarating. I’d have to be careful or I’d get addicted to the acting out like some bored teenager.
I sat on the edge to the table closest to the fire and he moved back to take a few shots. I looked up when he hadn’t said anything in a few moments to find him just watching me. The fire illuminated his scar, and I wanted to kiss the length of it, from his brow to his lips. I licked my lip and my chest rose as I inhaled fully, trying to calm myself. He snapped another photo.
“What do you see?” I asked unable to stand wondering a moment longer. I wanted to know how he saw me.
“I see hunger,” he said as he came closer. “The way you look at me.” The camera hung at his side as he stalked closer.
I wanted to reach out for him. To shove him into the chair he’d occupied and climb on top of him, but I refrained because more than wanting him, I wanted to see what he did.
“Take your pants off.”
I raised a brow but didn’t say more.


Author Bio: When not staying up all night writing, J.R. Gray can be found at the gym where it's half assumed he is a permanent resident to fulfill his self-inflicted masochism. A dominant and a pilot, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. He frequently interrupts real life, including normal sleep patterns and conversations, to jot down notes or plot bunnies. Commas are the bane of his existence even though it's been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder. If Gray wasn't writing…well, that's not possible. The buildup of untold stories would haunt Gray into an early grave, insanity or both. The idea of haunting has always appealed to him. J.R. Gray is genderqueer and prefers he/him pronouns.





Buy the book: https://jrgraybooks.com/king-consort/



Monday, May 14, 2018

Marvelous for Monday!


Hello, and thank you so much for having me here today to talk about my new release, Spice & Vanilla. This is the darker, naughtier sister of my previous release, Woman as a Foreign Language, but it can be read as a complete stand alone.
The BDSM element in Spice and Vanilla came about in part because I had just finished reading Katerina Ross’ beautiful novel Tenderly Wicked, so I was in the mood for something a bit spicier than my previous release, and partly because I had this idea for Raphael, the main character, that he would be “in two minds about anything”. He’s gender-fluid, bisexual, and as it turns out, a switch (he is in fact the sort of character that can piss off absolutely every reader on earth, lol).
I always like sex scenes to carry some of the character building in my stories. I think sex is one of the most visceral things we do in life, and the way we have sex with different people and different sex with the same people at different times can say a lot about us, about our feelings for our partners and where we are in a relationship. You can put so much more than smut in a sex scene (although a good amount of smut is most welcome), and when you stray into BDSM that potential for character exploration rises tenfold, because there are so many more layers to it. Why do we feel the need, in a caring, loving relationship, for giving or receiving pain? Why do power and humiliation become a turn on, even a necessity, at certain times? And can these things add more to our relationships than just a passing kinky thrill? Can they possibly become a way to express feelings we don’t have words for? I do not pretend to have full answers to these questions, but I did enjoy searching for them in the company of such complex characters as Raphael and Hugh.


 

Blurb:

Time was, when Di could dance all night. Time was, when she could ride any horse in the stable. Time was when she had a fiancée, a future and a home she loved. Until a silver SUV came out of nowhere and broke her life in half.
Well concealed under a sarcastic, spiny hide, Hugh has a darkly romantic, passionate soul. Torn between love and terror, he’s held the talented, elegant, magnetic Raphael carefully at arm’s length since the day they met.
Male or female, men or women, kinky or sweet, top or bottom? Angel or devil? Raphael’s life is a string of unanswered questions. And Lucie, his long-hidden female self, may bring it all together or destroy everything he has.


Be warned: cross-dressing, gender-queer, explicit M/M and M/F sex, anal sex, spanking, flogging, bondage, forced orgasm, sex toys



Excerpt:

Hugh watched him stroking away with great contentment. He was totally worn out after a crazy day at work, and it was not always easy to find the energy to satisfy such an enthusiastic masochist. There were days when he wished Raphael were a bit less fond of being spanked and whipped, but he always did his best to oblige him. The thought of his Raphael going out there looking for release from God-only-knows-whom, and getting hurt for real by some less scrupulous or talented Dom was just unbearable. Still, tonight he would lie back and relax. Mostly. I will have to help him eventually, he thought with a slightly evil grin, but I can take a breather first.
Raphael stroked in perfect tempo. He was one of the most technically exact musicians Hugh had ever played with, after all. Too exact, in fact.
It would do him so much good to let go a bit, to just go with the flow, be wild and imprecise and purely passionate. Then he would not need so much of this.
Tick—tock—tick—tock—tick—tock, went the metronome, and Raphael stroked and stroked. It was a good while before Hugh could tell, from a small furrow between those blond eyebrows, that the unchanging, slow rhythm was beginning to frustrate him. He smiled a bit wider and said nothing, devouring his beautiful quarry with his eyes. He watched, entranced the fluid play of flesh and skin as Raphael’s long pale cock, a nice ruddy purple by now, sank and reemerged into and from his fist, the velvet-like foreskin lapping beautifully over the shinier, silky glans, the testicles bouncing softly to the rhythm as the scrotum was pulled up and released. It was hard to resist the temptation to throw the whole scene to the devil and just take that cock in his mouth and suck it empty.
This is without exception the best use a metronome was ever put to.
Raphael’s body was developing a number of small, charming tics and twitches. He briefly lifted his left knee from the mattress then relaxed again. His right wrist was pulling on the strap from time to time, and his breath was coming in slightly ragged bursts.
Still it took a long time. Too much control, thought Hugh, smiling. Tsk-tsk.
Tick—tock—tick—tock.
He slowly unfolded his hands and moved to sit between Raphael’s legs. He spit on his middle finger and watched Raphael’s face, half hopeful, half anxious, as he slowly approached his anus. He didn’t hurry. He let Raphael wait for it. He would beg, in time, Hugh knew, but there was no need for that, not yet. He finally pressed his fingertip to the twitching, tight, live rose of flesh and felt it jolt and spasm. He massaged it in circles, with relish, and didn’t even try to penetrate it. Raphael was shaking all over, trying to press down on his finger, but there was just so far he could stretch, tied as he was. His belly muscles went taut. They were contracting in random, jerky convulsions. Hugh had never seen anything so beautiful.
Then Raphael missed a beat. His hand had picked up pace, ignoring all orders. Raphael whimpered, trying to compensate to get back in the right tempo. The double change of pace made him squirm all over. He swallowed twice and missed the beat again. This time Hugh slapped the inside of his thigh, very hard. Raphael could take a long regular series of well-spaced blows with relative ease, but a single hard slap coming down out of the blue like that drew a ragged cry from him.
“You do know what tempo means, I asked?” Hugh said, in a plain chatty voice. He had never had any taste whatsoever for histrionics. He was not, he had never been, a theatrical Dom. He wasn’t in it for setting up a show. He just got the job done.
“Yes. Yes!” said Raphael, a bit frantic. He managed to stick to the rhythm for a minute longer, until Hugh gently stuck his finger just within the ring of his anus. All of Raphael’s body twisted, and he lost all track of the cold, mechanical rhythm of the metronome.
And that is exactly what you need, my love . Too much playing by the rules, too much fucking control. You need to find your own tempo, and just let go.
Five or six fast hard strokes followed. Hugh slapped him twice, on his thigh, and, when he turned suddenly, on his butt. And then Raphael came, on the third slap, as he flopped flat on his back again, crying out in pleasure or pain, or both. It was hard to tell. Semen spurted out in beautiful, long, arched white streamers, splattering over Raphael’s belly, chest, and even his face.
It is difficult to aim while being spanked hard.
Hugh watched him coming, avidly.
He was so naked. So vulnerable, so unguarded. Hugh, who felt, every day, that he might shatter like glass, on Raphael’s unearthly, impossibly graceful, self-possessed beauty, lived for these moments, to watch him released of all self-consciousness and all bonds. Strange, how it took a bunch of leather straps to get him to do that.
“Ah, oh, shit. That hurt,” Raphael whispered after a minute. “Not complaining, mind,” he added, with a small edgy laugh, wiping some drops of sperm from his lips and eyebrow.
“Good,” said Hugh, quite composed, despite the erection straining in his pants. Watching Raphael twitching and jolting while covered in glistening semen was not a sight to leave him unmoved. He reached out for the metronome, stopped it and lowered the weight a tad, then started it again.
This was a faster, business-like tempo.
“There you go, hot lips,” he said to Raphael, who was still breathing hard from his orgasm.
“What? Wh—but…”
Hugh gave him a small devilish smile. Raphael was perfectly capable of coming two or three times in one night, but, like most men, he needed a while to recuperate in between. Well, tonight, he wasn’t getting it.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

You can also find an exclusive excerpt on my website, here:


See what Katherine is up to on:

Or follow her on Instagram @katherinewyvern




Friday, May 11, 2018

Hot Hunk Friday!

Hi, and thank you for hosting me on your blog! I got the idea for this story after watching a video of French “globe cooker” Fred Chesneau visiting nomads in the Moroccan desert. They generously shared their food, home, and wisdom with a stranger, and I thought it would be cool to write about a female rally driver having the same experience. A Thorned Rose in the Sand is set in the beautiful, quiet dunes of western Sahara where the sun is so hot you can’t walk barefooted and you could go miles and miles without seeing a single soul. In this story, you’ll meet a badass 450cc rally motorcycle, an opiniated but gentle dromedary, and two highly strong-willed young persons from opposite sides of the planet who get off to a bad start then can’t keep their hands off each other 😊

A Thorned Rose_banner.jpg

  When life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a motorcycle rally across Morocco. But the real excitement is found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert. After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. He dreams of the perfect wife, until a beautiful but feisty biker stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.  

Available from

Add the book to your shelf on Goodreads
See photos that inspired me to write the book on Pinterest

A Thorned Rose in the Sand-3D-eReader
 

Excerpt

The girl screamed behind him. “Eeeeee!” Too hard to resist. Until now, Ragab had had a difficult time respecting her privacy, but surely, a scream called for attention. What kind of a gentleman would he be if he didn’t check on a woman in distress? He spun and found her kneeling on her jacket, nude and wet, arms outstretched in shock. He bit down a laugh. Yes, the deep well water was cold, but one got used to it, and in the extreme heat of the desert, it was a blessing. She turned, caught him staring, and even though he couldn’t see anything inappropriate, she hurried to cover her breasts and pubic area. “Look away!” she shouted, voice panicky. The laugh bubbled inside him, but he obediently turned back to the motorcycle—then stood in such a way he could see her reflection in one of the side mirrors. Oh, it was like watching a porn scene. Her long, red curls hung wild over her back and round, white butt cheeks. Every time she moved, a portion of her breasts appeared in the space between her ribs and arms. Such perfect feminine curves, all over. Imagine if he saw the front… Blood rushed to his groin. Stiffening, bothered, he tore from the sight, walked over to the well, and leaned against its waist-high wall, hoping the hardness of the bricks and coolness from the water below would temper his arousal before it became a full-blown erection. So silent… He strained to hear. Splashes. Muffled squeals. More splashes. He turned slowly and stole a glance from the corner of his eye. She washed her panties and black top in the bucket and leaned forward to spread them in the sun. Her position exposed the dark pink lips of her sex, from the tiny hole in her butt to the end of her slit, where her clitoris hid. Ooh! Shocked to his core, he turned back and groaned low, his cock hardening again. He closed his eyes, drew long, slow breaths to calm the painful throbbing and counted minutes, trying to think of something else. His dromedary, for example. It would be cool to show her how to ride it. What if he rode another one, and they both galloped on the dunes together, she laughing, ecstatic… Then they’d roll in the sand, and he would tease her thighs apart and slide his hungry hardness into her dark pink lips, to the wet bottom of her. Oh, yes. She called, “Ready?” He risked a glance in her direction. Wearing one of his sisters’ dresses and looking divine with her red curls floating behind her—and her face white and clean—she strolled to the motorcycle, carrying a bag and her clothes. She stuffed everything on top of the fuel tanks, got up, lifted the dress to her knees, and started the motor. Not once looking at him.  

About the author

Lea Bronsen

 Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between psychological thriller, romantic suspense, and dark erotic romance.

Meet Lea Bronsen on
 

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

Hump Wednesday Feature!


New Audiobook: What I Would Give to See You Again by @JewelQuinlan
A Reverie Resort Vacation

Blurb:
Visit Reverie Resort, a luxury hotel on a tropical island where vacationers come to enjoy their wildest dreams but get more than they ever expected…
Vampire Ahram Bahar comes to Reverie Resort to experience his deepest wish; to relive a moment he had with a woman over one hundred years ago. In 1892, he was reunited with Angelica Meitner, his childhood friend and soul mate. It was a moment of deep love, exquisite tenderness, and a horrifying ending that has haunted him ever since. Now, he wants a chance to savor the good without the bad, but did he remember to tell the resort hosts?


Audiobook Details:
Listening Time: 1 hour 30 minutes
Narrated by: Dene Woods
Listen to a sample on SoundCloud:

Where to buy the audiobook:
Audible  |  iTunes  |  Amazon

Want the ebook instead? Get it here:
Amazon  |  iTunes  |  Kobo  |  Nook
Add it to your shelf on Goodreads

Enjoy this excerpt:
“I have to confess something, Angelica. I’ve never forgotten about you. As a boy, I remembered having feelings for you that were more than friendship, not that I could have said what they were. But seeing you now, I know it was the real thing. I loved you then and I still do now. I was really the one who pushed for this trip, not Serapis. I thought, if we came here, I might be lucky enough to find you. And I was, though in a completely unexpected way.”
She blinked rapidly and lifted the shawl from beside her to blot at the tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes. “This has to be a dream.” She sniffled. “You being here so suddenly…saying all the words I’ve imagined you saying.” She took in a shaky breath and looked up at him. “I never married because of you, you know.”
Ahram felt again the overwhelming surge of love that consumed him. It was twice now what it had been before because of all the longing he’d stored up for her over the past century. It was a tidal wave of emotion. He drew her into his arms and kissed her soft lips, felt her full breasts press against his chest, again memorizing the precious feel of her and the sensation of her lips against his. Unexpectedly, she parted her lips for him and their tongues slid against each other. Ah, she tasted so wonderful…delicious…
He broke the kiss.

About the Author:
Restless by nature, Jewel Quinlan is an avid traveler and has visited sixteen countries so far. Lover of ice cream, dark beer, and red wine she tries to stay fit when she’s not typing madly on her computer concocting another romance novel. In her spare time, she likes to do yoga, hike, learn German, and play with her spoiled Chihuahua, Penny.
For more information about Jewel Quinlan
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