Monday, 27 February 2012

Welcome Loose ID author, Em Petrova!

Welcome to my site, Em - great to have you here! And you're talking about one of all authors favorite questions from interviewers and readers alike...Our muse. Where our ideas come from...This has got to be the ultimate answer every aspiring writer wants the magic answer to - let's see if Em can give us all that sought after piece of advice!

My Smutty Muse

By Em Petrova

In the course of my career, a lot of people have asked where I get my ideas. Since about half of my releases are ménages, I thought I’d share some information about my naughty muse with you.

Some authors name their muses, but mine is ever-changing, and so her name shifts too. I think of her as a chameleon, changing colors, shape and personality. One day she might be a red-haired vixen in stilettos with a knife strapped to her inner thigh and the next she’s the sweet girl next door with financial troubles and a four-year-old son.

One thing that remains constant, though, is she’s sensual. She has sexual awareness and will explore any erotic play. And more often than not, she’s got a big personality and even bigger needs. Which means she requires more than one person in her life, whether males, females or both, to fulfill her.

In my latest ménage a trois, Outlaws of Love, the heroine finds herself wrapped up with not one dangerous outlaw cowboy, but two. Caught in a web of passion and on the run, she learns more about who she is than a lifetime sipping tea in a Boston parlor could ever teach her. She gets downright dirty with these rugged shoot-em-up alphas, and finds that love knows no bounds.

I grew very attached to this particular muse. Miss Annabelle Jenkins will always be one of my best friends. Read on to see if she will be one of yours too…


Upon traveling west to marry, Annabelle Stephens longed to leave her nickname of Sweetheart Annie and the strict rules of Boston society behind, but the taboo freedom she faces wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. When a sexy outlaw storms into her rented room and kidnaps her, she’s embroiled in a dangerous game with not one man, but two.

Until now Xander Hollis wanted one thing—or maybe two—to stop the Southern Gorge Railroad from stealing the homesteaders’ land, and to act on his desires with his partner in crime James. Like Robin Hoods of the old west, he and James embark on a mission to rob from the rich and give to the poor. When he refuses to let go of the woman who could identify him, he finds he’s in true danger. Danger of losing his heart to the heiress of the very railroad corporation he struggles to bring down.


James leaned in and drew a deep breath, his nose inches from her hair. She tensed in response, but her body throbbed. Her nipples tightened almost painfully. Xander gripped her waist and plucked her off her feet, settling her astride in the saddle. She tried not to wiggle to ease the ache between her thighs even as she avoided James’s steady gaze.

“What is your mother like?” She hoped to distract him from her need, though the spark was quickly growing to an inferno.

“You’re going to love everything about my ma,” Xander said, vaulting up behind her. He tucked her tight against his chest with his familiar arm locked around her waist. James crossed to his horse and loosened the rope keeping it from running away.

“His mother’s the best cook in the world.”

“Better than yours, James.”

“No lie.” The man hitched his foot into the stirrup with the barest of winces and seated himself atop Switchback.

Xander probed her ear with his tongue, and his cock jammed harder against her buttocks. “James’s mother burns everything.”

“I used to pretend to eat my meal and then ran like hell across the fields to get to the Hollis Ranch in time for supper.” He set his heels into his horse, and they took off.

Xander didn’t immediately follow but nuzzled her throat. “You’re so goddamned alluring, Annabelle. I need you.”

She twisted, threw her arms around his neck and drew him down for a kiss. The instant their lips brushed, a series of explosions detonated in her core. Her nerve endings pinged. Her breasts grew heavy with need. And her pussy pulsated, begging to be stroked. Stretched. Filled.

“Please, Xander. Touch me.”

“Mmm.” His chest rumbled against her side. Gliding a hand over her knee and up her inner thigh, he located the V of her legs. Through the fabric of her dress, he rubbed her heated folds.

Grasping her skirt, she hitched it up to expose her pussy to his fingers. She stole a glance at James’s back. He was still riding, either giving them a moment of privacy or oblivious to the fact they weren’t following.

Xander’s hard lips commanded hers. At the first touch, she opened her mouth to him, and his tongue swept inside. He tasted the walls of her mouth, his tongue working deeper against hers. When he strummed the bundle of nerves between her thighs, she gasped.

Quivering with need, she writhed against him, seeking more of his maddening touch. The blaze of desire in her belly was uncontrollable. If she didn’t get release soon, she’d go insane.

She’d tossed out her inhibitions and admitted that she craved his touch. When he stroked her, she lost all sense of time and place, which couldn’t be a good thing. She was about to arrive at the Hollis family ranch, where people would surround them day and night. And James couldn’t be far away, could he?

Xander tore his mouth away. “How long will it take, baby doll?” How many times do I have to do this” -- he circled her clit once, twice -- “to make you come on my fingers?”

“Oooh.” Flashes of delight sparked behind her eyes, and her world narrowed to include only Xander’s leather-and-musk scent and the pressure of his callused fingers against her sensitive tissues.

Even when the hoofbeats of James’s horse sounded nearby, she couldn’t open her eyes and make Xander stop. He parted her thighs with one hand, exposing her completely to the air and surely to James’s gaze.

Xander’s words drowned out all cares. “That’s it, baby. Come for me. Feels good, doesn’t it? Your pussy is so pretty, all tight and wet. Your clit so swollen. You want to come for me, don’t you?”

In a blinding burst, she splintered. Wave after wave of blissful sensation washed over her. She clung to Xander, her gasps suddenly swallowed by his kiss. He ground her nubbin into her body, extending her release. Cream soaked his fingers.

James gave a soft moan.

And Annabelle’s eyes shot open. The man was mounted not five feet from them, his horse dancing slightly. James’s gaze was riveted between her thighs.

Xander lifted his head, looked right at James, and thrust his finger deep into her body.

A haze of rapture settled over her as another orgasm broke over her. The waves pounded her, the pinnacle sharper and more fulfilling than the last. Sensation ripped through her, and she stopped breathing for a minute. When she cried out, James’s gaze flashed to hers, caught and held. As her release pounded through her muscles, she couldn’t look away if she wanted. She was trapped again -- between Xander’s adept fingers and James’s stimulating stare.

Em Petrova

~where words mean so much more~


Em Petrova Biography

Em Petrova lives in backwoods Pennsylvania, where she raises four kids and two feral kittens and pays too damn much for utilities. But seeing her sexy husband tromp out back with a chainsaw in hand is well worth the frustration of living miles from a mall. She adores writing sex scenes and anything paranormal. When she has the opportunity to mix the two, she’s in her element.

You can learn more about her smutty reads at

Yum...fabulous excerpt, Em - I am off to download this one right now. Fantastic! Okay, over to you guys - do you have a single muse or many different ladies like Em??


Saturday, 25 February 2012

Welcome Bianca Swan...


Early on, Essie McBane set her standards high and waited for true love. She never expected the answer to her prayer to literally fall from heaven in the shape of a warrior angel with chestnut curls and a celestial body. As much as she'd love to teach the divine creature a thing or two about sex and lust, can she be responsible for leading him into temptation?

Sinfully handsome Cam-ael, an angel, is wounded in the second war between heaven and hell and plummets into the arms of a beautiful human. But Cam knows he must return eventually, no matter how much he likes the material pleasures of earth. Not to mention the sensual pleasure he's found with Essie.

But when his mortal feelings for Essie draws a demon into the midst, can Cam protect her or will he learn the true meaning of the word sacrifice?


Whoa, Essie, he’s an angel and a lot younger than you.

His feathers rustled as he unbuckled the fastenings under his arms and bent to place the armor on the floor. What did his ass, hidden by sleek white wings, look like? My, my, he was just too much for a girl to resist. She gave in to temptation, stroked the shiny, soft feathers. He backed into the caress, and a long sigh escaped him.

“That feels incredible.” His voice came husky, and butterflies hatched in her stomach.

It had been a long time since she’d felt belly tugs or the fire of passion licking through her, but when she touched him, the world as she’d known it ceased to exist. He untied the leather tunic and stepped out of it. His wings drooped. He swayed on his feet. She felt guilty as hell, lusting after an angel too weak to stand.

Shakily, he turned to face her. Ginger hair spattered his chest, drew a thin line down his stomach, disappearing in the V-neck of the robe he wore beneath his armor. The loose shirt was thigh-length. The fabric appeared to be linen but with a subtle sheen.

“I’m afraid I can’t remove this.” He lifted a fold of the toga, giving her a tempting glimpse of his upper thigh, very near his cock. “I’m wearing nothing beneath.”

Buy Link:

Wednesday, 22 February 2012

Welcome Muse It Up Publishing author, Dana Littlejohn!

So nice to meet you, Dana and be a part of your "Seven Year Switch" Tour! This is the first time we've met and I'm looking forward to learning more about you and your work. Love the title, by the way.

Okay, let's start the interview - enjoy your time here!

  1. 1) Who is your favorite author and why?

Bertrice Small is my favorite. I have read everything she has written. I love her style of writing. It’s smooth. I never have questions at the end of her books. Even the sequels and series are all wrapped up and you can read them on their own or as a series. I love Piers Anthony, too. I got hook on his Xanth series years ago and has since have collected and read all of them. I love the magic and that everyone has a talent no matter how small and the reference to our world as Mundania cracks me up.

  1. 2) When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I have always considered myself a writer. I have wanted to be a writer since I was 12 and wrote my first novella, but I considered my self an author when I published my first book in 2003.

3) Describe your writing space?

I have a small desk in the corner of the living room. Next to it is a small book case with all my research books, favorite reads and pictures. On the wall above the desk are two shelves. One shelf has my build a bear, Clio she is my muse and the other holds my cup of diet cherry 7Up.

  1. 4) What are you reading now?

I haven’t read anything recently for the simple joy of reading. I just came out from under a ton of research reading for a book I’m doing called Renegade Rae. She is a space pirate in the future.

  1. 5) How many books have your written? Which is your favorite?

I have written 3 novels, 8 novellas, 27 short stories and 4 short-shorts for anthologies. I liked them all but I guess my favorite is The Seven Year Switch because I got the chance to flip the script (so to speak) and Releasing the Baggage because it wrote my first female ‘bad guy’.

  1. 6) What comes first, plot or characters?

The plot. I always know the story before the characters come to life. I know the beginning, the middle and how the story will end, but it’s the characters who tell me how they get from one point to the other.

  1. 7) Do you ever suffer from writer’s block?

Oh yes! I am usually doing more then one story at a time. So when the characters in one story stop talking to me I move to another. When no one is saying anything I watch movies or crochet.

  1. 8) What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

I like to cook. I have lots of cook books and try something new all the time.

  1. 9) Tell us about your latest book?

The Seven Year Switch is about a wife who comes across a secret her husband is keeping from her that has the capacity to destroy their marriage. She’s hurt and angry that he has lied to her all the time they’ve been together. Now she has to ask herself if she is willing to forgive and accept what is needed to make their marriage work

  1. 10) What’s next for you?

I have book 3 of my Erotes series coming out at Muse it Hot. Charles’ Goddess is about the daughter Aphrodite had with Poseidon. Zeus has banished her to Earth for the misuse of her power. Aphrodite and her brothers have sent her to the man who needs her the most, but he thinks she is the most insufferable woman he has ever met. Book 4 will follow this summer. That story is about the son Aphrodite had with Hermes. In Alan’s Arrival he tires of being on Mount Olympus and asks his mother to send him to Earth where he knows he will find happiness.

I also have a Valentine’s story coming in an anthology that Secret Cravings Publishing is putting out called Cupid’s Target.

Could you make the switch from dutiful, submissive wife to paddle wielding queen bee to save your marriage?


Sonja Winters was enjoying the good life with a great job and being married to the man of her dreams. As she prepared to celebrate their seven year anniversary she came across a secret that her husband had been keeping from her that would alter the course of their marriage forever.

Excerpt One

“Yes, I understand.” Bianca sat next to her and openly looked her over. “I see now why he chose you. You are beautiful and strong. You will be able to control him well.”

Sonja scoffed. Her anger at the situation came back, fueled by Bianca’s nonchalant description of her ability to deal with her husband.

“If you’re talking about my husband, I was controlling him just fine until you came along.”

“Hmm, I can appreciate how you must feel, but you do not have all the facts.”

Bianca clapped her hands and two men appeared. They looked similar to the biker guy who led her into the room except they were much younger and more firmly built. They dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.

“Yes, Mistress,” they said in unison.

Sonja’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Bianca’s voice roused her from her stunned state.

“Sonja, would you like a drink?”


“Coffee, tea, perhaps a glass of wine,” she offered.

“Umm, yes, a glass of wine would be nice.”

“You heard her and bring fruit, too,” she told the men.

Sonja’s emotions teetered between anger, confusion and amazement. These large and strong looking, fully grown men were seemingly at Bianca’s beck and call. They left the room to do her bidding with only a comprehensive nod. She turned a look to Bianca. Sonja was sure her face reflected the surprise and shock wavering inside her over the men’s behavior. It was hard to hide as she looked at her hostess.

“Please, allow me to explain. These men come to me from various places and all walks of life, but they all want the same thing and they pay me to give it to them.”

“Uh-huh, and what’s that?”

“They want to be dominated by a woman.”

Get yours at Muse it Hot

Dana Littlejohn was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, but has called Indianapolis, In. her home for over ten years. She has always wanted to write since early childhood, but put that wish on hold to raise her growing family and have a career. With the encouragement of her husband, Dana picked up her pen again in 2003 and has no intention on putting it down. With 3 novels, 8 novellas, 4 stories in anthologies, 42 short stories published to date and a long list of wips (works in progress) she is literally living her dream. Join her on the wild journey through her imagination. It’s a ride you’ll never forget!



Facebook: search authordanalittlejohn

Twitter: follow authordanalittlejohn

Thanks for being here, Dana and lots of luck with the tour!!

Dana will be giving away a promotional pen to one randomly drawn tour commenter and a promotional T-shirt to another during the tour.

Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:

Comments? Dana is waiting to chat! :)

Monday, 20 February 2012

Welcome Penny Amici...

Today, I welcome Penny Amici, contributor to a brand new anthology of erotic short stories edited by D L King. Voyeur Eyes Only is available now from Amazon - I for one will be downloading a copy. Nothing better than taking a short dip into the fun and games before heading back to work. Yum!

Take it away, Penny...

Say It Out Loud

By Penny Amici

Saying out loud that you write erotica, when confronted with questions of ‘what do you do?’ seems, for me anyway, to always bring about the same effect from people. “Really? You write porn?”

No, I don’t write porn, I write erotica and there is a difference. A fine line difference, but still, it’s there. Not that there’s anything wrong with writing porn. There isn’t. It’s just that I personally do not write it.

So, to avoid the inevitable, I started telling people that I write romance. Most of the time, that satisfies their curiosity. Sometimes though, if they are readers, I will be asked what kind of romance. Then I have to go one step further and add … adult romance. That’s when the eyebrow cocks and the head tilts and the dreaded words are blurted. “You mean porn?” No, I mean adult romance. Erotica.

Guys tend to think it’s cool. Of course they would. They’re guys. They are envisioning all sorts of sordid things in their head. Wondering secretly if I am writing about my own sex life. I can almost see the gears turning as their eyes glaze over. They ask all kinds of questions.

Women, not so much. Most women tend to get real quiet and back off immediately. I never quite understood that. Why would a woman get frosty, when I tell her that I write erotic fiction for a living? It’s women who read the most erotica anyway! It got me thinking. Am I hitting too close to home? Perhaps hinting at secrets not yet shared with their partners? Am I too open in my sexuality that it makes them uncomfortable? I don’t know. I don’t get it. But who am I to question females? I am, after all, a female. And I certainly know how fickle I can be!

I finally came to the conclusion that we must embrace ourselves for what we are, whether people agree with you or not. If they don’t like how you act or what you do for a living, that’s their problem, not yours. I am an empowered alluring creature. And so are you! It matters not whether you are gay, straight, frigid, open, a geek or a gender bender. Embrace what you’ve got! Say it out loud!

I met the most amazing people in Las Vegas when attending the Erotic Writers Conference. So open-minded! I felt I had finally found my circle. My niche. My gang. It felt good. It felt like home. And I was happy. No judgments here.

Being happy, for me, spurs creativity. And that inspiration awoke my Muse, who in turn prompted my fingers to write the story, ‘The Mist Between Us’ that is included in the anthology, ‘Voyeur Eyes Only.’

I am proud to be an erotic author and I am going to say out loud, “I write erotica!”

May you have the peace to be comfortable in your skin and proud of whatever it is that you do, so that you too, can say it out loud!

Below is a tiny excerpt of my story. I hope you enjoy it.

Oh, and by the way, I am not writing about my own sex life. Do horror writers actually go out and chainsaw heads off so they can pen it realistically? I think not.


Excerpt from ‘The Mist Between Us”

I see you.

Palms pressed flat against the floor to ceiling glass of the Flamingo Hotel. The twinkling lights of the Strip reflect in the window, making your naked body glow electric.

I bet it feels that way, too. Doesn’t it? Electric.

When he approaches you from behind and kicks your legs apart, I can just make out his serpentine tongue playing soft over saliva-shiny lips. He’s tickling the thick nest of black whiskers growing full around his mouth and they glisten wet, holding anticipation in their prickly stiffness.

You must have exhaled quickly, because the sudden fog on the window obscures your pretty face for a moment. But, my disappointment doesn’t last long as the mist fades and I am treated to a most delicious expression of glazed eyes and use-me-please mouth.

Your head lolls slightly sideways, as if it takes just a bit too much energy to hold it erect any longer. And this is when I see him slide one arm around your belly and his other hand reaches between your spread thighs to cover your pussy.

Your lips purse and a second mist comes between us to hang heavy on the glass. This little game you and I have going, this game of hide and reveal, is really turning me on. My pussy is starting to tingle in ways usually reserved only for men. I’ve never reacted like this towards another woman before and I’m a bit confused by it. But, oh my fucking god, your X of a silhouette is so damn sexy framed in that window.


An erotic collection of shorts stories by best-selling authors with a central theme of voyeurism in Las Vegas.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas? Not anymore…

High above the Las Vegas strip, at the top of Skylane Tower, the rooms come with one special amenity; a high powered telescope. When a group of erotica writers descend on Sin City for their annual conference, the voyeurs witness first hand, that some authors live by the adage, ‘write what you know’.

A woman’s curiosity is piqued as she observes a beautiful stranger being bound in silky red rope. A man scouting for new sex slaves, watches as an elegant woman gets more than her hands dirty. A prostitute pulls a switch - sending her lover out on a call. A simple slip of the hand, causes a case of mistaken room identity and a linen closet at a nearby hotel, sees more action than all of them combined. And that is just the beginning…

They say perception is reality. Is what the Voyeur sees through their spyglass just a fantasy; on which side of the lens would you like to be?

Buy Links:


You know that unadulterated, narcissistic pleasure that enjoying Happy Hour brings? Ya … that …

Late bloomer, Penny Amici began writing mid-life in 2009 on her blog, where her weekly Thirsty Thursday short erotic stories always finish off with a provocatively named cocktail recipe.

“Get your juices flowing, it’s Happy Hour!”

Cocktails for the Body. Erotica for the Mind.

Penny’s erotic fiction can also be found online at e[lust] and SexPress.

Follow her on Twitter: @VineyardRoad and @PMAdesigns

Friday, 17 February 2012

Saturday Promo - Rynne Raines!

Reflections (Short Paranormal Romance)


What is an untamable rake to do after being cursed to suffer a fate unknown to man; to experience solitude in the deepest sense of the word? Watch and wait.

As a silent observer in a world he is no longer part of, Rykel Deveau has entertained himself by becoming engrossed in the lives of the living. Society has changed in two hundred years—more importantly, women have changed.

Now, over two centuries later, Rykel finds himself forced to share his living quarters with the most unusual female he has ever come across, sensual artist, Danica Lovel. Between the woman's hideous tattered bathrobe and unsightly pink slippers, he should be appalled, yet bizarrely, he finds himself strongly drawn to her. He wants her. The problem is, she has no idea he exists.


Rykel cringed as he watched Danica waver on unsteady feet. One slip and what little life he had left would end. God only knew what awaited him beyond this! Could there be a worse fate than what he was living now? According to Madelyn’s mother there was, and she hadn’t been bluffing about the curse. At the thought, he couldn’t bear to look any longer; it was as if he were facing a firing squad. Only when he turned away did he hear the legs of the chair scraping against the wooden floor. He glanced back to see Danica sitting again, pawing through the small bag which held her cosmetics. A wave of relief washed over him.

It did not take long for her to apply her makeup; she was appealing enough without it he thought, eyeing her from the corner of the room. She possessed a simple beauty rare among women. The pink hue in her cheeks required no enhancement, the darkness of her hair contrasted nicely with the pale color of her blue eyes and the dimples that appeared when she smiled could only be described as heartwarming. He had never studied her this closely before but now he couldn’t help but notice how truly remarkable she was.

He frowned…what the devil was wrong with him? He’d spent an entire year looking at her without noticing such detail. Damn her conversation with Erica for tying his gut in knots! She defended him, his name, his honor and on top of it with the ferocity of a lioness guarding her cub. No one had ever done such a thing for him, not even women who had proclaimed their undying love for him.

“Look at you,” he heard her whisper as she stared at herself in the mirror. “No amount of makeup will fix the damage on the inside, but at least no one can see it.”

Halfheartedly smiling, she stood to return the mirror to the wall. Rykel got to his feet, trepidation filling him once more. Again, she wavered. With her small stature, she could barely reach the nail and just when her toes arched as high as possible, she wobbled. He glanced down. A small cylinder tube had escaped from her bag and had rolled just behind her toes. He clenched his fists.

Dear God, don’t let her slip.

As the thought fleeted through his mind, she staggered. Rykel leaped to steady her, knowing his actions were fruitless.

The mirror slipped from her fingers and crashed onto the sharp corner of the dressing table. With a loud clatter, it splintered in several directions, shards of glass scattering everywhere.

Goodbye Danica Lovel.

The Awakening (Short Paranormal/Erotic Romance)


Torn between fantasy and reality, Natalie Kendrick wakes each morning on fire, haunted by passionate dreams of Alexander, the nineteenth century gentleman she believes saved her life fifteen years ago. But when living outside the erotic dream world they share becomes unbearable, she seeks the help of a dream analyst. The solution seems simple: dream suppressants. But can Natalie bring herself to forever shut out the only man she has ever loved--from her head, her life and her heart?


Alexander’s hands were like velvet cuffs binding Natalie’s wrists above her head. Gripping a fistful of her auburn curls, he imprisoned her beneath his weight. With the heat in his eyes nearly melting her, she writhed beneath him in false protest.

“Tell me what you desire, Natalie,” he said, his warm breath carressing her cheek.

Her head whipped from side to side as she tried to fight the intollerable urges his lust-filled teasing brought forth within her. Nearly breathless, she stared back at him. “You, I desire you.” Only he had the power to relieve her anguish, her mental and physical torment. Triumph flickered in his gaze and a wicked smile plagued his lips.

“As you wish, my lady,” he said in that sultry, deep voice that made her heartbeat quicken.

Fiercely he ravished her mouth while easing a knee steadily forward, parting her bare thighs. His cool slacks brushed her searing flesh, causing her to shiver with delight. Needing more than ever for him to satisfy her, she surrendered and let him venture further until he touched the tender ache between her open, defenseless legs.

Gasping, Natalie shot straight up in her bed and gripped her chest where beneath her heart pounded in quick, violent pulses. Her eyes flickered back and forth as she scanned her bedroom.


Tears welled in her eyes. She covered her face with her hands and took a shuddering breath. The intensity of these dreams was out of control and the pain she felt waking alone each morning was becoming unbearable. Surely, the vividness of the dreams and the resulting lonely ache would soon drive her insane. There had to be someone—anyone—who could tell her what her dreams meant.