Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Backlist Feature: What the Lady Wants

Content Warning: BDSM


When Keenan's lover, Naro, reveals the deep, dark secret of his past, Keenan must decide how strong their love really is. But Keenan has a secret of his own -- one that's right up Naro's alley.


Candlelight. There should’ve been soft, flickering candlelight, instead of the almost harsh glow of the light orb swinging above them. And soothing music—Keenan should’ve paid someone to stand out- side the bedroom door and play a kempla flute for them—instead of the distant howls and calls of animals floating in through the window. They should’ve been surrounded by wisps of incense—that spicy- sweet blend the heavyset apothecary always sold at Festival—not the same old scent of dinner lingering on the air, mixing with the smells of the world outside. For that matter, he should’ve cooked something special tonight, roasted a bruta pig or filleted a tarkin.

All these thoughts went through Keenan’s mind as he trailed kisses down the right side of Naro’s neck, across his collarbone, then nibbled a path back up to those full, luscious lips. He would’ve liked to have staged the night a little better, made their first time more special, but Naro’s urgency and enthusiasm had convinced him otherwise. At least he’d changed the bedding yesterday. Something had told him to use his best, softest sheets and his nicest—or least tattered, anyway— top blanket: the heavy one with the gold ribbon running around the edges and the birds stitched onto each hand-quilted panel.

The big wooden bed creaked as Keenan leaned over and reached to the bedside table for the bottle of oil—the very expensive, hard to find glandra flower oil he’d had ferried in four months ago in anticipation of a night like this. He’d spent his every waking second for the past year waiting for this moment, and, now that it was here, he couldn’t imagine a more perfect way to spend the evening, poor planning aside.

“Wait. There’s something you should know first.” Naro pushed against Keenan’s chest and sat up a bit.

Keenan choked down a curse. He particularly disliked when anyone anywhere uttered those words, especially when the anyone was a man he was about to fuck, and more especially when the anywhere was his very own bed where they’d already made it half way to doing the deed. Nevertheless, he leaned back and propped himself up on elbow to peer down at Naro.

“It might make you reconsider being with me, but I want to be honest with you.” Naro turned his head to the side, avoiding Keenan’s gaze, and heaved a sigh. “I’m not a man.”

“Your anatomy would disprove that statement.” Keenan glanced down to the erect, dripping cock between Naro’s legs. Definitely male anatomy, and a fine example of such.

“I mean, I am now, of course.” Naro sighed again and squirmed. “But I wasn’t always. I was born a woman.”

Born a woman? Well, that was new. Keenan knew there were babies born sometimes with two sets of parts—male and female—but the Planetary Council usually ordered them killed. And anyway, he’d explored Naro’s body enough to know there was only one set of bits down there. “Care to elaborate on that?”

“My father wanted a boy. He took me to a powerful charmer when I was four and I was placed in a sort of cocoon. A year later, I emerged as a boy.”

“Resexing?” Something Keenan had heard of, though he’d never met anyone who had actually undergone the procedure. From his understanding, resexing was an elaborate process, often painful and quite costly. “Wouldn’t it have been easier just to have another child?”

“My mother had already lost three boys and given birth to two girls. By the time I came along, my father was obsessed.”

Friday, November 22, 2013

NSFW - Thankfully Naughty Giveaway Hop

****PLEASE BE AWARE: I write GLBTQ romance. GLBTQ stands for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer. This means my works feature same sex relationships AND same sex sexual acts. If winning that kind of a book isn't your cup of tea, kindly pass on to the next blog in the hop and leave the spot open for someone else. Thank you.****

For my part in the  hop today, I'm sharing a snippet from my wickedly sexy m/m romp, "A Good Bargain." One lucky commenter will win a free pdf copy. Just leave a comment below, and be sure you include your e-mail. Good luck!!


Awkward and unsure, David has finally reentered the dating scene. A hot, young stud-muffin named Brandon seems like the perfect start, but things get complicated when Brandon makes a startling confession. Is Brandon the right choice for David, or did David just get way more than he bargained for?


“There’s this odd look of mayhem on his upside-down face...”

“I love this part.” David chuckled, watching Brendan Gleeson’s character hanging by his ankle from a tree.

Brandon inched closer, laid his hand on David’s thigh. David bristled under the touch for a moment, forcing himself to calm down and relax. This was what he’d wanted, after all—to start dating again, to experience another man again, to have something more than fond memories and his Fleshlight to look forward to every night.

Brandon moved his hand, slid it just down to the inside of David’s thigh. Waves of fiery need pulsed through David. He tried hard to concentrate on the movie, but all he could think of was Brandon’s willingness. Brandon sighed and snuggled against David’s shoulder, slipping that hand a little higher.

Throat suddenly dry, David thought of all the reasons not to have sex: they’d only just met, Brandon was most likely barely even legal, what kind of example would this be for his son? David sucked in a breath as Brandon spun around and hopped over so he sat in David’s lap, knees straddling him.

Brandon leaned in for another kiss, this time not so soft and gentle. Demanding lips met David’s, and he gave in, opening his mouth and groaning as Brandon’s tongue slipped inside to twine with his. Brandon worked the buttons of David’s shirt open, dipping his hands under the fabric and running his fingers through the hair on David’s chest.

Fuck. Oh, fuck. That touch. David’s resistance melted, and he arched up against Brandon’s hands, tangling his own in Brandon’s long, dark hair, holding Brandon’s head tight. Brandon somehow managed to unbutton his own shirt and he pressed their naked chests together, sliding his arms around David’s back; fingernails raking him from shoulder to just above his waistband.

David broke the kiss with a fevered gasp. “Jump.”

Brandon grinned. “Booyah. Drop trou, baby.” He stood and dug into his pocket as David frantically worked his jeans opened and pushed them and his briefs down to his ankles. “Wow. Nice package, babe.”

David shrugged. At seven inches hard, he’d never considered himself well endowed. “It’ll get the job done.”

Friendly Friday! Featuring Tia Fielding

Tia Fielding Book Blast 

Finnshifters 3: Howl Sweet Howl by Tia Fielding

Life at the Jarvela farm hobbles on when the new year rolls in. Losing his wife and co-alpha in the storm of the decade emotionally paralyzed Sean, though he tries to cope and attempts to pick up the pieces with their children. Rider, another alpha, could give him the love and comfort he needs, but Sean is too depressed to recognize the possibility of having a male partner, and he goes into mental tailspin.

Rider makes the hard decision to leave for a while, and Sean turns his energy and sadness into working on the neighboring Metsala farm with the other members of their farm family. But Sean isn’t really getting better, and that won’t change until he can let his wolf out again. If he doesn’t, he might lose his sanity too.

Book Links: 


Even after a decade, the life that journalist Brent Walsh and Milwaukee homicide detective Shawn Mackey have made together is far from boring. But when a new case cuts a weekend getaway short, they aren’t quite prepared for how it will impact their personal lives. Suddenly there’s too much to juggle: Shawn will be working the case of the sharpshooter who is trying to infect random people with HIV, Brent needs to cover the story but fears a conflict of interest, one of Shawn’s colleagues is
attracted to him, and Brent sincerely needs to mend the painful break with his childhood best friend, Ollie, and heal their broken hearts.

Though the case comes to a close, it’s not the end of their troubles. Shawn and Brent still face a past of old white lies, a present possibility of inviting another man to their bed, and a future with children, not to mention health issues and national fallout from the case. It’s enough to make them want to run away—until they realize they have to face those challenges head-on so they can get on with the life of love they’re hoping for.

Book Links:

Tia talks about her books:

Why, Oh Why?

That's the question I ask myself whenever one of my books gets a review that plainly seems to be a case of the reader not understanding what the book was about. It's the question I ask whenever I realize I've written yet another book people are likely to not understand because it's not your "typical M/M romance." This is the case for both of the books I'm promoting during this blog hop.

With the novel, Positive, I have addressed something that people are shy about in romance novels, HIV. The fact that there's such a strong theme in an M/M romance seems to scare people away from the book. Maybe they think it's too gritty and real a subject for something that's supposed to be a romantic story of people in love. I don't think so.

In Positive, the two main characters, Shawn and Brent, are in a committed, loving, established relationship with one another. It's a story about life with someone you love, even when the world keeps throwing stuff at you, even things you never thought you'd have to handle. It's about perseverance and doing your job when all you want to do is take that loved one of yours, hug him close, and never let go because you're the shield against all the bad stuff, right?

The other thing readers rarely get about this particular book is the one threesome scene in it. Shawn and Brent, despite how happy they are and how good their sex-life, decide to invite a third party into their bed for just one night. It seems to be the general consensus among readers that they just don't see the point. Then again most readers of M/M romance are women, and women in general dislike anything that could be thought of as "cheating."

There's a reason for this particular scene, and if you read carefully, you'll see it. I wouldn't have written it if the characters hadn't been adamant that it needed to happen for some personal growth. I never write stuff for the sake of writing it, especially sex. Never sex. My books don't have that much sex, but those that have more than one or two scenes have the extra ones because they need to be shown, they belong to the story and the story wouldn't be as good without them.

Now, what about Finnshifters, you ask? That's a whole other mess. (She says, chuckling.)

Finnshifters is based in Finland, where I'm from and where I live to this day. The structure of the books, novellas to be exact, is always this: there's a love story as the general thread, but the rest of the book is the story of the farm family where all the shifters live. In book 1 we have Mikael and Maxim, in book two, Noah and Dallas. Now in book 3 which just came out, there's Sean and Rider. Those are the people in the center of the events in each book, but the whole story is so much more than just that.

The themes in Finnshifters 3: Howl Sweet Howl, are dark. They're about love, depression and getting over a loss so deep you can feel it in your bones. It's about accepting new love into your life, and about what family truly means. It's also about a story of a quite literal alpha male, who isn't the kind of "alpha male" we mean we use the words as an adjective.

It's a dark book, but I promise you there's light at the end of the tunnel and no, it's not the oncoming train. Oh and there will most definitely be one or two more books in the series, so we'll see what happens next!

In general—and this is also the only advice I give to someone who wants tips about writing—I always say "Do what your story wants you to." As much as we want to try and fool ourselves into thinking that there are perfect, set rules somewhere we can follow to manufacture the perfect book…. No. There isn't such thing. Different styles, sure, but not one formula that will guarantee you instant success and reader appreciation and, most importantly, that everyone understands it how you mean it.

All we can do, as writers, is to write, write, and write. We learn and become better at what we do with each story, but first those stories have to be written with integrity. Otherwise they won't work. So if you want to write a wonky book nobody will understand but the story needs to be told in a certain way, go for it! You'll feel happier about it once you're done, than if you'd tried to force it into a mold someone else said was best for it. Only you, the characters, and the plot know how they're supposed to be.

Even if you find yourself looking at the book's reviews (which you shouldn't do, by the way, reviews aren't for authors, they're for readers) and going "Why?" while dramatically flopping down on the floor, it's still your story, your book, and you wrote it. Not for yourself, not for your readers, but for the story that needed to be told.

Author Bio:

Tia Fielding is a 30-year-old Scandinavian. She is a self-proclaimed “queer girl”, lover of everything pretty, witty people, words, cats, sarcasm, autumn, and caffeine.

She uses her nights with her head in the clouds and her feet on the coffee table, right next to her laptop. Her days? She uses those by sleeping way too much.

Tia started writing stories early on, almost as soon as she learned how to write. The early stories about horses and ghosts have changed into romantic tales about people in love. She stopped writing at some point in her late teens and early twenties, but began again a few years ago, after finding fan fiction. Tia is not ashamed of her past of borrowing other people’s characters, but has found creating her own much more satisfying.

Social Media Links:

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Backlist Feature: Raine Fall

Content Warning: BDSM, multiple partner intercourse


Vance, Andrew, and Raine are back! We met this sexy trio in "Where He Belongs," but now we get to find out how it all started. Raine's world is turned upside down when his sister, Lilly, dies unexpectedly. She's left him the Dew Drop Inn, and everything seems very cut and dry - he'll sell the place and return to his calm, uncomplicated life. But his former lover, Vance, and Vance's saucy sub, Andrew, have other ideas, and when Vance makes a counter offer, Raine is left wondering what the right thing to do really is. Is everything he's worked for worth it without love? Can two powerful Doms even coexist under the same roof?


A moving truck blocked his spot in the driveway when he arrived back at Vance's house. For a few minutes, Raine didn't move from the car. That truck contained his sister's personal effects. Christ, Benson moved fast. No wonder Lilly had chosen him. Raine folded his arms across his chest and watched as the movers unloaded seven boxes and took them one by one into the house. Seven boxes. Could thirty-two years of life really fit in seven boxes? It seemed far too few. But then Lilly had never been the sentimental type. There'd be no trinkets in those boxes. No saved greeting cards or letters from former lovers.

Andrew stood in the doorway after the movers left, watching Raine. He tilted his head to the side, looking like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Raine got out of the car at last and went inside. He sat down on the couch in the living room, where the boxes had been stacked.

"Not many boxes." Vance leaned in the doorway.

Raine shrugged. "That's Lilly for you." He kicked at one of the boxes. "One of these is probably full of important papers. The rest..." he trailed off. What would be in the rest?

Vance entered the room and flopped down on the couch next to him. "Should we take a look?"

Raine frowned. He wasn't sure he was ready for that, but he wasn't sure he wanted to put it off, either. And he definitely didn't want to drag everything back to his apartment and do it there. "I suppose."

The first three boxes were exactly what he'd expected -- tax records for the bed and breakfast, copies of maintenance agreements, manuals, and warranty paperwork.

"We should probably separate some of this out for the new owners," Vance suggested.

"Yeah." He started putting papers into two piles, one for the inn, one to be filed away.

"May I help, Masters?" Andrew waited by the door, hands folded in front of him, head bowed.

Vance glanced at Raine and shrugged.

"Yes, thank you." Raine kicked at one of the boxes. "You can start with that one. Just tell me what's in there and I'll tell you what pile it goes into."

Andrew hurried over and knelt by the box, humming softly to himself as he opened it and started digging inside.

Raine couldn't suppress a grin. Andrew had definitely been born to be a sub. He envied what Vance had with Andrew. He'd never met anyone he'd wanted to share his life with, let alone live the lifestyle with twenty-four seven. Well, not other than Vance and Andrew, anyhow. But the last thing Andrew needed was two Doms in his life.

"Where would you like cards and letters, Master Raine?"

Raine snapped back to attention. "What?"

"Cards and letters?" Andrew held up a stack of papers.

"Cards and letters?" Raine echoed the words in disbelief. What the hell?

"Let me see those." Vance took the pile from Andrew. He shook his head. "Son of a bitch." He handed the bundle to Raine. "These are all from you. From after you moved."

Raine took the papers with shaking hands and leafed through them. Birthday cards. Christmas cards. Letters. Postcards from business trips. She'd kept everything he'd ever sent her.

"Ribbons?" Andrew held up a bunch of different colored ribbons that had been braided together.

Raine raised an eyebrow. "I have no idea what those are."

"They're off flowers." Vance pointed to Andrew's hand. "That one -- the long blue one with the tulips on it? That's from Sully's Florist Shop down the street."

Raine's stomach did flip-flops. Not flowers from old boyfriends, but from him. When he looked closer, he recognized each ribbon from a delivery of flowers he'd sent her over the years.

"I never would've pegged her to be the kind to keep stuff like this," Vance murmured.

Raine shook his head. "She wasn't." She'd told him once that he was the exception to the rule when it came to most things. Maybe that explained the boxes full of mementos. He handed the bundle back to Andrew. "Just keep those in that box. I'll go through them later." Or never. Probably never.

Andrew put the papers back and secured the lid. He opened the next box and frowned.

"What is it?" Vance asked.

"More cards and letters, Master, but not from Master Raine." He held an envelope up and squinted at it. "Amelia--"

"Jesus Christ." Raine leaned over and snatched the envelope away.

"Your mom?" Vance raised an eyebrow.

"It would appear Lilly had a few secrets." Raine glanced at the date on the postmark. Two years ago. "How many of these are there?"

Andrew rifled through the box quickly. "The entire box, Master."

Lilly had been in contact with their mother for years and hadn't said anything to him. He felt the pain of that like a knife in his side. Though he wouldn't have agreed, he wouldn't have held their relationship against her. He hated that she'd felt she couldn't tell him.

"Did they reconcile?" Vance asked.

Raine shrugged. "So it would seem. I don't know how, or why, frankly, but..." He trailed off. But apparently his sister had been a bigger man, proverbially, than him.

Andrew let out an anguished sound. "Your father's obituary, Master."

Raine took the scrap of newspaper and read it over. Donald St. James. Loving father. Devoted husband. Never missed a day of work in his life. Survived by his son, Raine, daughter, Lilly, and beloved wife, Amelia. Raine closed his eyes, remembering the day the call had come in. Amelia -- he still couldn't think of her as his mother -- had kept him home from school because he'd had a fever. When the phone rang around lunchtime she'd yelled for him to answer. He'd stayed on the line after she'd picked up the other one, heard firsthand the words that would change his life forever. There'd been an accident. His father had fallen into one of the vats at the plant, struck his head and drowned before anyone could get to him.

Raine remembered going to the funeral, all the local men patting him on the shoulder, telling him he was the man of the house now, telling him he had to look after his mother and sister. And he remembered, too, the day he woke up to find out he and Lilly were on their own, a note, scrawled hastily in black magic marker, stuck under a magnet on the fridge. I can't do this anymore. I need some time. Your Aunt Martha will come stay with you. I need some space. I love you both. Mom.

Raine chuckled bitterly. Aunt Martha, the alcoholic, had spent most of her time face down on the couch. At thirteen years old, Raine had learned to sew, cook, clean, and take care of his six-year-old sister. Over the years, his skill set had widened. Not only could he make an informed decision about tampons by the age of seventeen, he could French braid hair, apply toenail and fingernail polish without one slip, and coordinate eye makeup with jewelry and handbags. God, no wonder he was gay. He opened his eyes to find both Andrew and Vance staring at him, wide eyed.

"Are you all right, Master Raine?"

He smiled softly at Andrew. "I'm fine. Just reminiscing." He pointed at the remaining two boxes. "Let's get on with this. They're not sorting themselves." He pushed the pain away. He pushed the guilt away. Get back to the task at hand.

Monday, November 18, 2013

Spotlight: "Sharing Nicely" by Victoria Blisse (m/f/m)

Two hot, sexy billionaires know what they want and they want her, but will they be happy to share nicely?

Kerry Matthews is used to stress—she runs her own high-end London club called Diamonds, but what she isn’t used to is attention from two very persuasive and powerful men.
Darren Bennett and Greg Stamford are life-long rivals, but call a truce to spend one night with sassy, curvy Kerry. They’re not content to share forever though. They both have a selfish desire to possess her completely.
Darren buys her seductive lingerie, flowers and chocolates, Greg flies her to Paris for a romantic break, cleans her flat and makes her breakfast in bed. Both vying to cement their place in her heart. She needs to decide between them but is dazzled by their persuasive personas and extravagant gifts.
Reader Advisory: This book contains a scene of MFM Ménage and some violence.


“So, are you two ready?” he asked. “I’ll get Chester to bring the limo round.”

“We can go in mine,” Darren snapped.

“Oh, don’t start this again.” I shook my head. “Decide nicely or I’ll be getting the damn Tube home.”

If the billionaires could be so abrupt with me, I’d be snappy with them.

“Fine,” Darren shrugged, “but we’re going back to my hotel.”

“Where are you staying?”

While the boys argued amongst themselves I took the date book and locked it away in my desk. I’d filled up a lot of the year and some dates had drifted into the next one. With the business I’d secured I was guaranteed to finish the fiscal year pleasantly in profit. I might even be able to afford a holiday. If I could persuade myself to stay away from Diamonds long enough.

When I walked back over to them the boys were silent.

“So, are we actually ready now?”

Greg reacted first, slipping his arm into mine and smiling.

“Yes, it seems me and Darren are staying at the same hotel.”

“Wonderful,” I smiled, intensely relieved. “Lead the way.”

Darren took hold of my other arm and we strode out together. I wasn’t expecting the barrage of flashing lights and yelled questions that greeted us. I supposed I had been a little naïve. The boys, with the aid of some huge security guards, pushed past the demands and we scooted into the back of a shiny black limousine. The mellow scent of leather filled the interior. Everything sparkled. I felt like we were in a separate car to the driver who was way, way down at the front.

“Are we going to the hotel, sir?” a polite voice asked. It sounded like it came from behind me, which was puzzling until I realised there was some kind of intercom device. Greg reached to the side of the limo and pressed a button.

“Yes, please, Chester.”

I would have liked more space to actually enjoy the ride home but I was crowded by two competing men and so spent my time flipping my gaze from one to the other, answering questions. Both were squeezed up close to me and both seemed determined to seduce me. I found that mind-spinningly crazy.

“What perfume are you wearing?” Darren ducked his head to sniff at my neck. I was very aware of his lips hovering just above my pulse point. I wished he’d kiss me there.

“Oh, I don’t know. Something fruity.” My mind went completely blank.

“You smell good enough to eat.” Darren continued and his lips did touch my skin but only for the briefest second. My whole body tightened at the gentle kiss.

“Your dress is beautiful.” It seemed Greg was not to be outdone—in fact he boldly ran his hand down my body from my shoulder, over my breast and lower. “I love the feel of velvet.”

“Thank you,” I squeaked then cleared my throat. “Thanks, I love velvet too.”

Tension zinged through me, sexual and otherwise. These two guys who I’d only just met were making me into a battlefield. They were warring to control me.

I wasn’t a woman who enjoyed being mollycoddled. I took decisions, I dived into situations and I expected all of my staff to be respectful to both men and women. I’d reprimanded several for sexism and would go as far as to sack someone if they didn’t change their ways. I should have been appalled by the situation—I wasn’t just a trophy or a business contract. I should have kicked up a fuss and left then and there.

But I didn’t. I liked being the centre of attention. I liked being the prize they both wanted.

I waited for the next move but we pulled up outside the hotel so I had to wait until we exited the car. Again, both men linked arms with me. It was cold outside but apart from the cool breeze on my cheeks I barely felt it because their hard bodies protected me from the elements.

They whisked me across the marble frontage, past the liveried doorman and into a huge reception area. It glittered with prestige and marble. Everything was perfect, neat and tidy. There was nothing overly ornate or showy but you could tell by the purposeful minimalism that this was a very classy place. The kind of place I’d only ever imagined visiting.

We moved across the hall into the bar. Again it was big, shiny but understated. The bar was long and all the staff behind it were in immaculately cut uniforms. They all looked smart and tidy and I looked on with envy. I wished I could get my own staff to look so impressive.

“What would you like to drink?” Darren asked and smirked at Greg.

“I’d love a glass of water, really,” I replied, “I’m so thirsty.”

“I’ll get them to send over some water too, but should we have some champagne? It was a very good night for us all after all.”

Both Darren and Greg had won awards and I was sure they’d both made several deals too as they played the room.

“Yes, why not?” Greg answered before me. “Champagne sounds good.”

When Darren moved away Greg turned to me.

“Look, Kerry, I really would love to spend the night with you but it is killing me to be nice to him.”

“This is you being nice?”

“Exactly.” He almost smiled. I found it surprisingly endearing. “Please can we dump the other guy?”

“No.” I was very firm, it surprised even me. “No, I said I wanted to spend time with you both, so that is what’s going to happen. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

“God, woman. You’re infuriatingly stubborn.” He growled.

“Now that is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.” I laughed.

Greg sighed. “I’m not used to being told what to do, Kerry. I’m the one in control.”

“I’d noticed, but if you want me, you play by my rules.” It was fun playing him at his own game.

“Oh, I want you.” His growl turned to a gravelly purr. It wasn’t cute, it was the noise of a killer beast merely at rest. Any moment he could pounce and rip me apart. It turned me on. I wriggled in my seat and my damp knickers chafed against my plump lips.

“Then you’ll share nicely.” I leaned in and kissed him. He was shocked, almost as much as I was. His lips were hard and ungiving for a moment—I thought maybe I’d pushed him too far—but then they melted, opened and pushed back and I felt his pent-up arousal running into me. I released my frustrated desire with every move of my lips.

We pulled apart and I had to pant to regain my breath while he licked his lips like he was savouring the taste.

“I’ll do it for you,” he said. I was intoxicated with the power of having him under my control.

“Hey, I want one too.” Darren came back, placed a glass of water before me and pressed his lips to mine. His were plump and giving. He prodded his tongue between my lips, into my mouth, taking control of the kiss and control of me. I felt like I might explode into a million pieces. I hadn’t been kissed in months and now I’d had two smoking hot smooches in as many minutes from two very hot but very different men.

“Okay,” I gasped when he pulled away, “now you’re even.”

The guys glowered at each other. I looked around the room to calm my nerves. Not a single person looked at us. Obviously such things happened often in bars of high-class hotels. It didn’t happen often to me. At all, in fact. I wondered if I was dreaming. I pinched my thigh below the table. It hurt. I definitely wasn’t dreaming.

A tall, skinny waiter brought us a bottle of champagne stood in a silver ice bucket. Balanced on his tray were three tall flutes. He transferred everything to our table with great pomp. I was in awe of his skill.

“Thank you,” I called. He nodded his head politely and walked off.

I knew a little about wine and champagne, only because my barman told me what I needed to order. The champagne in the bucket was clearly expensive—I’d never even heard of the name—and it was suitably French, obviously. I was sure Darren had ordered the most expensive in the place just to outdo Greg. I outdid both of them by just sipping at my water.

“Shall we take the rest of the bottle to my room?”

I nearly choked when I heard what Greg had said.


“Well, you wanted us to share nicely and I don’t think that even in an establishment like this where confidentiality is taken seriously we could share you, nicely or otherwise, right here in the bar.”

It took a moment to register that Greg Stamford, billionaire high-flyer and serious hottie, was propositioning me for a threesome. I’d agreed to it earlier, but it still seemed too much like a fairy tale to be actually real.

“I agree, mate. We’d get chucked out. Want to go to my room? It’s the Ambassador Suite.” Darren announced this like I should be impressed. Maybe it was the most expensive room in the hotel? I wasn’t sure.

“My room has the best view over the city,” Greg snapped.

“Yes, that’s what they tell people who can’t get in the Ambassador Suite.”

“Boys, stop it.” My voice was quite loud. The low murmur of conversation stopped for a moment, then carried on.

“Look. You are both very rich, I get it. You both want to be top dog, I get that too, but would you stop bickering like bloody schoolboys, okay? I am very flattered, truly, and I never in a million years would have imagined being in this situation…” I left the sentence hanging and gathered my thoughts.

“Please don’t say no.” Darren’s smile dissipated. “I’m sorry.”

“Well—” I tried to continue with my tirade. I had the moral high ground. I was going to say thanks but no thanks and leave both gentleman hanging, but say that I hoped they’d both still honour their bookings. I was going to make a stand, I really was. Then… Well, I’m not quite sure what happened.

“I’m sorry too,” Greg added. “We’re just billionaires used to getting our own way. Let’s go to the Ambassador Suite, it’s a lovely room.”

Had I heard that right? Had Greg Stamford apologised and ceded to his most hated rival?

“Yes, let’s,” Darren nodded. “Please, Kerry?”

I challenge any woman alive to not cave in when hit with not one but two sets of puppy dog eyes from intensely handsome men. I couldn’t do it.

“Come on then,” I whispered, “lead the way.”

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Bio: Victoria Blisse is a Mother, Wife, Christian, Manchester United Fan and Award Winning Erotica Authoress. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco and Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies. Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut by the Sea Event taking place at Scarborough Library (UK) on the 22nd June 2013. A day dedicated to Erotica with a mini erotic marketplace and lots of Author Readings, Fun Giveaways and Exciting Talks. She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker (She is TEB's Resident "Naked Chef") and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories. Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

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