|Posted by Alyssa Drake on February 7, 2018 at 6:30 PM||comments (0)|
Tempting Him (An Obsessed Novella)
By Jeanne St. James
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, BDSM
On Sale for a limited time for 99¢ in the Love Me Hard Boxed Set
A set of 15 hot & spicy romances that will tickle your fancy!
It’s not just a love story, it’s an obsession...
Every time my neighbor jogs past my house, I do my best to tempt him. Washing my car, watering my lawn, doing yoga in the grass with my all my assets in the air. I’m not sure if he notices me, but I sure can’t miss him.
Then one day he falls... into my arms and into my bed. Surprisingly, we’re better matched than I would’ve expected. But when he reveals who he is, my world comes crashing down around me because if he finds out my secret we’re finished before we’ve even begun.
Three days a week, I put myself through hell by jogging through my neighborhood. I suffer through it simply to catch a glimpse of a woman I don’t know. Every time I pass her house she’s outside tempting me. Until one day I fall... over my feet, over my heart, over this woman and into her arms.
I know nothing about her, but I want to discover everything. Even her deepest, darkest secrets. However, little does she know, I have one, too. One that may sever the tie that binds us.
I watch as sweat drips one bead at a time onto my over-priced yoga mat. The sun is so freaking hot and here I am, like an idiot out in my yard, bent over in the downward facing dog pose for the past million years. Okay, not years... maybe more like a million seconds. But my body has decided it hates me (nothing new) and is cramping while my head spins. Even better, my over-priced yoga pants have clawed their way up my crack (as well as one other place). And still...
What the hell?
Despite my eyeballs’ attempt at bulging out of their sockets, I peek at my sports watch. He should’ve been by here two-point-five minutes ago.
The man is usually like clockwork, jogging by my house on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons every week. For the most part, anyway. Though, thunderstorms seem to discourage him from his cardio. (Not sure why.)
On those days, I would be willing to recommend another type of cardio to get his heart pumping. And maybe get his hips pumping, too.
Anyway... look at me! Doing yoga on my front lawn, on the uneven grass, waiting like a desperate woman. (I’m not, really, I promise! It just looks that way.)
But, damn, the man is fine and when he jogs past shirtless, he’s shiny with sweat, which makes me want to drag him inside and give him a sponge bath with my tongue.
My thighs start shaking as I peek between my spread legs, because, of course, my ass has to be facing the street. I want him to get a good look at what I’m offering.
I may even wiggle it a little when he jogs by.
That is if I don’t pass out into a heap first.
Then sigh again a little louder just for good measure.
Maybe it would be easier if I just took up jogging. Wear one of those sexy sports bras, put my hair up in a cute little pony tail, plaster a smile on my face and follow him around the block at a perky pace.
I’ll die first.
Why I ever started this shit, I’ll never know. No, I lie. I know. I thought, “Cade, dude, wouldn’t it be great to up your cardio game and start running?”
I answered myself with, “Yeah, man, that would be great and fun, too!” And then maybe I won’t get so winded when I play basketball with the guys. I’ll have more endurance, I’ll look and feel younger, and...
Running sucks. And I don’t even think what I do can be considered as running. No, it’s more of a jog. Or a lope. Or trotting like a donkey with a lame hoof.
My chest burns, my leg muscles spasm, my balls feel like they’re floating in a puddle of sweat, and the crack of my ass...
I’m not even going there. (Trust me, you don’t want to, either.)
So, why don’t I just stop the torture? (Good question!)
I’ve asked myself that for the past month.
And the answer has always been...
I sacrifice three days a week just to see a woman I don’t know.
Not sure why, but she always seems to be outside at the same time of the day. For that reason, I make sure that’s when I go running (jogging, trotting, limping) by.
Am I crazy to torture myself because I find someone attractive and I’d like to get her attention?
Why don’t I just knock on her door and ask her out? (Another good question.)
Maybe I want to impress her with my physique and athletic prowess.
But honestly, something has to give and it has to be soon. Because this running shit sucks balls and I’d rather stick razor blades under my fingernails.
At least my slow trot is the right speed to observe her without being creepy. Walking would be too slow and obvious. Driving too quick and useless, not to mention dangerous when she’s clearly a distraction.
And, of course, my pace always allows me enough time to enjoy the show she gives me.
On Wednesday, she was out washing her car, her top soaked, her nipples pushing through the thin fabric of her shirt, and when she bent over to scrub the hood of said car, my boner just about popped out of my shorts. You know, those little nylon running shorts. The ones with the mesh liner, clearly not made for sexual arousal.
But I digress.
The week before, she was out watering her lawn. And, once again, her top was wetter than her grass.
Here’s the thing, the entire neighborhood has built-in sprinklers.
Maybe hers are broken.
I grunt as I turn the corner and try to push myself a little faster since I’m off my game today. I’m later than normal, and I want my running to look as effortless as possible. It needs to look as though I’ve got my shit together and I’m not secretly suffering.
My eyes swing to the left as I jog. She’s the fourth house up. The brick ranch home with the two-car garage.
Two houses to go yet.
My eyes widen as I see her ass in tight black yoga pants in the air. My step stutters but I can’t stop my momentum.
My mouth becomes an O, partly because I’m falling over my own two feet, the other because she’s dropped to her knees and is now arching backwards grabbing onto her heels, her generous tits straining against her top.
Last thing I see is her blinking upside down at me as her head hangs down her back.
Suddenly, I’m staring at nothing but pavement (and my loss of manhood). The little bit of oxygen I had sucked into my lungs is now gone.
Then, what seems like seconds later, bare, cute, red painted toes come into view.
I want to just die.
About the Author:
JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today bestselling erotic romance author who loves an alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing. Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here: BookHip.com/MTQQKK
To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter: www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup
Amazon Author Page: tinyurl.com/JeanneStJames
Review & Book Crew: www.facebook.com/groups/JeannesReviewCrew/
|Posted by Alyssa Drake on February 2, 2018 at 5:45 PM||comments (1)|
Hot Dad by Whitley Cox
Erotic Romance/Romantic Comedy Stand-alone
Heat level: 5 flames. Explicit sexual content, vulgar language and BDSM scenes.
Since the moment I laid eyes on her I’ve wanted her.
But I wasn’t ready.
The kids were my world and my wounds were still raw.
For six months, I watched her from afar. Dreamed of her, lusted after her, fantasized…
But all that’s about to change. I’m finally ready to take the plunge and start dating again. And now that I know she’s single, I’m going to do this right and win Harper. I want her mind, I want her body, I want her heart.
And when she gives me all access, no limits, I know she’s the one for me.
He’s the one we all call Hot Dad at playgroup. The one who makes my knees weak and my panties wet every time he walks through the door. We all eye-fuck the bejesus out of him, and dream of his tongue between our legs.
But my kid is my world, and I’m a frumpy mom with a hole in the bum of her yoga pants. What could he ever see in me? So when Sam calls out of the blue, I’m stunned.
Now if only the kids can stop cock-blocking us, and his psycho ex would go away.
He’s turned out to be a master Dom and I’m willing and eager to be taught how to be the perfect little submissive.
“Jesus Murphy,” Amy said with a whisper chuckle. “You two need to go get a room. There are children here. You can cut the sexual tension in this place with a knife.”
I shook my head, removing my gaze from Sam. He didn’t follow but instead continued to watch me. I let out a huff as I turned to face Amy. “It’s all him. He’s looking at me like he wants to take me into the janitor’s closet and have his way with me.”
She elbowed me in the ribs and bobbed her eyebrows. “Maybe he does.”
A few moments later, I was busy chatting with my mom posse, trying my damnedest to ignore Sam when my phone vibrated in my pocket.
S: You look really nice today. I like the high-tops.
Did he just winky-face me?
I glanced up to find him with his back to me as he played trains with Landon. I texted him back.
H: Are you TRYING to out us to the “coven”?
S: The coven?
H: My mom posse.
S: You call yourselves the coven?
H: As a joke. More importantly, are you trying to out us? Those looks were anything but innocent. Amy said she could cut the tension in this room with a knife.
Notice I didn’t say sexual tension. I’d had to delete that at first. I didn’t want to presume anything or, more importantly, give him any ammo.
S: What kind of “tension” are you referring to? I’m not tense. Are you tense? Why are you tense?
Damn him! Even when he was texting and not even looking at me, he was being cute and getting me all flustered.
H: I think you know EXACTLY what kind of tension.
H: Oh God!
S: You’re blushing.
My head popped up from my phone. Sure enough, he had swiveled his big sexy body back around and was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Landon, his phone in his hand.
H: Because you’re trying to embarrass me.
S: I’m not trying to do anything but get to know you. And now I know you embarrass easily. I also know I like it when you wear that tight sweater. Shows off your …
With a wry smile, I lifted my head. He was watching me. My phone vibrated again, and I looked down.
S: Elbows. You have GREAT elbows.
H: You’re incorrigible.
S: I prefer the word smitten, but to each their own.
“Are you two sexting?” Amy’s voice was low right next to my ear. Her breath smelled like coffee with a hint of chocolate. The woman always had chocolate in her pocket and would slip a square in her mouth when she didn’t think any of us were looking.
I shook my head. “Not sexting.”
“But you are texting?”
“Is he being all adorable and flirty?”
She bounced on her heels a couple of times. “Oooh, I am so good at this. You two are too cute.”
“Shhhh.” I shot her a dirty look. She was getting loud, and the other moms, no matter how boisterous and noisy their conversation about diaper rash was at the moment, all seemed to have ESP when it came to gossip.
“Oh, relax. My lips are sealed. But this is so exciting.”
I brought my gaze back up to Sam and smiled at him. He smiled back, and the butterflies in my abdomen—the wild and crazy kind—started to dance. “It really is.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A Canadian West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have a spirited toddler and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn't end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it's not quite wine o'clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes.
A lover of all things decadent; wine, cheese, chocolate and spicy erotic romance, Whitley brings the humorous side of sex, the ridiculous side of relationships and the suspense of everyday life into her stories. With mommy wars, body issues, threesomes, bondage and role playing, these books have everything we need to satisfy the curious kink in all of us.
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You can also find her here:
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/CoxWhitley/
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|Posted by Alyssa Drake on September 14, 2016 at 2:45 PM||comments (0)|
Come join me on Friday, 9/16 at 12pm (PST) for a Scavenger Hunt hosted by Emergency Book Blog.
They will be featuring a spotlight on me (Alyssa Drake) as well as offering a fantastic prize for the winner...one copy of A Perfect Plan: Wiltshire Chronicles and an Amazon GC.
Stop by for a chance to win!
|Posted by Alyssa Drake on August 17, 2016 at 4:35 PM||comments (0)|
A great big thank you to Andrea at The Book Girl who posted her author interview today featuring lil' me. So excited! It's my first interview. Check out her blog at http://theyounggirlwholovedbooks.blogspot.com/2016/08/author-interview-alyssa-drake.html?spref=fb.