Saturday, November 18, 2017

What's in a Name? By Suz deMello (#writing #naNoWriMo)

I'm sure I'm not the first writer to blog about the significance of names, nor will I be the last. There's even a wiki about choosing character names! 

Authors carefully choose names. Why?

First, the right name must fit in with your story. Tolkien wouldn't have called one of his characters John Smith--John wouldn't fit in with Bilbo Baggins or Galadriel. 

Secondly, some names are so famous that popular references have attached. Don't name a character Adolf, Madonna, Elvis or Marilyn--that choice will jar a reader right out of the story, and that's the last thing that an author wants. We want to keep the reader immersed in the wonderful, engrossing world we've created.
But an author can use that to her advantage. In Spy Game, my hero is named Richard Rexford--a conscious aping of Robert Redford. Richard is also a handsome, athletic blond, and I wanted readers to make the association.  

contains Ocean Dreams and
Viking in Tartan
Few readers picked it up, but I named a character in Ocean Dreams Sandi Ricks, after a character in the old Flipper TV show--Ocean Dreams is about a very unusual dolphin.

Also, I try to avoid too many names in a story that start with the same letter, which will confuse a reader, especially if there are a lot of characters introduced quickly. Avoid Martin and Maria, Barbara and Bobby, Jane and Jenny.

I avoid names that are unpronounceable. Readers don't only look at words on the page, but their minds are reading to them. When I as a reader encounter an odd name, I find myself falling out of the book and trying to figure out how the name is pronounced. So I avoid Gaelic names that are confusing. None of my characters will ever be named Airdsgainne or Slaibhin. In futuristics or sci-fi, one often encounters names with accents or apostrophes in odd paces. Avoid these. They distract and may even annoy a reader.
Every name has an intrinsic meaning. Dickens was famous for his interesting names, which often reflected characters' personalities. The Artful Dodger is only too obvious. Esther Summerson (Bleak House) is one of Dickens' most lovely characters, lightening one of his longest and yes, most bleak books. Stryver in A Tale of Two Cities is, indeed, an ambitious striver.

I often take my cues from Dickens. In a book I wrote for Harlequin/Silhouette, The Ranger and the Rescue, the heroine calls herself Serenity Clare, a name she chose for herself after she left an abusive husband. She pursues serenity and clarity in her life.

The hero of Viking in Tartan, Erland Blodson, is a warrior and also a vampire. The name Erland means "leader." Blodson is also obvious.
In my memoir, Perilous Play, I had to rename a man I know in order to protect his privacy. I chose the name Trapper Hart.

It wasn't a very good relationship.
I also look at the sounds of names. In Queen of Shadow, a futuristic, I created a name--Storne--for my hero, using a lot of strong-sounding consonants. 

If you're a writer, how do you choose names?

If you're a reader, what character names are particularly memorable for you?

Friday, November 17, 2017

#Win #KindleFires ~ $50 #Amazon #Giftcard + Limited #sales & #99cents #Preorder ALL INSIDE!


Limited time at #99cents during #preorder #NewRelease #paranormalromance #vampires #shifters #gargoyles, oh my!

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OR SIGN UP for our Naughty Beasts Review Tour to get a FREE copy of Naughty Beasts and a chance to WIN a $50 Gift Card with your early review!


AND we are still taking sign ups for the Phantasia Review Tour!

And TWO (2) chances to WIN a KindleFire LOADED with Naughty Literati books INCLUDING:

Naughty Beasts!

and Naughty Phantasia!

AND DON'T FORGET... NAUGHTY GETAWAYS is 40% off on KOBO until Nov. 20 with promo code at check out!

Naughty Getaways: Eleven Sultry Stories
Box Set promo on Kobo!

40% off with promo code 40BOX includes Contemporary, Fantasy, Historical, Magic, New Adult, Older Woman/Younger Man, Paranormal, Rubenesque, Sci-Fi, Stepbrother, Threesome Romance from best-selling authors writing as The Naughty Literati!

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Boxed Set: Summer Nights of Delight - by Marianne Stephens

Summer Nights of Delight - Latest boxed set from authors at Romance Books '4' Us!

With the summer months gone, the temperature will still stay hot when you read this heart stopping collection of passion and seduction. Brought to you by the authors of Romance Books 4 Us, and written by today’s hottest bestselling authors, there is a little bit of something for everyone in each story. So run, don’t walk, to your nearest online eBook retailer and one-click this compilation of sexy reads which will pull you into… summer nights of delight.

My story: 

Fellow professor Nate catches Carla practicing her stripper routine for an amateur night contest. Mutual attraction leads to a lusty affair. Her secret’s out…and she’ll soon discover his well-hidden one.
Genre - Contemporary    
Heat Level - 4 (Steamy to Scorching)

Visit: for buy links, excerpts, and blurbs. 
Marianne Stephens

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

That eternal question, Print or Digital

There is a very clever article on The Huffington Post about the demise of the print industry, written by J.A. Konrath.

As a primarily electronically published author, I’m a big fan of digital publishing. No trees destroyed, no remaindered books pulped and adding to the mountain of garbage we produce each day, no transportation costs adding to our carbon footprint.

Then there is the speed and ease of purchase. Anywhere I am in the world, no matter what time of day or night, I can go to a publisher’s website, and download the book of my choice and be reading inside a few minutes. For considerably less than I would pay in a traditional, brick-and-mortar store. Or I can go to one of the big multi-publisher sites and scroll around through the genres to find half a dozen new books or new-to-me authors, just like in a bookstore, only I can be reading them in moments without ever leaving my comfy chair.

As an author I acknowledge there’s something special about holding my book in my hands, and autographing it for a fan. Quite a few of my books are out in print and I love having copies of them. I also hate the downside of e-publishing where people pirate my book and “share” it with their one thousand closest friends, without giving thought to the fact that if they don’t pay me for my work, I’m not going to be able to pay my bills. Another factor is one of the saddest things I’ve seen is a book lover sitting surrounded by her books, crying because she has to get rid of many of them due to lack of space in her home. For her, the trauma was similar to farewelling old friends. At least with digital books, thousands can be stored safely on a single external hard drive.

Overall I see digital publishing as the way of the future, although print books will probably be around for many years yet. So my answer to that eternal question, Print or Digital, is both for now.

Fortunately for readers, all the Naughty Literati boxed sets are available in digital and in print forms, so you can choose your favorite format.

Berengaria Brown

Monday, November 6, 2017

When Do You Start Reading Christmas Stories?

By Katherine Kingston

I confess to being one of those curmudgeonly types who hates seeing Christmas decorations popping up in stores even before Halloween. I have mixed feelings about seeing them before Thanksgiving, but I do start my shopping and preparations pretty early. I have a reason, of course. Some of my family lives overseas and I have to get packages off pretty early.

But I do kind of like getting in the spirit early. Having my shopping done well in advance actually gives me time to relax and get in the joyful and thoughtful feel of the time of year. But I do hate when the commercial frenzy of Christmas encroaches on the beautiful celebration of Thanksgiving.

Black Friday is bad enough but I can live with it, by which I mean that I will never, ever go near any retail establishment on that day, but if you want to…well, happy hunting. However I strenuously object to having the commercial nightmare encroaching on what should be an occasion for focusing on family, friends, and gratitude for all the blessings we’ve been given.

Okay, that part of the rant is over now.  My reading life is a completely different thing. I love, love, love Christmas stories, and I'll read them almost any time of year. But somewhere around the first of November, I start looking for them. They help get me in the right frame of mind for the holidays, both Thanksgiving and Christmas.

When do you start reading Christmas stories?  Or do you?

And since we're on the subject, may I suggest a Christmas story to you - but only if you're into BDSM.

When Maggie gets a note from a very unofficial Secret Santa during the office’s holiday gift exchange, she’s surprised to be tempted by it. This Secret Santa offers to help fulfill her wilder sexual fantasies, those fantasies she’s never admitted to anyone else. Normally the very professional, uptight Maggie wouldn’t consider doing anything so risky. She wants a husband and family, but she also has kinky sexual fantasies and no man has ever moved her.

Maggie agrees to Santa’s proposal, and her first few anonymous encounters with him are a revelation, showing her levels of sensuality she’s never experienced before. But when she meets the man behind the gifts and the glorious kisses, her life gets seriously complicated.

As Maggie begins to fall in love with him, she faces two choices—longing for husband and family, and continuing a relationship that fulfills her in ways she never believed possible.

Order at Amazon    B&N    Kobo    ITunes    Inktera

Saturday, November 4, 2017

Excerpt from Swing Follies by Regina Kammer

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!

Find it here:

Blimey. Delia’s besotted. With Edward. But when an old flame from Edward’s revolutionary past swings by and steams up the laboratory, has Delia missed her chance at love?
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*

Copyright © Regina Kammer, 2017


Newcastle, England
April 1879
Professor Edward Ockham gripped the ratchet handle more tightly as a frisson of lust roiled within. Before him his lovely assistant Delia Bennett awkwardly adjusted herself in a swing suspended four feet above the linoleum, her skirt and petticoats in riotous disarray. She was charming in her helplessness. Her arms, secured by leather wrist cuffs, stretched above her head. Her stocking-clad legs, extended and splayed, were held in the air by silken slings supporting each ankle and knee. Her rosy cheeks and bemused expression were slightly at odds with the bizarre eroticism of her predicament.
The sound of her name tripping off his tongue echoed like a melody in the cavernous laboratory, the gentle hiss and thrum of the boiler adding a syncopated undertone.
Delia. No longer the more formal Miss Bennett during working hours. She was, by agreement, Delia.
He could say her name over and over and over again. Delia, Delia, Delia.
Her chocolatey eyes widened. “Yes, Profess—Edward?”
Edward. She was Delia and he was Edward.
“Are you comfortable?”
She wriggled her buttocks, each pillowy cheek cradled in its own sling leaving her quim exposed to the air. “Perhaps something across my bum, you know, a bolster above the crack—” She suddenly blushed crimson to the roots of her raven curls.
The door to the laboratory swung open with a dramatic flair.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” Sebastian Broadchurch sauntered in from the hall, a little rumpled from whom and whatever he had done the night before. He stopped before Delia, his predatory stare traversing her as he combed his fingers through his flaxen hair. “Our Miss Bennett finds herself in yet another delicious quandary.”
“Good morning, Sebastian.” Edward arched a brow. Morning had but a minute left to it.
Sebastian brandished a scowl before turning his attention to the rigging holding Delia. He pursed his lips as he studied the mechanism. His gaze followed the silken slings upward to where they attached to a swivel bolt mounted to a cable. He perused the cable to where it connected to a system of belts and pulleys housed on a sturdy wooden frame. He glanced at the diminutive steam engine then grunted in comprehension as he took in the exposed gear shaft and long ball-end lever of the control box.
“It spins, does it?” he said.
“It does,” replied Edward.

Friday, November 3, 2017

Excerpt from How The Alien Stole Christmas by Belle Scarlett

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!

Find it here:

On board a deep space station, Christmas Trent learns her sexy cyber lover, who may not be human, wants to steal her for his own.
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*

Copyright © Belle Scarlett, 2017


I asked if you understand me, soldier.
Christie needed release, and she needed it now. She gulped some air and started unzipping her flight uniform in anticipation of the next phase of their play.
“Yes, sir. I understand. Please, sir, permission to touch myself?”
The computer was silent for a moment. Then Blitz’s next message unfurled across her vid-screen.
Permission denied.
Christie froze in disbelief, her hand in mid-zip on her flight suit.
What? She glared at his words. Screw that, she thought rebelliously, and seriously considered disobeying a direct order from him for the first time ever.
Blitz seemed to read her mind.
Don’t even think about it, sweetheart. I’ll know if you’re being naughty or nice.
Frustration sizzled through her as she stopped unzipping her suit. Damn her submissive streak. She hadn’t even known she possessed one until she’d encountered Blitzen. As an experienced sexual dominant he had recognized her latent submissive qualities right away, and quickly set about training her in the art of pleasing him during their online play. Now her body wanted to do whatever he told it to do. And that was starting to prove freaking inconvenient.
“Ha. What can you do about it from there? Text me a lump of coal for my stocking?”
Don’t sass me, soldier. You don’t want to find out what I can do about it if you disobey me.
Christie bit her lip. For better or for worse, her sexual satisfaction was now tied to his and she knew it. If he didn’t want her to come, her body would side with him even if her mind was furious at them both.
He was probably just teasing her, as part of the cyber play. Maybe some more sugar would help matters.
“I’m sorry, sir. Please? May I come?”
I like when you beg me, Mistletoe. I grow even harder for you.
“Is that a yes?” She asked hopefully.
Nope. My order stands.
“I can’t believe this!” Blitzen had never seriously forbidden her to climax before.
Believe it. I own your next orgasm. It’s mine. From now on, you will save that delight for me to share, control, and enjoy.
She shivered. He couldn’t be serious. Who knew if they would ever even meet, or when?
“You’re ruthless, you know.”
Yes. And you’re sexy as hell and hard to resist. But I mean it, princess. The next time you climax it will be with your wet pussy tight around my hard cock, squeezing me with every thrust until I come deep inside you.
Christie instantly pictured them together on a large bed in full-on, carnal coitus. Her clit twitched in spasm, yearning to uncork the full orgasm bottled inside her pussy. She could feel her back arch in aroused response.
Damn, this guy was good. He had tuned her fantasies so well over the past two months that she could envision every sexy detail he described exactly as if he was in the room doing it to her.
Okay, okay! I surrender, already,” Christie half groaned, half laughed. She struggled to get her rioting body back under control.
It’s not my fault you have a hair-trigger libido, sweetheart.
She could almost hear his warm, male chuckle in her ear.
“You wouldn’t be able to get me so aroused so fast if your titillating star messages took days instead of seconds over sub-space frequencies,” she grumbled.
Wanna bet?

Thursday, November 2, 2017

Excerpt from Phantom Affair by Katherine Kingston

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!

Find it here:

Robert is the best lover Kelly’s ever had, even though he’s a ghost. If he could return, could reality live up to the fantasy?
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*

Copyright © Katherine Kingston, 2017


That particular spring Thursday she’d been gone for three days, working on a large collaborative project. By the time she got back at eight in the evening, she was beat. She’d had dinner before she left the city but she headed for the kitchen right after dumping the briefcase and stepping out of her pumps. That martini was calling her name.
“Kelly?” Robert materialized beside her while she got out the bottles and filled the shaker with ice. It no longer startled her. His form was never fully solid, which made it hard to get a perfect idea what he looked like. She could tell he had a lean, handsome face with strong jaw and cheekbones and sensual lips, but it was especially hard to see his eye and hair color. Both seemed to be light. Otherwise, he’d been a tall man in life, but thin. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, which made sense since he thought he’d been about twenty-five when he died. He didn’t like to talk about it, but he had one time admitted that he’d been hanged in 1706. He wouldn’t discuss the reason. Nothing she’d learned of him in the three years since she’d bought the house—and his company along with it—suggested he was a bad or violent man, so his fate mystified her.
He must have some way to change his clothes—or maybe just his appearance, since his dress didn’t reflect a man who’d lived in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. He usually appeared to be wearing a polo shirt and slacks.
“Rough trip?” he asked, staring at her as she measured out the vermouth. “Took longer than usual and you look beat.”
“Busy. Lots of negotiations, a zillion details to hammer out. And I had to wear heels for three solid days.”
“Poor baby.” An intriguing hint of British accent underlay the slang he’d picked up from the TV. “Go put your feet up and I’ll rub them while you tell me about it.”
That was an offer she never refused.
Kelly finished putting together the double martini and took it to the living room. She settled into the reclining end of the leather sofa with a sigh of relief, letting the quiet, homey atmosphere she’d created sink into her tired bones. A puff of warm air surrounded each of her feet after she raised the footrest. The air began to move around, pressing against her flesh.
She had no idea how he did that. Another of the drawbacks of a ghostly lover was his inability to touch her, but Robert had figured out how to use puffs of compressed air to substitute for it. He admitted it had taken him years of practice to learn and master the technique. Kelly refused to ask how many women had gotten similar attentions from him. He’d said there were a couple, though he claimed he first developed the method to use for turning the pages of books.
“Tell me what’s happened the last few days,” Robert said, his half-visible form kneeling beside the chair. It appeared his hands were around her feet, though he couldn’t truly touch her. Still, the air shifted around her toes, stroking them gently but firmly.

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Excerpt from The Magic That You Do by Tina Donahue

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!

Find it here:

Passion. Friendship. Love. Some things a man simply can’t forget… 

Finn has no idea what he’s doing at a haunted house on Halloween, but his tour guide Caty certainly rocks his world. Irresistibly drawn to her, he indulges in wicked delight and a return to their shared destiny.
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*

Copyright © Tina Donahue, 2017


Blustery wind swept across Lake Huron. The wintry blast tousled his hair, rattled bare tree limbs, and delivered an unbearable chill from the water. He clutched his coat closer to his throat and lifted his face. Ominous clouds pressed in. Coming rain scented the air.
Honeyed light poured from the house, the glow warm and inviting.
Strange that a haunted house should seem safer and more enticing than the street. Whoever had planned this tour was clueless as to what the public wanted or children demanded. A new group of kids ignored the place, not even bothering to check out the two bicycles abandoned on the expansive front lawn. The bikes, along with rollerblades and skateboards, were the only transportation allowed on the island.
He stilled, not certain how he’d known that. Probably had been on the sign. Nope. On a brochure? He patted his pockets. No literature there. Mystified, he stepped closer to the place.
A young woman stood on the widow’s walk. Her waist-length blonde hair and long white dress whipped in the stiff breeze. She leaned against the railing and offered a welcoming smile.
Intense heat coursed through him. His knees wobbled.
Something creaked.
The front door had blown in…unless it had opened on its own.
Dismissing such a crazy notion, he lifted his hand in greeting to the woman.
Gone. Where?
Shadowed figures passed the upstairs windows, gauzy curtains making them indistinct. The promised ghosts? He wanted to laugh but didn’t. One form stood a head taller than the other. Had to be a man with the young woman he’d seen. The guy most likely her lover or husband.
Inexplicable sorrow gripped Finn followed by acute loss for someone he’d yet to meet. Definitely time to go. This was nuts.
He pivoted.
The scent of violets surrounded him even though no flowers bloomed on the bushes. Drawn by the fragrance, he hurried up the walk toward the house.
A child darted into his path.
He reared back to avoid colliding with the little girl.
Unmindful of his presence, she waved and shouted to her companions. “Hold up! You’re going too fast!”
Laughing, they bolted away and taunted. “Slow poke. Slow poke. Slow poke.”
She ran toward them, tripped on her witch costume, and tumbled to the grass.
“Whoa.” Finn crossed the lawn and touched her arm to help. “You okay?”
“No!” Crying, she shoved spilled candy into her sack and raced to her friends.
They laughed at her witch nose, bent from her fall. She giggled with them and set the thing right.
A gust scented with violets slammed into Finn and pushed him to the house.
Heart pounding, he crossed the porch and stopped in the foyer painted a cheery yellow with white moldings. Furniture from way back when decorated the expansive space.
Footfalls sounded overhead. One heavy. One lighter. The man and woman from the windows. He tilted his face to the ceiling. The couple crossed from room to room, working their way back to the master suite.
His skin prickled. He hadn’t a clue how he’d known that. Wait. The widow’s walk was on that side. Made sense the largest bedroom would be, too. He’d painted enough client portraits in front of and inside Victorian structures to know the architecture.
Relieved, he lowered his face and started.
The young blonde woman from earlier looked at him worriedly, her slender eyebrows lifted. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” She rested her hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”
More like delighted to have her next to him instead of upstairs with the man…and the other woman. “Yeah.”
“I’m so glad.” Genuine happiness lit her lovely smile.
Her concern comforted and aroused Finn as nothing had in too many years. Warmth rolled through him, settling in his groin, thickening his cock.
Dark lashes fringed her sapphire-blue eyes. Pink flushed beneath her milky skin. Heat radiated from her despite the cold night and what little she wore. Her white crocheted dress was a throwback to hippy finery popular in the sixties, the intricate design bearing flowers and tassels. Silver rings graced each finger, one boasting dark blue stones. None resembled an engagement or wedding band, thank God. The contraptions on her feet weren’t exactly shoes. There were no soles, merely braided leather cords wrapped around her slender toes that she’d then tied to her ankles. Dangling feathers and blossoms hammered from silver adorned the leather to make Bohemian wedding sandals.
His arms goose pimpled. He didn’t want to guess how he’d known the name for her footwear. Never had he been into women’s fashions, especially those from long ago. It was 2016 for Chrissakes, his thirtieth birthday barely past.
She couldn’t have been older than mid-twenties.
“Hi.” He offered his hand. “Finn Gallagher.”
Bliss crossed her lovely features. “Caitlyn.” She slid her fingers over his and squeezed gently.
His hair stood on end, indescribable pleasure filling him. Liking it, he grinned.
Loud laughter rang out overhead. “Did I interrupt your tour?”
“Not at all, Mr. Gallagher. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

Excerpt from Cupid's Curious Case by Marianne Stephens

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!

Find it here:

Alan’s last job as Cupid 84 involves neighbor Amy and a special box of candy. Both secretly desire the other. Can they find true love?
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*

Copyright © Marianne Stephens, 2017


Amy picked a pink candy with a red heart on it. Alan chose a blue piece that had white sprinkles on it. They popped their chosen pieces into their mouths at the same time.
A tingle went through Amy as she savored the rich treat. It spread through her body, and sent a shocking flame of desire to every inch of her body. There was a catch in her breath, and she itched to satisfy a lustful need she’d never felt with Scott.
She peeked at Alan, and noticed his eyes were closed as he devoured his candy. His breathing quickened, and dropping her gaze lower, she spied a distinct bulge pressing against his jeans’ zipper.
Alan opened his eyes and stared into hers. A heightened sense of craving, want, desire seemed to spark between them. Amy was at a loss for words, at least common sense ones. She wanted him. Here. Now. With a wanton passion.
“Try another piece,” she whispered, almost afraid to say anything.
“I—Sure. These are overwhelming. All my senses are aware of the decadent taste it leaves in my mouth. You too?”
“Yes,” she managed to answer before biting into a green piece of candy with a soft, minty inside that slid down her throat, leaving more tingling sensations wreaking havoc with her body.
Alan raked a hand through his hair. “Is it me, or is it hot in here?”
A stinging rush of heat course through her, settling in her cheeks. “It must be the champagne.” She fanned her face with her hand. “It does feel warmer than before.”
“Why don’t we open your window a little? Cool us off.”
Both stood, and walked to the window. Amy cranked it open and a rush of cooler air flowed inside. For a moment she shivered, and then felt warmer as Alan, wrapped his arms around her.
“You’re cold. Maybe this wasn’t a great idea.”
Amy clasped his arms, hugging them tighter. “No. I mean, we can close the window, but I’m enjoying standing here with you.”
Alan pulled her back towards him. Amy couldn’t stop her hormones from racing into overdrive at the sensation of rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. “Turn around, Amy. I want to see you while I hold you in my arms. Please.”
She quickly turned to face him, never losing contact. Heat radiated between them, satisfying her passionate lust now controlling her every thought. “I want to be held by you—touch you.” She rested her head on his chest. “We’ve missed out on being with each other all this time. I feel a need now. And no, it’s not the champagne talking. It’s me. I’ve always hoped for more between us.”
Alan lifted her head, lowered his mouth to hers, and began with a slow, gentle kiss. He pulled his head away and said, “We’re together now. I want this. I want you. No, like the note said, I desire you.”
His next kiss was more urgent as he rubbed his hands down her back and lifted her rear end closer. “Tell me now if you want me to stop and I’ll leave. I’ll go, but I don’t want to.”
“No. Please stay. I want you,” she moaned, consumed in a need to have Alan make love to her.
The next series of kisses were more frantic, with tongues slipping between teeth to thrust into each other’s mouth. Amy ran her hands down his chest and pressed against the zipper of his jeans. She noted the catch in his breathing as she undid his belt and lowered his zipper.
Then, she slipped her hand inside and touch the torrid flesh of his penis. Alan had circled her breasts with his hands. With every brush across each nipple, Amy’s breathing raced. Her nipples ached to have him hold, squeeze, lave them.
She stepped back, holding her lust in check, for a moment of sanity. “We’ll be more comfortable in my bedroom. I’ll undress you and then you can undress me.”
His smile only encouraged her to take control. “A definite invitation I won’t refuse.”
She took his hand and started walking to her bedroom.
Alan pulled her on a slight detour to grab the candy box, champagne bottle, and glasses. “I have plans for this.” He winked.

Monday, October 30, 2017

Excerpt from Where or When by Francesca Hawley

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!

Find it here:

Bardic witch and famous singer Frank Jasper has been Sharon Beryl’s dream lover for years. When she wins a date with him, she is thrilled. Can their mutual desire become reality, or will it remain forever a dream?
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*

Copyright © Francesca Hawley, 2017


“Ladies and Gentlemen, thanks to your generous donations we met our goal tonight. We’ll be able to fund two Honor Flights very soon.”
Everyone cheered. After all, this was the real purpose of the party.
“And now, that moment you’ve all been waiting for. Frank, please draw the name of our lucky winner.”
He reached in the bowl and stirred the tickets thoroughly before finally drawing one. “And my companion for the evening is…” he paused dramatically and looked out into the crowd with a grin. Then he looked down at the ticket and read, “Sharon Beryl. Are you here sweetheart?”
Shar froze while Jess squealed, jumping up and down. Everyone, including Frank thought Jess was the winner.
“Well, come on up.” He waved to her. Jess shook her head and grabbed Shar’s arm, dragging her toward the well-guarded staircase on the far right side of the stage. The guards tried to stop her, but Jess yelled.
“This is Sharon, you twit. Not me.” Jess turned and hugged her. “You won. You won!”
“But, how?” Sharon could barely talk; she was so shocked.
“I bought a lot of tickets and put your name on them. Now go on and have fun.” Then Jess leaned close to whisper, “And tell me if he kisses as good as he looks.”
The guards escorted her up onto the stage and Frank crossed to her.
“Sharon?” he asked softly. She nodded. He took her hand and drew her forward to a padded stool that now sat center stage. She awkwardly climbed up on it and settled her skirt, so she was modestly covered.
“This one’s for you, sweetheart.”
The band began to play and he looked into her eyes to sing, Where or When. One of her favorite classic ballads. She stared into his dark eyes and he smiled at her. Leaning close, he cupped her cheek in his hand as he sang to the howls and catcalls of the audience. She barely noticed them as she felt the warmth of his hand.
His touch zinged through her, strangely familiar. Just as she recognized his scent. He finished the song with a kiss on her cheek, but she got a weird feeling he’d wanted to kiss her lips. She had to be making it up. Wishful thinking again. Still, she got to see the rest of the concert from the best seat in the house.
He sang more standards that she loved, and he surprised her by making her part of the show. He continued to serenade her at times, and every time he winked at her she grinned like a silly love-struck girl. Before long, her cheeks hurt from all the smiling. She looked out into the crowd and found Jess, who waved. She laughed, then turned back to watch Frank.
During a band interlude, he pulled her off the stool and danced with her. When he started to sing again, she would have returned to the stool but he held her close. Normally, she was a total klutz, but in Frank’s arms she moved with grace. Maybe he knew how to lead, or maybe she was just floating on air. Whatever the reason, they moved like they’d been born to dance together. This couldn’t be happening to her. Yet it was. If only for one night, Frank Jasper was hers.