The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30, Vol. 3 is LIVE

Dirty30V3CoverThe Sexy Librarian, Rose Caraway, has a brand new catalog of erotic adventures for you to choose from! Including my sexy heist story “In the Rough.”

Come inside, experience the breadth, inspiration, and excitement of superb erotic storytelling. Browse the card catalog. Find the perfect story to suit your mood, with subjects tantalizingly indexxxed to whet your appetite!

Lose yourself in these thirty risqué adventures, loaded with fabulous characters in provocative situations. Get ravished by flirty-frills and sassy petticoats in our hot bodice-ripper romance. Keep it strictly confidential as you fall in love with a dangerous undercover spy. Feel your heart quiver as you lust after two brothers on the lone frontier. The choice is yours in this library of sexy-sharp stories!

Aphoristic and lively, these tales are perfect for a mid-day quickie or an evening kiss before bed. Do you have twenty minutes for a brazenly sexy jewelry heist? Or maybe take that once in a lifetime cruise vacation and discover that mermaids really do exist! You can savor the heat rising in your cheeks as you confess your deepest desires to the town priest, then finish-off your evening with a run in Central Park and stumble upon a house made of…gingerbread?

FEATURING: Ria Restrepo, Janine Ashbless, T.D. Rudolph, Kenzie Mathews, T.C. Mill, Alex Slaine, Lynn Lake, Kendel Davi, Terrance Aldon Shaw, Rachel Woe, Eddie Monotone, Romey Petite, Chase Morgan, Clare London, Silas Bliss, Dr. J., Sommer Marsden, Eliza David, Alegra Verde, Kiki DeLovely, Emma Chaton, M.P. Clifton, Emily L. Byrne, Saskia Walker, Jaap Boekestein. Maxim Jakubowski, Alexa B. Forde, t s cummings, Jaycee Amore, and Janie James.

Available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

 


Read an excerpt from my erotic story “In the Rough.”

The intruder spun around, his face hidden behind a black ski mask. Vashti backtracked through the doorway. The man moved toward her, pausing to switch off the lights. Her blood pounded in her ears. She ran for the phone, but he caught up to her, pinning her arms to her sides.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he growled, anchoring her to the desk with his weight. Pens, loupes, and diamond scopes dug into her abdomen. Then she spotted Gorski’s coffee mug.

Flailing her legs, she managed to loosen one arm as he moved to evade her feet. Seizing the mug, she pivoted and pitched it at his temple.

“Fuck!” He ripped the mug from her grasp.

Shifting onto her back, Vashti tore the mask from the man’s head and slapped him hard across the face—

His familiar face.

The well-dressed patron from earlier that evening scowled. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He withdrew a handful of cable ties from his pocket and hauled her over to Gorski’s chair. In a matter of seconds, he’d secured her wrists and ankles, though she’d manage to knock him back twice in the process.

The man raked a gloved hand through his hair. “What the hell are you still doing here?”

“Inventory.”

“At eleven-thirty?”

“My boss is kind of a dick.” Under different circumstances, Vashti might’ve found this scenario arousing. Now, it was all she could do to keep from dry heaving. “Are you going to hurt me?”

The man avoided eye contact like a window shopper who’d only stopped in to try on something extravagant.

“You’ve seen my face,” he said. “That makes you a liability.”

Fear sank like a stone in Vashti’s stomach. “You’re going to kill me?”

“I don’t know.” He paced around like a caged animal. Vashti had a hunch the man was in over his head.

“Well,” she said, “how would you do it? Stabbing would be messy. Maybe strangulation? A gunshot to the head?”

“Do you see a gun anywhere?”

“No.” She swallowed hard. “And I don’t see a killer either.”

He stopped pacing and came to stand between her knees.

“Want to bet your life on that?” He studied her mouth. “I should’ve gagged you.”

“Why? It’s not like I’m screaming. You want to clean the place out? Fine by me. I couldn’t care less about Gorski’s bottom line. You want assurance that I’m not going to rat you out? Untie me and I’ll help you ransack the place. We can split everything fifty-fifty.”

He cocked the eyebrow that wasn’t glowing from where she’d struck him. “You’re kidding.”

“Look, the security cameras run on an analog system. Once we’re finished, I’ll give you the tape. Consider it leverage. Turning you in would mean incriminating myself.”

Time held its breath. He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a large folding knife. Vashti’s throat closed like a fist.

“Eighty-twenty,” he said.

She squinted. “Seventy-thirty.”

He slid the knife beneath her wrist and severed the tie.

Read this story and many others in the Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30, Vol. 3, available now on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.

A (Bitter)sweet and Sexy Treat

Pumpkin Bucket Filled With Various Wrapped CandiesAll Hallows’ Eve is nearly upon us.

Over the past month, I’ve been gorging myself on horror movies (the good and the dreadful) in between the day job, WIP revisions, and writing sprints.

I have so much stuff to share with you, including a brand new erotic story over at Bellesa.co, plus some social media developments and new ways to keep in touch.

Let’s dig in!

First off, I now have a mailing list. If you’d like to be the first to know when I put out a new story or when my next anthology is up for preorder, go ahead and click the subscribe link below. This mailing list isn’t a newsletter so much as a method for sharing news (if that makes sense).

Basically, I’ll only email you when something important is afoot. No spam ever. Promise.

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I also created a Pinterest account where I pin pretty and interesting things like old Victorian homes and sexy people who inspire me. This week it’s half-naked dudes with (and without) beverages.

 

Yummy.

#SistersinSmutScary human silhouette behind a diffuse surface

I have a new post up over at the Sisters in Smut blog called “Busting the Writer’s Ghost.” In keeping with the holiday, I introduce you to my own personal ghosts and explore some common writerly fears and offer advice on how to quell them. If I’m particularly skilled at anything (besides writing smut) it’s being stubborn enough to keep at the dream in the midst of a destructive thought storm.

You can check out that post here.

No tricks, just treats: my new short story from Bellesa.co

spiritualistic seance by candlelight close-up“Haunted Hearts: A Ghost Story” is a bittersweet, sexy—and dare I say haunting—tale about an eccentric widow, Rose Abbot, who taps into the mysterious power of her own grief to reconnect with her late husband.

Written with Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic and Sarah Addison Allen’s Garden Spells in mind, “Haunted Hearts: A Ghost Story” is brimming with love and bursting with magic.

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Read an excerpt below.

Rose drew the box of Ethan’s ashes into her lap. It was a simple dark wood box with a bronze latch. Not heavy, but substantial enough that she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. Unable to reconcile how a man who had been larger than life could be made to fit inside such a small vessel, she began looking for a place to set the box down. First, she tried the mantel, but that didn’t feel right. Then Ethan’s trophy case, but that wouldn’t do either.

Cradling the box, Rose wandered the house, making streaks in the dust on the furniture with her fingers. She skimmed her hands over Ethan’s clothes and their shared bookshelves, until a spark like a carpet shock zapped her as she touched one particular volume.

Her grandmother’s grimoire. A heavy tome bursting at its covers with spells and recipes for all manner of ills. She pulled it from the shelf.

Setting the box on the big oak desk, Rose leafed through the well-worn pages until she found what she had unknowingly been looking for: a spell to summon a spirit to you. The instructions, scrawled in her grandmother’s looping hand, said to bundle five sprigs of thyme, twelve strands of the deceased’s hair and one other personal item into a small pouch to be worn around the neck of the caster from noon until the sun went down.

Rose glanced at the clock. It was already half-past eleven.

Acting quickly, she fetched her husband’s hairbrush from the bathroom cabinet. As for the “other item,” she reckoned it couldn’t get more personal than one’s own ashes. For the pouch, she scrabbled together a small drawstring pocket tied with a leather cord. Then, she hurried downstairs to the attached greenhouse, praying the cold outside hadn’t weaseled in and strangled the herbs.

In the kitchen, she got to work threading thyme sprigs with Ethan’s honey-blond hair. Careful not to tear the stitches, she eased the bundle into the drawstring pocket. The ashes dusted her fingers as she gathered up a handful. Careful not to spill, she sprinkled the sandy cremains into the pouch.

With the charm around her neck, Rose parked herself in Ethan’s favorite reading chair and waited.

She waited all afternoon.

As the last of the sun’s rays disappeared behind the garden fence, so too did Rose’s optimism. What had she expected? A phone call from the great beyond? She wasn’t enough of a sucker to believe in Heaven, though she’d been fool enough to think that her strangeness could actually be useful for once.

Ethan wasn’t coming back. That should’ve been obvious.

Tearing the pouch from her neck, Rose marched through the living room and threw open the French doors. Cold air pricked the parts of her not shielded by her nightgown. With a howling snarl, she hurled the pouch out into the snow.

Rose slammed the doors and then slid to the floor, curling in upon herself like a dying spider.

Having sobbed herself to sleep, she didn’t notice the breeze on her skin or the strong arms that carried her up to bed like a child. It wasn’t until she woke squinting into the darkness of her bedroom, confused and disoriented, that she sensed the heat against her back and an arm around her midriff.

“Ethan?”

Lips brushed the nape of her neck. Fear seized like burnt chocolate in her stomach as hope ballooned in her chest. Sliding her hand under the covers, Rose traced the length of the arm across her belly until she found fingers.

“Say something,” she whispered.

The hand on her stomach slid to her breast. She shivered. If this wasn’t Ethan, then it could only be a stranger. Had she forgotten to lock the doors after she’d thrown the pouch into the snow? She couldn’t remember.

Bracing for the fight of her life, Rose balled her fists and turned to confront her silent bedmate.

Moonlight spilled onto the other half of the bed. It was empty.

The spell had worked.

“Wait.” She pawed at the sheets but found no trace of Ethan. “Come back. Come back, I’m here!”

Had she dreamt the feel of his hands and lips, or worse, lost her chance to reunite with her husband?

No. He had to still be around. She just needed a way to make contact.

Rose ran to the kitchen for a shot glass and a marker. Back in the bedroom, she folded up the threadbare rug to reveal a strip of hardwood on which she scrawled an arching alphabet, plus the words YES and NO. She laid the upturned shot glass on the floor and placed her finger on top.

“Ethan, are you still here?”

Nothing happened, not for a good long while, though the air around her felt charged and leaden. As if pushed by an invisible hand, the shot glass slid across the floor to YES.

Rose stared in amazement as the glass spelled out, HELLO ROSIE.

Click the image below to read the rest on Bellesa.co.Male and female hands silhouette, almost touch each-other

Happy Book Birthday to The Big Book of Submission, Volume 2

The Big Book of Submission, Volume 2 is available now in ebook, with print and audiobook editions to follow. If handsome professors, sex toys, and stubborn submissives are your thing, you’ll want to check out my very sexy erotic short “Continuing Education,” inspired by countless fantasies dreamed up in regrettably less titillating lecture halls of yore.

Really, it’s a wonder I made it through college.

“Panic set in…

Izumi could feel her clit pulsing in anticipation of the orgasm that now dangled out of reach. Perhaps if she were able to rock her hips, but not with all these people here, their knees and shoulders and stale coffee breath pressing in on her.

Miles flashed Izumi a knowing grin. “I hope you were taking notes.”

Read this story and many more in The Big Book of Submission, Vol 2 from Cleis Press!

Whether you’re simply curious about submission or regularly revel in the delights of BDSM, these 69 erotic short stories about submissives will turn you on.

From participating in a musical recital that takes a very kinky turn to making a grocery run while using sex toys to indulging in a risqué office encounter during working hours, these subs delight in obeying (or deliberately disobeying) their masters and mistresses in public and in private. They’re rewarded and punished the most wicked of ways that will leave you breathless. Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, with stories by Selena Kitt, Jade A. Waters, Dorothy Freed, and Sommer Marsden, among other talented writers, The Big Book of Submission, Volume 2 offers arousing tales that delve deep into the thrills of spanking, bondage, power dynamics, service, exhibitionism, erotic adventure, and much more.

Available in ebook from these retailers:

Amazon Kindle U.S. | Nook | Google Play | iBooks | Kobo | Amazon Canada Kindle | Amazon UK Kindle

Pre-order the print edition, coming January 9th:

Amazon U.S. | Barnes and Noble | IndieBound | Amazon Canada | Amazon UK
♥ Audiobook edition coming soon ♥