The House Of Fox- A Paranormal Erotic Comedy by SJ Smith

Dare you enter The House of Fox? Pre-Order Now!

Blurb:

The House of Fox is a paranormal comedy that contains scenes of a sexually explicit nature.

After a drunken night on the town, four friends awake to find themselves in the House of Fox, the ultimate brothel in the universe, where every sordid fantasy becomes reality. But all is not as it seems. The House of Fox harbors many dark secrets, and factions are plotting against one another.

The four newcomers must choose their friends carefully, and take care not to lose their minds on the thrill ride of perversion that will carry them to the ends of the Earth and beyond.

The Great Voyeur in the Sky is watching . . .

The House of Fox by SJ Smith is now available to pre-order through Amazon and will be available for sale through all major outlets on the 30th of June.

Buy links for The House of Fox:

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Ye7UVl

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1RWWqha

Excerpt:

“God, look at the pair of them. They’re so fucking boring.”

Kitty was watching the live feed from the video camera; grainy, blue tinged footage on a fat backed TV.

“Like, any sane woman would’ve been bouncing on Dylan’s cock the minute she stepped through the door. But oh no, not little miss goody two shoes Donna; she’d never lower herself into doing anything quite so lowbrow.”

Jane, who was standing behind, massaging Kitty’s shoulders, nodded in full agreement.

“You know what? I’ll take great pleasure in throwing her to the flames. It’s no more than the dismal bitch deserves.” Kitty grabbed the clipboard and updated the dossier, scrawling nothing happening in the relevant box. “And here’s me damn fool enough to think pulling watch duty on that pair might prove fun.”

“Things may hot up… eventually,” Jane offered.

“Are you kidding? That bitch is so frigid she could raise penguins in her asshole.” Kitty swiveled around in her office chair and trapped Jane’s legs between her knees. “Fuck ‘em. Let’s get back to the game. Now remind me, honey pie, what was the score again?”

“Four all.” Jane shook her head, gutted at having squandered a four-nil lead.

“Then it’s time for the big decider.” Kitty’s beaming smile lit up Jane’s world. “What do you think? The loser has to do the next five hours’ watch?”

“Let’s do it.” Jane strutted up to the mound, confident she could pull this off.

Kitty sat back in her chair and spread her legs wide, hanging her knees over either armrest. She licked her fingertip, parted her pussy lips and pushed three ping-pong balls up her cunt.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” Jane nodded. She steeled herself in preparation, and tightened her grip on the spank paddle.

Kitty pulled a face and thrust her hips, and a ping-pong ball flew clean out of her quim at high velocity and came arcing across the office. Jane swung the paddle, but missed by six inches. The ball sailed by and bounced off the coffee machine.

“Strike one,” Kitty yelled.

“Goddamnit.” Jane rolled out her shoulders to loosen them, and adopted the stance once again. “Ready.”

A second ping-pong ball flew from between Kitty’s love lips, this time on a much lower trajectory. Jane swung and caught the ball a glancing blow off the rim of the paddle, sending it straight downwards, where it ricocheted off the floor and bounced several times before dribbling to a pathetic stop between her feet.

“Strike two,” Kitty yelled. “The game now rests on this one final delivery. Will she step up to be a hero or will she fold under the pressure?”

“This time.” Jane was focused now. She took a few practice swings before crouching sideways on. “Ready.” She would not miss – she knew it.

The third ball, glistening with pussy juice, came spinning toward her, and she saw its flightpath almost in slow motion. She swung the paddle, catching the ball flush in the face, and sent it hurtling out through the open door into the corridor. “Home run,” she squealed, and danced a celebratory jig. “I win, I win.”

“Pah, you got lucky,” Kitty sneered.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. I won thanks to my natural ability at the game.”

The game – which they had been playing for the best part of two days – was called either Pussy Ping-Pong or Beaver Baseball; they still hadn’t made a final decision as to which they liked better. It had superseded ‘What’s the most unusual thing you can shove up your ass?’ which Kitty had won by successfully ramming a signed, first edition of Oliver Twist into her brown eye.

Author Bio:

SJ Smith is a neurotic recluse who lives in North Wales. It has long been his dream to become a full time filth monger. If you’ve never had the pleasure of reading SJ Smith before, his hilarious crime novel, Peeper, will be free from the 26th to the 30th of June on Amazon. Buy links can be found at www.sinfulpress.co.uk/Peeper

Links:

Twitter: @sjsmithauthor

Blog: http://sjsmithrants.blogspot.co.uk

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SJ-Smith-426405650840664

Publisher links:

Website: www.sinfulpress.co.uk

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sinfulpressuk

Twitter: @SinfulPress

Also by SJ Smith

A Little Yule Magick by Skye Ritchey

Blurb:

Sygin and Boyd are adept mages, looking forward to their winter break. Being alone in the big manor for Yule is their most cherished tradition. But a series of mishaps may keep them from their celebratory festivities.

Excerpt:

Boyd Lagassi shifted his position and dragged Sygin Ball up to straddle his thighs. "I want your famous fried honeycakes." His mouth closed over her nipple and he flicked his tongue back and forth.

Sygin moaned low in her throat. "Famous only because it's one of the few things I can make and not screw up." She rocked forward, lifting her hips and pushing backwards onto his hard shaft.

Boyd closed his eyes, relishing her warm heat. "And it's tradition. Five years and counting." He flexed his thighs then relaxed and let Sygin control the pace.

She kicked up the speed, her hands planted firmly on his chest. He opened his eyes, loving to watch her. Her passion for him took his breath away, her expressive face showing every nuance, her gaze going darker, the green irises going from a soft leafy color to a deep pine shade.

Her hips rolled back and forth, her breaths coming in short little bursts. Not long now, for either of them. Boyd slid his hands down to cup her ass, urging her forward. Her fingers curled into her palms, the knuckles grazing his skin, rasping against his flesh. He welcomed the mild discomfort, needing the edge to hold off, wanting his release to follow hers.

Sygin's head dropped back and her internal muscles tightened around his cock. She gasped then groaned. Boyd thrust upward, bumping hard against her clit and she cried out, the orgasm washing over her, sending a shudder through her body. Boyd let go, sliding over the brink. His hands grasped Sygin's hips, fingers digging into the soft spot above her pelvic bone. He came, his head thrashing on the pillow. Sygin collapsed atop his chest, her forehead resting on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

She pressed a kiss to his collarbone. "Can we skip class today and just stay in bed?"

He chuckled. "Something tells me if we don't show up, we'll have the entire student population knocking on our door."

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Buy Link:

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00QZPJVK4?keywords=skye%20ritchey&qid=1446865714&ref_=sr_1_3&sr=8-3

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Author Bio:

Currently a writer and editor by trade, Skye Ritchey, also writing as ML Skye and Skylin O'Thomas, can usually be found on IM or browsing the web while the TV plays in the background. She credits her parents for developing her fascination with 'what if' scenarios.

Growing up, she watched a mish mash of science fiction, westerns, and military dramas and read about other worlds and distant times along with contemporary romance… thanks to her mom's reading group—a wild, wacky bunch with diverse tastes that never failed to entertain.

She started writing short stories in grade school, switched to poetry in high school, and got sidetracked by a myriad of jobs and starting a family. But the writing called again and now she gravitates toward the genres she grew up loving, combining them with sensual and erotic romance set in different times and places. Meeting her husband on a blind date—after swearing she'd never go on one—Skye decided to never again say never.

'What if' couldn't exist if she did.

She resides in Ohio with her husband and children.

Website:

www.skyewrites.com

Facebook:

www.facebook.com/SkyeRitchey

Twitter:

@mlsky

Blog:

http://skyeritchey.blogspot.com

Email:

skye@skyewrites.com

Redeemed by You; Vranthian Vampires Book 3 by K.A. M'Lady

Blurb

In Vranthia, The Wasting has claimed the lives of women, children, and warriors alike; many have fallen to this great plague. No one is safe from its darkness. Recklessness and subterfuge walk hand and hand amongst the Elders, as they seek a means to rule. With ferocity they intend to control the meek, with gluttony they will bleed the docile; destroying all who stand in their way.

But The Wasting can no longer be contained. What began as a dark elixir, stoked in the veins of hatred and revenge, from an enemy long thought dead, has spread beyond the great halls of the Vranthian Kingdom. And no one is certain when or where its darkness will end. Is the mystery and magic of the trion enough to save this great nation?

Kantella Balacjek is a lot of things, but a traitor to his people he is not. He needs to find the source of the darkness to prove his innocence, but the evidence against him grows almost daily. Lies told and enemies made have a way of shielding the truth from the light, even when the truth rages in the blood. Death and her harbinger await him. Will he succumb, or will The Wasting consume them all?

The Darengy grave-warriors have always walked in the shadows. But even they have their outcasts, the creatures that they fear. Onya knows what it is to be different, to be alone with the dying. The shadows and darkness hold their whispers and their pleas. Only she has the power to choose who crosses over. Enslaved by the resistance, she has learned the capacity for evil. Does her blood hold the power to seal the fate of many nations? Does she the courage to change that fate?

Mercenary, loner, wanderer – Traegar is one of the first among the Elders. He is a maker and destroyer of life. Time has jaded him. His people’s level of debauchery and power disgusts him. When the Great Wars ended he chose to walk away and hunt what he despises and loves the most; burying the pieces within him instead. Now his kindred are dying in droves. The Elders have grown unruly, and unstable in their bid for domination. In his dreams the whispers of the ancients fire his blood with the heat of the mating.

Will finding his trion redeem his faith in his people? Will their belief in each other be enough to set them all free? Strong are the Binds of Love, Faith and Magic.


Excerpt

They found her standing at the balcony entry, the golden light of Vranthia’s three moons silhouetting her figure in the shimmering folds of her long, sheer gown. Her room was lit by firelight and moonlight only, the effect stunning against her pale skin and impish figure. When she turned her blue eyes on them, each were lost to her sultry, knowing gaze.

Their twin growls of hunger reached her, and Onya couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

“You toy with danger unlike you’ve known, my sweet,” Traegar gruffly warned.

“I am braver than you think, mercenary.”

Kantella reached her first, his quick strides and firm strength encompassing her against his length. He folded her against his body, the warm heat of his lips brushing her neck as he whispered, “One of the bravest.”

“Only the bravest to be our mate,” Traegar agreed, tipping her head, stealing her sigh of pleasure with his insistent lips.

Surrounded and encompassed by them, Onya had never felt more safe and secure in her life. Desire burned through her limbs, need quivering in her belly. She clung to Traegar, the wet heat of his tongue delving, tasting, and consuming her. All the while, Kantella wove his own brand of magic against her flesh. His hands cupped her breasts, his erection rubbing against her; pressing her tightly against Traegar’s eager flesh.

They turned her in their arms so that she faced Kantella, making quick work of removing her gown. She stood between them, naked but for her low sandals, her skin glowing in the moonlight. Her long, pale hair flowed to her waist.

“So beautiful,” Kantella rasped, his lips swallowing her gasp.

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Buy Link:  

Mojocastle Press- http://www.mojocastle.com/romance-book-genres/redeemed-by-you.html#sthash.H3NqP5DV.dpuf

Ride the Roan Stud by Stevie Klark

[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Altenative Paranormal Sci-Fi Romance, M/M, shape-shifter, HEA]


Blurb

On a vision quest, Ghost Walker succumbs to the harsh desert of the Four Corners badlands. With death's talons striking, he is rescued by a mustang. Orphaned at a young age, Ghost was adopted by the mysterious Olaloxie. His life has been a lonely one. Now Ghost Walker faces being shunned ­­if he survives.

Horse shapeshifter Grant Thunderhead is drumming the desert floor with his hooves to bring the rains. He senses an intruder trigger the forcefield protecting his steam engine caverns. Investigating, Grant finds a beautiful unusual man near death. To care for Ghost, Grant takes him to his ranch. Conflicted because of his unexpected attraction, Grant faces the situation, discovering only Ghost can rescue his heart. However, Ghost overhears an argument between Grant and his sister, and leaves. Grant chases Ghost through a thunderstorm. When he learns his niece is trapped by flash flooding, Grant knows he must find Ghost first, if he is to save the child.

A Siren Erotic Romance


STORY EXCERPT

 As horse, Grant Thunderhead galloped over the magnificent harsh terrain of the Four Corners. His territory, as he thought of it, having lived on his small ranch spread for nine years now.

This land of majestic rock sculptures, or hoodoos, held ancient secrets. Grant sensed them beneath his flying hooves. Over the years, he’d gradually explored, looking for those secrets, and found an unbelievable, fantastical cache of steam-powered machines.

Grant raced faster, surging with joy, with strength. All while the distinctive smell of creosote bush, and the other sparse vegetation teased his flaring nostrils.

The Earth sang to him. His every drumming hoof beat honored her, the planet-being, Gaia. Or Sophia, as some called her.

To run without boundaries, to feel the hot desert air blast over his stallion hide, Grant savored his freedom. He was also on a mission for his Native American friends as a rainmaker.

Comanche blood ran through his veins, through his paternal grandmother. Feeling a kinship with the Four Corner tribes, Grant had focused on developing a good relationship with his immediate neighbors—whatever their tribal blood connections. Eventually, one circle of elders approached him to say they knew he was a direct descendent of the Skyhorse People, or those who could shapeshift to a horse.

With his secret out, and the elder’s promise of silence, Grant often used his ability to shift, and other supernatural powers he possessed, to help the elders when needed. Yesterday, he’d participated in a drum ceremony to bring much-needed rains.

Like the sacred drumming, the sound frequency of his hooves pounding on the sun-washed land, if done with the correct rhythm for a long enough time, would encourage clouds to form, then become swollen with rain.

Reaching a long flat stretch of ground, Grant mentally chanted along with the steady beat of his hooves, Let the thirsty land drink, Benevolent One. Once he’d galloped the full distance, Grant slowed his pace. The vibrational message had been sent to the Sky Father, or what he thought of as the sacred matrix.

To give his sweat-stained body a chance to cool down, Grant leaped onto a narrow arroyo, and loped slowly, following the dry riverbed toward an area he wanted to explore further.

With the Earth singing to him, and the great towers of stone ringing, creating a high spiritual field, Grant had ignored the undercurrent of malevolence he’d sensed of late. No more.

Something strange, even dark, twisted the land’s vibrations. In his stallion form, Grant was even more sensitive to supernatural forces.

Could this be a foreshadowing?

A wicked chill slid the length of his horse spine causing his tail to move back and forth in quick jerks. To confront this disturbance in the force now, or not?

To run in the face of the wind, or run from the evil source of the winds? For now.

Grant listened to the thunderous sound of his heart, as he did often to tune into the wisdom within for answers. When the answer eluded him, he silently asked questions.

Was this a sacred forewarning for him on a personal level, or perhaps for the tribal peoples he’d befriended, who were constantly under assault by the corrupt powers that be?

Or, was there some catastrophic world event about to not only alter his life, but drastically change the life of everyone?

Grant tossed his head, hardly breaking stride. No damn doubt, the dark age was upon them. Instead of the paradise world he’d envisioned since his youth, the evil side of the supernatural had gained a serpent’s stranglehold on society.

From his highly experienced viewpoint.

Fury welled up inside Grant. He’d spiritually disciplined himself and spent his lifetime working to bring about a better life for All who lived upon Gaia. Now enraged, he bucked several times, high twists in the air.

Once his hooves solidly struck the ground, Grant dug in, catapulting himself over the barren cracked riverbed. Baring his teeth, he charged toward an unseen enemy. A startled rattlesnake uncoiled, striking in his direction.

Grant nimbly swerved, then sent calming vibes to the out-of-sorts reptile. Moments later, awareness sparked inside him, and he skidded to a halt, psi-sensing the breach of his storage cave. Had someone discovered his steam-powered ships and devices?

Before his mind’s eye, Grant witnessed the effects of the cavern’s advanced-tech force field, but not who it was that had been thrown into the cactus-gnarly arms of the desert. In seconds, he intuitively knew the intrusion had not been by an enemy.

Still, he spun around on his back hooves, jumping into a fast gallop. Near the area, Grant soon halted at the edge, where the high desert began. Boulders littered the ground surrounding the titan hoodoo that shielded his cavern’s entrance.

Blowing his nostrils to gather in scents, Grant picked his way over the rough terrain, and wove between the larger rocks. The sound of his heart suddenly matched another’s, astonishing him. A rare occurrence, it meant this meeting had been orchestrated by the Higher Ups, as he thought of his divine guides.

Grant easily followed the heart connection, concerned because the beat was too slow, with an unhealthy flutter. As he approached, quickening his pace, the smell of death clung to the small-framed man who lay sprawled on his back near one of the huge rocks.



ADULT EXCERPT


The vision of the tented blanket refused to leave his mind’s eye. In a battle with his emotions, Grant filled the pitcher. He added colloidal silver for good measure since the natural substance would help Ghost Walker’s immune system.

Intent on controlling himself, and making his recuperating guest as comfortable as possible, he padded back to the spare room. Grant didn’t deny it. Something about Ghost Walker called to him, a pull that was almost painful, as if his middle had been lassoed, the loop tightening.

Grant shook his head, and felt his inner horse mane shake. Life liked throwing curve balls at him, ones that often aimed for his head, and dammit, right between the eyes at times. Although, he reminded himself, he couldn’t rightly complain overall.

Yeah, miracles showed up on his doorstep. He believed due to his consistent spiritual practice, his natural love for humankind—for all life on the Great Mother planet, Earth.

Pausing before he entered, Grant grabbed a large breath to relieve the tension inside his gut, and his bunched muscles. So much about his guest was miraculous, including the fact that he’d found the hidden, steam engine cave.

Hell, he’d lived long enough to know a higher plan was at work. As he walked toward Ghost Walker, Grant curved his mouth into a friendly smile.

Again, he couldn’t miss the pole-tall thrust of the man’s cock beneath the blanket. Concerned, Grant set the pitcher down, and scrutinized Ghost Walker’s face for signs of a problem, beyond the man’s attraction to him.

Coffee eyes, misted by drowsiness, met his gaze—soft wise eyes Grant decided he could sink into forever. Ghost Walker blinked slowly, and Grant witnessed his extreme fatigue.

For the life of him he couldn’t look away—leave Ghost Walker to his rest. Words formed on Grant’s lips but he couldn’t speak, caught in what suddenly felt like a time warp.

Yep, he’d experienced strange shifts in time when he’d participated in medicine ceremonies. The elders had told him the practice originated close to ten thousand years ago.

Ghost Walker started to speak, hesitated, then closed his mouth. Grant watched the flicker of emotions—desire, shame, hope, confusion—all while their gazes stayed glued on each other.

Not locked, Grant thought, but connected as if strands formed between them—invisible delicate threads that were stronger than steel.

Grant knew before he acted. Even so, his hand moved without volition. He uncovered Ghost Walker, wrapping his hand around the man’s arrow-like, brown cock.

Heat, a beautiful heat seeped inside his palm. The shape of Ghost Walker’s erection burned a brand in a part of Grant he hadn’t known existed.

All he knew, the sensation was like holding erotic art in his hand. Grant slowly, gently pumped his hand up and down.

The silky skin of Ghost’s shaft felt like the most wonderful caress, and he gripped a bit tighter. Rhythmically, Grant swiveled his hand along the length of Ghost’s dick, using the droplets from his slit as lubricant.

As silence embraced them both, Grant fastened his gaze on Ghost Walker’s eyes—wide, disbelieving at first. A surrender to pleasure quickly glittered the man’s dark eyes.

Grant couldn’t help but notice how he reveled being in command, how he enjoyed relieving Ghost Walker’s need. He watched Ghost’s eyes brighten with more and more ecstasy.

When his eyes closed, Grant paused, softly stroking his thumbpad over Ghost’s swollen cockhead—so damn satiny, and now wet with his leaking pre-cum.

His extreme pleasure obvious, Ghost’s hips jerked involuntarily. Grant rubbed his palm over his crown in a tender swirling motion, and Ghost opened his eyes as if he couldn’t quite believe the ecstatic sensations.

Feeling like a dominant stud, Grant watched as Ghost’s eyes glazed over, darkened, then glinted with the start of his orgasm. He gripped the man’s throbbing hot cock, and slid his hand up and down more rapidly than before.

With each stroke upward, Grant slightly squeezed the base of Ghost’s shaft.

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Buy Link- 

Siren Publishing- http://www.bookstrand.com/ride-the-roan-stud