Saturday, 7 October 2017

Consequences Audio Tour by M. Jane Colette


Welcome to Stop 11 of the Consequences AudioBook BlogTour
BABY OIL from
CONSEQUENCES (of defensive adultery) 
an EROTIC tragedy with a HAPPY ending
by M. Jane Colette performed by Elisa Kae  
18+ ADVISORY: Consequences is intended for an adult (18+) audience. It deals with mature subject matter, and contains explicit language and sexual content. Listener and reader discretion is advised. The tour is bringing romance readers and listeners the opportunity to listen to all 48 full, unabridged chapters of Consequences well in advance of the audiobook's Christmas release. Plus, there are fabulous prizes at every stop, and 48 chances throughout the tour to enter to win a COMPLETE set of M. Jane Colette's paperbacks! 

Wednesday, 4 October 2017

Self-Inflicted

Last night was my RWA Chapter's PRO/PAN dinner/meeting and we discussed our biggest mistakes.

To quote Frank Sinatra:
Regrets, I've had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption
I'm not going to list off the mistakes I've made in 20+ years of writing (faints at that number) because they all came down to one thing:

Self-doubt.


And as one of the authors pointed out last night, all of our errors came from not believing in ourselves.

A lot of my anxieties in life stem from self-doubt but it's extremely toxic when it comes to my writing. I've never pitched to an agent at a conference. Why? Self-doubt. I stop with sequels and series. Why? Self-doubt.

And it's bull shit. Total bull shit.

Because I know I can write. I know I can write a kick ass story. When it's good it's good and when it's not...

SELF-fucking-DOUBT!

I need to get back to listening to Brené Brown (she's amazing...just amazing)

If I have to start Stuart Smalley-ing then gosh darn it...that's what I'm going to do.

Tuesday, 3 October 2017

Bon Appetit

This isn't a 3WW. How this one came to be, oh so many years ago, was some harmless blog flirting with a former blogger (long gone now). A challenge had been issued on his blog about chocolate pie and I responded with some good, clean fun. No...not clean. Not clean at all ;)

***

A sigh tickles my forehead as you rise up on your elbows. I’m still pinned to the table but I don’t mind. It’s you. The minute I’m able to focus I grin. How can I not? Black cherry streaks one cheek and a bit of chocolate decorates the corner of your lip. I have just enough energy to lift up to lick away the remnants of your kiss. Sweet. Your devilish grin makes my insides tingle. Silly thought but oh so true.

There’s an imprint of my grip on the shoulder of your t-shirt.

I sit up, inadvertently putting my hand in the remainder of the pie. A little pang of loss ripples through me. Damn but I have a weakness for chocolate silk pie. A hint of mischief flows from me as I peek from my palm to you. There you stand, a sexy, slumberous look on your face from having just been in my body. Oh baby, that’s my favourite look of yours. It makes me tingle, makes me ache, makes me throb. With my clean hand, I reach for your shirt, pushing it up and away. Yum. Chocolate pie pales in comparison to you. All that flesh and it’s mine. MINE!

An eyebrow twitches up as you watch me. Without hesitating, I flatten my hand on your face and draw a chocolate mousse path down to your chest. Laughter explodes at the stunned look on your face. Not for long. You retaliate by leaning forward. Your breath caresses my lip and soon a cold, smooshy feeling spreads over my breast. I look down and the last of your black cherry sauce stains my skin. It doesn’t take long for us to revert to juvenile idiots, effectively “clearing the dishes”. The kitchen is a disaster. We’re disasters. But, oh baby, do you look good covered in chocolate goo. I could lick you clean.

My arm hooks around your neck and I pull myself close to you. Stained denim rubs my bare skin as I feast on your mouth. Sweet from chocolate, dark from the flavour of you. Fingers sticky from our food fight comb through my hair, fisting the strands. How quickly the mood changes. Hands settle on my hips as you feast on my mouth, deep, wet, delicious kisses that grow deeper, wetter. My own sticky fingers stroke down the line of your back, slipping beneath the gaping waist of your jeans. How easy it would be to push them down, get you naked. Now.

Fingers stroke over my ass and I shiver. One touch, baby, and I melt. A hand leaves for a brief moment, slapping against wood. You back me into the room then with a flick of your wrist, the door slams behind us. Fingers curl, digging into me and with ease I’m lifted a few inches. Cool porcelain touches my toes and I smile against your lips.

The table was cleared as were the dishes. Our turn, hm, baby? I lean back against the cool tiles. The juxtaposition between my hot skin and chilly wall makes me shiver. But not as much as watching you push your jeans down your legs. I enjoy the show. Self-conscious? Not you. The tip of my tongue touches my upper lip because, honey, you are so fine naked, even smeared with left over food. One finger crocks a few times, beckoning you to join me. Another one of your naughty smiles before you step into the shower, pulling the glass door shut behind you.

Soon you have the water cascading down and it rains over you. Have I ever told you that there’s nothing finer than you wet? Yum. Stepping towards you, I smooth my hands down your chest, over your belly. Eyes narrow the closer I get to your groin. I watch your lips as they silently form one word. Yeah, baby, we’re going to do just that.

A hand hooks behind my neck and you draw me under the fall of warm water. Your mouth covers mine as I tease you. Not for long. Patience isn’t quite high on your priorities at the minute. In my mind I had the seduction planned: a little soap, a little shampoo but that idea quickly shatters. All that matters now is being touched by you, filled by you.

The glass walls of the stall blur as you spin me then pin me to the wall. The games are over. Patience is history. All that matters is the need, the hunger, the passion. My leg slides up yours, hooking over your hip. I feel you positioned to enter me, penetrate me. Breath leaves me at the feel of you. God, you take my breath away, leave me weak in the knees.

The kiss ends and I gaze up into your face. The hunger for me reflected in your eyes makes my heart pound while moisture spills from me. Possession flares in your eyes, in the curve of your lips. Staring into my eyes, you drive into me. A gasp and then I have no breath left. It’s gone. Forgotten. A distant memory as you move in me. Each thrust, each slide heats me. I need to be closer to you. A hand curls under my thigh and my second leg hooks over your hip. Only you hold me up. Only you.

I fly over the edge quickly. Shattering. Melting. But you’re not quite finished, are you, baby? No. You’ve only just begun.

Friday, 29 September 2017

Heat

Another old 3WW from 2010.

hint, lust, sheen

She knew if there were a hint of suspicion, lives would be altered. There was something addicting in pursuing this. Was it the sex? Or the danger? All she knew was that stopping was impossible.

Every time she saw him she got weak in the knees as lust pulsed through her body with a tempo beat of Want him. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t hers to keep. He was her bad habit. Some people chewed their nails, and others put drugs in their veins. He was hers.

He had left the air conditioning off in the hotel room. He always did. As if the heat in the room added to the dream world illusion. He approached her, moving like a jungle cat was trapped within his body. As his body pressed against hers, she smelled the faint cologne on his skin. Deft fingers opened her blouse as he gazed at her, sexy hunger burning in his gaze.

Already her skin tingled in anticipation for his touch. Wrong so wrong, she told herself even as she leaned into his kiss, taking his flavour deep into her soul where she could remember it always. Her blouse fell to the floor and as he drew her to the bed, he stripped off her bra.

He made her so nervous and not just because this was illicit and so very wrong, but because he was unlike anyone in her life. Sinking onto the bed, he looked up at her then before she could say a word or touch him, he grabbed her hips. With a powerful tug, he pulled her forward and toppled her to the mattress.

Impatiently, he shoved her skirt up to her hips and with a savage little growl, buried himself deep in her. It was never slow or sweet. Sex with him was all heat. Like his inner jungle cat was mating with her.

There were no nylons today. It was too damn hot for them plus there was the knowledge she’d be seeing him. Always she dressed with him in mind when they met. Shirts he’d have to carefully remove and skirts that gave him easy access. A cry escaped from her as he moved within her, his body undulating as if muscles were where they shouldn’t be.

The summer heat and lack of air conditioning, coated his body with a sheen of sweat so he smelled not only of cologne but aroused heat.

Every thrust made her writhe, every time his gaze met hers she burned. Could a woman turn to steam and ashes when a man looked at her? Or was it just the right man, even when he was the wrong one?

It was lust. Just lust. It was sex. Just sex. She repeated the chant to herself as she clutched his ass, her nails gripping the tight flesh as she came beneath him. Too much, she thought as he gave that little smile of his before he climaxed with a throaty growl.

He was too much. This was too much.

“They’re waiting for us downstairs,” she said as she fought to return to normalcy. To where she wasn’t this wanton sex kitten panting for each glimpse of him. Each horrible, discreet glimpse of him.

“Let them wait,” the so-to-be-married hotel owner who just happened to be her employer said.

Wednesday, 27 September 2017

Chaos

Once upon a time I participated in a Blog Hop called 3 Word Wednesday. We were given three words and were told to write about it. Alas the blog hop has ended (sad). But low and behold I found a couple I had written back in 2010 and thought...hey...why not repost these.

Imminent, tamper, engulf

He stepped into the elevator. She shouldn’t be attracted to him. He was the antithesis of everything she found attractive in a man. He was rude, his idea of romance was grabbing a woman’s ass and his appearance was a one that said he didn’t care and you could fuck right off if you had a problem with him.

Poor little rich boy didn’t like Daddy’s money.

She hated that smirk on his face. The one that said he knew she didn’t like him. The one that said he knew deep in her unspoken fantasies they were both naked.

As he leaned there against the polished wall, scuffed up motorcycle boots crossed at the ankle, he blatantly looked at her. She fought the urge to tug on her blouse and smooth a hand on her skirt. He made her feel…messy. He didn’t just break rules, he took them and twisted them until they suited his needs. He was chaos and…mess.

From the corner of her eye, she watched his foot rise up and the toe of one black boot pressed against the button. The elevator came to a stop, the alarm gave voice to the lack of motion, because he had tampered with its momentum.

Chaos, she thought. Messy, messy chaos.

He moved, pushing up from his lazy, sexy sprawl and stood behind her. The heat of his body soaked through the silk of her blouse.

One hand with its broad fingers flattened on her stomach and her heart sounded loud in her head. She stared at the unmoving numbers. She felt his mouth on her neck, lips resting against where her pulse was erupting. Down his hand slid over the tight weave of her skirt, over her pussy that gave a little shudder of pleasure.

His other fingers lay on her neck, one finger at a time. Lightly, gently but it was enough to engulf her body with aching need. The pressure on her throat guided her head back to his shoulder while his mouth finally moved, sliding up her throat to take her mouth in a sizzling kiss of heat, tongue and need.

Want. Desire. The crashed through her like a discordant symphony while he drew up the fabric of her skirt, his fingers brushing up her thighs, along the stockings she wore. His lips curled to realize they were stockings and not panty house. A startled gasp came from her as his rising touch delved under the lace of her panties.

She sagged against him, her hips automatically seeking the touch that dipped into her. Fast and sure, he caressed, stroked until she was crying out in his mouth, riding the fingers pushing within her.

Her orgasm was imminent. Exploding through her as he drank down her shout and pushed his fingers hard into her pussy.

His hand slipped out and he kissed her once more before he reached over and set the elevator back into motion.

Her own hands were shaking as she smoothed down her skirt, conscious of the creamy dampness between her thighs. She fidgeted with the ring on her finger, twisting it.

The elevator stopped and he prowled past her, her body shivering as his brushed hers. He looked down at her left hand, met her gaze, and winked as the doors closed on his face.

Messy, messy chaos.


And to think she had said yes to a lifetime of it.

Tuesday, 4 July 2017

Viva July!

July's promising to be hot. Really, really hot.

Monday, 12 June 2017

Bound to Meri

Bound to Meri is no longer available for sale.

Because I have a plan. A real plan.

I'm going to rewrite it.

Not yet, but it's next in the queue.

There's a plan, you see. I'd mention it but me and plans...we don't really get along so I'm going to keep it to myself for now. Until the plan starts coming together.

I guess I should stop saying I have a plan and actually work on the plan. Then it's no longer a plan but reality.

Oooh. Plans.