Saturday, 30 January 2016

The Collared Collection: Coming Soon from Kd Grace & Kay Jaybee

Happy weekend everyone! It's Kay here. I'm delighted to be bringing you some very exciting news today.
Kd Grace and myself I have our very own boxed set coming out on 6th Feb!

The Collared Collection- which contains our bestselling novels The Voyeur and The Pet Shop- is already available for pre-order on Amazon.

Kd and I have been great friends for many years, and we are thrilled to have this chance to work together.


In The Pet Shop by K D Grace, in appreciation for a job well done, Stella James's boss sends her a pet, a human pet. The mischievous Tino comes straight from The Pet Shop complete with a collar, a leash, and an erection. Stella soon discovers the pleasure of keeping Pets, especially this one, it's extremely addicting. Obsessed with Tino and with the reclusive philanthropist, Vincent Evanston, who looks like Tino, but couldn't be more different, Stella is drawn into the secret world of The Pet Shop. As her animal lust awakens, Stella must walk the thin line that separates the business of pleasure from the more dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.

In the Voyeur by Kay Jaybee, wealthy businessman and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of 13 fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite BDSM club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff - his personal assistant, Anya Grant, and his housekeeper, Clara Hooper.

Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark's ultimate fantasy, Fantasy 13, can take place. But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does Bridge's gentleman's club, Anya's previous employer and a place she was delighted to escape from, have over Mark?

In order to find out, the girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they had left behind them all over again
If you love Kd Grace's work, but have never tried mine- or if you are an avid reader of my BDSM romances, but haven't tried Kd's brilliant wordage, then this is your chance to discover a new writer.
And why is it called The Collared Collection????
Well- the clue is in the title...
Have a fabulous weekend.
Kay xxx

Thursday, 28 January 2016

Fitting In by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

Hi everyone!

I recently took part in an online chat, and someone asked a question that really got me thinking:

"Is there a credibility issue with erotic writing?"

And the short answer is that in many cases, yes, there is. In spite of the boom in popularity for the genre that Fifty Shades of Grey created, for a lot of people it's still not considered a "proper" genre. It's something to be giggled about, only read behind firmly closed doors, etc. As a writer, that's frustrating, but I can live with it... it's just the way life is.

But it does mean we have to take a different approach to getting our names out there than authors in many other genres. For example, great ways for authors to promote themselves include: doing a talk/reading/signing in a local bookshop, get featured in a local newspaper, do some kind of event with your local library, get involved in local craft fairs... you get the idea. All great and valid things to highlight books to potential readers.

In the past I've attempted to arrange some of the above ideas. At first, the person you speak to seems interested, but as soon as you mention that word... erotica... you've lost them. It's just too risqué, they're scared of what people will think, how they will react. Fair enough - at least I tried. I'm very much a person that'll try things out, and if they don't work, that's okay. At least I know what works and what doesn't.

But it can be very hard, as a writer, to feel like you don't fit in. I've been to some conferences and things where, although everyone is very friendly and welcoming, they clearly find it difficult to talk to me about my work. Others, however, are fascinated, and I've come across many people that, when asked, write "romance", but if pushed further will admit they've also written erotica or erotic romance under a pen name. Others still wonder if I've done everything I write about, and assume that I spend my days writing and my nights prowling BDSM clubs. That's fine, though, that just makes me giggle as it's so far from the truth.

I know all the above sounded kind of negative, and for that I'm sorry. I wasn't being negative, more telling about my experiences. But now, on the flip side, I'd like to talk about where I do fit in.

Online, these issues seem to go away. If people aren't into the genre I write in, that's absolutely fine. I engage with those who are. I chat on Twitter and on Facebook, and rejoice every time I get a review or a message from someone telling me how much they enjoyed my book. I'm grateful I can still reach readers using the power of technology, and even more grateful that they exist. They may not be able to get new book recommendations through their local newspaper or library, but they can still find me, and others like me, and hopefully check out our books, recommend them to friends, and so on.

This is why I adore my fellow Brit Babes - now there's a group where I truly fit in. We're all a little bonkers (but that goes with the territory of writers), we all face the same struggles, and we all push each other to succeed. Having that support network is vital, and incredibly valuable for me. Those girls ensure I won't give up.

The same goes for our awesome street team. We couldn't wish for a friendlier, more dedicated bunch of people on our side. We talk books, of course, and our team read and review fiendishly for us, as well as help pimp out blog posts, buy links, and so on. But we also chat more generally, whether it's about books, films, hot guys (admittedly, that's a very popular topic), or just share funny gifs we've found online.

What I'm saying, ultimately, is that though in some cases, yes, people are still shying away from erotica/erotic romance, it's still got a readership. A big readership. You probably won't bump into them in your doctor's surgery (or if you do, they won't admit what they're reading on their Kindle as they wait), but they're there. And they're a bunch of the funniest, most warm-hearted people you could ever wish to meet. If you're reading this, you're probably one of them. For that, I thank you.

Happy Reading!
Lucy x

Latest release: Love on Location.

ALSO - I'd love to get your thoughts on this. How do you feel about erotica/erotic romance? Do you read it openly, discuss it with your friends and partner/s? Or is it something you keep to yourself? Let's discuss... :)


Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller) and Eyes Wide Open (an Amazon bestseller). Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 140 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at, or on Twitter and Facebook. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at:

Monday, 25 January 2016

Aliana Drake: How my Second Book Changed My Life

Hello everyone! It's Kay here, and I'm delighted to be able to bring you a fabulous guest post from one of the newest erotic romance writers' on the block today. So please welcome, Aliana Drake...
How my Second Book Changed My Life

I bet you had to reread the title a few times. The second book? Most people assume a first published book changes an author’s life.


There’s no doubt that holding my own first book in my hands was a feeling I’ll cherish forever. But in the months following the writing of my second book, I realized the awesome power of writing, of literature, and the amazing power it had to introduce a new path in my life.

In order to understand how it changed me, a story, of course, is needed. My husband and I took our four year old daughter on a vacation to Colorado to see family and to research the location for my four-book series set in the mountains of Colorado. We hiked, we ate local food, and we drove through Rocky Mountain National Park.

We spent one day in Colorado Springs where we hiked around beautiful red rock formations in a public park called The Garden of the Gods. As we scrambled up rocks and boulders, we realized that there was a pair of rock climbers half way up a large sandstone rock formation called the Kissing Camels. We perched ourselves on a rock and ate lunch while we watched in awe as they climbed the sometimes vertical rock face, working together with ropes, harnesses, and other gear we didn’t have the language for to get to the top. There was so much trust, a harmonious, sometimes unspoken language between them as they inched up hundreds of feet of bright red sandstone.

“I want to do that,” our four-year old said. My husband and I, of course, explained to her that they have a lot of gear, training, and knowledge we didn’t have. She was disappointed as you can imagine, and my husband and I good-naturedly laughed it off (if you’ve ever been a parent, you know that kids say they want to try something every 10 minutes). Given that we live in the flattest state in America, we never gave it a second thought.

That was until I started brainstorming ideas for my second book. Something in me couldn’t get the image of those two climbers out of my head. So much trust. So much communication. Ropes…harnesses…you get where I’m going. Wouldn’t it be fun to base a romantic relationship off the mutual love of rock climbing? From that, my characters Jenn and Declan were born.

But I had one problem…I knew nothing about the sport. So I ordered books, talked to local climbers, and started to piece together how one even goes about rock climbing.

One day, as I was sitting at my desk typing, my daughter came over and started flipping through the non-fiction books on rock climbing. I watched her as she flipped through the pictures, scanning each one like she was memorizing it. Finally she turned to a certain page with a full color photo. I will never forget the look on her face, her eyes wide in admiration as she pointed at the picture. Then she said something that rocked me: “Look, Mommy! A girl can do it, too!”

I pulled her into my arms, tears pricking my eyes. “Of course girls can do it, too,” I said. It was in that moment that I vowed as a family we’d go rock climbing. We found a local gym that would allow her age. My husband was thrilled to go. Me? Not so much. I had never had a need to climb a forty foot wall. But I did it for my little girl.

Within the next few months, we realized our entire family had fallen in love with the sport. Now we climb three to four times a week at multiple climbing gyms. We take trips around the country just to experience other gyms. Our daughter has a coach because she is a natural-born climber. She begs to do it every day and plans to compete when she’s allowed to at seven years old. I’ve seen her problem solving and self-confidence grow. I’ve seen how fiercely competitive and driven she can be to get up a route set for adults.

And I’ve seen how it’s changed my relationship with my husband. I know what it’s like to be up a thirty-five foot wall on the hardest route I’ve ever done. My arms are pumped, my legs are shaking, yet I have the hardest move right above me. Everything in me wants to quit, but I can hear his voice down below as he belays me from the ground. He’s encouraging me. He believes in me more than I do. The trust I have in him to catch me on the rope if my hand slips off the tiny hold emboldens me. So I gather the courage to try the move. The tendons in my fingers protest, but in seconds, I make it to the top. He lowers me to the ground, and we share a high-five and a kiss that romance novels are made of.

So rock climbing has not only changed my daughter’s life and enhanced our marriage, but it’s brought me a new level of confidence I never would have sought out had it not been for the second novel.

Oh, and a chance walk around the Garden of the Gods. Did I mention we’ve already booked our vacation for Colorado this summer? And this time, we’ll be the ones climbing those rocks.


Aliana's second book is....

and it's is available from-

Alaina Drake discovered her love of writing in the fourth grade when she won her first young author writing contest. After attaining a bachelor’s and master’s degree in English Literature, she set out to write novels that combine her two loves: erotic romance and classical literature. She has taught literature and writing at both the high school and college levels, and when she’s not writing, you’ll find her watching sports, baking cookies, and, of course, reading way past midnight. She is an avid rock climber and former ballerina, and she finds a lot of connection between the two activities despite their obvious differences. She lives in Omaha, Nebraska with her husband and daughter. She loves to interact with her fans on Twitter, Facebook, and on her website where she blogs about writing, reading, and the everyday joys of motherhood.
Many thanks for visiting us today Aliana,
Happy reading everyone,
Kay x


Monday, 18 January 2016

Crossing the Line Why It Feels So Damn Good To Be Bad… by Kate Deveaux

Thank you so much Brit Babes for having me. As a Brit myself, I am a huge fan of all of you and I am delighted to call many of you fellow Totally Bound authors.

And it’s no secret I am a big tennis fan and love Lucy Felthouse and Lily Harlem’s Grand Slam Series. Oh la la, it has made me look at my tennis game with new eyes and imagination!

I am so happy to stop by today and chat with you about something I’ve been pondering lately.

Crossing the Line
Why It Feels So Damn Good To Be Bad…

I don’t know about you, but when I want to read something really juicy, or watch a really good movie, there is one element I can almost always identify as the ‘hook’ that catches me every single time. What reels me in and keeps me turning pages and on the edge of my seat?  

It’s the Taboo factor.  That moment when the hero or heroine crosses the line between acceptable social behavior and behavior that is — let’s be nice and call it ‘questionable’— but oh, so drop dead sexy. As an erotic romance writer who enjoys reading and writing just about every type of erotic story, the topic of that taboo factor came up just last week. Mr. Deveaux and I and some good friends were sipping wine on New Years Eve when the subject came up of what our favorite books were. The first thing that came to my mind and I quickly blurted out was  “Thorn Birds.” Everyone looked surprised. Me, an erotic romance author picked the Thorn Birds? Colleen McCullough’s gut wrenching runaway bestseller from 1977? Yup, that was the first thing that came to my mind. Okay, I had a few glasses, but it was my first response and it made me think…

What is it about that decades old story that captured my imagination years ago and that of nearly 30 million readers? Taboo. Plain and simple. The priest and the woman he could not have. The same goes for many of my favorites, such as Jane Eyre, where a governess and her master Mr. Rochester find a tortured but compelling attraction to each other. Or a modern day story such as On The Island by Tracey Garvis Graves, where the female teacher and her sixteen-year-old student are stranded for years on a deserted island. These themes thrill us.  How about the torrid romance between a brother and his sister in law, or the sizzling attraction between an older woman and the twenty-year-old son of her best friend and neighbor? But the list of these naughty themes goes on and on and I am sure you have your favorite taboo themes.

We know in taboo romance that as the sexual tension and attraction builds, the story is going somewhere. Somewhere unspeakably delicious. Temptations will ignite into something intriguing, lusty and a little bit naughty.  Or a lot naughty. These stories push the envelope. Themes founded in everyday life, in the thrill of breaking rules in the face of a passion so ardent it knows no bounds. The “badder the better” and the hotter it gets when the stakes are totally taboo.

I don’t know about you, but I so love a naughty girl who gets just what she wants, a naughtier man. And I love a love story that breaks all barriers: race, sex, religion — you name it — begs to be broken. The sexiest thing in the world is two people, or more if you’re into that (and of course you are, you read erotic romance just like me!) who give up everything for their uncontainable passion.

I’d love to hear what you think about the taboo factor. What makes it so hot? It’s the theme of many of my novels and certainly will be for more in the future.

Thanks so much for having me and let’s keep the conversation going…




This bride takes ‘I do’ to a whole new level — just not with the groom.

In one week Chloe will walk down the aisle. Yet she’s a bride who can’t stop spying on the weddings of total strangers. Desperate to catch a glimpse of what true love really looks like, she is having serious second thoughts about tying the knot.

Until she meets Wes — the sexy long lost father of her groom. The hunk from Texas confirms her worst fears. She is marrying the wrong man.

Battling her intense attraction for Wes, the flame between them burns too hot to resist. Chloe and Wes give into their scorching passion and struggle with the consequences of their love.



KATE DEVEAUX is a die-hard romantic. A former wedding planner, Kate has always been "in love" with love! She was inspired to transition from writing racy short stories to full length manuscripts after meeting other authors in the romance world at industry workshops, conferences and events. Born in London, England, Kate has lived in both the U.K. and the U.S. When she’s not busy writing or reading, Kate can be found on the tennis court—yes, there’s even "love" in that game too!


Author website:





Street Team:

Sunday, 17 January 2016

An Excerpt from Natalie Dae's His Beautiful Wench



Drawn to the attic in her new home, Amelia finds a saucy nineteenth-century wench dress. At first glance, it’s just a dress, but once she puts it on, desire streaks through her and she’s transported to the past. Overwhelmed by lust, she is caught pleasuring herself, discovered by the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen, who turns out to be—her lover?

Amelia and Emmet join in an explosive sexual union, erasing the months—or is it centuries?—they have been apart as though they never existed. But suddenly Amelia awakes—alone.

Until the dress calls again.

Emmett’s not the only one lusting after Amelia. Lord Graham wants her and he doesn’t fight fair. He kidnaps her, sends Emmett on a deadly errand and forces Amelia to participate in his voyeuristic games. Although Amelia’s body betrays her, she vows to remain true to Emmett, but will he return? And can she escape the clutches of Lord Graham’s debauchery? Amidst subterfuge, treachery and murder, Amelia and Emmet’s love grows and they reach new heights of carnal passions.


He stood at the top of the stairs, arms held out for her. A sob caught in her throat and tears pricked her eyes. His sun-weathered face…God, how she itched to touch it, to run her fingertips over his full lips, to sift her hands in his thick wavy hair.

“Emmett,” she whispered, his name foreign yet so right on her tongue.

He rewarded her with a wide grin. “Ah, you couldn’t keep the game going, I see. Come here.”

She ran toward him, all fear gone, her past obliterated, replaced with the need to feel his chest against hers, his kiss on her lips. He pulled her into an embrace, one hand on her ass, the other roaming her back. She nestled her face in the crook of his neck and a strangled cry built in her throat then left her mouth. She touched her lips to his collarbone, the heat from his skin searing. His hand left her back and he weaved it through her hair, fingertips massaging her scalp.

“By God, I’ve missed you, wench.”

His voice sent shivers of desire through her, his use of wench an almost illicit, daring term that prodded her need for him higher. She hugged him to her, the planes of his back hard and recognizable beneath her hands. He smelled of sunshine, salt and that indefinable scent that was undeniably Emmett Dray. The smell she conjured on the nights she lay in bed after working at the saloon, hoping the remembrance of it would bring him into her dreams. The nights she tried to sleep unsuccessfully, the moans and sighs from the men and women in the whorehouse below making her wish she and Emmett created those noises. Tears spilled and she thanked God Emmett had returned to her safe—and prayed he would remain here for longer than his usual week between voyages. Those days sped by so fast she barely had time to become accustomed to his arrival before they once again held one another close beside the dock and prepared to say goodbye.

Don’t think of him leaving when he has only just arrived.

She sniffed and lifted her head, taking in the sight of him. More lines had appeared beside his eyes—him squinting due to the harsh sun, she’d wager—and he’d tanned darker than any other time she could remember. Where had he voyaged, this man of hers, to be so brown?

He rubbed his nose against hers then tilted his head, closing his eyes as his lips brushed hers. A thrill rushed through her and she tightened her hold on him, crushing him closer. She opened her mouth to invite his tongue in and it met hers. A groan cut short in her throat and she loved him with her mouth, pressing her pelvis into his. Hard cock greeted her and she moaned again, the need for him inside her paramount.

He broke the kiss, cupped her face and stared into her eyes.

Do they remind him of the ocean? Are they the same bright blue?

“It’s been difficult for you this time, Amelia?” He touched his brow to hers.

“It’s always difficult. Always.” She sighed and fingered his shoulder blades, ran her nails down his spine. “I’ll never get used to it. When will you—”

“Hush. There’s time later to discuss my next voyage.”

He lifted her into his arms and carried her over to a double bed, its head and footboards fashioned from iron poles. A multicolored patchwork quilt covered the mattress, a corner folded over, a sheet beneath. With one foot on the bed, he balanced her ass upon his knee, her back cradled in his arm, and used his free hand to fling the quilt farther aside. He lowered her into the bed and looked down at her, the rigidity of his cock evident underneath his shirt fronts. She held her breath at the sheer beauty of him, at the reality that he was really here. He raised his arm and slid his hand beneath her scooping neckline, lifting the material to peek beneath. He smiled, caressed her swells with his thumb and she released her breath. His splayed palm warmed her chest and he moved it toward her neck, one finger tracing the dip at the base of her throat.

“I love you, my beautiful wench.”

Emmett took his hand away and the loss of contact pained Amelia to such a degree that she reached out to grasp his wrist. He leaned to one side and took off his boots, her grip steadying him.

“Come to me,” she said, the ache in her all-consuming.

She pulled up her skirt and widened her legs, and he climbed onto the bed, kneeling between them. Amelia stared at him, wanting to read his expressions and remember them, shelve them for the lonely times to come. Warm hands smoothed along her calves, over her knees and up her thighs. Thumb tips brushed her mound and he cocked his head, one eyebrow rising. He shifted her skirt higher. His eyes widened.

“By God! Did you allow those women downstairs to fashion your undergarments?”

Amelia frowned and looked down, her head supported by pillows. A scanty piece of black material covered her thatch, familiar yet not. Had the women or Madam created her underwear? A moment of confusion lingered before dissipating completely.

“It’s nothing more than a strip of fabric!” His rich laugh filled her attic room and he gazed down at her, blue eyes bright. “My, you’re an amazing woman. So bold yet so innocent in allowing those females of the night to influence you.”

He grazed her lower belly, his fingertips feather-light, teasing. She tensed, waiting for him to ravish her, needing him to handle her with gentle roughness, yet his hands played over her skin with no urgency. She raised her hips, conveying to him that he move faster, but his grin told her he had taken charge.

Emmett bent his head, his breath hot on her inner thighs, day-old beard growth rasping her skin. Shock waves buzzed to her core and she fisted the sheet beneath her. He breathed in, his intake of air long.

Does he do what I do? Remember my scent when in his bunk at night? Does his throat thicken when he recalls it, tears close?

Love for him bloomed, her chest tight. God, how she’d missed him, and upon his return she realized she’d missed him more than she’d thought. Cool air bathed her as he pushed her underwear aside and parted her with finger and thumb. A puff of hot breath heated her a second before he swept his tongue up her slit, circling the sensitive nub at the top. She whimpered, his languid torment sweet yet maddening. She released the sheet and wound her fingers in his hair, the tresses coarse from sea salt, the feel of them heaven. He laved up and down, every so often dipping his tongue tip inside her.

Her orgasm came on swiftly, a raging burn that spread up her channel to the pit of her stomach. She clutched his head, willing his tongue faster, harder, but he continued with soft strokes, drawing out her pleasure. The tortuous abrasion nudged the intensity up a notch and she cried out as it spread through her lower body. Her nipples hardened, the peaks achingly taut, and she let go of his hair to massage her breasts through her dress. Orgasm at its peak, she lifted her hips higher and Emmett applied a little more tongue pressure, inserting two fingers inside her. She bucked, loosed a ragged moan and her juices spilled. The sensations receded and she stilled her hands, resting them flat on her chest.

Emmett raised his head and she gazed down at him, her eyes half closed, her heart rate fast. Aftershocks stabbed her and he shifted up, his body covering hers. His kiss tasted of her juices and she took what he offered, arms about his back. She moved her hands down to cup his backside and kneaded, loving the feel of him, loving the way he fitted against her. He rose, hands flat on the mattress beside her, and she mourned the loss of his mouth on hers. Licking her lips, she brought her hands up between them and undid his shirt. His flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes showed his desire and she snagged her fingers in the curls on his chest then swept over his skin to rest them on his shoulders.

He swooped down for another quick kiss, rose again and leaned on one hand while the other freed her breast. Rough with calluses from his ship’s rigging, his skin brushed over her nipple. The scuff of his coarse skin sent shudders of delight through her and she arched her back, pressing her breast into his palm.

“You’re a beauty,” Emmett whispered, his gaze meeting hers. “I dreamed of you every night and sometimes during the day.” His eyes moistened. “I had many a time when my mind wandered to thoughts of you.” He rolled her nipple between finger and thumb. “And sometimes my cock got so hard it ached.”

Amelia snatched in a breath and dug her nails into him. He pinched her nipple in rhythm with her pulse and she embraced his lower back, pressing his rigidity to her. His eyes conveyed so much—so many words and emotions.

“Being with you like this,” he whispered, “is all I want. All I’ll ever want.”

Her emotions betrayed her and a tear escaped, trailing a hot path to her temple then disappearing into her hair. Emmett released her nipple, leaned down and kissed the now cold tear-track, his soft lips peppering the shell of her ear.

“I missed you,” Amelia murmured, cupping his ass. “I wish—”

“As do I, my wench,” he whispered, his breath warming her ear.

Emmett reared up to remove his shirt then tossed it to the floor. A wave of longing encompassed her, so strong she followed her instincts and helped remove his breeches. He lay beside her propped up on one elbow and she caressed the small of his back, fondling her nipple with her other hand. She bent her legs and let her knees flop to the bed, their gazes locked. His fingertips swirled a circular pattern on the inside of one leg beside her knee and her hips bucked involuntarily.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked.

Amelia nodded. “Please…don’t tease me.”

His eyes darkened and he moaned, swiftly ripping the thin side strips of her underwear and moving on top of her. His cock speared her hole and she cried out, clutching his buttocks. Wrapping her legs around his, she lifted her hips, urging him to fuck her hard and fast. Hands flat on the mattress beneath her pillow, Emmett raised his chest and looked down at her, his thrusts sharp. She let out a short, victorious moan, spanning his ass cheeks again, his pelvis grinding against her.

He kissed her with a hunger that matched hers then lifted his head, his eyes searching for hers. The intensity of his stare stirred her desire and the spiral of a second orgasm gripped her. He sucked on her nipple. A spark of bliss fizzled, heightening her steadily growing pleasure. She released a whoosh of groan-laden air then gasped as his cock swelled further.


Her cunt clenched around him, and the lust coil burst through her. She dug her nails into his ass and keened, heady sensations overwhelming her. Tears of joy spilled, as did his seed, the wet heat of it sending her orgasm to a higher level. Her head went giddy and she hiked in a breath that snagged in her emotion-swelled throat.

“Christ, I love you, wench.”

Tuesday, 12 January 2016

Forever a Slave - A Little Interview with Sarah Masters

What inspired you to write this story?

I saw a status update on Facebook where an author had shared her way of creating Sci-Fi names. It really set my mind off, so I wrote Forever a Slave the next day. It was one of those books that just spilled onto the page.

Do you have any other Sci-Fi books available?

Yes, I have one called E2 in anthology called Brit Boys: On Boys, which is available now. I don’t go too much into technical stuff in my Sci-Fi, because as a reader I find it clouds my head so I wanted to write Sci-Fi tales that are easy on the brain!

Do you have plans to write more Sci-Fi?

Now that I’ve written two and enjoyed them, I think I will write more. It’s great to have another world where anything can happen and, as a writer, I’m not stifled by what could really happen or worrying about whether it’s believable. I’m in charge of my planet/worlds, so whatever I say goes LOL.

What other new releases do you have?

I have a shifter book called Mane Attraction, which was written years ago. Sadly, the publisher closed, so for a few years the book has been sitting in a file. I decided to get it out and give it a polish, and it’s great to have this story back out in the world.

What do you have planned next?

I have no idea! Maybe a shifter series, I’m not too sure. Or more Sci-Fi. It’s addictive to write!


Ke’ja has been stolen from Earth and taken to the planet Mezdon. He’s a sex slave, living in a hovel while his master, Vor’trev, lives next door in a modern house. This is the way of Mezdon, where every master has a slave and sex is considered something that can be done anywhere, anytime. Thrown by this reality, Ke’ja has to adapt—or find a way to return to Earth. The problem is, he’s already falling for his master and is fighting his emotions. He wants to go home but at the same time doesn’t want to leave the man who lights him up inside.

Vor’trev is not only a master but a judge, a man who has the power to return slaves to Earth if he feels they’ve been abducted unfairly. He’s broken the law for his previous slaves and engineered it so that their return to Earth went unnoticed by other members of Mezdon authority. But Ke’ja… No, he can’t bring himself to set the slave free. He’s Vor’trev’s, the only slave that has touched his heart, the only man he’s wanted as a life partner. Letting him go isn’t an option.

Two men, both wanting each other but unable to get past what they have to do to be together. Which one of them will break first?


Ke-ja sat on the mossy cliff top, naked as the day he’d been born except for a silver-colored ankle tag, and stared at the so-called sunset. The feelings of loss inside him were strong this evening—bloody awful, really, that gut-wrenching spasm he kept getting—and he wished his world was a different place. Somewhere like it used to be—mainly London, England, full of diversity and freedom.
Like Earth.
Here, on this Godforsaken planet, freedom was only a dream, something Earthlings no longer had the pleasure of. The planet, Mezdon, and the town of Gordah, was a nasty place, riddled with danger and fraught with terrified former Earth residents. Shit, how had he ever found himself here?
That was a damn easy question to answer, and one he didn’t even have to ask himself, yet he did. Too many times to count. Got him moving his attention elsewhere, away from the horrors that met his eyes every time he left his—what could he call it?—hovel and went into town.
Life was a weird bastard, he’d known that on Earth, but Christ, how much weirder was it now? Too bloody weird. He told himself every time he stared at the horizon—a blood orange mass of stripes that merged into one another, stretching up into this odd, fuzzy lime green—that he’d get back to Earth someday. Wasn’t likely, though. His ‘master’, a bloke who reckoned he owned Ke-ja and could do whatever he wanted with him, had said Earth wasn’t an option.
‘Once a body gets to Mezdon, there’s no going back unless a judge helps you out.’
His master was a judge. Funny how he wouldn’t help Ke’ja out. And the term ‘a body’—that said it all, didn’t it? Earthlings weren’t people anymore when on Mezdon, they were commodities, something to be used.
Even my name isn’t my own.
Master—Vor’trev as he was known to everyone else—had given him the name as soon as he’d been purchased.
Purchased. What kind of place allows that shit to go on?
A sick one, that was what.
“Fucking pissed off with this planet and everything on it.”
Ke-ja tried to swallow down a lump of emotion. Seemed it didn’t want to move, only wanted to get bigger, threatening to suffocate him. Might even be good if it did. At least he wouldn’t have to live here anymore. And he was a liar—he wasn’t sick of everything on Mezdon. Vor’trev didn’t piss him off. That was the kicker. If he did, things would be a damned sight easier.
“Get a grip.”
It wouldn’t do for him to get maudlin. He got threats of being punished for his behavior, albeit lesser chastisement than other slaves received. Even the slightest downturn of his mouth in public meant he’d have to get a slap or, worse, fucked until he couldn’t see straight. Yeah, fucked right out in the open for all to see. It didn’t help that Vor’trev was a good-looking sort, the kind of man Ke’ja didn’t mind being fucked by, the type he’d longed for on Earth but had never attracted.
Sod’s bloody law I got my wish when I don’t want it—in a place I don’t want it.
He shook his head. Had to get his mind back to the setting he’d taught himself to accept—the one where it appeared he was a ‘good boy’, ready to do whatever he was told. The thing was, he didn’t much like doing as he was told, but if it meant he was well treated while he figured out how to get onto the shuttle back to Earth, he’d act whatever way was expected so he didn’t arouse suspicion.
Who was he kidding? Suspicion had already been aroused. Vor’trev wasn’t stupid—he’d questioned Ke’ja many a time as to why he’d just accepted his fate. Said it wasn’t normal and nothing like he’d experienced in the past with other slaves he’d bought.
‘You’re pretending,’ he’d said.
Ke’ja hadn’t answered, instead holing himself up in his hovel and avoiding Vor’trev for as long as he could.
The soft swoosh of someone walking on the moss caught Ke’ja’s attention. Had to be Vor’trev, coming out to see what he was up to. Checking up on him. He’d probably gone to the hovel and found it empty. And there was no chance of Ke’ja going off somewhere without being discovered. His ankle tag saw to that. Logged his every move.
Need to find a way of getting that off too.
“Brawny bastard, you,” Vor’trev said behind him.
Ke’ja didn’t jump or shudder, not like he had when he’d first come here. He was used to being crept up on. Used to having his privacy violated. He closed his eyes, wishing that voice didn’t wash over him the way it did, all deep, soft tones with a hint of sexiness. Just his luck to be bought by someone Ke’ja fancied.
“Naked suits you,” Vor’trev said. “Clothes—especially the ones you turned up in—aren’t for you. Made to be shown off, you are.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not used to parading round with nothing on, so forgive me if I don’t agree with you.”
Ke’ja opened his eyes and waited for a slap, or for Vor’trev to grip him by the upper arms and haul him standing so he could give him a bollocking. Neither happened. It shouldn’t have surprised him. Vor’trev had become softer as the months had gone on.
“Yes, I’ll forgive you,” Vor’trev said. “Although you should be punished for what you said. Can’t seem to bring myself to do it much these days, even in public.”
That was true. When in Vor’trev’s home, or in the hovel, Vor’trev rarely lashed out. He fucked him, though—yeah, he did that all right—but punishment in other forms was getting rarer by the day.
Dangerous, that.

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Friday, 1 January 2016

Happy New Year!

The Brit Babes would like to wish all their readers a very happy and prosperous 2016. We thought rather than sharing our resolutions with you today we'd share random facts. We're also very lucky to have a fabulous street team who give us support, laughter and inspiration every day of the year so they've jumped on board with random facts about themselves too. Here goes, let the crazy begin...

Lily Harlem - My dad looks so like Arsene Wenger (Arsenal football club manager) that he sometimes gets stopped and asked for his autograph. The last time it happened and I was with him he was in a silly mood so put on a ridiculous accent and even offered to pose for a selfie with the 'fan'! I was completely mortified! LOL

Emmy Ellis (Natalie Dae, Sarah Masters, Geraldine O'Hara) - Before I eat any coloured sweets, I have to arrange them in their colour batches. I have to walk on the right-hand side of people (comes from always being closest to the kerb when out with the kids). I'm obsessed with throw pillows--currently have 30 scattered over various beds/living room furniture. I love hoover suction marks on the carpet. I sniff fabric softener in the shop. I shudder every time I touch a shopping trolley or basket - can't deal with wondering how many people touched it with toilet hands before me. There are more. I'm a tad quirky/OCD.

KD Grace - I'm having a love affair with kettle bells and I have the callous to prove it. My favourite sweet treats are Snickerdoodles cookies -- my recipe!

Kay Jaybee - I have a small bump on the bridge of my nose after my youngest child knocked me out when she was only 18 months old. We were playing aeroplanes- it got a bit too giggly and I didn't dodge her 'wing' quick enough- Whoops!

Lucy Felthouse - I take three sugars in my tea, which I'm constantly mocked about, getting comments like "would you like some tea with your sugar?" What can I say, I like it sweet!

Tabitha Rayne - I twiddle my thumbs like an old Grampa. I had no idea I did this until my sister said, 'What are on earth you doing?' I looked down and sure enough, there on my lap, my thumbs were a-twiddlin' in my cupped palms. I remember my great-Grampa doing that and always being fascinated. How did I not realise I did it? I only found out last month!

Victoria Blisse: I peel my banana in what I've found out is an unusual way. I run my thumbnail down the back from top to bottom then split open the peel and pull out the banana. My friend in school used to wince every time she saw me do it! 

Fiona -  Everyone says I look and sound like Catherine Tate (British impressionist). Some even going as far as calling me on stage to do impressions while on holiday. What a f**king liberty :-)

Charmaine - I've never drunk a cup of coffee. I gag at the first mouthful.  My favourite holiday is hallowe'en and I dress up every year.  Unfortunately no matter how hard I prayed I never did receive my letter to say I could attend hog warts.

Emma - I've lived in 5 different countries and speak several foreign languages (with varying degrees of fluency). In reverse order, the countries are: Ireland (Republic), Belgium, Canada, USA, and of course England. Extra points for working out what languages I speak. French, German, Spanish, Welsh.  I have appeared 3 times on BBC Songs of Praise in 2014. I even had a speaking part on the Mother's Day special! 

Debi - I am 5'9" tall have blonde hair and blue eyes, but not the pretty blue. (boring lol) I am on my second marriage and he is my soul mate. I have been with BH for 15 years now. I am kinda embarrassed to say I didn't have my first orgasm till I was 27! Just took me a while to find the right man. (juicy) I am 42 and have no children but not from lack of trying. I think I am a closet naughty girl. I just can't get my hubby to read so we can try new things. I have had a stressful life but the one thing that helps me is to sit and read and block everything out. Let me live in someone else's shoes for a while. 

Kathy - When I eat M&M's, I like to make a pattern of the colors - red, green, blue, orange, etc... If there are extra colors, I will eat those first then start on my line. I recently became a pleasure panel reviewer for a blog in the UK - Cara Sutra. You ladies over the pond might of heard of her. Lastly, I love to zoos and if I am in a new state, I will track down the zoo and see what it's like.

Karen - If there is a gap in a pair of curtains, I have a meltdown, they have to be properly closed and straight! I have duck feet, they point out when I walk. I can have an orgasm just by having my fingers or toes squeezed.

Danielle - OOH this is fun! My family has had season tickets for NY Rangers hockey since 1979 - I started going with my dad in 1989 when I was 10 and to this day I consider the NY Rangers my truest love. I have a soft spot for bassists, hockey goalies & Irish wrestlers (Finn Balor/Prince Devitt in particular). My ultimate life goal is the endless summer - May 1 - Oct 31 in NYC, Nov 1 - April 30 in Perth, Western Australia.

Cheryl Jackson - I once handed Princess Diana some flowers. People who know me well know how much of a tom boy I am but on this occasion I was wearing a very "pretty" dress complete with lace bits and I curtsied. Okay I was only about 8 or 9. Not including toes and fingers which I've lost count of, I've broken 13 bones in my life including an eye socket. Most of them before I was 15. Only 2 I can think of were after that age. I spent the first 12 years of my life in Germany and still miss the beauty and especially the food now.

Susan - I may have OCD tendencies.....all my books are in alphabetical order...and in chronological order for each author.....when hanging clothes outside the pegs on each item have to match...and preferably co-ordinate with said item. Funniest thing I've read this week.....CDO....which is OCD in alphabetical order... 

Alison - I lived in Gibraltar when Chuck and Di (Prince Charles and Lady Diana) got married and they flew to Gibralter to start their cruise around the Med...anyway I was on the fleet tender (ie. tug) that escorted them out and stayed till after the press had gone .... I recall as a wee 10 yr old seeing them both in private moments, there was love there in the beginning and it was playful .. he said something in her ear and she laughed and 'ran away' and he chased her and caught her in a hug ....sigh ...

Elizabeth - I just got my first two tattoos at 50, it was a total bucket list thing, my kids hate them but the hubby loves them LOL

Phaedra - Hubby and I were in an X-rated movie and no, I will not tell the name of it.

Evita - I am the oldest of 8 kids, I know all of their birthdays. I used to be able to whistle but after a couple of dentist appts when I had a wisdom tooth pulled and a couple of crowns, I can no longer whistle. At a Michael Buble concert he does a set where he goes to the back on a smaller stage, it was right behind where my seat was, he walked around and he knelt in front of me, I touched his thigh! 

Deanna - When Steve asks me a question, and if the answer calls for it, I always answer "That is correct", instead of "Yes" or "Yeah" or "Yep". Steve thinks it's funny that I'm so formal. I didn't even know I did that until he pointed it out. When I was a kid, I studied Ancient Egypt in history class and it was always a dream of mine to go visit. When I was 27, I worked for an international consulting company and I was sent on my first assignment. It was to Egypt. I spent a year there. When I was done and that dream was fulfilled, I stopped and thought "Now what?"

With many thanks for stopping by and celebrating the first day of 2016 with us. Feel free to add a random fact in comments, we'll look forward to reading them. Also if you're interested in joining our street team, details here.

The Brit Babes x