Thursday, 26 January 2017

Looking Forward to 2017 by Lucy Felthouse

For various reasons, 2016 was not the best year for me. Therefore I was very glad to see the back of it and head into a new year. I know it's a psychological thing, but hey, if it helps people be positive, then what's the harm?

So yeah... I'm very much looking forward to seeing what 2017 brings. It got off to a pretty good start - I've had two books come out, both re-releases, but still awesome (especially since one of those was the last remaining book that was in the clutches of a certain non-paying publisher). I've got other books in the publication pipeline, I'm working on a couple of WIPs, I'm plotting and planning, both by myself and with my fellow Brit Babes. Exciting times lie ahead, and I really hope readers will enjoy what's coming.

I've got a holiday and some weekends away planned, and other holidays in consideration stages... so lots to look forward to, professionally and personally.

So, while 2016 might have completely kicked my arse, I'm proud to say I came out of the other end. Not necessarily in one piece, but I'm here. And I'm looking forward, stronger and more determined than ever. 2017 is going to be a good one - I can feel it!

Thank you all for your continued support. You rock!

Happy Reading,
Lucy x


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), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at:

Tuesday, 24 January 2017


In honour of the Australian Open this week, GRAND SLAM is on special offer at just 99c/99p. Grab this sexy BDSM novel while you can...

Back Cover Information

California had seduced me with promises of a new life working at Los Carlos Tennis Academy. What I didn’t expect was the dark, brooding number one seed, Travis Connolly, resisting my help. He wasn’t interested in my psychology skills. Instead his attention was drawn to the edgy, sharper corners of my desires, proving that they existed, setting me challenges and driving me crazy to the point of combustion.

I’m the best tennis player in the world—officially—so why would I need a damn woman full of psychobabble to get me on form? Despite my irritation, however, I can’t resist pushing Marie Sherratt’s buttons even though doing that shows her the darkest shades of my lust, the parts of me I buried deep. So I set her a challenge, one she rises to, one that has me rising too, and before long my game relies on her calling the shots, hitting the target and bending to my will. One thing was certain, being not just master of the court, but also of Marie is seriously good for my soul.

Monday, 23 January 2017

Special Guest - L M Mountford

Please welcome LM Mountford to the Brit Babes blog today - he's chatting about being a male erotica writer in a female dominated world! Enjoy...

Hi, I’m L.M. Mountford.

I’m an erotica author, but please don’t judge me by that alone. I’m also trying to break into dark romance, historical action and sci-fi/ fantasy. Honestly, though, I’m interested in anything plot that involves sex and violence. They make up some of the greatest stories in my opinion. A story is like any portrait, it needs to be made up of many colours, but make sure it has these two and you’re bound to be a success.

When I was in school, I wanted to be an actor. I gave that up after a final 'E' grade in GCSE Drama. That was a knock as everyone told me I was great. Before that and now, my dream is to be a successful author. I may be an author but I doubt I'll ever be successful, so I largely write for the love and challenge of it.

I wrote my first story when I was 14/15. A fanfiction story that I posted online. I’m something of an anime aficionado you see, and like any little boy, my mind had a tendency to wander. After that, it wasn’t long before I moved into the erotica genre, after all, what is it a boy that age thinks about, and I have been in the genre ever since.

Although I’d never really thought about self-publishing, it occurred to me when I was 21 after running across the kindle section of Amazon and seeing how many short stories had been published and were selling. It was something of an eye-opener. Until then, I’d thought KDP was for novels. Shortly after, I wrote and published Sweet Temptations: The Babysitter. I’d thought that would be the hard part, but after publishing, I came to realise it was only the beginning. Not only that, but I was woefully unprepared.

If I'm entirely honest it's a bit lonely being a man in the largely female dominated genre. I know other guys who write erotica of course, but we're like islands in the Atlantic Ocean, vastly separate and very different. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, what I see one way they see another so if I ever get stuck I can just put a notice on Facebook and a whole new way of things will open up to me, but it's still lonely. Whenever someone finds out I write erotica, I know a lot of jokes will be coming my way. It's almost like a bit of gossip everyone knows and just has to tell someone. It also doesn't help that I apparently 'don't look like someone who writes porn' (yes that is a quote from someone I know). It can be quite a strain on my character, but I enjoy writing erotica so I let it roll off my back as much as possible. Well, enjoy might be pushing it as it can be an extremely frustrating genre to work with, but the challenge is as much the fun as the feeling of accomplishment you get whenever it's finished.

My last Published work Confessions was particularly a challenge as it was both written from the female perspective, and the content meant it was difficult to write without turning it into a porn script.  In my first published book Sweet Temptations: The Babysitter, one of the biggest complaints was that there wasn't enough sex. Don't ask me how a book with a sex scene that took up a third of the pages was not enough but apparently, they wanted more. So I decided to give the public just that in my second. However, the same critics then told me there was too much. 

I don't mind saying Confessions was the bane of my life for two years. I was beset by writer's block to such a degree that by the end I was writing for the sake of writing and it was up to my editor to give me a needed kick up the arse. That being said, I'm glad I wrote it. It began as a commissioned fanfic and the story challenged me to many degrees as I can honestly say I've never written an M/M/M/M/F scene before.

Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, some of the scenes have caused some distress due to triggers and that has caused it to be critically received. A hard ending to something that was quite a hard time in my life as this work challenged me and made me think hard about if I'm truly meant to be a writer.

I still have a great deal of personal doubt, but I took the bull by the horns and I'm still here. Currently, i'm working on four projects - 

A four-part sci-fi Futanari erotic story, again another commission that I will be turning into an original work. It tells the story of a woman whose body is changing after an accident, and she finds herself fighting the urges brought out in her by the presence of the daughter of her father’s friend, who’s staying with her so she can keep an eye on her while her father away. 

A short contemporary romance set on the shores of Australia that has lost lovers reunited and sparks flying. It will be my first try at first person POV and while I'm not sure if it will have a future, it has potential to be more than just another standalone short-story. 

A historical adventure novel. The thrilling adventure set on the slopes of Victorian Natel amidst the blood and chaos of the Zulu-Angola war.

And finally a historical/erotic dark romance set on the deck of the titanic that I hope to have finished by next year, though it's far more likely it will two or three. 

When Mina returns for her stepbrother’s 21st birthday, she thinks her days of lusting after him are over. Caught up in the heat and passion of the moment, she is stunned to find them back in bed together; their feelings clearly far from resolved. Haunted by her desire, and her growing appetite, Mina now has another problem… she must head down a path of lust and desire; torn between the dark delights of the handsome bad boy down the street and her adorable stepbrother who has always been there for her. Can she confront the truth she has long tried to bury? How far will she go to save the one she wants, but knows she can never truly have?

A full length, 40,000+ word novel, Confessions is the stand-alone erotic drama from the Author of the sinfully delicious, Sweet Temptations Trilogy. Warning! It contains adult themes, harsh language, and graphic content, descriptions of intense sexual scenes, and dubious consent that might be triggers for some readers. 


This is quite the erotic read, complete with various sexual pairings and groupings. If you’re looking for a book that includes some taboo topics, dirty talk and name-calling, this may be the coming-of-age erotic book for you! - Geek Nymph

This is a taboo/forbidden read that is full of steamy pages and a incredible plot. This is definitely not for anyone under 18 as there are some highly charged sex scenes that are WOW! This is not the typical stepbrother story it’s so much more. - Hell's Mouth 

The plot was fresh and the sex scenes were definitely hot enough to melt my Kindle. - Lynn Cooper, author of The Dominant Seduction Series

This is one of those forbidden step-brother romances with an especially dark twist. I know I definitely didn't see it going in the direction it went. Suspenseful? Uh, yea. Sexy? Absolutely. - Always Love Me Some Books

Before I say goodbye, I'd also like to share a snippet of my next release. It's not finished yet but it should go live later this year and the details will be in my newsletter and blog as soon as they are available. So here is...
Afternoon Tea
By L.M. Mountford

The sizes were not quite exact. There were flecks of jam dotted here and there. And some of the buttercream had spilled over the edge when they’d been pressed together; but all in all, she doubted she had ever made a finer batch of Viennese Whirls.   
“Now that’s what I call a proper tea time treat.” Beaming, Racheal turned her eyes up from the biscuits to face the bank of webcams on the other side of her kitchen. There were six in-all. Each strategically arranged on a collapsible rigging to provide the best shots of the long island worktop. The cams buzzed with life, their inbuilt motion sensors detecting her motion and refocusing. “And these are great for sharing with friends over a brew, or if you just fancy something to nibble on as you go about the house.” 
It was a loosely rehearsed speech she’d been agonising over all morning. A mesh of facts, quips and banter she devised before any show to pick and mix as she saw fit in the moment and, coupled with her delicate beauty, pouting lips and soft emerald eyes framed by honey-blond tresses, helped to endear her to her audience.
With a twist of her lips that boarded on devilish, she plucked a biscuit from the plate and like a connoisseur pondering and savouring a fine vintage, exaggerated a long, deep breath. There was very little of the freshly baked aroma. It had been all but spent in the time it had taken her to perform the delicate operation to cream and sandwich the two biscuits together. Fortunately, the treats were still warm and the fruity bouquet of strawberry and blackberry jams wafting round her nostrils was more than enough incentive to have her sighing a low, delectable sound for the cameras. As dad says, what the eyes don’t see the chief gets away with.
Biscuit crumbled as she bit into it, cream coating her tongue. Though the measurements she’d quoted for the camera were the generic quantities, this recipe was one of her own. And it was very nice, but there was too much butter. Nearly there, she observed while chewing, maybe swap 20gs of butter for sugar, with perhaps two teaspoons of cinnamon to compliment the buttercream.  There was still plenty of time. Her new book’s deadline wasn’t until the beginning of May, that still gave her two months to work out all the little kinks. 
She swallowed, plush pink tongue darting out to collect any lingering traces of the buttercream. “Like most cakes, these are best eaten on the day you make them but will last for two or three more if properly stored.” As she spoke, she placed the half-eaten biscuit onto a piece of folded kitchen paper, then reached underneath to trigger the remote control hidden underneath, activating the cam’s shutoff timer.   
30, 29,28... Mentally mirroring the countdown, she continued, carefully picking up the plate of Viennese whirls and holding it up for the cameras to focus on. She pulled a broad smile, praying there weren’t crumbs in her teeth “Make that special person in your life a few of these and they’ll be putty in your hands.” 17,16,15… “But I’m afraid that’s all for today my lovelies.”11,10,9… “Thanks for tuning in and until next week, I’m Rachael Hart and this is-” The signoff died on her lips, her smile dropping. “What? No!” 
It didn’t make sense. She stared at the camera rigging, not entirely sure what she was seeing. Then it clicked, and she only wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and cry and ball her fists and hit something like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, and it was all she could do to place the plate of bisects back onto the island, be it not as delicately as the crookery warranted. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t anything go the way she wanted, instead of all just crashing down around her head? 
A second. Damnit, that was all she’d needed, one second. Just one more damn itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny second. Instead, the cams had cut out a full five second’s too early, effectively cutting her off mid exit.
 “For Fuck sake!” she cursed, slapping her hands down on the counter hard enough to send stinging barbs zipping through her palms. Angry tears burned the corners of her eyes. This was why she hated prerecording shows. An entire morning’s work, ruined. 
She most of accidentally changed back to the factory setting while redirecting the feed without realising.  
On any other day, the cams would have live streamed a hi-definition visual and audio feed directly to her website. Today, however, she had redirected the footage to her laptop for storage. It gave her a peace of mind to know she had an emergency show on hand, an insurance policy against one of life’s unforeseen, and unavoidable, eventualities rearing its ugly head and throwing a spanner in her works. She’d been meaning to do one for a while and, after that debacle this morning, it had been all she could think to do. After all, things couldn’t exactly get any worse. 
And it had all started so perfectly...
Humming the jaunty tune of Game of Throne’s The Bear and the Maiden Fair, Rachael could barely contain her self-congratulatory grin as she rolled the sizzling sausages over the lip of the frying pan onto an almost bursting plate of bacon and eggs. Mmm…Garrick’s going to love these.  
So far, everything was going to plan. She’d woken up an hour early, quickly turned off the alarm clock so it wouldn’t wake her sleeping husband, then gone around the house unplugging all the phones for good measure. After a quick shower that was sure to be a personal record breaker and dressed in nothing but her fluffy pink dressing gown, her hair tightly wrapped in a towel, she’d slipped downstairs and into the kitchen to prepare her man’s favourite breakfast in bed. 
This, however, was just the first of the surprises she had prepared for him today and the thought of what awaited made it impossible to restrain her grin. 
Steam billowed up with an angry hiss as she dunked the pan into the sink but Racheal was already pouring two glasses of orange juice, anticipation coiling around her belly. So much was riding on today, and it had been so long since they’d had breakfast together, She felt almost like a girl on Christmas morning just counting down the minutes until she can open her presents. 
Placing the glasses on either side of the plate, she carefully picked up the serving tray and carried it round the island, out the kitchen, through the hall and up the stairs. At the top of the stairs and the first on the right, their bedroom door was just as she’d left it, closed but not entirely shut. Somehow managing to balance the tray with one hand, she gave the door just enough of a push to open a gap wide enough to slip through then nudged it closed behind her with a nudge of her heel. 
Garrick was still asleep. Stretched languorously across the bed, lying on his front with his legs on his side and his face half buried in his wife’s pillows with inky strands of sleep tousled hair fanned out across relaxed, classily handsome features, he resembled a great lion stretched across a rock. A powerful beast wrapped in human skin, lord of all he surveyed and sheer force of nature, now at deceptive peace, sleeping off a long night’s hunting. 
Well aware he slept naked, hot tingling feelings shot out from her core as she placed the breakfast down on their chest of draws, her eyes roaming over the great heap in the comforter that was all that barred him from her voyeur delights, her mind swimming with thoughts of just how she might wake him. Her mouth began to water when she paused over the curve his butt and couldn’t help picturing his thick veiny cock pressed between him and the mattress, swollen and engorged, the head glistening with precum just begging to be licked. Garrick was by nature a heavy sleeper and after his long spell of late nights, she might have to pay him special lip service.  
He must have gotten back very late last night. Usually, she would wait up for him whenever he was running late, but since all the trouble with Natural Beauty began, Garrick had been forced to stay on later and later. After a week of these, her husband had finally told her to just go to bed if he wasn’t home by ten.  It was with great reluctance that she’d agreed, but only after she’d fallen asleep on the sofa while waiting for him two days in a row and been too groggy to perform her show the next day, and she never went to bed without leaving his dinner out and ready to go in the oven beside a loving note and explicit instructions on how to cook it. Alpha male or not, no one fucked with her kitchen. 
“Morning sleepy head.” Careful to keep her voice soft to avoid waking him too suddenly, she bent down to place a soft kiss on his brow. “Rise and shi-ahhh!”
In the time it took for one sleep-fogged emerald eye to flicker open, a long chiselled arm snapped out from under the covers to hook her waist and drag her in. The world spun. Softness rushed up to meet her back as she was all but entangled in the duvet. Then Garrick was on her, his mouth claiming hers, swallowing her surprised squeak as his tongue found hers.
There was nothing sluggish in the kiss. Nothing slow or tentative. Just hunger. Her husband kissed her like a man parched and starving, his tongue drinking her in, sliding over and around hers, flicking over the sides in soft teasing movements that made her toes curl and clit pulse. Heat erupts in her centre as his lips move against her, the sublime friction making her skin tingle as that sinful tongue teased her senses, mimicking the motions that could have her Cumming in moments. A silent, familiar promise that made her wet.

Thursday, 19 January 2017

Dream Weavers

By K D Grace

I’ll be the first to admit I don’t have nearly as many sexy dreams as I’d like, but then who does right? More often than not 

my dreams are mundane bits and pieces of detritus that make no sense and are just my brain sorting through the events of the day or the things that are on my mind. Oh I get my fair share of disturbing dreams, nightmares even, but not often. I also have those oldies but goodies in which I’m naked in queue at the super market, or I suddenly realize the toilet stall I’ve chosen is right on High Street with no door and no walls.

One of my very favorite classes in Uni was a psychology class that involved keeping a dream journal. At first I couldn’t remember anything when I woke up. Then my teacher suggested I keep a notebook by the side of my bed and set my alarm for every two hours. I was thrilled when I started remembering mundane bits and pieces. It didn’t take long until I was remembering multiple dreams and long, detailed sequences. I kept a dream journal for a long time after the class came to an end. I only stopped because it was beginning to take more and more time as I remembered more and more details. The thing about dreams is that everything can either symbolize something that could be important or, as Freud observed, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

In all that time of keeping a dream journal, I still didn’t have all that many erotic encounters. Let’s face it, there aren’t nearly enough sexy sessions in the dream world, and if I could figure a way to get more for all of us, I’d certainly do it. Wouldn’t I be a hero if I did? Having said that, dream sequences are an absolute treasure-trove for a writer, and especially for a writer of sexy romance. If we want our romantic hero and heroine, who are head over heals for each other, and who would never dream of sex with anyone else, to fool around or have a threesome or even an orgy, voila! Dream sequence. If we want to make our couple, who hasn’t yet done the nasty hotter for each other, and give our readers a bit of a yummy teasing, voila! Dream sequence. Sex, love, passion, kink in any and every combination can infiltrate a dream in total innocence while at the same time heating up and massively changing the characters’ view of their waking world.

Add a bit of the nightmarish to the erotic, and you have scary and nasty side by side. That’s the stuff of vampire novels, that’s the stuff of horror films. That’s also the stuff of chaos and tension in any novel. There’s nothing hotter than being scared and aroused at the same time, or being aroused while expecting the worst at any minute.

I wrote The Psychology of Dreams 101 with that mix of sexy dreams and disturbing nightmares in mind. What happens when the dream that started out too hot to handle turns scary? And even worse, what happens when you’re not sure what’s dream and what’s reality?

Even when I stopped keeping a dream journal, in my regular journal, I still recorded powerful dreams, dreams that disturb me, or dreams that left me feeling like maybe I’d touched something deeper in myself. I recorded them and then I analyzed them and explored what they meant to me, what the Self was trying to communicate. I almost always found my efforts rewarding and enlightening.

That being said, I don’t think it’s much of a surprise that some of my stories have been inspired by dream I’ve had, or that dreams turn up in almost all of my novels and more than a few of my stories. The Psychology of Dreams 101 was simply a chance for me to play around a little bit with the idea of the dream as a driving force in story – in sexy stories in particular. Because of its nature, the emphasis in Psych of Dreams is erotic, but at the same time more than a little bit of nightmarish horror sneaks in. That’s probably not too big of a surprise considering the strange imagination the story came from. No worries though, there is happy ending, in spite of the twists and turns in the dream world.

Here’s a dreamy little taster.

The Psychology of Dreams 101 Blurb:

What if there was punishment when you didn’t dream the right dreams? That’s the dilemma Leah Kent, and her professor, Al Foster must face—dream right, or take the punishment. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a wander into the sexy and dark unconscious as Leah takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required dream journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys. But not all dreams are pleasant ones, and some have far-reaching repercussions in the waking world.

The Psychology of Dreams 101 Excerpt:

“Now then, let’s see if we can’t ease the pain in you lovely little bottom before we get on with the spanking, ” Dr. Clyde said before Leah could ask what he meant by his remark about them never getting out of the dream. He rummaged and rattled through the surprising abundance of the desk drawers until he came up with a tube of something she couldn’t see in her bent-over position, but as he unscrewed the lid, she immediately smelled peaches. There was the sound of something squirting, and then she felt the doctor’s large palm spreading cool lotion against her burning butt. She sighed and clenched at the pleasure of it. “There now. That feels better, doesn’t it hon? Just what the doctor ordered. We don’t want that lovely ass of yours too wounded just yet. Your punishment has hardly begun, after all.”

“Peach? Seriously?” Al said, coming closer to observe and sniffing as he did so.

“Yup! And it’s edible too,” Dr. Clyde said. “Taste. Not like that, Dear God, Al, put the tube down, and use your imagination. You’re in a dream for fuck sake! And you,” he turned his attention back to Leah, “you lie still. You’re being punished. You don’t get to see what’s happening. You have to trust the dream, trust that what happens next is all a part of the experience.”

“Enough of the psycho-babble, already, Derrick. We get it,” Al protested. There was a shuffling of male bodies behind her, and Leah felt a different set of hands, clearly Al’s hands. They were not quite as large as Dr. Clyde’s, but they were slightly calloused. She wondered how someone who taught courses on dream psychology got calloused hands. He gently cupped her hips, careful not to touch her wounded left ass-cheek. Then she felt the humid heat of his breath just before his warm wet tongue pressed against the place where her thigh met her left buttock.

“Oh God!” she managed, as the unexpected, but delightful, sinuous lap of his tongue up the rounded contour of her ass cheek moved inward, closer to the cleft that she knew would taste nothing at all like peaches. Meanwhile the doctor droned on that though at one point in our evolution, we liked the scents and odors of the body, at present that was less the case, and scented and flavored lubricants and lotions for sex often made the partners more comfortable with their personal smells.

“I like her smell,” came Al’s muffled reply. “It’s her I want to taste, not fucking peaches.”

“Wait a minute, you can smell me? I mean I’m sure you can smell me now, but … before?”

“I ha’ a ‘en’ative nothe,” came the slurped reply against her ass, and she decided right then and there that she was just fine with that.

“I fail to see how eating her out is going to help ease the pain at all,” Dr. Clyde observed as Al licked and slurped and nibbled ever closer to the ache at the center that had nothing to do with the spanking.

“It’s my dream.” Leah protested, wriggling and squirming to open her legs against the restraint of the panties around her knees. “If I want him to do … that, then surely he should do that.”

“It’s hardly a punishment though, is it?” the doctor said, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest observing Al’s efforts from the edge of Leah’s peripheral vision.

“Who the fuck ca -- res?” she managed with a little gasp as Al fingered her open to make room for his very talented tongue.

She was just getting into it, just beginning to think that maybe Al’s tongue was prehensile when she heard a grunt and opened her eyes to discover the good doctor had moved closer, and he was now observing with his trousers open, his gaze locked on what Al was doing to her bottom and his fist locked around his heavy erection, which pointed accusingly at her ass as he shifted his hips to free his balls. Not that she wanted him to stop or anything, but she was just about to comment that she failed to see what his cock stroking had to do with her punishment when the sudden absence of a warm tongue from her nether region and the sound of a zipper opening told her that, in solidarity with his fellow male, Al had just freed Simba. She pressed her legs tightly together and wriggled just enough for the binding panties to drop to the floor. Then she kicked them aside and she was free too, opening her thighs anticipating more than Al’s tongue when the damn doctor called a halt to all activities.

“Now what?” Both she and Al growled at the same time.

“You’re not supposed to fuck her, Al. You’re supposed to spank her, punish her, make her repentant.”

“Oh I am,” she managed breathlessly. “I’m very repentant. I’ll never write down fake dreams again.”

Dr. Clyde ignored her. “Look, in the dreams, you’re both being punished. No one gets satisfaction until the punishment is complete.”

“Seriously?” Leah said, and Al cursed profusely. Under different circumstance to hear such foul language from the mouth of her mild-mannered instructor would have shocked her, but at the moment, she was inclined to agree with him completely.

“Well, I suppose I could have some satisfaction,” the doctor added with a little shrug of his broad shoulders, and the movement made his dick look like it shrugged too in its anxious agreement. “After all it’s not my dream and I’m not being punished.” Cock in hand, he insinuated himself between Al and Leah and with a quiver of anticipation, Leah wriggled against the table as he fingered her open.

“Wait a minute,” Al said. “This is Leah’s dream. What if she doesn’t want you to fuck her? What if she just wants to get on with it?”

“No, no! That’s all right. I’m good with it. I’m fine.” Leah just wanted someone to fuck her and soon! Since it was her dream, why not the good doctor? He was certainly ready.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t put your cock in her mouth if you want,” Dr. Clyde said to Al. “I suppose that could be considered punishment. It could certainly be considered humiliation in most BDSM circles, if done under the right circumstances, or so I’m told,” he added quickly.

“What if I put my cock up your ass instead,” Al said, shocking both Leah and Dr. Clyde as he yanked at the waistband of the man’s expensive trousers.

Before the doctor could protest, Leah added her own bit of profanity to the blue language hanging in the air. “It’s my dream, damn it! So just put your fucking cock in his fucking hole already! I don’t see how that can affect my punishment. And when you do, I want to see, so Doc, if you’ll just hand me the mirror.”

“Wait a minute, Al’s the Dom, not you.”

“Shut up, Doc!” both she and Al said at once.

“It’s my dream,” Leah repeated, “Besides,” she added quickly, “I’ve never seen a man fuck a man before.”

“Come to think of it, neither have I,” Dr. Clyde said. “Do you think you can angle the mirror so I can see too.”

Monday, 16 January 2017

Special Guest - L M Somerton

Please welcome the lovely L M Somerton to our blog today chatting about Tales from the Edge.

New beginnings

There’s a line in a song by rock band The Editors, “Some things should be simple; even an end has a start”, which has resonated with me recently as I come to the end of a book series. Tales from The Edge consists of eight books and four free short stories and began almost four years ago with Reaching The Edge. The main characters, Olly and Joe, have inhabited my head ever since and letting go has proved anything but simple. I wish they were real – they’d make really good friends and I think a night out with them might be an adventure!

I didn’t want to write a never-ending series where readers forget what the whole premise was about and characters become formulaic caricatures. That’s boring for the reader and the writer. But, I never imagined how involved readers would become with the fictional lives of a group of kinky, loving men who overcome their problems with the help of friendship, perseverance and a healthy dose of snark. Writing the last book took far longer than it should have done because part of me didn’t want to write ‘the end’. It seems even writers have a comfort zone – this series has become mine. Finishing it is a psychological kick in the rear. The chance to try new and different things – to sort through all the ideas and plots scribbled in notebooks and on scraps of paper and finally do something about them. I have a rough plan for this year and have taken the scary decision to have some time off from my day job, so maybe those plans might actually come to fruition.

I’ve written before about the pros and cons of series versus standalone stories. As a reader I enjoy both (providing there aren’t too many cliff-hangers involved) but as a writer, a series has more appeal with more time to develop reoccurring characters and the intertwined threads of their lives. So that’s what I’ll be doing this year – completing The Wyverns series, continuing The Warlocks series with book 2 and starting something new. There may just be a standalone thrown in there too. Whilst writing Tales from The Edge, I frequently found myself accidentally creating characters with the potential for stories of their own, so I may have to indulge in a few more short freebies when the urge takes me! In the meantime, the final book in the series sows the seed for a new set of stories I’ll also be starting this year. So the end really is a start.


Never let go of the one you love.

After recent traumatic events, Olly is finding it hard to get his head around what happened. While he tries to deal with a maelstrom of emotions, renovations at The Edge are in full flow, alongside preparations for tenth anniversary celebrations. Joe, his Dom, recognizes Olly’s delicate state of mind and does his best to reassure him. A trip to the New Forest with their friends, Aiden and Heath, helps the healing process.

Returning home, Olly and Aiden focus on preparations for the party. When Aiden is called away, Olly takes a walk to clear his head, keeping his eye on a brewing storm. To his horror, he discovers Mark Vickery, an old enemy, has landed on the island by boat and is out for revenge.

With Olly missing and the storm raging, Joe, Heath and Aiden set out on a rescue mission that unfolds in a way none of them expected. Can the storm wash away the past or will Olly and Joe’s future be destroyed by a twist of fate?


LM lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.

She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She's fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and some not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.

LM is winner of the National Leather Association’s Pauline Reage Award for best novel and the 2016 Golden Flogger Award for best BDSM novel in the LGBT category. She has received multiple Honorable Mentions in the Rainbow Awards and won the Action and Adventure category of Divine Magazine’s Book Awards in 2015. You can track her down online here: