Friday, January 27, 2017

Guest Post - 1/27/17 - Reaper's Kiss by Allison West #Paranormal #EroticRomance #BDSM

Today, I've got Allison West on the couch and she's here to discuss her erotic paranormal romance "Reaper's Kiss."


            “I don’t like it.” What was there to like? Larkin, the gentleman she’d been sneaking out to visit had an appointment with death. He felt bad for the guy, especially given the fact the girl he liked was recently murdered, but what could he do?
            “You’re not supposed to,” Wynter said and sighed. “Maybe you should stay here for today.”
            “The hell I am!” Leila stood up. Her hands in fists. “I’m not going to sit by and idly watch as you reap the man I love! Not a chance in hell!”

Heir to the throne of Casmerelda, Princess Ophelia has a knack for disobeying the rules. When she sneaks out in secret to visit her boyfriend, her life takes an unexpected twist. She is murdered by an unknown assailant outside the Blue Moon Tavern and is tasked with being a grim reaper. Is it punishment for her naughty night outings or the Dacre curse?
Wynter Gael has no choice but to reap the soul of Ophelia Dacre and bring her into the world of the undead. Responsible for reaping souls and fixing her mistakes, he must decide if putting her over his knee is worth it or if she should be sent to the royal council for further disciplinary action.
Reaper’s Kiss is a paranormal erotic novel with elements of spankings, anal play, graphic sex, and mild violence.

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About the Author:

Allison West is a #1 International Best-Selling Author in Erotica, BDSM, Romantic Erotica, Sci-Fi, Victorian, and Historical Erotica. She also writes young adult novels under the name Ruth Silver.

Allison West has been inventing worlds and writing stories for years. Her favorite novels are those that leave a lasting impression, long after the final page is read. You can find more about Allison on Facebook and Twitter.

Visit her website here:
Don’t miss these exciting titles by Allison West and Blushing Books!

Monday, January 23, 2017

Unexpected Role Reversal between Dominant and Submissive #criticalcare #D/s #Coping

One of the most emotionally complex and difficult things a person can experience is taking care of an ill or elderly spouse or parent. When my husband became critically ill, my world turned upside down. I'm a fairly strong person, but there were times when I feared ever getting him back, and I'll admit I lost hope.

As I searched through the Internet looking up conditions and treatments, I discovered that having my normally dominant husband growing totally dependent on others for his health and welfare was similar to caring for an elderly parent. The difference being that my husband always held the potential to get well again while an elderly parent cannot grow younger.

The shock of having him laughing and joking with me one minute, then sedated, unconscious and on life support the next was almost my undoing. Since I was told he could still hear me, though he most likely wouldn't remember anything because the sedation they had him on also affected memory, I would sit beside him and carry on conversations. I liked to be with him whenever they did what they called a "sedation vacation" where they took him off sedation to see if he could follow simple instructions like opening his hands, grasping fingers and wiggling his toes. In the beginning, these commands appeared to be fairly easy for him to carry out, but the longer he remained sedated and on the ventilator the more difficult it became for him to respond.

I had great difficulty accepting the changes occurring in him. He was the stronger one and he took care of me, now it was my responsibility to take care of him. To make sure his needs were being met both medically and therapeutically.

Since he was unconscious the first few weeks of his hospitalization, I was attempting to keep my head up while I frantically tread in uncharted waters. I took things one day at a time, celebrating every small victory, and trying not to lose hope when his progress appeared to be taking a backward turn. The most difficult day for me was when we first attempted to take him off the ventilator. I expected him to be groggy and a little out of it, but still pretty much himself. He sat with his mouth open and tongue hanging down to one side as he struggled for every breath he took. I watched as his oxygen levels slowly sank into the 70s while his CO2 levels rose into the 90s. His eyes were so vacant and glazed, I doubt he even recognized me. He would only breathe through his mouth, but by the time they attempted to put a BiPap mask on him, his stats indicated he had to go back on the ventilator and quickly. I cried then. Not because he had to be ventilated again, but because even though his body was right before me, nobody was home and I was afraid he was forever lost to me.

After another week on the ventilator, I agreed to having them perform a tracheotomy, He could still be on the ventilator with a trach, but they could take him off sedation, which would allow him to interact more with his caretakers. I was told the stoma and trach didn't need to be permanent, but given his last reaction to being taken off ventilation, I suspected he would require assistance, at least at night, for the rest of his life. However, he'd never get stronger while he remained unconscious and there was a chance he'd eventually improve if he could move around, and engage more with his surroundings.

The nurses and speech therapist talked to me then about ICU delirium, which when you read about it can be pretty terrifying. As I look back now, I'm pretty sure he suffered from it along with his other problems. His apparent cognitive impairment once he was off sedation was severe. In some ways he reverted to the mentality of a two-year-old. His behavior was impulsive and he liked touching different textures (blankets, sheets, whatever he could reach). He could follow simple commands (grip hands, move legs), but had great difficulty making any sort of assessment (cold, warm, discomfort, etc.). He lost track of time and where he was, even whether it was day or night despite the large window in his room. He couldn't maintain focus for longer than a few seconds. Even when he could do these things, and appeared to be able to hold a conversation, he wasn't fully comprehending what he was saying. He was making what he believed to be an appropriate response without really understanding.

None of this surprised me after their first attempt at extubating him, and as he steadily improved, I praised his small successes. What I didn't expect was the total personality change that overcame him. The nurses claimed he was sundowning, but the differences in him appeared much worse than that. He would physically resist his caretakers and even attempted to bite a couple of nurses when they reached out to secure his nasogastric tube. He eventually yanked out the feeding tube himself despite receiving many instructions to leave it alone. He'd both challenge and insult the doctors as he grew more and more paranoid, telling me that everyone in the hospital wanted to keep him sick in order to get more money. He was convinced they were secretly trying to hurt him. I knew his fears weren't rational, but I acknowledged them as I did my best to assure him that everyone caring for him was there to help. I even had the nurse call up hospital security in attempt to assure him there were people he could call on if he was in trouble and they would protect him. He appeared to accept what was he was told, but I knew he wasn't convinced. Everyone, except me, was in collusion to steal his hard-earned money.

In his efforts to leave the hospital, he yanked out four trachs in a period of two days. By Sunday, Respiratory had no more of his size in their stock, and the stock room was closed. So, if he pulled out his current trach, we would have a medical emergency. To be sure he couldn't, they kept him in soft restraints when I wasn't there.

Another thing I didn't expect was his anger with me. But since he has no recollection of how difficult he was being, his behavior was clearly part of the delirium he was suffering. I tried to give him options and choices. In the beginning nothing interested him, but as he slowly became more aware of his surroundings he showed a modicum of interest by selecting the television programs he normally watched. However, he still had difficulty ascertaining night from day, and would insist there should be a football game on Thursday morning. When he couldn't find it after switching through all the channels, he became convinced the hospital was censoring his television. Eventually, this too passed as his comprehension and awareness grew. But with this success came another backward spiral when he refused to work with his therapists, resisting their instructions and insisting they should just let him leave the hospital. He grew convinced he was just fine when in reality he couldn't even sit up by himself. However, he did want to use the bathroom rather than a bedpan. I told him if he ever wanted to use the bathroom again he needed to at least try to do as his therapists asked. So, he grudgingly participated in the beginning, but as he physically improved, so did his attitude until he finally took an active part in his therapy.

Even the therapists were amazed by his daily improvements. However, in addition to the problems I faced with his recovery, I was battling our insurance company. They kept refusing to send him places that were equipped to deal with the different stages of his recovery, so the ICU became his acute therapy unit. Everyone in contact with him worked to get him up and moving. Eventually, he was taken off the ventilator and equipped with a speaking valve on his trach, and finally off the trach itself until all he had was an oxygen cannula for support. At that point he no longer needed to be in the ICU and was moved to a regular room in the hospital. However, he stayed in the ICU for 34 days and was in the hospital for a combined total of 38 days before they moved him to a skilled nursing rehabilitation facility where he spent his birthday, Christmas and New Years. The holidays interfered with his therapy, so when the therapists weren't available to work with him, I convinced him to get up and walk the hallway at the very least while I followed him with his oxygen canister. He continued to improve both physically and mentally so quickly, he was released from the facility after only 16 days and no longer required oxygen support.

Though we still have no definitive answer as to what caused his problems, I've got him home now. He still has difficulty with his balance and walking, but he doesn't require a walker in the house. Though he's no longer on oxygen, I purchased an oximeter and we measure his oxygen at least twice a day. It's usually around 98, which is where he was before all this happened. We now have a nurse as well as three therapists who visit him a couple of times a week. He is beginning to take control of his life again. We even went grocery shopping together, and he rode one of the electric carts while I followed and collected the things he couldn't reach.

He is back to working at his computer, and is getting stronger every day, although his voice is still a little rough from his multiple intubations. All in all, I'd say he was a success story. I bought him a fitness bracelet and we are monitoring his sodium intake as well as his weight to make sure the swelling in his legs continues to go down. Thanks to all who sent me well-wishes. I hope to get back to writing and social media in a few weeks. Right now, he continues to be my priority.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Guest Post - 1/21/17 - The Warrior in Me by Anita Philmar - #Erotic #Murder #Mystery

The Warrior in Me has romance, suspense, eroticism and murder. What more could you ask for?


            Seconds before his mouth covered hers, she whispered, “Sebastian, I don’t—” The rest of the sentence died under the quick spear of his tongue, seeking entrance into the hot moist haven of her mouth.
            The fight he expected didn’t fully materialize. She gasped in shock, and her body stiffened. Then she lifted her hands to his shoulders, leaving the few inches between them vacant.
            Tightening his grip, he drew the soft cushion of her breasts invitingly against his chest. All too quickly, he moved past the point of a simple kiss and fed on her unique flavor. He’d gone too long without the seductive touch of a woman. Today, she’d tempted him with the fire of her anger and the gentle concern for him at the loss of his friend. Holding himself in check, he’d resisted until she’d revealed her passion for her research. Now, he couldn’t contain his enthusiasm for her any longer. He ate at her lips, nipping and sucking until they opened wider.
            Lily moaned, and he captured the sound, swallowing it as he flicked his tongue against the roof of her mouth. She welcomed him by drawing him deeper. He thrust in and out, over and over mimicking the ancient rhythm of sex.
            Determined to sample every inch of the hot, moist cavity, he drank in the rich, sweet nectar. As stimulating as wine, he became drunk on her and tangled his tongue around hers. Time lost meaning. He forgot everything except her hands in his hair, her body plastered against his, the relentless need to consume her.
            Somewhere in his subconscious, something reminded him that women didn’t progress from “Hello, it nice to meet you” to “Do you want to go to bed with me” this quickly. On the other hand, maybe, the light tingling of his scalp as she curled her fingers in his hair helped jog his memory. He had to take things a little slower if he wanted to win the girl.


Special Security Agent Sebastian Berlin is eager to track down his partner's killer. Instead, he’s assigned the job of baby-sitting a scientist. His boss thinks she's the key to an Ancient Warrior Prophecy. Science never interested Sebastian, but the know-it-all female standing at the end of his Alaskan dock could persuade him to do a little experimenting. That is, if he can keep his Neanderthal Warrior genes from taking control.

DNA specialist Lily Sinclair is in need of a vacation, or so her over-protective ex-husband tells her. Arriving in chilly Alaska instead of sunny Cancun, she's tired and cranky and so not in the mood for her bodyguard's he-man tactics. Still, there's something about the sexy eye-candy that makes her want to lick him all over even as she's demanding to go home.

Then Lily's ex is poisoned, and Sebastian is certain the two murders are connected and she could be next. She knows he's hiding something, but with the worldwide release of Neanderthal DNA project only days away, she has no choice but to trust him to protect her. But can she trust him with her heart?

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About the Author:

Anita Philmar likes to create stories that push the limit. A writer by day and a dreamer by night she wants her readers to see the world in a new way.

Influenced by old movies, she likes to develop places where anything can happen and where special 
moments come to life in a great read.

Naughty or Nice?

Read her books and decide.


Saturday, January 14, 2017

Guest Post - 1/14/17 - The Laird and the Sassenach by Ashe Barker #Scottishromance #Historical #Erotic

She faces justice, truth, and a Laird’s vengeance

From Ashe Barker: The Laird and the Sassenach is a story of a man with justice to mete out, and a dilemma to face. Sometimes the truth seems to stare us in the face, at other times it may be not so clear where the blame lies. In the middle ages, of course, matters of crime and punishment, guilt or innocence were simple enough. The social hierarchies of the time placed authority and power in few hands and there were no qualifications required which entitled the privileged to rule. They were just handed the job and the common folk had to hope their leaders would turn out to be wise and fair. Sometimes they got lucky, and The Laird and the Sassenach is a story of one such instance.
I love to write historical stories. I am especially drawn to Highland fantasies, and why not? Who can resist the soaring Scottish scenery and sexy men in kilts. I find myself fascinated by that heady cocktail of honour and lawlessness, the atmospheric sensuality of the time and the way an all-powerful laird will reveal his soft centre just when it matters. But the Sassenach in the story also has her little quirks and faces some unique challenges. And look out for an unlikely star of the show. Freya the wolfhound has her part to play and I absolutely adored her.
I hope readers enjoy The Laird and the Sassenach as much as I loved writing it


“I shall have to trouble you to remove your gown, Roselyn. And your shift. I require you naked to the waist.”
Her eyes darkened to a shade close to violet. “I cannot. You cannot ask that of me.”
“I am not asking. It is not a request, it is a command. You will remove your clothing, or I shall summon a couple of my guards and they will remove it for you.” He stood and reached for her thin shoulder. Apart from offering her his arm to lead her into the solar this was the first time he had touched her and he was oddly pleased that despite her predicament and obvious fear she did not shrink away from him. He squeezed gently. “I do not intend to harm you, Roselyn, and this will be easier for you if just the two of us are present. If you require assistance I shall be pleased to aid you.”
She turned her face in his direction. “You really believe there might still be bruises.”
“It is possible, aye. Shall we find out?” He deliberately gentled his tone, sensing that she was willing to do even this if it would help to bolster her case.
There was a brief pause. She chewed on her lower lip and twisted her fingers nervously. Moments passed, then she raised her face to grant him a tremulous smile. “Very well, my lord. Thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“For your offer of aid. I believe I shall require it for my hands are shaking.”
Fuck. He took no pleasure in that knowledge, though why he should care was beyond him. Blair turned her to face him and with a few deft movements untied the laces which held her kirtle closed at the neck. The garment was simple enough, and practical. He was glad of that as he separated the two halves and slid it off her shoulders and down her arms. Beneath she wore just a woollen leine, loose enough not to require any fastenings. The lower portion disappeared into the skirts of her kirtle, still held at the waist by her belt made of plaited leather. Blair loosened the belt to free the fabric beneath, then pulled the leine up out of the confines of her outer clothing. Despite her acquiescence Roselyn made a grab for the garment as he started to lift it higher.
Blair paused. “Roselyn?”
She released her grip on the soft wool and raised her arms obediently in order to allow him to draw it over her head. She was naked beneath.
She was his enemy, but that was no reason not to speak his mind. Blair made no pretence of not observing what was displayed before him.
“You are quite lovely, Lady Roselyn.”
She gulped and laid her hands over the plump mounds. “Please…” she whispered.
He leaned in to murmur in her ear. “Do not be afraid. I mean you no harm here. I will touch you now, and if I hurt you, you must say so. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Her lovely eyes were closed and she continued to worry her lower lip between her small white teeth. Despite his reassurances she was plainly terrified. The view was delightful but even so he opted to conclude their business as quickly as he might.
“Turn to the right, if you please, to better catch the light from the window.” Not that he particularly required the benefit of improved illumination; the yellows and faint purplish smudges on her skin were plain to see. Blair was familiar with injuries acquired in battle and in training. He had sustained enough himself and had no difficulty in recognising the remnants of a severe battering. Both sides of her slender torso were similarly marked from just below her arms almost to her waist. He could not accurately date the original attack, but saw no cause to dispute her account of it.
He stroked the contours of her ribs on her left side, careful to exert no pressure. Even so, she winced. “Does it still pain ye, lass?”
“Your hands are cold, my lord.”
Blair chuckled. “Ah, I apologise.” He stepped around to better examine the right side also. This time when he laid his fingers on her she remained still.
“Are there bruises, my lord?”
“Aye, there are.”
“Then this will prove my account? You believe me?”
“It helps, without doubt. ‘Tis a pity we have no witness to support your story, though I daresay I could dispatch men to Kelso to question the Reverend Mother.”
“You would do that?”
He was surprised to realise that he would. Indeed he would, for he found he badly wanted to prove the mitigating circumstances which might help excuse Lady Roselyn’s actions. He was not a fool, Blair knew his people well. He would have to present convincing evidence of coercion in order to satisfy the members of Clan McGregor who would demand retribution for the deaths of their kinsfolk. As matters stood they would expect him to hang the English wench and would consider that a merciful end. It might yet come to that, but despite his earlier intentions he now found he had no real stomach for heaping his vengeance upon this fragile wench.


After her half-brother attacks the kinsmen of Blair McGregor, Lady Roselyn of Etal is brought before the stern highland laird to answer for her reluctant, unwitting role in the crime. Once she has told her story, she throws herself at his mercy.

Blair soon realizes that Roselyn is as much a victim of her half-brother as anyone, but his people’s demands for justice cannot be ignored entirely, so he strips the young Englishwoman bare and chastises her firmly with a switch applied to her naked backside.

The painful, humiliating punishment both assuages Roselyn’s guilt and leaves her yearning to be even more thoroughly mastered by the handsome laird. Though Blair makes it clear that she is free to return home, she instead chooses to remain with the him in his castle… and in his bed. Their passion soon blossoms into romance, but can the highlander protect his beautiful Sassenach when the villain who caused them both so much pain tries to tear her away from him?

Publisher’s Note: The Laird and the Sassenach includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

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About the Author:

USA Today best-selling author Ashe Barker has been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres. She still loves reading, the hotter the better. But now she has a good excuse for her guilty pleasure – research.
Ashe tends to draw on her own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to her plots and characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event or quirky character, any of these can spark a story idea.
Ashe lives in the North of England, on the edge of the Brontë moors and enjoys the occasional flirtation with pole dancing and drinking Earl Grey tea. When not writing – which is not very often these days - her time is divided between her role as taxi driver for her teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, tortoises.  And a very grumpy cockatiel. 
At the last count Ashe had over forty titles on general release with publishers on both sides of the Atlantic, and several more in the pipeline. She writes M/f, M/M, and occasionally rings the changes with a little M/M/f. Ashe’s books invariably feature BDSM. She writes explicit stories, always hot, but offering far more than just sizzling sex. Ashe likes to read about complex characters, and to lose herself in compelling plots, so that’s what she writes too.
Ashe has a pile of story ideas still to work through, and keeps thinking of new ones at the most unlikely moments, so you can expect to see a lot more from her.
Ashe loves to hear from readers. Here are her social media links:

Or you can email her direct on