Hello again Jorja, and thanks for inviting me over to your
blog today. It’s fabulous to be here.
I don’t know about everyone else, but for me 2014 seems to
be flying past. It's the 28th already, and once January’s out of the way, well,
it’s almost Easter really. Cue the daffodils, spring lambs and chocolate eggs.
So far this year I’ve been really busy. I have print
releases for both The Dark Side and Sure Mastery coming up soon, my two
series set in Yorkshire, UK, where I live. The final book in the set will go on
general release on 7 February.
In the future Totally Bound, my publisher is
intending to release books in print at the same time as the e-versions come
out, so some readers may prefer that. I know my mum will.
As the trilogies have developed, I’ve started to receive
some fabulous messages from readers who are following the saga of Nathan and Eva,
Tom and Ashley. From some it’s been feedback, saying they’re enjoying the
stories or commenting on particular story lines. That’s always good to know.
Sometimes a reader may have a question, maybe hasn’t understood something in my
colloquial UK verbage. Or they may want to know when the next book comes out,
or what to read first.
I always reply. And quick. I can’t speak for other authors,
naturally not, but I expect most of us feel the same way about reader feedback
– we love it, and we particularly love hearing from people who’ve enjoyed our
stories. Even if you have a quibble, I’d like to know about it. I’ve had some
fantastic conversations with readers, telling me snippets from their own lives
and how my books affect them. I love to know that stuff, it makes it all so
much more real for me.
It’s good business too. Readers keep authors in business,
their thoughts count.
Reviews are great. Good reviews are better than great. But
direct comments from readers top the lot for me so keep ’em coming.
Apart from the third book in the Sure Mastery series, Surefire which is on general release
from 7 February I also have a short story coming out on the same day. It’s part
of Totally Bound’s Paramour anthology which features older women and the
younger men who make them hot under the collar. My story, Re-Awakening, will be cuddled up with wonderful stories from three
more Totally Bound authors - Ayla Ruse, Elizabeth Coldwell and MK Schiller - so
it’s well worth a look.
Buy links: You
can get your hands on Surefire or Re-Awakening from Totally
Bound
Author Biog:
Until 2010 I was a director of a regeneration company in Leeds, in the UK,
before becoming convinced there must be more to life. I left to work as an
independent consultant, and still do some of that though most of my time is now
spent writing. At last I’ve been able to realise my dream of writing erotic
romance myself. I’ve been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and
other genres, and I still love reading historical and contemporary romances –
the hotter the better. But now I have a good excuse – research.
In my own writing I usually draw on settings and anecdotes
from my own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to my plots and
characters, but my stories of love, challenge, resilience and compassion are
the conjurings of my own lurid imagination.
When not writing – which is not very often - my time is
divided between my role as resident taxi driver for my teenage daughter, and
caring for a menagerie of dogs, rabbits, tortoises. And most recently a very grumpy
cockatiel. I’m a rural parish
councillor, and I’m passionate about evolving rural traditions and values to
suit twenty first century lifestyles.
I’ve just completed my third trilogy in the Black Combe
‘family’ and I’m well on with writing the fourth, as well as a novella, a short
story, and a stand-alone novel for Totally Bound’s ‘What’s Her secret?’
imprint. All are due for release over the next few months.
Excerpt:
Sure Mastery has been described by several readers as
emotional. More than one told me they actually cried while they were reading it
and I have to confess I shed a tear or two while I was writing the story.
Ashley’s story is one of loss and loneliness, and of domestic abuse and its
consequences. She wants to be Tom’s submissive, but can’t sort out in her head
how and why that would be different from the abuse she suffered in a previous
relationship.
In this scene, Tom is about to punish Ashley, but wants to
make sure she knows the difference between what he’s doing, and how she feels
about it, and everything that went before.
He
nods briefly. “Yes, Ashley. You should. You don’t have to agree, but you should
at least listen. I did listen to you
and found another way to deal with the problem. But you’re new to farm life,
and you’ve a lot to learn. It’ll come. That’s not why we’re here though.”
Isn’t it? I look up at him, surprised.
“We’re
here because you walked out on me.” He pauses, lets that sink in before he
elaborates further. “We argued, disagreed about something, and you pissed off.
Went back to ‘your home’ as you called it. This
is your home, Ashley, and I don’t want you to forget that again. And that’s why
I’m teaching you this lesson. Commitment means you don’t just bail out of our
relationship at the first sign of trouble. You stay, we work on it. We talk. I
wouldn’t have walked out on you, I won’t, whatever happens. I expect the same
commitment from you. Do I have it?”
I
stare at him, horrified. And deeply ashamed. It’s true. I did do exactly that.
I wanted my own way, so I just stopped listening to Tom, ignored his point of
view. Instead I leaped onto my quad and left him there on the moor. I deserve
the beating he’s about to administer. If I could, I’d do it myself.
I
step forward and lean across the hay bale, settling my upper body on the
blanket.
“I’m
ready.”
“Yes,
you are. Or very nearly. One last thing though, Ashley.” He leans on the bale
alongside me, his hip propped against the hay.
I
turn, peer at him over my shoulder. Maybe he intends to tie me up first.
Apparently
not. It seems he has more to say. “This is the second time I’ve punished you
when you’ve done something that pissed me off. The first time, that first day
when I came to your cottage, you hated it. Hated me probably.”
I
shake my head, start to deny it.
He
silences me with one raised finger. “Quiet please, and listen. Okay, so you may
not have hated me, but you hated being spanked, even if I did give you an
orgasm afterwards. And you were certainly terrified then, and in the days
after. You’re behaving very differently now. Why is that?”
I
gaze up at him, and I find I’m wondering the same thing. Why is this different? Before I can scrape
together any sort of response, he reaches out and lightly caresses my bottom.
The bottom he’s soon intending to thrash with his belt. I remain still, my toes
curling and my pussy moistening as he continues to massage my buttocks,
increasing the pressure until I’m squirming with arousal.
“I
know Kenny used to hit you, when he was angry. Maybe even when he wasn’t. Did
you lie still and allow him to stroke your bum first like this, or maybe finger
fuck you, like this?” His voice is soft, a sexy, sensual murmur as he leans
over me, his wonderful, talented fingers working smoothly to bring me to a
glittering orgasm.
I
gasp, and my head falls forward to rest on the blanket as he slides his fingers
between my legs and sinks three of them deep into my pussy. I spread my thighs
without him needing to ask, and he moves now to stand immediately behind me.
He’s laid the belt on top of the bale, and is using his free hand to reach
between my legs to rub my clit.
It
doesn’t take long. It never does when Tom decides I’m to come, and come fast.
He thrusts his fingers deep, angling to hit my sensitive G-spot, and lightly
squeezes my clit. He grips the throbbing nub between his index and middle
finger and flicks the tip with the pad of his thumb. It’s too much, and in
moments I’m moaning as my climax builds and erupts, all my nerve endings seemingly
connected to that little button under his thumb. I grasp the blanket, curling
my fingers in it as I rotate my hips, silently begging him to fuck me. He
doesn’t do that though, not yet. Instead he continues to slide his fingers in
and out of my pussy as I clench and spasm around him, squeezing hard to
generate more friction, more sensation.
“Greedy little slut. That’s enough for now I
think. More later. When you’ve learnt your lesson and I’m sure it’s sunk in.”
He withdraws his fingers, and I lie there, gasping. His tone has hardened, and
I know this interlude is over. On to the main event, the main reason we’re here
and I’m draped half naked across a bale of hay.
He
leans over me, his hands on either side of my shoulders, his face close to my
ear. “Is this different from Kenny?”
Christ, yes!
“How,
Ashley? How is it different?”
I
didn’t realise I spoke out loud, but I suppose I must have. And now he’s insisting
on an answer.
“How,
Ashley? Think, and tell me.”
“Because
it’s you. You won’t hurt me.”
“I
think you know I will.”
“No,
not really. And you’ll stop if I ask you to. If I say my safe word.”
“So,
you know it’s going to hurt. But you’ll still allow me to punish you. Is this
abuse then, Ashley, or something else?”
I’m
trying hard to concentrate, but in my post-orgasmic haze, it’s difficult to
think straight. One thing I am sure of though, there’s nothing in the least bit
abusive about Tom
Shore. He loves me, I
love him and this is how we resolve our differences. No sulking, no harsh words
or cruelty. We have rules, and he enforces those rules. Then it’s over, and
we’re even more closely connected than we were before.
“Ashley?
Do you feel I’m abusing you? Bullying you? I want you to say so if you do.”
I
shake my head vehemently, partly in denial and partly to clear my thinking. My
voice is a whisper, but that has nothing to do with fear now. This is a deeply
emotional moment, a pivotal point in our relationship. I know better than to
move before he tells me I can, but I’m yearning just to turn to face him and
sink my fingers into his hair as he sinks his cock into me. Nothing less will
do now, but first we have unfinished business.
“No,
I don’t feel that. I love you, and I know you love me. I deserve to be
punished. Please do it.”
He
straightens. “Happy to oblige, my sweet. I think twenty strokes would be about
right. Would you agree?”
I
nod contentedly and flex my fingers in the blanket. “Yes, twenty sounds
perfect.”
