Always Cambridge

Always Cambridge
Follow the saga from the beginning... Always Cambridge

Tuesday, 30 August 2016

New from Sarah Marsh @SM_fiction Dark Redemption [Broken Souls #1]

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NEW RELEASE! 
Sarah Marsh – DARK REDEMPTION!
Available now!

Cover


Blurb

Sofia Boon was ready to make changes in her life, but she didn’t see this coming

Taking a chance, she finds the nerve to ask out her handsome neighbor, but when he doesn’t show up for their date, Sofia knocks on his door and meets a man claiming to be his roommate, and she soon realizes she’s made a horrible mistake.
Eitan Kent is a tortured man, haunted by a death he was unable to prevent
Eitan believes he is unworthy of being loved. He buries himself in his work and takes a job to track down a wanted criminal, Ben Donovan. He locates Donovan’s apartment, but finds it empty—until Donovan’s “date” shows up.
Eitan doesn’t know what to make of sweet, curvy Sofia, but she’s the only lead he has

Feeling he has no choice, Eitan decides to take her with him to see if she can somehow lead him to Donovan before it’s too late—or if her innocence is all an act and she’s involved in the bastard’s crimes.

Sofia is terrified and tries to explain to the dark stranger that she barely knows her neighbor and has no idea how to track him down, but Eitan knows exactly how to get the truth from her. Who knew a little torture could be so sweet?

Tag: “Who says it’s always the damsel who needs to be rescued?”

Purchase Links
Amazon US
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#Amazon #KU #KindleUnlimited #Paperback #eBook

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EXCERPT

That rat bastard! She thought as she watched him stroll out of the room just as though nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just gotten her so turned on that she thought she’d spontaneously combust and then just…left.

Sofia didn’t think about what she would have done if he’d tried to have sex with her. That would just ruin the fury she was currently riding. She should be relieved he hadn’t tried to force her. She should have been, logically speaking, but she had to admit to herself her overheated body was ready to beg for release and that her traitorous hormones were killing the rational part of her brain. Sofia knew it was crazy, but all she could think about right now was that the most satisfying way to get some relief was under her sexy captor. It was an issue that only got worse as he walked back into the room with a tray of food and all that beautiful, tanned bare skin.

“Here, let me help you sit up so you can eat,” he said, putting the tray down on the nightstand and moving closer, “Or would you rather wash up and use the bathroom first?”

“Bathroom first, please,” she said immediately, thinking she could follow his lead and get some satisfaction while cleaning up.

But clearly her eagerness must have given her away because he raised one eyebrow in challenge.

“Okay, but you have ten minutes to shower, and you are not allowed to touch yourself other than to get clean―am I understood?” he said in a firm tone as he leaned forward and undid her wrists.

“You’re going to watch me?” she asked, not quite certain if she was offended or turned on at the prospect. She wondered for a second why his firm tone seemed to excite her more than it should have.

“Do you want me to watch you?” he whispered low next to her ear, causing awareness to spread through her entire body.

Sofia was a little breathless at the thought of putting on the same show for him as he did for her, but in the end, her pride won out over the wanton need she felt inside.

“No,” she barely answered, and it sounded weak even to her ears.
His deep chuckle at her answer made her nipples peak even more, and she was almost disappointed when he leaned back and pushed the timer on his watch.

“You’ve got ten minutes, Sofia. Then I come in and get you.”

Sofia had never used the washroom and showered so fast in all her life, she got done with barely a minute to spare as she put her bra and underwear back on and then wrapped herself in a big fluffy towel before she walked back out into the room.

“You can keep the towel until you’ve eaten, then it’s off,” he said once he saw her.

She’d take that small win, and she took her sweet ass time eating as well until he finally took the tray away after she’d spent five minutes chewing a single piece of melon.

“Now are you going to make this difficult on both of us or are you going to behave?” he said as he motioned toward the wrist cuffs once again.
She thought about it, but there was nothing she could do against his superior strength, so she begrudgingly laid back against the padded headboard and raised her wrists.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly. “I told you everything I know already.”

“Well, I’ll see about that soon enough, won’t I?” was all he said in reply as he fastened the cuffs and picked up the tray before he left the room.

****

By the time Eitan had gotten the kitchen cleaned up from breakfast and returned to the bedroom, he was already half hard from replaying how she’d looked watching him come in the shower. He thought about putting on a pair of jeans, but why bother? He certainly wasn’t ashamed for her to see how she affected him and she sure as hell didn’t seem to be put off by his body, so he may as well use that to his advantage, right?

“Ready for the ankle cuffs?” he asked as he entered the room.
 
He saw her swallow hard and move her legs tighter together.

“Why do you have to?” she asked with a worried look. “Are you going to touch me?”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” he challenged, already knowing her body didn’t have any arguments.

“Of course I don’t want you to touch me!” she answered, clearly trying to sound offended that he’d suggest such a thing, “I don’t even know your name!”

“Well, that’s easy enough to remedy,” he said as he placed one knee on the bed and pulled up the first ankle cuff. “My name is Eitan. Now give me your leg, Sofia.”

He could tell she was surprised he’d given her his name, and to be truthful, he was a bit surprised by that himself. But the more he thought about his name on her lips as she moaned her pleasure, the harder his cock got. He was doing all sorts of things with this little captive that seemed to be breaking his rules, and Eitan wasn’t sure he really cared.

When she tentatively placed her little foot in his hand, he quickly attached the cuff and then slowly ran his fingers over the softness of her skin. Clearly she waxed her legs as the skin was still supple and hair free. That thought made him more aware of the noticeably smooth skin under those pretty purple panties, and his mouth watered as he imagined how soft it would feel under his tongue. As he fastened the second cuff and her legs moved further apart, it was all he could do not to crawl up her body and relieve her of those panties just as he’d fantasized about doing in the shower this morning. It was then that he finally had to admit to himself that this interrogation was probably going to be more difficult for him than it was going to be for her…because his self-control was already bucking to be let loose.

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Author Bio

Sarah Marsh was born in British Columbia where she still lives, she has only recently began her writing career finding it the perfect outlet for taking the edge off a nine to five office job. She’s been a science fiction and romance junkie for years and when her imagination started to take the characters she’d read about even further in their adventures she decided to try writing something of her own.

Sarah’s also a former pastry chef and spends a lot of time cooking and baking for friends and family as well as painting and knitting. Her biggest weaknesses are animals of any kind…she even loves the ones that wake you up at four in the morning because they can almost see the bottom of their food dish.

When it comes to life in general she’s a big believer that laughter is the best medicine and that there’s no such thing as too much love, which is why she’s such a sucker for a happy ending.

Social Media and Author page links

Monday, 29 August 2016

Cover Reveal + PreOrder - The Prince's Boy Collection by @ceciliatan

The Prince's Boy: Collection
by Cecilia Tan
$9.99 ebook bundle
ISBN 978-1-61390-015-4


Dark erotic magic ensnares a prince and his whipping boy in a world of castle intrigue. THE PRINCE'S BOY tells the story of Kenet, prince of Maldevar, and his whipping boy Jorin, as they fight to save their country—and their love—from evil.

The much-lauded tale of men, lust, and dark magic, now collected into one complete tale! Includes the full text of volumes one and two and two bonus stories.


  • Honorable mention in the Rainbow Awards (for gay fantasy fiction)


  • Honorable mention in the NLA Writing Awards (for BDSM-positive fiction)

  • In a fantasy world where the lust of male for male fuels Night Magic, Prince Kenet lives a sheltered life. Isolated from the war that threatens the kingdom, he and his whipping boy Jorin are of age, but still sneak forbidden pleasures in their bed at night. When a dark mage tries to bespell Kenet into sexual submission, the prince and his boy are thrust into the world of intrigue, sex, and war.

    Drawing on complex themes of dominance and submission, the need for secrecy in a world where homosexuality is not accepted, and the intertwining of sex with magic, Tan weaves a complex, sex-filled adventure that is part "Three Musketeers" and part "Claiming of Sleeping Beauty."


    Cecilia Tan is “simply one of the most important writers, editors, and innovators in contemporary American erotic literature,” according to Susie Bright. She is the author of many novels and short stories, editor of dozens of erotic short story anthologies, and the founder of Circlet Press. She was inducted into the Saints and Sinners Hall of Fame for GLBT writers in 2010.

    Praise for THE PRINCE'S BOY:

    "Brilliant from start to finish, but whew! What a marathon! You'd better train up for this one, or be prepared to read it in small bite sized pieces (if you can put it down, and yes, it is that good). It is not for the faint of heart. There is graphic torture, rape, slavery, every form of questionable behavior one could think of. And with all that? A story not to be missed. By turns gritty and lyrical. It is the chiming of tiny crystal hand bells and the inescapable, thundering peal of the bells of Notre Dame. A powerhouse, a tour de force. Not to be missed. But buckle up baby. It's one hell of a ride." —Elisa Rolle, The Rainbow Awards

    "The story is a good one, the characters are well developed. I went looking for the next installment more for the story than the sex, though I will also say that there are areas that the sex carries the story." —BDSM Book Reviews

    His Dark Canvas - Blitz + #giveaway @alexandreaweis #darkerotic #PNR @agarcia6510


    Title: His Dark Canvas
    Author: Alexandrea Weis
    Genre: Dark Erotic Paranormal Romance
    Hosted by: Lady Amber's PR


    Blurb
     
    Ella Winston is a talented chef with a problem--the slightest touch can reveal anyone’s darkest secrets. 

    Hired to cook for the artist, Ren Plancharde, she struggles to keep her ability under wraps. 

    After accidently uncovering Ren’s underground activities, the eccentric painter offers Ella a glimpse into his world of pleasure and pain. Intrigued, he decides to make Ella a part of his sinister Corde Noire Society, but his chef isn’t quite ready to commit. 

    Absolute submission isn’t all Ren wants from the stubborn woman. He has big plans for her gift, too. The only question is … will Ella be willing to give in to his desires when the time comes?

    The darkness within can hide a lifetime of secrets.



     
    From New Orleans, Alexandrea Weis was raised in the motion picture industry and began writing stories at the age of eight. In college she studied nursing and went on to teach at a local university. After several years in the medical field, she decided to pick up the pen once again and began her first novel, To My Senses. Since that time she has published many novels. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her award-winning books, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story memorable.

    Alexandrea Weis is also a certified/permitted wildlife rehabber with the La. Wildlife and Fisheries. When she is not writing, she rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She is married; they live in New Orleans.





    Through the haze of her apple martinis, Ella spotted someone across the wide dining room. He was different from the other patrons there to celebrate the restaurant’s two-year anniversary. With an arrogant walk, he strutted across the stone floor. Lean, muscular, and blessed with one of those bodies women would always notice, he had dark blond hair and disquieting dark green eyes. He was the kind of guy who knew he was good-looking and let everyone else know it, too. She wasn’t usually attracted to that type, but this man—his confidence intrigued her.

    “You’re Ella, Ella Winston,” he said in a voice like dark chocolate fondue: deep, and wickedly sexy. 

    “Yeah.” She almost dropped her drink. “I’m the sous chef.”

    “I know. Marcus told me.”

    As his smile sank to the depths of her belly, he extended his hand, but Ella ignored it.

    Don’t touch him. You know what happens when you touch them. 

    “So, how do you know Marcus?” Ella quickly asked, hoping to make up for her rudeness.

    He laughed, looking her over. Above the din in the room, she could sense something different about his laugh. Unlike the insincere chortle of others, this man’s laugh got to her. 
    She was having an unusual physical reaction, something that never happened to her. When most men laughed, Ella usually ran away.

    “Marcus and I share the same friends.”

    “What friends are those?” she asked, craving another martini.

    “The wealthy kind, who like to support the arts.” He raised a green bottle of sparkling water in his hand. “I’m a painter. Marcus and I know a lot of people who like to pretend they’re patrons and keep us gainfully employed.”

    “Painter?” Ella shrugged, finding it hard to believe Marcus knew any painters. “What do you paint?”

    “Portraits of women. Usually with very little clothing.”

    Oh yeah, I need another drink. “Is that lucrative?”

    “For me it is.”

    Her eyes wandered around the dining room, desperate to find a rescue. Ella needed to get away from this man before she said or did something really stupid.

    “Do you like art?” he pressed.

    “Some art. I think it would depend on the passion I see in a painting.”

    “The passion in a painting?” That laugh again. Her toes tingled. Not good. “You sound like a painter, Ms. Winston.”

    The martini glass in her hand suddenly weighed a ton. “Isn’t painting a passion for an artist, like cooking is a passion for a chef? Having a passion is a healthy thing. It reminds us that we have a soul.”

        He nodded, seemingly approving of her drunken ramblings. “That’s very profound and also very true. I think you have a lot of talents yet to be discovered, Ella. May I call you Ella?”

    “Ah, sure. Ella is fine.” Her mouth went dry. “What makes you think I have any talents outside of cooking?”

    “I have a sense for these things.”

    She tensed. Can he tell? The same thought always haunted her when she met new people. Ella fought so hard to keep her secret under control. Time to make a run for it.

    “Don’t let Marcus know I have other talents. He’ll probably fire me.”

    She was about to depart when he stopped her. He leaned in, and she could just make out the small cleft in his pointy chin. “I promise, if you ever need a job, I’ll hire you.”

    His mouth was so close she could have kissed his perfect, thin lips. Frightened by the notion, Ella backed away. “I’ll hold you to that.”

    “I hope you do, Ella.”

    She should have done a million different things: asked his name, gotten his phone number, or stayed to flirt with him some more. Instead, Ella walked away. She figured it was one of those moments in life she would live to regret. Fortunately, Ella found the bar and drowned her disappointment in another apple martini. 

    Ella reasoned that was the way of it. You meet people and move on, and one day, if you’re lucky, you meet the interesting ones again.



    #MasturbationMonday 2nd Anniversary Edition - Rules are rules #flashfic



    Wishing Kayla, all the M-M authors, bloggers and contributors, and especially the loyal Masturbation Monday readers, a Happy Two Year Anniversary.

    Flash Fiction 

    I writhe in anticipation waiting for him to ejaculate, spray his come all over my face and breasts. I crave a piece of him in any way I can get it.
     


    From my vantage point I can see that he's close. His shaft is rock hard, the skin so taught it's shiny. Veins pulsing. The head has taken on that purplish hue. It all but throbs every time he pumps his cock on the upward pull. He's not jerking. There's no sense of urgency. But I know, he's using every ounce of willpower he owns to go slow. Draw it out, for both of us.

    It's driving me crazy. My mouth waters. My heart pounds. And my pussy, oh God, my pussy hurts. My bum feels wet against the tabletop, all my juices gathering there.

    I tug at the bindings around my wrists, but know it's futile. He'd never allow that.

    I want to touch him. I want to be the one who brings him to climax, wrap my hands around that thick beautiful cock. Or better yet have him slip his dick into my mouth and rock in and out with that same slow rhythm he is still torturing us both with.

    I open my mouth, silently offering, begging him with my eyes.

    He doesn't even acknowledge. Doesn't smirk arrogantly or shake his head. His tempo never falters. I may as well not even be there.

    The muscles in his neck chord. The pulse at the base of his neck throbs rapidly. The tension building in him radiates through his entire rigid frame.

    A drop of pre-cum drips from his slit and falls as if in slow motion to the floor.

    "Oh God, yes, come, come, fucking come all over me!"

    He freezes. Then drops his hands to his sides.

    I want to bite through my traitorous tongue. I hadn't realized I'd even spoken aloud.

    No! No. No. Please!

    Once more I twist at my bindings but this time in frustration and disappointment. I bash my fists off the table and bite my tongue so I won't make another sound. Though I'm on the verge of tears.

    With a grimace—the only glimmer of emotion he's shown since we entered the room— he attempts to tuck his distended cock back into his pants but it's a lost cause. He's too long, too hard. He pulls his shirt over instead, depriving me once again. 

    Please! The word is forming on my lips. But he gives my chin a slight swat, closing my jaw, gnashing my teeth together. He knows me too well.

    He does an about-face and walks to the door. He turns out the light. Closes the door and leaves me.

    Darkness envelopes me. My own rapid inhalations are the only remaining sound in the room. It pisses me off.

    Unrequited need pulses at my core. My breasts tingle. I want to come so badly. I squirm. I press my tailbone into the table. I try to close my thighs—as much as I possibly can, with my ankles still tethered—and arch my back hoping beyond hope that just the right contour of my body will add some much needed pressure to just the right spot and it'll be enough to topple me over that narrow edge. I try imagining him licking my greedy cunt. Or him ramming into me savagely, over and over. But nothing helps.

    I cry out in agony, disappointment and anger at my own weakness. I don't care if he hears.

    I let my futile tears fall.

    In timeChrist knows how much timemy body calms but the ache in my outer labia remains, as a bitter reminder. I'd endure it for hours if not days, depending on his whim.

    I knew the rules coming in. Perhaps next time, I'd have the discipline to obey them and in return reap the spoils.


    A big THANK YOU to the fabulous Kayla Lords and all she does to keep Masturbation Monday going strong. I especially enjoyed the month of may this year. How about you? And I can't say enough about the inspirational memes. Sometimes, I just sit and watch for a few. Come on, I know you do it too.
    Happy Anniversary! 

    Make sure to hop on over the Masturbation Monday central for 
    this week's master list of M-M participants.

    Saturday, 27 August 2016

    Week 156 #MySexySaturday There's no denying he's one Sexy Beast

    Welcome to the 156th week of My Sexy Saturday.

    This week’s theme: My Sexy Beast

    Readers, please visit us at our new Author Central where we’ll be sharing even more from our authors besides Saturday’s snippets. We’d love to have each and every one of you there as we’re starting new things this month with fun and prizes along the way.

    This week’s theme is My Sexy Beast and is our nod to all you shapeshifters out there. 

    This is from a PNR erotic historical time-travel story, I might someday revamp and re-release. Hualryn is not quite a shifter. At this point, we're still not sure who or what he is. But there's no denying he's one sexy beast.

    Nevaeh stretched languidly, her body still throbbing and alive from their lovemaking. 

    “Hualryn, come back ta bed, my love, I’m not finished with ya yet.” 

    A grunt was his only response. 

    Sitting up, she looked toward the gallery. Her striking naked warrior stood looking out. His massive muscular legs splayed. His tight, toned backside clenched. The defined muscles in his back played in his restlessness. For once, his long dark hair hung loose over his enormous shoulders. 

    Just observing him made her blood rush. 

    She got out of bed and approached her big beautiful man. Crude black intricate tattoos masked his pleasing flesh, in the way of the early Picts. The more she stared, the markings seemed to swirl and move under his skin. It was mesmerizing.

    Stroking her fingers over his flesh, she then embraced him from behind, molding her soft, naked body to his. 

    Check out my tattoo board on pinterest

    Thanks for stopping by. Hop on through the linky list below for this week's MSS participants. 

     

    Friday, 26 August 2016

    Sex as a medium for character development @CBlackthorn #Tour #Giveaway A Variety of Chains

    A Variety of Chains
    Bloodhavens Series, Book 1
    by
    Christine Blackthorn


    Guest Post

    Sex as a medium for character development - in fiction

    Mind over matter - and why that is impossible in sex and erotic fiction

    Sex, or some sex, is a catalyst allowing the human mind to free itself and develop, ripping away the lies we tell ourselves and forcing us to face us and others without avoidances. It can heal, it can harm and it can be simply light hearted fun. All dependent how you choose to do it. It is one of the rawest, most intimate, challenges we face as adults.

    Of course not all sex serves this purpose. Many, possibly most people, never want this and are happy to use sex for what it always should be - fun. And that is more than enough. But for others it becomes a conscious choice to let go a little more, to allow your mind to settle into the emotions and let your relationship with your partner, and yourself, be affected. And that is bloody scary. Too scary to even consider on a daily or weekly (possibly yearly) basis.

    It is that kind of sex I use to allow my characters to develop. The physical as a catalyst for the emotional. Why? In part because I think relationships, love and friendship, are some of the most terrifying endeavours we can embark on. They leave us bare and open to devastating pain but also give us the grounding to dare to live life to the fullest. And hey, six times out of ten I will chicken out to let go quite that much during sex.

    So, why don’t my characters? Well, there are the usual arguments: they are fiction, they are an idealisation of what humans can be (one of the reasons why I write fantasy and not reality), they are created to face these challenges. All true, but also, they often do not have a choice. And I do not only relate here to stories which involve D/s storylines but pretty much all my stories. In one way or another people are forced to face their fear of intimacy and use it to develop.

    The reason why my reader’s like this is, I believe, because we all are afraid of intimacy and total commitment. No matter how many partners you have had, or how long you have been with one or more of them, the step to open yourself to another person is hard, sometimes impossible without a little help. Sex as a catalyst, a catharsis, as a symbol is what many of us, in our romantic ideals, strive to have to reach that level of absolute intimacy where we do not have to hide and are certain never be hurt.

    And that level is also impossible - because we are human. Outside of fantasy or science fiction, we do not have partner who can read our mind, who are so confident and practiced what they are doing that they will never make a mistake either physically or emotionally in sex. But we can dream. And we can read about it.

    So, sex as a medium for intimacy and absolute trust, though it is tempting, will always be out of our reach in its extreme. Outside of books that is. But we can come close in real life if we just work on it. 



    A Variety of Chains excerpt


    Quickly he attached a second cuff on her other thigh and tightened the ankle restraints, leaving her laid out on the bed, restrained and open, her legs parted and bent, entirely helpless and accessible to his touch.

    "You have no idea how beautiful you are like this – splayed for my desire, unable to resist the pleasure I can give you." It was his voice that kept the rising panic at bay. She felt the bed dip on her side and knew he had come to kneel beside her, but the first real touch was a soft kiss on her belly, a loving touch more than a seduction. Then his hands began to play over her in gentle caresses and soft massages, touching her everywhere without a pattern that would have forewarned her. One moment his hands were playing along her flank, over her hipbone, the next they circled her wrists above the restraints, reminding her of them, or massaged along her thigh. But he never touched her pussy or let even the gentlest movement play over her breasts. This absence made her skin there hungry and sensitive to him, more so than he could have done with hands or lips. She started to burn, inside out, every cell of her body reorienting itself to him, her mind consumed entirely by the expectation of his touch. Her ears followed his movements, her nose noticing his scent over that of the fire and her own arousal. When his lips engulfed her nipple in wet, hot sensation, a strange sound was torn from her, a sound somewhere between a moan and a cry. His encouragement became a caress of its own on her sensitised skin.

    "Sing for me, Kathryn. Let me hear your pleasure.”

    He took his time with her breasts, sucking, licking, never pushing her endurance but centring all her attention on his mouth over her nipples and his hands roving over her body. Only when she felt both her breasts swollen and heavy, her nipples taut and engorged, did he let up. Her breath was panting and as he sat up, removing his hands from her, she whimpered from abandonment, not pleasure. Every aspect of her demanded his touch, his scent, his voice – him.

    His dark laughter rose to engulf her.

    "Shh, now. We have only just started. I am here, always at your side. Remember that to get relief you only have to tell me something intimate, something I cannot guess or reason out for myself. A secret of your heart." As he spoke she heard the sound of a bottle opening, and the smell of peppermint permeated the room. She felt the touch of a cool cloth over nipples, leaving behind a slight wetness, nothing else. She was distracted from the new sensation by the hand gently stroking along her thigh to her vagina, a teasing touch cumulating in a finger stroking along her labia, collecting the moisture at her entrance and spreading it along the length to circle once over her clitoris. Then she felt a second cloth stroking along each side of her engorged clitoris, not touching directly but applying something to the skin around it. And suddenly there was a burn – a warming of her skin first but then heat in ever increasing intensity.


    Blurb


    Kathryn McClusky is an ErGer – a rare and highly prized individual in the supernatural world.

    She has spent her life running and hiding, but circumstances have changed and the only way to protect her family is to hand herself over to the Vampire Lord of London to face slavery or death.

    Lucian Neben runs his London court with a stern but fair hand, but political pressures are building from both the human and fey worlds, and taking possession of an ErGer would cement his position of power.

    Kathryn is vulnerable and broken almost beyond repair, but she holds in her hands the one treasure Lucian desperately wants – the possibility of home and family.

    Can he teach her to open herself up; to choose to life, and him, before reality forces him to take her freedom?
     



     Author Bio

    In "real" life, I am an academic with degrees in Political Science, Economics, Philosophy and Law and an insatiable desire to confound, baffle and disconcert my students. Someone once suggested to me the reason for my stories lay in the desire to offset the tedium and rationality of academic life. He wasn't an academic or he would have known better. It is best to use research against tedium, students to offset the rationality and an unlimited supply of stressballs for the faculty meetings. The stories? Well, they are just for me - like a mental manicure.


    I also write a blog on Feminism and Erotica - come talk to me: 
     
    * * * GIVEAWAY! * * 


    a Rafflecopter giveaway
    Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/christine-blackthorn/