Sunday, May 3, 2015

"The woman. I want the woman." The Outlaw Book 3 Montana Men Series Vanessa Vale

Happy Sunday! I'm thrilled to have Ms. Vanessa Vale over on my blog. Her cover is smoking hot, and so is the excerpt.
The Outlaw is the third book in my Montana Men series. If you know me at all, you know I like a hot cowboy. Why stop at one? In this series, each one is a super HOT man from Montana who knows what he wants and is definitely not afraid to claim--and possess--his new wife.
A little inside secret question for the fans of this blog-- Who really is the outlaw?
Love, Vanessa

Book 3- Montana Men Series
© 2015 Vanessa Vale & Blushing Books


The little snooze I took between August Point and Lewistown had been an act. Everything for me was an act. So much so that I was afraid I was losing myself. Perhaps I'd already done so, accepting a marriage of convenience as I had. The journey from Minneapolis to the Montana Territory had been interminable, rocking to and fro on a train, then cramped in a stage with two other women who were as nervous, as wary about their fates, as I. Eleanor and Emily, who were also mail order brides, had met their husbands at the appropriate stops, leaving me alone with my thoughts as I journeyed to my final destination. Apex. At long last.
I'd never had close friends; my miserable family life had not condoned, nor made those types of alliances, amenable. A friend from school would stop by to visit, yet only stay as long as my father was not present. Once he did make his presence known, she would scurry away to her own safe home like a mouse at the lighting of a lantern. One look at the gleam in his eye, the harsh tone of his voice and they knew his true nature. Evil. And so I grew up mostly alone. No confidants, no bosom buddy to laugh and share nonsensical items such as hair ribbons. Because of the man's perfidy, I had accustomed myself to a miserable, solitary lifestyle, making the journey west with two others quite an adjustment.
Not that either Eleanor or Emily were unkind. The opposite, in fact. They were women with whom I felt a kindred spirit. Vivacious, lively, light of heart. We were, though, only short-term friends as we were married to men in three different towns, mere dots on the vast landscape of the Montana Territory. I held no hopes of seeing them again, even though we'd vowed to keep in touch, and once alone in the stage I felt the comfort and familiarity of solitude. Solitude was safe. Even now, hundreds of miles from Minneapolis, even knowing my father could not come back from the dead to hurt me further, I feared. I never stopped being wary. Afraid.
The stage was stifling, the air thick with dust, the heat heavy like a winter blanket. I folded back a leather flap, allowing the cool breeze to enter, although the only exposed skin on my body to enjoy it were my face and my hands. Even the pale blue dress's collar was confining. I longed to undo the tiny buttons at my throat, but this would be unseemly. Appearances were all that mattered. I couldn't let anyone guess as to the real me. The real Caroline. If they discovered where I came from, what I'd done, well...I couldn't consider it.
No one had to know that my mild, pleasant demeanor was all a facade. A facade so well constructed that at times I forgot I wasn't the meek, mild waif I appeared. I couldn't change that I was a waif. Petite, thin, I could be taken for a boy, although my bosom could not be disguised. Emily always commented on how perfect I always looked, my hair neatly styled, my clothes crisp and fresh. Little did she know it was out of habit--a habit that had saved me from a beating often enough--that I remained so...perfect.
The stage hit a rut in the supposed path and it rocked me into the side of the stage, bumping my shoulder into the wooden wall. Bruises would cover me from bottom to back before my journey was complete. I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose, counted to ten. I could do this. I would survive. I would get by, without Eleanor or Emily, with a husband that was a complete stranger. In a land so foreign from the likes of Minneapolis it could have been France or Timbuktu.
Quick glimpses of the other ladies' husbands when the stage had stopped had me hopeful that mine would be as appealing. Eleanor's was August Point's sheriff, standing tall and his bearing dominant like his profession. Emily's man was strong and solid, with a brooding demeanor, yet seemed quite pleased at the sight of her.
Horace Meecham. My husband. Would Horace be as appealing to every feminine sense as the other men Mrs. Bidwell had chosen? The mail order madame who'd arranged and facilitated the marriages could be a lifesaver, or a prison warden, sending me to a lifetime sentence of...I wouldn't think about that.
Glancing out the opening, vast green prairie was all I could see. The grass waved with the breeze, looking like a soft carpet, especially with the warm sun shining upon it. The expanse was inviting to my confined spirit. I longed to roam free, with nothing or no one binding me to their dictates. I'd spent all of my nineteen years beneath the cruel thumb of my father, then quickly thrust into three weeks traveling with two companions. I'd soon be shackled to a man for the rest of my life. Would there be any time when I was truly free?
A loud crack startled me from my thoughts and it was a moment before I realized what had made the sound. A gun had been fired! The stage lurched sharply to the left and I teetered on the edge of the seat. Had the driver been shot? As the stage slowed, I jolted forward, falling onto the floor, my knees smarting at the hard contact. The driver--thankfully not dead--yelled at the horses to slow. Bracing my hands on the bench seat in front of me, careful not to bump my head as the stage staggered and shuddered to a stop. Even with the animals halted in their tracks, their snorts and harsh breathing loud, my heart raced on. Bewildered, I glanced out the window, but from my position on the floor, I could only see the blue, cloudless sky.
"What the hell are you shooting at me for, Masters?" Mr. McCallister, the stage driver, yelled, all riled and angry, although that seemed the way of him all the time. The men must be acquaintances if he knew his name which offered me a brief moment of comfort. Then I realized he wouldn't have shot at the stage if not for a valid reason. McCallister knew an outlaw by name?
"I want what's in the stage." The man's voice was deep, clear. And nearby.
I was in the stage. Quickly, I dropped down to ensure my entire person was beneath the edge of the window, my pale hair a beacon in the sunshine. Darting a glance around the small area, I searched for a place to hide. It was a silly venture; the space was spartan and offered nowhere to go. Except out.
"There's nothing of value. No bank box. Nothing." Silence. Then, "Why in tarnation are you taking to robbing the stage? Have you lost your mind? Your spread not keeping you busy enough? Isn't it best to keep your identity a secret, or are you planning on shooting me dead?"
I gulped down the panic that lodged in my throat. Would he shoot us?
"McCallister, quit your yapping," the man replied. "The woman. I want the woman."
My eyes widened in surprise. Oh God. He wanted me. The outlaw wanted me. I'd heard stories of stages being robbed with often deadly results. But those had just been stories. This was real life.
#1 Amazon Bestseller in Erotic Western & Erotic Historical!

Vanessa Vale writes escapist fantasy (aka erotic romance) in the form of historical westerns for Blushing Books. Everyone loves a cowboy--at least she does! A cowboy who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to take it. Oh yeah.

She lives in the West where she has lots of subject matter to drool over...
Montana Maidens Series-
Book 1- Claiming Catherine
Book 2- Taming Tessa
Book 3- Dominating Devney
Book 4- Submitting Sarah

      Montana Men Series-
Book 1- The Lawman
Book 2- The Cowboy- OUT NOW!
Book 3- The Outlaw- Coming end of April 26

To learn more about Vanessa Vale:
Web site-
Follow her on Twitter: @iamvanessavale
Keep up with Facebook:

Thanks for stopping by!


Thursday, March 26, 2015

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

"Spread your feet apart." Keith Anderson Pretty When You Cry

I'm happy to introduce Keith Anderson! His new Anthology, Pretty When You Cry, is up for sale this week for only $.99! Be sure to grab your copy!  I hope Keith realizes just how hard it was to choose one excerpt! Best of luck, you're welcome at my blog anytime.

 Here is a very sexy snippet from, "Antici-" 


After he pulled her hair back, Mark took a blindfold out of his back pocket and placed it over her eyes. Stacy marveled at how still everything gets when your vision is taken away. She stood motionless, straining to pick up any cues. Even though she remembered what the room looked like and knew he was nearby, she felt lost. The quiet was discomfiting. She jumped slightly when she felt his fingers trace her cheek, slowly gliding down her neck, between her breasts. His fingertips then looped around her navel and back up, drawing a lazy circle around one of her breasts, almost crossing a nipple, which hardened anyway from the thought.

His touch stopped and there was nothing. His command broke through the darkness. “Spread your feet apart.”

She moved her feet about shoulder width apart.


She spread them until her feet were about two feet from each other. His hands touched her ankle and then her restraint, hooking something to it and then to the other ankle restraint. When she tried to move her feet, she realized he had attached a two-foot spreader bar between her ankles, keeping her legs wide open. His fingers quickly took advantage by sliding up her inner thigh. She bit her lip at his touch, but he withdrew before he reached her wet pussy. She took a deep breath, dealing with her vulnerability and the tingles in between her legs.



Keith Anderson has been in BDSM lifestyle since 2000, has been involved in his local BDSM community since 2009 and loves to write hot and twisted stories about love, pain and pleasure.In his first anthology of short stories, Keith Anderson uses his creative, inventive and wonderfully descriptive writing style to explore territories and fantasies not for the timid. With six short stories like 'The Game', 'Downhill From Here' and 'All You Ever Wanted', plus a special sneak preview of the first chapter from his upcoming novel, “Kinky in Flatland', Keith wades into the hot waters of BDSM, spanking and erotic romance. An anthology that's sure to please and yet leave you wanting more, 'Pretty When You Cry' will be sure to excite your passions, inspire some fantasies and perhaps give you a few new things to think about when you go into the hardware section of Wal-Mart. Just sayin'. 

Warning : This book contains spanking, sex and BDSM elements. If you object to any of these things, please do not buy this book.

Buy link

Contact Keith

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twitter : @kandersonauthor
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Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Marie Hall: Royal Scold Worship Series Book Two

I'm sharing an excerpt from Marie Hall's newest release, Royal Scold, Worship Book Two. Thanks for stopping by!

Royal Scold_final.jpg


  “Io,” he whispered in her ear. Io jumped, how hadn’t she heard him come so close? “I warned you, you cannot say you did not bring this on yourself.” Xavier pushed her aside and pulled out the chair, sitting down hard, he yanked her down over his lap.
  “No, Xavier, no.” She put her hands back to keep him from lifting the smock she wore. “I will not disturb you, sleep.”
  “We are both going to sleep this night.” Xavier captured her hands holding them as he pushed the skirts high. “Unfortunately for you, sleep will come after this overdue lesson.”
  “This is not just,” Io claimed, relieved when he stopped raising her skirts.
  “Io, you have been told.” Xavier resumed exposing her legs and thigh not stopping until the material was gathered on the small of her back. “Three nights now I have let it pass. No more.”
  “I only wish you, us safe.” Io kicked her legs and squealed when Xavier’s big hand settled on her.
  “One more time Io, there is nothing safe in leaving a dangerous weapon lying about.” Xavier didn’t sound angry so perhaps he’d relent.
  “What about…” She sniffed. He might give in if she sounded contrite.
  He sighed, his callused fingers tickling at her skin and warming her in a place she much preferred, “Io, I have told you and this is the last time. You are safe in this tent with me. You are safe in this camp with everyone else. I have been coming to The Forks most of my life and there is rarely trouble.” She felt him sit back, straighter, stiffer his fingers stilled. “No one, Io, is going to hurt you.”
  “But you…” Io persisted only to tense when his hand lifted from her.
  “I will worry about me Io,” he said.
  Io was so relieved when the marks from the cane faded, when she could sit and move without pain or discomfort. She thrilled to the fact Xavier could touch her, grab her, and hold her without a sharp reminder of how disappointed he was with her. With the first resounding smack he undid it all. Put her back in a fog of pain. And he didn’t stop at one.
  “No,” Io cried and tried to twist away.
  His hand cracked down again. “You will stop with the weapons.”
  “Xavier, please I want…” He pulled his hand back, and before she could finish expressing her desires, it cracked down.
  “You will stop.” He trapped her kicking legs and his palm landed again.
  “Can you keep…” Io words ended on a wail when a fast, hard volley of blows landed.
  “This is not a,” Xavier started, and then lit into her with another long set, of hard swats, “negotiation.” He aimed lower and set about heating the tops of her thighs, “Io.”
  “Xavier,” Io squealed his name.
  “Will you relent?” He stopped his assault, rubbing gentle circles on her battered flesh.
  “Xavier.” She sniffed, for all he punished her already, there was no real hurt.
  “You relent?” His hand stilled.
  “Can I have back my knife?” Io realized, too late, it was the stupidest thing to say. Xavier’s heavy sigh corresponded with his grip around her waist tightening.
  “Io,” was all he said, before the real punishment began.
  Io regretted the stubbornness which led her to this. Her regret increased in proportion to the pain he inflicted on her poor backside. “Stop,” she cried out when he focused his smacks on that spot, “Stop.”
  Io didn’t know why she fought him, she never won, and it ended the same each time, her voice gone, her throat scratchy, her whole body exhausted and her arse burning and throbbing. With a sob she let it end the same way again. She dropped her head and waited for him to finish exacting the toll he felt she owed.
  His hand stilled almost as soon as she gave up leaving it resting, threatening, on the swell of her bottom. “You relent in this, Io?” She nodded, but tensed when his fingers tapped on a tender spot. “Do you relent, Io?”
United by a royal contract, Io Desmond has found pleasure and pain under Xavier’s firm and steady hand. But trust is not something Io affords to anyone and without it she cannot receive the full measure of what Xavier will give her.
Bound by love and lust, Xavier Brice would give Io the affection and discipline she requires to feel cared for and safe. But he’s never faced anything like the inner demons holding Io away from the offer of home and stability.
If Io’s doubts and fears prove stronger than Xavier’s promise of protection and devotion the challenge could tear them apart. If Xavier’s promise of commitment and dependability can rise above, then together, through the pleasure and the pain, they will find love.
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~Addy Raine~

Monday, March 23, 2015

"What do you want, little sub?" Morganna Williams His Girl, His Rules


Addy: I have the awesome Morganna Williams over today! She is sharing a sexy snippet (HOT) from her new release. I'm thrilled to see your book sitting at #7 in BDSM and #11 in Romantic Erotica! This is a great achievement!

Morganna: Thank you for having me today Adaline! I’m very excited about my new book His Girl, His Rules and making the top chart. In this excerpt, Glory is getting a little taste of a bdsm scene with Master Gabriel.

Addy: Oooh! Everyone enjoy. This was such a great read. Glory is so easy to connect with, and Gabriel just hit all the right buttons. *grin*

Big hands skimmed up her legs, catching the hem of the short skirt and tucking it into her waistband, then stroked slowly up her torso until they came to rest beneath her breasts. Gabriel kissed the side of her neck as he pulled the top of her bustier down until her breasts popped free and into his waiting hands.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against her neck as he cupped a breast in each hand and began to rhythmically pluck her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

Glory groaned and arched her back even more, pressing her breasts more tightly into his hands as she gripped the back of his neck.

“So responsive,” he said as he began to pull and twist each nipple a little harder, causing the sweetest pain she’d ever felt.

“Ooohh!” Glory was awash in sensation. The feel of his hands on her breasts was almost too good and the scent of her arousal filled the air as the telltale slickness between her legs leaked to her inner thighs.

Needing more, she moved her legs restlessly on either side of his legs as he continued to play with her breasts.

“What do you want, little sub?” Gabriel asked, pulling hard at her nipples and wringing another groan from her lips.

“I need…”

“What do you need?” he asked insistently.

“Please… touch me,” she whimpered.

“I am touching you, Glory,” Gabriel said with another hard tug that bowed her back.

“Not there. I want you to touch me… on my clit,” she finished on a breathless whimper.




Though Glory Walters writes erotic novels about firm-handed men who know how to deal with feisty women, she’s ashamed to admit she’s never experienced anything of the sort herself. But then she meets Gabriel—Sergeant Gabriel to the men he leads on the local SWAT team, but Master Gabriel to her—and suddenly the scenes in her books don’t seem so far-fetched anymore.

Gabriel has just been going through the motions in life since his wife’s death four years ago, but almost from the moment he sets eyes on her, he wants Glory as his own. Despite never having been taken in hand before, she responds beautifully to a good, hard, bare-bottom spanking, and his dominant lovemaking leaves her breathless. But when Glory foolishly puts herself in extreme danger, she soon discovers that naughty girls who take risks with their safety get their bottoms thoroughly punished… inside and out.

Publisher’s Note: His Girl, His Rules is an erotic novel that contains spankings, sexual scenes, anal play, elements of BDSM, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Buy Link for Amazon:

Morganna's Blog
Morganna's Amazon Author Page

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