Sunday, November 30, 2014

City Nights: One Night in Edinburgh by Charlotte Howard


Blurb:

Chloe Shard has travelled to Edinburgh to meet up with a potential client, and has just twenty-four hours to convince them to sign her contract. But when she meets the delicious Ethan, he proves to be so much more than an enticing distraction. It’s not long before Chloe has some life changing decisions to make, and less than a day to make them in.

Buy Links:

Tirgear Publishing
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Smashwords

Excerpt:

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut as the plane’s wheels bumped along the tarmac, and her stomach lurched into her chest as the brakes were applied. Her ears flooded with the sound of her own heart beating louder than the squealing and screeching of the landing gear. Pressure built in her cheeks as she clenched her teeth together. The worst hour in her life was almost over.

“Welcome to Edinburgh,” said the captain over the speaker system. “We hope you had a pleasant journey and enjoyed the flight. Please remain seated with your seat belts fastened until the light is turned off.”

A chuckle emanated from nearby. Chloe opened one eye and peered at the man in the seat across the aisle from her.

“You can breathe again,” he said in an American accent, flashing her a grin.

“I think I’ll wait until my feet are actually on the ground if it’s all the same to you,” she replied, leaning back into the headrest.

A loud ping was followed by a Mexican wave of clicking as the passengers released their seat belts and fought to get their bags and rush off the plane. Chloe undid her own belt then hurriedly squished herself into the seat as an oversized belly, violently stretching at a pale green shirt, began its invasion of her breathing space. Her shoulder was nudged as the impatient woman beside her stood up, hunching under the overhead compartment.

She waited for the plane to empty. The impatient woman started huffing and tutting. Chloe looked up apologetically, but was met with a hardened glare.

“Here,” said the man from opposite. She turned her gaze towards him and was grateful to see him holding back a herd of cattle desperate to depart. She drank him in for a second. He was broad enough to act as a barrier between her and the crowd. A very attractive barrier. From the way his T-shirt stretched over his biceps, she could tell that his width was certainly not due to being overweight. Ink spiralled around his skin from beneath the short sleeve, tracing down to his elbow.

“Thank you.” She stepped into the aisle. Immediately, the woman from beside her shoved herself through the gap, knocking Chloe into the man’s chest with an oof!

“I’m so sorry!” she said, stepping back and turning to the overhead compartments, feeling her cheeks heat. Her fingers tingled with the memory of his muscular chest beneath them.



Author Bio:

British author Charlotte Howard, was born in Oman and spent much of the first part of her life flitting between Oman, Scotland, and England. Now settled in Somerset, Charlotte lives with her husband, two children, and growing menagerie of pets.

Her career as a writer began at an early age, with a poem being featured in an anthology for the East Midlands. Since then Charlotte has written many short stories and poems, and finally wrote her first full-length piece of fiction in 2010.

During what little spare time she has, Charlotte enjoys reading and writing (of course), spending time with her family, and watching action movies whilst eating curry and drinking tea.

Charlotte is an active member of Yeovil Creative Writers.

Social Media /Website Links:

http://www.charlottehowardauthor.co.uk
http://choward2614.wordpress.com 
http://facebook.com/charlottehowardauthor
http://twitter.com/Shy_Tiger
Instagram: Choward_author
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/choward2614

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Hardened Desires by Layna Pimentel


Blurb:

What could Luc Mercier, a gargoyle who's more than a century old, possibly have in common with modern introvert, Gillian Harris? Loneliness and isolation.

When meddlesome friends bring the two together, neither is prepared for the flurry of emotions nor revelations that overwhelm them. That is, until Gillian stumbles across the truth and struggles with how she let her guard down.

Learning to love again has never been harder.

Excerpt:

Luc picked up a newspaper from the stand and tossed a two-dollar coin to the elderly man working the counter. He ascended the cavernous stairs of Bloor and Dufferin subway station, irritated by the lights flickering intensely. I should have just taken my car.

But if he did, Luc would have missed an opportunity to observe society other than from the café he frequented lately. A society he didn’t belong in, technically speaking, and had no business being a part of. Long gone were the muddy, off-beaten roads of provincial France. Long gone was the time when an over-flowing bodice was considered scandalous.

Now people thrived on exposing as much skin as possible. The modern day sentiment of what was attractive and acceptable embarrassed him to the core, from the mode of dress to the inappropriate use of language. Didn’t anyone know how to speak without using an expletive every other word? Where had humanity gone wrong? It was ghastly enough that children didn’t respect their elders, much less their parents.

Nevertheless, as much as this modern world perplexed him, nothing could deter him from at least enjoying his freedom, regardless of the limitations restricting his activities to the darkness of the night.

He did, however, miss the ambiance of candle light and the soft cries while seducing a woman, tormenting her with his wicked tongue. Exploring deviant, but heavenly, practices of binding and mixing pleasure with pain. Sweet promises falling from his lips while exploring every inch of her delicate and exquisite flesh.

These days, the few women he was able to enjoy weren’t interested in highly sensual liaisons. No. Today’s women thrived on being in control of seduction, whether they were proficient or not. There certainly wasn’t anything wrong with the scenario, but it wasn’t his taste. He preferred his women soft, like Genevieve…his sweet, sweet Genevieve.

No matter how many decades passed, the only woman he’d ever confided in, and planned to wed, crept into his mind many a time. Genevieve was an old soul, who found him and fell in love. Then, much like a Greek tragedy, their story ended woefully. The trust and courage it had taken to confess to Genevieve of the monstrosity he had become left him restless and, for once in his miserable existence, vulnerable. If not for her kindness, encouragement, and love, who knew what he would be doing and where.

This last week, though, he thought to explore the possibility of trying again. A particular woman, who frequented the café where he spent his early evenings drinking a brandy and reading The Daily Sun, had caught his particular interest. Her laughter aroused his curiosity in the few and far between moments when he contemplated actually living life. Her voice, whether chuckling or whispering to her friend, always made his body react in an animalistic way.

While they had never met, she seemed like someone he’d be interested in getting to know, at the very least, for a little while. Luc doubted very much he’d find another woman like the love of his life and often thought it would be better that way. How could he even begin to explain why he only ever spent time with her at night, and why he’d always be gone before the first sign of daybreak?

Where to Buy:

Amazon US
Amazon CA
Amazon UK
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords

Biography:

Born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Layna discovered her love of reading at an early age. When she isn’t devouring salacious romance novels or writing, she enjoys losing herself in researching ancient history and mythology, weaponry, and hiking. She lives in Northern Ontario, with her husband and two daughters.

Layna is a member of the Romance Writers of America, and is a monthly contributor at 69 Shades of Smut. For updates on her upcoming releases, or to leave her a comment, you can find at:

Website
Twitter
Facebook

Thursday, November 20, 2014

One Night In Paris


City Nights: One Night in Paris by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) Just $0.99/77p on Amazon During November! 

For the month of November, this erotic romance novella will be on SALE. Warm up those winter nights with this smokin’ hot read!

Grab your copy here: Amazon

Here's what it's all about: 

Jacob is nearly forty, and has recently come to the sudden realisation that he’s not doing much with his life. Sure, he’s got his own successful business, but what’s the point in earning lots of money and not doing anything or going anywhere to spend it?

He’s in serious danger of being all work and no play, so he starts to rectify this by organising a twenty four hour layover in Paris en route to a meeting in Dubai. Whilst there, he goes on a bus tour of the city, and there meets Annabelle, a fellow Brit who’s studying in Paris. There’s clearly an attraction between the two of them, so when the gorgeous Annabelle makes an indecent proposal to help Jacob fill his time in Paris, who is he to refuse?

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Sapphic Smut - Tales of Lesbian Lust


Blurb:

Light hearted, sexy Sapphic smut is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Lucy Felthouse with assistance from Kev ‘Mitnik’ Blisse.

From coffee shops to exotic Indian adventures to cosy cabins in France, Sapphic Smut has it all. Fun with sugar, naughty spankings, seductions by strangers, seductions by friends, cougars and even a twist on a fairy tale abound in this exciting collection of lesbian stories from erotica’s finest authors.

This delicious girl-on-girl anthology contains stories from Lucy Felthouse, Kay Jaybee, Louisa Bacio, Sallyanne Rogers, Vanessa de Sade, Tabitha Rayne and Elizabeth Coldwell.


Amazon

Other Links

Editor's Facebook page

Excerpt:

Alana really couldn’t believe how flat Holland was. She’d been told by many people, but somehow, she still wasn’t expecting a place that made Cambridgeshire look like the Peak District. Her view from the train as she travelled from Schiphol airport to Amsterdam’s Centraal Station was unimpeded. Not so much as a hillock was visible.

And now, here she was, standing outside the station with crowds milling around her. A mixture of tourists, businesspeople and natives. She herself was a combination of two of those groups—she was here on business, but she’d deliberately extended her trip so she could spend a couple of days exploring the city. She had a day either side of her meeting, the boring part a filling to a sightseeing sandwich. Though, despite the boring tag, the meeting definitely wasn’t a bad thing, it was an appointment to cross the ts and dot the is on a very lucrative deal—certainly the trip was worthwhile.

After watching the insanity for another minute or so, she began to head away from the station, wheeling her small case along with her. Already armed with a guidebook and a decent map, she knew where she was going. Her map-reading skills were excellent, and she made the short walk to her hotel in less than twenty minutes. Anywhere else, she’d have gotten a cab, but it appeared they were a rare commodity in this city.

She’d checked in, dumped her bags and freshened up within another ten minutes, and was back on the street.

An online acquaintance had sent her a bunch of information for her trip—about the best museums, interesting things to see that might not be in guidebooks, and details on transport. It appeared that Amsterdam was unlike London, Paris and Rome, in as much as it had trams as its preferred mode of transport, rather than underground trains. Only one Metro line ran through the city, north-to-south. Everywhere else was utterly dependent on trams, bikes and being on foot.

And fuck, there were a lot of bikes. They zipped here, there and everywhere, not always staying where they were supposed to be, it seemed. The slim Dutch people atop the bikes were oblivious, just concentrating on getting where they were going.

Alana searched for the nearest tram stop, and quickly discovered she needed to be on the other side of the road to head in the right direction.

Crossing the road was a chore in itself. A dice with death. She’d thought Rome’s motorists were insane, but at least they were fairly predictable. Here, she was faced with crossing a road that held a cycle path, a tram line and a lane for cars. Shifting down the pavement, she stood at the conveniently placed crossing. It still didn’t make things much easier, but at least she could mingle in with the crowd. Traffic was much more likely to stop if it was going to hit a crowd of people than a single pedestrian. Right?

By some miracle, she reached the opposite pavement unscathed—except for her nerves, which were shot—and approached the tram stop. As if by magic, a tram arrived, and it was the correct number. Things were looking up.

After a few minutes, she realised that public transport in Amsterdam was nowhere near as easy to navigate as in the other major cities she was familiar with. There, their Tube or Metro stations always had plenty of large, unmissable signs telling you where you were. Piccadilly Circus, Anvers, Piramide. Here, it seemed you were left to your own devices. There were announcements on board the tram, but they were in Dutch—a language which she knew very little of—incredibly muffled, and pretty much drowned out by the sound of the tram’s motion and its passengers.

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Tied to You by Bibi Paterson


Blurb:

Olivia Walker has just hit rock bottom. About to lose her job and become homeless, she can’t see a way out of the mess her life has become until Alex Davenport enters her life with a proposal she is in no position to refuse.

Wealthy and arrogant, Alex is used to getting whatever he wants and he has set his eyes on Olivia. For months he has watched her, waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself to make her his, and finally it has appeared.

But Alex is hiding a secret, one that he is determined to protect until, one day, Olivia makes a discovery that sets her on a course of self-discovery. Together they explore Olivia’s submissive side, pushing boundaries and taking her on the wildest ride of her life. But when Olivia’s past threatens to expose Alex’s secret lifestyle, the time for truths and full disclosure is at hand. Can Alex let go of the fears that have bound his true nature? And can a couple that fell in lust find their own happily ever after?

Warning: This book is intended for mature audiences as it contains explicit sex scenes and BDSM themes.



Excerpt:

“We’re leaving,” Alex states in a tone that brooks no argument. I merely nod in reply and let him lead me to the cloakroom to fetch my wrap, and then we are sitting in the car, being driven home. The tension between us is thick, yet neither of us has said a word. I glance up at Alex under my eyelashes and see his jaw clenched and an expression that I can’t fathom in his eyes. Every fibre of my being is hyper-aware of Alex’s masculinity, and a dull throb sits between my legs. I squirm in my seat, trying to find a little relief, when suddenly I am aware of Alex’s scrutiny. His eyes bore through me, yet the expression on his face remains a neutral mask. A smirk appears as he runs his eyes over my body and I find my nipples hardening under my dress.

We have no sooner pulled up in front of the house than Alex is pulling me from the car and into the house. The door slams shut behind us and for a moment we both just look at each other, lost in the inevitable. And then Alex speaks. “Turn around, Olivia.” The command is issued in a low, gravelly voice, completely at odds with Alex’s regular teasing tone. The use of my full name startles me, and before I can think further, my body is already obeying. I stand still, my eyes staring up the stairs, as we stand in the frigid hallway, and I wait with bated breath. A few moments pass and all I can hear is our breathing.

Suddenly I am aware of Alex’s arms coming over my shoulders and unhooking the cape at my throat. It slithers to the floor, and for a heartbeat, the world stops spinning on its axis. I shiver as I feel Alex’s warm breath on my neck as, ever so slowly, he pulls down the zip of my gown. “Put your arms out and hold on to the end of the bannister,” he instructs gruffly. I comply without rational thought, quietly awaiting his next command. The single movement has my dress pooling at my feet as I lean forward to grip the smooth wooden post. Large, agile hands skim down my sides until they rest on my hips and I am very much aware that my arse is now in the air, the angle of my body on my heels offering direct access to my damp, aching pussy. The hands follow a leisurely pace down the backs of my thighs and calves, until they reach my ankles. “Lift your foot and then the other,” Alex orders. I comply and he pulls the dress out from around my feet, discarding it in a heap by the front door.

I glance back down at Alex, but immediately he notices. “Eyes forward,” he barks, and I whip my head back around, my heart thumping in my ears. The cold of the hallway has raised goose bumps over my skin and I am shivering ever so slightly. I feel Alex stand behind me, heat radiating from his frame making the cold more tolerable, and then I hear him shedding his own clothes. My body is feeling ultra-sensitive, and the moment his hand snakes around my waist and deft fingers find my clit, I let out a low groan, as the warmth starts to spread across my pelvis. His pelvis pushes into my arse and I can feel the huge length of him grinding between my butt cheeks. Suddenly, Alex’s other hand is grabbing my breast, pulling it from the confines of my strapless bra and, almost painfully, squeezing my nipple. Teeth nip at my ear and neck as he forces my head back, my back arching as I try to maintain my balance.

“I don’t make love,” Alex hisses into my ear. “I fuck, I root, I shag…but I don’t do soft and I don’t do sweet. Do you understand, Olivia?” I nod my head, a thousand conflicting thoughts swirling around my head. “If you want this to stop, you need to say so now…” he trails off and waits for my answer. My brain is telling me that this is all a bit weird, that this is not what I want, but my treacherous body has other ideas and so I keep silent.

Pinterest board

Buy Links:

Amazon (US)
Amazon (UK)
iBooks
Kobo
Nook

Author Bio:




Bibi is a former marketing executive and mum to a gorgeous little girl currently residing just north of London. She recently spent a year living it up on the beaches of Western Australia and her hobbies include consuming copious amounts of coffee and chocolate, building cardboard castles and creating stories in her head.

Inspired from a young age, her love for literature started with Enid Blyton and her Secret Seven. Since then a voracious appetite for books has brought her a world full of heroes, love, murder, betrayal and the odd vampire thrown in for good cause.

Having long admired those brave enough to put pen to paper, or in this modern age of computing, keyboard to screen, she has finally started telling the sexy stories that she has been keeping locked up in her head all this time.

Website
Facebook
Twitter
Pinterest
Instagram


Sunday, November 2, 2014

Memories and Kisses


Memories & Kisses by Muffy Wilson (@SexyMuffyWilson)

Thank you so much for having me for a visit. I think I have fallen in love with the girl on the cover of my latest book Memories & Kisses. She is beautiful, of course, but what really attracts me is her mystery. I’m sure it is no accident that she uses bright red lipstick. Take a casual glance at her picture, and you are caught by that luscious, loveable mouth. Who does she kiss? Just one lover? Or several? Does she kiss men or perhaps women? Would she kiss me on the right evening?

What do you think? Is she thinking about memories of love lost? Perhaps the memories made trying to forget a lost love? Even old memories revisited by old friends, united in a kiss that rekindles flames, passions and desire, too. Old memories are like old red wine - all the richer for time passed. And the kisses taste sweeter too. Three romantic and very sexy stories take us back to things as they once were, and forward to the wonderful times to come.

Memories & Kisses has three stories of old loves remembered; a grieving woman rescued from the sea, two childhood friends growing old friendship into passionate loving, and two long separated teenagers finding that time has mellowed them both and maturity has brought a passionate intensity they had never imagined. All three stories are of rekindled love that survived decades of longing and is now ready to burst into flame.

Blurb: 

The Storm ~ a newly widowed woman unable to face the world alone and lonely, buries her husband. Overcome by grief, she walks into the rough, grinding pitiless surf in an effort to blend the gray in her heart with the gray on the horizon. She is saved from the crashing waves by a man, a bearded white haired man who brings her back to life and gives her a reason to live again.

The Park ~ two childhood friends, now adults, reunite on the eve of the dedication of their once favorite playground now slated to become a high-tech water park. The destruction of their favorite playground makes them melancholy; reliving their dreams as children in this park inspires them to greater, more passionate long buried desires they never responded to as teens, but knew existed but in their memories.

The Story of Us ~ high school friends, once nearly sweethearts, reconnect in their sixties. The Internet removes the veil of uncomfortable shyness. They are open and revealing in emails about their youthful teenaged desires for one another. They discover what we all hope is true: that love is eternal. Surviving decades, not only in the shadowed recesses of our memories, but in a kiss, a touch, a magnetic embrace love thrives.

Do you have memories of a love that once was?...of a love that was lost?...of, perhaps, a rekindled love that survived decades of longing?

Buy Links:

Amazon US
Amazon UK
Ganxy
XinXii
Kobo
iTunes

Excerpt from The Storm:

I walk to the surf, heaving for breath, weak from running against the rain, fighting the storm, the sadness, my loss - your death. I walk into the surf and keep walking. It is surprisingly warm and enveloping. I suddenly feel comforted, my heartbreak no longer a penetrating pain. I know you are with me and I seek out your embrace. I cry again, scream at the thunderous surf, and then I am gone. I can’t breathe and I am falling, rolling, tumbling in a hazy grey darkness that is wet, ferocious, demanding. Suddenly my dizzy comfort turns to fear and I struggle against the pounding, relentless waves. What have I done? I am a good swimmer and an athlete, but can I beat this? Instinct overcomes me. My heart pounds. I start to kick wildly. Moving my arms toward the surface, the current catches me again, tumbling me over and over. My lungs burn. I lose my bearing—which way is up, down? I start to get a sickening feeling of death, my own impending death, and, just as I start to give in, I feel the hand of God grab my hair and hood in a fierce grip and yank me to the surface. I feel the sky darken and the surf diminish. Everything tastes salty, gritty, and then my body heaves, relaxed, and my world goes black.

I awake to pounding on my chest; I am being rattled and something is covering my mouth and nose. I cough, retch, and then vomit the last vestiges of the ocean from my body. My mouth is filled with grit, sand, and the salty taste of taffy. I open my eyes and see God reaching down toward me. He leans over me and the salty ocean water drips from his face to mine. He is big, strong, and gasping; he is surrounded in a glowing aura which intensifies his white hair and white beard. I am frightened. I must be dead. But that cannot be! How foolish I am. He sits me up, tenderly and gently helps me to my feet, all the while holding me securely with large strong hands and then he speaks to me.

“Are you alright, miss? You scared me near to death when I saw you walk into the surf. Why in the world….Where do you live?”

I am alive to my senses.

“Wha. . . ?” My knees weaken and I fall further into his arms. Quickly, he catches my descent and carries me to a bench where he sits me down, moving the errant curls of hair from my cheeks, and speaks to me again.

“Where are you staying? Shall I call the police?”

I can feel my heart pounding against his chest.

“No, please, I’m . . . I’ll be fine. My key, my pocket; it’s in my pocket. Please…”

I can’t remember my hotel or where I am or why. As he unzips my pocket and removes my hotel key, he pulls my hood up over my head to shelter my face from the pelting rain. Collecting me under his arm, my body firmly in his grip, we walk slowly back to the hotel. The traffic is still sparse, no taxis to be seen. It seems to take forever. The storm is so much worse, the surf so high, sucking the wind into the watery folds as it retreats to the ocean. At once, I am so scared that I begin to tremble and yet, I feel protected.

As we walk into the hotel lobby, the bell captain approaches us and asks if I need the hotel doctor, whereupon my guardian says, “No, that won’t be necessary, thank you.” We take the elevator to my floor and I am finally in the sanctity of my room, as lonely as it is. My savior, my hero sits me in the desk chair while he goes to the bathroom and starts the shower. He returns. He is saying something to me that I can’t understand, but he starts to take my shoes off. Then he leans me forward, removes my windbreaker and sports bra, and helps me stand while he pulls relentlessly at my wet spandex knee-highs. He kicks off his own running shoes and removes his blazer. He carries me to the shower but I feel as if I’m watching the scene unfold from outside my own body. I am unafraid of this stranger. 

The water is hot and piercing, but he is gentle, loving, and tender. He bathes me and washes my hair, lifting the removable nozzle to rinse the sand, grit, and seaweed from my hair and lithe body. My skin is a deep pink from the intense extreme of the cold grasp of the ocean and the heated comfort of the hot shower. His hands are everywhere, on every curve, gently caressing my skin with his soapy fingertips. He deftly, tenderly, washes my breasts, my taunt stomach and pussy. He controls himself, but I can’t let him stop. I look up at him, and notice he is watching himself bathe me. He seems to caress my buttocks as he cleans the sand from between my rounded cheeks. Unembarrassed, he rinses my body thoroughly, running his fingers though my shoulder-length brown hair. I feel safe, warmed, yet surprisingly aroused, weakened by my ordeal.

For the first time, it seems, he looks down at me. He takes me in as I look up at him, transfixed by his control. I am naked in my sorrow and my pain; he, fully clothed except for his windbreaker and shoes, smiles, touching my heart. I did not notice his erection in the shower, he is a complete gentleman. My breasts, the curve of my belly to my thigh, my face against his chest glisten in the shower, as I trust him to help me.

Memories and Kisses - read more

Author Bio and Links:

Muffy, author of erotic, romantic stories about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in San Antonio, Texas, to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family "princess," indulged and pampered. She adored her older brothers, following them everywhere and was surrounded by love, stimulation, and pets. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. The family lived in most points between Alaska and France. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and came of age in France.

Returning from France with her family, Muffy finished high school in Northern California and attended the University of California, Davis, and majored in Business Management. Muffy entered the work force, independent with a fierce work ethic, and retired at 39 from IBM as a Mid-West Regional Director in the Real Estate and Construction Division. She and her husband moved to a small Island in northern Wisconsin where they owned a historic tavern, restaurant and resort business which they since have sold. They now live a charmed life by the water in SW Florida. Muffy pretends to be a serious real estate business person but, in real life, indulges her private interest in writing sexy short stories and sensual literotica ~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion.

Website | Blog | Twitter | Email |  Facebook | FB Fan Page | Google+ | Amazon | Ganxy | XinXii | Kobo Books | iTunes Books |Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing 

Previously Published at:

Oysters & Chocolate, Decadent Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Yellow Silk Dreams