Steel Dominance, Book 3, Steamworks Chronicles, has gone to Loose Id. I already have this on my home page, but I figured it deserved a blog post. YES, I do have critters like that one above in the book. But they are cute, I swear it on my grandmother's garden bed. I call these clockies. Here is a tiny excerpt, a sneak peek of Steel Dominance. From the feel of it Dankyo had scooped something up. He moved in so his thighs jammed hers into the desk. Then the rhythmic quaking of his body on hers puzzled her a moment. “Are you laughing? What was it?” “This.” He held a golden metal creature the size of her palm before her eyes. “Oh!” She jerked her head back. It wriggled…had many legs. And damn, it reminded her of a cross between a spider and a crab. “It’s a clockie,” Dankyo said. He put a squarish glass jar on the desk, dropped the creature in and screwed on the lid. “The Ottomans bombard Byzantium with them every Tuesday or so.” “Ugh.” She peered at it, her thoughts strung between the feel of Dankyo’s body pressing on her and watching the thing scrabbling about in the bottle. “What are they for?” “They write religious graffiti. Don’t worry. It only got as far as G.” “G? Where?” “On your ass. G is for God.” Oh hell. And now he really was laughing. “Damn you! Stop that!” She squirmed about to shout at him but he only leaned in and squashed her flat with his whole body. “Shh. Stay there. I’m not finished with you yet.” And that statement made her freeze. Clockie a foot from her nose, some writing on her throbbing sore ass, but with him on top of her, the world drifted far far away. “Mmm. Yes.” Nothing much happened after that. He lay on her, breathing softly, holding her down, at times playing with her hair. The weight of him was enough to keep her still but not hurt her, enough to keep her from escaping or wriggling, and slowly, like a tide washing in and filling a rock pool, his presence filled her up. A word came to her that seemed to sum up how she felt. Possession. 
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My third book in the Steamworks Chronicles series, Steel Dominance, has been written. This time the story is mostly set in a steampunk Byzantium (the first name for Constantinople) and this is Dankyo's story. Early news from a couple of my beta readers, Candace Blevins and Bianca Sarble, is that it's turned out well.
From Candace Blevins, who really knows her BDSM back-to-front -- "You've got the perfect explanations and descriptions for when she is turned on by something only because he's doing it and it's turning him on. For that matter, the vast majority of their D/s interactions worked for me. Character development is great. Loved the world-building. I seriously loved some of the concepts, and the whole clockwork thing was nicely done -- with Zig-zag and the little writer bug thingies, and the way you wove it all into the story and plot. So, nice worldbuilding, great plot, good subplots, steaming sex scenes, and bonus points for finding a way to put her into a situation where slavery is real but she isn't actually a slave." From Bianca Sarble -"Dankyo - He reminds me of Leonhardt. They both have the quiet dominance without the overbearing masculine ego. I like this. I like this a lot :). He doesn't sugar coat things, and makes mistakes which makes him a much more likeable character for us and Sofia." I'm waiting for more feedback before I do the final tweaks, then it's off to Loose Id and my editor Crystal. Adults Only - 18 Years plus Grand Prize of the Demons vs Angels Blog Hop - ONE winner gets a Kindle Touch & ONE winner gets a $60 Amazon or Barnes&Noble Gift Card. Make sure you comment with your email address! Otherwise we can't enter you in the grand prize. All of my books are BDSM erotic romances. I'm giving away one e-Book from my backlist if you comment. To see my books, click here, or on the Books by Cari Silverwood tab above. I'll also do a one-off email to all who comment, telling you when the Erotic Escapades anthology comes out. As I'm not sure if it'll be free or 99 cents, I'll include that info in the email. If you don't want to be in that mass email, just say so in your comment. What is it about demons that so attracts us to stories? Their magical powers? The way they can pick you up and throw you around the room with their pinky finger? Or hold you against a wall while they deliver a sizzling kiss? The bad boy image? Mmmmmm. I like them all, but especially the last two. To me, angels just don't cut it. Give me someone just a little bit mean and I'll melt at their feet, then kiss my way upward when they ask me to. If you're an angel lover...why?! If it's demons, join the club, only don't steal mine, cause I might get all possessive. This story below is the start of a new PNR series with an American West theme. It's supposed to be a less erotic series than I usually do, but Talon seems to have other ideas. Rusted Rattlesnakes and Lubricated Love - excerptThis is from a short story which will be in anthology called "Erotic Escapades" due out in July from my critique group - ERAuthors. It'll be either free or 99 cents. My story is also the first few chapters of a new book in a post-apocalyptic PNR series called "Cataclysm Blues". There will be demons. Cataclysm Blues - Book One, Awakening is due for release in the last quarter of 2012. Just so you know - this is Talon: No name still. But, he was kinda pretty. All in black—shirt, trousers, belt, weapons—like someone trying to look tough. Didn’t impress her. What did was the swell of his biceps when he raised the bottle. His profile was…she shifted in her chair…damn good too. Short curly black hair, a roman nose, big mouth…but an alcoholic? Can’t have it all in one package. That would spoil it. This way he was big and bad and kissable and broken. If it wasn’t for the row of shrapnel scars marching up his neck, she’d… ****** Talon had made it to where his motorcycle was parked next to the man-high brick fence. Even in the poor lights out there, the vehicle gleamed some dark color—black most likely, knowing him. As she strolled forward, he turned, spun even—and there was no wobbliness at all. Rose frowned and took the last yard fast, drew her S&W revolver left-handed, and slammed her hand up onto his throat. She lifted him six inches off the ground with most of the weight under his jaw so he could breathe. The pistol went under his ribs. “Okay, you cunning bastard, I can see you’re not drunk. No idea how, but when I let you down, you’re facing your cycle and showing me both wrists. Got it?” “You do realize, you should not be able to lift me.” “Huh?” The calmly said sentence was so out of place. “No woman can lift this much one-handed.” “Surprise, surprise. I can. It’s the croquet, and all the oatmeal.” Why wasn’t he sounding half-strangled? “I am not going to hurt you. I don’t like guns pointed at me.” Hurt me? As if. “At you? It’s only your ri—” The move was fast and unexpected. She couldn’t counter it and barely knew what he’d done after it was over. Her pistol was gone, she’d been shoved into the brick wall hard enough to sting her back, and Talon held both her hands above her head. They were both breathing hard. “Don’t scream. I’ll let you go. I just wanted you out here to talk, like I said.” She blinked. How had he done that? No one, ever, bested her. “You’re a freak.” She wriggled her wrists but all that did was chafe her skin on the brick. Could kick him. As if he’d read her mind, he crowded her—his body pressing close. Groin to groin, his chest to her breasts, and his mouth inches away from hers. And there it was—that kerthump sinking feeling again. The temperature between her legs went up several degrees, and wet…she was much wetter down there. “Freak? Am I?” She heard that dead smile in his words again. “What about you?” “Me? I’m the sheriff.” He still held her. “The letting go bit? Remember? My deputy is coming.” “Not yet he isn’t. I can’t hear him.” The pause stretched to the breaking point. “You’ve been stupid, Sheriff.” Yeah, she guessed she had. She’d thought she could take him. Killing someone took seconds, if you knew how. Looking into Talon’s night-darkened eyes only reinforced her gut instinct—this man could kill. But he hadn’t. And now, though she could try screaming, that meant sucking in a heap of air, and he’d know. On the flip side… “If you’d wanted to kill me, you’d have done it by now.” “True.” So close, she felt the waft of warm air from his mouth as he spoke. She smelled him every time she inhaled—man and scotch, with a hint of gasoline. As if he read her mind, he leaned in and put his nose to her neck where it was bared by her collar. His warm skin on hers. The fine bristles on his chin rasped at her. She tensed. Why am I not protesting? I’m not some floozy. No? Then why haven’t I screamed for Deputy Yale? And sod it, that man is slow. “Kill you? You smell too good, beautiful. I think I have other plans.” Beautiful? Other plans? She stopped breathing. No one called her that. Especially not a six foot plus hunk of man who could, for once, eat her all up without half trying. His thigh moved in, denim to denim, pressing upward to where her clit resided. God damn, that’s… The wall seemed to slide a half inch upward, because her knees had caved. She’d melted—bone, muscle, everything. The only thing stopping her slide was his knee between her legs, and her arms fastened above. Around her wrists his grip rhythmically relaxed then tightened as if he was thinking. She thought about swallowing again, but that would be a dead giveaway to her arousal. “You’ve never been kissed, have you, Rose?” “Of course I have.” The huskiness in her voice bothered her. He’d know. Got to get back on the job. Get out of this hold for starters. “No. You’ve never had a man kiss you, though you might have kissed them. There’s a difference. I doubt anyone else could handle you. I can.” Stunned, she gaped at him. Above, he put her hands together and held them in one fist. She pushed outward but still couldn’t budge him. Her next deep breath pressed her breasts into his chest. And he put his hand to her neck—without asking, like it belonged there. Like he had the right to do whatever he wished. The sensation tripped her into another land. Here was a man unafraid to do what he wanted with her. Thumb on one side of her neck, fingers on the other, holding her there too, he spoke. “Done trying to escape?” She simply breathed, watched, like waiting for an avalanche. Then ever so slowly, without fuss, he came in for a kiss. Her brain kicked in. “My deputy—” His mouth covered hers. Warmth flooded through her. Slowly she closed her eyes, as he assaulted her mouth and claimed her. Fastened to the wall by his hands and body, she had no choice, for he leaned in harder and almost nailed her in place. His kisses, the subtle thrust of his thigh up into her pussy, the constant grasp on her throat and the way he let her have absolutely no way to move her hands, it all built into a storm that rumbled through her. The kisses grew rougher, he nipped at her mouth, and pushed her head to the side so he could bite and suck at her throat. Soon her moans and the sound of his lips and teeth and tongue on her were all she could hear. She writhed against his thigh, and his hand stroked where her shirt had ridden up above her navel. He leaned his head onto her neck so her head was forced to the side. Above her own ragged breaths, she heard his quiet words. “So soft. This is you. Not these.” He tapped her pistol, then his hand wormed down deeper between the top of her low-riding jeans and her skin. Too tight, he only got one finger down close…a small distance from her little throbbing clit. Oh, she could tell to a fraction of an inch how far that finger needed to go.
Adults Only - 18 years plus 100s of authors of sexy stories are in this blog hop so if you want something to warm up your nights follow the links at the bottom of this post! Every person who comments is entered into the draw at each blog as well as one of the grand prizes shown below. Grand Prize One - the "Digital Erotica Gift Basket with over 40 books." My book "Rough Surrender" is in this BIG huge gift basket of books. Grand Prize Two - the "$100 Gift Card to EdenFantasys, fun sex toy shop." The prize here, at my blog, is a copy of one of my ebooks (your choice - see the tab above "Books by Cari Silverwood" Kinky sex surely has to be best in the summertime? I seem to have a lot of it happening on rooftops in my stories and you can't get naked outdoors unless it's hot. Or you shouldn't. *shiver* Doing it when it's snowing or there's a blizzard howling past just seems wrong. Below is an excerpt of my latest erotic BDSM romance, Rough Surrender, that's already a bestseller at ARE.
At a time when airplanes are as new-fangled and sensational as the telephone, Faith dares to fly. The one territory she has not explored is her own sexuality. In Leonhardt she discovers the man who can teach her how a woman surrenders her body and her mind. However, Leonhardt has a shadowed past and his own learning to do. He doesn't have the right to keep Faith from flying, even if he thinks airplanes are flimsy death-traps made of canvas, timber and their inventor's prayers. Faith has her limits, Leonhardt has his flaws, and sometimes the nicest people get murdered by unscrupulous bastards. Even if Leonhardt can save the woman he loves, the battle for Faith’s heart will be the hardest one of all. WARNING: BDSM, anal sex, orgasms galore, and a Dom who likes to claim his property with pen, ink and bondage. Rough Surrender - Excerpt of Chapter One The last three lashes of the whip striped across her naked back. Molly jerked only a little, moaning softly, hanging limp in the rope tying her hands to the top of the post. Red lines crisscrossed her buttocks and a few places higher up. Waves of her glossy brunette hair clung to her shoulders, shimmering in the yellow light of the electric chandelier dangling from the high ceiling. Her white cotton drawers were pulled to ankle level and long silk ties trailed over her feet. No blood showed--he’d judged it right. Hard to do sometimes with the whips Smythe provided at his brothel whenright was as delicate a matter as painting a butterfly’s wing. Leonhardt smiled. Molly had a love of the whip and it seemed he’d taken her to exactly the place she wanted to go. Her inner thighs glistened with moisture. “Molly?” He dropped the whip, stepped up to her and ran his hand down her back, feeling her ribcage move with each pant, tracing the raised lines where he’d laid the leather. Sweat slicked under his hand. She whimpered and flinched at the press of his fingers. “There, there. Shh.” He kissed her neck and caressed the lines, watching her mouth, the rhythm of her breathing and the other tiny signs that spoke of arousal. When her squeaks changed into soft sighs, the familiar electricity zapped him into higher awareness. He never grew tired of seeing how far he could take a woman. His cock pressed into his trousers. Every response of her body--every moan and movement, every mark on her skin, made him wish he could record it somehow, a symphony of the whip with her beautiful pain and pleasure written for him to treasure. He might have asked her if she wanted to come but the mere act of not asking thrilled him more. Making her come, whether she wanted it or not was far better. The slickness between her legs let him glide two fingers into her, exactly as like his cock might enter her. The clench of her hot flesh and her little shudder made him smile. He inhaled her scent while slowly increasing the pumping tempo--in and out, a little faster, a little rougher, a little farther when he pushed hard. Buylinks for Rough Surrender
Click HERE to find the other blogs, or on the bloghop image above. Adults Only - 18 years plus From Rough Surrender - BDSM historical romance. Out on June 4th  “Stay there.” Leonhardt placed his hand on her ass and pressed down. A vulnerable position -- facedown on the bed, bottom up, it emphasized that new strange place inside her that responded to him. Off balance in an instant, quivering, Faith shut her eyes and waited for his next command. Liquid seeped from her cleft. After a few seconds, a familiar scratching told her he was redoing some of the writing on her bottom.  This excerpt is from my next release - Rough Surrender - a historical BDSM set in Cairo 1910 Out June 4th from Lyrical Press. On sale for the first week at 50% off the normal price See my "books" tab for a longer excerpt. Or go to the website below Joining six sentence sunday can be fun! To join in, and find other participating writers, go here six sentence sunday On twitter use the hashtag #sixsunday  My Rough Surrender website is here
Adults Only - 18 Years Plus
He’d never found a woman, he didn’t have to pay, who showed a true inclination for what he craved. Yet here was Faith, a wholesome normal woman who’d liked being dominated. Unorthodox and lovely and one of the most intriguing ladies he’d ever met. She wasn’t afraid to break the rules, and if she hadn’t done so earlier, he’d not be here, in her bedroom with this soft arousing bundle of femininity in his arms. Maybe, after all, there wasn’t anything wrong with him and his desires? With one hand on her head and the other cradling her rounded bottom, emotions churned to the surface inside him -- both an overwhelming tenderness and a powerful need to spread her out on the bed and do everything to her body he could imagine. 
This excerpt is from my next release - Rough Surrender - a historical BDSM set in Cairo 1910. Out June 4th from Lyrical Press
See my "books" tab for a longer excerpt. Joining six sentence sunday can be fun! To join in, and find other participating writers, go here six sentence sunday On twitter use the hashtag #sixsunday  Here's an excerpt from 31 Flavors that's on the kinky side. To be in the draw to win an ARC copy (Advance Reader Copy which has a watermark on it) leave a comment and follow my blog, Keyboard Fandango. Blurb: There are some things in life you have to try before you know how they will affect you. After 5 years of awful sex, I was ready. Bondage and spanking had always featured in my fantasies, and one day, I convinced my husband to try them. That day was a turning point. Ice cream comes in many flavors and that’s us too -- not vanilla, maybe not Rocky Road either. We can be a combination or make up our own and no one has the right to judge us. But there will always be one question that tears at my soul: Will my husband, Nick, ever be happy with what I crave? Release Date for 31 Flavors is Valentine's Day * * * * * What the hell possessed me to agree to this? We have a support post right smack in the middle of our living room. It’s always been a nuisance. I look up at my arms stretched above me. What an understatement now. My wrists are cuffed together then secured to the post with a rope. I’m naked and Nick has just walked back in the room with a bowl from the kitchen and an evil look in his eye. He still has his clothes on, jeans and polo shirt, and the contrast is disturbing in some nerve wracking way. I yank, trying to free my arms. I’m good and stuck. If I want to hide my body from him, I can’t. My breasts are out there in plain view, exposed and vulnerable. A familiar tightness gnaws inside me, like a hundred little bugs scratching at me, begging to get loose. If things go wrong, I’ll panic again. “Relax,” he tells me, but the mischievous sparkle doesn’t fade from his eyes. “I won’t touch them with my mouth until you ask me to.” Yeah right. “If I don’t?” He lowers himself onto his knees and gives me a steady look. “Then I won’t.” With a smirk, he lifts an ice cube from the bowl. “But you will.” My eyes must be wide as saucers as I watch him approach my nipples with the cube. Futilely, I lean to the side, trying to get away. The dull pain from the handcuffs reminds me that I asked for this. I take a deep breath and remain still. The ice cube hits my nipple and I gasp and flinch back. God damn that’s cold. “Look at it, Sid. Look at how hard they are.” I look down and see my rosy pink nipples, firm and pointy like little targets for a curious mouth. I pull against the cuffs again. Oh please let him fulfill his promise not to touch them. He circles one nipple with the ice and the water drips down my belly, leaving tingles in its wake. Then he moves to the other nipple. I’m surprised to feel a slight stirring between my legs. My mouth opens. Mesmerized, I watch his fingers only an inch away from me, my skin, my areola. The ice doesn’t hurt. And it definitely doesn’t tickle. Goose bumps dot along my breasts. A drop of water hangs from one nipple. I imagine his soft tongue licking it off and I feel a rush of heat to my middle. Nick looks me in the eye, excitement brimming in the depths. “I can warm them up for you. All you have to do is ask.” His warm mouth on my nipples. I shudder. The stirring between my legs becomes a little hotter, melting like the ice. If he put his fingers on my lower lips, would they come away wet? I never have thoughts like this. “Okay,” I rasp. “You can lick them.” The way he studies my breasts as if wondering where to start, creeps me out a bit. Knotted with anxiety, with my very skin constricting, I stop breathing and clench my fingers. The handcuffs clink. But he doesn’t touch me. He exhales a warm breath and heat swirls around my nipples, shooting through my body like hot little sparks. I moan and strain toward his mouth. “More.” He looks up at me. “Who’s in charge here?” I bite down on my lip to keep back a smart-ass remark. But he obliges me and blows hot air on the nipple. Then his tongue inches out, softly flicking the tip. First one then the other. I can’t stop staring at him teasing me, his mouth near me. It’s so novel for this to be pleasurable, so wonderful, and every little tingle is mimicked below. My need rises to a fever pitch. He swirls his tongue around each nipple, warming me to my core. I squeeze my thighs together and, for once, the idea of him taking me inside his mouth and sucking is exactly what I want. After one last lick, he sits back and looks me over. His gaze heats me up as much as his tongue did. My breasts seem heavier, fuller. A sly smirk touches his face then he rises. “I’ll be right back,” he says and disappears upstairs. Apprehension fills me. What is he doing now? My arms are starting to ache. My knees are getting sore. I wriggle to get more comfortable but it’s useless. I’m stuck until Nick finds it in his heart to release me. This thrills me at the same time as frightening me. I can always say “red”, I remind myself. It’s like a mantra now. * * * * * Would you pose semi-naked for a book cover? To be in the running for the giveaway of the ARC copy, comment, pretty please, then follow my blog. The model for our book is Leanna Velez, a body-building friend of my co-author. Pretty brave? Maybe you'd keep your clothes on? This draw is open for 48 hours from posting and the winner will be selected via www.random.org/ If you want to see a sexy yet funny excerpt from 31 Flavors click here for the striptease excerpt. I got this a while ago but have been on a bit of a beach holiday so here it is in delayed action.
My release date for Lust plague is the 27th of March. And here, to celebrate, is a snippet. For the zombie lovers. * * * * * The steam cycle grumbled slowly down the street, weaving in a wide arc around the zombie, who tangled his feet and fell. A dead donkey lay on its side with a small cart still strapped to it by a harness. They swerved left at the end of the street and into a narrower one. A swarm of zombies hobbled toward them -- footpath to footpath, an almost unbroken line. “Hang on!” Sten accelerated, the front wheel lifted, then thumped down, stirring up swirling dust. Engine screaming they headed for the far right of the zombie pack. With Sten's arms either side, Kaysana could only grip a fistful of the trouser fabric over his thighs and do exactly what he'd said -- hang on tight. A gun would be nice. Shooting something would be even better. Arms, black fingers, stretched toward them, heads turned, the growling and moans penetrated the cycle's glass and metal. Dead eyes swiveled and tracked them. Nothing seemed to register to the zombies except them -- pumping, breathing, living bodies. The gap ahead narrowed between footpath and a brown building wall. With a teeth-cracking thud the cycle mounted the footpath. A zombie appeared, clawed at the glass, went under the wheel, shrieking. Oh, hell! The cycle bumped, slewed and tilted, then rumbled over the top. Blackened blood splatted the windscreen, lower left. They zoomed through the thinning crowd of undead. The street ahead was bare. The cries dissipated. The blood dribbled down, tendrils spreading sideways with the buffeting of air like a spider web spun of darkness. 
Here's a scene from 31 Flavors that got excised with extreme prejudice and didn't make it into the final version. Leia made me take it out because she said Sidney would never have allowed this. Leia Shaw is my co-author on 31 Flavors, a contemporary BDSM romance, and since this story is based heavily on a real person...I gave in. By the way, up there is the cover featuring Leanna Velez, a friend of Leia's who is a body-builder, and, good friend that she is...she volunteered to be photographed in her underwear and tied up for our book. But, here for your enjoyment is the uncut, cut scene! Sidney has just had a chuckle at Nick after a small accident, but she's still tied up to the kitchen tap. Adults Only - 18 Plus ***** “I’m sorry I laughed. You okay?” “Honey.” He looks sideways at me. Somehow his expression conveys both dark seriousness and amusement. “You just earned yourself extra punishment.” “Umm.” I did? “How’s your hands?” “Good.” He’s not letting me go? Excitement climbs a notch in my veins. I eye the spatula. Truly the flat blue end on it looks promising. I can’t help doing a tiny wiggle. Confidence back in his stride, he goes to the fridge and with a rustle of plastic gets something. “Nick! Whatever’s in there is for eating. Not…not.” A flat grin plastered across his face, he returns and pokes me. Cold! “Stop! Nick!” I dodge, laughing, as best I can but the thing -- which turns out to be a cucumber -- gets applied to my belly and my breasts and then he holds me down and slips it along my cleft. “Nick!” “Not for putting up inside your wet little pussy? Hmm? Stick out your ass.” Before I can reply he steps away and smacks me with the spatula right on the crease of thigh and bottom. “Ow!” His hand gripping my hip also has the cucumber, but at least the vegetable has warmed up a bit. My giggling returns as he lays a series of fiery smacks all over my butt. There will be marks left, I’m sure. By the umpteenth smack I’m going hazy and I arch my back out and up some more, seeking that odd fusion of pain and pleasure that sits there waiting for me. I sigh. A few more swats and he swipes his fingers along my folds, wiggles some inside, deep, then slips them out and in with my moisture. “You’re soaked down here,” he says distantly, painting my skin with coolness. I don’t care at all, lost in a foggy land where all is right. No more smacking. I lean on my forearms as he makes me move my stomach away from the counter. I feel him get down between my legs. There’s a thump as maybe his back hits the cupboard door then his broad hands are on my thighs, parting me. Heat engulfs my clit. “Ohh.” I moan and push into his mouth, still with my elbows braced in the sink, with my butt hot and the strong beat of my pulse spreading throughout me. My flesh is infused with fire and lust and wet molten lava that seeks out my little clit. It pumps up, filling. Blood. Hotness. Delicious slippery tongue. The cucumber probes at my entrance, then he pushes it up, up inside until I feel as if I’ll burst. A fridge and food thing inside me. I want to say no, but can’t, won’t. God. Too much. I’m filled to the very top. The coldness wars inside with my warmth, making me more aware of precisely where he’s put it. He grips my clit in teeth and swipes that tongue across the top. I bunch my fists and arch into him, thighs straining. His hand splays across my belly, while I strive and push toward Nick’s mouth and his wriggling tongue that’s found every nerve in my clit and wakened it. The cucumber goes in, out, adding its forceful pressure to my walls. I clamp down onto the chill hardness, quiver and shut my eyes, pull on the tap to create tension. I’m here, trapped, for him to pleasure. In and out, lick, wriggle of wet tongue and then, I come, and goddamn come, hurtling into white space. My legs and tummy jerk as I moan at the exquisite explosion of my senses. I settle, slowly, falling almost into the sink with my head laying on my wrists. I pant and recover, listening to the slithery metal sounds of a zip undoing and then the shuffle of Nick shedding his clothes. “Now,” he whispers huskily at my ear, his hands on my shoulders. “I get to perform.” ***** Hmmm, I still think we should have kept this scene. 31 Flavors is due out on Valentine's Day as an ebook. Leia's website: http://www.leiashaw.com/  Adults Only excerpt for 18 plus
Here's my six sentences from Iron Dominance, my BDSM erotic romance published by Loose Id. ***** Her breasts, round and inviting, swung free. The nipples shrank, wrinkling up into perky pinkish buttons. “My question.” He found a small bunch of red grapes, examined Claire, naked apart from the opened jacket, all the way from her knees up. Too tempting. He put a hand above the twisted cloth at her knee and ran it up toward the delicious territory between her legs where the light tuft of pubic hair came to a point. ***** Thanks for stopping by to read my Six Sentences. Each week, the new listing of Six Sentence Sunday (SSS) blogs go live at 9 am (EST) each Sunday. This is a great way to find new authors to follow or read! For a list of this week's participants in the SSS blog tour, go to http://www.sixsunday.com/. Search #sixsunday on Twitter, too! |
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Copyright Cari Silverwood 2011. All rights reserved. No part of these publications may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author.
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 AuthorCari Silverwood is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling writer of kinky darkness or sometimes of dark kinkiness, depending on her moods and the amount of time she's spent staring into the night. Follow Cari Silverwood on...
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