Well, hello October!


I can’t believe it’s October already and that means all things spooky, with Hallowe’en just around the corner… So of course, you know what’s coming. The zombies are shuffling out of their summer-long hibernation to get up to some more mischief – just in case you’ve been missing them, here’s a little teaser from Zombie Erotoclypse. And if you want some more, they’ll be putting in an appearance at K D Grace’s Things That Go Hump in the Night on 8th October and later in the month the delightful Sexy Librarian, Rose Caraway, will be featuring one of the Zombie Erotoclypse stories on the Kiss Me Quick’s podcast.

With a whole month ahead of us, I’m sure there’ll be more – just watch this space!





Excerpt from The Peeping Zom, one of the stories in Zombie Erotoclypse:

Zombie Stanley is desperate to have his wicked way with a healthy, flesh-and-blood woman – so when he hears a woman’s laughter coming from an abandoned house, he has to find out what’s happening…


At first he could see hardly anything at all.  The flame from a single candled glared in a pool of black. But as his eye gradually became accustomed to the dim light, he was able to make out the shapes of furniture.  And then bodies.  There were two people in what was obviously a bedroom, caught in a standing embrace, arms round each other and mouths locked in a kiss.  The woman had her back to the window and by the gold glint of her hair in the candlelight, Stan felt sure she was the Blonde from the jeep. He bit his lip as an appreciative grunt started to form in his throat.  He couldn’t afford to be caught now, not before he’d seen what was going on.

The man’s arms were working their way up and down the woman’s back and Stan could see her pushing her ass out as his hands skimmed the top of her butt cheeks.  She was horny as hell by his estimation.  They stumbled slightly so now Stan could see them both side on.  They were fully clothed, the Blonde in the same frayed jeans and scruffy tank she’d been wearing earlier, the guy in cargo pants and a dark T-shirt.  Stan had a better view of the kiss now, as well.  Open mouth to open mouth, the guy pushing down hard against her face, no doubt pressing his tongue deep inside, as she explored his mouth in turn.  The Blonde moaned and anchored her hands in the man’s unruly black hair.

After a minute or so, the guy stepped back from the kiss and dropped into a sitting position on a low bed to the left of the window.  He lounged back against the wall with his arms folded behind his head.

“Strip for me, babe,” he said, low and guttural.  “Show me what you got.”

Amazon UK


Barnes & Noble

Pow! It’s Shibari Girl!


If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, or even here, you can’t have missed the recent release of The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica, edited by Rose Caraway for Cleis Press. This jumbo anthology contains my story Pow! It’s Shibari Girl! and I think it’s one of the most fun stories I’ve written to date.

When I first read the Sexy Librarian’s call for submissions I was thrilled! Rose wanted fun, super-hot genre erotica – with a sprinkling of kink, bondage and role play thrown in. I knew instantly I needed a super heroine that would stand out from the crowd – so I created Shibari Girl! Unassuming college co-ed Mallory by day, rope-slinging supergirl by night, she’s an irresistible package with the potential for good-versus-evil tied up in some hot shibari scenes.

Shibari Girl! patrols the city by night with her trusty shibari ropes and ties up any villains she comes across. She fights for justice, on the side of good, dedicated to serving the citizens. But one day she’ll meet her match! When the notorious diamond thief Crabman takes a side swipe at Jimmy Jack’s Jewel Warehouse, the scene is set for the ultimate confrontation between good and bad – and there’s far more at stake for Shibari Girl! than twenty-two-and-a-half million dollars’ worth of rough diamonds…

19566715_sHere’s an excerpt:

“We had some good times, Mallory,” he says, and suddenly his mouth is on mine.

For a second I’m caught unawares by how good his kiss tastes, but then the superhero in me takes over. As I work my tongue into his mouth, I push back against him and hook one of my legs behind his knee. He goes down onto his back with a grunt, pulling me with him, but I’m sitting astride him now and I still hold the advantage.

“They were good times, Tobi, but you got greedy.”

I peel his Peachy Club T-shirt up his chest and he wriggles out of it. It’s evident he’s been putting in the hours in the gym and if circumstances were different… I lick my lips.

“I’ll split the diamonds with you, Mallory. We could get away somewhere secluded, just the two of us. Things could be like they were before.”

Am I tempted by his offer? Not until I flip him over and see the small tattoo of Shibari Girl! on the back of his shoulder. It looks fresh.

“You became Crabman to attract my attention?” I say.

“It was the only way. You usually look right through me. But now…”

He smells so good but then I remember the looks on Commissioner Thomas’ and the store manager’s faces.

“Tobi, you broke the law and you’re going down.”

I grab his arms and though he struggles I’m too quick for him. In six simple knots I have him trussed and naked in a classic Shibari tie. His wrists are bound to his ankles and a corset of rope work holds him in a fixed kneeling position. He grunts and struggles as I work on him but as my fingers run up and down his back and across his chest, the grunts turn to moans and I can’t help but notice his burgeoning erection.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he whispers.

The memories flood back: Tobi swinging in a rope cradle with my mouth on his cock or the two of us, bound hip to hip in pneumatic motion. I’m not supposed to be getting turned on but I am. My breath hitches and his cock twitches in response. I clip a D-ring into the nest of knots at the small of his back and winch him up off the floor.

“Come on, Mallory,” he moans. “For old time’s sake before you turn me in?”

I look at how the red ropes bite his tanned skin, knowing the marks will remain for days and suddenly I know I’ve got to have him. Commissioner Thomas and his denizens can wait. Tobi won’t be getting anything like this for a long time where he’s going and, for the sake of a shared past, I can lend him a couple of hours. I secure the main rope to an iron ring set in the wall and then I take half a dozen more ropes and work up a cradle around him. The result is that now Tobi is swinging gently, several feet above the floor, in an armchair position. He watches me intently as I work, but he doesn’t speak.

“Where are the diamonds?” I demand roughly, not wanting him to guess what’s coming his way.


Buy it here:

Cleis Press
Barnes & Noble
Google Play 


My Skin is Burning – A Snog for Sommer Blog Hop!


Today I’m excited to be joining the Smut for Good Snog for Sommer blog hop – does that sound like a tongue twister to you? Trying saying five times fast… Now, once you’ve untangled your tongue, let me explain. The wonderful crew over at SmutUK have put together a fundraising bloghop to support fellow erotica writer Sommer Marsden. Sommer’s currently facing all of our worst nightmares, having to confront cancer within her family – and right now, they need all the support we can give them.

So what I’d like you to do is one, two three or four of the following:

  1. Read the kissing excerpt below taken from my story “Summer in December”, which appeared in the Summer Loving anthology.
  2. Click through to the Smut for Good page and leave a donation, however small, to help Sommer Marsden and her family.
  3. Leave a comment below for your chance to win a real book – ie one that’s made of paper, not electrical current! (I’ll give the winner a list to choose from – but it will one the anthologies I have a story in.)
  4. Buy a copy of Summer Loving if you haven’t already done so!

I know, it’s a lot to ask of you – but take your pick. And please also send some positive vibes Sommer’s way, if you believe in that sort of thing!



PS I forgot to put a closing time for the competition when this post went live – so I’ll keep it open until Wednesday, September 17th, midday BST! Keep those entries coming!

Excerpt: Summer in December

Andi works as a chef at a research station in the Antarctic. To get her boss’s attention, she decides to go skinny dipping in the freezing cold sea. Maybe not such a good idea…

My skin is burning.  My fingers and toes are pain like nothing on this earth.  My teeth chatter like a pneumatic drill’s going off in my skull.  Someone’s rubbing warm hands up and down one of my calves, massaging my foot.  Someone’s talking to me.

“Can you hear me now?  Andi, can you hear me?”

I think I nod but I can’t really feel my body.

“What the fuck were you thinking?  You nearly killed yourself.”

I’ve never heard Al this angry, even when I ruined a whole day’s work by putting the oven on extra high instead of low.

“I’m okay,” I say but all I hear is chattering teeth and spluttering noises.

I’m wrapped in fleecy blanket and I look around.  We’re in a bedroom and it isn’t mine.  It must be Al’s.  Underneath the blanket, I realize I’m naked.  I see my underwear in a pool of water on the floor.

My whole body’s trembling and shaking.  Any deliberate movement is completely beyond my control.

“Jesus, I’ve gotta get you warmed up fast,” says Al.

I’m naked on his bed.  I have ideas about getting warm.  At least my brain does; I’m not sure my body is quite there.

“Sh-sh-sh-shared b-b-body heat,” I manage through my teeth.

It’s true – it works.  It’s what they tell you to do in the safety manuals.  It was simply a sensible suggestion that could save my life.  It had nothing to do with the thought of Al having to get naked too and press his hot body against the length of my cold one.

His look says that he knows exactly what I’m playing at.

Silently, he strips off his clothes and joins me on the bed, pulling the fleecy blanket around us and the rest of the bed covers up as far as our shoulders.  He smells good in the confined space.  Yes, a little sweaty.  After all, he did have to pick me up and carry me up the shore and into the station, him fully dressed in a 750 fill power down jacket.  But spicy and masculine in a way that makes me want suck the air around him and drink it up.

I press myself against him and this, I think, is when I finally breach his defenses.  He lets out a long, low moan and wraps his arms tight around me.  His body feels red hot in comparison to mine and, hell, I want to stay just pressed against him like this forever.

“You didn’t need to do that to get my attention.  You had it from the get go.”

I put both my trembling hands up to his cheeks and look deep into his chestnut eyes.  I have to wonder if I’m delirious from the cold shock.  But he’s smiling at me and there’s a hunger in his expression.  A hunger for me.

“Your mouth looks cold,” he whispers.

His lips on mine feel like a hot brand and his tongue touches mine like warm velvet.


Buy it now! Buy it here:

All Romance
Amazon US—Kindle
Amazon US—paperback
Amazon UK

Want to play with fire? Take the Heat release day


Another release day has crept up behind me and shouted ‘boo’ in my ear! How could I have forgotten that today’s the day that Take the Heat hits the street? This is a steamy, sizzling anthology full of bad boys, smart girls and criminal intent, all put together by the queen of dark erotica, Skye Warren – and it features a fabulous line-up of writers, including Pam Godwin, Shoshanna Evers, Trent Evans and Giselle Renarde. It’s already been garnering 5-star reviews and I’ve been really thrilled as a couple of times my own story, “Playing with Fire”, has been singled out for praise.

TakeTheHeat-500x750Take the Heat

The ultimate bad boys, criminals capture our attention and awaken our darkest desires. Celebrate the illicit in this romantic suspense anthology, where handcuffs are used for more than play. These stories are shocking, sexy, and thought-provoking.

In New York Times Bestseller Skye Warren’s “Magnolia Hotel”, meet the heroine who pays her brother’s debt to a loan shark—who happens to be her childhood crush. Find out if the jury made the right decision in “Acquitted” by award-winning author Giselle Renarde. Explore a dark and sensual psychology with New York Times Bestseller Pam Godwin in “Unlawful Seduction”.

New York Times Bestseller Skye Warren – Magnolia Hotel
Cynthia Rayne – Captivated
New York Times Bestseller Pam Godwin – Unlawful Seduction
Sheri Savill – Slipknot
New York Times Bestseller Shoshanna Evers – This Might Hurt A Bit
Candy Quinn – The Bombshell
Tamsin Flowers – Playing with Fire
Elizabeth Coldwell – Disposing of Donnie
Audrey Lusk – Surprise Witness
Trent Evans – Last Day
Giselle Renarde – Acquitted

Ride the edge of desire and see if you can TAKE THE HEAT…

“Wicked, deadly, seductive…” – KT Book Reviews

Excerpt from “Playing with Fire”

Aston Moore sat alone at the head of the table. He was dressed in black from head to toe. His jacket hung on the back of the chair, and his top few shirt buttons were undone to reveal a curl of dark chest hair. In other circumstances Cassandra would have found his looks attractive, but this evening the sight of him made her tremble.

“Ah, Cassandra, come in,” he said, waving her forward. Then he looked across at the mâitre d’, who was now standing just inside the door. “Send someone to clear away this mess, would you?”

The man nodded and disappeared, leaving Cassandra alone with the bastard who would be her pimp. How had it come to this? She bit her lip and stared at the floor.

“You scrub up well, but you’ll get nowhere if you can’t look your johns in the eye.”

She raised her head and stared him in the face, hot fury coursing through her body in place of fear now.

Moore’s smile was disarming, but she still glared at him.

“It’s time to show me what you’ve got,” he said, shifting in his chair as he pushed it back from the table.

“Business first,” said Cassandra. “How much will be wiped off my sister’s debt for every…”

“…every trick you turn?”

“Every time I have sex with one of your johns.” Even just saying the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

“I can’t tell you that until I’ve sampled the goods,” he replied.

“Do I get paid for this time?”

“Listen, honey. I’m doing you a big favor here. Don’t push your luck.”

He was doing her a favor?

The door opened, and a waitress came in. She started clearing the table, and while she was in the room, Cassandra and Aston Moore contemplated each other in silence. A shifty, nervous silence, with tension thickening the air. The waitress seemed to pick up on it, clattering the crockery with nervous hands as she loaded her tray. By the time she left, Cassandra’s heart was thundering in her chest.

Moore stood and went over to the door. There was a quiet double click, and Cassandra realized he’d locked it.

“Here?” she said. “There’s no bed.”

“Perhaps I could take you bent over the table,” said Moore. He advanced toward her, and Cassandra stepped away. “Or I could sit back and relax in the chair while you worked on your knees. What do you think? How would you pleasure me if I was a paying client?”

Cassandra’s mouth was dry. Words wouldn’t form, but she could hardly think of what to say anyway. All afternoon she’d been imagining what she would need to do once she was alone with this man, a man whom she quite literally despised, but through all those hours her mind had gone blank every time she reached this moment. And now he was asking her to take the initiative.

Melly’s gaunt face flashed before her eyes.

Swallowing her pride, her nerves and her distaste, she took a step toward Aston Moore, who stood his ground, watching her with an amused expression on his face.

“If you were my client, I’d ask you what your pleasure was,” she said. She’d dropped her voice an octave, making it low and throaty. She put her hands on his shoulders and let them rove back and forth around his neck and down onto his chest. “What can I do to make you happy, Aston? To make you feel good?”19566715_s

She dropped a hand down and pressed it against his groin. He was semihard already, and his cock twitched at her touch. Moore looked momentarily surprised, but then he grinned.

“I’m tired, Cassandra, and a little jaded. I’ve had more women than you could ever imagine. I want something special, something I’ll remember, that’ll make me want to come back for more.”

Cassandra had no idea what to do next. She was winging it. Her sexual experience heretofore came nowhere close to this. What the hell did a man like Aston Moore want? Or need? Slowly and deliberately she unbuttoned his shirt, sliding her fingers under the cool cotton and scraping her nails over his taut abs. She heard his breath catch in his throat as she eased the fabric out from the waistband of his pants. As she pushed his shirt collar back over his shoulders, she pressed her lips against his ear.

“Bitter or sweet?” she whispered.

“Bitter?” he said, sounding unsure.

“Light or dark?” she whispered.

“Dark.” She could hear the smile in his voice. He was intrigued.

“Obey or be obeyed?” she whispered.

“Obey.” He seemed to falter, but he left it at obey.

“Dangerous or safe?” she whispered.

“Dangerous,” he said, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking her head back so he could see her face. “But I think you’re playing with fire, Cassandra.”

“Undoubtedly,” she said.

“And someone could get burnt.”

“I hope so.”

Then she took possession of his mouth, a rough, savage kiss with no concessions to his position as the man, the john, the paying customer, the pimp.

Amazon UK

Lost in The Big Book of Submission!



Looking for some super spicy reading as you soak up the last of the summer sun? Then can I suggest The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales, edited by sexy story supremo Rachel Kramer Bussel and published by Cleis Press? Page after sizzling page of slinky subs and hot doms, pushing each other’s buttons and playing power games… Just be careful you don’t overheat!

Superotica is the latest stop on The Big Book of Submission blog tour so now it’s my turn to tell you about my story in this pantechnicon of kinky delights. “The Lost Suitcase” is a little tale of everybody’s holiday nightmare-that moment when you discover that your suitcase has gone to Miami while you’ve arrived in Los Angeles. But the loss of this particular suitcase didn’t mean the owner had to go out and purchase a new toothbrush and swimsuit. This was the case with the toys in it-and given you know which book this is in, you’ll know what sort of toys I’m talking about!

Sometimes we’re all faced with the need to improvise and that’s what happens here. After a trip to Target, this enterprising Dom has restocked his arsenal (no pun intended!) and is ready for action!

TF1Here’s an excerpt:

“Bend over the bed.”

I knew the position he meant. I knelt beside the bed and leaned forward until my ass was bent over the edge.  I loved this moment-and I hated it.  He knew it and he made me wait until the anticipation of what might be coming next had me squirming.  I wanted it and I didn’t want it in equal measures.

A sharp shock of pain, a lingering after burn.

“There were so many things on the shelves at Target to choose from,” he said.  “I could have bought a leather belt.  Electric cables.  A table tennis paddle. A canoe paddle.  A wooden spoon.  A ruler.  Let me count the ways I could mark your skin.”

All the while he continued striking my ass, first one side, then the other, building up the intensity slowly.  It was his special skill.  I couldn’t begin to guess the object slapping hard and flat against my flesh and after a while I couldn’t even process his words.  I lost myself in the physical sensation, living and breathing only for the moment when he would transform the pain into pleasure with a slick of lube and the work of a finger or two.

Finally he tossed his implement aside, and I heard a metallic clash on the tiled floor.

“What?” I gasped.

“A skillet,” he said.  “They had it on special and we could do with a new one.”


Want to follow the rest of the tour? Here’s the schedule.

You can buy The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales at:

Amazon UK

Cleis Press

Ahoy! She Speaks! Rose Caraway interviews Tamsin Flowers


Great news! Yesterday afternoon I was a virgin. Now I’m not!!! (And you know, don’t you, I’m not talking about sex!) In fact, the particular cherry I popped yesterday was being interviewed. The gorgeous Sexy Librarian Rose Caraway, and I spent an hour together, separated only by the Atlantic Ocean and an entire continent, having some frisky, frolicsome chatter about zombies, erotica, slapping noises, dentists and “POW! It’s Shibari Girl!” – my latest story in her new anthology from Cleis PressThe Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica.  And not only did I get interviewed, I got my very own card in Rose’s special Library of Erotica filing system! (See above.)

Want to hear what we both had to say? Head right over to The Sexy Librarian Podcast to hear it in full.

And I’ll be bringing you an excerpt from “POW! It’s Shibari Girl!” very soon!




Bang on Target! An exclusive preview of Honeytrap…


Here’s a little sample from the current work in progress, Honeytrap. What’s it all about? One word – sexspionage! Christie Russell joins the Honeytrap division, on a mission to seduce and destroy enemies of the state. But only if she can survive training with the incorrigible Jack Masters first!

Join them at the shooting range, where Jack’s teaching Christie how to fire a gun…


Jack pressed the button again and the target trundled back down to the far end of the range.

‘Stand back and watch,’ he said.

Christie did as she was bid and Jack picked up a far bigger handgun than the one she was using and assumed the position. He squinted for a second and then let of five shots in quick succession. Christie felt the report of the gunfire echo through the range and thud through her chest. Jack put the gun down almost immediately and took of his ear guards.

‘That’s how you do it,’ he said.

Christie pressed the button to bring the target in. There was one hole, just to the left of centre of the target’s chest, right through its heart.

‘One out of five,’ she said.

‘Five out of five,’ said Jack. ‘Bang on target.’


‘Every fortnight for fifteen years. Yes, seriously.’

Christie picked up her gun again.

‘Breathe slowly,’ said Jack. ‘Bring your heart rate down so your pulse doesn’t make you tremor.’

Christie stood for a moment at the rail with her gun hand hanging loose by her side. She relaxed her shoulders, softened her knees, and paused between breaths. When she felt perfectly still, she raised her arms and lined the gun up once more with the target. She remained still and quiet again, letting her body settle. Breathe in. Breathe out.

She smelled Jack close to her before she felt his arms come from behind to steady hers. His chin came over her shoulder and his face almost pressed up against hers as he aligned himself as much as possible to check her aim.

‘A bit higher,’ he said.

Christie struggled to keep her breathing slow and deep. The muscles of her arms locked as she wrestled her concentration back to the target.


It was almost a whisper, brushing against her ear like a breath. She loosed two rounds in quick succession and stopped.

‘Better,’ he said.

He slid one of his arms forward along hers and took the gun from her hand, putting it down on the flat, narrow top of the railing in front of them. Christie took a deep breath, revelling in the familiar scent, and felt his breath, warm and moist, on her neck. She didn’t care that this wasn’t supposed to be happening. As soon as she was close to this man she was overcome with desire, intoxicated by the smell of him, drawn to the heat of his body.

‘Put your hands on the rail,’ he said, so close to her ear that she could feel the movement of his lips.24435530_s

‘Yes, sir.’ She leaned forward, placing her hands on the rail to support her weight.

Jack’s hands dropped to her waist and she felt the warmth of his chest against her back. He kissed the side of her neck and Christie felt a tightening low within her. Her legs turned to water and all she could think about was Jack’s hands moving up inside her shirt. But he kept them still where they were, quietly moving his lips up to the junction of her jawbone and her throat. Christie moaned and arched her neck back. She wanted to turn her head and kiss him properly but something inside told her not to.

In a blur of movement Jack’s arm was across her throat, constricting her windpipe and crushing her against his chest. She raised her hands to try and pull his arm away but he was too strong for her.

‘Jack!’ she blurted out through gritted teeth.

He pushed her away and stepped back. She turned to look at him, gasping for breath, all her muscles clenched tight with anger.

‘By the time I’ve finished training you, Christie, something like that will never happen,’ he said. ‘Now, take another shot.’

With her breathing still ragged, Christie picked up the gun again. She tried to lock her arms in the firing position but her hands were shaking. She closed her eyes to centre herself but her heart was racing. The air was drenched with the smell of Jack.


Two more shots rang out but the paper target didn’t flinch.

‘That’s how you’ll feel when you need to take a shot in the field,’ said Jack. ‘It’ll be too fast. You’ll be frightened. If you don’t pull the trigger, you’ll take a bullet. Reload and do it again.’

And again. And again. Jack made her shoot at her paper assailant until the muscles in her arms were burning, her eyes could hardly see straight and her ears were ringing with the sound of shot after shot, despite the ear protectors. Finally, she fumbled badly as she reloaded and dropped the gun. It skittered under the rail and out onto the range.


She slumped against the guard rail to catch her breath and then bent down to reach underneath it.

‘Leave it, Christie. Never go past the rail.’

He caught hold of her upper arm and pulled her up, toward him. Exhausted, she couldn’t quite get her balance and leaned in against his chest.

‘Sorry,’ she said, trying to pull away. But he held her steady.

‘For what?’

Jack’s eyes…so blue.

‘For not being the girl you thought I was.’

She tried to turn her head but his gaze held her still.

‘Christie, I didn’t take you on for the girl I thought—know—you are. I took you on for the girl I can make you into. But you’ve got to stop fighting me every step of the way. You’ve got to make up your mind if this is what you want.’

‘It’s what I want, Jack.’

Christie didn’t even have to think about it. Then his lips were on hers and her tongue came out to meet his just as quickly as he pushed it against her mouth. His skin was hot under her fingers as she pulled up his polo shirt to caress his back and he moaned as they stumbled together against the rail.

‘There are only so many times a man can stop himself,’ he murmured against her cheek.

‘Then don’t,’ said Christie. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and slipped her hands down the back of his jeans. His hips ground into hers, pushing his erect cock against her stomach.

‘Turn round and bend over the rail,’ he said.

Blood roaring in her ears, breath rasping in her throat, Christie draped herself over the guard rail. Jack stood behind her and slowly pushed her short skirt up her thighs and then over the curve of her arse. His hands caressed her buttocks, making her whimper as he slid her briefs down in the opposite direction.

‘God, your arse is a heartbreaker,’ he murmured.

Christie laughed but the sound of his flies unzipping slammed her right back into the moment. Fingers worked their way into her with ease—she was already wet. Damn it, she’d been wet when they got in the car to drive over here and Jack had done nothing since to make her dry up. With one hand he continued to finger her, while his other hand found its way up inside her blouse. He pushed her bra roughly up, over her breasts, and then caught one of them in his hand, pinching her nipple. Feeling the naked skin of his cock pressing against her thigh, Christie pushed her hips back against him so he would know what she wanted. As if he didn’t already…

I Can’t Get Enough of Tenille Brown!


July has been something of a whirlwind month for me – not only did I celebrate the release of the second installment of The Vampire Bond trilogy, The Scarlet Bond, I also had stories in three – yes, get that, three! – extraordinary anthologies from Cleis Press – Can’t Get Enough  edited by Tenille Brown, Bound for Trouble edited by Alison Tyler, and The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. And then of course, the incandescent Summer Loving antho, edited by Alison Tyler, came out to support Sommer Marsden and her family. If you haven’t bought a copy yet, please, please do – this one is important!

But today it’s all about one of the anthos, one which I, personally, can’t get enough of! The height of summer seems to have been the perfect time for the release of Tenille Brown’s fun-filled, super-steamy Can’t Get Enough. It’s perfect beach reading and an excellent primer for those hot summer nights when you simply feel…you can’t get enough. And I’m going to warm you up with an excerpt from my own story in the antho, ‘Those Damned Cobbles’. Enjoy!




Toward the end of the afternoon, you send me a text. I’m in the office and as I surreptitiously check my cell beneath the cover of my desk, your words set the heat rising within me.

Home already, waiting for you. But I can’t wait…

I know what that means. You’ve come home early; you’re lying on our bed, with your cock in your hand, your clothes strewn around the room, hurriedly discarded. For me, now the race is on. I’ve got to get back to you in time. Sometimes you can hold off long enough, but sometimes I’m simply too late. It’s a game we play and if I get home fast enough, sex is my reward.

I text you back.

I’ll be there.

I glance up at the clock; I’m contracted to sit in this chair for another fifteen minutes. I save the document I’m working on and power down my computer. Hoping no one will notice what I’m doing, I change my high heels for flats and get my bag ready to leave. My boss walks by my desk so I pretend to have my head down, reading an important paper. Thankfully he doesn’t stop to talk to me.

As soon as the minute hand reaches the vertical, I’m out of my chair and pulling on my jacket.

“Night all,” I call, as I hurry through the open-plan office toward the door.

Down in the parking garage I fumble with the combination lock on my bicycle. More haste, less speed—twice I get the numbers in the wrong order. But then the lock’s off and I strap my bag to the rack on the back. If only I had decided to bring the car this morning, I would have had a better chance of getting to you in time. Now I’m faced with a twenty-minute cycle ride, and I don’t want to be too exhausted at the other end for what you have planned.

I have to stand on the pedals to make it up the steep slope out of the office garage. I duck around the end of the barrier, waving at the security guard in his little box. Once I’m out on the street, it’s a downward slope and I’m able to settle back on the saddle to catch my breath. I love this old bike, but it’s hardly a racer. Several times you’ve offered to buy me something more aerodynamic, with a comfortable gel saddle and god knows how many gears, but I’m not interested. When I’d had this bike for a while, I christened it Barry. I’ve ridden miles sitting on Barry’s shiny leather saddle, which has been polished to a chestnut patina by the pumping action of my buttocks. And when I’m thinking of you as I ride, the hard, slippery saddle pushing up between my legs only adds to my anticipation.



You know what you want and you know who you want. Can’t Get Enough captures the intensity of those rapturous moments when passion takes over. Lauded eroticist Tenille Brown has curated a collection that captures the essence of irresistible desire in its many delightful forms. Girls (and boys!) just wanna have fun in Allison Wonderland’s joy-filled “Strip to My Lou.” Beatrix Ellroy’s “Before They Burn” shows just how memorably sexy an unexpected encounter in the middle of a work shift can be. A couple reveals sexual secrets that are both tender and a turn-on in Louise Blaydon’s “The End of Sensible.” An inspiring read, Can’t Get Enough is as good as it gets.

Buy links:

Cleis Press

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

Tenille Brown

Over the past ten years, Tenille Brown’s erotica has been featured online and in over 50 books, and her nonfiction writing was included in The Greenwood Encyclopedia of African American Writers. Her smut is featured online in various webzines and in over fifty print and ebook anthologies including Best Women’s Erotica, Chocolate Flava, 1 and 3, Curvy Girls, Going Down, Best Bondage Erotica, 2011 and 2012, Sapphic Planet, Suite Encounters, Open, Backdoor Pleasures and Best Lesbian Erotica 2013. The southern wife and mother writes for Mischief Books, drinks plenty of vodka, blogs at, and tweets @TheRealTenille.

Summer Loving: Summer in December


Here in the UK we’re having a heatwave and I gather it’s getting pretty hot in other places to! So it’s perfect timing for the release of an amazing new anthology, Summer LovingThat’s right – here in erotica land we’re all about Sommer-loving at the moment – and, no, that’s not a typo. Because this anthology has been brilliantly put together by erotica-uber-editor Alison Tyler to lend support to one of our own. Erotica writer Sommer Marsden’s family has been broadsided by cancer during the past 12 months; all the profits from Sommer Loving will go towards Sommer and her family. So please, please make sure you buy a copy and then spread the word to your family and friends so they can buy a copy, too.

So what’s it about? Here’s the blurb:

Summer speaks of balmy days, white-sand beaches, itsy-bitsy bikinis and romantic flings. The 20 sublime stories in this collection celebrate those decadent days and naughty nights with lots of sizzling summertime sex.

Erotic luminaries Donna George Storey, Sophia Valenti, Lucy Felthouse, Emerald, Jodie Griffin, May Deva, Teresa Noelle Roberts, A.M. Hartnett, Primula Bond, Sammi Lou Thorne, Elise Hepner, Tenille Brown, Tamsin Flowers, Kathleen Delaney-Adams, Thomas S. Roche, Cheyenne Blue, Delilah Night, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Justine Elyot, Angell Brooks, and Alison Tyler spin their sultriest stories ever.

Summer might only come once a year. But with this red-hot collection, you’re guaranteed to come all year round!


Alison Tyler did all the hard work collating and editing the stories, Willsin Rowe did the amazing cover that blasts us right back to the Summer of Love, and the ever-generous Selena Kitt handled the formatting and publishing jiggery-pokery! So a massive thank you to them, all the writers who so generously donated stories (including those who didn’t make it to the final cut) and anyone else who’s been involved… And a huge thank you to everyone who’s bought a copy so far.

And one last thing. I noticed that Superotica had been running a little low on home-grown Flowers recently – so here’s an excerpt from my story in Summer Loving, ‘Winter in December’. It’s all about midsummer’s day down in the Antarctic!

Winter in December

Call me a stickler for tradition but when it’s summer on the calendar, I like hot, and when it says winter, I want snow.  Which is just one of the reasons why I should never have taken a job as second chef at an Antarctic research station.  Yes, sure, there was snow in winter.  But it wasn’t hot in summer, it was cold, and it wasn’t summer in July, it was summer in December.  And when it should have been summer it was winter and even colder.  Doing your head in?  I live here and I can’t get my head around it.

And the other reason why I shouldn’t have taken the job?  Al, the delectable head chef and my boss, who sees me as nothing more than the girl who peels, chops and mashes the potatoes.  But then I didn’t know about Al when I took the job.

Between the two of us, we prep three meals a day for the thirty-five scientists that work at the research station, seven days a week, in two month rotations.  If you’ve ever worked a kitchen, you’ll know how hot and intense things get.  But if you work a kitchen with a guy who you can’t get out of you mind at the end of the shift, who you want to fuck senseless on the steel countertops and suck off in the walk-in cold store?  It’s a whole lot hotter and a whole lot more intense.

But Al doesn’t see me that way.  So I have to go into the cold store on my own to pour water on the flames.  I do that by working out how many potatoes I will have peeled by my next home leave.

Apart from Al and myself, the scientists are all Australian, so they get the summer in December thing.  But being weirded out by the seasons, that’s the one thing Al and I have in common.  Like today: it’s December twenty-first, the summer solstice.  It won’t even get dark but it’s still as cold as fuck.  The scientists have all gone on a two-day expedition, so it’s only me and Al, having an easy day, just quietly preparing things for the week ahead.  I know this is my one chance, so when Al suggests taking the evening off…

“What’s this?” says Al, when I put a glass down beside his computer, where he’s still working.

“Pina colada.  It’s midsummer, so we’re going to the beach.”

He gives me the sort of look generally reserved for pesky younger sisters.

“Taste it,” I say.

Two words irresistible to a chef.

Down on the beach, we kick snow into the water and Al suggests building a snowman rather than a sandcastle.  I know he’s humoring me now, wondering how long he has to stay here before going back to his work.  I watch him running along the edge of the water.  So hot with his dark jeans carelessly crumpled at the top of his snow boots, his narrow hips looking even narrower below the bulk of his down jacket.  The wind ruffles his black hair, his cheeks so rosy with cold that I want to lick them warm.  I desperately need him to notice me as something more than a potato processing drone.

It’s now or never.

“I’m going for a dip,” I yell, when he’s at the other end of the small, curved cove above which the research station sits.14767176_s

If this doesn’t make him sit up and notice, nothing will.

I shed my parka, kick off my boots and slide out of my pants.  I didn’t bring a bikini, so I’m wearing my most presentable matching underwear.  I know it’s going to hurt like hell when I take the plunge, so I can’t afford to pussyfoot at the edge.

I take a low, horizontal dive into the water.

Holy fuck!


My skin is burning.  My fingers and toes are pain like nothing on this earth.  My teeth chatter like a pneumatic drill’s going off in my skull.  Someone’s rubbing warm hands up and down one of my calves, massaging my foot.  Someone’s talking to me.

“Can you hear me now?  Andi, can you hear me?”

I think I nod but I can’t really feel my body.

“What the fuck were you thinking?  You nearly killed yourself.”

I’ve never heard Al this angry, even when I ruined a whole day’s work by putting the oven on extra high instead of low.

“I’m okay,” I say but all I hear is chattering teeth and spluttering noises.

I’m wrapped in fleecy blanket and I look around.  We’re in a bedroom and it isn’t mine.  It must be Al’s.  Underneath the blanket, I realize I’m naked.  I see my underwear in a pool of water on the floor.

My whole body’s trembling and shaking.  Any deliberate movement is completely beyond my control.

“Jesus, I’ve gotta get you warmed up fast,” says Al.

I’m naked on his bed.  I have ideas about getting warm.  At least my brain does; I’m not sure my body is quite there.

“Sh-sh-sh-shared b-b-body heat,” I manage through my teeth.

It’s true – it works.  It’s what they tell you to do in the safety manuals.  It was simply a sensible suggestion that could save my life.  It had nothing to do with the thought of Al having to get naked too and press his hot body against the length of my cold one.

His look says that he knows exactly what I’m playing at.

Silently, he strips off his clothes and joins me on the bed, pulling the fleecy blanket around us and the rest of the bed covers up as far as our shoulders.  He smells good in the confined space.  Yes, a little sweaty.  After all, he did have to pick me up and carry me up the shore and into the station, him fully dressed in a 750 fill power down jacket.  But spicy and masculine in a way that makes me want suck the air around him and drink it up.

I press myself against him and this, I think, is when I finally breach his defenses.  He lets out a long, low moan and wraps his arms tight around me.  His body feels red hot in comparison to mine and, hell, I want to stay just pressed against him like this forever…


Buy it now! Buy it here:

All Romance—you can buy the e-book for the very special price of 69 cents!
Amazon US—Kindle
Amazon US—paperback
Amazon UK



I Hate Sex (and, yes, the moon is made of blue cheese!)


I really can’t tell you how stoked I was to get a DM a few days ago from Rose Caraway, the Sexy Librarian herself! In her private twitter message, she told me that she was going to feature my story, ‘I Hate Sex’, which appears in Violet Blue’s Best Women’s Erotica 2014, on the Kiss Me Quick’s Erotica Podcast today. I’m so thrilled by this. It’s read by the wonderful Lucy Malone who has narrated the  Best Women’s Erotica 2014 audiobook – I’ve just listened to it and I have to say she’s done a really brilliant job.

You want to hear it for yourself? Head over to The Sexy Librarian’s Podcast or click on the link below.

I 8646673_sHate Sex by Tamsin Flowers: Libsyn Player

And because I’m so delighted by this, I’m just going to indulge myself in a little fangirl moment or two! Writing is, as you probably all know, a solitary occupation. I spend long hours grinding out the words on the laptop or scratching them onto the pages of my notebook in the hope that some day, somewhere along the line, a few people will read or hear my words and get something out of them.
However, the getting the words to the people part of the endeavor is anything but solitary. In this case, three amazing people helped to put I Hate Sex on the page and into your ears, so to show my appreciation to them, I want to give them each a little shout out here. If you don’t know about them or the rest of their work, follow some of the links and get acquainted!
Violet Blue is the editor of Best Women’s Erotica 2014 – so a massive thank you to her for picking the story out of her slush pile in the first place. But Violet does so much more than simply edit erotica (and actually, there’s nothing simple about that!) I can’t begin to cover everything she does here, but here’s how she’s been variously described:
‘…one of the 40 bloggers who really count.’ The Times
‘One of the leading figures in tech writing in the world.’ The Guardian
Violet Blue is omnipresent on the web.’ Forbes
America’s leading (very) public intellectual sexologist.’ The Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies
You can find her at her blog Violet Blue :: Open Source Sex, on Facebook and Twitter.
Rose Caraway is the Sexy Librarian! Not only does she write, edit and narrate erotica, she creates and narrates the wildly popular Kiss Me Quick’s Erotica Podcast and the Sexy Librarian Blogcast. Rose’s dulcet tones have recruited an ever-growing army of fans – the Lurid Listeners, who are as devoted at they are loyal – and she’s recently celebrated a Number 1 bestselling erotica audio book with her narration of Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Big Book of Orgasms. In September, Rose sees the release of her first erotica anthology for Cleis Press, The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica. I’m probably as excited about this as she is, because I have a story in the antho – and I know Rose is planning all sorts of fun for an explosive launch!
Lucy Malone is, for me, a new acquaintance. Lucy has narrated more than 50 erotica audio books, including Violet Blue’s Best Women’s Erotica 2014 from which ‘I Hate Sex’ is taken. I loved hearing her narrate my words and I’m looking forward to listening to a lot more of her work. She blogs at From Lucy’s Lips and you can find her audio books here. And of course, she’s on Facebook and Twitter.
So go check them out!