Laura Wilkinson's Blog - Posts Tagged "erotica"
Publication Day!
The champagne is on ice (it’s a bit early, even for me) ready for a small gathering of friends and family this evening. Why? Because it’s official publication day for my erotic romance, All of Me, today.
It is my first romance for Xcite, though not my first publication, and I am thrilled and nervous. Thrilled because I’m proud of it and absolutely delighted to join such a fabulous group of authors in the Xcite house, and nervous because, well, we always are, aren’t we, when we send our loved ones out there into the big wide world?
Flick and Orlando are still very close to me and I hope that people fall in love with them and their story. But it’s time for me to let go and for readers to take ownership. As is so often the case the e-book has been available for about a week and the paperback has been available to pre-order for longer, but as of now it’s well and truly out there. Good luck, Flick and Orlando. And it’s arrivederci not goodbye… I start work on a sequel soon.
Here’s a little bit about the book:
Actress Flick Burrow’s career is in the doldrums. Dumped by long-term boyfriend at the altar and nudging forty she escapes to Italy touring with a theatrical company. Orlando Locatelli is a successful businessman. He’s rich, clever and drop-dead gorgeous. When the two meet, the attraction is instant. But Orlando is 15 years Flick’s junior; he’s the controlling director’s son; his stepmother is possessive and destructive. He’s trouble and he’s determined to have her. Sparks fly when a tour romance turns into something altogether more dangerous, threatening to reveal pasts, and desires, both lovers are keen to bury.
All Of Me
It is my first romance for Xcite, though not my first publication, and I am thrilled and nervous. Thrilled because I’m proud of it and absolutely delighted to join such a fabulous group of authors in the Xcite house, and nervous because, well, we always are, aren’t we, when we send our loved ones out there into the big wide world?
Flick and Orlando are still very close to me and I hope that people fall in love with them and their story. But it’s time for me to let go and for readers to take ownership. As is so often the case the e-book has been available for about a week and the paperback has been available to pre-order for longer, but as of now it’s well and truly out there. Good luck, Flick and Orlando. And it’s arrivederci not goodbye… I start work on a sequel soon.
Here’s a little bit about the book:
Actress Flick Burrow’s career is in the doldrums. Dumped by long-term boyfriend at the altar and nudging forty she escapes to Italy touring with a theatrical company. Orlando Locatelli is a successful businessman. He’s rich, clever and drop-dead gorgeous. When the two meet, the attraction is instant. But Orlando is 15 years Flick’s junior; he’s the controlling director’s son; his stepmother is possessive and destructive. He’s trouble and he’s determined to have her. Sparks fly when a tour romance turns into something altogether more dangerous, threatening to reveal pasts, and desires, both lovers are keen to bury.
All Of Me
100th Sunday Snog
As a newbie to the erotic romance genre, I’m thrilled to be taking part in Victoria Blisse’s biggest ever Sunday Snog. It’s the 100th anniversary and so 100 authors are sharing a fabulous snog on their blog, encouraging readers to donate to fantastic charity Médecins Sans Frontières and have a stab at winning a prize. What’s not to like!
Everyone who comments on this blog will have their name added to the hat from which I’ll draw a winner on Friday 27th. The prize is a copy – e-book or paperback – of my debut erotic romance, All of Me. Good luck, and enjoy the kisses. Here’s mine from All of Me. My leads, Flick, an actress nudging 40 (38), and Orlando, a 23-year-old businessman, have met for the second time; at the after-show party of a play that Orlando’s father is directing and Flick is starring in. This is a tease; things get hotter and hotter thereafter!
We were alone, the other drinkers had left, gone inside, finding the night air too cool for comfort. Orlando stood. We faced each other. The temperature of my blood rose another degree or four. Without taking my eyes from his, I stepped forward so that our bodies almost touched and said, ‘You’ve done this before, haven’t you? Tried to seduce an older woman.’
His brows arched, a lopsided smile formed. ‘As it happens, I haven’t. You’re my first.’
‘I could be your mother. Almost.’
‘You’re nothing like my mother.’
We were so close I could feel the heat of his body, smell his sweet breath, the nutty scent of his skin. Every muscle in my body tensed, my lips quivered, my breathing grew shallow.
‘You’re very… tall,’ I whispered.
‘So are you.’ He tipped forward; our noses touched, an Inuit kiss. ‘I hardly have to bend at all.’ And his lips brushed mine as he formed the words. ‘To kiss you.’ And with that he pressed his mouth onto my parted, wetted lips.
To donate to Médecins Sans Frontières please click here.
To read some more hot kisses click here.
Médecins Sans Frontières/Doctors Without Borders (MSF) is a worldwide movement. They deliver medical aid to the people who need it most, wherever they are. We’re hoping to make at least 100 pounds to contribute to their work. Here’s to many snogs and many donations which will help to make this world a better place.
All Of Me
Everyone who comments on this blog will have their name added to the hat from which I’ll draw a winner on Friday 27th. The prize is a copy – e-book or paperback – of my debut erotic romance, All of Me. Good luck, and enjoy the kisses. Here’s mine from All of Me. My leads, Flick, an actress nudging 40 (38), and Orlando, a 23-year-old businessman, have met for the second time; at the after-show party of a play that Orlando’s father is directing and Flick is starring in. This is a tease; things get hotter and hotter thereafter!
We were alone, the other drinkers had left, gone inside, finding the night air too cool for comfort. Orlando stood. We faced each other. The temperature of my blood rose another degree or four. Without taking my eyes from his, I stepped forward so that our bodies almost touched and said, ‘You’ve done this before, haven’t you? Tried to seduce an older woman.’
His brows arched, a lopsided smile formed. ‘As it happens, I haven’t. You’re my first.’
‘I could be your mother. Almost.’
‘You’re nothing like my mother.’
We were so close I could feel the heat of his body, smell his sweet breath, the nutty scent of his skin. Every muscle in my body tensed, my lips quivered, my breathing grew shallow.
‘You’re very… tall,’ I whispered.
‘So are you.’ He tipped forward; our noses touched, an Inuit kiss. ‘I hardly have to bend at all.’ And his lips brushed mine as he formed the words. ‘To kiss you.’ And with that he pressed his mouth onto my parted, wetted lips.
To donate to Médecins Sans Frontières please click here.
To read some more hot kisses click here.
Médecins Sans Frontières/Doctors Without Borders (MSF) is a worldwide movement. They deliver medical aid to the people who need it most, wherever they are. We’re hoping to make at least 100 pounds to contribute to their work. Here’s to many snogs and many donations which will help to make this world a better place.
All Of Me
Blissemas Time, Mistletoe & Wine
I’m chuffed to bits to be part of the winter wonderful Blissemas promotion. To be in with a chance of winning an amazing prize of your choice – including an e-Reader - write a comment on the blogs you visit. They’re all worth a peep. Here’s the link to the Blissemas site: mylink text for the rules and the participating bloggers. And here's the link to mine if you'd like to take part in the Erotic Enchants party too: http://lcwilkinson.co.uk. If you’ve missed any of the blogs so far you can go back and visit. The winner will be announced on 21 Dec. Good Luck!
Here are some thoughts of mine on this special time of year…
Christmas is an intrinsically romantic time of year. Whose cockles aren’t warmed by the sight of glittering fairy lights, roaring fires, flushed-from-the-cold cheeks wrapped in fur hoods, stars in a midnight blue sky? And then there’s the mistletoe hanging from door frames and lampshades, olive green leaves slick, white berries close to bursting. The thought of it all is enough to set my pulse racing.
If pushed, I’d describe myself as a summer person; I love heat, sunshine on bare flesh, swimming in turquoise seas, the scent of coconut oil. But when December comes round I find myself swept away by the warmth and romanticism of the festive period. It’s a time of love in myriad forms. It’s a time of indulgence – and as a greedy person this comes easily to me – and an opportunity to treat all of our senses. Fake fur and feathers beneath fingertips, the scent of cinnamon, orange peel and cloves in the air, the sound of a choir, the sight of a loved one opening a gift on Christmas morning. It’s a time to keep warm sharing some body heat with a sexy lover(s), cocoon ourselves from the real world of work and bills and pressure.
Good Christmases, like fantastic sex, are seared onto memory, to be enjoyed over and over. I will never forget a Christmas in Manhattan: skating at the Rockefeller centre with my lover, the joy of clutching onto one another for dear life as more proficient skaters whizzed by, kissing under the dazzling lights of Times Square, the view of the island from the helicopter at midnight. Or the bitterly cold Christmas in Northumberland when we walked along the beach beneath the shadow of Castle Bamburgh. Or the stroll through a deserted city of London to St Paul’s one Christmas eve, the obelisks of the financial centre huddled around us like monks.
Summertime may mean frolicking in the surf with barely anything on, but what’s not to like about the heat of a lover’s body protecting you from the chill? Or the brush of warm lips against a cold cheek, mouth, neck, ear? One of the most romantic weddings I went to was that of a friend who was married on a small Scottish island at Christmas. The ceremony took place at dusk and the bride made her way to a mistletoe decked church up a candle lit pathway wrapped in cream fur. Jeez, they were one sexy pair.
For the singletons Christmas is party season. It offers a chance to don a sparkly number, skyscraper heels and approach that hot bloke in marketing. Or vice-versa. A lingering snog by the photocopier might be the best present you give.
And though we enjoy few white Christmases in England the promise of one is also dreamy. Hell, snow itself is romantic – it transforms the ordinary, the everyday, into something magical and it is this transformative quality that it shares with love. When we’re in love we see the world in a new light – a world bathed in a honey-coloured glow. We are better people when we love. When we make love.
So, forget all the commercialism, the cheesy ads and the thought of the pounds that will need shedding in January and indulge.
Here’s to a very loving Christmas sex-pots!
L.C. x
Here are some thoughts of mine on this special time of year…
Christmas is an intrinsically romantic time of year. Whose cockles aren’t warmed by the sight of glittering fairy lights, roaring fires, flushed-from-the-cold cheeks wrapped in fur hoods, stars in a midnight blue sky? And then there’s the mistletoe hanging from door frames and lampshades, olive green leaves slick, white berries close to bursting. The thought of it all is enough to set my pulse racing.
If pushed, I’d describe myself as a summer person; I love heat, sunshine on bare flesh, swimming in turquoise seas, the scent of coconut oil. But when December comes round I find myself swept away by the warmth and romanticism of the festive period. It’s a time of love in myriad forms. It’s a time of indulgence – and as a greedy person this comes easily to me – and an opportunity to treat all of our senses. Fake fur and feathers beneath fingertips, the scent of cinnamon, orange peel and cloves in the air, the sound of a choir, the sight of a loved one opening a gift on Christmas morning. It’s a time to keep warm sharing some body heat with a sexy lover(s), cocoon ourselves from the real world of work and bills and pressure.
Good Christmases, like fantastic sex, are seared onto memory, to be enjoyed over and over. I will never forget a Christmas in Manhattan: skating at the Rockefeller centre with my lover, the joy of clutching onto one another for dear life as more proficient skaters whizzed by, kissing under the dazzling lights of Times Square, the view of the island from the helicopter at midnight. Or the bitterly cold Christmas in Northumberland when we walked along the beach beneath the shadow of Castle Bamburgh. Or the stroll through a deserted city of London to St Paul’s one Christmas eve, the obelisks of the financial centre huddled around us like monks.
Summertime may mean frolicking in the surf with barely anything on, but what’s not to like about the heat of a lover’s body protecting you from the chill? Or the brush of warm lips against a cold cheek, mouth, neck, ear? One of the most romantic weddings I went to was that of a friend who was married on a small Scottish island at Christmas. The ceremony took place at dusk and the bride made her way to a mistletoe decked church up a candle lit pathway wrapped in cream fur. Jeez, they were one sexy pair.
For the singletons Christmas is party season. It offers a chance to don a sparkly number, skyscraper heels and approach that hot bloke in marketing. Or vice-versa. A lingering snog by the photocopier might be the best present you give.
And though we enjoy few white Christmases in England the promise of one is also dreamy. Hell, snow itself is romantic – it transforms the ordinary, the everyday, into something magical and it is this transformative quality that it shares with love. When we’re in love we see the world in a new light – a world bathed in a honey-coloured glow. We are better people when we love. When we make love.
So, forget all the commercialism, the cheesy ads and the thought of the pounds that will need shedding in January and indulge.
Here’s to a very loving Christmas sex-pots!
L.C. x
