Introducing The Den of Sin and a giveaway

Sometimes when authors get together to talk shop, they spark amazing ideas that are too big to take on alone. What started as a mere reference of the old television show Fantasy Island spun off into brainstorming about people exploring sexual fantasies in a vacation setting. That’s how the Den of Sin erotic romance series got its start. Four authors, lots of stories, and one very special hotel.

Launched December 6, the series will issue a new New Year’s-themed erotica or erotic romance novella each Friday until December 27. Each story has a different couple (or trio) and different kinks and obstacles to explore.

 

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New Orleans’s Hotel Beaudelaire isn’t just a critically acclaimed 5-star establishment. For New Year’s Eve, it becomes a den of sin, and its owner extends invitations to a few discriminating guests to help make their sexual fantasies come true.

 

Look for these titles at major online booksellers including All Romance eBooks, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iTunes, Kobo, and Smashwords.

 

December 6: Forbidden Rendezvous by Mel Blue

Seraphina orchestrates fantasies, but this year she’ll create one of her own. It’s against the rules for an employee to participate in the weekend-long sex-capade but she’s willing to risk it for Luke. The man’s a mystery, but in a sea of CEOs and Fortune 500 billionaires, he stands out. His past and connection to her boss is clouded in intrigue, but she knows what he wants, and she plans to star in one of his voyeuristic fantasies.

 

December 13: Ménage à Troys by Holley Trent

At the Den of Sin anything goes, so instead of two newlyweds letting down their guards to finally consummate their marriage of convenience, three people desperate to be touched forge bonds. That’s all well and good for the weekend, but what will shake out of their tentative ménage à trois when it’s time to go home?

 

December 20: Wicked Surrender by Ambrielle Kirk

Kris is tired of spending her nights playing with hard plastic and silicone. She wants a real man for a night, and expects to find him at the Den of Sin. She doesn’t expect to meet one of the World’s Most Eligible Bachelors there, and this isn’t the first time she’s met him. Unfortunately, Travis Brenden doesn’t seem to remember her.

 

December 27: Redeeming the Amazon by L. V. Lewis

Karen hasn’t made love fully unclothed since her double mastectomy and the subsequent demise of her marriage. Her most significant relationship occurred right after her surgery when she connected with a former Marine, amputee classmate. Paul once left his heart in Baltimore with a beautiful former model, whose crumbling marriage was the only deterrent to his waning honor. A fantasy weekend at his uncle’s hotel may give him a second chance with his contemporary Amazon…if her fear of rejection doesn’t become a barrier to their reconnection.

 

 

To learn more about this shared world series and its authors, and to access purchasing information, please visit DenofSinSeries.com. While you’re there, check out our free reads: Shamelessly Taken and Two Strikes.

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Help us celebrate the Den of Sin’s opening by entering our contest!

 

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Holley Trent on Musicals and the Quirky MY NORA

I have an eclectic taste in music. Part of that is due to upbringing. I started taking piano lessons at age eight, and most of the primer books were from a bit earlier than mid-century. Not very rock & roll, you know?

Then there was the fact I grew up in the boonies. We didn’t have cable or a satellite dish, so I watched a lot of PBS. I fell in love with musicals. (All right, everyone, show me your jazz hands!) I also have a fond appreciation for world music. Original cast recording from Riverdance? Heck yeah. You should see my private attempts at Irish dance. Soundtrack from The Buena Vista Social Club? Oh yeah. Want me to sing “Dos Gardenias” to you?

In sixth grade, I committed the ultimate offense to pop music and joined school band. I even did marching band in high school and my first year of college. Marching band is why I run around loudly singing the anthem “America” from West Side Story: “EVERYTHING FREE IN AMER-EEE-CAAAAA!”

I figured eventually, all that eclecticism would spill over into one of my characters, and it did. Enter Manora Fredrickson, the heroine from My Nora. Nora’s an artist, but her first love is dance. In the opening scene of the story Nora is dancing around her barn with headphones on, listening to the “Cellblock Tango” from Chicago. Fortunately, unlike the cast singing that song, Nora’s not a merry murderess of boorish men. (She is a divorcée, though. She’d probably never murder her ex, but I wouldn’t put her past punching him in the eye.)

Here’s a bit of Nora in action:

She was agile as a cat burglar, lean with a narrow waist but bearing shapely hips that supported a firm round bottom that he watched with special interest. Matt thought he’d done pretty good in the past. He’d dated some of the most attractive women in Chowan County, but compared to his new neighbor’s remarkable beauty, they were downright plain.

Suddenly, she turned and shouted “Lipschitz!” and dropped into a deep lunge, her pose supported only by that lucky hoe. She said “Ow!” when her hip flexor gave a loud pop and opened her brown eyes to finally take note of the stranger in her outbuilding. She startled at the sight of Matt. He couldn’t blame her. There he was, this big, lumbering white guy trespassing on a rural property where a single woman lived all alone. Her hands slipped down the hoe’s handle, causing it to drop sideways on the floor. With that, she lost her balance and fell backward to the dirt floor on her bottom. The caramel skin between her high cheekbones and the v-neck of her tee shirt flushed to an unhealthy burgundy tone.

Matt walked over with one of his hands extended to help her up. “Sorry. I tried knocking at the house but …” She held up her index finger to hush him, yanked the small headphones out of her ears by their cord, and shoved them down the collar of her shirt.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked in a smooth, husky voice.

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but found himself gaping. He’d for some reason expected her to sound high-pitched and raspy judging by the way she shrieked “Lipschitz!” Instead, she sounded like the personification of sex and well-aged whiskey. He must have been staring, because she stood without the aid of his rough hand and waited in front of him with her hands on her hips and one elegant eyebrow raised. When he wasn’t forthcoming with words, or anything else for that matter, she said “Yoo hoo,” and snapped her fingers in front of his face.
**

 

Do you have a guilty pleasure song you like to sing when no one’s listening? Tell me what it is in the comments!

My Nora, a Crimson Romance title, is available now at Amazon, iTunes, and ARe. Keep an eye peeled for the upcoming print version.

Check out Holley Trent online at her blog for news about new releases or to view her backlist, and chat with her on Twitter.

Getting Polished with Holley Trent

People who ring my doorbell probably think I’m the maid. “Rough” would be a generous way to describe my stay-at-home ensemble. The sad thing is I’m Southern and was raised by one of those women who wouldn’t get into her car unless every hair was in place, jewelry just so, shoes perfectly shined. I’m supposed to be the embodiment of all that is genteel and polite.

*scoff*

I do try to avoid wearing beer tee shirts in public, and I’m old enough now I wouldn’t dare leave the house in deconstructed anything. But when I have to be somewhere that involves networking or cameras, I schlep out the mascara and put on a better bra. I clean up pretty well, I think.

That’s what my quirky sensual romance Polished Slick is about—putting a better foot forward. You see, the title is a bit of a double entendre. Yes, it’s a novel where nail polish is heavily featured, but there’s also a bit of a physical transformation by one of the major characters. Looks matter, whether we want them to or not, and sometimes people dress badly to avoid being noticed. I’m guilty of that. Here’s a little snippet from a point in the book where pretty much everyone has a transformation as an on-the-job hazard. The set-up: the staff of a small cosmetics company is about to stage a photo shoot. My heroine isn’t feeling it.

“I feel really exposed.”  Trinity tightened the robe around the skimpy outfit she didn’t even know was being held in her trunk. If she’d been curious enough to actually examine the items she’d so blindly picked up, she might have questioned who they were for. Gabby would have been the only other person employed by N-by-N who would have come close to being able to fit it and no way would Nikki let that child wear something so short.

“Oh, quit your griping,” Gretchen sniped, now swatting some black mascara onto Trinity’s lashes to complement the cake of black eye shadow Trinity was already wearing. “You could be famous for this.”

“I don’t want to be famous!”  It sounded petulant, even to Trinity’s ears, but it was true. “I’m a chemist. I don’t want people thinking I care about my looks.”

“Oh, people who know you know the opposite’s true,” Gretchen said. “Now, do this.”  She sucked in her cheeks to hollow them out.

Trinity sighed and mimicked her as the grumbly auburn lady swept her cheeks with a dark blush. Trinity’s back was to the big mirror, but she figured by the time Gretchen was done she’d either look like Edenton’s highest paid whore or a feral raccoon. Neither sounded sexy. At least the only people to see her in that ridiculous get-up would be the girls…or so Trinity thought. No sooner had she taken solace in that small thing did the studio door click open and Dom and Cole entered in full female impersonator mode.

 Crap.

Dom and Cole both worked for a traveling drag and female impersonating revue. Cole also acted as the troupe manager. He was married to Nikki’s accountant, Macy, and appeared on television a lot to judge competitions and provide guidance on talent shows. Dom was Beth’s live-in sweetie…when he was in town, anyway.

Dom liked to vary his acts, but on that day he was done up like Lea Michele as Rachel Berry complete with heavy bang, Scottie dog sweater, plaid schoolgirl shirt, high white knee socks and flat brown loafers. He held up his hands to show off his pale pink nail polish. Gretchen guffawed.

“Haters gonna hate, Gretchen,” Beth said cheerfully, straightening up and walking over to give her lover an air kiss so as not to disturb his make-up. She was all done and the stool was open. Gretchen’s turn.

While the make-up dust settled, Trinity took a moment to assess the other newcomer in the room. Cole, Dom’s boss and conscience, was in his usual Nicole Scherzinger get-up with fire engine red nails (which seemed to take on a special significance following the previous day’s disaster). Cole did one act and did it well. Trinity thought he was a pretty humble guy to be so damned handsome. More often than not, Trinity saw him out of make-up, which made sense because he didn’t want to confuse his toddler. She’d kept an eye on Courtney a few times at the barn when Macy brought her in to hang out while she handled accounting stuff with Nikki. Sweet baby.

The public outside of Chowan County would probably think Nikki had performed some sort of coup to get both Dom and Cole to appear in the N-by-N marketing materials, but the truth was nobody in Chowan County batted an eyelash at them anymore. They’d been around for a few years and had started to blend in with the rest of the nuts.

Gretchen took about fifteen minutes to shoot then Dom, who was a bit of a diva, took half an hour because he wanted to make sure he had the pout down pat. Cole nailed it on the first shot, holding a microphone and narrowing his eyes to make a sultry stare, but the photographer grabbed a few back-up shots as well. Both he and Dom hurried off to shower and change for a later shot Nikki was being coy about.

And then it was Trinity’s turn. Nikki yanked her robe off, minding Trinity’s wet nails, and gave her a shove toward the faux lab bench Charlie and Juan had apparently set up earlier in the morning.

“Here, don’t forget this.”  Nikki held out a pristine white lab coat. Trinity grabbed it, glad to have some cover over the short sparkly party dress she felt like such a fool in. The mirror indicated the dress wasn’t as short as it felt, but ending mid-thigh, it was certainly shorter than Trinity was used to.

Nikki patted the center edge of the table. “Sit here. Cross your legs at the knees.”  Trinity did as she was told and allowed Nikki to pose her hands so her fingers dangled over the edge of the table. Beth came over to pat down some errant hair and refresh Trinity’s already-heavy lip-gloss then both women backed away. The photographer swooped in and started grabbing shots before they were all the way out of the frame.

“Um…should I smile or something?” Trinity asked through clenched teeth.

“Nope,” the photographer said, getting in close to capture the platinum-colored nails which matched the metallic sequins of the dress then backing away to get a full portrait. Five minutes in, Nikki swooped in and handed Trinity an Erlenmeyer flask to hold.

Five more shots.

“All done.”  The photographer popped out his battery pack and squatted over his bag to locate a charged one.

Trinity hopped down, relieved to be able to get back into her own comfortable clothes. Nikki had other ideas. She hurried over and wrested the lab coat off Trinity then pushed her to the stool Beth had last occupied.

“Not done with you,” she said. “Gretchen, is he ready?”

“Yeah. Last-minute shave. Didn’t want Ron to have to edit out the shadow. He’s coming up the stairs now.”

“Who is?” Trinity asked.

The door creaked open again and the answer was standing in it.

“…the hell?”

Jerry didn’t look amused. He looked fabulous. Gorgeous, even. Downright sexy, certainly, but not amused.

“Holy hell.”

 

How well do you clean up?

 

Polished Slick is available as an ebook now from All Romance eBooks, Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Bookstrand.

 

For more information about me or upcoming stories, visit me or catch me in motion on Twitter .

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