A love story that will haunt you #FlashbackFriday What's hidden in this spooky place? #erotic #romance @HotInkBooks

When Cathy Faraday goes out from her office to buy morning tea, a set of circumstances send her on a different route from the one she would normally take. Waiting on a street unknown to her is a house. Old and left to fade away the house looks shabby against its neighbors. The whole row of houses are now offices and Cathy sees a ‘for let sign’ outside the place. Something draws her to the house. Someone watches from the third floor window.
Cathy applies to rent the building to expand her dating agency business. As she begins to make it ready, the house reveals its secrets.
Erotic paranormal romance, set in contemporary England this story will haunt you.


Graphic sex/love scenes. 18+ only. 

#FlashbackFriday Teaser 

She locked the front door behind her and walked up the stairs.

Owen was sitting on the edge of the single piece of furniture covered by a dustsheet when she walked in. She’d seen the item and realized it was a couch or similar item. She went to him.

He stood held her head and kissed her.

She pulled at his t-shirt and he helped her take it off. Cathy’s heart pounded as she ran her hands along his muscled chest and kissed down his chest to his stomach. His low-rise jeans showed the shape of his lean hips and a thin line of hair going down his stomach. She looked up into his eyes as she unzipped his jeans and pulled them down to his ankles. She kissed and licked down his stomach and then along his delicious hard cock.

She hadn’t noticed before, but he was wearing slide on shoes with no socks, and now she got him to step out of his clothes and shoes, until he was naked before her. His huge erection sprang away from his muscled stomach. She looked into his eyes as she kissed him and grasped his cock.

Owen groaned. “Take off your clothes, now, Cathy.” He stopped her kissing him. “No more kisses until you’re naked. I want you naked.”

His words made her throb with pleasure between her legs and her nipples hardened.

He took her t-shirt off and then her bra and dropped them gently to the floor.

She unzipped her jeans and began to push them down. Owen knelt and pulled them down to her ankles. He put his fingers into the side of her panties and then kissed her stomach before he took hold of the front with his teeth and pulled them down slowly, his fingers sliding down her thighs and his lips brushing against her mound until she was rocking her hips wanting his mouth on her clit.

Cathy closed her eyes and let the feelings flow over her. She wanted his tongue inside her, his fingers too, she wanted to suck his cock until he groaned and thrust into her. The need for sex had never been so urgent and so intense.

He stood and lifted her onto his knee as he sat on the chaise longue behind him.

She felt his hard thighs against her ass and he pressed her backward over his knee.

He took off her pull-on boots and then finished taking off her jeans and panties.

Cathy wanted his kiss and tried to sit up to reach his mouth, but he gently pushed her down and bent his head to kiss her stomach as he slipped a finger into her pussy. Cathy caught her breath. The feeling of his finger inside her and his mouth on her stomach completely overwhelmed her. She bucked her hips involuntarily to his hand and moaned as he pushed another finger into her. He lifted her then with his other hand around her shoulders to kiss her mouth. Cathy felt his fingers go deeper and she sighed into his mouth, the pleasure so great she couldn’t kiss him. All she could do was move to his gentle pumping and let him kiss her lips and slide his tongue against hers.
She tried to reach his cock, but couldn’t, and so she held his face to hers as he fingered her, kissing her every time she moaned.

“What do you want, Cathy?” He whispered.

She traced her fingertips over his shoulders and his chest.

“Tell me.”

In a fog of desire, she couldn’t form the words.

He pressed his thumb on her clit, and she savored the feel of his hand between her legs as his fingers moved in and out of her pussy. She could hardly breathe for the sheer bliss of his lips on hers. His other hand around her body to keep her where he wanted her, gave her such pleasure, she felt heavy with lust.
“I want you. I want you so much…”

“Tell me again, tell me…”
 Owen kissed her, and it was so good, so sexy, she felt her pussy throb where his fingers were. She’d never felt so wet. She didn’t want it to end.
“I want your cock in me. I want…”

Owen kissed her and took his fingers from her. She moaned softly wanting them back.

He kissed her again tenderly.

Cathy held his face and kissed him urgently.

He lifted her and moved her to straddle him. “Put my cock into you, slowly, kiss me, and sit down onto me slowly … let me feel every little move.”

She put her hand down to grasp his thick rock hard cock. It was exotic to hold him. She sighed against his lips.

He kissed her, moving his mouth on hers, softly, tantalizingly.

She guided his cock into her and sat slowly the way he’d said. As she took him into her pussy, the feel of his cock sliding against her clit and filling her slowly made her moan against his mouth.

He groaned and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. Then as she leaned her head back slightly, he bit gently on her throat.
They stopped to breathe against each other’s face before Cathy began to ride him.
He helped her, his hands on her hips, and he bent his head to suck her breasts into his mouth, one after the other until the nipples were wet and standing out for him.
Cathy felt as if she would melt away completely. She couldn’t remember anything feeling so delicious.

“This is the best feeling ever…” She murmured against his mouth.
“I feel that way, too.” Owen sucked on her ear lobe and she gasped.

She felt her orgasm start in her clit, and held Owen around the neck kissing him hard as it burst through her in intense waves of sensation. It made her breathless. She couldn’t stop thrusting, wanting it to go on. She slowed as the delicious orgasm waned.

Owen softened his kiss on her lips as he took hold of her hips and thrust hard up into her. He groaned against her mouth as his orgasm shook him with its intensity.
Copyright Elodie Parkes , Second edition The Old Star, 2017, Hot Ink Press
The Old Star
Romantic erotic PNR on kindle unlimited 

Release day #MMromance 'Given Time' @evernightpub and E.D.Parr #gayromance #GLBT Love is Love

From Evernight Publishing and E.D.Parr, a gay romance, a love story with a difference ... 

Given Time
Music video maker, Angel Starc is about to board a plane to Paris when he receives some sudden sad news. It takes him hurrying back to his childhood home after two years away, estranged from his older brother, Rory.
Angel is amazed and filled with guilt when that night he meets the only man he’s found romantically attractive in a long time. How can it be right? He should only be filled with sorrow, but gorgeous, caring Matt Loewe wraps him in a blanket of comfort and love that heals Angel’s troubled soul. 
Delectable, artist, Matt Loewe, follows his hunches and his heart. He’s been looking for love and Angel ignites an addictive passion in him.
As the two men fall deep in love they provide each other with the care needed to come to terms with their past anxieties. 

(Contains anal M/M sex, frottage, gay partner oral sex, masturbation)




Be teased
He kissed Matt, gently, soaking up the feel of Matt’s skin against his nose. He thrust his hips so that his lower body crushed on Matt’s and the unmistakable shape of Matt’s cock, hard and bulging in his pants met Angel’s cock. A low groan escaped Angel and he deepened the kiss, clinging to Matt, as his legs weakened and his heart pounded.

Matt pushed his arms around Angel’s neck, and Angel’s hands fell away from the grip on his shoulders. Matt’s murmur penetrated Angel’s haze of pleasure. “I can’t even think straight, but I know I want you naked in my arms.” He rained kisses on Angel’s mouth.

Angel pushed his hands between their bodies. He traced Matt’s erection with his fingertips and then cupped it in his palm, pressing against the fabric of Matt’s pants.


Matt’s groan on Angel’s lips sent a shock of desire through his balls.

Copyright E.D.Parr 2017 Evernight Publishing 
BUY the BOOK 


He thought she was perfect, but she’s the broken doll on the shelf. #BDSM new release @ElyzabethVaLey @evernightpub




The monster lay dormant, until it saw her...

Every few years, the beast within Grisha Vasiliev rouses, clamoring for blood. When he sees Ayla Clark dancing, her movements exuding grace, passion and joy, he knows he must have her.

Grisha kidnaps Ayla expecting the usual: resistance, tears, pleas for mercy. But when Ayla breaks the mold, his whole world spirals out of control and feelings he thought he could never have again resurface.

He thought she was perfect, but she’s the broken doll on the shelf.

The last thing Ayla Clark remembers is celebrating her performance as Giselle and flirting with the handsome Grisha Vasiliev, the owner of one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the country. Now, she’s tied up and at his mercy, begging for more of his attention, while fighting to keep her own secrets buried in the dark.

Be Warned: BDSM, knife play, whipping

Available at:
And More!




Excerpt:
Ayla turned on her heel and raced out the door. Her bare feet slapped against the cool floor almost painfully. The glass shard cut into her hand but she didn’t dare release it yet. Lights blinked on as she ran down the hall and up a set of stairs. Tripping, she dropped her primitive weapon.
“Fuck.”
She didn’t stop to pick it up but continued until the top. She clutched her stomach. It couldn’t be. A thick metal door loomed before her. She lunged at it, screaming and crying, shouting for help, but it didn’t budge.
“Please,” she whimpered.
 “You’re going to hurt yourself. The door is pure steel, locked with a key and an electronic panel.”
She spun to face Grisha. He stood a few steps behind her, arms crossed over his chest, eyes gleaming with predatory intent. Her shoulders slumped. A lump formed in her throat.
“No. Please, Grisha. Let me go.”
 “I can’t do that.”
“Why? You’re rich, powerful. You can have anything you want. Why?” she insisted. “I swear I won’t say anything. This never happened.”
“That isn’t the way this works, sweetheart.”
“Please, Grisha.”
Her knees gave out and she slid to the floor. Her head spun. None of this made any sense. Grisha towered over her. Tears gathered behind her lids. She inched forward, hugging his left leg.
“I beg you.” 
Grisha lay his hand on her head. She looked up at him. The power of his gaze undid the well of emotions within her. She would never get out of here. Sobs racked her body. She clung to him, beseeching him.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
He settled on the floor next to her and pulled her onto his lap. Ayla’s arms wrapped around his neck naturally. He caressed her back in soothing circles. She burrowed her face into the collar of his shirt, his fresh, woodsy essence entering her system. Familiar. Welcoming. Slowly, her tears ebbed replaced by confusion. Why did he comfort her?
“What are you going to do to me?” she whispered.
He caught her chin. His gaze danced over her face for an instant. His brow furrowed. The blue in his eyes darkened to midnight depths. Then his lips were on her, pressing, claiming, sparking her body alive. Her brain shut down. His tongue met hers and she opened up, eager to taste more. He demanded and she willingly gave.
Ayla was his to do as he pleased. His hands touched her everywhere, leaving behind a trail of burning need. Liquid gathered at the apex between her thighs. Her clit throbbed.
Grisha cupped her swollen breast, squeezing the turgid nub between his fingers. She moaned. He bent his head and took her nipple in his mouth, hungrily sucking. She arched, whimpering. His heavy hand slid across her thigh to her pussy. Relentless fingers probed her entrance.
“You’re soaked.” He groaned.
She turned her head, embarrassed. Grisha thrust a digit into her. Ayla sucked in air.
“You like this. You want this,” he said, his voice husky and gritty.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You enjoy this,” he whispered, pushing another finger into her, slowly pumping them. She mewled.
“My sweet little dancer wants my cock in her cunt, doesn’t she?”
She shook her head.
“No? That’s not what this tells me.” He curled his finger across her G-spot and began to massage it. She shook from head to toe.
“Please.”
“What is it, sweetheart? Want more?”
Three fingers rubbed her. The pressure increased. Ayla threw back her head. Her hips swayed involuntarily. His strokes turned quick and short. Sweat trickled down her back.
“Grisha,” she panted.
“You’re going to come for me, Ayla, and you’re going to do it now.”




About Elyzabeth M. VaLey

Elyzabeth M. VaLey is a writer of sizzling, sexy romance who firmly believes in happy ever after.  From paranormal to contemporary, fantasy, or historical, she enjoys exploring her characters' darker side and writing stories about tortured heroes, strong heroines, and all that comes between them and their love. 


When she's not writing, she can be found walking in the Spanish countryside with her black Lab, exploring castles, or enjoying some tapas with her friends.  

Follow her at:
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Website
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This may be their only chance to vanquish the specters--if they survive the storm. #PNR #giveaway tour stop @Cmoleti

STORM WATCH
Unfinished Business series, book 3
by Carole Ann Moleti

Genre: Light Paranormal Romance
Cover Designer: Wren Taylor




Mike and Liz thought they'd gotten control of the specters haunting the Barrett Inn. But things get very complicated when they're the ghosts from your past life. The Category Five Hurricane bearing down on Cape Cod appears to be headed directly for them--or has it been spawned from inside them? This may be their only chance to vanquish the specters--if they survive the storm.



Mike and Liz had survived the first round, and they’d remained hopeful the specters would settle down. But there was enough unfinished business for any cosmic disturbance to rile them up again. This storm watch was more than just a minor blip on the radar—or a coincidence. 

Noisy seagulls hunted as the storm with enough power to blow them to Rhode Island threatened. Mike rolled his shoulders, flexing the stiff muscles in his back, trying to imagine he could shed his wife and his son to escape the gaping jaws of Captain Edward Barrett’s legacy. Normally a lingering vague threat, it rubbed him raw at moments like this when he had nothing to do but wait for the bay to come in around him so he could go out and make a living. 

He rinsed his hands in a tide pool. The shadow sent hermit crabs scurrying. Brine stung his knuckles but stopped the oozing with that invisible layer of stickiness every saltwater fisherman learns to love. An incoming tide rolled across the flats as the storm clouds amassed.

The boat teeter-tottered on its keel as Mike climbed aboard and settled into a seat. Reassured by the glimmering water rippling in to release him from bondage, he readied his fishing gear. Chants of “ohmmmmm” from morning beach yoga carried in the breeze. At least that was connection with living spirits, as opposed to the dead, stale vestiges of lives ended too soon who were unable to give up and let go. 

A woman out for an early morning walk grew larger and larger. Her broad brimmed hat dipped so low over her eyes he couldn’t see her face, though her skinny legs, matchstick arms, and pigeon chest were unmistakable once she’d emerged from the glare. That, the jangling earrings, and the purple and pink broomstick skirt hitched up and secured with a silver belt. 

“Good morning, Mike.” Always oppositional, Sandra was headed out when everyone was on their way back. 

“Where’re you going, Sandra? Tide’s coming in.”

She flipped up the floppy brim and grinned. “I’m headed over to check on Harley.” 

The Whaler rocked in the surf. “Should be ready to roll in about twenty minutes. I’ll give you a ride over.” 

Sandra didn’t break stride. “That’s okay. I’ll be sitting on the beach with the old buzzard before you even pull up anchor.” 

They were both oddballs: He, wearing a Red Sox cap, a scruffy beard, a black tee shirt showing a bit of belly, while sitting like a bum in a beached boat. Sandra, like an escapee from a Harry Potter novel, headed over to check on a ninety-six-year-old hermit who lived on a dune that was cut off from the mainland at high tide.









Liz Levine is convinced her recently deceased husband is engineering the sequence of events that propels her into a new life. But it’s sea captain Edward Barrett, the husband that died over a century ago, who has returned to complete their unfinished business. Edward’s lingering presence complicates all her plans and jeopardizes a new relationship that reawakens her passion for life and love. What are Captain Barrett’s plans for his wife, and for the man who is the new object of her affections?





Mike and Liz Keeny are newlyweds, new parents, and the proprietors of the Barrett Inn, an 1875 Victorian on Cape Cod, which just happens to be haunted— by their own ghosts from past lives. The Barrett Inn had become an annex of Purgatory, putting Liz and their infant son in danger. Selling the historic seaside bed and breakfast was the only answer, one that Liz and her own tortured specter refused to consider. Were Mike and Liz doomed to follow the same path that led to disaster in their previous lives? Was getting out, getting away, enough?







Carole Ann Moleti lives and works as a nurse-midwife in New York City, thus explaining her fascination with all things paranormal, urban fantasy, and space opera. Her nonfiction focuses on health care, politics, and women's issues. But her first love is writing science fiction and fantasy because walking through walls is less painful than running into them.

Books One and Two in the Unfinished Business series, Carole's Cape Cod paranormal romance novels, Breakwater Beach and The Widow's Walk, were published by Soulmate. Book Three, Storm Watch, is due out June 28,2017. 

Urban fantasies set in the world of Carole's novels have been featured in Haunted: Ten Tales of Ghosts, Seers: Ten Tales of Clairvoyance, Beltane: Ten Tales of Witchcraft, and Bites: Ten Tales of Vampires.

Carole also writes nonfiction that ranges from sweet and sentimental in This Path and Thanksgiving to Christmas to edgy and irreverent in the Not Your Mother's Books: On Being a Mother and On Being a Parent.

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