These two books are some of the most erotic I've written. In the recent years, my stories have lightened up, become more mainstream with hot love scenes. So when I re-read these early books, I was very pleasantly reminded with how much I loved writing them.
The second erotic short I ever wrote was intended for a Whiskey Creek Press Torrid anthology titled Lust. In that antho, the story was Mercenary Desires. It was republished by Siren and is now self-pubbed with a new title and new cover.
The inspiration for this hot story was something not very "hot" at all. It was winter and cough medications were advertised on TV. One particular commercial caught my eye. A unattractive fellow coughed all day long, irritating his co-workers. Someone offered him a cough drop and poof!, he turned into a non-coughing hunk. A story popped/poofed! into my head. An ugly, bearded, beat up looking man rescues a beautiful woman from danger. Hint: he cleans up nicely.
Here's the blurb to Her Hero:Rowdy Pierce-warrior. Sara Stewart-artist. Macho mercenary rescues posh jewelry designer. Their lives collide in an spectacular rescue and escape across the Egyptian desert. Sara falls for her sexy, body-to-die-for hero and makes the first move. Rowdy, fascinated by the luscious, sweet-bodied, free-spirited woman he saved, takes what Sara offers. He doesn’t expect to lose his heart. Will their lust turn to something deeper back in the real world?
And an R-rated excerpt
“Where?” His voice was an embarrassing breathless, husky whisper.
“My office…big couch.”
“Thank you, Lord.” He swept her up—he loved doing that—charged through the doorway to her office, kicked the door shut, and dropped her down on the sofa. The little devil lay there beaming up at him with those blue eyes, not looking icy at all. Rowdy knelt beside the couch. “Take this off,” he ordered as he pulled her sweater and tank top all the way off over her head.
“Sonofabitch.” His breath caught in his throat. He was afraid his heart would stop.
“You don’t like it?”
Her falsely innocent question kicked it back in. “Like?” he gasped. Glancing at her pleased expression, he dragged his gaze back to her breathtaking breasts. His tiny feminine side appreciated that her bra was spectacular, the colors shimmering into each other, the lace barely covering her. But he could give a shit. The huge masculine side wanted to taste the soft, cushiony skin, preferably…now. He lowered his head and sucked her nipple between his teeth.
She responded with a sharp cry.
Right through the lace, he rocked it, lashing the tip with his tongue.
She twisted and surged, her fingers in his hair, gripping his head. “The other one,” she begged with little kitten-like mews.
He was a good boy; he did as he was told. With a final nip, he lifted his head and whispered, “The jeans.”
She nodded frantically. “Uh huh…”
He slid them down her long, beautiful legs, right off over the sexy stilettos. “Fuck.” The panties matched her bra, blonde pussy hair peeping through the lace over her mound. “Jesus, sweetheart, you’re killin’ me,” he groaned. “Long legs, sexy underwear, and stilettos? I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
Sara groaned. Her chest rose and fell sharply. “I want you inside me now. Slow later,” she ordered, gripping the front of his shirt.
“Yes, ma’am.” He stood, divested himself of his shirt, boots, and jeans, and after peeling her out of her bra and panties, knelt between her thighs on the cushions. “Leave the shoes on,” he commanded. He didn’t give a crap if those spikes scratched his ass to ribbons.
“Rowdy, I want you…now.” She clutched his arms, pulling him toward her.
Her Hero is available for sale here - http://amzn.com/B00TKXN6KO
Several years ago, I tried a NaNoWriMo. NaNo is write a 50,000 word book in a month. It's usually held in November of every year, but now there are NaNos in other months. I divided 50,000 by 30 days to get 1,667 words to be written every day to meet the goal. In NaNo, you write flat out without any self-editing. JUST WRITE! I finished with 2 days to spare. Whew.
The inspiration for this was the cutest coach house I passed by every day on my walk. I love dollhouses and although this was a full size house, it was still tiny but just the right size for one person. So, I had a home, now I needed characters. A Chicago actress and a Chicago cop seemed interesting. Then I had to brainstorm names. I tend to come up quickly with names so Sam Bolt and Liz Aspen were born.
After expansion, the book became Undercover Lover and was published by Siren. I have the rights back, renamed it, and gave it a new cover.
Here's the blurb forPassion/Retribution/Love:Free spirited actress Liz Aspen can'tresist masturbating to the fantasy of her gorgeous, hunky next door neighbor. If he were only there in the bedroom with her, she wouldn't need Mr. Fake-Nine-Inch-Cock. Sam Bolt, loner and secretive undercover cop, gets an eyeful when he accidentally spies on his neighbor from his window to hers. It's a shame what she's doing to herself—when he could do it much better!
Their lives entwine when he saves her life, but she's in further danger when his past meets his present. Sam hates the pain he's caused, but can't stay away from her. He craves the promise of a normal life with a soft, willing woman like Liz who doesn't have to fight torturously dark demons. Addicted to his powerful lovemaking, Liz finds him as compelling as she is confused by the mystery of what he's not telling her.
Will she still love him when he finally tells her the whole truth? Can Sam accept that his past actions don't need to destroy a future with a woman who has proven her strength—emotionally and physically?
Liz has been taken hostage by Sam's enemy.
She survived the danger inside her house but
now they're outside the front door
surrounded by cops and emergency workers…
"Enough of this chit chat. We're coming out. That SUV'd better be in position, or she's dead right now, right in front of you." Dominguez slid his left arm around her neck and squeezed, forcing her toward the door.
Liz jerked and fought, afraid of passing out, this time from the pressure of his arm around her neck. Flashing stars danced in her vision, and she couldn't get a deep breath. Dominguez held her upright, because he needed her as a shield. He opened the front door, and before stepping out, transferred his gun from the hand at her neck back to his right hand.
The bright lights blinded her. She turned her head away. Giant spotlights shone glaringly on the house. A dozen police cars, fire engines, and ambulances, all with their lights flashing, dotted the street. A helicopter droned ominously above them. If she'd been scared before, this was worse. Soon everything would be all over. Either she'd be dead now or dead later out in the country. In no way did she believe he'd let her go.
The police ranged haphazardly in front of them, the SUV close, driver's side door yawning open and waiting. She did not want to get in there. Closing her eyes, she prayed whatever happened would happen fast. He held the gun to her temple. The cold metal felt savage against her skin. She was defenseless with her hands taped behind her back.
Open your eyes, Liz. Look at me. Look at me, baby.
In her head. The words were in her head. At first they didn't mean anything, just low sounds beneath all the other noise.
Look at me.
Liz, baby, open your eyes.
She cranked her eyes open a slit, saw the thick arm cloaked in dark wool imprisoning her neck. Her lashes lifted, she let her gaze roam under the level of the lights, the cops, the cop cars, back down to the arm restraining her. These might be the last things she ever saw… A strange peace took over. It was out of her control.
Look at me, love. Look away from him. Look at me.
She didn't think she could be any more terrified. If she died, could she do it with dignity? Did that even matter? Sam. She found his face in the crowd, their eyes locked. He was so beautiful, the sweet and sensual memories came back to her. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
She gagged but was too frightened to moan. She wanted to scream and never stop but was too terrified to make a sound. She lost Sam in the crowd. Her gaze flicked desperately from face to face. It looked like a scene from a movie. A scene out of a nightmare. Surely this many people could save her. She struggled, testing his hold.
Dominguez tightened his arm across her throat, the gun's mouth lethal on her forehead.
There, she found Sam again. The blades of the helicopter still thwapped overhead, and the police radios still squawked. Everyone waited for Dominguez to make his move. She wished something would happen. Just to get it over with.
Passion/Retribution/Love is available at Amazon - http://amzn.com/B00UBAR89K
Besides loving these two stories, I've discovered the pleasures of making my own covers. The Jimmy Thomas site romancenovelcovers.com has been a gold mine of possibilities for me. I've used pre-made covers from that site, and now I've begun buying stock images and adding my own title and author name. I've also used iStock.com and periodimages.com. My covers are simple, but I think pretty effective. Her Hero's cover is downright scorching hot. My eyeballs are smiling.
Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, "Why don't you write them down?" Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books published. The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process—developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories. My careers have been varied—third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary—none of which gave me a bit of inspiration. But now I'm lucky enough to write romance full time—the best job in the universe! And I'm fortunate enough to have found my own happily ever after husband.
Jane Leopold Quinn
My Romance: Love With a Scorching Sensuality
Amazon Author Page http://amzn.to/1DfiXkP