CONTEST and guest post with Skylar Kade!!
Skylar’s at my blog today talking up her great book His Only Hope and offering a contest – woot!
One of today’s commenters will win a copy of “Mastering Lara”, a Maison Domine interlude. Don’t forget to leave your email!
To celebrate her September 20th release of His Only Hope from Samhain Publishing, Skylar is giving away three naughty prize packs, filled with flavored body oil, massage oil, a play collar, and other goodies. Readers can earn points by (a) liking her Facebook page, (b) tweeting about the book (don’t forget to add @skylarkade to the message!), (c) signing up for her quarterly newsletter (email@example.com to be added), and (d) sending Skylar proof of purchase for His Only Hope and/or Maison Domine (firstname.lastname@example.org). Winners will be selected and notified on Halloween.
I didn’t start out with the intention of pushing sexual boundaries, but that’s where I ended up. Maybe as a budding writer I needed sexual conflict to create my inner and outer story turmoil. Maybe as a reader, sexually edgy stories attracted me.
But I think it quickly moved beyond literary rebellion into, dare I say it?, social commentary. I’m drawn toward the outskirts of love and lust, the gray area where kink and heteroflexibility and menage lean up against the brick walls of seedy bars and smoke cigarettes in the semi-darkness.
As a reader, I love stories that take me just beyond my comfort zone, but in a way that feels safe–a way that makes it feel like experiementation is ok, even encouraged. As a writer, it’s liberating to show that sex can be dirty and naughty and still lead to happily-ever-after–without preaching to the audience or burning bras.
Gertrude Stein wrote, “A rose is a rose is a rose.” I write, “love is love is love.”
That’s why you’ll find kinksters and lesbians and polyamorous lovers in my stories. Why these heroes and heroines often struggle to find themselves in a world that says their love is less valid because it colors outside the lines. Yes, it means that my mother can’t display my books on her coffee table, but it does mean that, as a writer, I find myself a little freer with each story I write. And I can only hope that some readers, on some occassions, will feel it too.
Skylar Kade, self-avowed hedonist and princess extraordinaire, started her writing career after throwing aside yet another romance she could not bring herself to finish. The run-on sentences! The purple prose! Oh, the horror of it was just too much. So she sat down to write her own tale. Her favorite part about writing is the extensive research.
She currently resides in sunny southern California, alternately cursing the polluted air and adoring the often-perfect weather. Skylar spends her time asking the cabana boys to bring her more mimosas and feed her strawberries while she dreams up her next naughty adventure.
You can find her erotic romances at Samhain, Siren, and Ellora’s Cave, in print and e-book.
Catch Skylar on her website, at the Nine Naughty Novelists blog, or visit her on Tumblr, Goodreads, The Facebook or The Twitter.
This time, he’s not giving her up without a fight.
His Only Hope (The Maison Chronicles, Book 2)
After two grueling years caring for her terminally ill mother, Hope O’Shea is eager to start fresh. Except her first interior-decorating job is for a popular BDSM club—part of her kinky past she misses, but had to leave behind.
Worse, she somehow ends up in the arms of her ex-Dom, Gabriel Cassidy. The one man who could strip her emotions bare, so bare that rather than reveal her painful history, she ran.
Gabriel never understood why Hope left without even a goodbye. Determined to get answers, he entices her to Maison Domine for a weekend on the promise of meeting the owner for another decorating job. Except being with her again reminds him why he loved her in the first place—and why she shouldn’t trust him as her Dom.
As their attraction reignites, Hope is transported back to the sub-space bliss she felt only with Gabe. Then a nightmare from her past shows up at the club, and with no other safe place to turn, she has no choice but to trust Gabe with her shame. Leaving Gabe with a devastating choice—reveal his last secret…or lose his Hope.
Product Warnings: This book contains a feisty interior decorator, a dominating leather worker, heart-wrenching sex and redemption.
Hope O’Shea thought she’d never set foot in The Sunset Strip ever again. She’d been out of the scene for two years, which had been good for her. She shivered, remembering the handful of times she’d come here.
On her return to LA, Melina, the Mistress who owned the popular BDSM nightclub, contacted her to redesign the whole place. Dammit, the things she did for old friends and new clients.
This Saturday night, like most, the club’s otherwise inconspicuous entrance saw an overwhelming amount of foot traffic. Housed in a ’50s-era office building, it was impossible to guess what the dark brick walls held, so long as one ignored the interesting mix of characters entering and exiting.
Hope shook her head, exorcising thoughts of the past. Strands of newly cut and dyed auburn hair flew into her eyes, and she brushed them away. She missed the convenience of ponytails, but her stylist assured her the shorter hair was “chic and professional”.
“It’s now or never, Hope.” She nodded at her reflection in the visor mirror and used the lure of a giant paycheck to shore up her courage before leaving the safety of her SUV.
Her spike heels, three inches high and fire-truck red, clicked on the pavement from the large parking lot across the street to the club entrance. Clammy hands smoothed invisible wrinkles out of her new black pantsuit. It wasn’t proper scene attire, but it would have to do, because even if her old corsets and lingerie hadn’t been too big on her, she wouldn’t have worn something seductive for a business meeting.
The red French doors loomed ahead and an invisible weight settled on her chest. Despite her work with a therapist and her progress, panic attacks still loomed like storm clouds.
Too tense, that was her. She poured herself into work, eschewing any distractions in order to build her client list. Maybe once she had her business up and running she could try to find vanilla recreations.
But no more BDSM. No more vulnerability.
She eyed the club and appreciated the irony. Myriad outlets for her anxiety could be hers for the night, if only she asked.
As nice as one night of submission might be, it would be a step backward. It would be her relying on someone other than herself.
One of Melina’s security team, decked out in leather pants and black T-shirt, opened the door for her. A quick thanks and she was inside, heading down the short hall to the main office. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, before temptation overruled her better sense.
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