Welcome to the blog of Author H K Carlton — Variety is creativity’s playground — It’s where you’ll find me...
Thursday 26 November 2020
New Release Book Tour + #Giveaway - The Courtesan of Constantinople - by Tina Holland @haveubeenaughty [Archangel Revolution, bk 1] #SteamPunk #Romance
Wednesday 25 November 2020
Black Friday Week Reader's Catalog of Discounted Books! #BlackFriday #Books #Sale
Check out the Black Friday Reader's Catalog with 2020's popular books!
USA Today, NYT, and Amazon Bestselling authors with B-I-G discounts.
Sales last all week!
Take a look at the catalog - - >
https://mailchi.mp/7ef5cf13201f/black-friday-readers-catalog
This post is sponsored by
Tuesday 24 November 2020
Book Tour + #Giveaway - The Delphi Bloodline Series - by Donna Del Oro #CrimeDrama #RomanticSuspense
Friday 20 November 2020
New Release: The Payment - by Allyson Young @allysonyoung45 #ReverseHarem #Menage #MFMM
Eamon, Jonah, and Remy are brothers-in-arms, governed only by their missions. Compensation relates to the nature of the work—gold bars, precious stones, cold cash, or real estate. They share everything in a life that is both dangerous and rewarding.
Tasked with snatching a money launderer, they must include his personal assistant or leave her to the tender mercies of the men searching for him. They take Mallory as their payment this time around.
Mallory Strickland is a loner, the product of her past, someone who won't be at another's mercy again. When she finds herself permanently kidnapped by three men who have chosen her to be their wife, she rebels.
It doesn't matter if these men have supposedly saved her and profess good intentions—and are gorgeous, virile individuals—she refuses to be enslaved. Can she withstand their determined, sensual assault?
She can't—and at what cost…
Buy Links:Bookstrand: https://www.bookstrand.com/book/the-payment-mfmm
Teaser Excerpt:
A sting in my thigh…
My fingers sought out a tiny red mark, just above the hem of my skirt. It didn’t rate on the tenderness scale. So, I had clearly succumbed to a drug, expertly administered. At least I’d been spared the binding and darkness of the sack over my head.
Recalling the details helped keep the fear of the unknown at bay, and I resolved to garner as much information as possible. The way I’d done growing up, moving from home to home, never knowing the people or what they were capable of, but having that same dark suspicion of what they wanted from me.
Those men could have done me considerable harm—a blow to the head, to the face, something to quickly subdue me and avoid notice from the street—yet they hadn’t. So they wanted me … intact. I wasn’t sure how to interpret that other than thinking they didn’t want to damage the goods.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed to my feet, feeling the concrete’s rough texture beneath my soles. When I was confident I could stay upright, I tottered toward the wall with the tiny window set high, nearly at the ceiling. Once there, I touched the smooth surface, some kind of plaster, and followed it along to the bottom of the stairs.
I listened hard before cautiously ascending, one careful step at a time. With my ear pressed up against the solid wooden panel, I heard nothing and tried the knob. It remained rigid beneath my fingers, not that I expected it to turn and for me to walk boldly out of here. Wherever here was.
All the same, it took something out of me, and I sank down on the slightly wider top stair and contemplated my prison. And it was a prison. I had no idea why I was the sole occupant or what I’d done to deserve being held in this manner, but I appeared stuck. In an empty house.
I made my way back down, having spied a light switch, which turned on the single bulb hanging in the room. No longer reliant on the scant light from the high window, I commenced to exploring the rest of the area I was confined in. It turned out there was a pocket door tucked near a corner, and I slid it aside to reveal a small bathroom.
There was a sink, toilet, with a roll of tissue sitting on the tank, and a shower stall—sans curtain. A tiny bar of soap, travel toothbrush and paste, and a stack of folded paper towels were on offer—nothing I could see to escape or utilize against my kidnappers, if they were even coming back. I couldn’t say what frightened me more, being abandoned to perish in the crappy room, or facing whoever wanted me here.
I hurriedly made use of the facilities and cleaned up, noticing there was no mirror, either. I could only assume I looked a mess. I felt like one. Despite my efforts, panic began to build again, ratcheting up my heart rate and blood pressure.
To combat the feeling, I hustled back to the other room and took a turn around, examining every square inch visually and with touch. Given its apparent age, the place was really clean, smelling vaguely of bleach—no mouse droppings or spider webs in sight. Aside from the double bed, dressed in a fitted sheet, there was nothing else. Maybe a James Bond type could have dismantled the mattress looking for a box spring and picked the lock with it, but I fell short of the 007 status. Anyway, I figured it was made of pure foam. And the frame was one solid piece of metal.
The sheet resisted my attempts to rip it initially, and then I desisted. What would I do with pieces of cloth? Garrote someone? Set a trap on the stairs? Bind wounds? Hang myself?
My attention returned to the bed frame, calling up the dimensions of a full-sized bed. I stared at the window, mentally measuring the distance to the floor. Maybe… I shoved to my feet in the chilly room when I heard them. A door shut, and male voices sounded above, followed by footsteps—three sets of them, possibly four. I cursed quietly, having missed an opportunity.
I breathed deeply and snatched up the sheet for additional coverage. I sat, striving to look as unprepossessing as possible, my brain working hard, my belly tight with resolve, and my heart rate nearly under control. Time to size up the enemy. Prepared for anything.
Famous last words.
About the author:
Allyson Young aka Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in cottage country, Manitoba, Canada where she and her husband pretend to work well together in their seasonal business.
She has always enjoyed the written word, and after reading an erotic romance, quite by mistake, decided to try her hand at penning one. That was followed by a mix of spicy (Ally) and sweet (Peribeth) romances in various genres as well as a post-apocalyptic adventure without a lick of romance by Peribeth.
A bestselling Amazon author, a hybrid, and a coauthor, as of May 2020 she has published seven series and several standalones, with others in the works.
Thursday 19 November 2020
New Release: Pink Triangle: A WWII Gay Romance - by Lea Bronsen @LeaBronsen #Gay #HistoricalRomance #WW2
New ReleasePink Triangleby Lea Bronsen
Fearing and desiring the enemy... Sometimes you can’t choose who you love.
Oslo, April 1945
Paul is a handsome, free-spirited Norwegian in the prime of his life, but he doesn’t fit the German occupant ideology simply because he’s gay. And so, when the Gestapo catches him for producing illegal propaganda, he’s tortured and threatened to be sent to a German concentration camp with a pink triangle sewn on his shirt, the symbol for homosexuals.
It will take great courage and mind-blowing circumstances of luck, as the Führer commits suicide and the end of the war seems nearer by the day, for Paul to avoid his death transport to Germany.
And it will take the growing attraction of the Gestapo commander himself to regain his full freedom—and capture his heart.
#WWII #WW2 #Historical #Manlove #MM #Gay #Erotic #Romance
Available from
Books2Read / Amazon.com / Amazon.uk / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks / Smashwords
Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads
See photos that inspired me to write the book on Pinterest
Excerpt
A couple hours later, when the sun stood high and bright in the sky, the sound of horseshoes came from the garden. Paul had dozed in the hay, enveloped by the soft jacket lining and lulled by happy bird songs and the rustling of leaves outside, but the commander’s return had him sit up against the wall.
The horse’s hairy muzzle appeared in the crack before the big animal pushed the door open and stepped into the shed.
Heimlich sat straight in the saddle, bare-chested, slim but muscular in all the right places, his uniform folded across his lap. Paul tried not to gape at the sight. With ease and grace, the commander dismounted and hung his clothes on hooks on the wall. Drops of sweat pearled on his forehead and temple and rolled down his firm chest and abdomen, making his skin shine. So, so very sexy. He took off his hat, uncovering his dark blond hair slick with sweat—but it only accentuated the sexiness.
He turned to Paul and caught him staring. “What are you smiling at?”
Oops.
Paul straightened and regretted having let himself be carried away. “I wasn’t smiling.”
“Yes, you were. You think I’m not aware I look like an office rat? You need to rub it in?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know very well I could use more muscle, and that I need to strengthen my stomach.” He tapped his six-pack, which was perfect in Paul’s world.
“Well, that hasn’t crossed my mind.”
An understatement.
“Really?” The commander raised a brow. “Do you honestly like what you see?”
Holy fuck, what a question...
Uncertain whether the man realized what he’d just said, Paul waited a bit before he asked, voice low, “Are you honestly asking a homosexual if he likes your body?”
The commander blinked slowly. “When you put it like that...” With a goofy smile, he turned to gaze out of the shed and shook his head.
Paul allowed him a moment to recoup. He was tempted to tease, but didn’t.
When the commander returned to Paul, he pointed at him. “Forget I said that. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Yeah, I’m likely to forget...
They held each other’s looks for a while, the commander inscrutable.
“Listen,” Paul said, emboldened by the awkward situation. “I’m going to be very frank with you. I hate you with all of my heart—”
No reaction.
“—But when you parade around me like that,” he pointed at the man’s naked torso, “you make it difficult for me to...”
“To what?”
To not like you.
About the author
Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.
Meet Lea Bronsen on
Blog / Facebook / Twitter / BookBub / Instagram / Goodreads / Amazon
Wednesday 18 November 2020
New Release - The Pornographer’s Apprentice [The Toymakers Guild, bk 1] by Lisabet Sarai @LisabetSarai #SteamPunk #menage #Erotica
Hashtags/Keywords
#Steampunk #Menage #Lesbian #Bisexual #Dominance #Submission #Homoerotic #Bondage #Discipline #FemDom #VictorianEra #SexToys #Feminist
A Life Long Love Affair
I've always felt an affinity for the Victorian period. I was wearing high-necked blouses with cameos, long flowing skirts, and lace-up boots in my teens, long before they were fashionable. (The corsets came later...!) With my long hair parted in the middle and pulled back into a bun, I could well have been one of the heroines in the books I loved so much.
I was also a science geek from my earliest days. I received my first microscope when I was five, and my first chemistry set at seven. I entered every science fair. In seventh grade, I won grand prize on a televised science quiz show.
So it’s hardly surprising I’ve become a devotee of steam punk. I've been in love with this strange meld of science fiction and Victoriana for as long as I can remember – long before steam punk even had a name. When I was in high school, I devoured H.G. Wells and H. Rider Haggard, and shared a Sherlock Holmes obsession with my dad. Later, I marveled at Neal Stephenson's The Diamond Age and more recently, I discovered Gordon Dahlquist's incredible The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters.
I've written a number of steam punk short stories for anthologies, as well as a full length novel, Rajasthani Moon. All these tales, though, were set in Asia rather than in the British Isles. I think I was afraid I’d make errors my UK readers would notice if I tried setting a story in Queen Victoria’s home country. In my latest steam punk release, The Pornographer’s Apprentice, I finally bit the bullet and wrote an English steam punk novel. I had a lot of help with details from my critique group at the Erotica Readers & Writers Association, but of course I take responsibility for any residual mistakes.
I just hope you’ll find the story so exciting, you won’t notice them!
Tag Line:
She wants to build sex toys... if they'll let her.
Blurb:
In prudish, patriarchal Victorian England, nineteen year old prodigy Gillian Smith finds a secret society dedicated to the erotic arts. She’ll need both her intellect and her physical charms to earn the permanent position she craves.
Inspired by a salacious catalogue found in her deceased uncle’s library, she applies for an apprenticeship with the Toymakers Guild. The Guild fabricates bespoke sexual artifacts for the private pleasure of select clients – an occupation for which Gillian, with her technical abilities and her lascivious temperament, is eminently suited.
The other apprentices, initially skeptical about a female engineer, become enthusiastic supporters once they’ve tested her erotic aptitude. The voluptuous Governing Director, and the dashing French journeyman likewise help expand her carnal repertoire. The final decision, however, rests with the reclusive Master Toymaker, who has been missing for nearly two years.
When an unscrupulous nobleman sets up a competing enterprise, he threatens not only the livelihood of the Guild’s members but their lives as well. Gillian hatches an audacious plan to entrap the villain, save the Guild, and leave the absent Master no choice but to grant her heart’s desire.
If you like steam punk erotica with a kinky feminist bent, you'll love The Pornographer's Apprentice.
Series Blurb:
Defying the repressive morality of the Victorian era, the Toymakers Guild uses advanced technology to fabricate bespoke sexual artifacts for the discrete pleasure of select clients. Its members are not only brilliant engineers but also sexual renegades seeking freedom from the prudish society that surrounds them. These are their stories.
Buy Links
Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/8424-the-pornographers-apprentice-the-toymakers-guild-book-1/
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08MWMZZGP
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08MWMZZGP
Amazon Canada https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B08MWMZZGP
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1053072
Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-pornographers-apprentice-lisabet-sarai/1138144978?ean=2940164724573
Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/the-pornographer-s-apprentice-1
Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/55857159-the-pornographer-s-apprentice
Online Excerpt (live on 10 November):
https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2020/11/a-powerful-appetite-mfrwsteam.html
X-rated Snippet
“Reckon ye missed me, wench,” he grunted. “Ye’re wetter than Aune Head Mire.” Prying her thighs away from his body, he flipped them onto his shoulders and leaned in so that she was nearly bent double. Now Rawlings was totally in control. He seized her ankles and jerked his hips, nailing her with his massive rod. The power of his thrusts drove the breath from her lungs. Gasping for air, moaning with need, she let go completely.
Gillian Smith, engineer, disappeared. There was only Jill, wanton, hungry, shameless, aching and eager to take whatever he gave her. Rawlings’ cock battering her sex, his fingernails digging into her flesh, his harsh breathing and the musky, earth-tinged smell of his body – these were her only realities.
About Lisabet
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh