Today I’m treating you to a submissive summer treat with an exclusive excerpt from Sweet Surrender, a tale of discovery set in the summer sun.

If anyone you keep up with me on facebook or twitter you will know that there is only 4 more sleeps until I go away to Scarborough for a week long holiday and I cannot wait.

If you’re a regular reader of my blog or my books you also know that Scarborough is my most favourite place in all the world! That is why it crops up in my stories so often. Keep checking back to the blog this week for excerpts and free stories all based in Scarborough and enjoy the taste of a proper English holiday by the seaside.

Now onto the submission, so to speak!

Sweet Surrender is the story of Helen’s holiday. She’s just broken up with her boyfriend and finds herself in the sunny, bustling Scarborough surrounded by Love Birds and just as she’s about to give up and go home she meets Tom. Tom is a confident photographer who offers to take her around the sights but by taking the tour Helen discovers more about herself and her submissive desires than about the sweet, seaside town.

She couldn’t believe he’d tricked her into taking him up to her room so easily. A few words and her barrier had collapsed. Part of her suspected she didn’t really want to protest, that it was just the last vestige of her instilled propriety talking, not her. It’s not like she was normally such a walk over. She was seen as a bit of a bitch at work. She would brook no nonsense and even the most enthusiastic sales person faltered under her weighty stare. Tom seemed to bring out the vulnerability in her, and Helen was so busy wondering why that she missed the top of a step, and toppled forward.

“Are you alright?” Tom’s hand was instantly on her thigh, preventing her from falling further.

“I, I, I think so.” She gasped, turning to her side, and resting one thigh on the stair, before shifting her weight so she could perch awkwardly on the little ledge. Tom knelt before her, running a hand up and down the front of her leg, checking the knees for scratches.

“You might have some interesting bruises come tomorrow, but that’s all.”

“I’m so clumsy.” She shook her head, the tears threatening to spring forth again.

“It’s easy done, love,” he soothed, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

Tenderly he dropped his lips to her knee. Gently he kissed the reddened flesh, making Helen’s heart jump with delight and her pussy clench with arousal. A little moan escaped her lips, and a wicked glint entered Tom’s eye.

His lips slipped higher, tracing up the inside of her thigh, lifting her skirt higher and higher as the kisses climbed, making her tummy flip like pancakes tossed by a showy chef.

“Not here.” She hissed. “Anyone could come up here at any moment.”

“In the middle of the day?” Tom paused for a moment, glancing into her eyes. “The tourists will all be out; the maids will have made the rooms already.” He continued to kiss up, and Helen placed her hands on his shoulders to get him to stop, but as her lips parted to protest, his lips kissed hers.

An electric pulse flickered up and out, engulfing her whole being but focusing between her thighs. His tongue flipped out and she let go of a little gasp, then a low growl as that tongue lapped up and down, parting her lips and caressing the damp velvet concealed inside. Again, her mind went blank, and not until she became aware of the hard pressure in the small of her back did she remember where she was.

“No,” she said, once again and once again he stopped. He pulled down the bottom of her skirt and smoothed it out over her thighs. He stepped back a step, allowing her the room she needed to stand and turn around. He squeezed her bum as she moved to take the next step, and her face flamed with the heat that diffused her body.

“God help us when I get you into the privacy of your room,” he growled, walking up the stairs directly behind her, eager to taste and touch all he was craving for.

The joy of being an author, of having a job that I love is that I get job satisfaction at every turn. Just sitting down to blank document brings me joy, the first word typed is always a thrill.

I don’t even have to be physically writing to get excited. The moment an idea pops into my mind I come alive and I enjoy every moment of developing that one thought into a scene and a scene into a story. I am blessed to have such a love for something that also makes me some money.

And of course, I get a thrill every time a story is taken on by a publisher, every time a contract drops into my mailbox or a royalty cheque comes my way. A book cover design is always something to gladden my heart and day of release find myself as giddy as kid after school on a Friday filled up with sweets and with a weekend of fun ahead.

But there is a thrill so much bigger and better than any of that, something that comes with a certain satisfaction that goes very much deeper than any of the other joys I experience whilst writing or going through the imaginative processes. This thrill comes when I finish writing a story. When I write the very last word and I know that that is it, the story is complete.

Now, you may argue that it isn’t so. It needs editing and it may get swapped and changed about at a later stage but I would argue that that is all cosmetic. The minute I write my last word is the moment of completion and I feel a great relief, a great release as that happens.

This morning I typed that last word on my latest story. “Getting Intimate” it is in the hands of my publisher now and I wait, a little nervously for good news. It is the sequel to “Getting Physical” and will, in the end, be followed by another story, to finish it and turn it into a trilogy. I am very excited about it because Terri and John are very dear to my heart and I have really enjoyed writing with them again.

For those of you who haven’t read “Getting Physical” here is the Blurb, the excellent cover and a short excerpt from the book. It’s available as a single title ebook and is also featured in my print anthology “Curvaceous“.

Terri is a BBW who really does not enjoy going to the gym to exercise but she really loves the view of John’s hard, pumping thighs.

John is always at the gym, working on his definition. He thinks he’s lanky and scrawny and is convinced the sexy, curvy new girl will never look twice at him.

A twist of fate brings them together, but will they be able to get over their own insecurities and take advantage of the season of love? It is Valentine’s day after all.

An Excerpt:

“Ah, yes. You must be Terri. I’m Mark, and I’m going to show you round
the machines.”

Mark looked like such a big, fit gym freak, but he was very nice as he
took me around the different pieces of (torture) equipment. After a
quick go on everything, he left me to my own devices to do a bit more
on the machines of my choice.

After the treadmill, I wanted to do something that involved sitting, so
I found a rower that was free and sat my fat ass down on it. I didn’t
feel as massive and blobby as I thought I might. There were a few
“real” people in there that evening, but there were also some very
intimidating thin and sweaty individuals.

One particular fit fellow caught my eye. He was peddling away on a bike
as I rowed, and my eyes were repeatedly drawn to his pumping thighs.
His legs were long and lean beneath his black shorts. The arms that
showed below his sleeveless T-shirt looked strong and manly. I reckoned
they could give a very good hug; also I was pretty sure they’d not let
a man down whilst fucking missionary style.

I took a deep breath and turned my concentration to rowing. Such a
lean, thin and gorgeous man would never look twice at this boring,
brunette blob anyway. Well, I suppose I have some pretty impressive
breasts—natural and still quite perky—and my bottom may be big, but it
is wonderfully squeezable, or so I’ve been told. But the kind of guy
who hones his body to such an extent was not going to want a gym-shy
girlfriend like me. If he’s around in the future when I popped in to
work out, at least I’d have something nice to look at.

He was still peddling away like Billy-o as I gingerly got up from the
rowing seat. My knees ached, and my back protested loudly. I thought I
should use just one more instrument of torture for the day, then I
could legitimately call it quits. The exercise bike was not too
torturous and could be used to effectively wind down; the problem was
the only bike left was next to the health god I’d just been drooling
over.

I almost chickened out then and there, but Mark must have seen my move
towards the bike and misinterpreted my hesitation.

“Can you remember how to use the bike?” his deep, powerful voice boomed
from the reception desk behind me.

“Yes. Yes, thanks.” I turned my head and smiled at Mark. Next thing I
knew I was peddling sedately along next to the guy with the nutcracker
thighs whilst trying my hardest to keep my gaze straight ahead. In
spite of myself, I kept glancing to the side to admire the mellow brown
of his skin and the deep, dark black of his hair. It was short at the
back and sides and peaked into multiple spikes upon his head. Very
cool, very fashionable, and another visual pointer to the impossibility
of him ever being attracted to me.

Just like my beloved Manchester United! (Yes folks, Manchester United won the premiership again today, wooo hoo!) Anyway, away from football and onto Erotica.

Scentsual is up in the whipped cream reviews vote for the Best book of the week as Azalea gave it 4.5 cherries out of five in her thorough review.

This is a snippet of the review for you:

“If you like visions of the English seaside, hot, kinky sex and good food, this book is definitely for you.”

and then you can read all of it here.

Then pop on over and give Scentsual your vote, I’ll be a very happy bunny if you do!

Thank you.