Tag Archives: Erotic Authoress Spotlight

Synopsis

Sex and politics can be an explosive combination. Beatrice, wife to a conservative lobbyist, can’t imagine being out in the open about her preferences and orientation, but lucky for her, there’s A Perfect Dream. Secret parties that only the privileged have access to fulfill every fantasy and need she can think of. Beatrice didn’t count in meeting Sage, a woman who not only satisfies her in every way, but challenges everything Beatrice has believed about herself so far. 

EXCERPT

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet, before you go off on your own,” Piper said, brushing her hand over Beatrice’s chest, and down to her stomach. In the room next to theirs, things had quieted down. “Wait here for a moment?”

Beatrice obliged as Piper got up to cover herself with the robe. She took a deep breath, taking in the room, decorated in loving detail, for the first time. The pink and white tones made her think of dessert, and she smiled to herself. This weekend was all about the most delicious desserts anyone could imagine, and maybe she’d indulge in sweets as well. She deserved this. She needed this. Closing her eyes, she imagined all the things that would happen in the next forty-eight hours, every fantasy possible coming true. She hadn’t cared much for the blindfold the last time, though she’d wanted to try. Getting tied up, or restraining the woman under her hands–that was a different story. Walking into a dark room, tumbling onto a soft surface, being caressed by more than one pair of hands and lips until she wouldn’t be able to tell how many…She was starting to feel light-headed, aroused by the images in her mind.

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” Piper’s amused voice made her eyes snap open. Beatrice had only a split-second of feeling self-conscious in the presence of the two women who had joined Piper. Both of them were beautiful, but the curvier one with the chestnut-colored hair held Beatrice’s gaze a moment longer. They were both wearing the robes, but not for much longer, Beatrice assumed.

“Meet Sage and Tara,” Piper said. “If you’re okay with that, they would like to hang out with us until dinner.”

“I’m very much okay with that.” Beatrice looked at Sage, long enough for the woman to blush and start to fidget. Beatrice hoped she was okay with the arrangement as well. She couldn’t wait to touch and taste her.

“I’d like to…in the bathroom, if you don’t mind,” Sage said.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that?” Piper sounded amused. “Tara and I will be here in the meantime. I know you like that, Bea. We’ll wait until you two have enough water in the tub, so you won’t miss a thing.”

It was crazy, unreal and thrilling to casually discuss the sex she was going to have with a pretty stranger, with Piper and another attractive stranger right there. A pair of screen doors separated the bathroom from the master bedroom, the en suite consisting almost only of the spacious tub. With jets. Her knees felt weak again.

“I appreciate that,” she said, aware of Sage appraising her naked body. Fortunately, the water pressure was strong, and it didn’t take all that long to fill the tub. Sage waited by the screen doors, arms wrapped around herself. Maybe she was self-conscious, or maybe she didn’t talk that much. Beatrice didn’t mind. At this stage, everyone coming together–a nice pun that was–had consented to sexual activities, details to be specified. It meant that whatever happened in that bathtub, it would be highly enjoyable for both of them.

She added honey scented bubble bath, and finally, Sage gave her a somewhat reserved smile before she let the robe fall to the floor, allowing Beatrice a once-over before she climbed into the tub. Beatrice followed her.

On the bed, Tara and Piper were favoring a slow start, caressing each other, kissing softly.

“So you like to watch,” Sage observed. She sat down in the opposite end of the tub.

“Among other things, yes. What do you like?”?

Synopsis

© 2014 by Jen Cousineau

Veronica’s life was right on track. Attending University of Wisconsin – Green Bay and trying to complete her final year, she had amazing friends, was happily in love with her best friend, and was just working to make all of her dreams come true.

One night changed her whole world. What was supposed to be a girl’s celebration for her friends twenty-first birthday, turned into the worst mistake of her life. Veronica makes a deadly bet that destroys everything she loves.

Four years later, Veronica has a life-altering decision to make. Stay for all the loves of her past and hope for the best or plan an escape for the ultimate love of her future.

If she breaks her word and leaves, can she keep her loved ones safe? Can she survive if she fails?

SNEAK PEAK!

© 2014 by Jen Cousineau

I pull up to my Dad’s house and see that I’m the last to arrive. The only place to park is across the road. Great. I have to carry all the presents in, and the road and drive look as if I could ice skate on them. Perfect. I wonder if Katie and Ben will help me with them later.

The shades of the great big picture window are open. As I step out of my trailblazer, the cold air bites at my face taking my breath away. I take in the view of the yellow Cape Cod with red shutters framing each of the windows, the red door with the same Christmas wreath Dad hung every year. My sister Katie and I made it when we were kids—it took us hours and it’s a hot mess—but Dad loves it.

My eyes move back to the window, and it appears that they started the festivities without me. I see Lorelei, Katie’s daughter who is three, on my brother, Ben’s shoulders as she tries to hang an ornament towards the top of the tree. Instead, she drops it right onto Ben’s head, and I see my Dad’s grin spread from ear to ear as he tips his head back in laughter. Laura, my stepmom, embraces him in a hug while standing in front of the ginormous tree that my sister Katie insists on Dad getting every Christmas. Katie and my sister-in-law Sam are sitting on the couch, probably gossiping as I can see the back of their heads.

My nerves of what I have to tell them dissolve as nostalgia fills me from deep within. Witnessing the happiness that they hold makes me long to go back to how everything used to be. I feel the smile spread on my face—an unusual feeling that I haven’t experienced in quite some time. I can’t help but stand there and stare. It’s a perfect moment. The last perfect moment before I ruin everyone’s Christmas and strip away their securities. Maybe I’ll wait until after our holiday celebration to tell them. Feeling relieved about my last minute decision, I start walking across the street.

Everything changes to yellows and oranges in a flash. The heat on my face feels to be melting my skin. Before I realize what’s happening, something hits me on my head, knocking me to the ice cold ground. What the hell? I hear a hiss and a loud, high-pitched wale of a scream. That’s when I realize the hiss is a fire that stands where my father’s house stood only moments ago. The scream is coming from me.

The perfect moment is gone. Oh, shit. What the hell have I done?

Writing for My Readers

Hey romance reading folks,

A dissatisfied reader recently said I write about the same things (BBW women getting the hero) and it was old. Hmmm. When I wrote my first plus-size romance back in 2000, (The Fall of Troy , which is published by Ellora’s Cave), there weren’t many books that featured untraditionally sized heroines. Most romance novel heroines were slim. When I approached my editor about the possibility of writing an erotic romance featuring a BBW, neither of us knew what to expect. However, The Fall of Troy was so well-received, my editor suggested I write another plus-size romance. I declined. Readers started writing and asking for a sequel so I finally relented and wrote Full-Bodied Charmer, which was also well received.

Both books resonated with a portion of the romance reading public who was/is full-figured and wanted to read about heroines with which they could identify. At the time, there weren’t many romances that featured BBW as the object of the heroes’ desire in an erotic setting. Then some of my friends who found love across racial lines complained that interracial romances were difficult to find. So I started writing those. Some of my first I/R books were nonstarters so I had to make the hero and heroine the same race or to downplay the I/R aspect to get them published. I faced even more opposition when I decided to have the secondary characters in my Bloodlust series have a same-sex relationship. I was told to either tone down the scenes drastically or better yet, keep the same-sex love scenes off stage if you will. Then I was told that readers weren’t into books with babies in them anymore so the last book in my Bloodlust series was never written because the heroine was pregnant.

On another note, one of my BBW books (Skin Deep) resonated so much with one author that she decided to plagiarize almost all the love scenes and put them in her book. She got rave reviews for a book that included my love scenes so I guess sometimes writing the same thing can have benefits and pitfalls.

Looking back on the last fifteen or so years, I’ve had to battle uphill to write the books I wanted to write the way I and my readers wanted me to write them.

These days, thankfully, readers can feast on countless romances of all heat levels featuring BBW heroines, multicultural relationships, same-sex ones, and nearly anything else they might like. All these elements are ones I included in my books years earlier after much opposition (often from my editor and publisher).

Thanks to very supportive readers and the new dynamics of writing and publishing, I now get to write what I and my readers want me to write the way we want it written. So do I write the same thing over and over again? I write what my readers want to read. And many of them are women of a certain age and want a break from books where the hero falls for the slim, beautiful, twenty-something heroine. With reader encouragement, I’ve started a new series called Mature Men.

Not all women are slim, beautiful, or twenty-something. But all deserve to be able to lose themselves in a romance that reflects who they are. The men in this series won’t always end up with the typical romance heroine (of course it’s been awhile since I’ve written books about typical romance heroines).

But my heroines and heroes are now getting older (like me and my readers). The first book in the series is called Long, Slow Second Look and features a BBW heroine, who has very average looks. I based Amber’s character on a co-worker, who despite being average looking and plus-size, had most of the men in the office where we worked drooling over her. She had a great personality and self-confidence. Like my former co-worker, Amber never doubts that she has just as much right to be swept off her feet as any other woman.

I’m hoping my readers and others will embrace the series as they’ve done with my other efforts when I battled up hill. So please battle with me again. As always, I love to hear from readers. Please email to let me know what you think and what does and doesn’t work for you.

Excerpt:

He was at the baby grand, his head bowed as he played each note with perfection. Lord Elton John would be proud of how well Veikko was playing Someone Saved My Life Tonight. The keys were hit with passion and agony. I lingered in the doorway of the living room as he lost himself in the song, or so I thought.

“Come sit beside me, Piglet,” he said, jarring me from my appraisal of him, the piano, the muted light in the corner, and the tumbler of liquid sitting within easy reach. Whiskey, if the smell was any indication. Not sure if I liked his nickname for me or not, I nonetheless moved closer to him. He glanced up, his long fingers never missing one key, then he jerked his head to indicate the bench. I moved behind him to sit primly at his side. Yes, it was whiskey in the tumbler. The smell was a thick fog around the man. So he had drunk his dinner tonight. That boded well.

“Tell me, Piglet, have you ever had a man break your heart?” he asked his accent slightly thicker from the ingestion of who knew how much Jack Daniels.

“Sure.”

“I get no other details than that?” His hands moved across the keyboard smoothly, leaving me in yet a deeper hole of disbelief. I had come into this job with a massive number of misconceptions about athletic types. Veikko was shattering all my stereotypes. Not only was the man not dumb, he possessed all his teeth, he was a lover of fine art, a philanthropist, a highly skilled pianist, and a deeply emotional human being who was now begging, in his own masculine way, for me to commiserate with him. Maybe it was the booze that had him beseeching in as manly a way possible for heartache tales.

“He was a college guy.” I sighed, hearing the lyrics written by Bernie Taupin clearly in my mind. “I was sixteen, he was twenty-one. He got what he wanted and I never saw him again. Typical, right?”

He said something unpleasant in one of his two native tongues that if translated might have made a sailor gasp. It sounded really vile.

“Hey, it was years ago, but thanks for getting all big brother about it, Pooh.”

His snort surprised me. As did the gentle elbow he pushed into my side. “Shy little Piglet needs a burly Pooh to defend her honor from time to time.” He chuckled, obviously a bit drunker than he should be given he had to play tomorrow night. “I am sorry he hurt you. You have such a good soul, kind and caring, not filled with conceit and self-absorption.”

Well, what did a person say to that? Going with the usual response I have ready for random acts of kindness, I muttered thanks while wishing I had let my hair down.

The music stopped. I found myself being drawn to look at him, even though it would make me flushed and unable to speak properly. He was too close. His eyes far too hooded.

“Sing for me,” he whispered. “I wish to hear the words. They are good words for tonight, don`t you think?”

Wetting my lips my eyes roamed from his face to the whiskey. Maybe I needed a few fifths as well.

“I`m really sorry about things, how they happened, I mean. You and she seemed…looked so good together, well, I think if you want me to sing you need to play.”

“Thank you, Piglet.” He exhaled, pressed his lips to my cheek then started at the beginning of the song once again. My lips were rather disappointed that I didn`t turn to catch his mouth with mine. I could have. I should have. It would have been so simple: just a turn of the head at the wrong, or right depending on your POV, moment. His lips on mine, just for a minute in a startling kiss that would lead to something hot, carnal, and as everlasting as the peaks of Mardavia.

Those kinds of moments don`t happen for skinny, shy chicks though. Closing my eyes, I began singing about east end nights, slip nooses, and thanking God for music that pulls us through.

Blurb:

Excerpt:

The sight of myself in the mirror excited me. I’d put on a few pounds over the years, but the added inches were in all the right places. I had what you’d call an “hourglass figure.” I stepped up on the platform in front of the three-way mirror and checked the rear view. My thighs definitely looked better from the front, but my butt was nice and round. The fullness was in proportion to the rest of me. I put my hands on my waist and focused on the frontal view, the one I’d show Mark first.

The black demi-cup bra trimmed in red lace pushed my ample breasts back up where they used to stand by themselves pre-baby. The matching black thong had the same red lace trim along the elastic that stretched snugly across the curve of my hips. Both items had slits for easy access to my hot spots. The short sheer baby doll nightie had tiny black lace shoulder straps woven with narrow red ribbon. The entire thing would probably slip off in an instant.

I lowered my shoulder, and sure enough, the nightie fell to the floor. The feel of the smooth material against my skin stimulated my nipples, and they perked up pink and hard through the openings in the bra. I giggled, and tweaked them. A surge of heat traveled through my body, and I felt a bit unsteady, so I sat down on the sofa. I decided that it was probably hunger that was making me feel woozy and grabbed a couple of crackers off the tray.

The food steadied my queasiness, and I decided to try on the corset, thong, and garter belt combo. I was midway through changing when Blondie, the store owner, came back in.

“How’s it going? Need any help?”

“Um, yes,” I said, holding up the garter belt. “Should I have some stockings to attach to these?”

“I’ll get you some. Before I do that, though, let me help set the proper mood in here.” She stepped over the entertainment center to flip a few switches and turn a few dials. A scantily clad couple popped up on the flat screen television, and I realized it was a porn movie in progress. “I’ll be right back,” Blondie said, and disappeared beyond the curtain.

I was mesmerized by the couple on the screen. It took only a few minutes of watching them for me to realize how limited my sexual experience truly was. I thought the erotica I was reading was the work of some good imaginations, but clearly people really did do these things—and to each other. Although I was initially engaged with watching from an informational standpoint, I found myself getting highly aroused as I watched the woman drop to her knees to caress the penis of her lover with her hands, tongue, and lips.

The camera came in close, and I could see this couple was engaged in the real thing. I felt my own juices start to flow, and I realized I was standing there with no bottom on while I waited for Blondie to return with stockings. I sat down on the couch and began to stroke between my legs as I watched the man ejaculate in her mouth. The look on her face said she was receiving the best gift ever.

Within seconds of the two of them expressing their rapture, he lifted her onto the bed, and she fell back, legs wide open, bent at the knees. He spread her further apart with one hand, and the camera zoomed in close. He set his mouth down on her, and I watched as he worked her clit with his finger while licking and sucking her. Although the movie audio was turned off, I could imagine her screams of pleasure as she writhed up and down.

I was so engrossed in the visual, I barely realized I had my thumb circling my engorged clit with three fingers inside myself, moving in time with the couple. I stopped abruptly. Blondie was standing inside the curtain holding a package of hosiery in one hand and a long box in the other. I was horrified to be discovered mid-masturbation in her store, but Blondie smiled at me with the look of open friendship.

“Good, I see you’re relaxing.”