Category Archives: eXtasy

Cemetery Dreams – Green Flash – On Sale!

Green Flash is my most recent book from eXstasy, appropriately published on Halloween 2009 and, like the other three, is on sale (25% off) at All Romance eBooks through September 23rd.

Green Flash is more romantic than some of my other stories, but there are strong elements of the supernatural woven through it too.

The novella tells the story of a young woman named Claire on a pleasure trip with her lover Ian to the annual bacchanal that is Fantasy Fest in Key West, Florida. Fantasy Fest is a celebration of sexuality, among other things, renowned for colorful public displays of flesh and eroticism.

But Claire really isn’t that kind of girl and Ian’s plans for body painting and threesomes are unlikely to happen. Claire works at a historical cemetery and she is more interested in the historic burial grounds at Key West than in sharing Ian with another woman. In the cemetery, she finds new friends, Dwight and Ashton, who seem to walk the line between the revelry of life and the mystery that lies beyond it.

The book’s title comes from an atmospheric phenomenon that is sometimes observed at sunset, and can sometimes be seen from Key West, when the sky turns briefly green as the sun slips below the horizon to create an eerily majestic demarcation between day and night.

In this excerpt, Claire has fled from the party into the sanctuary of the old necropolis to a grave marked by a statue of St. Teresa, where she meets Dwight, the companion of her other new acquaintance, Ashton.


Claire reached out to touch the base of the statue, her fingers caressing the marble. She thought about what he had said. “The dead need all the help they can get.” She stood, facing the statue and looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes glowed ocean blue in the fading light. “It’s not like they can fight back.”

Dwight chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that. Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

“I’m a sexton. It’s part of our job description to believe in ghosts. Alone in a cemetery, I think everyone does.”
He smiled. “You don’t get scared?”

Claire shook her head. “No, not really. I think ghosts are the dream images of those who have gone on to the next adventure. People who can’t let go of the past.”

Smooth as silk, confident as summer, his arms slid around her waist, the heat of his body pressing against her back, his iron strength not hostile or intimidating, but honest and true. His body formed so naturally to hers for a dizzying moment Claire wondered how she’d survived so long without this.

His lips touched the curve of her ear, the sensation a tremor that drifted toward her center. He exerted just a touch of pressure, an ounce of persuasion. His words floated through her ears into her blood. “Look,” he said, and with a trail of fingers down her arm and away from it, he positioned and pointed west. “Watch as the sun falls. Watch Teresa,” he murmured. The masculine musk of him filled her, churned long forgotten impulses. The hard bulge between his legs should have shocked, should have frightened her, but only wonder and an open, natural lust bloomed inside her.

The western horizon blazed with colors-the intense oranges and reds of the falling sun beyond the capture of any art, the line of deep purple clouds that hovered over an unseen sea blazing along the edges with white-hot sunset fire. She held her breath, her eyes locked on the brilliance beyond the headstones and monuments. Claire saw Saint Teresa’s sublime face bathed in the dying sunlight. Slowly, as if by a languid pour of magic, light danced around the statue, glimmering and winking gold and silver, ruby red and citrine. Claire pressed Dwight’s arm against her stomach, amazed, enchanted and somewhere deep within her, knowing. She felt Dwight’s smile, and as the glamour died with the fallen sun, she heard the voice she expected, that she wanted with all her heart, Ashton’s voice.

“They say the marble holds small particles that make the light dance, but I think it is magic, fire from the souls that are freed into the night.” Somehow, he had appeared before her, though she had not seen or heard him approach…

Seven Bites of the Apple – Passions of Pearl – on Sale!

In a tarot spread, the Seven of Cups sometimes signifies fantasies — each cup holds a vision. So when I agreed to write this book for eXstasy’s Tarot series, my first thought was a baker’s half-dozen dreams and wishes. But seven? I imagined seven cups, each belonging to a miner in a boarding house in Colorado, at the heyday of the great mines. Seven cups, seven miners, seven dreams.

Seven dwarfs.

Passions of Pearl is a long novella that tells the story of pretty orphan Pearl Frost working in a boarding house a few years before the turn of the 20th century and what happens to her when she falls under the spell of a wicked silver queen.

Here’s how it starts:

Lily Regis could not get enough of her own beauty.

Justin Prince watched her face, a perfect oval, ivory, skin as smooth as if a girl of twenty, only the shadow of a line here and there to show the passage of years.

And even those lines only graced the perfection of her features, eyes wide and blue as mountain skies, the delicate turn of her nose and lips that framed a mouth inviting ecstasy and ruin. Lily’s face hung in the mirror and reflected a hundred times in the faceted walls and ceilings of her boudoir.

Those perfect, crimson lips parted in a wild scream as Justin Prince thrust deep inside her. He mounted her from behind, his finger on her clit acted like the trigger of love’s own pistol.

Lily’s scream echoed and danced endlessly in the glass.

Justin thought of a white bird in a cage of reflective crystal, cascading around the walls and across a shining, depthless ceiling. She closed her eyes and moved with him, clenching her pussy to milk the last of his restraint, undeniable in the sweet pull and pulse. He clutched her breast and came, long and wet and deep inside the cunt of the most powerful woman in Colorado.
Fucking her was the kind of thing a man might lose his license over, Justin thought, or at least the contract with her husband, if old man Regis wasn’t way past caring.

“I’m gaining her confidence,” Justin told himself, even while he remembered that lying to a liar is even harder when you’re lying to yourself.

His spent dick shrank out of her and he gave her clit a last touch then stroked the ivory curve of her hip with deferential tenderness. She made a noise like a panther and collapsed onto the bed. The pale paradise of her back and bottom mesmerized him like a land where a man might live forever, a white island in the sea of red silk sheets.
Justin straddled her, his cock hanging in the cleft of her butt and she shifted beneath him, propping herself on her arms, staring into the depthless silver mirror beside the bed. He reached down between her legs and massaged the open lips of her cunt, smearing her, rousing her clit to slow stiffness.

Lily ground against his hand and tightened her ass around his lengthening cock. She spoke, but so softly he hardly heard her.

Then he realized she had not been talking to him at all.

“Tell me,” she whispered. “Am I still the most beautiful woman in the world?”


In last age of the great mines, there was a girl named Pearl Frost, who lived in the town of Eternity Springs, in the central mountains of Colorado. Pearl’s life had been very hard, but she had kept her virtue and, in time, had found a good job as the housekeeper and cook at Bighorn’s rooming house on Pike Road at the edge of town, between the curving breasts of two mountains.

In only twenty years, Pearl had already learned many valuable lessons. She had learned that most men were gentlemen regardless of their station, but that many of them, when offered a quiet moment, would whisper fevered endearments and attempt liberties.

Life in Bighorn’s rooming house was a constant education.

The spring had started damp and dreary, but on the first true warm day, a young man named Mr. Prince who said he was a poet, came to stay at Bighorn’s. Hardly settled in his small, windowed bedroom, he smiled at Pearl as she brought fresh linens to him and, when he approached her, his heat and fine smell sent strange shivers of excitement through her.

He smiled at her and, when he spoke, his voice was like thick honey.

“Young Miss Pearl, your skin is as light as whipped cream, and such hair—I’ve not seen such luster save that found in ripe blackberries fresh upon the vine. Lips, my dearest, your lips are like sweet, crushed cherries, and your eyes shine blue as the delftware found in fine parlors.” And as he spoke, his hands crawled up her skirt, gathering the rough wool so that his fingers brushed the cotton frills of her bloomers.

Pearl, not an innocent to such flattery, resisted, though she later wondered what might have befallen if she had not pulled away.


Don’t let the cover fool you either. It may feature a Chippendale dwarf, but the hot parts in this book are equal opportunity!

Pick up Passions of Pearl, and all eXtasy eBooks at All Romance eBooks for 25% off through September 23rd!