Guest – Doris O’Connor

Thanks so much for having me here today with my paranormal BDSM story Her Imaginary Lover.

Did you have an imaginary friend as a child? I bet he felt very real to you. What if these imaginary friends were real, however? And what if, not all of them were nice friends… What if there was a whole other dimension…

Such is the premise behind Her Imaginary Lover.

To Macie, Kaylom has always been real. Blind from birth, she never realized other people couldn’t see him, until her parents started to doubt her sanity, and eventually she sent him away.

That was fifteen years ago, but Kaylom is back now, and Macie is not a child anymore…

HIL2

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/her-imaginary-lover-by-doris-oconnor/

Blurb:

~Editors Pick~

When your imaginary friend turns out to be real, there’s only one thing you can do—have the best sex of your life.

Macie Johann’s ordered world is thrown into chaos, when she is attacked on her way home from work. The muscle bound hunk that comes to her rescue would appear to be naked? Okay then, maybe she has hit her head a bit too hard, but then again no one else seems to notice him, and there is something very familiar about this guy.

Blind from birth Macie has learnt to trust her senses, and they all scream at her to grab her chance of true happiness with the man, who makes her body and soul sing. Never mind the small fact of his not being human.

When their actions get Kaylom yanked back into his dimension to stand trial, Macie follows determined to fight for her man.

 

Excerpt:

Macie grinned at the sound of smashing crockery, as he kicked her legs apart and urged her forward until her torso lay prone on her table. With her breasts squashed into the wood, and his hand applying pressure on her shoulder blades, she had nowhere to go. A shudder went through her when he stepped so close that his hair roughened thighs touched the back of her legs. His heavy erection slid along her pussy lips, and she knew she was coating him in her juices. They slid down the inside of her thighs.

The mere fact they were doing this here, now, in her kitchen added another layer of deliciously naughty to the whole experience. Her kitchen faced a busy main street, and she had no curtains up. In theory anyone would be able to see in and see what they were doing. A giggle escaped her at the thought. Not that they would see Kaylom. They would no doubt wonder at the strange woman who lay naked along her table.

Kaylom’s chest molded itself along her back, and a little nip to her shoulder focused his attention back on him.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

A sharp pinch to the side of her breast made her gasp. That sting traveled straight to her clit, and she wriggled her hips to relieve the resulting ache in her pussy.

“Nothing, is it? I think my little munchkin needs to be reminded who’s boss.”

He lifted off her, and she moaned at the loss of his body warmth. A smack to her ass ground her pelvis into the edge of the table, and she bit her lip to stop from crying out. That felt way too good. He soothed the sting with his hand, and then spanked her other cheek with considerably more force than the first swat. Macie yelped and squirmed under his hands, and his chuckle seemed to echo around the room. It only served to stoke her excitement further. Kaylom ran his hands up and down her spine and then up her arms taking them with him. He curled her fingers over the opposite edge of her small table.

“Keep them like this and don’t move, or I’ll have to tie you to this table, do you hear me?”

“Yes,” she said, and all the breath left her lungs when he smacked her ass with so much force she slid further up the table.

“Yes, what?” he asked, and this time there was no mistaking the edge of command in his voice. He yanked her head back hard, and his hot breath skittered across her sweat slicked flesh as he nipped at her lips and throat. A feminist would have a field day with her right now, but fuck her, if this display of his dominance didn’t turn her on even more.

What had he said? His kind demanded their mates to be submissive and calling him “Sir” was a token of respect.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, and he kissed her with so much passion, it took her breath away.

“Good girl. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that.”

She blinked back tears and held onto the edge for dear life when he grasped her hips, and pulled her down the table until her ass hung off it.

“You’re so fucking wet for me baby. You want me to fuck this sweet ass of yours, don’t you?” His breath felt cool across her slick folds, and his fingers dug into her thighs as he spread her wider, and Macie lost the ability to think at the first touch of his tongue.

He licked her from slit to clit and back again, until she was so close to coming she didn’t even know what the sounds were spilling from her mouth.

Seconds before she reached that all elusive peak, he withdrew, and she thumped her head against the table in frustration.

“Bastard, err, Sir.”

He laughed and then rained a series of hard swats on her ass that left her breathless and even wetter.

“Oh your butt reddens beautifully under my hands, my sweet, and let’s gets one thing straight. I will not tolerate you using cuss words. Your mouth is far too pretty for anything that nasty to come out of it. If we were in my realm I’d shove a gag inside that foul sounding mouth and then strap a vibrator inside you with just enough force to keep you on the edge without coming. How would you like that?”

Macie shook her head and swallowed nervously.

“No, Sir, thank you, Sir, I wouldn’t like that at all.”

The air displacement gave her a second’s warning before he tunneled his tongue into her pussy hole, and she climbed back up those delicious rungs of tingling bliss before he once again withdrew.

Macie keened her disappointment, and he delivered several more open handed swats to her ass, before he attacked her swollen and sensitive pussy again.

Macie lost count how many times he spanked her and then revved her up again before withdrawing. Time lost all meaning. All that mattered were the painful swats to her ass that morphed into blissful heat, which suffused her entire body until she felt on fire for this man.

From far, far away she heard his voice eventually, and she flinched when something cold hit her ass crack.

“Sorry, my sweet, this will only last a moment.”

http://www.dorisoconnor.com/her-imaginary-lover.html

Add it to your Good Reads list:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22449639-her-imaginary-lover

 

      

Author Bio:

Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris… at least that’s what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.

There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.

She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

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Guest – Karen Faris

Hi Melissa. Thanks for hosting me.

Pleasure is all mine. I’m always happy to feature a fellow Whimsical author.

I have to tell you, I think my characters are a little intimidated by how hunky and hot it is over here.  The only thing that’s hot in Grumbles is the weather. 72 and sunny every day.

You’re too funny. But thanks! Not that Hector or the infamous Weatherman are anything to sniff at! Dragwood either! What girl doesn’t love a pirate with savvy fashion sense?

Speaking of heat, have you heard about Cli Fi fiction yet? It’s a kind of riff on Science Fiction. It uses elements of climate change as either the backdrop to the story or the story itself.

In fact, Karen I have. My book 12 is Cli Fi, too.

You’re so prolific. I have a hard time keeping up with all your different kinds of stories.

You’re so sweet. That’s great that you’ve written a climate fiction novel. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about Grumbles. Book One is already out?

http://www.amazon.com/Grumbles-Novel-Book-One-Take/dp/1936167913/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1402061548&sr=8-1&keywords=grumbles+the+novel

 Grumbles

 

 

So this is Book 2? Take Another Pill?

Grumbles 2

http://www.amazon.com/Grumbles-Novel-Book-Two-Another/dp/1940707064/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1402755988&sr=8-2&keywords=grumbles+the+novel

Right. Obviously, with titles like these, the story is a comedy! It’s also a satire. And there’s lots of fun with words, puns, allusions, even illusions.

It’s a near future story filled with madcap adventure where our heroine, secret agent and agony aunt, Pettie Grumbles, has to save the world from an evil weatherman. She befriends a boy named Toga and begrudgedly, takes along his dog Emma on their quest to stop the man from ruining the planet with his evil weather ways.

In Book 2, their adventures continue.   They meet up with all kinds of people, from the debonair Dragwood and his 24/7 poker game, to accepting the hospitality of a Trollman (by the way don’t!). They wander a bike trail filled with camels and caravans uncertain of how exactly they will destroy their nemesis. Oh, did I mention, there’s 3 twins?

Come on. How’s that work?

You’ll just have to read the book. But just so you know, that question won’t be answered until book 3.

Sounds like a lot of fun. Did you have an excerpt?

Thought you’d never ask.   We begin with Pettie stranded on a channel marker in the St. Lawrence River. She’s about to be rescued. Or is she?

Out of the dark, a long, low barge emerged, illuminated by strings of light, squares of interwoven red, blue, and or- ange, the riparian signal that all parties were welcome. As the boat picked up speed and the engines churned away, the flags of Canada and the United States fluttered and snapped in the breeze. Wafting above them both, in all its orange and black splendor and pride, the Progressive Plunderer flag flew. From the breeze came the wheezing hiss and scratch of vinyl records as they crackled through ancient speakers. Voices aboard the ship hung in the evening air that was already heavy with laughter and the smell of cigars as perfume and flirtatious promises beckoned. That vessel, that glorious ship, could be none other than the legendary River Queen.

Behind the turbines, the water ran deep and turbulent, capped by white waves and a strong eddy. The River Queen came up as close to the rocky shoal as she dared.

I took a deep breath and jumped to my salvation, pro- pelled to my destiny by the encouragement of two awaiting figures on the boat. I caught the cold metal of the railing, then felt anguish as the railing slipped from my numb fingers and I fell backward, toward the black water tumbling over rock. I closed my eyes in anticipation of my fate, but death spurned me, and I was plucked from the water’s icy embrace.

Two burly men, with the telltale tattoo removal scars on their bulging biceps, dropped me onto the deck without much fanfare. The faces of my would-be rescuers told me they’d been at sea a while. They had the square, three-month-old, speckled beard growth of seamen, one with gray glitter and the other with amethyst, a signal of their importance not only on The River Queen, but also as up-and-coming players in the rising mercenary class. They had certainly earned their pirate stripes. They smelled of fried onions and garlic and a scent I could only refer to as “eau de man.” The one with the amethyst glitter licked his lips and glanced at his shipmate, then back at me, making me uncomfortably conscious of how my clothes, soaked and ripped, were clinging to my body. My shirt made a wet, sucking sound as I pulled it away from my body, spraying them with water in the process.

I wasn’t sure if they knew who I was nor was I about totell them. In the spy world, you could never be sure who worked for whom. There were plots and conspiracies, counterplots and counter conspiracies, and that didn’t even touch the Machiavellian machinations, the manipulators, and the mavens and mavericks of malice. I stood up and just like it said in the Sociopathy 101 manual on artifice called: How To Make Friends and Influence People, I put on my best ‘This isn’t going to hurt’ smile. “Good evening, gentleman. I hope saving me isn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

 

You can follow Karen on twitter either as @karenafaris or as @GrumblesNovel.

Her Grumbles novels are available at: http://www.whimsicalpublications.com/newreleases.html

 

as well as on Amazon and B&N.

 

She has a short story single up on Kindle Direct that has nothing to do with Grumbles the Novel but has everything to do with our contemporary world.

 

http://www.amazon.com/The-Flower-City-Chronicles-Make-ebook/dp/B00IPUL94S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1402061352&sr=8-1&keywords=flower+city+chronicles

 

 

Her Grumbles novels are available at: http://www.whimsicalpublications.com/newreleases.html

 

as well as on Amazon and B&N.

 

She has a short story single up on Kindle Direct that has nothing to do with Grumbles the Novel but has everything to do with our contemporary world.

 

http://www.amazon.com/The-Flower-City-Chronicles-Make-ebook/dp/B00IPUL94S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1402061352&sr=8-1&keywords=flower+city+chronicles

 

Check out the Grumbles website. http://grumblesthenovel.com

 

For a glimpse into Karen, check out her interview with Allison Christie.

 

http://allisonsarah16.blogspot.com/2014/05/my-interview-with-karen-faris.html?spref=bl