Wednesday, 29 February 2012

New Novella on Amazon

I've just published a new novella titled 'Deadly Sins'. This is a Melisa and Roy series a follow on from The Whitby Ghost. 

Deadly Sins is available on Amazon and from March the 1st it will go free on Kindle Select for 5 days.

Amazon US
Amazon UK
It is an exciting time for Melisa. She is pregnant and she is getting married. But there is a dark cloud that hangs over her life. Melisa is hounded by dreams again, this time actual murders. Melisa experiences each one as it happens.

The man in the black coat has also made himself a persistent feature in her life again. Melisa has become a threat to him. So he does everything in his power to destroy her.

Melisa pairs up with Detective Silverwood to solve the murders. With her dreams she helps guide him towards the killer. But what Melisa doesn't realise is that she is in danger. Her life and child are under threat too.

Saturday, 25 February 2012

Author Jeffe Kennedy

Today I'd like to welcome Author Jeffe Kennedy to my blog. She is touring with and has lots to tell us. Please take your time and get to know more about Author Jeffe Kennedy.

About Jeffe Kennedy

Jeffe (pronounced Jeff- ee) took the crooked road to writing, stopping off at neurobiology, religious studies and environmental consulting before her creative writing began appearing in places like Redbook, Puerto del Sol, Wyoming Wildlife, Under the Sun and Aeon. She has been a Ucross Foundation Fellow (2001), was a Wyoming Arts Council roster artist, when she lived in Wyoming, and received the state’s 2005 Frank Nelson Doubleday Memorial Award for a woman writer of exceptional talent in any creative writing genre and the 2007 Fellowship for Poetry. Jeffe has contributed to several anthologies, Drive: Women’s True Stories of the
Open Road
. (2002), Hard Ground (2003), Bombshells (2007) and Going Green (2009). Her first book, Wyoming Trucks, True Love and the Weather Channel was published by University of New Mexico Press in 2004. An erotic novella, Petals and Thorns, came out under her pen name of Jennifer Paris in 2010, heralding yet another branch of her path, into erotica and romantic fantasy fiction. Jeffe lives in Santa Fe, with two Maine coon cats, a border collie, plentiful free-range lizards and frequently serves
as a guinea pig for an acupuncturist-in-training.

Who Is Jennifer Paris?

I was doing the “Jeffe Kennedy writing as Jennifer Paris” thing, but Angela James, my editor at Carina, said no, no, no. Since I really don’t want to “flesh out” Jennifer Paris and tweet or blog as her (she was only a cardboard cut-out anyway), I decided to retire her. However, I have one book “Petals and Thorns” that is by Jennifer Paris.

Interview with Jeffe Kennedy
Hi Jeff Kennedy and welcome to Iris Deorre’s blog spot. First things first, please introduce yourself to us and tell us a little about yourself.

Okay, well, first thing is: my name is Jeffe! I’m a girl, so the extra “e” is important. This happens quite a lot.

What made you choose erotica?

I’m not sure any of us really “chooses” our genre – I think they choose us. Erotica is fun for me. I love the sexiness, but more, it lets me explore extreme intimacy between people. The exchange of power and the giving up of control is fascinating and exciting to me. That’s why I write it.

If you were one of the characters in your books who would you be and why?

Maybe with Taylor from Sapphire. I’d like to be taken over for one night like that.

Is there a book you enjoyed writing more than the others, if so why is that?

Not really. I hate to be all “I love all my kids,” but I really do love writing all my stories. Maybe it’s fairer to say that, the stories I don’t love writing simply don’t get written. There’s more than a couple of those lying in the fragments file…

What are you currently working on?

I’m working on a follow-up to Sapphire that I’m calling Platinum. The hero is a Hugh Jackmanesque artist bad boy. SO much fun to write!

Besides writing what else do you enjoy doing?

I love to read, walk and garden. I like movies and travel. Sitting in the sun and drinking wine. I’m a simple pleasures kind of gal.

What does you ideal man look like and what would be his most important traits?

For me, I like them wiry with dark hair. Skinny Irish boys for me! But really, how a man looks doesn’t matter all that much. Someone with passion for life and who doesn’t impose their expectations on me – that’s the winning combination.

What is your favourite movie?

A movie I never tire of and watch over and over is the Keira Knightly version of Pride & Prejudice. Just brilliant.

What is your favourite food?

Does wine count? If I could live on wine, I would.

What irritates you the most? It could be anything, doesn’t matter how strange.

Lately it’s the YDIW attitude. “You’re Doing It Wrong.” I’m getting tired of people telling other people that they’re doing it wrong, whatever IT may be.

Where do you see yourself ten years from now?

On a white patio overlooking the Aegean? That could be pretty wonderful.

Thank you for joining me today and all the best for the future.

Thank you Iris!
 Take a peek at Jeffe Kennedy's books

Feeding the Vampire
By Jeffe Kennedy
Publisher: Ellora's Cave
Date Published: August 3, 2011

Through good luck and healthy cowardice, Misty has survived the earthquakes that have torn the world apart, but has no skills to speak of. Or so she thinks. She does have blood, and someone must feed the vampire who has offered his protection and strength in exchange for sustenance. Feeding Ivan is a priority, and Misty finally serves a purpose. But when she awakens tied to his bed, an unwilling gift to Ivan from the townspeople, she discovers he has hungers other than blood. Hungers he expects her to satisfy in the most carnal manner. Under his seductive persuasion Misty discovers she has the power to sustain Ivan in all ways, while experiencing unspeakable pleasure herself.

I was compelled to feed him. I had no choice, really.

Earl cleared his throat. “Thank you.” Our town administrator looked around for agreement, but they weren’t meeting his eyes either. Like kids ducking the teacher’s gaze. “Thank you, Misty. We all appreciate your…” He trailed off uncomfortably.

Sacrifice? Surely no one wanted to hear that word aloud. Martyr to the cause?  No, not much better.

Earl shuffled the papers in his lap. Waiting for me to get to it, I supposed. Well, he had just said that feeding Ivan ought to be the first order of business. We couldn’t very well make plans for our community while the guy in charge of our defenses wilted before our eyes, especially since we needed him alert and focused. Me? I was pretty damn expendable. I hadn’t brought much to the table so far, except my survival, which really was accidental. Right place at the right time. Turns out stolid New England was just the right place to be for the particular form this apocalypse took. Granite bedrock and all that.

My boring hometown was a safe haven and everyone wanted in on our resources. The people turning up every day were let in or turned away depending on what they offered. I counted my lucky stars I’d been grandfathered in simply because my neighbors didn’t have the heart to kick me out. Excellent keyboarding skills and a customer-friendly personality didn’t count for much in this economy. Especially without, um, customers or working keyboards.

I couldn’t afford to be a useless mouth to feed. Their hearts would harden—they already had. Tonight was pivotal. We’d acquired a vampire of our own for defense. Everyone felt better about our future—if we could keep him happy. At least I knew how to make blood. You could say I was a natural. And yet, the certainty that had propelled me to my feet seemed to be bleeding away, frightened off by Ivan’s fixed intensity and everyone else’s obvious relief. They waited, restless, for me to just get on with it. Uncomfortable silence.

Hi, I’m Misty and I’m a Fool. I haven’t done anything really unwise in twenty-seven days. Kind of a record for me really. Apparently I was due.

The vampire just stared at me.

I set my yellow pad on the chair and made myself walk across the circle to where he sat in the tacky folding metal chair. My sandals slapped lightly on the tiles, making tinny echoes. Ivan’s roving gaze sent tremors of anticipation up my thighs.

A few murmured conversations resumed. They probably didn’t like the creepy silence any more than I did. I appreciated their polite attempt not to gawk. I’d never seen a vampire feed—probably none of them had either. I stopped in front of Ivan. He leaned back, long legs sprawled out in careless indolence. He tilted his head at my hesitation and held out his hands as if to help me down from a carriage.

“Perhaps we should step out of the room?” I tried.

“I haven’t the strength to stand.” His grave eyes watched me with avid intent.

If I ran, he would definitely find the strength to hunt me down. After all, he’d walked into this room. Heck, he’d arrived at the bridge leading to our sleepy town only last night, offering his protection in return for our shelter and sustenance. He had to have gotten there somehow.
He wrapped his long fingers around my wrists, cuffing them with bands of steel. Exerting steady pressure, he drew me closer, parting his lips. White fangs gleamed with fluorescent highlights. My heart thumped in panic, hot fear filling me.

“Will it hurt?” My voice sounded thready, weak.

Hunger flared in his eyes at the question. “It always does.”

Ivan snapped me against his hard body. The sharp movement splintered any second thoughts. He pulled me astraddle his lap. My cheap cotton dress hiked up alarmingly. The chafe of his dark denim jeans sent tremors up my fully exposed thighs. Shame and terror flashed through me.

Then all thought and emotion burst in flame, immolating me through the fierce violence of his teeth sinking into my throat. The agony of the deep puncture, fear feeding pain, fired through my blood. I struggled like a wild thing, without thought. Animal instinct screamed at me to flee, to escape by any means possible.

The vampire held me trapped. There was no escape for me, the mouse flailing under the cat’s paw.

My will, never my strong point, snapped. The fight ebbed away with the tide of my blood. The steady drop of pressure left me enervated, without resistance. Darkness filled my brain, prickled with sparking stars. I wilted, becoming a bit of detritus washed upon the shore of Ivan’s body.

Pain filled my veins, pumped through my heart. It replaced my blood, spiraling through my body from the insistent penetration of Ivan’s teeth in my throat. Helpless against the crashing waves, I relinquished my last hold on consciousness and sank into the hot, tarry sea of oblivion.

By Jeffe Kennedy
Publisher: Carina Press
Date Published: October 24, 2011

A successful executive, M. Taylor Hamilton is on track with her ten-year plan. Too bad her personal life consists of hitting the gym and grocery shopping. Enter the seductive Adam Kirliss. They may have a working relationship, but everything changes at an office party when he handcuffs her to the rail of a yacht. Taylor writes the adventure off as too much champagne, but when Adam challenges her to a date, she agrees to meet up with him. And follow his rules. They share a night of exquisite intimacy, brimming with both pain and pleasure. But afterwards, fearful of losing her heart, Taylor pulls back emotionally. Adam is determined to prove that she longs for the loss of control he can give her – and the passionate release it provides. How can he make her see that he wants her, and not just her body?


Kirliss captured her other wrist and held them close in front of her, his warm fingers massaging her skin, while he studied her face. The boat surged over a wave, disturbing her balance. Kirliss’s unusual eyes caught the light, boring into her.

“This is silly,” she tried.

“Do you want me to make you stay?”

“What?” Taylor choked. She couldn’t let him treat her this way. “No! You’ll do no such—”
She lost her breath entirely when he pressed up against her. Thinking he was trying to embrace her, she pulled away and found herself backed against the brass railing.

By the time she gathered her flustered thoughts, her wrists were handcuffed to the rail behind her. Mortified, a bit afraid and—worse—suddenly and wildly aroused…

Petals and Thorns
RWI More Than Magic Finalist
Genre: BDSM Fantasy 
In exchange for her father’s life, Amarantha agrees to marry the dreadful Beast and be his wife for seven days. Though the Beast cannot take Amarantha’s virginity unless she begs him to, he can and does take her in every other way. From the moment they are alone together, the Beast relentlessly strips Amarantha of all her resistance.
If Amarantha can resist her cloaked and terrifying husband, she gains his entire fortune and will be allowed to return to her family and a normal life. But the Beast seduces her at every turn, exposing, binding, tormenting, and pleasuring Amarantha until she no longer knows her own deepest desires. Increasingly desperate to break the curse that chains his humanity, the Beast drives Amarantha past every boundary. But her desire for a normal life may jeopardize the love that will save them both.
Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play, BDSM theme and elements, dubious consent. 
Excerpt Petals and Thorns

The wedding ceremony took place deep in the woods.

The chapel looked innocent in its white prettiness, as if a normal wedding took place there instead of this monstrous farce.

At first Amarantha had wept. When her father had arrived home on the magnificent stallion, his arms overflowing with luscious red roses and saddlebags full of gold coins, and told the wild tale of the Beast who wanted Amarantha and only her, she’d been at first astonished, then enraged. She’d thought of running away, but her father and sisters had talked Amarantha around. The Beast had promised wealth to restore her father’s fortunes and more. They assured her that the Beast wouldn’t kill her.

“He saw your portrait and finds you beautiful,” her father crooned. “It will be a marriage in name only. You need not lie with him” — he snickered — “if the creature is even able to perform as a man. Likely he is too deformed and wants only a pretty wife to look upon.

“Remember” — the merchant took his youngest daughter’s slender hands in his as they stepped down from the carriage — “if the marriage is not consummated within one week, then he has agreed to have it annulled and to settle upon you half of his fortune! All you must do is retain your chastity for one measly week, and any ninny can
“He only has to take her by force,” Anastasia scoffed.

“No,” a deep voice rumbled behind them. They started like finches when a hawk flies over. No one had heard the Beast arrive.

He stood back, tall and broad shouldered as her father had said, watching from the depths of his cloak. The winter wind caught the black folds, whipping them tight against his massive body, but never stirred around his face. Amarantha couldn’t make out his features, though she thought perhaps she caught the gleam of a white tooth. And was that the shadow of a muzzle?

She shuddered, looking away quickly.

“No, Amarantha,” the Beast said, “I will never take you by force. I will only take you when you ask me to. That one choice, at least, will always be yours.”

Amarantha stirred uneasily inside the confines of her corset. Something about his words seemed…unwholesome somehow.

Angelica laughed brightly and clapped her jeweled fingers together in a graceful flutter. “Then we are saved! For, Sir Beast, though we cannot see you clearly, we understand that you are so hideous that no woman would willingly have you. Perhaps your beastly exterior reflects a similarly feral and corrupt heart?” She waved a languid hand at Amarantha. “Else why resort to blackmail to obtain a bride?”

“Indeed” — the voice sank into a near growl — “sister of my bride. You are undoubtedly correct. But since blackmail has, in fact, won me a bride, I’m anxious to take possession of her. Shall we?”

Amarantha gasped and stepped back when the Beast moved toward her, dark and sinuous. But he only offered her his arm to escort her into the chapel. She took a deep breath, as deep as her tight corset allowed.

After the short ceremony, Amarantha kissed her father and sisters good-bye. She couldn’t seem to hear what they were saying to her, only that she had promised to obey this man. This monster.

“Do you take this man, Sir Beast… Do you promise to love, honor, and obey?” the chaplain had asked.

The word seemed to reverberate in her skull. Obey. Chased by the image of how his eyes had glowed at her sparking amber from the depths of his hood. Love and honor seemed to pale before the other word. Amarantha possessed enough cleverness to avoid shaming him, and she could pretend to love him. Obedience might not be so simple. She almost felt his sigh of satisfaction at her promise, as if something that had pained him suddenly eased.

Amarantha wished she could feel the same.

In his carriage, they rode facing each other, though Amarantha gazed steadfastly out the window as the forest deepened and thickened. The trees grew more gnarled, the roots thrusting up from the soil only to twist away again, diving into the moist ferns covering the soil. Still, it was easier to keep her eyes on the strange landscape than look at her husband’s shrouded form and wonder what horrors it might contain.

“Am I ever to see you?” she asked.

“Do you wish to?”

Amarantha glanced at his black silhouette. Looked away again.

“It occurs to me it might be easier to see you and” — get it over with — “learn to become accustomed to you.”
“Consider that I might be so frightening to you that you would be unable to bear coming near me again.”

Amarantha trembled.

“No” — the Beast chuckled darkly — “these things are best done in stages. I intend to win you over, lovely Amarantha.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Because you are innocent,” the Beast said, his voice nearly a growl. “And you have not discovered how I can make you feel.”

“I have. You make me feel fear. And revulsion.” She looked out the window. “Despair, perhaps.”

“None of those are real, Amarantha.”

She forced herself to look at him. “I must tell you, I don’t see how I can ever be your wife in truth. I cannot imagine asking you to — ”

“To take your maidenhead? To rend you with my cock so that you scream in agonized pleasure?”

The shock drained Amarantha’s cheeks of color. Even as the image somehow stirred her.

“Sir Beast, you cannot say such things to me.”

“It seems, my bride, that we must stretch your imagination as well. The only thing I may not do is take you by force. Everything else is open to me.” He settled back in a very masculine satisfaction. “If you intend to keep the bargain that saved your father’s life, that is.”

Amarantha bit her lip. Her father had wept even as he handed her into the Beast’s carriage. Had he realized? Her virginity wouldn’t matter at the end of the week if she was dead.

“Amarantha.” The Beast leaned forward. She shrank back, but he only laid a gloved hand over hers. “I swear I will not injure you. Your beauty is precious to me. I would not see it marred in any way.”

She restlessly moved her hands out from under the black leather of his glove. A mistake, since his hand fell to her knee instead, a heavy weight through the thin cloth.

“I will wish to see it, however,” the Beast said, gravel in his voice.

Amarantha’s heart stuttered. “See it?”

“You, in your naked glory. When we reach the house. In exchange, I will not touch you just yet.” He leaned back again. “I mention it now so that you might mull the idea over.”

Amarantha drew in a breath. “I do not think I shall become peaceful with the idea in that space of time.”

“You mistake me, my bride. Peaceful is not how I want you.”

If he’d intended her to think about it, to imagine herself naked and vulnerable in front of his black-cloaked figure, then he succeeded.
keep her legs closed that long. Remember it every day, and the week will fly by. Soon you’ll be at home again with us, our fortunes forever secured.”

Monday, 20 February 2012

Writer Em Petrova

Today I'd like to welcome Em Petrova to my blog. She's on blog tour with tell us about her book OUTLAWS OF LOVE.

About Em Petrova

Em Petrova lives in backwoods Pennsylvania, where she raises four kids and two feral kittens and pays too damn much for utilities. But seeing her sexy husband tromp out back with a chainsaw in hand is well worth the frustration of living miles from a mall. She adores writing sex scenes and anything paranormal. When she has the opportunity to mix the two, she’s in her element. You can learn more about her smutty reads at

The French Kiss
By Em Petrova

February is the month of love and romance, and what’s more romantic than a French kiss? So did some very sexy and alpha Frenchman actually start this worldwide level of intimacy? After a little research, here’s what I found…

Since the French are known to have a symbol of love (the Eifel Tower) and the most romantic city (Paris), they’re also been labeled as sensual and promiscuous people. They were the first people to accept public displays of love and affection such as kissing. And so the term “French kiss” was associated with these passionate people.

One theory is that the French kiss is actually a derogatory, stereotypical term used toward the French during times of war. A common phrase was that rather than fight, the French would rather make love with their faces. Perhaps this, in addition to the country’s reputation, is how the term came about.

According to some sources, the French kiss dates back to at least the 1820’s. It was rampantly used in the 1920’s when it was said the French were engaged in acts of love when the rest of the world was not.

Many other terms are incorrectly used like French toast and French fries. Neither have an association with French history or language. Maybe you’ve heard the term “pardon my French.” This use began as a slam against the French, who must certainly be using bad words! *clears throat*

What most likely began as a way to insult the French became one of the most sensual and popular ways to express intimacy. There’s nothing like a long, tongue-dueling kiss in real life, in books, or on TV. I, for one, applaud the French for helping this term come about!

Please read on for an excerpt of my latest release Outlaws of Love, now available from Loose Id.


Available from

Upon traveling west to marry, Annabelle Stephens longed to leave her nickname of Sweetheart Annie and the strict rules of Boston society behind, but the taboo freedom she faces wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. When a sexy outlaw storms into her rented room and kidnaps her, she’s embroiled in a dangerous game with not one man, but two.

Until now Xander Hollis wanted one thing—or maybe two—to stop the Southern Gorge Railroad from stealing the homesteaders’ land, and to act on his desires with his partner in crime James. Like Robin Hoods of the old west, he and James embark on a mission to rob from the rich and give to the poor. When he refuses to let go of the woman who could identify him, he finds he’s in true danger. Danger of losing his heart to the heiress of the very railroad corporation he struggles to bring down.


James leaned in and drew a deep breath, his nose inches from her hair. She tensed in response, but her body throbbed. Her nipples tightened almost painfully. Xander gripped her waist and plucked her off her feet, settling her astride in the saddle. She tried not to wiggle to ease the ache between her thighs even as she avoided James’s steady gaze.

“What is your mother like?” She hoped to distract him from her need, though the spark was quickly growing to an inferno.

“You’re going to love everything about my ma,” Xander said, vaulting up behind her. He tucked her tight against his chest with his familiar arm locked around her waist. James crossed to his horse and loosened the rope keeping it from running away.

“His mother’s the best cook in the world.”

“Better than yours, James.”

“No lie.” The man hitched his foot into the stirrup with the barest of winces and seated himself atop Switchback.

Xander probed her ear with his tongue, and his cock jammed harder against her buttocks. “James’s mother burns everything.”

“I used to pretend to eat my meal and then ran like hell across the fields to get to the Hollis Ranch in time for supper.” He set his heels into his horse, and they took off.

Xander didn’t immediately follow but nuzzled her throat. “You’re so goddamned alluring, Annabelle. I need you.”

She twisted, threw her arms around his neck and drew him down for a kiss. The instant their lips brushed, a series of explosions detonated in her core. Her nerve endings pinged. Her breasts grew heavy with need. And her pussy pulsated, begging to be stroked. Stretched. Filled.

“Please, Xander. Touch me.”

“Mmm.” His chest rumbled against her side. Gliding a hand over her knee and up her inner thigh, he located the V of her legs. Through the fabric of her dress, he rubbed her heated folds.

Grasping her skirt, she hitched it up to expose her pussy to his fingers. She stole a glance at James’s back. He was still riding, either giving them a moment of privacy or oblivious to the fact they weren’t following.

Xander’s hard lips commanded hers. At the first touch, she opened her mouth to him, and his tongue swept inside. He tasted the walls of her mouth, his tongue working deeper against hers. When he strummed the bundle of nerves between her thighs, she gasped.

Quivering with need, she writhed against him, seeking more of his maddening touch. The blaze of desire in her belly was uncontrollable. If she didn’t get release soon, she’d go insane.

She’d tossed out her inhibitions and admitted that she craved his touch. When he stroked her, she lost all sense of time and place, which couldn’t be a good thing. She was about to arrive at the Hollis family ranch, where people would surround them day and night. And James couldn’t be far away, could he?

Xander tore his mouth away. “How long will it take, baby doll?” How many times do I have to do this” -- he circled her clit once, twice -- “to make you come on my fingers?”

“Oooh.” Flashes of delight sparked behind her eyes, and her world narrowed to include only Xander’s leather-and-musk scent and the pressure of his callused fingers against her sensitive tissues.

Even when the hoofbeats of James’s horse sounded nearby, she couldn’t open her eyes and make Xander stop. He parted her thighs with one hand, exposing her completely to the air and surely to James’s gaze.

Xander’s words drowned out all cares. “That’s it, baby. Come for me. Feels good, doesn’t it? Your pussy is so pretty, all tight and wet. Your clit so swollen. You want to come for me, don’t you?”

In a blinding burst, she splintered. Wave after wave of blissful sensation washed over her. She clung to Xander, her gasps suddenly swallowed by his kiss. He ground her nubbin into her body, extending her release. Cream soaked his fingers.

James gave a soft moan.

And Annabelle’s eyes shot open. The man was mounted not five feet from them, his horse dancing slightly. James’s gaze was riveted between her thighs.

Xander lifted his head, looked right at James, and thrust his finger deep into her body.

A haze of rapture settled over her as another orgasm broke over her. The waves pounded her, the pinnacle sharper and more fulfilling than the last. Sensation ripped through her, and she stopped breathing for a minute. When she cried out, James’s gaze flashed to hers, caught and held. As her release pounded through her muscles, she couldn’t look away if she wanted. She was trapped again -- between Xander’s adept fingers and James’s stimulating stare.
Em Petrova
~where words mean so much more~