Sharing a Snippet from The Phantom of the Opera!

Have you ever read one of the classics and wondered was happened behind those doors, curtains, trees? Yeah, us too. As you've seen, we've brought you the stories with those thrilling bits included. Here's my addition to the line, The Phantom of the Opera.

Why the Phantom? Well, I've been asked a lot to change the ending. I won't give it away, but some aren't thrilled with who gets the girl. I liked the way the book worked out and I loved the idea making the story line sizzle. I also enjoyed the challenge of sticking with Gaston Leroux's plot line. He's got a complex story going on there, but there were so many little places where a little heat went a long way! Yes, working with the time period and language of the day wasn't always easy, but it helped me to appreciate the little things, like not having to wear so many layers of undergarments! Grin. Want a taste of the Phantom? Keep reading!

Here's the blurb:

The Classics Exposed…

A chance sighting at the Opera, fated love, and three lives in turmoil.

One man pledges to own her, while another wants her heart. The Opera sets the stage for romance and intrigue. In the catacombs below the building lives a man rife with sorrow and passion. The Phantom. But he’s not content to live alone. He wants to possess the one woman who can set him free.

His Christine.

Viscount Raoul de Chagny doesn’t believe the rumours of a Ghost living below the Opera. He only has eyes for Christine, his childhood friend and first love. Together they embark on a sensual journey of discovery and fiery desire.

But she can only have one man. Will love raise her up or tear their world apart?

Available here!

Teasers are so great, aren't they? I'd love to share a snippet from Phantom with you! Happy Holidays!!!

“What are you asking of me?”

“Your submission. Allow me to direct you as if I were the composer of one of your songs. Do you trust me?” Raoul smoothed a lock of her hair between his fingers. She smelt of flowers, a most intoxicating scent. Although she trembled in his arms, she met him for a kiss. Christine whimpered. Damn the blanket and the layers of fabric between them. He longed to feel her body next to his. He parted her robe and shoved the garment from her shoulders, leaving her in her nightgown. He swiped his tongue along her bottom lip and palmed her breast.

“Raoul,” she gasped, but didn’t swat him away. “I trust you.”

“Let me make you feel the magic.”

Christine stared at him a moment. “What do you want me to do?”

“Give me what I want. Can you do that?” He unbuttoned the top button on her nightgown. “Show me the depths of your soul.”

“I can.” She whipped her nightgown up over her head, exposing her body to him. Her rosy nipples peaked and the flush spread across her entire chest.

Raoul shrugged out of his nightshirt and tugged her back onto his lap. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, he lost himself in her sweetness. His desire to conquer her took over. Christine slid her hands up his chest and twined them behind his head.

“Do you still wish to learn? This will not be what you expect.”

“I do.”

He sat back on his heels and hazarded a glance to the door to reassure himself it was locked.

“Raoul?”

“I do not wish to be interrupted.” He grabbed the chair at the small table and dragged it to the couch. “Sit.”

Christine hesitated, then moved from his lap to the edge of the bed. Raoul eased her onto her back. He crawled between her thighs. “I will pull out so I don’t leave my seed inside you, but I cannot guarantee this won’t hurt.”

She nodded, but didn’t look particularly agreeable. He braced himself on his knees and one hand. With his free hand, he stroked her cheek. “I will make you feel precious when I’m done.”

“I’m yours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tarzan Tasty Teaser!

A steamy snippet to whet the appetite for Tarzan's brand of raw, lusty loving...

He's watching Jane - his new obsession - getting ready to bathe in the forest lagoon he's brought her to after saving her from one of the great apes.

Tarzan’s cock surged again. He curled his toes and gnawed at the inside of his cheek. The anticipation of Jane removing her camisole was the greatest torture imaginable. Worse than waiting for prey to walk into his path when his stomach was rumbling, and much harder to bear than the years without knowledge of his species. He watched nervously, excitedly, as she swept her gaze around the treeline, as if checking for spying eyes. Then, apparently content that she was entirely alone, she furled her fingers beneath her camisole and slid it, slowly, inch by agonising inch, over her head. With a flick of abandon she tossed it onto the rock that was holding her other, neatly folded clothes. Then she pushed her hair from her face, throwing it over her shoulders as she arched her back and closed her eyes.

It was all Tarzan could do to stay in that tree, for his body was primed like a bull, each one of his perfect muscles taut and ready for action. Jane was exquisite and his desire to touch her, taste her, there on her chest, was almost overwhelming. His cock tingled with want, his bollocks drew up tight into his body. A glistening bead of sweat formed and trickled from his temple down to his jawline where it sat, unnoticed by him.

Jane opened her eyes and stroked a hand over her right bosom, removing a tiny insect that had been attracted to her flowery scent. She then hooked her fingers into the waistband of her embroidered white drawers and pushed them to the floor.

Tarzan felt as if his breath had been stolen from his chest. His heart beat as though he’d been racing through the jungle, his pulse thrumming madly in his ears and clattering dangerously against his rib cage. The neat triangle of blonde hair at the juncture of Jane’s thighs was all he could focus on. If the urge to kiss and touch her beautiful breasts had been powerful, then this feeling was almost violent. He salivated at the thought of kissing her there, between her legs, touching her, testing her tightness with his fingers. He wanted, more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life, to sink his rigid cock into the clutching wetness he knew would be waiting for him in Jane Porter’s body.

It was sheer iron will that kept Tarzan in the tree—but it should be remembered that even iron has its snapping point.

After laying her drawers on the rock that held her other clothes, Jane turned, naked, to the lagoon and took the couple of steps down the bank to the water’s edge. She hesitated, toes dipped into the water, and glanced at the cascading fall to her left.

Tarzan stared at her, captivated by her pert behind. Two globes of the palest flesh, each one about the size of his hand. In many of the stories in One Man’s Urge, Cecil liked to palm and squeeze his women’s behinds and Tarzan could now see why. Jane’s bottom looked thoroughly squeezable, and certainly he would like to stroke its contours, learn the shape and texture of every delectable curve.

As a butterfly flitted around her head, Jane waded into the water, moving from the shallows to where it came up to her waist. She gasped at the coolness then sank her shoulders under, her hair floating behind her, and took several strokes toward the falling water. When she reached it, she stood again, exposing her upper body, and faced the bank where she had left her clothes. She tipped her head back, into the waterfall, shut her eyes and smoothed her hair until it became a shade darker with wetness and clung in one long rope down her back.

Tarzan jumped silently from the tree.

Not bothering to remove his loincloth, he entered the lagoon, his face a steely mask of determination and his cock not deflating a fraction, despite the chilly water. He could sit and watch Jane no longer without interacting with her. For too many years he’d been without human contact, and now here was contact of the most wondrous type. His need was exacerbated by his arousal, his arousal enhanced by the sheer beauty of Jane. There was nothing he could do to stay away from her, the pull was magnetic.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this excerpt from Tarzan of the Apes.

Lily x

Katrina Van Tassel - Coquette or Innocent Lass?

Katrina Van Tassel is the heroine of the classic story, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, by Washington Irving. He describes her as "a blooming lass of fresh eighteen", but also as "a little of a coquette". When I set about retelling the story as an erotic romance, but of course leaving all of the original text intact, it wasn't too difficult to develop the more erotic side of Katrina's character.

You see, Katrina is a tease. She knows that she is the most desirable young thing in the hollow. After all, she is "universally famed not only for her beauty, but her vast expectations", heiress to the richest farm in the area, and she would also show off "a provokingly short petticoat, to display the prettiest foot and ankle in the country round". It's easy to understand why all the eligible young men in town were hot on her trail.

It is also inevitable that there would be a feud over Katrina's charms, and her hand in marriage. Of course, in order to give the reader a more explicit look into how her suitors hoped to win her favour, I needed to show just how far Katrina was willing to go to make her decision. It was pretty far. Very far in fact. Here's a little excerpt:

“Ichabod, how is it that you have taken so long to suitably woo me?” asked Katrina, once they had reached the other side of the barn, which was set upon a hill behind the Van Tassel residence, and out of sight of her father’s eye.

“Why, my dearest Katrina, I would never want you to believe of me that I should be hasty or uncouth in how I present myself to you. But you must know that your charms are the grandest I have ever encountered in my travels, and there could never be another one of the fairer sex that I could find more pleasing.”

“Those are wondrous words that you speak! How I long to believe them true. But when I am with Brom, his enthusiasm for me extends beyond dainties and doilies. He has manly talents that he shares with me, ones that I never knew existed until but recently, and I wish to be wooed in that manner going forward. Pray tell, do you judge me wicked for wanting such things?”

“Aah, my sweet Katrina, all of God’s creatures are filled with desires for His created pleasures. That you are able to revel in all of your senses indicates to me that you are even more worthy of my suit! I would never judge you or criticise your yearnings, as I hope you will not criticise mine.”

Katrina smiled at him with a most inviting gaze. “Then Ichabod, shall we go to my special hideaway in the barn? There is an area in the loft that I have claimed as my own, and as my father’s gout prevents him walking too far—or climbing ladders—and my mother is too occupied with her household duties, we shall be free to express our true feelings for one another without fear of annoying interruptions.”

Ichabod nodded his head in joyful acquiescence, and gestured for the comely lass to lead the way. He was secretly grateful that another man had broken down the hallowed gates of Katrina’s maidenhood, because in his experience the mere sight of his manhood elicited gasps of fear, and many times a changing of the mind in untried ladies and inexperienced men. Instead, he would have the advantage of comparison between he and Brom, for he was sure no cock in the county could measure up to his glorious offering.

---

To find out just how far the lass Katrina goes - pick up your copy HERE

Tortured Heroes by Lily Harlem

For years tortured heroes have captured our imagination - just look at Heathcliffe in  Wuthering Heights and Mr Brocklehurst in Jane Eyre - and they have instilled in us a need to nurture and to understand.

As an author I enjoy having characters that are a bit quirky, both heroes and heroines, and I've certainly had a few tortured heroes. One that spring to mind from my recent Total-E-Bound release is Tarzan from (of course) Tarzan of the Apes.

Tarzan is a unique hero. He is raw male, and it is the lack of civilisation in his childhood that has made him the man he is. I loved this about him, he wasn't constrained by manners or society and just took what he wanted - Jane.

But of course this also makes him vulnerable, especially when he reaches the modern world. I think that is what makes tortured heroes appealing, they have a determined streak mixed with a need to be understood, yet they fight this need, until of course the right woman (or man) comes along.

You can read more about Tarzan of the Apes on my website, listen to that famous yell, plus find buy links (print and ebook). 

Thanks for stopping by,

Lily x

Ichabod Crane - Stud or Dud?

Hi everyone - I was actually just over at Hitting the Hot Spot a few days ago discussing just how hot and sexy Ichabod Crane is. Okay - you can stop laughing now. No, really - stop!

As it turns out, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow was originally only a 12,000 word short story that was part of a collection that also included the classic Rip Van Winkle. Uh - no - Rip Van Winkle is not sexy - trust me on this one. My joint venture with Washington Irving on Sleepy Hollow, however, eventually swelled to approximately 37,000 words. And - ahem - that wasn't the only thing that swelled!

I'll confess I was a little concerned at first about Irving's descriptions of Ichabod. Phrases such as "His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, and a long snipe nose..." was hardly going to get him nominations as hunk of the year. But his rabid courtship of Katrina, and her "coquettish" response to him - left the door open for both hanky and panky. There was also the denouement of the story that introduced a mysterious third character. Now just how did this man know so much detail about the two would-be lovers, Ichabod and Katrina? Was he perhaps a participant? ANd to help make up for his lack of studly good looks, it turns out that Ichabod's nose wasn't the only overly large appendage he featured.

So let's review: amply endowed hero, fresh young vixen, mystery man - oh - and a little BDSM, and what do we have? A very erotic classic offering. In keeping with Irving's voice, it also has the feel of a romp, so it's more on the light-hearted side. But don't worry, that despicable headless horseman still gets to come out and play.

To find out just how skilled Ichabod is with the ladies, and men, you'll have to pick up a copy of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow on May 3rd HERE

You'll also find a tasty little blurb there. Enjoy!

First Lines by Lily Harlem

What makes a story start when it does? How does that idea spill onto the page?

The opening line of a book is vitally important and for me it’s one of the first things that comes to my head. But there is an actual way of defining these first lines (so they told me at my creative writing lectures) so here you go, a few pearls of wisdom along with examples…

Dialogue - Throwing the reader straight into a conversation between characters.

Louisa May Alcott's Little Woman "Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.

Statement - A fact or authoritarian comment.

Tolstoy's Anna Karenina "All happy families resemble one another, but each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

Setting - Description of the environment.

Arundhati Roy's God of Small Things "May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month."

In media res (latin for 'in the middle of things') - puts the reader immediately into the situation.

James Frey A Million Little Pieces "I wake to the drone of an airplane engine and the feeling of something warm dripping down my chin."

I got to thinking about my first lines...

This is the first line of Tarzan of the Apes - written by Edgar Rice Burroughs - not me :-)

I had this story from one who had no business to tell it to me, or to any other.

That Filthy Book, by myself and Natalie Dae

I stared at him, this husband of mine, his naked form rendered a silhouette from the brightness of the sun streaming through the hotel room window.

Orchestrating Manoeuvres

I flopped back on my mountain of pillows, gasping, writhing and shoving Enrique—my new thick, black Rampant Rocker vibrator—into my pussy higher and harder.

The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita

It has been an eventful weekend in my nocturnal world. 

I like lines that make the reader asks questions, and I’ve discovered that’s what I really enjoy, creating a world that drip feeds information rather than dumping it onto the page. Not a mystery as such, but throwing the reader into the moment and letting them discover what the characters are doing. I remember being told by a lecturer that the worst opening line – in his opinion – was…

She stretched languidly on the bed and sighed.

At the time I couldn’t understand why he was so offended by it, but now I do, it’s because nothing is happening. As a reader I just see a woman waking up, a bit bored, nothing unusual, no clue as to what the day ahead holds. I’m just not grabbed, already I’m thinking of my shopping list!

Thanks so much for reading, do let me know if you have a favourite first line from a book, I'd love to hear from you.

Lily x

Motivation...and April Fool's Day.

Happy April 1^st...or Happy April Fool's Day!

Don't you think it's a bit of a double whammy to have April Fool's on a Monday? Me too.

With that, I find myself lacking in the motivation department...especially when I am staring at two projects (one contemporary and another CC project), both of which are due very, very soon. So like all good writers, I found my little mouse roaming the internet 'researching' (known to everyone else as procrastination).

And found this little tidbit when browsing comments on Amazon:

"The biggest thing for you to do is get rid of your motivation. That's right. Throw motivation out the window because that idea will dry up fast. You must have a strong work ethic and drive. Believe in yourself and have fun!"

Omigosh. Was this guy talking to me?? Nope. But were the cosmos? Yep. That was a great big smack on the back of the head by greater powers. At least for me.

As a person, if I don't buckle down...nothing gets accomplished, good or bad.

As a writer, if I don't sit down and put fingers to keys...nothing gets written, good or bad.

Another favorite quote of mine - from a Chinese fortune cookie of all places - is: Begin...the rest is easy. I find that to be true. If I never start...I never have the opportunity to finish.

So, I'm off to write. Good or bad. J

Before you go...do you have a favorite quote you'd like to share?