IMAGINE

Curl up on a cold autumn night with Imagine and a glass of red wine and let your imagination soar.

My newest romance  is a short and peppery read, under the Exotika® imprint from Ellora's Cave.

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Charity has a highly developed  secret sex life. In her rich and varied fantasies, she’s always in charge. Always in control of the exquisite pleasures her imaginary lovers inflict on her.

Until the night a fascinating stranger walks into her dreams.  A man with ideas of his own, whose  initiative and imagination go way over the top, considering he’s just a figment of her imagination.

Or is he?

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My creative heroine uses works of art as settings for her highly imaginative adventures in fantasy, so I had a lot of fun exploring the art world, looking for just the right landscapes for her escapes from reality.

And I had even more fun selecting some of my best photographs to use in the trailer. 

Read an excerpt....

It’s going to be a good night.

I can tell right from the start, from the moment the wayward breeze kisses my nipples and teases the hair at the apex of my legs. A gentle breeze, but with the promise of things to come.

Reclining Woman. She is nearly double life size, lying back on her elbows, shoulders raised. Knees bent, legs apart. Inviting.

I’m another reclining woman, draped across the unrelenting surface of this bronze sculpture.

She is all clean surfaces and curving contours, smooth and cold as ice. I lie in the gentle valley of her stomach and thighs, a posture that holds me secure, while thrusting my hips forward, as though offering myself to any passing stranger who might wander through the gallery’s open air central courtyard after hours.

My restraints tonight are a variation on the usual harsh ropes. Silk scarves link my wrists to those of the bronze woman, with enough leeway for me to move but not to get free. More scarves hold my ankles in place. A nice, edgy deviation.

Through the open roof of the courtyard, I can see the outline of evergreens, dark against dark, and directly overhead, a sky filled with stars. A mythical voyeur could see me spread out, naked, a human sacrifice. They could watch while a stranger ravishes my helpless body, gives me pleasure beyond imagining.

There—the click of a door opening on one of the four sides of the courtyard, behind me. I choose not to look around, but lie still and wait for him.

Footsteps approach. They stop at the head of the sculpture and a half shadow falls across my eyes.

I can barely make out his face above me, his eyes hidden in the deeper shadows of his facial contours. But I can tell he’s a stranger.

A man who has no right to be here, any more than I do. Both of us trespassing.

A man who will trespass on me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands.

“Waiting for you…”

Ew. That was weak.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His lazy drawl suggests he doesn’t much care what answer I give.

“I got locked in, and the summer night is so hot. I thought I was alone.”

“You were wrong. And now you’re going to pay the price.”

Oh please… Try again.

Without a word, he steps into my line of sight. I twitch with nervous excitement, taking in his muscular build, his scruffy clothes, no, his impeccable suit—no…

Forget that. Who cares what he’s wearing, or who he is. The only thing that matters is what he will do to me.

His face remains in the shadows, his clothes indistinct. As though—ah. A burglar. A notorious international art thief.

He has his burglar tools with him, of course. Intriguing little devices for breaking into forbidden places.

For breaking into me.

I shiver with anticipation as he develops before my eyes. I don’t even have to make an effort tonight. He’s very young, thirty—no, twenty-eight, slim and lithe, his über-fit body outlined by tight-fitting leather, down to his soft-soled shoes.

Black leather gloves fitting like skin.

The thought of those gloves exploring my body…

His short dark hair spiky around his head, and his features blackened with face paint.

But that slow smile shows a hint of perfect white teeth, and a stray bit of light reflects in his eyes.

He’s looking forward to what will happen next. The considerable bulge of his erection straining at his leather pants tells me all I need to know.

I’m lying naked and helpless in the courtyard of the Laurentian Bay Art Gallery, in the middle of the night—in the middle of a security guards’ strike—alone with a highly sexually charged burglar. A man who wants nothing more than to take utter and complete advantage of me in every way imaginable.

Perfect.

Let the games begin.

copyright © 2014 Susanna Stone

 Imagine.  Available from Amazon.com, Amazon.ca, Kobo

Imagine

Coming October 15 2014 from Ellora's Cave...  my latest e-book, Imagine.
 

Charity has a highly developed  secret sex life. In her rich and varied fantasies, she’s always in charge. Always in control of the exquisite pleasures her imaginary lovers inflict on her.

Until the night a fascinating stranger walks into her dreams.  A man with ideas of his own, whose  initiative and imagination go way over the top, considering he’s just a figment of her imagination.

Or is he?

                               

An Exotika® erotica story from Ellora’s Cave

Golden Ankh Award nomination

Well, this is exciting news.

Timelost Lover has been nominated for a Golden Ankh award in the Historical category.

Even more exciting, two other Ladies of Tullamore, Rebecca Royce and Dena Garson have also been nominated, for their books Strange Days and Mystic's Touch.

You can vote for us at

https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/RCon2014

Find out more about Timelost Lover here. 

Or buy the book here

Spend the Weekend with a Hot New Romance Hero

I can't believe it.  But it's true.

USA Today listed Timelost Lover in their feature Spend the Weekend with a Hot New Romance Hero .

And then Pansy at The Jeep Diva took a liking to it, and declared Timelost Lover a "one-sitting book." Thanks a ton, Pansy.

Find out more about Timelost Lover here.  And buy the book from one of these online dealers.

And watch the trailer here. All the pictures were taken on my various vacations. See if you can tell which pics are actually Irish, and which ones are Scotland.

Lovers Parted by Time at Castle Tullamore

Timelost Lover, the seventh book in the Ellora's Cave Series, Emerald Isle Fantasies, is being released on May 14.

I am so excited about this book, because it's my most romantic so far.  Romantic and deeply erotic.

This stunning cover art from Fiona Jayde exactly expresses how Tannis is a victim of Time, falling through the decades to be with her lover, Brendan, who died a hundred years ago. 

When Tannis Romilly first sees an iconic painting by Irish nationalist artist Brendan Pearse, she’s stunned that the naked woman in the picture looks exactly like her, even down to the intricate Celtic tattoo on her breast. Seeking answers, she travels to Castle Tullamore, an ancient Irish stronghold steeped in magic, where the artist lived and worked a hundred years ago. Inexplicably, she is whisked back in time and meets him face to face.

Brendan doesn’t know what to make of this otherworldly woman who seems to have come out of nowhere to be his model. But he knows she’s exactly the woman he needs for his Irish Freedom trilogy. At the risk of endangering his master work, and against all his own rules, he knows he can never hope to capture her essence on canvas without first possessing her body in the flesh.

But their time together will be heart-breakingly brief, because Tannis knows Brendan died tragically young, and there’s nothing she can do to change history.

Drawn by the lover from the past, Tannis keeps risking her world in the 21st century to travel back into the past, to Castle Tullamore in 1910, to meet with her long-ago lover.  And to pose for a now-famous painting that will become an inspiration to the patriots who fought for Ireland's freedom, the freedom that came to pass in 1922, ten years after Brendan died.

Tannis knows there's no hope for their future together, or even a past together, but she knows she has to help him complete the painting, or there may be no future for Ireland.

Timelost Lover - the Trailer

Read an excerpt from Timelost Lover

The old detachment of modeling came back to her with ease, reminding her of the days she’d been comfortable standing naked in front of a dozen or more students, some working with a life model for the first time. She smiled at the memory of the first-year men in particular, scarcely more than boys, studiously avoiding her eyes—even more her private parts—pretending to be blasé about it all. Then actually achieving that nonchalance.

And here, now—though when was now?—she stood posing for one of Ireland’s greatest artists. Who would believe it? Well, no one, of course, because one part of her mind still held a modicum of disbelief, no matter how much her senses told her it was happening. The legendary Brendan Pearse using her for his classic work. His eye assessing everything he saw and transmitting the image to his hand to create the marks that represented her lines and highlights and shadows. He was clearly lost in that element of creation, no more aware of her as a woman than she was of—

He looked up at the very moment her eyes were resting on his face.

And everything shifted for her.

They held each other’s look for a million nanoseconds. His hand stopped for perhaps two beats of the heart, and then he resumed his work with no obvious change in pace or demeanor.

Tannis, however, had felt the swing of her own feelings from inward to outward, right to left, turned upside down. Suddenly very, very self-aware.

Aware of him as a man. Aware of her own nakedness.

No longer a model, a detached professional. Every square millimeter of her flesh felt exposed to this fully dressed man, this icon, this stranger. Alone with him in this isolated room, she felt almost shy of him.

Never in her life, either as a model or a lover, had she felt so on display, flaunting herself and her sexuality. She ached to cover her body.

She would be in a blatantly exposed position. Full frontal nudity, to use that modern term than he would never hear in his life.

How much longer could she bear it? Every second she stood here exposing herself tore at her nerve endings. Her composure was in shreds, her heart pounding in trepidation of what might happen next.

The only thin bright spot was that Brendan himself seemed oblivious to her sexually, unaware of her anguish. His lips tight, his eyes hard, he continued to pour his energy into the sketch before him.

She grabbed hold of her composure and forced herself to remain standing naked before him.

Sweet Saint Brigid. What the hell had just happened? All he’d done was catch her eye, and some unseen energy had sent a shock straight into his libido. He no longer saw his vision of Ireland’s tragedy and courage, but simply and totally a flesh and blood woman of unbelievable erotic potency.

A woman whose sheer sexuality flowed from every pore in her flesh.

He must have been blind. Blinded by the idea of her as his Celtic spirit, blinded by his artist’s vision, to the point where he had failed to see her as a person.

At what point had the primitive male kicked aside the artist?

He willed his nerves to settle down, his unruly ardor to back off. If he could just keep his mind on the project and away from imagining— Never mind.

“All right, turn around for me.” He put iron and detachment into his voice. She rearranged herself to display her back. Gripping the sketchbook as though it could protect him from her, he began to recreate the elegant curve of her back, the dip at the base of her spine—

Stop thinking, damn it. Just draw.

 

copyright Susanna Stone 2014; all rights reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing Inc.