Tag: Nicola M. Cameron

BEHIND THE IRON CROSS by Nicola Cameron

.Reading time 7 minutes.

In the hedonistic wonderland of Cabaret-era Berlin…

…where money can buy you anything you desire…

…and love comes with a pink rose and a practiced smile…

The year is 1923, the Great War is over, and Berlin has become the manic playground of Europe’s elite. Against a glittering background of nightclubs and hot jazz, a sensual American heiress, a wounded playboy, and a desperate German army officer forge a decadent pact of pleasure. But their nights of uninhibited passion soon lead to a forbidden emotional connection, one that will threaten their future … and their lives.

 

Excerpt available here.

  • Historical Romance, Erotic Romance, MMF
  • Word Count: 105,000
  • Heat Level 4
  • Published By: Belaurient Press

Where to Buy

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iTunes | Kobo | Smashwords

Excerpt:

Kat followed her men, feeling incredibly relaxed and happy. All of her worries about Schoengraff, the wedding, and her future at Tracy Electric felt like they had been trapped behind a thick, clear wall. She knew they were still there, of course, but they didn’t plague her at all.

And seeing both Friedrich and Sam’s trousers bulging from the kissing and canoodling in the hubble-bubble den was doing wonderful things to her own desire. As soon as the car started moving Sam fell on the colonel like a hungry beast, mashing their mouths together and driving his tongue between Friedrich’s lips. His hand snaked down, cupping the German’s undoubtedly aching cock and squeezing it.

It seemed only right to join in. She leaned closer to Friedrich, pressing her breast against his arm as she nibbled and sucked on his earlobe, whispering filthy things into his ear. He gave Sam a last kiss and turned to her, groaning as she undid a button on his shirt and slid her fingers inside to caress the skin there.

Sam moved back in, biting at Friedrich’s neck then soothing the sting with a lick. A fleeting thought crossed Kat’s mind, a wish to have both of her beautiful men naked and in bed with her. All three of them creating a tangle of bodies and limbs, so close that no one could tell where one ended and another began, and to hell if it shocked all of Bridgeport and its stuffy, stodgy society.

At some point the car stopped and the door opened, Horst looming in the opening. The next thing Kat knew they were up in the suite. How, she had no idea, but she was absolutely delighted by it. She led her men into her bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went.

Laughing, Friedrich fell on Sam, pushing him into the bed and kissing him greedily, opening his mouth to the American’s. “You feel so good,” he said softly, dropping soft kisses over the other man’s chin, cheeks, nose. “Why do you feel so damned good?”

“I don’t know, but I’m glad I do,” Sam murmured. “You feel even better, angel.”

“Mmm.” Friedrich writhed, rubbing against Sam’s lean body. “Too many clothes.”

“I can help with that,” Kat said. She started unbuttoning his shirt, laughing as her fingers fumbled on the tiny mother of pearl discs.

Friedrich stared up at her, naked adoration on his face. He lifted a hand, brushing her cheek with a tender finger that sent shivers down her spine. “You’re so beautiful, Kätzchen. So strong, like a goddess.”

Kätzchen—kitten. Tonight, she would accept that once-hated nickname, especially since he finished up by calling her a goddess. “Clothes, colonel. Let’s get you out of them.”

She quickly stripped him, leaving him naked and gorgeous on the fine sheets while Sam fumbled with his own clothes. Friedrich looked down at his magnificent cock, already hard and pearling a drop of pleasure at the tip, and laughed at it. Sam joined in, and Kat followed. Everything felt wonderful.

The men rolled into each other’s arms and started kissing again, hands roaming muscular bodies and caressing, squeezing, stroking as she watched. It was wickedly delicious, the sight of these two beautiful creatures pleasuring each other. She stripped slowly, reveling in the heightened sensation of her skin as it was exposed to the room’s cool air. She dropped her chemise, then her corselet to the carpet, peeling off the fine silk stockings last and draping them around her neck like a stole. They caught on the chain there. Mustn’t snag the stockings. There were things she could do with them, wonderfully dark and heady things.

She unhooked the chain and tossed it and the key onto the bedside table. Crawling onto the bed, she gently pushed Friedrich onto his back and away from Sam, slithering down into his arms. “My turn,” she purred.

His eyes were thin rings of blue around wide black centers, the eyes of a child on Christmas morning who had just seem the mountain of presents awaiting him. “So beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

She stroked his cheek, feeling the fine prickle of his beard. “So are you, my colonel. The most beautiful man, isn’t he, Sam?”

“Oh, yes,” Sam said thickly, kissing his way down Friedrich’s chest. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

She wanted to kiss Friedrich again, taste his mouth, feel his tongue dancing slickly around hers as they shared breath and heat. A faint voice in the back of her head murmured something in a warning tone, something about discipline and too much indulgence. She didn’t care. She wanted this beautiful man, and she was going to have him.

SHIFTER WOODS: SNARL by Nicola M. Cameron

.Reading time 8 minutes.

 

 

Can a lone wolf woo and win his very own kitty girl, or will he get turned into cougar chow?

Jack Hawthorne is an Alpha wolf shifter and former SEAL who lost the leadership of his pack while serving his country. Kate Chandler is a cougar shifter with no sense of smell and a deep-seated distrust of fated mates. When these two are thrown together at the Cougar Ridge Ski Resort in Esposito County, NM, Jack realizes that the sharp-witted, beautiful female is his heart’s mate. But her injury means she can’t smell the truth, and her father (and Jack’s former commanding officer) has made it clear that Kate is off limits.

Now, Jack has to convince Kate that they’re meant for each other, win her father’s approval, and get the local wolf pack to accept him. But as every SEAL knows, the only easy day was yesterday.

Excerpt available here.

Paranormal, Erotic Romance

Word Count: 30,000

Heat Level 4

Published By: Belaurient Press

 

Books in the Shifter Woods series:

Reviews

Rated Five Stars. “Ms. Cameron did a wonderful job with Shifter Woods: Snarl and I’m eagerly awaiting the next installment in the series.”
– Amazon review

Where to Buy

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords | iTunes | Kobo | Goodreads

Excerpt

Kate arched her back, pressing a lace-encased breast against his hand. “I seem to remember you saying something about SEALs only needing one hand for bra hooks. Want to prove it?”

Jack’s grin could only be called predatory. He slid a hand under her spine, the pressure of her bra band easing as he undid the hooks. “Less than five seconds,” he said smugly. “That’s a new personal best.”

“I’m impressed.”

He rested his hand on her ribcage, thumb and index finger cupping the underside of her breast. “Oh, trust me, I can do more than that.” Bending down, he took the fabric of her bra in his teeth and tugged it loose, exposing her. “Woof,” he mumbled through the material before spitting it over the side of the bed.

She chortled. “You animal.”

“Guilty as charged. God, you’re gorgeous.”

Leaning down again, he ran the tip of his tongue over one dark pink peak, delicately flicking it. It hardened, the pleasure arrowing between her legs and making her inner muscles clench. “Ooooh.”

“You liked that?”

“Oh, yeah. Do it again.”

He did, licking and suckling while his fingers teased the other nipple, rolling it before giving it a soft pinch. She melted into a happy puddle under his talented attentions, feeling his own arousal growing as the ridge in his jeans pressed against her lower thigh. Sliding her fingers into his hair, she gently scratched his scalp before slipping down further and touching his ears. She heard/felt the rumble of pleasure as she ran a fingertip over the curve of one ear. “These are so cute. I bet your team nickname was Wolfman.”

He He let a nipple pop out of his mouth, the air cooling it quickly. “No bet. They’re round, but the cartilage never folded over completely so they look pointed from some angles.”

He She repeated her caress and was rewarded with a soft hiss. “They’re also sensitive.”

He “Yeah, they are—Kate.” Her name ended on a gasp as she traced the edge of the soft cartilage. “Baby, you keep doing that and I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

He “So don’t be. Give it all to me. I want it.”

He He leaned up, capturing her mouth in another of those lush, greedy kisses. “I’ll give it to you, everything you want,” he said against her lips. “But let me enjoy this, okay? I’ve been dreaming of you since the day I saw you.”
She made a wordless noise of agreement. He returned to her breasts, giving both her nipples the slightest teasing bite before kissing his way down her stomach, her navel, until he reached the waistband of her jeans. “Permission to take these off, ma’am?”

He She stroked his hair again, enjoying the softness of it. “Granted.”

He He made quick work of the button and fly zipper, sliding the tight denim down and stripping it off her legs. She was grateful she’d worn the matching panties to the bra, a pretty bikini style with lace around the edges. He sat back on his knees, licking his lips. “Fuck. Blue lace. That’s my favorite, baby.”

He She shifted one leg, opening her thighs in unmistakable invitation. “You haven’t even seen the best bit yet.”

He Even in the room’s dim light his smile glowed. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a cocktease, Ms. Chandler?”

He “Mm, it may have been mentioned once or twice.”

He He slid his fingers under the blue satin, sending a shiver of anticipation across her hips as he slowly pulled her panties down, tossing them to the floor alongside her bra and jeans. The coolness of the air chilled the hot, damp flesh between her legs, and she sucked in a shuddering breath when he ran his fingertips over her outer lips. Bringing his hand up, he sniffed it with delight. “Oh, yeah. You smell so good.”

He In any other situation the reminder of her disability would sting, but now all she could feel was a wriggling sort of glee. “What do I smell like?”

He He inhaled her essence on his fingers again. “Like salt mixed with something tangy and sweet. I’ll be honest, it’s making my mouth water.”

He She rubbed her foot along his side. “Well, if it smells that good…”

He Growling softly, he slid down between her thighs, wedging them open with his shoulders.

TO MY MUSE by Nicola M. Cameron @YesItsNicolaC

.Reading time 10 minutes.

Ever do something really, really dumb?

When too much tequila and an enabling BFF put Lily Nayar’s romance novel Feast of Lovers into the hands of its inspiration, sexy British actor Tom Morrison, Lily is horrified. Now she’s determined to get her book back, even if that means breaking into Tom’s hotel room to do it.

With the help of a strategic lie and a charismatic knight, Lily’s screwball plan catapults her into the middle of her very own Cinderella story, Hollywood style. But will a vengeful actress ruin Lily’s shot at a real life HEA with Tom?

Excerpt available here.

  • Contemporary romance, romantic comedy, MF
  • Word Count: 67,000
  • Heat Level 2
  • Published By: Belaurient Press

Excerpt

Giving Theresa a thumbs up, I closed the door and turned my attention to the hotel room. It had already been cleaned and the bed was neatly made. A suitcase sat on the valet stand next to the TV, and the dresser and desk held various pieces of paper, notes, and a couple of plastic shopping bags, all the usual stuff when you’re stuck in a hotel room for a couple of weeks.

Of course, the fangirl part of my brain was screeching like a gibbon at me that I was in Tom Morrison’s hotel room. He’d slept in that very bed last night. Sat at that desk to check his email and Facebook. Took a dump behind the closed door of what I assumed was the bathroom. The prosaic nature of that last bit helped me regain some self-control, and I tiptoed (why, I don’t know, I’m an idiot) over to the desk. There was what looked like a script for GearShifter on it, as well as a MacBook Pro, but no Feast of Lovers. Bad Tom, no leaving your expensive computer equipment out where people can steal it.

I wanted to leaf through the script so badly, but I ignored it and kept looking for Feast. Not on the desk top, not on the dresser, not on the TV. I was starting to worry that he’d taken it with him to the location when I noticed the suitcase. I truly, honestly hated the idea of going through his personal stuff, but he might have stuck it in there. I could just lift the lid, take a peek, maybe it was in plain sight—

I had the lid in hand when the bathroom door swung open and a tall, beautiful blonde in a towel strutted out. “I thought I heard you—” she purred, before she saw me. Both face and tone iced over. “Who the hell are you?”

I let out a noise that could have been used as a sound effect for a creaking vault door. The blonde stalked closer, looming over me. Up close, I could see some fine lines around her eyes, but she was still ridiculously gorgeous. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.

Oh. Oh, shit. My brain informed me that I was currently sharing a room with Claudine Ellery, the actress playing Tom’s antagonist/love interest on the show. What the hell was she doing in his bathroom? Were they dating in real life? Why was I asking stupid questions when I should be turning and running for my freaking life?

And then Fate decided that she needed an even bigger chuckle because the room door opened and Tom Morrison walked in. I caught a glimpse of an apologetic Theresa hovering in the hallway before she was eclipsed by Tom, who was staring at Claudine and me.

Oh, God. He was even better looking in person. Not all actors are, but Tom—he was edible. Curly black hair, eyes the color of dark chocolate, and lips that I’d wanted to kiss since the first time I saw him on screen. With faded jeans that fit him perfectly, a dusty white button-down with rolled up sleeves, just the right amount of chest hair peeping out of his collar, and the cutest smudge of dust across one laser-sharp cheekbone, he was every one of my fantasies come to warm, tall life right in front of me.

And I had broken into his hotel room.

That was it. I was going to jail, assuming that the cops didn’t just see “brown person” and shoot me when they got here. At the very least I’d get fired from Golden State. Mom and Dad would disown me, Dada and Dadi would die of shame, and Derek would probably take out an ad in the LA Times saying that I was adopted. My only hope was that Theresa had gotten the hell out of here. There was no reason for both of us to go down for my stupidity—

“Lilian, darling, what are you doing here?”

My brain skidded to a halt. Words had come out of Tom Morrison’s mouth. Friendly words. While he was staring directly at me. Looking, if I may say so, as if he was talking to someone he knew. Which he didn’t, because I may not have remembered sending him my book but I would definitely remember meeting him.

“Um. Hi?” I waved weakly.

“I thought you decided not to come out this weekend.” He crossed to me, slipping an arm around my shoulders as he stared at Claudine. He squeezed my shoulder once, kind of hard, then did it again.

Even with my brain in fangirl vapor lock I can take a hint. I had no idea how he knew who I was, but he wanted me to play along. Plastering a grin on my face, I slipped my arm around his waist and squeezed back. His torso felt like warm rock, and he smelled so good.

“Well, I figured I needed a road trip,” I extemporized, giving him a bright smile. “And I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Not at all, angel,” he purred. Up close, I could see a hint of relief in his eyes. It disappeared as he turned to Claudine. “Claud, why are you in my room wearing a towel?” he asked politely.

She planted hands on slim hips, cocking her head to the side. “Seriously? You have to ask why?”

“Yes, because if I remember correctly, I told you that I had no interest in going to bed with you. In fact, I’m quite sure I informed you of this on numerous occasions. And when I walk into my hotel room and see you wearing nothing but terrycloth while my girlfriend,” this time his squeeze was gentle, “is standing there looking gobsmacked, I have to wonder what the actual fuck you’re up to.”

My face went rigid as it tried to hold onto my smile. Girlfriend? Eeeeeeeee…

Where to Buy

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords | iTunes 

About the Author

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in romance and sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to speculative romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

 

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads

LADY OF THORNS by Nicola M. Cameron @YesItsNicolaC

.Reading time 10 minutes.

Hello, and thanks so much for having me on today! Lady of Thorns is the third book in a series that was never supposed to be a series. I’ve been describing it as “Lady Mary from Downton Abbey goes head to head with Alan Shore from Boston Legal—and hijinks ensue!” While I’ve resigned Danaë and Matthias to the background for now, fear not, Mattaë fans—book four will run in parallel to the events of Lady of Thorns and covers what happens when Matthias arrives in Hellas for his first official visit after the wedding.

In the meantime I do hope you enjoy the story of Amelie and Alain, and I can promise that they’ll make another appearance down the line as I now know where I’m going with this series. All I will say about that is: buckle up, because it’s going to be a bumpy ride. Mwahahahaha…

Blurb:

Love was never supposed to be part of the deal…

Lady Amelie de Clerq’s prickly demeanor and earth mage abilities have earned her the nickname “Lady of Thorns,” keeping potential suitors at bay and making her the butt of the nobility’s jokes. Determined to attract a husband who will love her for herself rather than her fortune, she decides to embark on a journey of sensual self-discovery.

Alain LaPorte, wily lawyer and toast of the capital’s social set, has been summoned to Lierdhe to oversee business negotiations with a neighboring earl. When Amelie asks Alain to tutor her in the bedroom arts, he agrees to introduce the virgin mage to pleasure. But lessons in lovemaking soon turn into a matter of the heart, forcing both Amelie and Alain to confront their fears about intimacy, loyalty, and love.

 

  • Fantasy, Erotic Romance, MF
  • Word Count: 80,000
  • Heat Level 4
  • Published By: Belaurient Press

Books in the Two Thrones series:

Excerpt

 

LaPorte returned with two goblets of wine and handed her one, the deep garnet of the liquid lit with reflected fire from the candlelight. “I’m glad you came. I must admit, I was afraid you’d changed your mind.”

Amelie took a deep sip, hoping the cool, tart wine would help soothe her nerves. “I had to persuade my maid that I didn’t require help getting ready for bed.” As it was, she wasn’t sure that she’d convinced Jeanette with her excuse that she planning on going back down to her office. “I apologize if I kept you waiting.”

“No apologies necessary.” He showed her to a pair of chairs set on either side of the fireplace and sat down. “You look lovely.”

She plucked at the light blue wool of her gown, wishing she had worn something more alluring, or at least with a lower neckline. Her mother’s closet was full of silky, clingy dresses with daring necklines, and she would have given a great deal to rummage through them. Instead, I come to him dressed like some awkward girl.

Which I suppose I am. “Thank you. You look very handsome.”

He smiled at that. “Thank you, my lady.”

A silence fell after that. She fidgeted with the goblet, wishing she didn’t feel like such a fool. The weight of his attention was tangible, causing her stomach to flutter. “I don’t know what to say now,” she confessed.

“You don’t have to say anything. Drink your wine and let me look at you.”

Her mouth dried again at that and she took a quick sip from her goblet. “I’m sorry about the plainness of my gown. I’m afraid I don’t have anything appropriate to wear to—” A seduction. “—something like this.”

His lips quirked at that. “I asked you to leave what you had on because I liked it. Pretty gowns make for lovely gift wrapping, true, but it all comes off in the end anyway. Besides, there’s a certain appeal to a gown such as yours.”

“I don’t see what that could be,” she muttered into her goblet.

“It’s what it represents. Youth, innocence, an unknown territory ripe to be explored. I suspect it’s the reason why so many men have a fondness for deflowering virgins—they relish being the first man a woman has known intimately.”

She tried to lock the question behind her jaws, but it popped out. “Do you like that?”

“Deflowering virgins?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

She slouched lower in her chair. “Oh.”

He held up a hand. “Not to say that I have anything against it, mind you. Everyone has to start somewhere, after all. But I don’t fetishize it to the degree that other men do. I see it more as a starting point on a very pleasant journey.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way. “And you don’t think less of me for my request?”

“Not at all, my lady. You know what you want, and you wish an experienced tutor to help you achieve it. It’s all quite reasonable to me.” He settled in his chair, sipping his wine. “As I’m playing tutor to you in this area, are there any questions you wish to ask me?”

There were, actually. “Will it hurt much?”

“It shouldn’t. If I make sure you’re aroused and open first, you should be able to take me without discomfort.”

Take him. Those simple words set warmth surging through her lower belly. “So, no gushing blood or rending pain, then.”

He rolled his eyes. “That might be the case if a maid beds a huge brute of a man who’s only interested in his own pleasure. But that won’t be the case with you, I can assure you. I’m confident enough in my ability to couch a lance without causing you harm.”

Even if there would be pain, she was prepared to bear it for the promise of pleasure afterwards. She wondered how many women he’d taken to bed, but found she didn’t want to know the answer. “How do we do this? Go from sitting here to naked and in bed?”

Alain studied her, then drained his goblet. “Like this, my lady.”

Where to Buy

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Google Play | iTunes | Print

About the Author

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads

 

SHIFTER WOODS: HOWL by Nicola M. Cameron

.Reading time 10 minutes.

Laurie wants a news story. Caleb just wants to be left alone. But when the coyote shifters’ paths cross in New Mexico’s Sandia Mountains, Fate steps in and gives them something they never expected—each other.

Reporter Laurie Rivera is on the trail of a white slavery ring when she’s forced to run for her life in the foothills near Sandia Crest. Widowed sheriff and Alpha coyote shifter Caleb Lynch comes across the exhausted reporter and discovers to his shock that Laurie’s also a coyote shifter—and his new heart’s mate.

But Caleb never expected to have another chance at love, and Laurie has a good reason to fear being claimed, especially by an Alpha. As a snowstorm traps them in the sheriff’s cabin, Caleb must find a way around the barriers surrounding Laurie’s heart, and Laurie has to confront her past—and the humans who want her dead—if she wants a chance at her very own “happily ever after.”

  • Paranormal, Erotic Romance, MF
  • Word Count: 23,000
  • Heat Level 4
  • Published By: Belaurient Press

Where to Buy

Amazon

Excerpt

Upstairs, Caleb stretched out in the big, comfortable bed, remembering how Paul Sleeping Turtle, Mike Ivanov and he had used some stout ropes and a lot of good-natured cursing to haul the mattress and box spring and over the loft railing. Anna had stood well out of the way downstairs, laughing at their language as they’d sweated and lugged the damn things upward. That night, however, she’d rewarded him in the newly installed bed, and Mike cheerfully baited him the next day about hearing the noise from a good mile away.

He’d never brought another woman to the cabin after Anna’s death, never even wanted to. But Laurie was different. He could smell her even up here, her essence rising with the heat from the fireplace and perfuming the loft with the smell of warm, sweet female in heat and in need of a good fucking.

He had no idea why Laurie had suddenly gone into heat while he was doing the dishes, but the change in her scent was unmistakable. Granted, sometimes an unmated Alpha could send a young, untried female into heat from simple proximity. But Laurie Rivera had to be in her early thirties, and if she was a virgin he’d eat his badge. The view he’d caught of her in the reflection of the kitchen window was of a female openly eyeing him and liking what she saw.

He grinned at the hand-hewn beams overhead. You know damn well what it means. She’s my mate, whether she likes it or not.

Which, ironically, was the problem. From what she’d told him, she was skittish as hell about the idea of being claimed. He couldn’t blame her, considering her experiences with her first Alpha. But it certainly messed up any chance he had with her, as well. And he didn’t have the luxury of taking his time and courting her, letting her get to know him over time. The moment the plows came through in the morning, Mike and this Gavin guy would be at the cabin to pick her up. After that, Laurie would be back in the city with her career and her life, never to return.

Albuquerque isn’t that far, though.

Oh, yeah? When was the last time you were there? The last time you had time to go there?

His subconscious—or his coyote, he wasn’t sure—had a point. He had to act tonight before he lost her. So, time to be sneaky.

He kicked off the blanket, bracing as the cool air hit his bare skin. He usually didn’t sleep naked during winter, but he wanted as much of his own aroma circulating as possible. He’d made a vow, yes, and he would keep it … unless Laurie gave him permission to break it. And the best way to make happen would be to tempt her upstairs with the scent of his desire and the promise of fulfilling her own.

Running a hand over his chest, he brushed the firm nub of a nipple and the crisp hair that led in a trail down to his groin. He followed it now, wrapping a hand around his soft cock and squeezing. It twitched at the stimulation; when he squeezed again, running his thumb over the upper ridge of the head, it began to thicken lazily.

He started a light, teasing stroke, not enough to get himself off but more than enough to get fully hard. Closing his eyes, he imagined Laurie climbing the stairs to the loft and his bed. The mattress would dip a bit as she climbed on it, moving on all fours to him. He knew she was the kind of female who, when her mind was made up, would stake her claim. There would be no fear, no anger, nothing but need and the deep knowledge that they belonged together.

He pictured her straddling his thighs, bending over to give him a deep, luscious kiss. Her breasts would swing forward and he could cup them, relishing the firm weight of them in each hand before he leaned up to take a nipple in his mouth. He already knew how the salt of her sweat and the sweet spice of her skin would taste, and how to rub the velvet flat of his tongue across the nub to make her gasp. He wanted to learn all the sounds she made in bed, the feminine moans and sighs that were music to a male’s ears.

His sweet female would be eager that first time, taking him in hand and guiding his straining cock between her legs. He groaned as he imagined the hot, wet squeeze of her sliding down around him, a perfect fit that would drive him out of his mind. She’d start riding him, her breasts jiggling with each rise and fall, and that perfect friction building between cock and cunt, all hot juices and slippery softness and his dick going deeper and deeper into her until he could feel the electricity rising, building at that sweet spot between balls and spine…

He pulled his hand away, half-enjoying the sparking, stuttering feeling of having his orgasm denied. Now he just had to wait.

Please, Laurie, I need you. Come to me.

About Nicola Cameron

Nicola Cameron is a married woman of a certain age who really likes writing about science fiction, fantasy, and sex. When not writing about those things, she likes to make Stuff™. And she may be rather fond of absinthe.

While possessing a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that she decided to write about it. The skills picked up during her SF writing career transferred quite nicely to speculative romance. Her To Be Written work queue currently stands at around nineteen books, and her mojito-sodden Muse swans in from Bali every so often to add to the list, cackling to herself all the while.

Nicola plans to continue writing until she drops dead over her keyboard or makes enough money to buy a private island and hire Rory McCann as her personal trainer/masseur, whichever comes first.

Website | Blog | Facebook | Facebook Reader Group | Twitter | Goodreads

DEGREE OF RESISTANCE by Nicola M. Cameron @YesItsNicolaC

.Reading time 7 minutes.

degreeofresistancecover

Degree of Resistance

by Nicola M. Cameron

 

A perfect society hiding a terrible secret. An innocent man condemned to cyborg slavery. A brilliant woman determined to set him free.

Freelance tech Evie Contreras belongs to the Employee class of the Pacifica Protectorate, the “perfect society” that rose from the ruins of the West Coast. But Evie knows about Pacifica’s festering core and the secrets that keep it in power. And when she discovers that Pacifica has turned her fiancé Ben into a cyborg slave, she will risk everything to rescue him.

Saving Ben is the first step in a deadly game between Pacifica and a shadowy resistance group known as Rubicon. In return for Rubicon’s help, Evie must retrieve a hidden artificial intelligence that may hold the key to protecting Earth from a deadly new disaster.

Assuming the protectorate doesn’t find Evie first…

Excerpt available here.

Science Fiction, Erotic Romance, MF

Word Count: 80,000

Heat Level 4

Published By: Belaurient Press

Reviews

“Beautiful, fluid with whipsmart technology, and good to the core. Nicola M. Cameron has given us a fast-paced, heart-tugging cyber-romance that I couldn’t stop reading. A deeply satisfying book for fans of cyberpunk, science fiction, and romance alike.”
– Cecilia Tan, RT Award-winning author of Slow Surrender

Where to Buy

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords | iTunes | Print

Excerpt

 

“Let me see you, Ben.”

Without a word he loosened the knot in the towel and let it fall.

He reminded her of a da Vinci nude she’d once seen, every muscle developed without unnecessary bulk and giving the impression of restrained power. His chest was the same from her memories at the pool, beautifully shaped pads of pectoral muscle and shoulders ending in curved deltoids that she wanted to grip. The same light scattering of blond chest hair narrowed to a trail that led down over trim abs to his navel and beyond.

His legs were those of a runner, lean muscle and tendon rising in powerful mounds at the backs of his calves, along the length of his thighs. The hair covering them was sparser, only slightly darker than the hair on his chest, and curled against his indoor-pale skin.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at his groin. The hair darkened here, turning sandy brown and curling in a springy nest around a well-shaped cock, neatly circumcised. It had thickened a little, judging from the way it stood out from his body, but wasn’t anywhere near full erection yet.

He laughed softly. “You should see your face. You look like all your birthdays and Christmases came at once.”

“I think they just did.” There were no scars, no signs that any part of his body was artificial. “You’re perfect.”

He glanced down at himself. “I think you may be a little biased, but thank you.” His pupils expanded, compressing all the light blue into a thin ring around each black pool. “Besides, you’re the one who’s perfect.”

He came to her and knelt, gently urging her knees apart so that he could move closer. Her heart raced as he loosened the belt on her robe, letting it fall to each side. The terrycloth gaped open, putting her on display the same way he’d done for her.

He didn’t say anything for a minute as he drank her in. The nervousness she’d felt earlier was gone, banished by the naked worship in his eyes. “You’re everything I ever wanted.” His voice was husky. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

She fought back the sudden urge to cry from sheer relief. “Kiss me. Please.”

He did, his chest pressing against her breasts as he slid the robe down her arms, his mouth devouring hers. She surrendered to the delicious sensation, every brush and teasing press lighting up her nerve endings like wildfire. When his tongue trailed along the soft inner flesh of her lips she opened them, welcoming him in. Between her thighs an echoing heat began to build.

It was the night in the front seat of the GoCar all over again, but this time they didn’t have to stop. And it was much better than the evening in the park hotel because now he knew who she was, who he was.

His tongue danced around hers before breaking away to lick at the roof of her mouth. A shocking pulse of pure sensation ran through her body and she moaned into his mouth.

She broke away for a necessary breath and heard him chuckle. “Okay, so I like that,” she muttered, amused by his smugness.

“Good. I like making you moan, baby. Plan on doing a lot of it, to be honest.”

 

About Nicola Cameron

 

Nicola Cameron is a married woman of a certain age who really likes writing about science fiction, fantasy, and sex. When not writing about those things, she likes to make Stuff™. And she may be rather fond of absinthe.

While possessing a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that she decided to write about it. The skills picked up during her SF writing career transferred quite nicely to speculative romance. Her To Be Written work queue currently stands at around nineteen books, and her mojito-sodden Muse swans in from Bali every so often to add to the list, cackling to herself all the while.

Nicola plans to continue writing until she drops dead over her keyboard or makes enough money to buy a private island and hire Rory McCann as her personal trainer/masseur, whichever comes first.

Website | Blog | Facebook | Facebook Reader Group | Twitter | Goodreads

PALACE OF SCOUNDRELS by Nicola M. Cameron @YesItsNicolaC

.Reading time 9 minutes.

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PALACE OF SCOUNDRELS by NICOLA M. CAMERON

Hello, and thanks so much for having me on today! Palace of Scoundrels is kind of a surprise baby because the first book in the series, Empress of Storms, was supposed to be a standalone until I started getting asked when the sequel was coming out. I am not one to disappoint readers. I’m describing Palace of Scoundrels as “Game of Thrones, except with less violent death and more snark. The wine drinking is about the same, though.” And I already have an outline for Book Three and two novellas in the same universe – whee!

Fantasy Romance, Erotic Romance, MF
Word Count: 70,000
Heat Level 4
Published by Belaurient Press
ISBN: 978-1-37-031324-2

 

BLURB:

Spring has sprung in the island kingdom of Hellas, and with it come thoughts of young love and fruitful fields. But with no signs of an occupant for the royal nursery, Queen Danaë is starting to worry about her own fertility. Her concerns aren’t helped by the arrival of the legendarily conniving Dowager Queen Atilia of Illium–or the woman’s handsome grandson Prince Marcus, on the run after being accused of poisoning his older brother.

In the neighboring kingdom of Ypres, Danaë’s royal husband Matthias is dealing with dangerous family politics and a wolfish duke who has kidnapped a young noblewoman for immoral purposes. Or has he? Can Matthias ward off the threat of civil war, outwit his relatives, and deal with a charming rival in his wife’s own palace?

BUY LINKS:

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EXCERPT

Matthias pulled Danaë into his lap, squeezing her close. She felt his chest rumble in rueful laughter. “Only you could fall into the ocean, be rescued by pirates, and wind up haring off with them on a treasure hunt.”

“Oddly enough, Father said much the same thing,” she admitted. “But it turned into a wonderful adventure. I even got my favorite tiara out of it, the silver one with the large pearl.” She’d also earned the unswerving loyalty of Captain Jason Constantinedes and his crew, who now served as her personal spy network outside of Hellas. After brief consideration she decided not to mention the days she had spent as Jason’s willing lover. It was in the past, and she didn’t want Matthias harboring a grudge against Jason if the captain ever had cause to come to Hellaspont. “They brought me back home with a wealth of knowledge about piracy on the high seas. Which is why I know I don’t want to be a pirate queen.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Matthias muttered, kissing her hair. “You’re rapacious enough as it is.”

She turned so that she could nuzzle under his ear, licking the salty skin there. “I never heard you complain before.”

“I’m not complaining now, little bird, merely observing.”

She hummed, catching his earlobe between her teeth and nibbling on it. “Rapacious,” she whispered after she let it go. “I like the sound of that.” His breath caught as she traced spirals on his skin with the tip of her tongue. She could smell clean sweat, male musk, and something distinctly Matthias underneath it all. “Would you like me to show you how rapacious I can be?” she teased.

“Another night, perhaps,” She heard a promise in his voice. “Tonight, milady, I plan on doing the boarding.”

His arms tightened around her and he got up with a soft grunt, carrying her to the bed and dropping her onto the silk coverlet. She bounced with a giggle and rose up on her elbows, watching avidly as he pulled off his shirt and breeches. Regular riding and sparring matches with his guard had kept him muscled and firm, and she could spend hours running her fingers over the curves and dips of his body, particularly his broad, furred chest. The flickering light from candle and fireplace transformed the hair there into gold and amber sparks, trailing down his carved abdomen before spreading into a darker nest of curls around his rising cock. She rubbed her thighs together, feeling the delicious ache that always grew between them when he stripped like this for her.

He cupped himself, squeezing the shaft hard enough to make the sheathed head bulge. “Still want a statue of me?” he asked, with the cheerful arrogance of a man who knew he was desired.

She licked her lips. “More than ever.”

He glanced down at his swelling flesh and grinned. “You can’t scare me, you know. I’ve seen the kind of statuary you have in Hellas. I doubt anyone would bat an eyelash at it.”

“Bat an eyelash, no. Be violently jealous of me, yes.” It was her turn to tease, and she took her time unfastening the brooches that held up her gown. She slid the delicate fabric over one breast, then the other, letting it caress her hardening nipples. The sensation made her shiver. Cupping one breast, she rolled the peak between her fingers, imagining his hot, wet mouth around it. “The question is, what will your future subjects think when they see the statue of me?”

Matthias put a knee on the mattress. The movement made the furred sac between his legs swing a bit, and she reached out to cradle it, enjoying how he shivered at her touch. “The women will weep from envy, and the men will all fall in love with you,” he murmured, his voice rough and needy. “And none of them will ever have you.”

“No, they won’t,” she breathed, letting him push her onto her back. The ache between her hips grew, turning into a slow, sweet throb. “Only you, my love.

 

AUTHOR BIO

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

 

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