xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Kryssie Fortune

Monday, 19 February 2018

Learning to be Little #BDSM #spanking #romance #discipline #ageplay

When childhood is denied you, sometimes you need to learn how to be little

She thought he was odd, he thought she was perfect

After a bleak childhood in foster care, Kelly's growing mistrust has her running away again and again. Homeless and penniless, with no relatives to harbor her and a penchant for escaping her caretakers, Kelly is finally handed over to one of the few parish orphanages remaining in existence until she turns eighteen, when she is released.

Possessing only a little money, few skills, and even fewer resources, Kelly's attempts at job hunting end up with her prowling the streets in desperation – until a wealthy stranger makes her a proposition she is too cold and hungry to refuse. Though it isn't until he takes her home that she realizes just what she's gotten herself into.

Publisher's Note: This book contains elements of power exchange, and dynamics of age-play as well as discipline. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase.

She didn't set out to be naughty, but sometimes she couldn't help herself

Learning to be Little Buy Link

PG13 Excerpt - More Rules

Naked and unadorned, Kelly stood with her hands down at her sides while he walked around her in a circle before his fingers tweaked one of her nipples. She gave a slight wince but didn't move.
"You have lovely breasts, Kelly. Nice and round. However, sometimes I will ask you to bind them. I'll do it for you the first few times, but binding is something I will expect you to learn how to do yourself."
Awash with sudden self-consciousness, Kelly crossed her arms over her chest, but he shook his head, so she lowered them again.
"There will also be times when I'll want to play with your breasts along with other parts of your body. I can be a little rough, so you'll need to tell me if anything I do hurts."
"My breasts are very sensitive… sir."
"Thank you for telling me. I shall do my best to be gentle with them in that case." Then he turned and gave her bottom a quick smack. "Into the bathroom with you. I'll run the tub and, while it's filling, I'm going to shave off that cute little bush you have growing there."
Kelly slumped but followed him into the pink and white tiled room, where he suggested she pick out the bubble bath she wanted. Initially amazed by the selection, she couldn't help but notice all the scents and bath items were meant for either babies or children. After she chose the strawberry scented bubbles from his Peter Pan collection, he ordered her back to the bedroom and changing station so he could shave her more easily.
Kelly hesitated, which earned her an even sharper smack that actually hurt. When she reached back to massage away the pain, he grabbed her wrist.
"No. That was a punishment swat. You are not allowed to rub yourself after you're spanked, unless I give my permission. If I catch you doing it, I will put you over my knee. I usually tie the wrists of repeat offenders behind their back, but, given your fear of restraints, I won't do that to you. However, I assure you there are countless other ways for me to punish when I think you deserve it. That spank was for hesitating. Whenever I tell you to do something, I expect you to follow through immediately. I regard any hesitation on your part as disobedience, which will earn you a swat at minimum, but more likely a spanking. Go stand by the dressing table."

Although Kathryn is relatively new to the spanking romance market, she is not new to stories where the hero spanks the heroine.  In fact, most of her novels have some sort of spanking in them.  However, even in Kathryn's novels where the hero firmly believes in using spanking as a deterrent, he has no desire to cause the heroine injury and takes no delight in hurting the woman of his heart.  In fact, sometimes he finds it extremely difficult to follow through on his threats or promises.
To date, all of her heroes are dominant, alpha males who are extremely protective of the women they love.  However, part of that protectiveness includes the need for a certain amount of control.  They do not suffer defiance or disobedience lightly. Even so, these men aren't infallible, and they do make mistakes, but love and respect will always triumph in the end.
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You can find Kathryn lurking in the following locations:

Sunday, 18 February 2018

A Book of Two Blurbs - Wickedly Used #new #release #Regency #romance #waterloo #excerpt

My latest romance, a dark Regency tale is released today, but my publisher sent me two blurbs.


Read on to find out.

The longer version tells readers so much more - and it had me fanning myself!

Extended Blurb

While he is no stranger to pleasurable company from ladies of the night, Major Richard Rothbury of the royal dragoons is not the kind of man who will stand idly by as a woman is taken against her will, and when he witnesses a disreputable cad attempting to force himself on a girl in a back alley, he does not hesitate to intervene.

But after the grateful young woman offers herself to Rothbury, he is shocked to discover that not only was she no harlot, she was a maiden and he has deflowered her. Furious at the girl’s scandalous behavior and her carelessness with her own safety, Rothbury chastises her soundly.

Though she is due to inherit one of the largest fortunes in England, the fact that she cannot touch the money until she marries or turns thirty has kept Elizabeth completely at the mercy of her cruel uncle, and for years she has been treated as if she were a servant. Her encounter with Lord Rothbury is by far the most exciting thing that has ever happened to her, but while he shows great concern for her safety, he refuses to believe that she is anything more than a serving girl.

Despite having made it clear that he doesn’t consider a match between them to be possible, when Elizabeth disobeys him Rothbury proves more than ready to strip her bare, punish her harshly, and then enjoy her beautiful body in the most shameful of ways. But can she dare to hope that he will one day make her his wife, or is she destined to spend her life being wickedly used?

Publisher’s Note: Wickedly Used: A Dark Regency Romance includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Here's the short version

I know which I prefer

Short Blurb
Elizabeth is an heiress to one of the largest fortunes in England, but she cannot touch her inheritance until she marries or turns thirty, and her cruel uncle has used that fact to his advantage and treats her as no more than a servant.

Lord Rothbury knows that he must marry into money so that his sisters can have the life he wants for them, and when he finds himself falling in love with a girl he believes to be a servant he tries to forget her. But letting go of Elizabeth proves much more difficult than he expected…

Which one works for you?


The dragoon bristled when he glowered at Dawlish. Catching both her wrists in one hand, her rescuer held her at arms’ length. The breadth of his chest fascinated her, and she could sense his inner strength. She shuddered then stilled, but her heart still beat overtime in her chest.
Dawlish was older, with a thickset body and a mouth as mean as her uncle’s. Her dragoon’s good looks and protective manner delighted her. He had stepped in and saved her, sort of, but his gaze condemned her as Dawlish’s whore. He felt more friend than foe, but he looked ready to march away when she needed him to stay.
Lifting her head, she tried to sound brave. “Please, sir, let me pass.”
When he didn’t move, she tugged one hand free of his hold and shoved at his chest. He recaptured it in an instant. “Damn it, girl. Stand still for a minute.”
His touch sent a series of lightning strikes down her spine. Her nipples pearled and poked at the thin fabric of her gown. With him, she could fulfill her wickedest dream. The one where she gave her virginity to a handsome stranger. Memories of a stolen moment of passion would sustain her until she turned thirty—she hoped.
Dawlish snarled like a mongrel ready to fight over a bone. He still fumbled to lace up his breeches. “I saw her first. Come here, girl. I’ll pay whatever price you demand once you’ve spread your thighs for me.”
Self-conscious and horrified, Elizabeth stared at the ground. After six years of her cousins’ insults, she felt like the nonentity they called her. She hated that. Back before her parents died, she’d felt pretty. Her mother had told her that her hair shone like moonlight and her eyes gleamed like the palest topaz.
Washed out, her cousins called them.
For her dragoon, she wanted to be beautiful. She took a step closer to him. “I’m not here by choice, sir. I swear it.”
He spoke softly as if soothing a spooked mare. “Easy, girl. Allow me to escort you back to the Grand Walk.”
Dawlish yanked her wrist free of the dragoon’s grip and dragged her toward him. His touch felt like a million spiders scuttling over her skin. Does the wretched man ever bathe? Solid, square, and sweaty, he leered at her through piggy eyes. “Come on, Blondie, name your price.”
Just when she thought the dragoon’s gaze couldn’t be any colder, it turned into an arctic blast. Mouth set in a straight line, he pried Dawlish’s fingers from her wrist. “She’s not willing. Leave her be.”
The vein in Dawlish’s forehead bulged. His cheeks turned mottled scarlet. He shoved at the dragoon’s chest like a schoolboy spoiling for a fight. Her rescuer curled his lip and brushed him aside.
Once Dawlish realized he couldn’t move her dragoon, he shoved Elizabeth behind him. “Rothbury? Playing the hero? After the way you screwed your family? I don’t think so. Lavinia will laugh when I tell her you’ve taken to defending whores. Back off, and mind your own business. This little pigeon’s mine.”
The look the dragoon—Rothbury—gave Dawlish would have curdled milk. The atmosphere felt thick with menace. Elizabeth felt sure there were undercurrents at play here that she didn’t understand.
Rothbury’s jaw clenched with carefully suppressed anger. “The lady’s changed her mind.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks burned. Dawlish made her feel dirty and cheap. She pulled her free of his grip and shoved at his back. When he stared at her over his shoulder, his gaze held a degrading mix of menace and desire. “She’ll be willing once we’ve agreed on the price. Besides, you can have her when I’ve finished.” 

#Regency #Waterloo

Thursday, 15 February 2018

A Chance to meet Old Friend - Best Selling Books of the 20th Century #amreading #books

Books have magic in them. I’ve read, or maybe looked at pictures in, books since I could walk.
I’m always looking for new authors, but maybe it’s time I looked back at some best sellers from the 20th Century.


The only book I recognized from the bestseller lists was from 1902, when Conan Doyle gave us The Hound of The Baskervilles

Winston Churchill – Britain's greatest leader—had books in the fiction best seller lists, but to my shame, I’d never heard of them.

 Owen Wister’s book, The Virginian was a best seller in 1901-1902. The first true cowboy book, it opened up a whole new genre.


In 1911 Frances Hodson Burnett gave us The Secret Garden

Later, this became the decade of the war poets – Siegfried Sassoon among them.

 But death replied: “I choose him.” So he went,
And there was silence in the summer night;


Zane Grey built on the genre Owen Wister had started, having a cowboy story in the bestseller lists every year of the decade. 

My personal favorite of the Decade? When We Were Very Young by AA Milne—but then I’m a sucker for Pooh Bear.


How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie was a non-fiction best seller.

The book of the decade had to be Gone With the Wind by Margret Mitchell. 

I’m happy to report that I’ve read both.


Ernest Hemmingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls, John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath were big hitters at the start of the decade.

 One non fiction best seller I picked up from my mother’s bookcase. Betty MacDonald’s The Egg and I made me laugh out loud.


Daphne Du Maurier featured in the decades early lists.

DH Lawence burst on to the scene with Lady Chatterly’s Lover.

Boris Pasternack gave us Dr. Zhivago.


Harper Lee penned To Kill a Mockingbird and Harold Robins gave us The Carpet Baggers.

Ian Fleming’s Man with the Golden Gun and You Only Live Twice both appeared in the best seller charts.

By the end of the decade, Michael Crichton had a best seller with The Andromeda Strain


The decade kicked off with Love Story by Erich Segal and John Fowler’s The French Lieutenant’s woman

Frederick Forsyth had bestsellers with The Day of the Jackal, The Odessa File  and The Eagle has Landed. 

In 1979 Sophie’s Choice by William Styron was the years second best seller.


Robert London gave us The Bourne Identity then Steven King terrified us with Pet Semetary.

Jackie Collins and Danielle Steel dominated the saga market while Lois L’Amour picked up the torch for cowboy romance.

 Thrillers were a big hit, with Tom Clancy having the bestselling book of 1989 – Clear and Present Danger

 And finally to the 1990’s

Danielle Steel had best sellers every year of this decade.

We were still wowed by Steven King. 

John Grisham burst onto the scene. His book, The Testament was the best seller of 1999

That was a whistle-stop tour. 
I hope it brought memories of great books.
It certainly did for me. 
Any I’ve missed, please add them in comments.
I’d love to know your favorite 20th Century book. 

About Kryssie Fortune

If you love sexy vampires, possessive werewolves, muscular fae, and ancient Gods, Kryssie’s your girl. Her Otherworld—a place of magic, not machines—stems from local legends and myths. Scattered Siblings is a series of stand-alone books, set there.
The Heroes of Westhorpe Ridge is a series about former military men making a new life in Westhorpe Ridge, North Carolina. Although the stories are interlinked, each can be read as a stand-alone romance.
Kryssie’s a Yorkshire lass, and she’s lucky to live within driving distance of Whitby—the home of all things paranormal and strange. A chunk of To Break a Warrior King’s Curse and To Mate a Werewolf are set there. It's also where Bram Stoker penned Dracula.
She loves mythology and visiting ancient sites although she hasn’t any Yorkshire werewolves—yet.
Kryssie’s pet hates are unhappy endings and cliffhanger endings. 

Sunday, 11 February 2018

Butterfly - Love Never Lies #Thailand #transgender #romance #HFN #Hot #excerpt

My job makes it hard to have a real relationship. I never know where my next project will be, but I can bet that it won’t be in America’s heartland. So I read a lot, and seek my own five-fingered companionship. Busy with my construction gig in the Thai northeast, I didn’t think I needed what Bangkok had to offer.

Then Lek stepped onto the stage at the Butterfly Bar and began to dance. I fell for her during the first five minutes of her set. The weekend we spent together was pure heaven. How could I know our love would drag me through hell?

Buy Links


 How could I know our love would drag me through hell?t

X-Rated Excerpt

My room was cooler than the muggy night outside, but still humid. The whisper of the air conditioning drowned out the traffic noise from the street. As soon as the door was closed and she had slipped off her shoes, Lek was kneeling in front of me working at my zipper.

I tried to make her rise. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

She frowned, looking disappointed. “You don’t want my mouth on you?”

“Of course I do, but...”

“Then let me,” she said softly. “I want to.” With the hooker, I had to pay extra for a blow job. Lek acted as though I was doing her a favor.

As soon as my fly was open, my penis popped out, full and solid as a sausage. She pursed her lips and mouthed the tip, leaving traces of lipstick on the bulb. Then she slithered her tongue down my length, circling the base with her thumb and forefinger while cupping my balls in her other palm. I groaned. It has been a long time since I known anyone's touch but my own.

“Your cock very nice, Pat,” she murmured, in between mouthfuls. She took me deep into her throat and kept me there, sucking hard, nursing my cock like a baby at its mother’s tit. I’d never felt anything like it.

Already I could feel the cum boiling up from my balls. I began to thrust, jerking my hips, banging the tip of my cock against the back of her throat. She responded by sucking harder, till I felt that her hot vacuum would literally pull the jizz out of me.

I wanted to stop. I didn't want to come so soon. I wanted to be inside her, those graceful, muscular legs wrapped around me, when I came. But she wouldn’t let me go, and finally, I didn’t want her to.

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai has been addicted to words all her life. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romancenearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genreparanormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.  Sign up for her VIP email list here:  https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

#Thailand #Bangkok #bargirl #transgender  #multicultural #romance #travel #homophobia