My guest blogger today is David Russell. David has been writing erotica since the mid-1980s. Published extensively in magazines and anthologies along with several books, poetry and prose, he also recorded and is the singer-songwriter of a vinyl album, Bricolage recorded by Billy Childish for Hangman Records 1992, CD albums Bacteria Shrapnel and The Burglars of Britain (1998)
Please tell us about the books you have published already?
David’s books can be found on Amazon HERE
Why do you write romance?
I find it both soothing and invigorating in the face of today’s stresses.
On Monday, David had Therapy Rapture published with Extasy Books.
Here’s the blurb for Therapy Rapture:
Ever had secret thoughts about a counsellor? Fitness trainer? Ever put two and two together?
Perry has a desire for the right woman to spend some time with, enjoying each other’s company, a romantic interlude that would lead to that one fabulous encounter, bringing complete ecstasy.
Rowena is a therapist who has endured a repressed childhood. She loves dressing up and
feels that the clothes have a way of caressing her body. She wants him to open up his mind to his dreams.
He begins to ache for Rowena. He finds her dark, sultry and somewhat reserved. He finds hard professional women sexy, and she happens to be just the one he believes could bring out that strong urge that he needs to release. Rowena wants him to incorporate his dreams into a healing process. She is able to help him release his inner self as the two have some romantic interludes that lead to total satisfaction. By giving into what their hearts and mind desires, they are able to find that one medium that captures their souls. After everything is over, will they be able to face the world positively?
Now an excerpt from Self’s Blossom
Here, she was on a beach, pure and simple. Now the sea breathed heavily, whispering and murmuring to her. It was returning her stare, speaking to her. It was the spirit of love, beckoning her with a pulsing, sinewy body. In all its lines,
shades, and fleeting forms, Selene saw the essence of pure beauty, all grace of form, flesh, limb and feature. It was in one, all the lovers of whom she could possibly dream, conflated into one elemental ideal. He, pure love in soul, bade her to enter his domain and make it hers. His arms moved her hands to unclasp, unbutton, and unzip . . . the blossom emerged. The sun became the eye of all that was not earth, and Selene loved fully, though the pallor of her skin left her momentarily abashed.
At first she lay in the tide’s path, the top of her head at its most extreme mark. The sand bank made a soft bed. The sea lover smoothly caressed her calves, thighs, hips, breasts, shoulders, and cheeks before retreating to pause in his mossy pinnacles. Three times this action was repeated, and then Selene stood up, wading in with arms outstretched. Her arms were linked, as she stood up to her neck in the saline flow. The balls and heels of her feet wobbled, slithering on the moss. With the next wave, she lost her balance – her breath prepared in unison with the hissing around her. She threw her head back, once again horizontal, and launched into a backstroke, sweeping and circling. She parted her legs wide with each thrust of motion, each sweep of self-propulsion pushing out to answer the cavernous currents of his passion. Seven circles gave her a delicious, warm bliss –then the sea lover, well pleased, carried her back to a near-dry bed. Aching and contented, Selene dozed a while.
One Comment
Welcome to the blog, David