Thursday, February 27, 2014

New shoes, no shirt, full service- 100 flash

Brand new shoes. Check.
He walked in without his shirt. She eyed him across the restaurant. Confidence soared as her heels clicked along the floor. He spotted her, smirked, and leaned his hip along the front counter. No one seemed to notice, not even when he reached for her, picked her up by her ass, and sat her on the cool surface.
She was overheating, desire flooding her system. His erection pressed into her and she knew he'd take her right then and there and she had every intention of letting him.
Consumed by him, she didn't notice his fangs...


 Best damn group of perverts you'll ever read. Every Friday we write flashers of 100 words precisely inspired by a given picture. The idea then is to comment on and support each others work. Keep flashing!

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

These 3 words: Guess to win

Readers- I have started a game called 'These 3 words' for authors. It's easy, any author who guest posts is subject to me picking 3 odd words they are required to use in their guest post.

Click HERE if you want to guest post.

  Iyana Jenna's 3 words: Guess to win
Hi Decadent! Hi all! I’m so glad to visit you for the second time. I hope you’re glad to see me again. ;) Today I will share with you my recent release with Torquere Press, What Lies Beneath.  And don’t forget to watch the “These 3 Words” given by Decadent!

Self-Promotion is Hell—Really?

The other day I read a blog post written by a relatively popular writer who basically said that it was hell to do self-promotion. How when authors publish a book, the next thing to do is writing numerous blog posts, sharing the book on the social media sites, etc. It’s a never-ending process and some might think they are lost in a maze of the promotion process.

Well, a writer nowadays can’t expect to just sit and relax and see the sales soar, whether they are famous or not famous yet, whether they write thrilling action novels or erotic romance books with all those purple proses. I see myself how my favorite authors, such as Paulo Coelho, Ted Dekker, and Carla Neggers, do the same. They have blogs and release newsletters they send regularly to their readers. I can’t imagine someone who is nobody in the publishing world (like me!) does nothing to promote their books. In fact, I’m so happy that one of my publishers told me how they appreciate my efforts in promoting my work and in return they promote my books more.

I don’t think self-promotion is hell though sometimes I feel it’s tough and I just don’t have the time to do anything else. But when I feel down, I just think myself as those actors and actresses who do world tours to promote their movies. Schizophrenic much? I hope not. ;) Well, if they get a bouquet of lilacs and roses after the screening of their movies, the least I can hope is that someone would recognize my name when they read it somewhere.


Guess 1 (one) mystery word and make a sentence with it. ;) Win a copy of my e-books. Please comment below with your guesses and email address. :D


On Dylan's birthday, his friends give him a chocolatey surprise -- a night at a private gay club, starring Jarrett, the most beautiful stripper he's ever seen. The pair have an obvious connection, but Dylan's hiding a big secret.

Jarrett has a rule: Never fall for a client. But Dylan is cute, and sweet, and Jarrett is only human, okay? But when the past comes back to haunt Dylan, will Dylan push him away, or will he help Dylan conquer his fears once and for all?


"You," Jarrett hisses.

Dylan looks at him, feeling helpless at Jarrett's enraged voice mixed with fear. Dylan bends down to pick up a shirt and jeans from the floor and hands them over. Jarrett snatches them from Dylan's hand.

"Yes, it's me. Dylan."

"Dylan Scott." Jarrett gets dressed, but his eyes never leave Dylan. "What are you? I didn't see you come in."

Dylan pauses. "I-I saw you from the window."

"From the window -- you were watching me?"

"Not really. I..." He's not lying. He was totally going to leave until he heard Jarrett's cry for help.

Jarrett doesn't seem to be listening, eyes turning big with suspicion.

"The window was locked... There's no broken glass..." Suddenly, Jarrett dashes toward the door, but Dylan is faster, of course.

He grabs Jarrett gently. "Relax," he murmurs in Jarrett's ear.

"Please don't hurt me," Jarrett pleads, his body trembling.

Dylan releases him at once. "I won't. All I want is to protect you."

Jarrett gazes up at him. "Why? I'm a complete stranger."

"I had you in my hand," Dylan said, and Jarrett's face turns crimson and turns away.

"It doesn't mean anything."

"Doesn't it?" Dylan asks, and he frowns when Jarrett gathers a watch and set of keys from the nightstand.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," Jarrett says simply.

"Huh? I thought this was your apartment."

"Like I want to let a scumbag like him into my place?" Jarrett sneers, nodding at Jeff who's still lying on the floor unconscious. "What are you going to do to him? You going to kill him?"

"I don't go around killing people, if that's what you're asking."

"Then what? What do you do? How did you find me?" Jarrett squints up at him. "Are you one of those superheroes? But you're not wearing a cape or a mask." Jarrett giggles. "Listen to me. I must sound nuts."

Dylan smiles a little. "No, you don't. I'll tell you all about me later. Right now, let me make sure you get home safely."

Jarrett steps back. "Uh no, thank you. I'll drive. I don't want to fly or anything."


About the Author:

Iyana lives in Jakarta, a city famous for its traffic jams, a lot of cars and motorcycles, and people selling stuff on the roads. You can spend two hours on the road going to a place you can reach in half an hour in a normal situation. Thanks to the traffic jams, though, Iyana can come up with a lot of stories, mostly shorties, as she prefers to spend the time during her trips writing into her cell phone rather than sleeping.

Another thing Iyana loves is kitties. Right now she has five of them. Their names are Larva, Nyil, Cil, Mermood, and Horus. When she doesn’t write, she plays with them, or they would play with her when she writes.

Author’s Links:

Saturday, February 22, 2014

Explicit 8 sentences

Erotic 8 sentences- you have been warned.

She screamed out in pleasure, the only thing she could comprehend was his body inside hers. He pulled back from her slightly, freeing her left nipple.
"Cayenne, I'm going to make you come again and this time, it better be my name coming from your mouth."
He moved both his cock and finger backward, out of her, kissed his way to her other nipple, gave it a tender lick with the tip of his tongue, then sucked on it. She moaned trying to move against him as he sat so still except his ministrations on her breast. Without any notice he plunged inside her again filling both her holes and bit her nipple at the same time. Her heart slammed into her chest as she quit breathing long enough for another orgasm to rage through her body. He grunted moving faster and she opened her mouth screaming, "Hawthorn!" as he spilled his seed again inside her.

~These are the last words I wrote to the novella I'm working on- A Hint of Cayenne.
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Thursday, February 20, 2014

His Sins- Friday flash 100 words

Long tendrils of hair slid down her back. The earth had already come to claim her. 

His muse. 

She'd inspired him to be the better man. To never give up. Even as her body disintegrated in his hands, he believed he would find a way to bring her back. She was not dead, just punished for his crimes against nature, his sins, not hers. While he wanted to rage out against the earth, he knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He placed a loving kiss along her forehead. Her eyes closed and the wind whisked her away.


Best damn group of perverts you'll ever read. Every Friday we write flashers of 100 words precisely inspired by a given picture. The idea then is to comment on and support each others work. Keep flashing!

Read more flashers HERE

A Taste of Thursday

Hawthorn stood. Dark hooded eyes, broad shoulders back filling up the space and every bit the male she had seen not more than hours ago. A jar of honey was in his hand.
"What are could––"
"I find you?" His voice rolled out calm, and deep slipping over her and moistening her panties.
"Yes. Find me." She swallowed. She looked at the jar of honey and back to him. His gaze bore into hers and she averted her eyes opening the door. "Come in."
He walked through the threshold, his boots thumping softly on the floor. "I have a knack for finding the things I'm after." He grinned.
Cocky bastard. She shut the door and crossed her arms. "And what are you doing here?" Inside butterflies tossed in her stomach. She wanted him to say he'd come for her but at the same time was terrified to hear him say it. Her mind jumping from one side to the other. Her hands fisted the sides of her shirt where he couldn't see.
"I told you I'd find you." He took one long stride toward her. "We left things a little..." He took another step and she backed up until she hit the wall. "Steamy." His voice dropped so low she barely heard the last word. Her heart hammered at her ribcage.
"What..ah." She cleared her throat. "What do you want?"
Thorn put his free hand on the wall beside her and she almost melted into him. How had he gotten so elfing good at teasing her?
"I want you of course." His lips barely above hers. She could feel the heat blazing off them and her body arched to kiss him.
Thorn backed away.
Cayenne shook her head, trying to filter out the effect he had on her. Damnit why'd she want him?
"I assume your sister has turned in for the night?" He circled the large area, eyes darting over the sparse space.
"Yes." She moved away from the wall hoping he wouldn't make her want to retreat back into it and still a little worried she wanted him to.
"And which one is yours?"
Cayenne pointed to the door to the left. Her hand shook as she pushed it back underneath her arm to keep him from noticing. Partially disgusted with herself she wondered why she reacted this way. It wasn't like she hadn't slept with him before. But somehow this felt different. He knew what he was getting into, she thought she knew what she was getting into, and the air around them seemed to crackle with attraction or maybe it was lust.
Thorn didn't wait for her permission. He closed the distance swiftly between them, grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the bedroom. The door opened to darkness and when he walked in, it engulfed his large form. She followed and with every step she not only knew what was coming, but her body slicked in want of him. Flashes of their last sexual encounter after the bar entered her head and she groaned inward. She hoped she'd forgive herself in the morning.
~From my current WIP A Hint of Cayenne
I wrote this two nights ago and would like some honest feedback on this short scene.

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