Mary’s Menage Reviews

There are some things happening over at Mary’s place that you need to be aware of, my friends. She was looking for some help in sharing and I offered up my place. There’s an author tour in February and there’s voting going on for the 2015 Erotic Menage Romance contest! So, come on and click… (more…)

Eliza Gayle – Obsession of Jayde

Obsession of Jayde
Genre: Paranormal Menage
Length: Novella
Available Now:
Author Website:


When Jayde returns to Hickory Falls to settle her grandmother’s estate she finds a mystery and a destiny she’s not sure she wants. It starts with an antique puzzle box with a necklace and a note that only says Beware of the Obsession. It also includes a bakery everyone is anxious to see reopened despite her inability to cook, and a pair of hunky, too-good-to-be-true tenants living in the same building.

Marc and Anthony are lovers waiting on their third to complete them, the Guardian they have sworn to protect. When Jayde finally arrives they are anxious to get her into their bed…until they see the necklace around her neck. It serves a powerful warning to them — and to her if she knows what it means. Now they have to take things slow, seducing her before they reveal the duty she has been called for.

When the Guardian denies her calling, the protectors will do anything in their power to convince her, but in the end it has to be her choice. Free will is a bitch, but so is their obsession with Jayde.

Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable. Anal play/intercourse, male/male sexual practices, menage (m/m/f).


“Can you feel it? I’ll soon be free. My time is coming, and all hope will be lost.”

Marc jerked awake, his body coiled tight and covered in sweat. His gaze swept left and right as he crept from the bed, searching for the source of distress.


A sudden gust of mist and wind tore through the room, shattering the calm. Glass and ceramics crashed to the ground in a flurry of noise and dangerous debris.

“What the hell?” Aidan jumped from the bed, muscles taut in defense, searching for the source of the disturbance.

“Relax. It’ll be over in a second.” The thick and suffocating air pushed desperately at Marc’s skin as he fought to stay upright. A quick glance at Aidan showed a healthy dose of anger mixed with fear on his lover’s face. “Do. Not. Fear. This,” he yelled over the swirling vortex. “Fight it!”

He pushed against the dark power filling the room. It pushed back. Son of a bitch. His muscles strained, and the blood pounded in his head as the unseen evil slammed them into the wall, pinning them in place. Sweat poured from Marc’s body as he fought to continue breathing and expel the demonic spirit. He should have seen this coming.

With every physical and mental aspect of his being strained to the breaking point, he pushed and struggled harder. Invisible fingers wrapped around his throat, cutting him off from the life-giving force he needed to stay alive. Despite Aidan’s and his considerable combined strength, the darkness wrapped them from head to toe in a shadowy shroud. He dared not break his concentration to check on Aidan and, instead, racked his oxygen-deprived brain for another solution.

Frigid air moved in, and the temperature of the room fell by at least fifty degrees. But that cold touch made him remember what it was he sought. A faint heat source in the room now beckoned him like a lifeline. His arms dived through the swirling blanket of obsession, greed, and jealousy surrounding them as he groped for the crystal amulet he knew had to be mere inches from his grasp.

His body twitched and flailed against his movements, and a sliver of fear tried to break through his resolve. A century ago when he’d faced these very fears, his inexperience had gotten the best of him. Not this fucking time.

His right hand wrapped around the heated crystal, which warmed his hand with its magic. Shards of light and color burst through his skin, heating him from the inside out. Hope and joy fragmented the rage, forcing the hateful and unbalanced emotions from the room in a fiery display of dominance. His body collapsed onto the floor in a heap of exhaustion and sweat alongside Aidan.

Marc blew out a hard breath and looked at the damaged room. The balance of power was shifting more quickly than he’d expected, and they’d just been warned.

“What was that?”

“That, my good man, was the welcome wagon.” Marc stood on shaky legs and placed the crystal amulet around his neck for safekeeping. “It appears our Guardian has arrived.”

* * * * *

Jayde rushed down the sidewalk, sweat trickling down her back as she hurried toward the glass doors of the bank. She gripped her bag tighter, willing her hands to quit shaking. What could possibly be in that damn safety-deposit box to warrant the increased fear racing through her the closer she got to it? It had to be the heat, the hot, sticky air she dragged in and out of her lungs. Much longer, and she would certainly melt.

She’d grown accustomed to the mild climate of San Francisco and had forgotten that during the summer in South Carolina, you never knew what to expect. Rain one day, heat the next, but always the miserable humidity. Instead of the jacket and skirt she wore, she longed for a thin sundress and sandals. Not to mention a tall, cold drink. The kind with an umbrella and some fruit on the side. Something with enough liquor in it to make her forget why she was here.

Her stomach knotted in grief at the memory of the polite phone call she’d received a few days ago. She’d woken to the shrill ring of her cell phone at an ungodly hour of the morning and had been ready to curse the person calling. Those words were forgotten when the caller informed her that her beloved grandmother had died the night before, and that she was needed in Hickory Falls as soon as possible.

It had been several years, more than five in fact, since she’d come here to visit, and she had no idea what would await her on Main Street. Jayde always had an excuse whenever her gran would ask her to come. Looking back now, every one of them sounded even lamer than the one before. Pangs of regret sliced through her as she considered all the time she had wasted. And for what? A dead-end job with an ex-fiancé as a boss?

The only information she had managed to pry out of the attorney was that renovations had recently been completed, and there were currently a pair of tenants living in the guest apartment on the third floor, next to her grandmother’s residence, which she guessed was now hers. She’d looked over the photographs the attorney had given her, and she had to admit she was quite impressed with her grandmother’s vision; the place looked fantastic and not at all like the run-down house she remembered. But nobody had been able or willing to give her a straight answer about the financial status or future plans for the historic home. She would have to dig through her grandmother’s things and find all her financial records herself.

Her gaze swept across each business lining the sidewalk until she spied the familiar stone arch of the old town bank. Anxious to get inside, she pushed through the revolving door, and a blast of cool air brushed her face. Goose bumps prickled across her heated skin, and she wondered if she could just stand there awhile to recover. On a slow sigh of regret, she moved on and searched out the information desk to find a petite, dark-haired woman eyeing her curiously with a smile on her face. She headed in that direction.

“How can I help you today, ma’am?” The thick Southern accent rolled from her tongue.

“I need to access my safe-deposit box.” Jayde showed the woman the gold key she’d been gripping in her hand.

“No problem. Bob can take care of that for you.” She waved to a tall balding man across the room. Jayde watched him approach, wondering if his strictly starched appearance and pasty skin hid a darker soul underneath. Where the hell did that come from? This isn’t San Francisco.

After he verified her ID and declared her the official owner of her grandmother’s box, Bob led her through a series of lifeless corridors in the back of the building. Funny, the farther she followed him, the more her anxiety ratcheted up. Perspiration broke out on her forehead, even with the chilly temperature, and her hands shook harder than before. Silly, really. What could her grandmother have left her that would give her any reason to be nervous? Or for that matter, what could she have left that would require the security of a safe-deposit box?

That was the real question that had burned through Jayde since she’d been told about it. She’d never thought of her gran as the secretive type, but there was no telling what she’d been up to before she died.

“Your box is right in here, ma’am. I’ll just leave you alone, if there is nothing else you need.” While he spoke, his eyes darted down to her breasts, which didn’t relieve the nerves.

What a perv! She turned away from him in disgust and surveyed the room, a tiny, smaller-than-her-walk-in-closet area that was lined with lockboxes. “This is fine. Thank you.”

She gritted her teeth and stepped inside. A stronger sense of foreboding surrounded her like a thick and powerful cloak. Her skin prickled, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to turn and run.

What the hell?

She searched through the numbers until she located the right slot. Maybe she should leave. Her grandmother’s will had left her with a cryptic message about her life being about to change forever. It had said there would be no turning back, all fate was hers. At the time, she’d assumed they were the wild ramblings of an aging mind.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

Slowly she released the breath she’d been holding, one fraction at a time, searching for an internal calm that seemed to elude her. With trembling hands, she pulled the container from the shelf marked with her number and carried it to the table.

She slid the key into the lockbox and turned it.

Jayde lifted the lid to find another box, an old, ornate wooden one to be exact. How old, she had no idea, but from the brown, aged wood and odd markings, she could only guess it was really old — as in centuries old. Her fingers brushed the edges, and her skin tingled from her arms to the back of her neck. When she lifted it from the safe, her throat tightened, making her breathing seem labored. As she eyed the box, she couldn’t help but think how silly she was behaving. It’s just a box.

Her fingers slid along the seam, trying to find the spot that would open it. Finally it dawned on her that the series of levers created a pattern, and she would have to follow it to get inside. One by one she moved the pieces of the puzzle until only one remained.

She held her breath, pressed the last lock, and flipped open the box. Sucking in a deep breath, she stared down at the intriguing antique gold necklace nestled in the corner. The filigreed gold of the chain had aged to a shimmery bronze color, and the intricate beading work around the edges of the rough-cut links gave it a delicate yet sturdy look.

In the center of the delicate arcs of the pendant sat a pearlescent oval moonstone, sparkling in the artificial light of the room. The stone was large and flat, so that when she ran her thumb across it, she found it to be smooth as glass. But where she expected a cool, solid surface, she found heat and life. Jayde pulled it from the box and held it up in front of her. The stone seemed to change color as it moved in the light. She guessed the necklace to be the perfect length to nestle between the breasts, atop the beating heart of its owner.

The weight and texture of it seemed perfect, not too heavy nor too light. She wanted nothing more than to put it on and wear it. Feel it against her skin. Why had her grandmother hidden it away in a bank? More importantly, why had she never seen her grandmother wear it? It was far too beautiful a piece to never be appreciated and kept hidden. Unable to resist, she unhooked the clasp and slid the chain under her hair.

With the necklace fastened, she let the chain fall, and the dangling moonstone did exactly as she’d thought. It slid between her breasts to nestle in the cleavage there. The contrast of the cool temperature of the chain and the heat of the stone felt delicious against her flushed skin. A sudden crackle of energy swept the length of her body, causing her to shiver. Heat continued to build inside her, until her sex tingled with arousal and surprising need.

Jayde’s fingers followed the sensation as she skimmed her hands up the seam of her skirt, stopping at her hips. She looked around the room, hoping to find something she could use as a mirror; she wanted to see how it looked. No luck. She would have to wait until she got to the house before she could admire the beautiful necklace around her neck. Not to mention figure out why her pussy throbbed between her legs.

Unable to resist, Jayde slid her hand down and cupped herself, applying pressure to her clit. Common sense told her to stop. Yet her hand rubbed harder as carnal, wicked thoughts filled her head. Maybe she could just go with it for a few minutes.

“Is there anything you need in there?”

Her hand jerked at the bank manager’s voice outside the door. Heat flooded her face as she smoothed her skirt and fought back a desire she didn’t understand.

“No…no, I have what I need.” Not really, but this was not the time and place to figure that out.

Opting to keep the necklace on, she picked up the box and tucked it under her arm. No need to keep this locked up here, not when she fully intended to wear the beautiful stone.

A piece of paper fluttered to the ground as she lifted the wooden box. Unfolding the worn and wrinkled paper, she found one sentence scrawled inside.

Beware the obsession.

The Marvelous Michelle Polaris

I don’t know Michelle all that well, yet, but I have a feeling we’re all gonna get to know her a lot through her books. What I do know so far is she’s a bit of a mystery, very sweet, has interesting taste in erotic jewelry and writes HOT! The title is Bound Odyessy after all! grins…

Genre: BDSM Menage (Fem Dom)
Length: Super Plus Novel
Available from Ellora’s Cave:
Author Website:


The year is 2067 and Earth is self-destructing from environmental cataclysms. A portal to a new world is ripped open and refuge there is Earth’s only hope. Enter Jace, cowboy diplomat, who is preparing for the negotiation of a lifetime. A sexually conflicted alpha male, he hates everything with a cock, especially himself. The last thing Jace expects is to fall in love with both a woman and a man.
His dark history presents the ultimate challenge to Mira and Roman, the sexual Dominant team hired to prepare Jace for the female-dominant culture of the new world. Tragedy has made Mira distrust her Mistress abilities. Survival is her priority, and she resists her deep attraction to Jace’s haunted eyes and sculpted body.
Roman, however, falls hard and fast for Mira and Jace, ready to honor Mira as his Mistress and force Jace to recognize him as Master. Bound in one another’s chains and pushed to the limits of arousal and pain, they must outrun sabotage and conspiracy to find salvation for their bodies, souls and hearts.

October 4, 2067 New Denver Post web service. President Corrigan reflected on the seventeen-year anniversary of the cataclysmic gravity well explosions that changed our world during today’s ceremony, opening temporary housing units. The units are designed to address crowding in New Denver. In a solemn voice, he reiterated that this was a time when we must come together to face the greatest adversity and triumph over it.
* * * * *
Mira leaned into the precious man, the restraints attaching him to the St. Andrew’s cross squeezing his toned muscle and pale skin. Allowing little movement. She visually checked the buckles holding his body, making sure none damaged him as he struggled. His breath came in heaving gulps. Sweat and tears ran down his face, neck and chest in streams to glisten in the ginger hair nesting his genitals. The musk of the male animal, pushed to the point of exhaustion, smelled pungent in the room.
Mira pressed the stem of her crop into the red stripes covering his ass, eliciting another gasp. Her nipples tightened, the pulse of her pussy and the contractions popping inside her a constant reminder of how aroused the work left her. But today was about Eric, not her satisfaction. She was angry with him, true. But he’d wanted this from her. And she was worried about his recent behavior. As she released the buckle of his cock harness, she feathered a light breath against his ear, pressed her mouth flush to his lobe. Even over his groan of agony, she knew he heard her. “Come for me, Eric. Now!”
His body jerked, spasming under her grip on his cock. As he released, a long spewing of ejaculate made longer by the denial she’d forced on him, he cried out. “Mistress,” the plea and prayer as much a sweet song to her as the symphony of his contorted features lost in that high of sub space, that transcendent bliss that blew away all of the barriers of his soul. His eyes fluttered back in his head as his limbs lost all coordination in the little movement the bindings allowed. Finally, as his cock twitched with the final drops of semen, now dripping off his belly, he slumped into the straps securing him to the cross.
Mira kissed the wet bend of skin behind his neck, smiled up at him as she stroked his cheek. “Good boy, Eric. I’ll release you and that fine body of yours will rest.”
She undid the restraints, assisting him off the device as he leaned against her. Her strength allowed her to support his weight although he stood inches taller and weighed more. Mira gently wiped his body with a cloth dipped into the basin beside her four-poster bed. She feathered another kiss on his cheek and tucked him beneath her patchwork quilt. She’d sat for hours sewing together those squares, one designed by every client she’d allowed into her life since moving to New Denver. A labor of love. Now Eric strained to sit up from under it, grabbed her hand as she adjusted the covers.
“Mistress, forgive me?”
“You are forgiven, dear one. But if you ever go outside without your breather again, I’ll cane that ass of yours so hard and fuck it with a dildo so large you won’t be sitting for weeks. The hours I worked you today will seem like nothing.”
He smiled up at her in relief and she faked her own smile in return. Damn it, but why’d he taken such a stupid risk? She suspected she knew. A call for her attention after months of distancing herself from him and every other sub client she saw at The Marked Tree. He knew she’d be forced to punish him. He’d approached her today, craving it. Not once used his safe word to stay her hand. She hated the part of her that drew away from her subs. The last thing Mira wanted to do was hurt any of those under her care. They trusted her, and she betrayed their trust each and every day her bruised heart kept her from giving them her all. And time only made it worse.
At a tap on her door, Mira left Eric drifting off to sleep in her bed and she escaped into the hallway, grabbing her black silk robe and tying the sash around her waist to cover her corset. The light cream leather molded against her body, well broken in from years of wear.
Joanne faced her in the hall, creases marring her usually placid expression. “Moore is here,” she said.
“He’s early. Tell him to wait.” Irritation tightened Mira’s nerves.
Joanne had pleaded with her to talk to this man, one Randolph Moore, some stick-up-his-derriere government official from Joanne’s description. Ten years of working in this private D/s house, and not once was anyone allowed to meet here for business. That is, other than the business of gratifying the soul’s need for honest sexual expression. But this guy held enough clout to have Joanne shaking in her sleek, thigh-hugging boots. Seeing fear in her boss-cum-friend’s usually hard-edged eyes pissed Mira off. She protected her friends, no matter what.
“You said you’d do this,” Joanne answered with a spark of annoyance. Did she think Mira was backing out? “This house stood by you for years. We’ve made it through a lot. You owe me.”
Mira did owe Joanne. Guilt weighed down her shoulders like lead. Mira had backed out of her promise to take over The Marked Tree with little explanation.
“Fine. Give me ten minutes to change my clothes and get Eric settled in a free room. I wrung him dry and he needs recovery time.”
Joanne’s trademark grin was back. It relaxed Mira’s shoulders to see it. “Thank you. I’ll show him up after ten.”
Now Mira only had to keep her mouth shut and listen to this Moore before biting his head off whole.
* * * * *

Ummm…I think I might just have to read some more…

The Sensational Samantha Kane

And she is Sensational! She’s insightful, supportive, the life of the party (or so I’m told), and has excellent taste in espresso machines! She’s been a good friend and has always been ready with thoughts, advice, and helping me to get the word out about myself and my books. 
Sam has an amazing…AMAZING series at Ellora’s Cave called Brothers In Arms! Menage. Historical. Delicious! If you haven’t checked out this series before, you need to get started on it! You’ll love it, I promise!

Genre: GLBT Menage
Length: Novel
Available from Ellora’s Cave:
Author Website:


Brothers in Arms, Book Six

Gregory Anderson has reluctantly returned to England in 1817 after more than seven years sailing the world. Half Polynesian, Gregory is caught between two worlds. He isn’t looking for love. He’s only looking for a warm body with a modicum of wit and reasonable intelligence to help him get through the few short months he’ll be in England.

Nat and Alecia Digby’s marriage, arranged when they were young and foolish, was almost ruined before it began when they both took lovers. They don’t want to give up the erotic games they learned to play and enjoy, but they won’t risk their marriage again by falling in love with someone else.

When the three meet, they think it will be nothing more than a night or two of shared pleasure and erotic thrills. But the unthinkable happens, because love refuses to be forced into exile.


Nat stood frozen. Palu had elaborate drawings covering his upper right arm and shoulder. It was a complicated design of black swirls and patterns of dots and lines with a heavy black band perhaps two inches thick drawn around his biceps. As he watched Palu flexed his arm and the muscle bulged, tightening the band and giving the illusion that the swirls moved along his arm. The upper portion of the design ran over his shoulder onto his chest. Suddenly Nat knew what it was.

“I’ve read about this,” he said in wonder, reaching out to Palu’s arm. He hesitated and Palu moved his arm, indicating that Nat could touch it. When he did he expected to be able to feel the design, but he couldn’t. The skin was as smooth and hot as the rest of Palu. “It’s tatau.”

“Yes,” Palu said, and Nat sensed rather than heard his wariness. “It is /tatatau/ in my mother’s world, /moko/ to others.”

Alecia was running her hands over Palu’s arm, her delight evident. “It’s beautiful, Palu,” she exclaimed. “Is it a drawing?”

“Yes and no,” Palu said, relaxing under Alecia’s hands. “It is native ink made in the islands just for this purpose. They cut the skin with a small comb or chisel and rub the ink into it to make a permanent mark.”

Alecia gasped. “But that must have been incredibly painful! It is beautiful, but it sounds so dangerous, Palu.”

Palu laughed and Nat felt a catch in his stomach that he decided to ignore. He was allowed to like Palu, to find him irresistible. It didn’t mean he was going to fall in love. Even if the tataus were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“They were incredibly painful, pretty Alecia. But they are important in the Pacific, among my mother’s people in The Friendly Islands. They prove that you are a man, that you can take the pain. If I had not gotten them, I would have been considered a coward.”

Nat couldn’t resist any longer. He leaned down and licked a path along one of the complicated swirls of the tatau.

“You like them?” Palu asked in a husky voice. It was Nat’s turn to laugh. “Like them? I plan to lick every inch of them.”

Palu grinned down at him. “Good. Because there are more.”

Alecia was shocked. She admitted it. She had never seen anything like it. Palu had the tatau on his arse. They’d stripped his pants off in record time when he told them he had more of the beautiful designs. But they hadn’t expected this.

“It looks like you’re wearing short pants,” she said in wonder. The tatau on his behind actually covered him all over from his waist to above his knees. The design was similar to the one on his arm, although it was heavier here, covering nearly every inch of skin.

“This is the traditional male tatatau in parts of the South Seas,” Palu explained. “I was afraid at first, and so got the one on my arm. But after surviving that, I decided to get this. I wasn’t accepted until I did.”

Alecia fell to her knees behind him to get a better look, and Nat joined her. Together they ran their hands over the beautiful black ink designs. Giant black swirls covered the cheeks of his buttocks and then ran up to his lower back and down onto his legs. Without any hesitation Alecia shoved at a leg, forcing Palu to widen his stance.

“They’re on the inside, too,” she gasped. She grasped his thigh in both hands, and then ran one up onto his firm, muscular bottom.

“That feels good,” Palu moaned.

Alecia looked over to see Nat licking a path across Palu’s other cheek, following a swirl. The sight was so arousing Alecia actually felt the moisture rush from her sex.

“Nat,” she whispered, mesmerized. Nat opened his eyes to look at her and then softly bit Palu’s cheek.

“Damn, yes,” Palu groaned.

Nat grinned and licked the place he had bitten, making Palu moan again.

“He’s rather noisy, isn’t he?” Nat asked Alecia, and there was something in his voice she’d rarely heard before when they were with someone else, something hot and intimate that they only shared with one another. Yet Alecia couldn’t mind it. She wanted to share that with Palu, too.

Alecia moved to Palu’s front, still on her knees. The tatau was on his stomach and hips and legs, and Alecia moaned when she saw that it covered his cock as well. And it was a fat, beautiful, full cock. His brown skin and the tatau made it appear purple with arousal, and Alecia could see a heavy vein pulsing along the underside. The head was as thick as the staff, weeping with desire, and suddenly all Alecia wanted to do in this life was take that cock in her mouth and taste it.

“His cock has it, too,” she told Nat in a trembling voice.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Nat groaned, and he crawled around to kneel next to Alecia. “Now that had to hurt,” Nat commented breathlessly.

Palu chuckled and he sounded as breathless as she and Nat. “Yes.” He reached down and gently tugged at Alecia’s hair, forcing her to look up at him. His dark eyes shone brightly, his cheeks were flushed, and he had a dimple in his cheek as he smiled sweetly at her. A dimple. Oh God, she was lost. “I want you to kiss it, pretty Alecia,” he whispered roughly. He closed his fist slowly in her hair and pulled her forward and up. With a glad cry, Alecia let him.

“Yes, Palu,” she agreed, trembling with anticipation. “Yes, I want to do that, too.”

The woman just writes HOT! 

Samantha wanted me to mention to all of you that the first seven books in the Cougar Challenge series also from Ellora’s Cave is being featured next week. Samantha’s book, Play It Again, Sam will be the feature on Sunday, February 28th and she will be giving away a copy of it. Mari Freeman and her book Sin on Skin will be featured on Saturday, February 27th and giving away a copy of it. Click here for more info!

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