Your darkest desires and deepest dreams are brought to life by the pens of twelve talented authors of erotic fiction. Join them for an exploration of their garden of delights as each month a different author delves into the heart of her fantasies.

Together, we cover a number of genres from historical to futuristic, from scary horror to action/adventure, from erotically sensual to pass-the-fire-extinguisher-HOT! As a group, we have written more than 100 novels.

Our newsletter is released on the 15th of each month. We'll always have interesting articles, excerpts, and featured author interviews, as well as recipes, reviews, and answers to any of your questions about our books and your favorite characters. Each month we'll have a contest with lots of good things to give away to our newsletter subscribers.

Congratulations to the lucky winner of last month's contest, Jennifer Tower! Jennifer will receive a wonderful e-book, an amber heart necklace and matching earrings, a candle, a tee shirt with Symphony In Rapture's gorgeous cover on the front, and Pleasure Balls from Devilish Dot!

Treva Harte, author of the month, is offering wonderful prizes for our March Contest drawing!

Treva's books range from contemporary to futuristic, but all sizzle with emotion and her characters are to die for! My favorite has always been 'Perfect', but all her books are captivating and exciting!

Excerpt from a review for PERFECT:
"...Perfect is a smart, sexy book about smart, sexy people. With a cast of characters you'd want to meet in real life and a tight storyline that keeps the pages turning, it is one of the best- written books I've come across in a long time. I found myself rooting for Brooke and Sam, hoping that they would find each other and overcome their prejudices and misgivings. Altogether, Perfect is a great read."—Jennifer Macaire for Word Weaving

Contest information compiled by Samantha Winston

Sensual Romances had their first ever sweetheart of a chat on February 14. Katherine Kingston, Cassie Walder, Jennifer Dunne, and Treva Harte talked about their latest releases, the CAPA awards and everything else under the sun. Join us for our next chat on April 15th where we will NOT discuss income taxes.

J.C. Wilder - Thanks for sitting down with me, Treva. I noticed that you write contemporaries, time travel and fantasies. Do you have a favorite genre?
Treva Harte - Well, I like them all—at least when I have the idea and I’m writing the book. My comedy/futuristics tend to make me chuckle a lot so I might like them the best. But I wouldn’t swear to it.

J.C. – What drives you to write?
TH - Beats me. I knew I was supposed to be a writer when I was a kid. But I stopped writing in grad school—English Lit beat all the creativity out of me. Mysteriously, decades later, I decided to take it up again as a hobby. Ha. Once I started it was like the addiction had never stopped. I suppose that’s why I do write. When it goes well, the pleasure part of my brain says YESSSS, I like this!

J.C. – How long have you been writing professionally?
TH - Four years. Almost three years if you mean from when I was first published.

J.C. – I see you’re quite prolific, what is your typical writing schedule?
TH - I used to have none. Actually, at first the schedule was as soon as the day job was over and the kids were fed, I’d write until I fell over on the keyboard. I have too much to do nowadays—I’ve worked things out so the writing is now on weekends, very early in the morning, and all the editing, marketing, etc. is after dinner on weekdays. Unless, of course, something happens and I just HAVE to get it down right then.

J.C. – You have a pretty demanding day job and you’re raising a family, what kind of advice would you give to a beginning writer?
TH - Depends. If you mean writing, writing—read a lot and take classes on how to do it then write, write, write. Get a good critique partner and write more. If you mean writing professionally—join professional organizations to learn the market and start coming up with ways to enter that market. But don’t wait until you have the time. That will never happen.

J.C. – I understand you’ve started your own publishing company. Would you like to tell us about it?
TH - Of course I want to tell you. I’m very excited about Loose Id! I’ve wanted to start my own publishing company ever since it dawned on me that I don’t write what most mainstream publishers would consider printworthy. I’m thrilled to finally have the chance to join two other people whom I admire greatly and venture into the brave new world of epublishing. We’re looking for well-crafted cross-genre and other stories that aren’t the same old stuff. Check out www.loose-id.com. We just signed on MaryJanice Davidson and, um, well, me, along with some cool newcomers and multi-pubbed authors who are using a new pen name. Pant, pant. I’m sure I could tell you more, but that’s probably more than enough about my new baby.

J.C. – Tell us about your latest book.
TH - Time of Her Life is my last book for the Time series. The Time books were the very first books I started work on when I took up writing again. I still love the energy in them. But I did have to revise, revise, revise before they were published. Of them all, TOHL is my favorite. I love Kevin. Of all my heroes, I could see being married to that guy. He’s gorgeous and a sweetheart. Annie was smart to get over her inhibitions and latch onto him.

J.C. – What do you have coming up?
TH - Every Good Boy Deserves Favor is first in a new series about a futuristic world where there are too few women and a lot of very needy men. It’s been fun figuring out all the ways women can work that world.

J.C. – What is your favorite dessert?
TH - Chocolate anything.

J.C. – Do you have any pets?
TH - One neurotic mini-dachshund named Marlene. And one rather amusing Betta fish named Herman Acapulco (my daughter named him.) He always looks so happy to see me—unless he’s thinking about how he’d like to rip me from limb to limb. It’s hard to tell with fish.

J.C. – Anything else you’d like to share?
TH - I love email, of course. You can write to me at trevaharte@hotmail.com or go through my website http://www.trevaharte.com/.

This THEME is GREEN for St. Paddy’s day! Eating your vegetables has never been this FUN before!

Contributed by Samantha Winston, author of A GRAND PASSION:

Spring is here and so are the first asparagus. Easy to cook and serve, use them as edible paintbrushes and decorate your lover's body with sweetly tart, warm balsamic vinaigrette...

Asparagus (Serves 6)
2 lbs fresh asparagus, trimmed
walnut oil
balsamic vinagar
parmesan cheese shavings
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Bring a large pot of water to boil and add asparagus - simmer until tender (depending on the size of the asparagus - 3 to 7 minutes). Put the asparagus on a plate and drizzle with walnut oil and balsamic vinagar. Grind black pepper and shave parmesan cheese over asparagus. Serve immediately.

...The asparagus arrived within minutes. Casey tasted a spear and sighed. "This is wonderful. They mixed walnut oil with the balsamic vinegar…What a good idea."

"I suppose you don't eat as well in America," Alessandro said.

"It depends on where you are, but no, usually it's not as good."

"You can eat them with your fingers, you know," he said, picking a spear up and nibbling on it.

"I didn't know that," she admitted. "Are you sure?"

"One of my ex-fiancées was a society girl. She tried to civilize me.

"Some things stuck." He made a sour face. "And some things didn't. I suppose you think most soccer players are barbarians too?"

"No," she answered. "I don't know any soccer players except you, and I don't know you at all. How could I judge you?"

"I don't know…Forgive me. I'm not usually so rude. So…how do you like Italy so far?" His grin was boyish now. His face was mobile and expressive, and when he looked at her, he gave her his whole attention. Casey had never been with someone so vibrant.

Artichokes are easy to cook and fun to eat – especially this way!

Ingredients:

Two large artichokes
2 cups water
4 tbsp. butter or margarine
½ tsp. salt
1 tsp. garlic powder
Dash of black pepper

Remove any discolored leaves and the tiny leaves at the base of the artichokes. Place the two artichokes upright in a large pan with a lid. Pour in the water. Bring to a boil, then turn the heat down and cover. Simmer for 30 minutes, or until leaves pull out easily and bottom is tender when pierced with a knife.

In separate small saucepan, melt butter over low heat and blend in the dry ingredients.

When artichokes and dipping sauce are cooled sufficiently, pour a bit of the sauce into yours or your partner’s belly button. Dip in your artichoke leaves and enjoy!

LADIES: (You know how men love watching a woman eat an ice cream cone. Tonight, make the fantasy that runs through his mind come alive!)

REQUIREMENTS: One cake cone and one can of non-dairy whipped topping.

INSTRUCTIONS: Have your lucky man get naked and lie on his back in the bed. Bite off the bottom of the cone, creating a hole wide enough for his penis to fit through. Slip the hole over and down along his member, so that his penis is inside the cone. Fill the spaces between his penis and the cone with whipped topping, remembering to create a mound at the top that resembles a scoop of ice cream. Lick and nibble at the topping, slowly making the scoop disappear as you drive him wild anticipating the first touch of your teasing tongue on his member. Continue to eat and pleasure your man orally until the cone is gone and his own unique version of ‘cream’ tops off your desert!

GENTLEMEN: (Once again, the stimulation of a minty-cool accessory will drive your woman wild!)

REQUIREMENTS: One glass of peppermint schnapps.

INSTRUCTIONS: Have your partner lie on her back with her knees bent and legs slightly apart. Pour a small amount of peppermint schnapps into your woman's navel. Taste the liquid with the tip of your tongue and trace small circles around one of your woman's nipples, blowing occasionally to create a tingly, cooling sensation. Do the same thing to her other nipple. Again dip your tongue into the pool of schnapps. Run your tongue along both sides of her vagina and gently blow. Continue to pleasure your woman orally, pausing to reapply the schnapps to your tongue as necessary, until she begs for mercy!

A shaft of light shone down the stairs as the door opened. The heavy tread of footsteps coming down the stairs filled the small room.

Her head swiveled, hope filling her eyes. A tall figure appeared, dressed in jeans and a plain white shirt stretched taut against his powerful chest. One dark eyebrow rose, looking at her crouched on the floor.

Luke.

In that instant, comprehension dawned on her. “You’re behind this? You kidnapped me,” she said accusingly.

His sensuous lips parted in a small grin. “Nothing quite so dramatic, I assure you.”

“I want to get out of here,” she demanded.

“You will,” he replied. “Eventually.”

“E-Eventually?” she sputtered. She scrambled to her feet and clenched her fists in fury. “My fiancé is probably looking for me. My whole family is probably worried out of their minds because I missed my own engagement party.” Taking a deep calming breath, she tried to stem her rising hysteria as she lifted her chin. “Do you realize the trouble you’ve put yourself in?”

He shrugged. “They probably already received your note saying you needed time to think. To do that, you decided to go away for a few days.”

Emma gasped in shock. “What?”

“Your fiancé, I’m sure, will understand your sweetly worded note that said things have progressed too quickly and you have some issues you have to resolve. By the way,” he added with a small smile, “you also promised to call him in a few days.”

The color drained from her face. “Why are you doing this?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” His gaze turned intense, almost burning in its regard. “We have unfinished business. Until that’s taken care of, I won’t allow another man to have you,” he said softly.

“What are you saying?” Her stomach dipped, but inside, deep inside, Emma knew.

“You were mine from the first day I saw you. Never doubt that.” The possession in his voice was unmistakable. His words were outrageous, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You’re a woman now; you can give me what I need.”

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat. “You’re insane.”

He shook his head. “The time has come for me to claim what has always been mine.”

“So you kidnapped me?” she asked in disbelief.

“It’s kidnapping only when I hold you against your will,” he said confidently. “But you’re not unwilling, are you Emma? When I ate your pussy in your apartment, you were moaning desperately to come in my mouth.” He looked at her hotly. “I can have you begging me in seconds.”

Emma shook her head and stepped back, her heart pounding madly. “Let me go, Luke.”

“No.”

“What do you want from me?” she cried.

“Everything. I want everything from you Emma, and don’t you doubt that I’ll get it. You’re mine,” he repeated harshly.

“No,” she denied in a small whisper.

His eyes darkened dangerously. “Take off your clothes.”

“Go to hell,” she retorted angrily, though she moved back two steps for good measure.

“Take them off or I’ll tear them off.” His voice was deceptively soft, but the warning was clear.

Emma put out a hand. “Don’t come near me. I’ll scream.”

Luke laughed, a rich, deep sound that filled the room. “Go ahead. Nobody will hear you. We’re miles away from the nearest neighbor. Right now, it’s only me and you in this big house.”

“I’ll get away from you the first chance I get,” she declared defiantly.

“You can try,” he invited mockingly. He gestured to her clothes. “Off.”

“And I repeat, you can go to hell Luke.”

He took a step towards her, making her move back involuntarily. “I’ve been there Emma. Hell is to want you and never have you. Hell is sleeping with a woman who has your shade of golden blonde hair, or has the same blue eyes, but who isn’t you. That’s hell,” he growled roughly, heatedly. “Hell is watching you from afar, the need to touch you—to have you—an almost constant physical ache. Hell is having a hunger that is never assuaged, no matter what I do or who I fuck. Because it’s not you.”

Emma saw naked, unadulterated hunger in his eyes. She shivered. The enormity of her situation began to sink in. Locked away in this basement, she was helpless and under his control.

“The clothes,” he ordered once again.

It was insanity to continue defying him, but she’d be damned if she would meekly do as he commanded. “Never.”

She went to Durak. His eyes were closed, and he looked as if he might be asleep. His hair was cut too short on the sides and at the nape for his angular face. A fringe of longer hair, thick and black, fell rakishly across his brow. She swept it back and laid her hand across his forehead. His skin felt hot, as if he were burning up with fever, but that could be because her hands were so cold. She could always do what her mother had done to check her temperature when she was young...kiss his temple.

Kelsey hesitated. He was asleep or unconscious. Either way he would never know. She leaned forward and watched him for a moment. His face was lean and hard with a not-quite-square jaw and prominent brow. His temples were slightly sunken, framed by cranium and sharp cheekbones. Only the soft lines of his lips relieved the starkness of his countenance and provided a hint of sensuality.

Kelsey pressed her mouth to his temple before she could give in to the impulse of kissing those lips. A secluded cabin was definitely the place, but this wasn’t the time. He felt warmer than normal, but not dangerously so. With luck, his temperature wouldn’t go any higher now that they were inside with a fire for warmth and he was wrapped protectively in blankets.

Brushing his hair back one more time, she started to stand when he grabbed her hand and pulled her back down close to him. His eyes were wide open and looking at her.

“This is developing into a bad habit,” she said.

His grip was as solid as iron, and he didn’t even flinch when she twisted her hand one way and then another, trying to break free. He was injured, cold, and possibly ill. It didn’t make sense that she couldn’t overpower him.

But none of this night made sense. Why was he out here in the first place? Why was he buck naked, sporting a hole the size of her fist in his side?

Why had the huge pawprints turned into his footprints?

“I need you,” he whispered, his voice dry and shaky.

For a split second, a canine muzzle replaced his face. She blinked and had the feeling that he had turned from man to beast to man again, rather than the image of a large dog superimposed over him. She shook her head. She was letting her imagination run away with her.

“What do you need?” she asked softly. “I brought plenty of food if you’d like something to eat. Or do you want water?”

His head shook in the negative, one short sharp jerk to the side. “I want you.”

Kelsey frowned. “You want me to what?”

He shook his head again. “I want you, Kelsey. No time to explain, but I need to discharge.”

“You mean you want to...” Her voice trailed off.

“Fuck you.”

Well, that was blunt. During her time with Charles she’d noticed Durak was a man of few words, and when he did speak he said exactly what he needed to say with no embellishment. His being delusional hadn’t changed that.

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ve been injured and you’re running a fever. When you get well, then we’ll talk.” She smiled and laid her hand over his to let him know that she was definitely interested.

He shook his head yet again and scowled. “You don’t underSTAND--” And his voice rose into a howl of distress. His face once again changed into a canine muzzle and his hand morphed into a huge paw with claws instead of fingers. Almost instantly, he changed back to human.

With strength born of panic, Kelsey jerked free of his grip. She scrambled away from him and whatever he was. It definitely wasn't her imagination. She rubbed her wrist where she'd felt thick fur and sharp claws against her skin. Her heart hammered in her chest as she once again recalled how the pawprints had suddenly become footprints in the snow.

“What is going on?" she shouted at him, fear making her voice quiver.

His body jackknifed and he groaned, a deep mournful sound, as fur briefly replaced smooth, taut skin. “Werewolf,” he whispered.

“What?”

“I’m a werewolf. No time...no...time...” His hand-paw-hand reached for her. “Too much energy. Overload. Can’t control. Need to discharge now—need to fuck you now.”

Kelsey drew back, beyond arm's length, and watched him. Werewolves weren't real! Yet, he was changing right before her eyes. And wasn't that the thought she'd refused to consider while looking at the two sets of prints in the snow? That he'd somehow transmogrified from a four-legged beast into a two-legged human.

What if the reverse occurred right now and he turned completely into a wolf? Legendary lycanthropes were ravening creatures that slaughtered anyone in their paths. Would he be any different?

Kelsey took a step toward the door, fully intending to run to the SUV and get the hell out of there. But his voice, crackling with the effort, stopped her in her tracks.

“I want you, Kelsey."

He needed her, but he also wanted her. She looked back and his hand was still stretched out toward her. He wanted her. Didn't that make all the difference in the world?

"I wish it could be different because I've wanted you a long time."

Kelsey took a step, then hesitated. "I want you, too, but I'm scared."

"No danger, I promise." He changed again, from man to wolf to man. "I won't hurt you."

With a deep breath, Kelsey made the decision to take a chance and trust him. She took his hand-paw-hand, fascinated by the way it morphed from one to the other. If having sex would release him from this flickering between wolf and human, what else could she do?

Durak threw back the blankets and coat and suddenly the cabin was much too warm for her. His cock was fully erect, long and thick, jutting at an angle from its nest of dark hair. Heat flushed through her, hot desire she hadn’t felt in a long time curling in the pit of her belly. For months, she’d suppressed these feelings for him, thinking he was out of her reach. Now that she could allow them, they consumed her completely.

She undressed quickly, popping buttons in her haste to remove her sweater. She dropped her jeans and panties, already dampened with the juices of her desire, and pulled off boots and socks. She cast her leg over and straddled him. He must have reached critical because the change between human and wolf accelerated until she wasn’t sure which she’d mount, the man or the animal.

Suddenly, Alia felt the crystal walls and floor of the chamber begin to vibrate with an intensity she had never felt before, not even during the devastating landshake five years ago. That shaking had destroyed much of the city and had caused many deaths. Things were just now returning to normal. Surely they couldn't be going through that again.

The older Priestess's eyes met with Alia's. Fear was in that woman's eyes. Alia felt none too calm herself.

A sharp odor, like that of the air after a lightning strike, filled Alia's nose. Then there was a prolonged surge of light so bright that Alia closed her eyes in reaction. Yet, even that protection wasn't enough. She could see the light through her closed eyelids. She raised her arm to cover her eyes.

Alia could hear the thunder of footfalls as people came running from throughout the Temple complex. The light gradually subsided to the point that Alia could comfortably open her eyes.

There, between her and the sacred fire, at a comfortable reach, lay a dagger that she had never before seen. It was silver in color, with an irregular stone the color of cooler red flame set in the thick handle. The blade was long and double-edged. The hilt curved downward on each side of the blade. It would be a most formidable weapon in the hands of one intending to do harm. Yet, doing harm was not the purpose of the weapon.

She had never seen the dagger, but she knew it as all did who studied the ancient writings of her clan as well as the history of the People. The Blade of Destiny!

Alia could hear the chanting of her foremothers, chanting that grew until she could hear nothing else.Child of the Goddess, child of Earth and star, wind and water.

Noller made his way through the crowd as she reached for the dagger.

As though the dagger was charged with static, Alia's fingers and hand tingled as she grasped the hilt. The hilt was warm, not uncomfortably warm, but warm like living flesh. And like living flesh, the hilt pulsed with energy. The warmth permeated her hand and spread throughout her body, like a surge of desire. That warmth, like desire, settled tingling in her breasts, making them grow heavy, and in her womb. She turned the dagger in her hand so that she was holding it by the blade and looking into the oddly shaped red stone.

Noller came to her side and then knelt down beside her. "Blessed be Light," he said, his voice awed.

Everyone, except Alia, echoed that blessing.

"Blessed be Light that gives us life," Noller continued in the liturgical prayer.

Alia, lost in the wonder of the moment, did not hear them. The chanting of her foremothers still filled her head. Her eyes were fixed upon the changing image within the stone. She watched the stone as the solid red color became a dancing red, like the flickering of a cool cooking flame, then those flames cleared away.

Inside the stone was displayed. Although the image was itself small within the stone, the clarity was astonishing. It was as though the image expanded to life sized within her mind, letting her see all the details.

The image was of two men and herself. The men faced one another and stood one on her right and the other on her left. She was naked, her auburn hair unbound and hanging free, covering her breasts. The men were clothed.

One of the men was Noller. He wore the grand festival robes of his office. The other was a strong looking, large man with hair as unusual in color as her own, only his was shortly cropped and curly. His face was covered in freckles, just as hers was. She had no idea of the man's name. He wore the rough clothing of a field worker. Then, as if he realized he needed more to compete, he looked at his clothing and changed that, by simple force of his will, into a richly detailed Heitan robe as fine as Noller's own festival robes.

Each man held gently and firmly onto one of her hands. In the image she saw herself being pulled, ever so gently, between them. There was both need and tenderness, along with a shade of fear of loss, on the face of each man. She knew whomever she chose, she would hurt one of them and hurt herself as well. Either way, she would lose someone, something, very important to her. So, she didn't want to choose. The jealousy, possessiveness of the curly-haired man was as strong as it was unexpected.

Each man moved towards her. Both of them kissed the side of her face nearest to him. There was equal tenderness, passion, and affection in both men's way of dealing with her. Both men loved her in his own way of expressing that emotion. Either of them, both of them, would have moved land, sea, and sky to keep her with him.

She loved both of them totally, completely, without reservation, with every fiber of her being. Both of them were as essential to her happiness as was continuing to breathe. They were as necessary to her being able to function, as having two legs were to her being able to walk.

Both men needed her. She needed both of them in very different ways, but she had to choose. She didn't know why it was so. She only knew that it was. She could not have both men. It would be one or the other. Yet, if not both, she would have neither. The agony of needing to choose between them, between the lives they represented, was almost more than she could bear.

Then the image and the chanting faded.

Alia kissed the stone in veneration, trying to make sense of the vision it showed her. It was not a happy vision. She would need to think about it for a very long time, she suspected. Still, according to the law of the Temple, this vision needed to be adjudicated before a tribunal. She didn't want to have to relate something this personal. Yet, there was no choice. The Blade had come. It had come to her. The visions, although seemingly personal, were for the good of the People.

"Blessed be Light in which we live and move and have our being," the group echoed the final blessing of the liturgical prayer.

Alia slid the blade between her belt and habit tunic as she rose to her feet.

Noller smoothly rose to stand beside her. "Dame Alia, the People will want an explanation," he told her. "They've most likely come running to Temple Square and are now gathered, waiting and fearful."

Please visit our website Sensual Romances at http://www.sensualromances.com

For comments or suggestions in general about the Sensual Romance Newsletter, please e-mail comments@sensualromances.com
Or we can be reached by writing to
Sensual Romances Newsletter, 1337 Commerce Dr. #13, Stow, OH 44224.

To e-mail individual authors, please visit their websites or use the e-mails listed below: