Category Archives: Eggcerpt Exchange

It is time (by Anna Bayes)


Anna Bayes. She’s shameless. She’s bisexual. She’s submissive. She says. I say: if only I had met you sooner, I could’ve spared myself the trip to North Africa (see I’ve slept with a man (course I have)). Anna writes contemporary, paranormal, BDSM and LGBT erotic romances: lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender. I’m not saying you’re asking yourself what LGBT is. I’m just making sure you know.

It is Time. For what? For  ‘15 bite-size tales of love and lust’. Bite, in French, means dick, if you pronounce it right: ‘beat’. The ‘t’ is important, so don’t gobble it.

Anna’s excerpt’s PG to stay on the right side of the rules, no doubt, though heaven knows there’s hardly a thing your average 12-year-old hasn’t heard of or even tried out these days. Like nature, and criminals, they’re mostly one step ahead of our attempts to cage and/or define them.


It is time, I believe.
My heart beats in my throat, and a chilling cold freezes my fingers, but I urge myself to speak my mind. “How many women do you have?”
He regards me calmly.
I gulp, and feel a whirlwind stirring in my stomach, but I look back at him with as much strength as I can muster.
“There are you, Robyn — you already know Robyn, and another girl called Tess.” He articulates slowly and clearly. “Three.”
A dull pain settles in my heart, but I accept it without letting it flare up. “Do they know as well?” I ask.
“Robyn possibly suspected that I had already met you before we had our threesome.” He says. “But no, basically. You are the only one who’ve ever asked.”
I nod.
The question, “Who’s your favorite?” circles in my head, but I know better than to ask that. Instead, I enquire, “You looked so peaceful when I asked you, were you expecting that question?”
“Not exactly.” He brushes a loose strand of hair out of my view as he continues. “But you’re easily the smartest girl I’ve met in my whole life. Whatever query you have, I think it’s best if I answer plainly, instead of trying to lie.”
I take a sip from my lukewarm tea and look around the apartment. The walls are bare; his suitcase is still leaning against the farthest wall, near the window. Except for the drinks on the kitchen counter, our shoes in the doorway and our clothes flung about casually on the floor, the place is empty.
He is in town every month or so, staying for about ten days each time. His business is good, so he can easily afford a spare apartment in the choicest region only for sleep and sex dates. The dingy brown sofa-bed does not bother him; he fucks hard and long on it, then cradles me to sleep.
I had known he was not for keeps, but the way he remembered details from our pillow talk, the meticulous attention he paid my body whenever he enjoyed me, and the sweet nothingness he consistently texted me everyday when he was away gradually built a cage around my heart. I grew attached to him and yearned for him earnestly.
To be fair, there is nothing to blame in him, because he has never deceived. Girls believed what they wanted; he never had to lie. I willingly accepted his sorry excuses whenever I wished to see him; it had always been him setting the time and date, and I showed up each time without fail.
I place the tea on the side, shift my position to face him and drink in his handsome features. His blue-green eyes effortlessly capture my soul; I drown in their watery symmetry. I often wonder if he truly speaks through his eyes, or am I the one convincing myself that I can read loving messages in his gaze. Perhaps I simply recite what my heart craves to hear in my mind when I worship his beauty.


When I think of that threesome, and of what Anna’s not saying, I fast forward in my mind, imagining it from the point of view one of the girls…

Some like it. Some don’t. Some people spend their time reading reviews so they know what they’re supposed to think. I think: I’ve got a brain and I’m a man of taste. That should do.

Can’t wait to see what such scenes look like in Anna’s stories when she’s not playing it safe.  

Amazon US:
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For more about her:
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Twitter (@anna_bayes)

Happy Birthday, Baby! (by Tory Richards)



Tory Richards is a further author from the Eggcerpt Exchange to be featured here. She describes herself as a grandma who likes to write smut. Why smut, Tory? Cos you’re American? Cos over there you hide your booze in a brown paper bag though it might as well be see-through?! I don’t get this false sense of modesty. A woman in her fifties’ll need a good (searching for a euphemism… what the hell, tell it like it is) a good f***, like anyone younger (or older!), even if they, some of them, will have to pay for it. It’s not smut. Stop listening to the wrong people! Sex is as necessary as all the other bodily functions we’re too prudish to mention, only this one’s far more enjoyable. And how you do it or write about it’ll tell me a whole lot about who you are, Tory…

No harm meant. None taken? Good. I know you don’t really think it’s smut. I’m just being a provocateur. You know that. So are you:
‘What better way to spend your fiftieth birthday than with the hot male stripper you’ve been coveting for months!’


I took a breath and decided to plunge ahead. What did it matter if he knew how I felt now? After all, I was going home with him. “I stayed in the shadows so I could watch you without my friends commenting about it. Satisfied?”

“You’ll know when I’m satisfied.” He glanced over at me. “So, you were watching me, too. Maybe if you’d given me a hint or two that you were interested I would have made a move sooner.”

All of a sudden, his warm hand was on my knee. Even that light touch excited me and had my senses swimming. For a stripper his palm wasn’t as soft as I expected it to be. The roughness and calluses revealed he might do something else for a living besides dancing. Only now, I didn’t care because his hand was slowly gliding under my skirt and continuing up my thigh.
Well, I’m sure you haven’t been lonely.” I swallowed with difficulty. If what I said angered him, he didn’t show it. His hand was within an inch of going as far as it could, and I was about to have heart failure.

“Maybe not, but you’re the one I want now. Since the first time I laid eyes on you I’ve wondered what it would be like sinking my cock inside you.” His finger flicked over my pussy and it was all I could do not to jump off the seat. “Jesus, you’re soaked.”

Oh, God! His finger flicking back and forth over my pussy felt so good! I found myself straining toward it, lifting my hips off the seat just a little. He made a right hand turn down a residential street, passing a sign that said it was a dead end. I wished I didn’t have on any underwear; I wanted to feel his finger inside my pussy, and against my clit. My breathing picked up with excitement, and I didn’t even try to disguise it.

Joe made another turn, and the car came to a hard stop. Then he switched off the ignition and everything went dark. I closed my eyes, working my hips against his intimate caress as I felt the pleasure build inside my body. I began to tremble, reaching for something that remained just out of my grasp.

“Joe–” I could hear the frustration in my tone. I wanted to tell him something, yet I couldn’t find the words.

“Tell me what you want, Lana.” His voice was low and a little raspy.

I heard a noise and realized he’d released his seat belt. Then he moved across my body and I felt my seat belt give. As he started to go back to his side, he paused and kissed me, at the same time his finger nudged aside my thong and sank deeply inside my pussy. My body arched with pleasure, and our kiss turned wild. Moans filled the inside of the car, the sounds urging us into a more intimate moment. And then, oh God, he found my clit.

Having been aroused to the point of almost coming more than once this evening, dreaming about Joe for months and wondering what sex would be like with him, it all added up to one colossal orgasm. A couple pinches, a few hard flicks, and I was coming like the geyser at Yosemite. Our mouths locked together, preventing me from expressing my intense pleasure. My first orgasm at the age of fifty seemed to last forever.

I was helpless to do anything but ride it out and wait for the convulsions to die down. More than once Joe’s fingers brushed against my clit, making me jerk wildly. I felt his smile before he removed his mouth from mine. Finally, I was able to take a deep breath, and I leaned my head back against the seat, exhausted. I don’t know how much time went by before he slipped his finger away.

“Would you like to go inside and finish this?”


Happy Birthday Baby is available at Liquid Silver Books:

For more of/about Tory, check out her website:

find her also on Twitter:

and Facebook:


I’m not through.

1. Tory, why did you decide to have a 50-year-old protagonist? Is that a critical  age in the sex life of a woman?

I actually wrote the 50-year-old heroine for one of my publishers as they’d requested a new theme where the heroines were fifty and older.

2. What kind of a 50-year-old were you? What were your routines, concerns, ideas about your future etc?

I was still working for Disney at 50, and taking care of my ailing hubby. Also, that was the age when my first book was published. My life was so wrapped up with my hubby that I don’t think I gave the future any thought. I was living day to day most of the time.

3. Have you ever or would you ever go to a brothel?


4. What do you think about the sex industry in general?

I think I’m a little old-fashioned. Even though I write erotic romance you’ll notice it’s always between one man and one woman. For me sex has to involve emotions and a strong connection. Even in the short stories I write I try to weave some kind of commitment that explains why they’re having sex. Not to say I might venture out of my comfort zone some day because writers evolve.

5. Do you think American women are less daring than, say, their French counterpart?

Probably. It seems we’re always a little behind with what’s acceptable to the public.

6. What’s the hottest book you’ve read so far?

Can’t really answer that but one of my favorite authors is Lisa Bradley. She knows how to write a steamy erotic romance!

7. How do your friends and family feel about the fact that you’re a ‘grandma who likes to read and write smut’?

Supportive, but they don’t read my work. After the first two contemporary romances I wrote I switched to erotica, and it was just too explicit for them. I never get reviews from my family or friends, either.

8. Is there anything you found particularly hard (no pun intended!) about writing erotica?

Definitely! The first time I had to write cock and fuck I must have erased them several times before I finally left them. I’d always considered them strictly bedroom words. But in the end they’re just words.

9. Last question: why do you think erotic fiction is so popular today?

Because it’s exciting, and crosses the boundaries by using the real words and explicit scenes between the characters. No flowery words that imply body parts. And the doors are open. Also, because these stories have plots, unlike porn.

Summer’s Growth (by Tina Gayle)


‘In the spirit-haunted Winston estate in Ohio, rooted in time and occupied by the lingering ghosts of a great family, the torch is about to pass…’

Now I know there are those who’ve called me ‘compulsive repulsive reading’. Compulsive repulsive my aunt’s fanny. Are you enjoying yourselves here, or aren’t you? Is it the same old thing every time? No it is not. And, once again, to prove the point:

Tina Gayle. Summer’s Growth. Contemporary romance with paranormal elements. A fabulous book I’d like to share with you. Nothing to do with erotic. All the ingredients for the type of read that’ll keep your behind riveted on the sofa till your bladder advises you otherwise. And even then…

For more about the plot:

‘Mattie Winston, sober, sensible, and steady, has served as Keeper to the family for decades. Amber Harrison, hovering on the edge of flunking out of college, unsure what she wants out of life, has barely even heard of the Winston estate. The family, however, has decided that it’s time for the changing of the guard. These two exceptional women soon find themselves dealing with violence, murder attempts, and old family mysteries while each finding the love of her life. Two romances and a growing friendship, all twined around a brooding family tragedy, make for an outstanding paranormal mystery offering depth and charm beyond the commonplace. The growing love of Amber and Carter and of Mattie and Quincy offer readers a tender and engaging first novel in a winning new paranormal series.’

Ready for a literary apéritif?


Mattie walked to the end of the table and sat across from him. Dread threatened like a storm on the horizon. She surveyed both sides of the table. None of the other council members were in attendance.

Mattie wiped her sweaty palms along the length of her thighs. What did he want? Jonathan didn’t usually hold a one-on-one meeting in this setting. Normally, they met in her office upstairs.

The muscles in her stomach jerked.

“In concise statement of the facts as I see them,” Jonathan spoke without preamble. “We have found your replacement, and we need to address the issue of your future.”

Her fears were relieved as to the topic of today’s meeting. She decided to address a number of other issues that should be discussed before her future. “Shouldn’t we wait until Amber Harrison accepts the job?”


Startled, Mattie blinked. “Why?”

“Because no matter the outcome, you will still be replaced,” Jonathan declared.

“Yes, but what if Amber doesn’t work out?” For days, she’d speculated on how to approach this subject. “My nephew, Josh Clarkston is a lawyer. He’d make an excellent keeper.”

“No,” Jonathan’s rough voice commanded. “The wisest council will not be misled into offering such an important post to such an unworthy candidate. His character lacks the necessary virtues to accomplish the tasks we require of our keeper.

“As for your sister, Cynthia Clarkston, she never speaks of us without evidence of malice. We find no cause to reward her for her gum and insolence.” The rigid set of Jonathan’s jaw indicated he refuse to budge on the matter. “Like a Redcoat, she only wants what she can get from us. Her son has grown into a bad egg.”

“But…” Her stomach grumbled, mirroring her distress.

“Mattie.” His tone lower, he shook his head. “Many hours have been spent debating the matter. You’ve been a loyal subject since the age of fifteen, and you’ve paid your dues to your family. We hornswoggled you out of your youth. It’s time for you to relinquish control.” An indulging note bled through his words. “No one will ever be good enough to replace you.”

“Yes, but…”

Trust us child to find a soul who will honor your position. Nothing will remove your fears until you can reclaim your life’s mission and enjoy the rest of your days on earth.”

“But what if Amber doesn’t like it here? She’s a young college student from sunny California. Why would she move to Ohio where it’s cold? Even in the summer, we don’t have beautiful weather. The rain can last for days.”

“There is no dispute,” Jonathan growled. “Amber is a Winston. She longs to live here.”
“But you don’t get it. There’s no guarantee. Josh has lived here all his life. He’ll do a good job.” Mattie wished Jonathan could see her point. Things might not turn out like he’d planned.

“Besides Cynthia will be deeply hurt when she finds out everything is under the control of a stranger instead of her son. She won’t understand.”

“The Council’s point exactly. Cynthia cares only for gold, not for others. It’s best for the family to have someone else as the keeper.”

“The Council’s point exactly. Cynthia cares only for gold, not for others. It’s best for the family to have someone else as the keeper.”

The havoc this decision would cause in Mattie’s life washed bitter bile through her mouth. She swallowed, hard.


Summer’s Growth: Money and love. Violence, murder and mystery…
As I keep saying: normality? Where’s that, when it’s at home? And I thought my family was complicated! How can it be otherwise, when families are made up of individuals like us? How can our societies be otherwise, when made up of families like ours? How can the world be otherwise, being home to the societies we breed? I said the societies we breed, not the societies we need… Normality is elsewhere and you know what? Not a f***ing soul lives there. Okay, I’ll stop being ‘compulsive repulsive’ and get back to the Winston Estate.

Read more here :
Buy Summer’s Growth  here:

and what about some of Tina’s other titles:

CFO’s Affair:
Four women. One fatal car wreck. Everyone’s lives changed…

Sylvia Donovan is emotionally wounded from the unexpected death of her husband and still haunted by their last conversation: his request for a divorce and his confession of love for another woman. Her husband gone, her only daughter off to college, Sylvia faces the challenges of learning to live alone and move on with her life.

Vince Wilshire, enchanted with Sylvia, is more than willing to do what it takes to capture the heart of the hurting and untrusting Sylvia.

Can he help her forget the past and make her believe in love again?

Youthful Temptations:
Single again, Linda Clayton is ready to let loose and have some fun. Jilted at a party, she met a younger man, Vaughn Reagan. He has an active imagination and allures her into his life by tempting her with seductive games. 

Vaughn is thrilled to find a woman who doesn’t want children. He offers Linda a job so he can spend his days with her. Now, if he could only convince her to forget their age difference and enjoy the nights in his arms.


How to woo a reluctant bride (by Lyndi Lamont)



When I first learnt that Lyndi Lamont was a librarian, I thought; that’s my kind of woman! Hélène, my third wife, was a blockhead. I don’t think she’s ever read a book in her entire life. She thinks she’s smart, but a person’s face’ll always tell you if they’re bright or not.

Take a look at her on the book cover. She’s got something! She’s bright alright. Tilt of the chin: challenging. Hands on her waist… and the time it’ll take you to open all those buttons to get at her soft flesh…

Love the title. Hands up all those who think ‘How to woo’ is a brilliant opening? Whether we want to admit it or not, we’re thinking about sex practically all the time, aren’t we? They’ll slip a suggestion of it in anywhere to sell almost anything nowadays   (barring pet food, for now…), and not because we’re a bunch of pervs. No. Simply because it’s a natural need we suppress most of the time, but instead of making us civilized, it’s led us to morph into a pack of uptight brutes doing horrible things to each other to replace the one thing we should be doing so we stay balanced and think straight. But I’m yapping too much. Again. I’m not? Well!

How to Woo a Reluctant Bride. A steamy romance. Here’s the summary:
London, June 1885. A marriage of convenience, nothing more…until darkly handsome Evan Channing and demure Lydia Blatchford meet. The rules are simple for an arrangement such as theirs. There should be no misunderstanding, no illusions of anything more. But the rules are about to change…


She broke off at the injured look on his face. “Forgive me, but surely you understand this marriage was never my preference.”
He turned away from her and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, I know, but I hoped you had become resigned to it.”
“I have. At least I have tried to be,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “That’s why I think it best just to plunge ahead. Once the banns have been read thrice, we can wed almost immediately.”
He turned back, a frown still marring his forehead. “Will that give your mother enough time to plan?”
She shrugged. “All I need is a new gown.”
“But won’t society think it odd we married in such haste?”
She looked him in the eye. “Let me make one thing clear. I do not give a fig for what society thinks. If you supposed you were marrying a social butterfly, let me banish that notion right now.”
He smiled at her. “Harry said you were sensible, but this surprises me. I’m happy to agree to a short engagement.” He stepped closer, towering over her. “The sooner I can make you mine, the better.”
Her heart pounded and her breath caught as he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers for but a second before backing away. She drew in a deep breath. Her first kiss and it had been over almost before it was begun. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
“Shall we go inside and discuss the wedding plans with your parents?”
“Not yet. There is something else I’d like to say.” It was now or never.
“Yes, my dear, what is it?”
She licked her lips then plunged ahead. “I know how these things work. Arranged marriages, that is. I won’t expect fidelity from you.”
His shocked expression surprised her. “Is that what you think, Lydia? That I’m marrying you with the intention of cheating on you?”
“Perhaps not now,” she said. “But in a few years. It’s not as if ours is a love match. I won’t cut up a fuss if you decide to take a mistress. As long as you are discreet.”
“How very… sophisticated of you,” he said, his tone dry enough to parch a desert.
She took a deep breath before continuing. “And once I’ve produced the requisite heir and spare, I assume I’ll be free to seek my pleasure elsewhere.”
The thunderous look on his face startled her and she stepped back.
“You will do no such thing,” he said fiercely, reaching for her. “Our union may not be a love match now, but I fully intend to see it turns into one.”
Before she could say a word, he pulled her into his embrace, trapping her arms between them as his encircled her shoulders and waist. Covering her mouth with his, he kissed her with a heady combination of passion and anger. Her resistance crumbled in the face of his onslaught. She clutched at his lapels and returned his kiss, even parting her lips when his tongue probed them. Overwhelmed by the sensations his lips provoked, she let her eyes drift shut as she clung to him.
When he let her go, he was still visibly upset. “There will be no more talk of infidelity. Have I made myself clear, Lydia?”


There’s only one way to know if the darkly handsome Evan Channing stuns his betrothed, Lydia Latchford, in ways you’ve never even thought of yet. I’ll tell you one thing, though: his bedtime reading is the Kama Sutra… And by the sound of things, his bride-to-be isn’t that demure after all. There’s a good read waiting for you, no doubt about that!

99c is all it’ll cost to get your copy of How To Woo A Reluctant Bride at:
Amazon   Barnes & Noble   iTunes   Kobo   Smashwords

Find, follow, like and share Lyndi online at:

It wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to ask you, Lyndi, if you’ve personally worked your way through all the positions in the Kama Sutra. But I bet I’m not the only one who’s dying to know…