Erotic Romance Scavenger Hunt: An excerpt from Bella Leone
The Erotic Romance Scavenger Hunt is a blog hop featuring nineteen authors, a ton of exclusive material and fantastic giveaways, and an amazing grand prize for one lucky scavenger hunter.
Just joined the hunt? Click here to start from the beginning.
RULES: Hidden within each post on the hunt will be a single letter that is red. Jot those letters down because they're part of the following mystery phrase you'll need to unscramble:
At the bottom of each post will be a link to your next stop on the hunt. Once you've completed the hunt, read all the fantastic exclusive material and entered all the individual giveaways, unscramble the letters you collected to reveal the mystery phrase. When you've uncovered the phrase, fill out the entry form in order to qualify for the grand prize. Grand prize is open internationally. You must be 18 or older to enter.
The hunt will only be open for 72 hours so play fast! Entries sent without the correct phrase or without contact information will not be considered. All entries must be received by May 28 at noon Central Time.
On with the hunt!
I am happy to have the honor of hosting my fellow Book Bunny Bella Leone, who is sharing an excerpt from a new short story. Enjoy!
Bella Leone is an erotic romance author who discriminates against no combination of lovers. M/M, M/F, F/F, and all multiples thereof are fair game. She writes about people in like, in lust, and, ultimately, in love. Bella lives in Arizona with her husband and furry minions. When she's not writing, she's usually lending a helping hand to other authors or indulging in her penchant for historical & paranormal fiction, petite brunettes, and athletic gingers.
Find out more about Bella on her WEBSITE.
Excerpt from Fair Puckled
A current work-in-progress is Fair Puckled. A strange name, I know. Fair puckled is a Scottish term I am familiar with from my family meaning overwhelmed or discombobulated. When you are ‘fair puckled' you are obviously harried or inundated. Here is a little snippet of Fair Puckled:
Seriously considering moving to Scotland, I watch what can only be described as packs of ripped, toned, very drunk, kilted men stumble along the paths in front of me. Some of them remind me of the man from the first day, stunning build with the auburn hair and chiseled jaw. I stare at their backs as they laugh and shove each other along the stones of the walk as I make my way on various errands or to find food in the local pubs. Their heavy boots echo their deep laughter. I envy their social circle, their ability to just have fun. I've never really been that person.
Each night on my own, I keep to myself, watching the merriment of the pre-game socializing. I could probably find someone to keep me entertained, but my usual shy wariness keeps me from speaking to many other than the requisite "hello" and "how do you do?" No matter how many women ask me to dance, I shake my head whilst smiling regretfully.
The night before the games are to start, while Dr. McKenzie is dining with his sister and her husband, I make my way to a pub named The Frog n' Firk. I can't help but laugh at the name. Try saying that drunk and with a brogue. Anytime someone speaks the name I chuckle to myself.
"Come on, the music is just getting loud and fun. I'll show you how we do here," asks the most lovely Black Irish girl, Brigit. She's sat beside me for a while now asking me about America. She bought me a pint as she sat beside me and asked me every question imaginable when I told her I came from Boston for the games.
Turning to Brigit as she introduces me to her friend Carine, I smile and greet the statuesque blonde who hails from Isle of Man. For a moment, Brigit exclaims of my stories from "The Americas" which causes me to laugh a little loud. I right my glasses and look around self-consciously. That's when I see him.
The Highlander. My Highlander.
Standing within the crowd, his eyes are trained on me.
A sharp tug to my arm brings my head back around.
"Are you sure you'd not like to have a go?" the gorgeous raven haired lady points to the dance floor over her shoulder.
"I don't think so, Brigit, but thank you," I repeat politely and turn back to see him, but he's gone. Leaning against the bar, I try to tip myself up above the crowd, but he's nowhere in my line of sight. Grabbing my drink, I sigh heavily, bidding the ladies a good night and send myself back to the inn.
Outside the bar, it's getting quite cool with a late afternoon's rain still in the air. Several groups of athletes dressed in their kilts and colors wander through, drinking and cavorting. It begins to get rowdy along the path, so I tuck myself up into my coat and make my way across to the inn, bottle of ale in hand. As I'm leaving the doorway, I take note of a trio of men stumbling into an alley just before the inn. As I pass, I can't help but stop and stare as they lift their dirks and kilts and begin to piss along the stone wall. I'm amazed at how uninhibited they are. So beautiful in their bravery and nonchalance. Must be a Scottish thing, I think to myself as I continue on.
I'm not closeted, not since my early college days. My parents were shocked, but in time, they've come to accept who I am. Being gay, does not make me a giddy individual, despite the nomenclature. I'm not loud in any way and surely not proud other than for my academic successes and my abilities at Scrabble.
Flopping down in my room, I begin to think about the men in the alley. They didn't give a damn what anyone thought of them. As I shove my glasses back into place, I envy their ability not to care for rules or requirements. My mind wanders back along my time so far in Scotland. All the books and meetings and notes. Other than some of the incredible sights and some fun observations in pubs, I've not really allowed myself to truly enjoy my time here.
Lamenting how I could have someone to enjoy my time with, I slug the last of the ale I walked home with. I know I have Dr. McKenzie with me, but he's much more of a social leader and enjoys being the center of all attentions. Not quite my style, as well as not knowing how he would react to my taste in dates. He's a fairly kind man, but he's also a professor in a very conservative department at the university and I'm pretty sure he's a registered Republican.
Taking a deep breath, I think about the Highlander. I imagine how I ran into him along the street my first day on the isle. His striking blue-green eyes and bemused smile that was higher on one side. He was tall and lean, not at all like the large brutish men in the alley. Remembering his accent causes my dick to twitch slightly. When I picture his eyes, how they appraised me so brazenly in the bar, how he openly showed his interest, or at least how I wished he had. My mind begins to insert how I wished our moment had gone and my fantasy blooms with my lust.
I imagine him offering to show me Dunoon. Thoughts of us drinking in the pubs and walking the cobble-stone streets flood my head. Visions of him throwing the caber and darts blur behind my eyes. I picture us in a field of clover and heather, laughing as he recounts his victories. My heart races at thoughts of how he could touch me softly as we kiss. How his hand could control my body and command a response with simple, firm touches.
Before I realize, I'm stroking myself earnestly while picturing his hand rubbing and pulling on my cock. To feel his body pressing against mine, to hear his words and feel his breath on my skin, would help me climb to my release. His tongue brushes against mine and I open to allow him deeper access. It doesn't take long to find my climax. I moan into my free hand, cumming to the vision of his deep blue eyes staring into mine.
I wrote this for my friend Rheana who loves hot boys in kilts and hopefully soon you'll all be able to read the entire Fair Puckled!
Thank you for reading!
Ready to move on? The next stop on the Erotic Romance Scavenger Hunt is... Fae Sutherland!