New Erotic Demon Release: Or Current Resident by Zenobia Renquist (IR)

Out today!

Or Current Resident (Soul Debt) by Zenobia Renquist
Or Current Resident
[Soul Debt]
by Zenobia Renquist

Publisher: Changeling Press
Genre: Erotic Dark Fantasy Romance, Demons, Interracial, Voyeurism and Exhibitionism
Price: $4.99/US
Length: Novella

Hidden fees are hell to pay when a demon collects.

Cheyenne didn’t know what she was in for when she took over her friend’s lease. She thought she was getting a perfect apartment with reasonable rent. And then a demon shows up on her first night, demanding the sex that’s owed him. That’s when she regrets not reading before she signs, though she doesn’t regret it long.

The landlord made a deal with August — an entire apartment complex as his sexual playground in exchange for personal gain. Cheyenne is August’s latest acquisition, and his prowess has her eagerly awaiting his return. She happily meets his every challenge because the second she refuses, he’ll drop her into Hell to satisfy his many brothers instead.

With the end of the lease approaching, Cheyenne discovers emotions developing for a demon who could probably never return her feelings. The terms of the agreement are simple, but she’s planning to negotiate for an extension with an option for love.

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 Cheyenne swallowed and licked her dry lips. She didn't know what came next but her heart pounded in anticipation. She crawled onto the bed with her ass pointed at August and moved her knees apart as far as they would go, dipping her pussy close to the comforter.

"Damn, I love your eagerness. You're already wet, and I haven't told you what we're doing yet."

She watched him over her shoulder. He took one step toward the bed, and she wiggled her hips -- an involuntary motion that made August chuckle. He shook his head. "Stop it before I fuck you and ruin my plans."

"I can't help it." She arched her back down, pressing her ass into the air. "You made me like this."

"Yes, I did. I do damn good work, if I do say so myself. Who would have thought the shy girl who moved in here over a year ago would be such an exhibitionistic sex kitten?" He bumped the bed as he got closer. "I could just stand here, and you would come from me staring at you."

Her breath caught and she clenched her pussy, sending an arc of pleasure up her spine. He was right. His gaze alone, staring at her, fixating on her gaping slit, had her remembering every touch, every caress, every decadent lick. She panted as she lowered her upper body to the bed so she rested on her breasts.

She flexed and rolled her pelvis, riding a dick that wasn't there. Just August's gaze. Watching. Wanting. Craving her.

August flipped the tip of one finger over her asshole. That little bit of contact sent Cheyenne into a convulsive orgasm, shaking her and the bed. She moaned low in her throat as the sensation rumbled through her.

"Fucking hotter than Hell on a summer day." He slid his hand over her ass. "You are so tempting right now."

"Please. Please, August." Her orgasm had made her more sensitive. She would come again from August entering her, no movement needed.

"No, and no begging. I've got something better in store for you. Now behave and stop trying to distract me." He swatted her ass, which made her squeak before she wiggled her hips.

He opened the box he held and pulled out a metal, teardrop anal plug with a blue-jeweled base. "Stainless steel, and this" -- he turned it so she could see the jewel -- "is a real sapphire."

She blinked at the blue gem, not believing it was real. It couldn't be. It was the size of a fifty-cent piece. "It's not."

"It is. From the personal collection of a king with lots of wishes and a bank account to back them up. It's not my usual style to take monetary payment, but I couldn't pass up certain pieces. Now I'm glad I didn't. I had this particular sapphire mounted on this little beauty just for you." He bobbed the plug.

"That's not little," she said in a breathy voice.

"It is compared to the one I have planned for later."

"How much later?" Though it didn't matter since she wasn't sure she would be able to take it. August had fingered her ass on many occasions but they hadn't done more than that because she'd been too scared to try anything else.

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Zenobia Renquist
Discover Different and Unique Romance

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New Release! Wedding Heat: Lickity Split

Wedding Heat: Lickity Split, the eleventh ebook in the Wedding Heat series, is now available from select retailers!

Bridesmaids Shonette and Kristen are definitely not a couple. They’ve been sleeping together pretty much forever and they don’t date other people, but still… the last thing they want is for people to think they’re lesbians.

The girls tell everyone they’re just friends, but the bride’s cousin Vanessa is not convinced. Vanessa’s a hardcore dyke, and she can spot femmes in lust from a mile away. When Shonette denies she loves Kristen, Vanessa won’t let go. She’s got ice cream and she knows how to use it.

WARNINGS: This title contains chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream, bananas, and explicit lesbian threesome sex.

“I must be drunk,” Kristen said, falling back in bed. “Drunk, or dreaming.”

“Tell yourself whatever it takes to get that sheet down.” Vanessa mixed the chocolate ice cream into a sweet paste. “Come on, Krissy. Show us your tits.”

“Go to hell!”

“Show us your tits.”


“Show us your tits.”

Shonette caught the fever. “Yeah, show us your tits.”

“Fine,” Kristen said, like a brat. “You want to see my tits? Here!”

When Kristen flipped down the sheet, Shonette’s pussy pounded. She’d seen that body countless times. It wasn’t usually this exciting. Something about Vanessa standing there in the corner, staring at that body she’d never wanted to share… it was strangely exciting.

“Hold her down,” Vanessa said. “Take off your panties and sit on her face.”

Never in her life had Shonette been in a situation like this. Without thinking, she pushed down her underpants. Should she take off her bra too? No, not without Vanessa’s instruction. She’d do what she was told. Nothing more, nothing less.


Wedding Heat: Lickity Split is available from:

All Romance:

Barnes and Noble:




Rainbow eBooks:


Find out more about the Wedding Heat series:

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Excerpt from Virtue of a Governess

In 1867 Nicola Douglas attends a London lecture that inspires her to change her life. With no family, but a good education, she boards a ship to Australia with high hopes of a fresh start in a new country as a governess. But Sydney is full of young women with similar hopes and equally poor prospects. When Nicola is at her lowest, she meets Nathaniel West. Try as she might, her attraction to Nathaniel West grows. She also meets a visiting American, Hilton Warner. As both men shower her with attention, Nicola reaches a crisis. She came to Australia expecting to be a governess, but finding love, and being married, shows how empty her life has been since her parents' death. Her achievements at the Governess Home are vital to her. Can she have both? To reject both men would relegate her to spinsterhood, but if she makes that choice, would her career ever be enough to sustain her?

Nat shook the sweat from his eyes, ducking his head and weaving to the side, making sure he kept his shoulders and fists up high to protect his chin. From the corner of the chalked square, he made out the old hunched-back man, who stood and, holding the brass bell aloft, rang it heartily three times. Cheers and shouts went up, there was a surge towards the fighters but the organiser’s men held the rowdy mass back.
 “Christ man, what’s taking you so long?” Tristan thumped Nat’s back, laughing. “You should have had him in the first minute. The man is lead-footed.”
Nat wheezed the air into his lungs and wiped the sweat from his eyes. “I want to keep out of his reach, he can hit like a hammer.”
“Nonsense, man. He’s like a windmill, arms everywhere.”
“Shut up will you, and get me some water.” Nat closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the sight and noise of men baying for his blood. What possessed him to agree to this fight? He was no longer a young man of twenty. It’d been a few years since he celebrated his thirtieth birthday, which should have been enough warning to give up this sort of sport and stick to cricket. He hadn’t been practising in months, and it showed.
Tristan thrust a crude tin cup into his hands and water sloshed over his wrist. “It’s only water, perhaps you need something stronger.”
“Sod off.” He gulped the water down just as the hunchback rang the bell again. Surging to his feet, he berated himself once more in agreeing to this madness. Already his opponent, some dockland fellow with missing teeth, had jabbed him in the ribs, which ached when he moved. Another lucky punch had caught his eye and likely tomorrow he’d have the bruise to show for it.
He raised his fists, keeping light on his feet as he’d been taught as a schoolboy back home in England. His wiry opponent gave a little jab, testing the way it was to be in this round, but Nat was tired of the game. It’d been a spur of the moment decision to enter the square, a desperate need to burn off some restless energy that bedding with his current mistress didn’t do last night.
Weaving, ducking, he circled the opposite man, looking for a way to end the match so he could return to his club and drown his sorrows for another day. He thought of her then, the woman who’d haunted his mind. Nicola Douglas. His blood grew thick in his veins as an image of her face swarmed before him.
He never saw the punch, just felt the intense pain of the other man’s fist hitting his jaw. The impact made him bite his tongue and the stinging pain joined the thudding ache of his face. He staggered, tasted blood. The crowd, mainly all working class, shouted encouragement to their champion and jeered at Nat when he readied himself again.
Anger cursed through Nat and brought him awake and into focus. Thinking of that damned woman had been his downfall. He’d be on his back if he didn’t concentrate.
Uttering a filthy swear word, he pivoted on one foot, danced a side-step and taking the fellow unawares gave him a quick three jab attack that sent the man to his knees. Nat jigged away, hopping from foot to foot at the edge of the square, waiting to see if he regained his feet, but the fellow knew he was beat and surrendered the purse.
Declared the winner by Mr Kent, the organiser, Nat was given the purse of four guineas. The unruly crowd went into a frenzy, the shouts and yelling growing into a deafening roar, as not many had backed Nat. He knew their thinking, a workingman’s strength up against a toff who did nothing but sit around in his club all day. But who’d got the last laugh this time? Little did they know that he enjoyed physical pursuits and had been fighting since he was a small boy. Not many had the better of him.
“Excellently done, West.” Tristan once more thumped his back and gave Nat his shirt and coat. Nat winced, moving his shoulders to ease on the shirt over the wet stickiness of his sweat-soaked body.
“Let’s get out of here.” Nat grabbed the rest of his belongings from Tristan. Now the fight was over, it wouldn’t pay to stay in this rough neighbourhood. The four guineas was hardly worth it really, but then it’d never been about the money, just the sheer joy of beating another. However, today the win left him with a sour taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the bloodied tongue and lip.
“Wait, I’ve yet to collect.” Tristan disappeared into the press of workingmen.
Nat groaned in frustration. Hanging around would only be asking for trouble. Already he was sensing a change in the atmosphere. He kept his head down but managed to glance around, taking in the situation. Mr Kent was arguing in the corner with five men, all baying for blood. They’d lost heavily by the looks of it. Shrugging on his jacket, Nat walked backwards a bit, heading towards the barn doors and the alley beyond. Damn Tristan, where was he?
“Mr West!”
Nat swung around and waited for Kent to wield a path through the thick of the crowd towards him. “I’ve an appointment, Kent, got to go.”
“Can I book you in for another fight next month?”
“No, not this time.” He wasn’t stupid. Kent had scored a high profit today.
Tristan joined them, hurriedly stashing coins into his bulging pockets like a child stealing sweets. “Nice afternoon’s entertainment,” he said with a grin.
“Let us go.” Nat made for the door, glaring at any man who made eye contact with him. Lord, he was stupid to risk his neck at these back alley fights. If anything happened to him, Frances would be alone.
Once clear of the old barn, he squinted in the harsh sunlight. The squeal of pigs came from the slaughterhouse on the right. He shivered, despite the mild spring warmth of the September day.
“Shall we have a drink at the club?” Tristan replaced his hat as they headed left. 
“I don’t particularly care. I just want to be clear of that lot in there.”
“You think it could have turned ugly?”
“I’m sure of it. Too much money changed hands. Kent has pulled a fast one I think. He’s seen me fight before but that was a new crowd.” As if to justify his words, a shout came from behind them. When Nat turned and saw the dozen or so men spilling out of the barn, yelling fit to be tied, his guts squeezed dread. He turned to Tristan and had to smile at the shock on his face. “Well, friend, I hope you can run fast.” 

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The Naughty Billionaire’s Virgin Fiancée

A Shades of Naughty Story
by Cat Johnson
The best laid plans… 

Branson Welles doesn’t want a fiancée, but he better get one fast before his controlling grandfather yanks his trust fund out from under him. How convenient that recent college grad Jen needs money to pay her school loan just when Bran needs a girl to play the role of his new lady love. It’s the perfect plan, until the sexual attraction makes it impossible for them to keep it strictly business.

One night together leads to another and before he knows it, Bran doesn’t want to fake it any longer. Could the naughty billionaire playboy be ready to settle down, and with a virgin?

“You going to tell me what the old man did this time, or are we just going to drink our way through this one without discussing it?” Jon cocked a brow.

Bran let out a short, humorless laugh. He needed a nice stiff drink, which he’d have shortly. He needed a good fuck too, but that wasn’t on the immediate horizon, so he might as well vent as long as Jon had asked.

Glancing up, he saw the cocktail waitress on her way toward them. “Hang on until she’s gone, and then I’ll tell you.”

“Gentlemen.” The brunette bent at the waist and Bran got a nice view of the globes of her breasts showing above the buttons of the white shirt.

She lifted the first glass of amber liquid off the tray and handed it to him. She pivoted toward Jon, giving Bran a close-up view of the curves of her ass beneath the clingy black pants of her uniform.

He raised the glass to his lips and watched, amused, as Jon’s gaze dropped to her cleavage as she bent to serve him.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Jon asked.

“Yes, sir.” She bobbed her head in a nod.

“Well, it’s nice to have you aboard.” Jon shot her the smile that Bran had seen charm the panties off more than a few females, sometimes two at a time.

“Thank you.” She smiled in return, but it had a professional feel to it. That of a person who wanted to keep her new job.

A woman immune to Jon… Interesting.

Bran guessed she was young, not long out of college, but she was no girl. She had all the curves of a woman. She adhered to the club’s employee dress code, but with an extra button left undone, a heel to lift her ass a bit higher, and trousers that fit like a second skin, she managed to ensure the male patrons had something to look at, as well as guarantee herself a nice tip at the end of the day.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” Her blue eyes, so intense in color they appeared almost a violet-blue in this light, moved from one man to the other.

Oh, Bran needed something all right. To sweat out this foul mood of his. Since racquetball hadn’t done it, perhaps bending her over the arm of the chair and spanking that sweet ass before he fucked her would, but Granddaddy would most definitely frown upon that behavior. Besides, this girl didn’t look the type.

He nodded, dismissing her. As she turned and made her way back to the bar, Jon shook his head. “She did that on purpose.”

Bran lifted a brow. “Did what?”

“Bent over so I’d get an eyeful of tit.”

“Of course, she did. She works for tips.” Bran didn’t blame her one bit. She did what she had to do to survive, just as he did.

Truth be told, her way was a hell of a lot more palatable to him than what he’d been forced to endure from his family, all in the name of keeping his trust fund—the carrot his grandfather had dangled and then threatened to yank away for most of Bran’s life.

He swallowed another long swig of whisky. It scorched its way down his throat. Bran savored the burn. It was sure as hell preferable to being numb and feeling nothing, like his father. The man had become nothing more than a puppet to Bran’s grandfather. That’s what a life under this family’s thumb did. Bran wasn’t about to let that happen to him.

“Bran.” Jon saying his name brought Bran’s head up from where he’d been transfixed watching the liquid swirl in the glass.


A frown creased his friend’s forehead. “There’s no one in here but us, so talk.”

A houseboy moved passed them and added another log to the fire, but Bran knew what Jon meant. It was early in the day. The bar was empty of members, save for them. There was no one here who would overhear and report back to his grandfather.

Letting out a sigh, Bran said, “Granddaddy has decided I need to grow up.”

The furrows in Jon’s brow deepened. “You work full time administering the foundation. You sit on how many boards? Hell, you even bought yourself a damn sedan to drive instead of that hot new British two-seater I tried to talk you into. How much more grown up does he want you to be?”

“He wants me married and popping out new pawns for him to control.”

“Married?” The shocked expression on Jon’s face was enough to make Bran snort out a laugh. “You’re not even thirty yet.”

“Yes, I know. But Grandfather was married by thirty, so apparently I have to be, as well.”

“Have to be.” Jon’s eyes opened wider. “Shit, is that written into the terms of your trust fund?”

“No, he’s more subtle, and manipulative, than that. My trust is fully revocable at any time by his whim alone, up until my thirtieth birthday. What he did say was he strongly suggested I find a woman to settle down with because he, and I quote, ‘would hate to have to reevaluate the future of the family’s holdings’.”

“That’s crazy. I couldn’t live like that. What are you going to do?”

“Finish this drink and order another. Where’s the waitress?” Bran leaned forward in the chair and craned his neck to search for her. She wasn’t in the room. He fell back with a huff.

“Hey, that’s an idea…”

“What’s an idea? Remain so drunk I don’t notice I’m destitute when he yanks it all away from me?”

“No, my idea is a bit more fun than that, and you get to keep your money.”

“Do tell.”

“We’re rich. It’s about time we started acting like it.”

“I’m rich for now, until Granddaddy says otherwise. And what do you mean act like we’re rich?” Bran pointedly eyed the immediate surroundings. The oak paneled room. The polished sterling silver trophies on the mantle that surrounded a fireplace large enough a grown man could almost stand upright inside. The life-size John Singer Sergeant portrait of the exclusive club’s founder hanging above.

“I meant you can buy a drink, so why can’t you buy a fiancée?”

“Oh? Is there a new store in town I missed? Fiancées-R-Us?”

“No, smart ass, but I have an idea where you might be able to get one. Here she comes. Be quiet and let me do the talking.” Jon pulled his feet off the ottoman and planted them square on the floor.

“She who?” Bran frowned at his friend.

“Shh.” Jon leaned forward and raised one hand to signal the server.

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Romancing on Friday: Sexy Lit meets Sexy Food– Linda De Villers, PhD

Welcome Linda De Villiers, as she stops at my blog on her blog tour about sexy literature meet sexy food.
                          Sapphire Phelan

The delicious delights of a fabulous food, interwoven with the sensuality of flirtation and foreplay make for ecstatic pleasures long remembered! Great food and great sex both invite us to celebrate all of our senses...sights, sounds, smells, tastes and touch. 

Sometimes one sense or another is emphasized and others are overlooked. Despite living in an increasingly visual world, when it comes to sexy turn-ons, the preference for explicit visuals applies more to men than to women.  The huge popularity of Fifty Shades of Grey among women rests as testimony to that. The erotic appeal of that piece of “sexy lit” rests in its capacity to evoke sexy imagery through words on a page, or rather, on a black/white screen displaying nothing but words.

Despite the enormous appeal of “sexy lit,” it’s often overlooked player during a sexy meal designed to weave together fork play and foreplay. How can sexy lit meet sexy food? Let me count the ways! If you watched the Super Bowl, you may have caught the ad in which a woman suggestively invited her lover to read to her from Fifty Shades of Grey. The ad failed to offer a sexy context, say over a shared plate of aphrodisiac finger foods you can feed each other on a plush throw in front of a warm fireplace. (Think chocolate-covered strawberries and a glass of champagne).  And for many, plenty of other sexy lit holds far more erotic appeal than this past year’s craze, whether it’s the Song of Solomon or passages from Anais Nin.  You could, of course, read to each other.

Other ways to weave sexy lit into a leisurely, pleasure-focused  meal:  Consider recording your voice in advance reading your favorite erotic passage. Then surprise your lover by playing it as you share your meal in a sexy setting. Or maybe you’d be inspired to play an audio book of sexy lit that turns you on. You might even try something novel:  Listen to, but don’t watch, an erotically themed film with plenty of sexy dialogue, moans, and sighs!     

Linda De Viller, PhD, Clinical Sex Therapist and Foodie, shares her knowledge about the myths and truth about aphrodisiacs. She also share over 80 recipes and a wealth of love and sex tips. Get your copy at -

                                            Recipe Photo Contest:
There’s a recipe photo contest as part of the virtual tour. Details can be found at— .  The recipes are supplied, those entering just prepare the aphrodisiac food and submit a picture of the finished recipe—for the contest. The grand prize winner will get a one on one aphrodisiac consultation and five runner ups will receive a digital copy of Love Skills by Linda De Villers.  Contact with questions. We show the ingredients - now show us what you can do.

About Simple Sexy Food
Simple Sexy Food is an aphrodisiac cookbook like no other. Honest and direct, detailed and informative, it’s packed with exclusive recipes, food and sex tips, descriptions and histories of ingredients and even survey data about what food people find sexy. And it’s the only aphrodisiac cookbook written by a clinical sex therapist who also happens to be a foodie!

A Message From Linda De Villers PhD:
I created this book to help you enjoy the remarkable relationship between food and sex. These two themes run brightly through my own life both personally and professionally, and are inseparable from my sense of who I am. Having counseled and taught thousands of people on the loving arts, and having fed nearly as many in my kitchens over the years, I find myself in a state of barely contained excitement over the opportunity to share what I know with you. I am the only author in this field to be credentialed in both sexual health and food, having worked and presented internationally and conducted research on the joint topic over the course of my career.

About Linda DeVillers PhD:
Linda De Villers has more than 20 years of experience as a sex and relationship expert. Dr. De Villers is regarded as an expert in the study of aphrodisiacs. She was a featured expert in a Discovery Channel Health program (2006) on 10 sexual myths, including the myth that aphrodisiacs don’t exist. In an academic setting, she has researched and presented on related topics.

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New Release! STOP OR I'LL SPANK!

So excited about my new release STOP OR I'LL SPANK, the sequel to my hot sexy Bestselling suspense THE GIRL WHO CRIED WOLF! It picks up where that book left off, featuring no-nonsense cop Dylan Sinclair and his girlfriend Brynn Foster!

In this sequel to THE GIRL WHO CRIED WOLF, Brynn Foster decides to stick her nose into the murder case her boyfriend, San Francisco Police Inspector Dylan Sinclair is investigating.

Dylan shouldn’t be surprised. Brynn is always getting into trouble for doing things she shouldn’t. Whether it’s for inviting Dylan’s sister and her boyfriend over to dinner without telling him, or for painting the living room a color she knows he won’t like, she does what she wants, even if she ends up over his knee for a sound spanking.

But this investigation is more dangerous than redecorating their apartment. A man is dead, and if she isn’t careful, a spanking is going to be the least of her troubles.


By the time Kat and Reese left, Brynn was congratulating herself on how well the evening had gone. Not only were Dylan and his sister back on good terms, but the cold war between the two men was finally over. She didn’t know what had transpired while she and Kat had been in the kitchen getting dessert, and she didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, it was all good.

But when she closed the door behind the other couple and turned to face her boyfriend, Dylan was standing there with his arms folded across his broad chest and a scowl on his handsome face. He wasn’t seriously going to be mad at her for inviting Kat and Reese over, was he?

Brynn sighed. “I know what you’re going to say.”

He arched a brow. “Really?”

“Yes. You’re going to say I shouldn’t have invited Kat and Reese over for dinner without telling you first.”

“A little heads-up would have been nice.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” She sidled over to loop her arms around his neck. When he didn’t wrap his around her, she gave him a pout. “Honey, if I told you I wanted to invite them to dinner, you would have said no.”

“You’re right. I probably would have. But you still should have asked me.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and gave him a contrite look. “I said I was sorry.”

His green eyes deepened in color, becoming more emerald. “And I forgive you. But I’m still going to make sure you don’t pull a stunt like that again.”

Pull a stunt like that again? What was she, twelve? Brynn laughed. “And how exactly are you going to do that?”

His mouth quirked. “I’m going to spank you.”

Brynn’s eyes went wide. Was he for real?

She opened her mouth to ask, but Dylan had already sat down on the couch and was guiding her over his knee. She placed her hands on the carpeted floor to get her balance, but she needn’t have worried. Dylan’s strong hand on her back kept her from going anywhere, including pushing herself up from his lap.

She craned her neck to look over her shoulder at him. “Honey, seriously?”

“Seriously. A good spanking will make you think twice before you do something like this again.”

Brynn blinked. Dylan had spanked her a lot of times, but it had always been sexual. He’d never done it to punish her. That was completely different, and she wasn’t sure what she thought of it. Before she could protest, her boyfriend brought his hand down on her upturned ass with a resounding smack.

Buy it at Blushing Books!

Buy it at Amazon!


Sexy Romantic Fiction!

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