Posts Tagged ‘Romance’

romance novels author madison lake


Suddenly Peter slid up closely beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. She turned to him with a smile, thinking he was being sincerely sensitive to her situation, when he leaned in and placed his full lips on hers. She tried to pull away but he held her face in his hands and kissed her more intensely, his mouth melting into hers. Without realizing it, Joanie found herself giving in. She leaned into his palms, then into his body, hungry for this feeling that for so many years she had wondered about. Now she knew, and it felt wonderful. Their kisses became more passionate, wet and welcoming. But the more she relaxed and returned Peter’s advances, the more ravenous he became. With unnecessary harshness he pulled her toward him, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. At first his forwardness seemed to turn her on, but very quickly she became aware of an intensity she was not comfortable with. * From More Than Just Friends


Without a break, another song started. It was soft and sensual, an R&B piece, not the usual raunchy songs most of the strippers played. First he only saw a leg, long and lanky, move gracefully to the music. The dancer was in shadow at the very back of the stage. Whoever was attached to that leg had to be gorgeous, Liam thought. He wasn’t familiar with this piece or with this dancer. The leg was stockinged in black fishnets and on her foot was a very sexy, strappy heel with metallic rhinestones that caught the light when her foot moved. Her ankles were slim, and her leg seemed to go on forever. Liam wasn’t sure if the dancer was sitting on a stool while producing this tantalizing leg of hers, or whether she was standing up, but the lighting kept the rest of her body, which appeared to be dressed in black, well hidden. The audience could not see her even if they tried. Liam was riveted. * From Salon Antics


In the dream, the forest was shimmering, as if it were filled with fireflies. Each step he took upon the mossy ground ignited into a blaze of neon. Fairies and wood elves darted from log to log, branch to branch, in merry chase. Music played, women sang and danced, half naked in blissful abandon. There was one woman who stood out from the rest. Her auburn curls fell in layers, covering her body until they nearly touched the ground. But Henley could see her bronze, perfectly round breasts peek out from behind the curtain of hair, see a hint of knee, of delicious inner thigh, and two slender ankles. She smiled at him, then without warning, swept away the thick luxurious strands, revealing a body so provocative, so full and smooth and intoxicating, that it did more than take Henley’s breath away. It made him moan aloud in ecstasy. Rosetta dug her deft fingers deeper into his muscular shoulders and smiled. * From A Cloud of Hawthorne


“What’s a matter, lil birdy, am I scarin you?” He laughed and laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischievous desire. “Now, you must tell me where it ‘urts, lil bird. That’s your job. My job is to feel ‘round to find where you ‘urts. We got that now, birdy?” Proberta was quaking with fear but had no choice but do what this big man told her to do. Soon his large chafed hands were scratching against her soft skin. He rubbed and prodded and, she felt, looked in places he shouldn’t have looked. Finally, when he seemed to be finished with her he stood. Like a giant, his tall solid build seemed to match those of the highest standing trees in the forest. The question was, was he a friendly giant or an evil one? * From Where Daffodils Grow Wild


The familiarity of each other’s scent encompassed them. As if by rote, Lavinia followed Oliver’s exploring tongue with hers. Shivers ran up and down her spine. Excitement rose as the kisses became deeper and more sensual. Without being aware, Lavinia pressed herself against Oliver, her breasts reaching out for his touch. His fingers slipped down the front of her corseted frock until they reached the plump fullness of her desire. Although not large, her breasts were firm and round, her nipples hard with longing. He could feel the pulsating in his groin and knew if they kept on like this there would be no turning back. Oliver squeezed and then buried his face in her ripe bosom, inhaling her goodness before letting her go. * From Willow Wisp


“I don’t even know why I’m here,” Babette screamed after him. He laughed and walked away, lighting a cigarette as he went. Babette ran after him but he grabbed her and put her in a quick choke-hold. “Listen darling, you’re too pretty for me to rough up so why don’t you just play by the rules. I’m on payroll right now. You don’t want to mess with me, trust me on that.” Babette squirmed in an effort to release herself, but to no avail. “Easy now, honey. Settle down.” The goon let his stranglehold go but spun her around to face him, holding her close. “Like I said, you don’t want to mess with me, got it?” Babette looked at the man’s face. His blue eyes shone a certain gentleness, even an honesty that surprised her. He smiled a crooked sort of smile that was seductively sweet. * From a story in Boudoir Stories


Now…don’t all these teasers want to make you buy the books? They should. How can you just sit there and be left hanging? Madison Lake books make excellent stocking stuffers and gifts for book lovers in your life. Go ahead. Buy one. Buy six! On

Merry Merry from all of us here at Madison Lake dot com!


Titillating Tuesday

Posted on: November 8th, 2016 by Madison Lake No Comments

Excerpt from the new anthology SkinOnSkin, available on Amazon. This is one of my submissions/additions to the anthology. I will post the work of other poets over the course of time. 



Fingers slide over

the strand

that adorns her collarbone,

pearl one, pearl two,

a rosary prayer. She doesn’t believe,

yet knows what to do. His snores

reverberate the hollow

room, the un-slept side

of the conjugal bed

bereft of desire. Her desire 

whispers under lace,

under garment, under

downy fur

fingered through

quickened breath. His slumber

stifles her cries;

agonized joy

released to a void

devoid of love. Her eyes

close around a tangle of dreams.


Please visit Amazon to find SkinOnSkin. It’s an amazing representation of erotic poetry from poets around the world. A must for your collection.


Titillating Tuesday

Posted on: October 18th, 2016 by Madison Lake 1 Comment

Here is an excerpt from a new book I’ve started but am not sure whether it’s going to be my ‘next book’ or not. Read this snippet and let me know if it makes you want to read more, if it’s long enough, if you like where it’s going, if you are not interested in this time in history, if you hate it — whatever you want to say.


Quincy Jones had a problem. He had a soft spot when it came to women and like many men during the early days of the gold rush, he also had a hankering to gamble. The fact that he loved women — I mean, really loved them — wasn’t in itself the problem. The problem was that whenever he got himself into trouble it seemed there was a woman involved. At the moment, Quincy was hard up on cash, so when he rode into Laramie County, in the Wyoming Territory, one sunless spring day, looking to let off a little steam and earn a few bucks, he found himself staring straight into the face of misery. Misery, by the name of Dwight C. Harvey Jr., the town sheriff.

“Dammit, Jones,” the sheriff snapped as Quincy entered the saloon. “Ya got some nerve showing your sorry ass around these parts after that last fiasco.”

Quincy fidgeted with the handle of his Colt revolving pistol, shimmied up his holster (and pants). He spat to his right, not taking his eyes off the sheriff, then he politely kicked dirt over the pool of brown tobacco juice at his feet.

“Well, Mister Harvey, it’s a pleasure to see you too.” Quincy slapped a grimy hand on the back of the sheriff’s leather vest. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find the card table so’s I can spend my winnings on the sweet cherub, Bessie May. I know she’s been waiting on me. She likes the way I go down on her.”

Quincy winked and handed out one of those toothy grins that flashed his shiny gold capped incisor. He pushed past Dwight C. Harvey, leaving the sheriff in a frustrated swirl of dust, as usual. 


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How To Spice Up Your Love Life

Posted on: September 27th, 2016 by Madison Lake No Comments


Okay, I admit I’ve been single for a while, so how can I know anything about spicing up anyone’s love life? Hopefully we learn things in times of absence or loss. Being single is a really great way to get to know yourself and others, especially before getting involved with one person again. Here’s what I think I’ve learned about how to spice up your love life:

  1. Communicate
  2. Keep your female or male friends. Don’t give it all up for one person. You will be your most confident, happy self that way and that is sexy and appealing
  3. Listen to your partner. Avoid getting trapped into the day-to-day stuff.
  4. If you have kids, get a babysitter often enough to allow yourselves adult time. You’ll love it and your kids will love it too.
  5. Have a positive outlook. If you are happy your partner will be happy too.
  6. Enjoy sex. If this is a problem area, don’t give up. Talk through it. Work through it. Experiment and be open to changing things up. Besides the loving factor, sex should be fun and adventurous.
  7. Love. A lot


Special is good. Here are some ideas for date nights or having quality times with your partner.

  1. Create a romantic evening at home – candlelit dinner, soft music so you can still talk (ramp it up if you want to dance!). Enjoy good food and wine that should all most definitely lead to what’s to come.
  2. Dinner and a movie out. Sometimes simple is best and coming home is better.
  3. Have a massage night for both of you. Set the stage with candles, massage oils, alluring music, heating pads, feathers, ice…
  4. Leave messages around the house. Depending on your situation, these messages can be as romantic or seductive as you want.
  5. Buy or make your partner something just for them once in a while. Surprises are a wonderful thing.
  6. Love. A lot.

That’s all for this week, but this is definitely a conversation to continue. We welcome your comments and additions – your spicy pointers to add to this list. Feedback and new ideas are always a good thing.



Pure Pleasure

In the dark, she reached for his hair, soft and short in her fingers. His face was hidden, lit from the street by dimly illuminated curtains, his shoulders loomed broadly over her, supported by lean arms that gripped the sheets beneath her. Sometimes he moved to her head, or her back, or her hips, to pull her fiercely against him.

She didn’t need to see his face. She knew that he gazed intently at her, as he moved his hips into her, then out and back again. She moaned and threw her pillow in one swooping motion, from behind her head, onto the floor.

He was an enthusiastic lover, and in fact, the term lover was more appropriate than she ever could have dreamed. He loved. He loved everything about her, and this was something that she was coming to realize, slowly. Sloooowly. Concealed within the dark room, within her enveloping bed, her thoughts occasionally strayed from his body and what he was doing to her, or with her, to a wonderment, an amazement. ‘So this is what making love is’, she thought. Quite different from having sex, even great sex.

He was enthusiastic, yes, and came equipped with the endurance of an athlete trained to paddle for many miles, to race bikes, to swim. He had mind-over-body stamina, older, more experienced, not the wam-bam of youth followed by the deepest of sleeps.

Not this man.

And they laughed. She laughed as hard as she’d ever laughed. As hard as the top five memorable laughs of her life.

One sunny afternoon, they’d stretched out in a room full of books, on a bed next to windows that looked out over sky and trees. Squirrels, butterflies and wind, the sun danced in warm air.

She suggested a game. She wasn’t sure, she said, that she knew where her g-spot was, if she had one in fact. They looked online for information as to where this mysterious spot might be, and he laughed when they found the best information on Men’s Health, in an article titled, “How to Find your Girl’s G-spot.” He noted the use of the term “girl.”

Two inches in and on the top side closer to the belly button, palm up, curious fingers curled, exploring. That’s the spot, the article said, that sometimes makes a woman feel like peeing. Or wait, maybe not there. Maybe farther in, just about where that rough patch is. He patiently, she thoughtfully. Until she was so filled with mirth at the humor of it all that laughter exploded in great gales. Swells of laughter that wouldn’t stop, and he with her, laughing.

Perhaps a man’s partner might not have one at all. It wasn’t something that had been defined and documented. It was too ethereal. Perhaps it was all something like an urban myth. A rumor that certainly demanded some serious (since he was a scientist) scientific and methodical investigation. A taking of notes.

Finally she admitted, breathless between laughter, that she’d known all along where it was. Well, at least she thought she knew where it was but wasn’t quite sure and maybe could use some more exploring. He, looking directly into her eyes, she gazing back, gasping, unabashed at the frank and honest pleasure that passed between them.

And with that, they watched the sun set gently behind trees until nothing was left of the day, nothing left but the night stretching before them.

‘Is this what it feels like to be in love?’ she asked herself. She rolled the word around on her tongue. She’d asked a friend, “How do you know when you’re in love?” The friend answered, “If you ask the question, then you probably are.”

She thought about how she’d felt when he’d returned from a five-day trip to the east coast, how something had changed when he walked into her kitchen. She’d always been more of a pragmatist, a little cynical, more than a little short on romance.

Now she wrapped her arms around this very sweet man, a man who missed her, who couldn’t wait to see her, had rushed over as soon as he could, had pressed he mouth to hers and held her like he never wanted to let go. With more than a little disbelief, she relented. Yes, this was a possibility.

About the author: Daphne Devina is an essayist and artist with an irrepressible curiosity about life, adventure, and especially men. Join her as she explores a new world of irresponsibility after many years of juggling career, kids and marriage. Can she finally “have it all?” Can she reawaken passion in a body long dormant?

  • This is the third and last installment in a series written for Madison Lake Pages. Read here Part 1 and Part 2.