Monday, January 30, 2012

Take a Walk on the Wild Side with H.C. Brown's Lord & Master, M/M BDSM


Lord Reynold Wilton, fearing exposure after a public argument with his sex slave, Lord David Litchfield, leaves England for the Americas. On his return, he finds his delicious man in the hands of a brutal sadist. In a time when homosexuality is a hanging offense, Reynold must use every trick in the book to regain the possession and trust of his young lover.



London 1769

A rush of pain radiated from Lord Reynold's clenched teeth and into his temples. The burn from over exertion raged across his shoulders. His sweaty grip slipped on the leather handle of the cane, a narrow strip of birch he had commissioned especially for discipline. With lust, he gazed down at his slave, savoring the crisscrossed, red welts marking the porcelain flesh, the raised prints of his hand on each tender buttock. He bent over the slim figure tied so deliciously on the bench, and licked each crimson cut, using his mouth to soothe and caress. Reynold lapped, enjoying the taste of sweet skin, the rise of gooseflesh under his tongue. The man's scent of soap mingled with the warm aroma of male sex filled his nostrils.
With the man tied this way, stretched out with both arms and legs secured, Reynold had complete control. The power of dominance surged through him. In truth, he could easily draw blood with his cane if he chose to, yet he loved this man and gave his slave what he craved. This session had been different from those long nights of bliss they'd enjoyed so often before. He needed to conquer his slave, to take back his role as master in a relationship teetering on the brink of disaster. With slow, deliberate moves, he stalked around the bench, running the cane over the sub's quivering body. He stopped at the head of the young man. "Why do you question my loyalty? I will not tolerate such behavior." He grasped a lock of the man's long, blond curls. "Speak."
"I am jealous, Master."
Reynold brought the birch down in two swift cuts across the slave's pristine back. The prone man's cry sent blood rushing to his cock. Christ, he loved to hear his submissive moan. He threw down the cane. "Of whom are you jealous this time?"
"Lord John, Master." The slave drew a shuddering breath. "I don't want you to continue your friendship him."
"When you are tied to my bed, I am the master." Reynold met the man's cornflower blue gaze. "I will not tolerate such demands from my slave. If you continue in this manner, I will have no option but to take my leave." He ground his teeth. "I warn you, do not think to use my devotion as a weapon to manipulate me to your will. If needs be, I will take a commission abroad to be rid of you."
"Reynold . . . I beg you—think of my feelings."
"You would have me weak?" Reynold dropped his breeches. "I think not."
"No, Master, not weak—never weak." David's gaze fell on Reynold's shaft. "I do not care to share you with Lord John." He licked his lips. "When you are in his company, I fear I will lose you."
Reynold growled. "I regret now confiding my relationship with Lord John Henley to you before we became involved. The man is a dear friend but you are my lover. If you don't believe this to be true, the trust you claim to have in me does not exist." He sighed. "Perhaps it is you who wants to end our relationship."
"Christ, I would have no other touch me in this way, and you know this to be true." David poked out his tongue, and swiped it across the head of Reynold's cock. He moaned. "I beg your forgiveness."
"You have my forgiveness, but I cannot allow you to dictate which friends I have. You know I have no desire to fuck any of them. Arguing with me in public has already put us both under scrutiny. Christ, David we can't be seen together. The risk is too high. What reason would I have to be in your company?" Reynold stroked David's cheek. "If you cannot trust me, this time we have together—our relationship as master and slave, as lovers, will not survive." Reynold groaned. "I care for you deeply but I won't allow you to risk the hangman's noose because of youthful foolishness. I will not offer you another chance, do you understand?" Reynold tugged David's hair. "Do you?"
"Yes." David smiled. "Master, will you allow me to pleasure you? I crave the taste of your seed."
Palming his shaft, he guided it toward his slave's rosy lips. He sighed as the man's hot, wet mouth surrounded him with absolute bliss. He loved the way David's flushed cheeks pulled tight with every withdrawn thrust. Later, he would take the man's tight arse, and hear his intoxicating screams of delight. He could never have enough of his luscious young submissive. Reynold rolled his hips, his hands cradling David's, sweat soaked cheeks. Lord, this man knew how to take him to heaven. Tipping back his head, he plunged deeper, fucking the man's delightful throat.
This session with David had been brutal. Reynold wanted to stamp his authority over the young man. Of late, the possessive nature of his delicious sex-slave had become out of hand. David had grown too demanding. Reynold had no option but to take a stand. The submissive's teeth raked a path up his aching cock, the man's agile tongue flicking over the sensitive tip. Reynold bit back a groan and fell into the darkness of forbidden bliss. His slave's mouth became a whirlpool of ecstasy spinning him into an uncontrollable, shattering conclusion. Christ, David, for once, do as I say. Your jealousy is leading us down a path of damnation.

Chapter One
Three years later—London 1772

Lord Reynold Wilton opened his pocketbook and paid the tailor's account, grateful to be finally out of uniform. He met the gaze of Mr. Joseph Brown. The man had produced every inch of clothing he had worn since a boy. "Have everything else sent over to Spencer Street. There's a good man."
Donning the new hat he'd purchased from Locks in Bond Street, Lord Reynold pulled on his gloves and turned to look in the mirror. The new, delightfully comfortable, clothes fit well. Soft and fresh against his skin, the linen provided a welcome change from his stagnant, uniform shirt and stiff smalls. At last, after three despicable years, he resembled a gentleman again. The new clothes, ordered by letter some three months prior, had surprised him with their elegance. Mr. Brown had tailored each garment in the height of fashion, right down to the fine, lawn ruffles and silver buttons. White silk stockings and a cloak of the finest, black wool lined in silk completed his dress. He rubbed his chin and smiled ruefully at his reflection. The breeches stretched tight about his thighs and bottom, and Mr. Brown had pinched the jacket in at the waist to enhance the width of Reynold's shoulders. The cravat lay in exquisite folds. Dressed as such, in blue velvet, with his hair tied in a neat queue, he knew how men of his predilection would react to his appearance. Christ, I look like a peacock. In truth, his body had changed from soft to hard and muscular, but a commission in the Americas did that to a man. His face had altered too, but not in a bad way. He had not suffered any serious injury during his time abroad, but the man with haunting eyes in his reflection had replaced the innocent expression of youth.
Although, relieved by the sale of his commission and consequent arrival in England, his thoughts were not on returning immediately to his country estate in Surrey. Rather, he had spent the last two days in his townhouse close to Hyde Park, not wanting to endure the immediate duties of lord of the manor.
Lord Reynold stepped from the shop and glanced down Oxford Street. Nothing of note had changed in London during his time abroad with exception of women's fashion and the volume of carriages barreling along the dusty roads. He drew a deep breath to enjoy the scents of normality after enduring an eternity of stinking jacks and sweat. The smell of gunpowder and the unforgettable stench of a military camp had combined with horrors a man could never forget.
For three long years, Reynold had remained abroad. Christ, he had little choice. His role as master had become impossible after another very-public argument with David had threatened to expose them both. To avoid the scandalmongers and the chance of prosecution for the act of sodomy, he made the heart-wrenching decision to leave his lover.
Reynold stood for a few seconds to enjoy his surroundings. There had been a meager amount of birds brave enough to negotiate the noisy camps, and his heart lifted to see an abundance of sparrows feasting on a discarded crust of bread on the footpath. Above a blue sky peeked briefly through a profusion of white fluffy clouds. A stream of sunlight bathed a rose bush sitting in a large, yellow glazed pot beside the milliners next door. The rich perfume from the red blooms mixed with the pungent odor of horse dung squashed on the road. The hay infused clumps thrown in all directions by the constant stream of carriage wheels. Everything is so normal, as if no one knows a war of great proportions is looming.
Moving toward the curb, Reynold called out to his driver to take him to Charters, a gentlemen's club in Vauxhall, and climbed into the carriage. He sighed, rested his head on the back of the seat, and closed his eyes. A familiar memory flooded his consciousness. The vision of a young man, exceptionally featured, with a soft gaze the color of a summer sky, hooded with long, tawny lashes. He groaned, recalling his sweet slave's sated expression from hours of glorious sex. The young body so deliciously secured his skin damp and flushed from his master's cane. David.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Guest Author- Kelly Lee

Greetings HC Brown!!

I'm thrilled and honored to be visiting today. And let me just say congratulations on your 2011 CAPA nomination! You make us all so proud….

HC- Thank you, I am delighted to be nominated :-)

 I wish I could say I am one of those authors whose been writing since childhood, but I'm not. Writing a book was a bucket-list type of thing for me, and when I got started, woo-boy, let's just say the experience sank its claws into me and I hope it never lets go.

On the flip side, I've always loved reading. When I was a kid, I'd go down to the local "five and dime"—yes, they still had those, and no, I'm NOT that old—and hunt through the book rack for Trixie Belden mysteries. I still have a couple dozen of those old books, and can't wait until my children are old enough to enjoy them. As I grew into my teenage years, I'd sneak my mom's Sidney Sheldon novels and read them surreptitiously under the covers with a flashlight. Windmills of the Gods and Master of the Game were deeply life changing. Okay, maybe not, but they certainly got my blood pumping for the first time while reading a book, and THEN I was forever changed.

Many years later, I had another life changing event. I backpacked through Europe for three weeks visiting Paris, Switzerland, Bulgaria, Rome, Florence, and Athens. I became a Greek mythology junkie. Ares and Aphrodite, Apollo and Daphne, Eros and Psyche…. They invaded my thoughts at odd times of day and night, and I began to formulate stories about them using the original myths as starting points, eventually morphing them into plotlines for contemporary Urban Fantasy. Eventually, those musings coalesced into the very humble beginnings of the Four Realms series.

The first book, MURDERING EVE, was released a few scant months ago, and I'm beyond excited. I've completed the second book in the series, entitled BATTLE HEAT, and I've just begun writing the third – working titled DEFIANCE. It's fascinating to watch characters grow and evolve, while some fade into the background and new ones come to the forefront. Most days, they surprise even me.

Because I know many of your readers enjoy erotic romance, I hand selected one of the steamier scenes from Murdering Eve, just to give you all a taste. J


Their lips pressed together gently once, twice, and then she felt him pull back. She tugged a little harder, but he was immovable, his self-control ever-present, even though he'd claimed to have none left.

She snaked her tongue over to his, coaxing, and she felt a tremor of anticipation when his breath sucked in sharply at the delicate mingling. In a moment of suspended animation, Eve held her breath, as frozen in place as Whit was. She stared into his eyes, and saw the first crack of his resolve, like fissures erupting in a dam right before an explosion of water breaks through. Arching her back so her breasts brushed against his chest, she closed her lips on his tongue and gently sucked, eliciting a roar from deep in his throat that set fire racing through her veins.

The next few seconds were a blur. One minute he was poised over her, his body taut and coiled like a snake ready to strike; the next he was on top of her, flattening her back into the bed of leaves that comprised the floor of her shelter. He supported most of his massive weight by his arms, but there was so much of him. The heaviness of his muscular upper body wasn't smothering, it was comforting, and she wanted more. The harder he pressed into her, the harder she wanted it, thinking a hairsbreadth of empty space between their bodies was too much.

Eve craved his bare skin against hers, but she couldn't tear her fingers out of his hair to rip away the offensive clothing. Even if she could, her brain had shut down all cognitive thought. She knew he only had two hands; one of them gently cupped the back of her head protectively, and the other grasped her waist. But like the night before, standing in the cabin, she felt his hands everywhere at once. Fingers of air dragged up the back of her legs, and the flat palm of an invisible hand against her belly moved lower, throwing Eve's mind into a frenzy of lust.

Whit's real hand shifted to her thigh, and reality snapped back into focus with intricate clarity. His upper body covered hers, his legs stretched alongside hers. She was wound up so tightly, her knees had locked together. He whispered seductively in her ear. "Open for me, Eve. Spread your legs."

Eve felt her insides liquefy in response to the intimate words. He inched his knee in between hers, and the top of his thigh rubbed against her core, making her want to shout in ecstasy. She wriggled against it, loving the pressure of his thigh.

Simultaneously moving her hands to his shoulders for leverage, she hooked one ankle around his leg and scooted her body further under him, freeing the opposite leg to wind around his waist. She groaned with pleasure at the warmth of his groin pressing against hers. His lips moved to hers again, but gently, taking his time. She struggled against his languor, tempting him to more rigorous foreplay by tilting her pelvis up into him. The distinct outline of his erection pressed against her jeans.

Whit was having none of that. Taking advantage of his superior position, he smashed his lower body against hers, pinning her hips perfectly still. He lifted up, holding his body off hers with one arm. The look on his face was rapturous, but controlled. His free hand traced the lines of her face. When he ran his finger across her lips, Eve impatiently nipped at it, grazing it with her teeth. He swooped down and feasted at her mouth, leaving her breathless.
"Be still. Let me look at you," he said. "Close your eyes."
She did—and she could still see him. Well, not really him, but the waves of energy spinning off him. His energy pulsed and shifted with his movements and thoughts, and Eve could see them all. As his fingers traced the line of her collarbone, she felt his gaze roving over her breasts, to the center of her heaving chest, and down her belly. The soothing caress felt like swirls of cool wind through her clothes. Her nipples hardened in response as she felt his gaze return to her breasts.

The sensations were unbearable, until the warmth of his hand cupped her breast. He ran his thumb over the tight peak. Eve reached up to his nape to drag him back down to her and he complied, but with a delightful detour. He roughly pulled her shirt to the side, and the heat of his mouth blanketed her nipple through the lace of her bra.

With a wantonness that surprised her, she hiked her legs up over his waist and crossed her ankles, grinding into him so hard it hurt. The pain was bliss, and so were his teeth gently pulling at her nipple.

He repositioned, spreading his thighs to support his weight better. He moved his hands to her hips, gripping her tightly. If they had been naked, there would be no doubt he was readying himself to thrust his way in, but their clothing prevented an immediate joining. The jeans needed to come off, right freaking now. She was about to tell him so, but as her mouth started to form the words, she opened her eyes and was struck speechless in amazement.

Trees bent sideways with the howling force of a wind she didn't feel, other than the soft whispers of breeze from Whit's gaze. A white mist floated around them. She knew instinctively the fog was their combined power, and she reveled in it, riding the wave of pleasure from Whit's tongue as he worked his magic on her body. He had moved to the other breast and had edged the lace to the side, alternately laving and sucking as if she were candy. His hot, wet tongue on her bare skin felt erotic and addicting, and her hips strained against the hardness of his body. She astonished herself by actually purring in response, feeling his lips curve into a smile on her skin.

Her gaze drifted to the treetops as she surrendered herself to the passion of the moment. Then she stilled. Uncomprehending, she blinked at what moved toward them. Fear shot through her body, ice-cold and deadly. Eve's body stiffened in horror, and Whit lifted his mouth from her breast.

His voice was a guttural moan. "What's wrong?"

Thanks so much for having me, HC!  It was a pleasure to be here!

MURDERING EVE won the 2011 Readers Favorite Award in the Romance / Fantasy-Sci Fi category. Best of all, it's available for download for only $1.99!  How can you beat that?

Buy links:

Visit to read what folks are saying about Murdering Eve, follow her on Facebook at, or Twitter: @kellyleefiction

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

H.C Welcomes Lesbians vs Zombies

Lesbians vs Zombies: The Musical Revue was conceived within the twistedly
brilliant mind of multi-published author Amber Green.

Amber, after an evening of something she still refuses to talk about - rumor
has it pirates with torn clothing atop picnic tables smothered in candy
hearts and watermelons were involved . . . and maybe some rope - decided she
should gather a gaggle of authors who may or may not know each other and
write novellas containing lesbians, zombies, music, and colleges. The
literary gods Jose and Cuervo then fell silent, leaving said authors to use
their imaginations and/or any available firemen for inspiration.

The end result is a litany of tales as different as Amber's stockings.

Somehow, Amber convinced Noble Romance Publishing (between us, I heard that
a Belize cabana boy and two sea sprites were involved in the negotiations)
to back the project, and Lesbians vs Zombies: The Musical Revue was born. Or
hatched, depending on one's perspective of whatever that thing in the
watermelon was.

By the way, HC didn't write this. She's far too civilized to stoop to such
low posture . . . without velvet restraints and a picture of Hugh Jackman
taped to my face.

 HC. LOL Now a little more about this exciting venture from the irrepressible David Kentner AKA KevaD 

When Amber Green invited me to participate in Lesbians vs Zombies: The
Musical Revue, I had no idea what to write. Aside from the fact Amber
scares the crap out of me, I’d never written a story about zombies or
lesbians. However, I did survive the sixties – 1960s that is – with a
few brain cells still intact, though on occasion my wife has been
known to challenge that belief.

The sixties produced flower power and some really radical music for
the time. Free love produced flower children. FM radio was a new
concept, “head shops” where suburban hippie wannabes could buy
tie-dyed clothing, love beads, and incense prospered, and no party was
complete without Boone’s Farm wine and a bag of Columbian buds. Add a
basement floor covered in pillows, a few black lights and posters,
Hendrix growling “Foxy Lady” on a stereo, a few jars of body paint,
and the evening gathering quickly became an all-nighter. Usually at
some point somebody stoned out of their gourd would slither into a
diatribe of how we were changing the world, making it a better place
for the children. Those of us still conscious would all mutter “far
out” and nod our heads while trying not to burn our fingers on the
joint as it passed by.

Surviving brain cell M2G7 connected with H98X to rekindle a memory of
a young lady who wore flannel shirts and bell-bottomed jeans, and
stuck dandelions in children’s hair when we hung out at the park. I
sprinkled that vision with a dash of mythology, and my comedic drama
“The Zombie with Flowers in Her Hair” was born.


The hardest part of being alone is realizing you are.

1969 was a busy year for the young woman nicknamed Isis. She graduated
high school, engaged in a lesbian relationship, died, and rose from
the dead as a pot-smoking, flesh-eating zombie in need of a good
orgasm. Yet, in death she ended up as alone as she had in life. But
when a beautiful zombie with flowers in her hair forgets her sweet
butt on a toilet seat, Isis's undead life will never be the same. Nor
will it be one she could ever have envisioned, even on the wildest
acid trip. Because for Isis, her true reason for life lies in her

David Kentner

Buy link

Amber Green:

You're funny, Dave. Everyone, he wrote his story long before I
unwrapped the sword-length Khyber Knife I got for Christmas. He just
likes hiding under the sink, is all.

What he hasn't said about The Zombie With Flowers in Her Hair is that
the story needs at least one beverage alert per page. Seriously. The
heroine is terminally horny (literally), has a taste for road
kill--especially skunk, with that tangy au jus in the scent
glands--and has a horror of scrotum-dwelling scorpions. Yes, yes, she
also has a lesson to learn and a love to accept or reject. But this
is no solemn march to the altar. This sketch launches the Musical
Revue with the kind of screwball comedy only our beloved under-sink
troll could craft.

On January 23, the curtain will rise on the next sketch in the lineup:
"Dead Kitties Don’t Purr." It’s a tender story of first love, and of
a girl finding her tribe among college students trapped by the
government’s draconian efforts to contain a devastating new plague.


People who take their shots and do as they’re told have nothing to
fear, right? The Rabies Z epidemic began and ended in Miami this past
summer, didn’t it?

And that guy my daddy saw at the Jacksonville airport last week was
just having an epileptic seizure. No cause for alarm. Epilepsy always
causes an eighteen-hour hazmat shutdown at a major airport. Right?

So while my twin tours to flog her newest album, here I am, Camie
Invisible, parked at this nice, safe college–as far from the infection
as I can get and still pay in-state tuition. Only now my studies have
become focused on the fascinating Risa Ruiz. And she has eyes for me.
Isn’t this the perfect time for the z-things to show up?
WE HAVE T-Shirts to give away :-)
Want to find out more? Visit the Lesbians vs Zombies blog

Friday, January 13, 2012

Tryst of Fate Book Trailer and Give Away.


After inheriting a Georgian house in Barkley Square London, Colt
Samuel, millionaire art dealer, finds himself obsessed by the portrait
of the home's former owner, Lord Alexander Swift.
During a chat with author, Jake Daniels, Colt discovers Lord Swift
and his unnamed cousin had mysteriously disappeared from the
cellar one evening, following Alexander's illicit affair with David
Fitzhugh. Jake reveals Fitzhugh bears a remarkable resemblance
to Colt.
Colt decides to investigate Alexander's strange disappearance, and
ventures into his cellar late one night to look for a secret
passageway. When his torch fails, Colt finds himself transported
back to 1775, and comes face to face with the man of his dreams,
Lord Alexander Swift.

Due for release 25 February.
Pre Order Now:

Buy link

Send me  the pre- release order number and your email address and I'll send you an autographed book cover for your e-reader.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Dark Divas Review 4.5 Divas for Hawke's Purr-fect Mate

Hawke’s Purr-fect Mate by H.C. Brown

Hawke’s Purr-fect Mate by H C Brown
Publisher: Noble Romance Publishing
Genre: Erotic, Menage, Paranormal, M/M, GLBT
Length: 89 pages's-Purr-fect-Mate
Deliciously handsome, insatiable, alpha male Hawke of Knight Watch has a reputation for having a voracious and varied sex life. However, his ability to attract streams of men and women to his bed comes into question when he meets the mysterious Ice Princess, Lydia.
Lydia, born of both Fae and Pride, has a secret. Unable to chance the man of her dreams discovering the truth about her, she publicly refuses the handsome Prince Hawke.
Disillusioned and heart sore, Hawke must fight the battle of his life against the dogs invading his realm, and for the love of his true mate.
Dakota’s Review:
Ms. Brown has definitely penned a wonderful tale. I was happy to return to this series after reading Savage Lust. This author has done a phenomenal job of creating characters that every time I pick up one of her books it feels like I’m coming home to a family reunion, even it if is a rather strange family. In this newest book, Hawke’s Purr-fect Mate, we delve more into the life of Hawk, who is the prince of his pride and like most cats he’s not ready to settle down with just one mate. His relationship with Nox is one he doesn’t want to give up, especially for an Ice Princess who has denied his claim and in the process has infuriated him beyond belief. (Not a wise idea on Lydia’s part. Evidently she doesn’t realize how determined it will make him to actually claim her.)  I loved Hawke’s chase of his mate. :D
As usual the character development in this book is excellent.  The backstory was enough to make me feel like I was catching up with the previous character’s lives. I was drawn into the familiar world of the Pride Brothers series and as usual I didn’t want to leave. I will say one thing, be sure to have your hanky ready because, Ms. Brown has created another tear jerker with Lydia’s and Hawke’s story. I related on so many levels with Lydia that I felt like she could’ve been my sister. I won’t give away Ms. Brown’s plot line here but I will say that every tear she did draw out of me was well worth it by the end of the tale. If you’re looking for a frisky shifter book, with alpha’s galore, magical worlds and stubborn mates, Hawke’s Purr-fect Mate is definitely a must read!
Rated 4 1/2 Delightful Divas by Dakota!

Monday, January 2, 2012

5 Kisses Review for Time to Live from Two Lips Reviews

Timeless Desire: Time to Live by H.C. BrownPDFPrintE-mail
Written by Tina   
Wednesday, 28 December 2011

Book Image
Title: Time to Live
Author: H.C. Brown
Publisher: Noble Romance Publishing, LLC.
Genre: BDSM
Publication date: December 1, 2011
ISBN: 1-605924-41-0
Pages: 35
Series: Timeless Desire 
Reviewer: Tina

Heat Level:

Seth Bannock is stunned that his best friend of the past six months has given him the finger and closed the door in his face. Well, this happened after he rejected her kiss. He'd just thought of her as a friend; he’s never liked girls at all…does this mean he is gay? 
Rio Knight is watching a man in front of Floggers BDSM club. He knows the man is a born sub. When Seth asks to confide in him, Rio is more than interested but he already has a sub. So he listens to Seth and brings Seth to a Dom who is perfect for him.  
Matt Duffey is a Dom looking for a sweet untouched sub to train. Seth and Matt both have past issues to overcome; can they find trust before they lose each other for good? 
Time to Live by H.C. Brown is one of the titles in the Timeless Desire series and has Seth, who’s just discovered he’s gay, going to a BDSM club for sexual advice. At first, the concept seemed like a reach to me, but the story convinced me it works.  
Matt is a strong but gentle Dom, the perfect Dom for a sub like Seth, who’s not really been in the lifestyle and doesn’t completely understand what not to do. Together these two find something everyone is looking for…the love of a lifetime.