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Tag: Curves

Curve Appeal: New Release from Lucy Felthouse

Today I’m delighted to feature a #newrelease from epic #erotica writer and friend, Lucy Felthouse.

Curve Appeal, a standalone contemporary reverse harem/why choose romance! (@cw1985) #reverseharem #whychoose #rh #rhromance #eroticromance #bbw #curvyheroine #rubenesque

Blurb:

An exciting opportunity could solve all Brianna’s problems. But will it ultimately create more?

Brianna Denton is a primary school teacher at the end of her tether. Budget cuts, changes in legislation and a pandemic have left her feeling like walking away from the only career she’s ever wanted. The trouble is, if she did quit, what would she do next? Living in London is expensive, and keeping on top of her rent and bills while retraining would be nigh-on impossible. An offer to move in with her best friend, Joel Harris, is appreciated, but feels way too much like charity for her liking.

But then Joel throws her a curveball. On a complete whim, he’s bought a fixer-upper cottage on a remote Scottish island. He wants to transform it into an uber-luxury holiday home and rent it out. To do that, however, he needs a skilled, reliable workforce and a project manager to keep things running smoothly. A visit to the island in question provides as many questions as answers, but one thing becomes clear – Brianna is the perfect woman for the job. She’s smart, organised, works well under duress, and if she can handle a classroom full of young children, surely a bunch of skilled tradesmen won’t be a problem. Working and living in such a stunning setting is a massive plus point, too.

Brianna takes a leap of faith, leaving her home and beloved career behind to help turn Joel’s dream into a reality. It’s a steep learning curve, but Brianna is definitely up for the challenge. But when working relationships develop into something more, will it bring the entire project crashing down around her ears, or is it simply the beginning of a whole new life?

Available from (will be in Kindle Unlimited for 90 days, then be released on all other retailers): https://books2read.com/curveappeal

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/134717777-curve-appeal

Add to BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/curve-appeal-by-lucy-felthouse

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Brianna smiled as she caught sight of Joel, already waiting for her outside the pub. His job as a high-flying London City banker meant he put in some insane hours at work, but he ensured he was always available and on time for their last-Friday-of-the-month meet up at their favourite Thames-side establishment. Not only was it a lovely place, but the location was perfect for them both—it was just far away enough from Joel’s work it was unlikely he’d bump into any colleagues, and close enough to the primary school Brianna taught in that she could tie up any loose ends and scurry the short distance to meet her friend in no time at all. Today she’d had quite a few loose ends, which always seemed to be the way lately, and was a few minutes later than she’d planned, so was scurrying more quickly than usual, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer than necessary.

He hadn’t spotted her yet—he was leaning against the wall, one expensively-shod foot propped up on the bricks behind him, his head tilted up to the early spring sunshine, which even this late in the day was surprisingly strong and picked up the few lighter strands in his dark hair. He’d removed his tie—knowing him, the moment he set foot outside his office building—the end of which poked from the pocket of his black trousers, and rolled up the cuffs of his subtly-patterned shirt to expose most of his forearms. The look was casual, relaxed. Handsome.

In a parallel universe, she and Joel might be a couple, off travelling the world together, or perhaps married and getting ready to settle down and have a couple of kids. Maybe they’d have started early and had the kids already. And a dog.

In this universe, however, they were best friends—had been since their first day of senior school at the tender age of eleven. And while Brianna thought Joel handsome, it was in an impartial, stating a fact way. She wasn’t attracted to him, and it wouldn’t have made a difference if she was, because in this universe, Joel was as gay as they came—a fact she hadn’t realised she’d already known, until at eighteen he’d sat her down, his expression serious, and said he had something to tell her.

Her heart had pounded, and a sick feeling had taken over her stomach. Thoughts started racing through her head—was one of his parents ill? Was he ill? Was he moving away? Unable to cope with the internal onslaught of negativity any longer, she’d said, “For Christ’s sake, Joel, spill the beans, would you? You’re freaking me the fuck out.”

His seriousness had morphed briefly to annoyance, then resignation. He’d taken in and released a deep breath, then, “Bree, I wanted you to be the first to know… I’m gay.”

A sound somewhere between a squeak and a giggle had escaped her lips before she could stop it. She’d clapped her hand over her mouth for a second, then removed it and burst out with “Oh, you idiot!” before landing a playful slap on his arm. “Is that all? I thought you were going to say something bad. That something terrible was going on. Thank God.”

Joel had frowned. “So you… don’t mind?” He’d paused, narrowed his eyes. “You don’t seem surprised.”

She’d shaken her head. “Of course I don’t mind. Why the hell would I mind? I’m not a homophobe. If blokes float your boat, so be it. As long as you’re happy, I couldn’t give a toss. And, for the record…” it had been her turn to pause, “I think I’ve known for years.” She nodded as long-forgotten jigsaw pieces began slotting together in her head, then shrugged. “Yeah. I have. Years.”

And now, twenty years later, their friendship had endured—flourished, even. Weathered storms, and basked in sunlight—much as Joel continued to do as she grew closer. Her smile widened, and she was glad she had on flat shoes—not only did it make both her job and the short walk from the school easier, it also meant she had a good chance of creeping up on Joel, maybe scaring the shit out of him as he sunned himself. They might be approaching forty, but when they were together, they often acted as immature and idiotic as they had when they’d first met. Yes, they were getting older, but they sure as shit weren’t growing up.

Respective partners had come and gone, most of them never able to comprehend, much less tolerate, hers and Joel’s unique friendship, but as their jobs, and other friends and family kept them busy and fulfilled, singledom had never particularly concerned either of them. As far as she was concerned, at least, what would be, would be.

She enjoyed the sunshine on her skin as she closed the gap between them, then held her breath as she came within a couple of metres of Joel before flinging herself forward and grabbing onto his nearest finely-muscled arm. “Gotcha!”

He yelped, jumped, snatched his arm away and opened his eyes in a hilarious sequence, then clutched his chest and gave her a good-natured glare, his blue eyes glinting. “Fuck’s sake, Bree! You’re lucky I didn’t swing for you, then. I thought someone was trying to rob me.”

“That’ll teach you to wear ludicrously expensive watches,” she replied with a snicker.

He glanced wryly at his Patek Philippe, then looked back at her with a grin. “Touché. Come on,” he turned around, slipped his arm through hers and led her into the relative gloom of the pub, “for that twattishness, first drink’s on you.”

She couldn’t argue with that reasoning. It was still worth it, though, to see the look of pure panic cross his face. She stifled further giggles, not wanting to inspire her friend to order the most expensive drink he could think of, purely to get his own back. While top of the range watches were easily within his budget, she’d had to save up for a mid-range Fitbit.

A few minutes later, with drinks in hand, they sat down at a table on the terrace overlooking the river and took simultaneous sips of their chosen beverages. Brianna swallowed the mouthful of chilled white wine, then, without meaning to, let out a long, contented sigh.

Joel raised an eyebrow as he swigged his beer, then said, “Sounds as though you needed that. Tough week?”

“Hmm. You could say that.” She fidgeted in her seat, getting the uncomfortable inkling she’d opened a can of worms she’d have preferred was left undisturbed.

“Oh?” His other eyebrow jumped up to join the first. “Do tell.”

She stared out over the river, screwed up her nose and wafted a hand in his vague direction. “No, no, it’s work stuff. Boring, really. Not worth talking about.”

“Bree.” He grabbed her hand, drawing her attention to his face. His expression was earnest, his gaze intense. “Maybe it is boring, but it’s clearly bothering you, so I want to know about it. I’m your best friend, remember? If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”

She squeezed his hand, then pulled hers away, picked up her glass and took a gulp. Swallowed, then groaned. There was no putting the lid back on the can—she might as well come out with it. “Oh, all right. It’s just… I don’t know… I think I’m getting a bit fed up of teaching.”

Joel spluttered into his pint, drawing querying glances from a few of the people at tables adjacent to theirs. Ignoring them, Joel put his drink down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gaped at her as though she’d grown a second head. “What? But you… you love teaching!”

Nodding sadly, she replied, “I do. The teaching part. The kids. But the rest; the planning, the admin, the assessing, the being assessed, being micromanaged, dealing with parents, the endless fucking meetings, the meetings about meetings, the meetings that could have been an email… it’s getting on top of me. It wasn’t too bad before—the joy of being in the classroom far outweighed the rest, but since the pandemic, the shambles that is bloody Brexit and the subsequent government fuckery, things have become steadily worse. Rules being changed, goalposts moving, budgets being squeezed, funding getting cut, costs going up. We’re expected to work more and more hours for the same amount of pay, with fewer support staff, yet still uphold the same insanely high standards and have enough energy and spark to engage and teach a class of primary school kids! It’s becoming completely untenable. And the strike action hasn’t exactly been stress free.”

Joel gave her a sympathetic smile. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better. Why haven’t you mentioned this before now?”

She shrugged. “No point. All the decisions are way above my pay grade, so there’s nothing I can do. I’ve just been soldiering on, hoping things will improve. But right now, I honestly can’t see an end in sight. We’re human beings, not robots, and we’re being treated like shit. We’ve come a long way from being lauded as keyworkers, that’s for bloody certain.” She rolled her lips inward, bit down on them, wondering whether she should let the words on the tip of her tongue come out. She’d barely admitted it to herself, much less anyone else. But this was Joel. He’d have her back no matter what she said.

She took a deep breath, huffed it out again, then looked him in the eye. “I’m thinking of jacking it in at the end of term.”

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures, Eyes Wide Open, The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight, Curve Appeal, and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her and her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/linktree

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Beautiful Undulations – Smut For Good: Curves Rule Charity Blog Hop!

Welcome to my part of the wonderful Curves Rule Charity Blog Hop! 

If you like what you read -and if you leave me a lovely comment- you could win a Kay Jaybee novel or anthology of your choice in e-form. And don’t forget to check out all the other blogs in the hop before 13th April!! http://smutters.co.uk/blog/smut-for-good-curves-rule

The Smut team are trying to raise as much money as we can to go towards finding a cure for Parkinson’s. (Donations and info link are at the bottom of the blog.)

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I’ve always been a fan of curves- big, small, average- any size will do. We all have beautiful undulations that we so rarely appreciate.

Curves will always be popular. They always have been- just look at our ancestors. Did they worship woman with overworked and over-exercised ironing board bodies? Nope!

Ancient British Venus Statue

Ancient British Venus Statue

Since Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse asked me to do a blog for this hop I began to think about all the female characters I’ve written. Without realising it, I have developed a pattern. My heroines are usually curvy or curvaceous. The women you are meant to dislike (with the exception of Lady Tia in The Retreat, who is certainly a big and beautiful creation), are generally vain gym bunnies who have honed themselves into the aforementioned ironing boards! I had no idea I’d done this!! I’ve always disliked manufactured figures, be they small or large- any one who exercises to the point where they turn themselves into a clone is a real turn off.

Let’s here it for a natural figure- whatever size or shape it is!!

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Here’s a little snippet including one of my favourite Rubenseque characters- Mrs Laura Peters, from The Perfect Submissive

Laura Peters’ mind went into overdrive. Flicking through a variety of possible erotic scenarios, she placed him at the mercy of a large muscular man, begging to be skewered up the arse on his magnificent cock. She saw him bound and gagged; a darkly tanned figure bent over his chest, stroking him relentlessly with a split-tailed whip. Perhaps he was writhing on a four-poster bed, awaiting a woman’s eager tongue against his balls; a woman who’d just spent the last hour teasing his body with silk scarves …

Snapping her mind back to reality, the manageress glanced at the wooden-cased grandfather clock that stood behind the hotel bar. It was a couple of minutes to 11.00 p.m. and the poised man at the corner table, who’d sparked her imagination so powerfully, had been watching her for a least half an hour.

The Per Sub- new rope

Sitting alone on a padded stool, her back resting against the bar, Laura could clearly picture the thoughts running through his mind. Is she an escort or a prostitute? A business woman travelling alone to a conference? Does she have a partner about to join her? She knew it wouldn’t occur to him that she was the co-runner of the Fables Country Hotel in which he was staying.

Shaking out the long russet hair that hung down her neck, Laura felt it smother her shoulders. Fixing her bright green eyes on one of the ghastly paintings that adorned the hotel lounge’s walls, she hid her smile as the guest continued to observe her. She wondered when he would make a move. He was, or appeared to be, exactly what she was looking for.

Without giving the stranger the satisfaction of seeing her glance at him in return, Laura mentally weighed up his appearance. At approximately 5’ 9”, he was only an inch taller than her, and she guessed his age to be in the region of 35. His short-sleeved shirt revealed his arms to be muscular without being overworked, and as he sipped at his pint of beer she noticed the signs of a small tattoo peek from beneath his casually smart polo-shirt sleeve, although she was unable to see precisely what it depicted. Reining in her thoughts from too much speculation as to the nature and extent of his body art, Laura continued her silent summary of his physical attributes.

The short brown hair that framed a roughly shaved face was speckled with the first flecks of grey. Almost square in shape, his rugged confident face held deep brown eyes. Those eyes seemed to hold so much promise, and Laura felt a frisson of lust trip down her spine as she wondered what it was going to feel like when he locked them on to her own and begged her to make him come, pleaded with her to … Laura took a deep breath. She was convinced that it would happen, and was already quietly looking forward to seeing how he would cope with what she had in mind.

Sipping her drink, Laura wondered how he saw her, with her ankle-length khaki-green dress gathered beneath her chest in a style reminiscent of a character from Jane Austen. On a slimmer or shorter female it would have looked wrong, but on her tall Rubenesque figure, the result was simply stunning. Perfectly proportioned, she was beautifully rounded and gorgeously curved.

Continuing to covertly watch the stranger, Laura reflected on how at ease he seemed compared to many of the business men and women who passed through the doors of the hotel. His features didn’t display the slightest trace of anxiety, and the manageress was struck by the man’s air of self-possession. It occurred to Laura that he might, from the smirk that played around his lips, be lost in a sexual fantasy. She hoped he was…

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Thanks for dropping by to support this charity blog hop!!

And remember- whatever shape you are- thin, slim, average, large, or big- you are beautiful, and every one of your natural undulations is special.

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Smut for Good: Curves Rule is a blog hop with prizes galore to raise funds for Parkinson’s UK as this is Parkinson’s Awareness week. To find more curves, and seek out further prizes please visit http://smutters.co.uk/smut-for-good and if you can please visit the Smut for Good: Curves Rule Just Giving Page at http://www.justgiving.com/curvesrule and donate whatever you can to help us reach our target of £100 to raise awareness of Parkinson’s and to support the charity Parkinson’s UK http://www.parkinsons.org.uk/ who help those with the disease learn to cope with the challenges, give out information and search for a cure.

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Happy blog reading everyone!

Don’t forget to leave me a comment, with your email address, to be in with the chance of winning a digital version of one of my books xxx

Kay xx

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