Sedonia Guillone

Death By Fiction
Author: Ashley R. Lister
Genre: Mystery; Suspense; Adult fiction; Traditional British Mystery
Length: Super-novel (90,000 words)
ISBN13: 9781453800300
Formats: E-book; Trade Paperback
E-book Price: 5.99
Trade paperback: 11.99

Cover by Les Byerley

PDF | MOBI | Sony LRF |LIT | EPUB

Sex, lies and murder. The aspiring authors of the Manchester Mystery writers’ circle don’t just write about these vices. They commit them…

There’s been a murder at the Manchester Mystery Writers’ circle. A publisher with a sordid reputation turns up dead at their Friday night meeting. A single shot to the forehead. A cold-blooded execution. And a hotel full of suspects.

It’s a major inconvenience for some. And a golden opportunity for others.

The circle’s five aspiring mystery authors try to work out whodunit.

A policeman, a gangster, a pensioner, a psychopath and a femme fatale.

Each hopes to solve the mystery in his or her own distinctive style. The correct solution could land one of them the publishing contract of their dreams. And all of them try to unravel the crime without exposing their own torrid involvement.

Excerpt:

The interview room was a grey cell. As small as life and twice as bleak. Grey walls. Grey ceiling. Grey floor. Grey table. Annabel sat in a grey chair facing a grey-faced Detective Sergeant Cassidy. A grey tape-recorder whispered softly in the background, quietly catching every word she hadn’t spoken.

“For the sake of the record…” Cassidy’s Manchester accent disappeared while he spoke into the tape recorder. Clearly anxious to sound important on the recording he enunciated with the round and plummy tones of a BBC radio announcer from the 1940s. “…it should be noted here that Annabel Blake has refused legal representation.”

Cassidy made no mention of the fact that, before he had turned the tape recorder on, he had said the only suspects who demanded a solicitor present were those with something to hide. She was not naïve enough to believe that was true. She felt slightly insulted that he thought so little of her intelligence as to use the line. Nevertheless, because she felt sure she could conceal the truth, Annabel agreed to be interviewed without a solicitor present.

He cast a glance toward the clock on the wall and said, “The time is now 1:00 a.m. on Saturday, November 9. We are recommencing the interview begun at 10:00 p.m. on Friday, November 8. Those present are myself, Detective Sergeant Franklin Cassidy. Constable Mary Elizabeth Watcham…”

He paused. The uniformed constable muttered, “Present.”
“…and the interviewee, Annabel Blake.”

Feeling a response was needed from her, she said, “Present.”

And then, save for the hiss of the tape recorder and the whisper of its turning spools, there was more silence. Constable Mary Elizabeth Watcham, with her hands behind her back and her breasts thrust boldly into the chest of her flak jacket, studied the clock. Cassidy glowered at Annabel. And Annabel stared at the table.

Because she wasn’t under arrest—because she was only helping the officers with their enquiries—she had been allowed to keep her possessions. She rummaged through her coat and retrieved the three things that were always in her pockets. A tube of L’Oreal grape lipstick, a stainless steel compact mirror, and her Zippo lighter.

Cassidy pointed toward a NO SMOKING sign, the only decoration in the room aside from the clock. She nodded silent understanding of the gesture. But she couldn’t stop herself from tracing a finger over the raised image of the skull and cross bones.

“Come on, Ms Blake.” Cassidy’s tone was gentle and avuncular. The suggestion of a rare smiled teased his thin lips. It was obvious his mouth was not used to forming the expression. “You’re a member of The Great Northern’s writers’ circle. You’re a storyteller. Tell us a story.”

“A story?” she mused. “A mystery story?”

The novelist Mary Roberts Rinehart once said, ‘The mystery story is really two stories in one: the story of what happened and the story of what appeared to happen.’ Annabel reflected on that remembered quotation as she realized there were three possible stories she could tell Detective Sergeant Frank Cassidy.
She could tell him the story he wanted to hear.

She could tell him the story she wanted to tell.

Or she could tell him the story that really happened.

On consideration, she decided the story he wanted to hear and the one she wanted to tell bore the closest similarities. They would probably make for the most acceptable narration. She didn’t think either of them wanted to hear her version of what had really occurred. That twisted and tawdry tale would involve too many personal revelations.

“I wanted to get published.”

Cassidy regarded her coolly.

Watcham stared, unblinking, at the clock on the wall.

“I’ve wanted to be published since…” She paused and wondered how long she had harbored the dream of becoming a writer. It seemed like forever but that would have been a trite and clichéd phrase and she didn’t want the transcript of her conversation with the policeman to be an unsatisfactory read.
“I’ve wanted to be published for as long as I can remember.”

The words surprised her with their truthfulness.

She could recall harboring the desire to write fiction from childhood days when she had first begun reading fairy stories before graduating to simple novels. Turning the pages; being mystified and enthralled by the exciting worlds accessible through printed ink on paper; she had yearned to be one of the gods that created fictional worlds for story-hungry readers like herself. The deep-rooted need to see her own work in print had been a huge part of her life. That desire had dictated her choices of English studies, which was where she had met Chris, her first fateful love. Her need to write had influenced every other major decision in her life, from the therapeutic decision to write about her interpretation of the world and her feelings toward it, through to her subsequent employment in a local library. Annabel thought it was true to say the desire to become a published writer had been with her for as long as she could remember.

But accidentally speaking the truth in this situation was a disconcerting experience. She reminded herself that she was in a police interview room and her words were being recorded. Experience had taught her that, in such circumstances, it would be a mistake to speak the truth.

“That’s how I came to be a member of the Great Northern’s writers’ circle. I wanted to be a published writer.”

Cassidy scratched something on a notepad.

Annabel could see he had a bundle of paperwork with him. It rested on the desk between them by the side of his right arm. Without trying to read any of it—or at least, without making it obvious to Cassidy that she was trying to reading it—Annabel saw one manila folder labeled AUTOPSY REPORT. The words carried the cold finality of death. Gooseflesh prickled her arms. She forced herself to sit still, fearful that an involuntary shiver might be misinterpreted as an admission of guilt.

“You knew White?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“How did you meet?”

“I attended the meeting on the first of this month. That was when Randall Wolf announced that an editor from London would be visiting the group on the eighth.” She stared pointedly at Cassidy. “You weren’t at that meeting.”

He scratched more notes on his pad. “November first?”
She nodded.

“Wolf said the owner of M R White publishing would be visiting the circle. The man was going to give us a lecture about publishing and then we were going to try and sell him our work. I think that was the general plan.”

“But it didn’t happen like that?”

“No. White being dead prevented him from being able to deliver his lecture.”
There was silence.

The recorder hissed softly in the background as it captured every word unspoken.

Annabel and Cassidy considered each other like Grand Masters on opposing sides of a championship chess table. He didn’t seem to blink very often. His eyes were wide. His gaze was unwavering. The whole effect was mildly hypnotic. She thought it was a feature that added to Cassidy’s image of being vaguely reptilian. It was not an attractive look. No one ever said, ‘as pretty as a snake,’ or ‘as handsome as a lizard.’
He coughed. “So, you met White before he died.”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“The Great Northern Hotel. The bar, to be specific.”

“When?”

“Thursday night. Thursday the seventh of November. About ten o’clock.”
“What happened?”

She willed her cheeks not to blush. “I’m a writer. He was a publisher.” It sounded like the start of a ribald joke. She was a writer, he was a publisher, and he showed her how to submit. There was an unpleasant truth at the centre of that humor. And it was as much as she was going to tell Cassidy about her meeting with White. There was no need to explain she had been dressed like a cheap hooker on Thursday night.

Lion’s Lover is one of the featured releases at The Romance Studio Release Party today! Come and look around and enter to win prizes!

The Delightfully Wicked Punishment of Takashi Yamashita
Line: Ai Press Tryst
Length: 3,000 words (Short story)
Genre: Gay erotica/Menage a trois/BDSM/Historical/Samurai
MSR: 1.00
You pay: 0.99

Buy from 1Romanceebooks

Takashi, the most accomplished archer in his unit, accidentally spies on the secret love tryst of his commander. He wants to pull away and not invade Masaru’s privacy but the erotic pull is beyond even a samurai’s highly disciplined skill. However, because he remains where he is, the two lovers catch his intrusion. Takashi is caught and must be punished for his crime.

What happens next is beyond Takashi’s wildest, most erotic dreams…

Excerpt:

Takashi fought to keep his lip from trembling as cold sweat poured over his forehead. It was bad enough how he’d behaved, but to act like a sniveling coward was worse. “No, Masaru-sama. I have no excuse.” He bowed his head.
The commander was quiet for several moments and all Takashi could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears.
“Well, Yamashita, in spite of the fact that you are a decent samurai, you must still be punished for this infraction.”
Takashi kept his head bowed. “Yes, commander.” When he looked up, he was surprised to see a wicked gleam in the commander’s eyes.
“Gyousei, release him.”
The warrior-monk obeyed immediately and Takashi nearly fell over to the ground. He caught himself and sat up, trembling as he waited for what the two men would decide to do. When he dared to look up, he caught Masaru and his lover exchanging a look. Both pairs of eyes now gleamed with that wicked look. A few more breath-stealing moments passed as Masaru and Gyousei carried on some sort of unspoken communication, the kind such as passes between two souls who are so deeply connected not even death could separate them.
A tiny smile quirked at Masaru’s lips. He gave a small nod and the next Takashi knew, Gyousei’s strong hands were on him again.
Gyousei yanked his kimono back off his shoulders then ripped at his sash which slid off and dropped away with the kimono. Then those same thick fingers did the same with Takashi’s loincloth, yanking it away until Takashi was completely exposed to his captors’ eyes.
Just as quickly, the yamabushi stepped back, leaving Takashi on his knees, like a dwarf between two giants. Before looking down, he caught a glance of the commander’s front, a large erection pointed into the air. Takashi’s heart pounded, sweat dripped down his chest and back. Confusion made his mind swirl. What was to become of him now?
In the silent moments that followed, he knelt in seiza, sitting on his heels, hands on his thighs, head bowed, waiting for his punishment.
Gyousei chuckled. “Masaru, you never told me you had such an aesthetically pleasing samurai in your command. Small and wiry with muscle. Pleasant, indeed. I think I shall enjoy punishing him very much.”
“As shall I. On your hands and knees, Yamashita.”

Publisher’s note: This story is previously published and has been extensively revised for re-release with Ai Press.

At this time we are currently acquiring M/M and M/F/M in the following subgenres: contemporary, sci-fi, steampunk, cowboy and Western and paranormal (vampire/werewolf/psy).

Length: 25,000 words and up. Aside from being erotic, stories must have strong characters and storyline. Mansucripts must be clean and need very little editing. Always have a proofreader or beta-reader look over your work before sending it.

We do NOT want:
underage sex (under 18)
bodily functions (i.e. golden showers, things like that)
bestiality
rape or non-consensual sex of any kind
adultery
heavy BDSM

Terms:
50/50 on digital and 10% on print. All titles 50k and over are eligible for print based on initial sales.

Send an e-mail with brief synopsis, word count and full mansucript to bimday450@yahoo.com .

Please allow 2-4 weeks for a response. Thank you!

From Blackraven’s Reviews: What a thrilling read! Sedonia Guillone isn’t a new-to-me author, but it has been awhile since I read one of her books and I obviously forgot just how exciting and enthralling they are. Acts of Passion is a cerebral thriller combined with sweet and sexy romance and together they make a fascinating read.
The mystery of who and why is ably defined and detailed as the story progresses. I’m quite impressed with Sedonia Guillone’s ability to lay before the reader a somewhat exotic murder where, ultimately, everything falls nicely into place. In addition to a great mystery, she’s given us another touching and seriously hot romance. Acts of Passion is a story sure to please fans of Sedonia Guillone’s as well as introduce to non-fans an author who writes extremely tempting and steamy romances. A wonderful story for a fan of either genre, but for those that enjoy a combination of both, Acts of Passion is a top-notch read.

You may remember some weeks back I mentioned the mainstream imprint I’ve started, Kokoro Press and that there is a murder mystery upcoming by a distinguished UK author? Well, the time is getting closer.

Death By Fiction by Ashley R. Lister is coming soon to Kokoro Press. Sex. Lies. Murder. The aspiring authors of the Manchester Mystery Writers’ Circle don’t just write about these sins, they commit them.

Cover by Les Byerley, of course! Please stay tuned for more details as they unfold!

Lion’s Lover
Author: Sedonia Guillone
Publisher: Ai Press
Genre: M/F; Shapeshifter; Paranormal; historical; adventure
Word count: 48,900
Suggested price: 7.49
Actual price: 4.99

Buy from 1Romanceebooks|Coming soon to Amazon Kindle!

Serena Blakely made two deathbed promises to her first lover: first that she will love again; and second that she will go on safari with her uncle to hunt the legendary Great Lion. Nothing could’ve prepared her for what she finds on the African plains. Her uncle’s hunting companion is the sexiest man she has ever met, but more than that, she also meets the ngatu, a shapeshifting lion-man right out of African folklore. And the ngatu wants Serena for his mate!

Aubrey Darnell has a secret. The broken heart that once drove him from England to Africa has now transformed him into the ngatu, a shapeshifter lion and man. He has managed to keep his identity a secret. Until now. The mere scent of Serena Blakely sends him into the change. She is his mate, and her love can cure him . Now he must seduce the beautiful young Englishwoman without her finding out he’s the very man she’s promised to hunt.

Publisher’s note: This book is previously published elsewhere.

Excerpt:

Something creaked, snapping her gaze to the French doors. They were standing open, the soft white curtains wafting in a breeze. Her heart thumped painfully and she began to shiver. She’d closed those doors before getting into bed.

A shadow loomed over her and she yelped softly, scrambling back against the headboard.

A man, with dark gold hair full and long like a lion’s mane, appeared as if from a whisper, his large, powerful body hovering over hers. A full, soft beard, equally soft and wild, covered his cheeks and jaw, and his eyes glinted, like a cat’s in the shadows. They were greener than emeralds flecked with gold, their gaze burning into hers. In spite of her fear, Serena found herself captured by the glittering jewels.

He was so close that Serena could feel the heat rising from him. His breath caressed the skin of her face, and tension quivered through his taut, sinewy muscles. He seemed ready to pounce on her.

She stared back, equally tensed. His scent, musky and wild, was unlike any other she’d ever experienced. In spite of her fear, she began to melt, as she had earlier on the terrace.

“Who are you?” Serena whispered over the vibration that seemed to emanate from his core. If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn he was purring!

He continued to stare at her, that strange thrum filling her senses, blending with her own heartbeat. Under his hypnotic gaze, the tension in her body drained. A primal throbbing took over between her thighs, and her breathing became ragged. Desire blazed, making ashes of her fear. She knew that whatever this man wanted, she would give.

She saw him inching his way closer to the edge of the bed. He moved cautiously, like a cat stalking a mouse until he reached bedside and crouched.

“Who are you?” she whispered again, although she did not expect an answer. She didn’t know if he even understood.

In one light swift motion, he sprang up, perching his large muscled body on the edge of the mattress. His shoulders and chest were broad, and his arms and torso rippled with quivering muscles. And he was naked.

Serena’s eyes had adjusted to the shadowy light and she could see his entire body. His thighs were long with hard muscle. His waist tapered into slim hips and round hard buttocks. When he moved, she saw his cock, long and hard, springing upward from a nest of dark hair. She caught her breath at the sight.

Suddenly, he was over her, his large hands pushed into the pillow on either side of her head. He lowered his face closer and closer. His eyes glittered into hers.

The spellbinding purr that emanated from him vibrated through Serena. Her eyes fluttered closed as the sensation caressed her breasts and the swelling musky flesh of her vaginal cleft. Her breasts heaved with her ragged breaths and her skin dampened with perspiration inspired by the heat of his body so close to hers.

Gently, with a whispery light touch, he nudged her, just like a cat, with his forehead against her cheek. The movement sent a wave of pleasure rippling through her and she instinctively parted her legs, wanting his large, strong body between them.

He nudged her again, this time with a longer stroke, up one cheek, into her hair. Serena moaned softly, sinking back into the soft mattress, her body languorous, her vagina swollen with desire, wet and open.

The movement of her body had caused her nightgown to slide upward and gather around her waist. She heard his sharp intake of breath as one large settled on her thigh, the fingertips sliding slowly upwards, toward her pubic mound.

Serena tilted her head back, her hands grabbing up the sheets in fistfuls as his fingertips raked lightly through her mound of tawny curls and grazed her vaginal lips. She had not had a man’s touch between her legs since the last time Theo had pleasured her, and the mere brush of his fingertips along her moist slit was intoxicating.

He slipped his fingers down into her musky wetness, massaging the swollen ridges and folds of intimate flesh with light, swift strokes. Serena gasped at the intense pleasure, the delicious heat of his touch and spread her legs further apart as he filled her sheath with his large fingers, stretching her, opening her. He lowered his face down to her open crotch, causing her to moan softly when his lips made contact. He nuzzled the soft fleshy lips, causing her to gasp with pleasure when he ran the tip of his tongue along her slit.

Serena gasped at the sheer, unutterable bliss from the heat of his tongue and involuntarily arched her pelvis upward, against his mouth, silently begging him for more. He seemed to understand her need and responded by gently spreading open her vaginal lips. His breath was hot on the slick pink flesh and Serena’s heart pounded furiously in her chest, her arousal mounting to a pitch as he began to lap at her swollen clit like a cat with a bowl of milk. Her body writhed in delight and she reached down with one hand to entwine her fingers in his hair. He slid two large fingers into her, moving them in and out while he suckled on the engorged nub.

Serena lost herself in the in delicious friction of his tongue. Theo had done this to her many times and had always made her come within moments. The same was happening now. His hot tongue on her clit and his fingers massaging her wet swollen passage was more pleasure than she’d had in over three years and she went over the edge in a mere few seconds. She arched her hips under his mouth, letting out several soft cries before collapsing.

She looked up at him where he crouched between her spread thighs. He, too, was watching her, his green and gold eyes glinting in the dark with the subtlest movement of his head. The purring sound still emanated from him and even in the shadowy light, Serena could see the droplets of her musk clinging to his beard. She sat up and reached out her hand to touch his face.

He backed off, away from her hand, and crept off the bed, his large body coiling into a crouching position.

“What is it?” Serena whispered. “Don’t you want me to touch you?”

Fallon’s Jewel by Sedonia Guillone may be one of my favorite novels I’ve read by her. Not only was I immediately caught up in the mystery about Kenji’s past; I fell in love with the heroes, Kenji and Jake. The intense emotional connection between them kept me enthralled with the story early on in the book and left me with a very satisfied feeling at the end of it….as usual, Ms. Guillone, swept me away in the love that Kenji and Jake shared between them. Plus, the mystery behind Kenji’s past kept me intrigued throughout the book. Fallon’s Jewel is a very fast paced read and I loved every minute of it!

Fallon’s Jewel by Sedonia Guillone has earned it’s place on my keeper shelf. I know I’ll be rereading this story for many years to come and whether it’s the second time or the twentieth, I have a feeling I will love this book as much as I did the first time I read it.

Available in digital from Ai Press!
In Kindle and trade paperback at Amazon!

Author: Sedonia Guillone
Length: Short Story (Tryst Line)
Genre: M/M; Manlove; Historical; Samurai
Price: 0.99

Buy at 1Romanceebooks|Buy at Amazon Kindle

Hideyuki Sukiyama has been in love with the commander of his unit for thirteen years. However, Commander Masanao whose long-time companion and lover left him two years earlier has shown no signs of searching for a new love. Until…

A series of interviews is granted, with one unusual and erotic request. The man who fulfills the request unflinchingly and with his whole heart and soul will take that coveted place at the handsome commander’s side. All other men have failed or have not had the courage to take the test. Will Hideyuki take the challenge, and if so, will he succeed and be granted the one thing for which his heart has burned?

Publisher’s note: This story is previously published and has been extensively revised for publication with Ai Press.

Excerpt:

“No, Hideyuki-san! You must not enter into manlove with Commander Masanao.” Kobayashi’s eyes were wide with fear.
Hideyuki studied the other samurai’s face in the dance of firelight. He rubbed his chin, badly in need of a shave, with thumb and forefinger. “And why not?” His own interview with the commander was for the following afternoon.
Kobayashi leaned toward him, bottom lip trembling. “Because he is perverse.” That last word blended with a shower of sparks from their campfire.
Hideyuki’s hand went to the hilt of his wakizashi, but then slipped away. Not only was it illegal to draw one’s weapon, there was no honor in slaying a worm like Kobayashi no matter what slander he put forth. The truth of Masanao’s character was evident in the dark pierce of his almond-shaped eyes, in his aristocratically rounded features and broad-shouldered stance. No other samurai was as fine or as handsome as Commander Masanao and Hideyuki had sworn to himself at age thirteen that when he found the samurai he could truly follow, he would submit to him, body and soul.
After thirteen years of watching Masanao advance in the ranks, and then serving in his unit when he came of age, Hideyuki was positive he’d found that warrior.
He narrowed his eyes at Kobayashi. Like so many of their class, the man was a samurai in title only. The warrior’s code, bushido, was not in him and Hideyuki could only guess that Kobayashi’s intense physical beauty alone had won him an interview with the commander. After all, Masanao was human and most humans, male and female, were taken with Kobayashi at first. “Tell me of this perversion, Kobayashi-san,” he said. “That way, I can never claim I wasn’t warned.”
Kobayashi swallowed hard and sat back on his haunches. “Masanao does not merely seek a companion to replace Kazuhiro.”
And why would he? Hideyuki pictured the commander with his kimono open, his tall broad body all smooth golden muscle. Masanao needs faith, service…loyalty. Kazuhiro was a fine swordsman as well as a faithful companion. However his time to marry and produce children had come and Masanao had obviously grieved the loss of his lover since he’d waited nearly two whole years to find another.
“When I went for my interview, he wanted me to…to…” Kobayashi’s lip continued to quake and his eyes stared into the fire.
“Never mind, Kobayashi-san.” He lay back on his futon bedroll and stretched his legs out toward the fire. Within his loincloth, his musuko tightened with need. He’d already decided that whatever the commander asked of him, he’d do. “No need for you to relive the distress. I will wait until tomorrow and find out for myself.”
And why would he? Hideyuki pictured the commander with his kimono open, his tall broad body all smooth golden muscle. Masanao needs faith, service…loyalty. Kazuhiro was a fine swordsman as well as a faithful companion. However his time to marry and produce children had come and Masanao had obviously grieved the loss of his lover since he’d waited nearly two whole years to find another.
“When I went for my interview, he wanted me to…to…” Kobayashi’s lip continued to quake and his eyes stared into the fire.
“Never mind, Kobayashi-san.” He lay back on his futon bedroll and stretched his legs out toward the fire. Within his loincloth, his musuko tightened with need. He’d already decided that whatever the commander asked of him, he’d do. “No need for you to relive the distress. I will wait until tomorrow and find out for myself.”

This is my cat, Squeaky Jeter. She came with the name Squeaky and I added Jeter because to me she has a cute little face like the baseball player, Derek Jeter. lol. Squeaky is very smart and can say, “Hello” like a person. She also says, “Wa woo” but I don’t know what that means.