New Release!

Stella Eromonsere-Ajanaku's new book is out!

Another hot read! Check it out! Here's an excerpt:

Kiss My Lips – New Excerpt 

The doorbell sounded.

Lorna lifted her teary face out of her aunt's arms. "Who else are you expecting this morning? You’ve got more surprises in store for me, Auntie?"

Instead of answering the question, her aunt glanced at her brother.

"Please get the door, Kanu. I'll quickly get changed. Make my guest welcome, will you?"

Lorna looked from the woman rushing off to her father, who was striding towards the front door. She plucked out a handful of tissue from her bag, wiped off streaks of wet mascara and sat on the black leather bar stool by the kitchen island. She poured herself a glass of mango juice and was sipping the drink when her father came back with Logan in tow.

The glass slipped out of her right fingers but she rescued it with her left hand. Her stomach muscles contracted. Her feet rushed ahead and she threw herself into Logan's outstretched arms.

He scented of warm balsam. She inhaled as her head rested on the hard plane of his chest wall. Pure joy leaked out of her heart, flooding her entire body. The arms holding her were all taut muscle and strength. She wrapped her arms round his black silk shirt and burst into tears.

"Maybe I should leave you two," her father excused, walking in the direction of the second guest bedroom through the hallway.

Logan guided his fiancée to the pale green, moriko leaf upholstered sofa. He sat down and pulled her to sit across his thighs.

Lorna sobbed.

Logan let her cry. From time to time, he wiped her face.

Through her tears, she saw a tiny trickle of moisture drop down one lane on his cheek. "Are you crying, Logan?" she asked, not quite sure he understood her pain. She wiped one finger over the wetness and then, she saw another small tear, drop out of his right eye.

With her face only inches from his, Lorna kissed his half-parted lips. The kiss was raw and hungry as her tongue dived into his mouth, demanding and taking. Her nipples stiffened in her body-hugging top and she pressed her breasts into his torso.

Logan's arms crashed around her shoulders and the chiseled wall of his chest teased her nipples taut. Wild fire raged as his tongue dipped into her mouth, taking control and sending flickers of burning heat through her thighs.

"Your dad and aunt are here, sweetheart. Do you want me to show them how much you mean to me?" Logan's sensible words brought her back to her aunt's living room. She leaned her head on his forehead.

"When I saw the tear drop from your eye, fireworks exploded in my chest. You cried with me, Logan," she said in awe.

"Did I?" Logan shrugged, running one finger across her lips. "Love is a strange emotion, Lorna. Your pain is my pain and your joy is mine."

Title: Kiss My Lips

Author: +Stella Eromonsere-Ajanaku 

Series: Holiday Series, #2

Genre: Romance/Contemporary/Multicultural/Interracial

ISBN: 978-1502776549 (Paperback)

Publication Date: Wednesday 29th October 2014

Cover Artist: Love Bites And Silk

Women are Like Wine...

I had to confide those to someone and that was Sally.  Sally would understand.  I called her.  “I miss the sex.  I never realized until now that I developed a taste for it − mediocre as it may have been for most of my life.  I seem to have withdrawal symptoms now.”

“My, oh my, didn’t you know that your libido and pleasure in sex is inversely proportional to age and attractiveness?”

“Explain that to me in plain English, please.”

“The older a woman gets the more interested and ready for action she gets.  Alas, she is also rapidly losing her attraction in the eyes of the opposite sex.”

I nodded.  “That’s obvious.  Men needn’t worry about aging or dying their hair.  Their gray hair is attractive.  A man never has too many wrinkles in his face.  It just doesn’t work the other way round though.”

Sally had a brain wave.  “A young lover and an experienced woman would make a perfect couple, in the sense of coupling that is,” she giggled.  “Just giving and taking pleasure, no hidden agendas, no complications.”

“Being in the wine business now, it strikes me as an interesting analogy: Women are like wine allegedly.  The older they get the better, the more mature.  But how many wine lovers are there to go round? How many have taken a wine appreciation course?”

Sally sighed.  “You know what the other downside is? Maintenance and up-keep get harder as well.” Now I sighed.  “Well, my dear, let’s keep up the good work and remind each other to not let oneself go.”

“You got a deal, girl.”

What do you really Want?

Did it matter that I so often wondered whether these money things mattered? How could I be so shallow again, overlooking all the positives and wishing for a man who had more money? Had I come so far and become so happy only to be stalled by that old conundrum: love or money? I’d had money without enough love; now love with too little money, which had been so hard to find.  Now with my brain insistently whispering Love and Money I feared ending up with nothing but myself.

Dee wasn’t much help when I asked her for advice.

“You got your independence! Now you have a man who loves you.  What else do you want, woman? You wanted a relationship.  Now take the good with the bad.” But wasn’t that over-simplifying it a bit?

“Why am I not happy?”

“Why don’t you write down the ten most important values in your life, Cherie?”

I did and there it was in the top five: financial stability right next to emotional stability and love.  Once I had it in front of me in writing, I knew I had to deal with finances sooner rather than later.

In one of our longer phone conversations, my friend Annie asked me, “What do you really want?”

An overpowering question in its simplicity.  Most people think they know what they want, but did I? And how would I know when I had it? Was what I wanted realistic? Or was I a person who once she had a good or even great man, would then pick him apart because he was not perfect?

Alec’s love and commitment to me dispersed my doubts for another few weeks.  His affirmations like, I am hurting when you are not well and I want to comfort you reflected his feelings for me.  He never spoke of fucking, for him it was forever making love.  How could I cheapen this love that we both felt with these other mercenary thoughts that kept creeping in?

“The sex is so wonderful because it feels right,” Alec said.  “It’s all in the head, and it feels so right.”

There you go − I realized that’s where it went wrong with Oliver.  It didn’t feel right.