Helena Maeve – Erotic Author Spotlight Series
It’s Helena Maeve in this week’s erotic author spotlight, and she’s here with another feature (read her previous one here) to showcase her latest series, Shadow Play. You can find three teasingly hot excerpts from the first three books in this series below.
Thanks for stepping into the spotlight, Helena!
If you’d like to read about other erotic authors you can find the Erotic Author Spotlight Series here. Erotic author and interested in your own free feature post at Cara Sutra? Find the call for submissions page here.
I run a similar free promotional offer for sex bloggers and sex toy reviewers. You can find the Sex Blogger Spotlight Series page here, and the call for submissions (the Q&A and other info to send me) here.
Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org with your info – whether author or blogger – and I will reply with your spotlight date. This will be the next available Monday for authors and the next available Thursday for bloggers.
– Cara Sutra
Helena Maeve Biography
Hi, Cara Sutra. Thank you for having me. I’m Helena Maeve, your average carbon-based life form, erotic romance writer, and self-confessed globe trotter. Sitting still has never worked for me in life or in print, which is how I’ve wound up with twenty-some titles under my belt in the last three years and as many drafts in my ‘Glorious Failures’ folder.
Chronically unable to stick to a genre, I’ve dabbled in everything from contemporary ménage stories to sci-fi male/male romance. As a queer lady, I’m always looking to tell stories that don’t get enough love in mainstream romance, whether they be sweet or spine-chilling, villainous or heroic. Stories in which the gender or number of participants are irrelevant have always been my preferred writing and reading material. My latest series, Shadow Play, follows five pairs of dangerous, secretive spies and their dicey m/m entanglements. The first three books are available now from Pride-Publishing.com.
– Helena Maeve
Helena Maeve Links
Erotic Writing by Helena Maeve
Best Kept Lies
Book One in the Shadow Play Series by Helena Maeve
What becomes of the Russian spy who lands himself in the crosshairs of a rogue British agent?
Grigory Antipov’s work within the intelligence community is exemplary, but attracting too much attention is against his interests as a spy—a lesson painfully learned the night he is abducted off the streets of Rome. Captivity is a dangerous thing and Grigory already operates under a cloud of suspicion, given his predilection for male company. Luckily, his stint in British custody is short-lived, a mere flex of muscle from Agent Karim Awad.
Karim’s objective is obvious. Lure Grigory into Section’s clutches and turn him against his own people—expose him to the wrath of Moscow if he refuses. His mission brief may not specify the methods to be used, but Grigory soon discovers that Karim is a man of many talents. With powerful interests at play and the threat of deadly force in the air, Grigory faces an impossible choice—surrender to his fate or sacrifice the only man whose touch makes him feel alive after so many years.
Grigory hit the edge of the mattress with the backs of his knees and tumbled onto the bed. His shirttails already bunched over his belt. It didn’t take much for Karim to tug them all the way free.
Before Grigory kissed him, Karim had been aloof, even somewhat skittish. After, he rose to the challenge as though his life depended on it, straddling Grigory’s lap and shoving him down when he made to arch up into a kiss.
“Wait, wait, let me just—”
Karim kissed him quiet, teeth sharp on Grigory’s lower lip, then scooted down. His warm, broad hands lit little pockets of wildfire along Grigory’s flanks as his shirt was rucked up to expose chest, ribcage, the fragile planes of his hollowed stomach.
Grigory’s heart drummed at a frantic pace.
A scalpel thrust in and up could easily have stilled it, but Karim had other ideas.
He licked a path over the slats of his ribs, the point of his tongue speared into a hard, wet bud to flick at the right nipple. He did the same with the left, unleashing a warm burst of sensation with minimal effort.
Grigory barely smothered his moan. “They… They train you well at Vauxhall Cross, huh?”
Karim answered the quip with the sharp edge of his teeth.
Price of Freedom
Book Two in the Shadow Play Series by Helena Maeve
Some stories just aren’t meant to be told.
From war zones to domestic scandals, Ulysses has built a career as a high-profile journalist at the expense of both family and relationships. Now his dogged pursuit of the truth has cost him credibility and job security. Discredited and depressed, he hunts for the story that will re-establish him as a trustworthy name in British journalism.
Stumbling across a string of mysterious murders that spans the breadth of the continent may prove a godsend. Yet catapulted into a world of spies and outstanding blood debts, Ulysses finds himself collaborating with elusive Robin, a man on the run whose past is as dark as the desires he awakens in Ulysses. Their chemistry is incendiary, breathtaking, unlike anything Ulysses has ever known. And chances are the fallout will prove proportional.
As Robin’s dealings land him in the crosshairs of the British intelligence services, Ulysses is faced with a choice that may cost him his life.
Ulysses was no saint. The banked coals of his arousal flaring to life, he surged greedily into the kiss.
There had been lovers while he was on assignment before—Claudia allowed it as long as he brought back leads to advance the stories they were working on. She tolerated Callum, attaché to the Irish embassy and suspected member of the Republican Army. She turned a blind eye to Ignacio, Cuban-born billionaire who’d made his money dealing with the likes of Gaddafi.
An errand boy in a bar in France barely registered.
Yet the kiss was mind-numbingly good. Robin’s mouth was soft and sleek and pliant beneath Ulysses’, his cheek warm under his fingertips. He only went along with Ulysses’ hunger for a little while.
His breaths fanned across the shelf of Ulysses’ jaw as he seized Ulysses’ bottom lip between his and dug in gently, a muted promise. I can hurt you. He released it with a pop a second later, in favor of tracing the edge of Ulysses’ teeth with his tongue.
Ulysses swayed forward on legs that no longer felt like were his own and pressed both hands to the gritty wall.
Robin mouthed at his jaw when he pulled away, tenderly scraping his tongue along Ulysses’ stubble and making it impossible to think. Ulysses scoured his memory, trying to remember the penalty for indecent exposure in France.
The country of lovers had a strong Catholic majority. They usually had small towns like Gatinau and Criel-sur-Mer locked down.
But that wasn’t what he asked when Robin pulled back to watch him through hooded eyes.
“Are you MI6?” Ulysses panted, struggling not to lean into the delicious pressure of Robin’s thigh between his legs.
“Do you want me to be?”
Book Three in the Shadow Play Series by Helena Maeve
Old spies make dangerous hostages.
A prisoner at the tender mercies of the British Secret Intelligence Services, Manuel has to believe that trading freedom for protection was his only hope of avoiding payback for his crimes. Yet his chequered past is neither forgiven nor forgotten. Every day, Manuel is tasked with providing his handlers new intelligence about the bloodthirsty power players he once served.
In charge of Manuel’s debriefing is Cole, a high-ranking Section officer whose history is intimately intertwined with Manuel’s misdeeds. He intends to make it his mission to unearth Manuel’s secrets, however long that takes. He will break Manuel because it is necessary. Avenging a broken heart has nothing to do with it.
But time is not on their side. When Manuel’s former employer targets the safe house where he is imprisoned, his usefulness as an asset is called into question. As old passions awaken, both Cole and Manuel discover that letting go of the past may not be as easy as they’d hoped.
It was a jagged, harsh imitation of a kiss, nothing at all like the timid brush of lips they’d shared at the Cottage, before the second and final blast.
Cole grabbed his wrist and collar, slotting a thumb into the dip of Manuel’s collarbones and pressing down. He stopped just short of curtailing his breaths.
Manuel didn’t let go for the threat.
He slammed Cole into the bookcase, kitschy canine china figurines and empty vases rattling when he pinned him there with his body. It was an uneven struggle. His bruises ached where Cole dug his fingers into his flesh, spurring him to new depths of longing.
“I hate you,” Manuel gritted out, tearing his mouth away with a snarl.
Cole released his collar and fisted a hand into his hair. “Feeling’s sodding mutual.”
Then they were kissing again, and this time the angle was right, lips and tongue slotting together just as they had twenty years earlier. Manuel ground down into the hollow of Cole’s hip, his dick already stiff with blood. It had been too long since he’d had the privacy to touch himself, much less the inclination to try.
He couldn’t even remember if his last lover had been a man or a woman. It made little difference.
Manuel seized both of Cole’s hands in his scuffed grip and forced them above his head. The sharp echo of a whimper was music to his ears as the edge of the tallest bookshelf dug into Cole’s wrists.
He relished that helpless burst of sound like he savored the shudder that ran through Cole when their hips aligned, cocks brushing through layers and layers of fabric.
“Let me fuck you,” Cole growled.
“In your dreams, you bastard.”
Cole grinned against his chin, raking his teeth through prickly stubble. “Never stopped you before.”
– Helena Maeve
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