Naughty No-No’s Blog Hop

Naughty no-no's

I’m very excited to be part of this blog hop! What a great way to see in the autumn. I love all things erotic and if you follow this blog hop you’ll come across some GREAT erotic romance authors. Check them out here.

I thought I’d treat you today with a sexy excerpt from my debut novella Desire in Deadwood.

If you’d like to be in with a chance of winning a copy, please post a comment at the bottom of the page.Desire in Deadwood has already had several five star reviews and one four star review from Scorching Reviews.


Outside the Gem, she looked around quickly then hurried through the swing doors and into the bar. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of stale sweat and alcohol. A quick scan from under the shawl showed her that it was still quiet so she darted through the bar and headed for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

Once at the top, Evelyn rushed across the wide landing, which looked down onto the open space of the bar, then paused outside the small room. What would happen today? Would she have to stand before him again, scandalously naked whilst he pleasured himself? Would he force himself upon her and expect her to make love to him with their former passion? If he did, would she be able to feign indifference, to force herself to find no pleasure in their coupling? The thought both terrified and aroused her.

©Depositphotos/ Id1974

©Depositphotos/ Id1974

She knocked then entered immediately and let the shawl slip from her head, her stomach clenching at the thought of seeing him again. But he wasn’t alone. He sat on the chaise longue again with his feet planted squarely on the ground in front of him, but next to him, caressing his muscular thigh possessively, was a young woman.

“Oh.” Evelyn settled the shawl upon her shoulders and self-consciously patted her hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that you had company. Shall I go?”

She turned and was about to step out into the corridor when she felt a hand upon her shoulder. She turned, expecting to look up into Nate’s eyes but instead she looked into the laughing green eyes of a whore.

“Don’t go sweety! We was jus’ waitin’ for ya, see!” the girl wheedled, running a finger up and down Evelyn’s cheek. She shrugged it away, causing the girl to cackle and perform an elaborate curtsey before her.

“What is this, Mr Hamilton? You made no mention of this!” Evelyn lifted her chin and scowled at him. “If I may correct you, my dear Mrs Campbell”—he leant forward resting his arms upon his legs—“I made no specification of details. I merely told you that I was aware of your situation and offered you a way to earn some money. You seemed keen enough.” He shrugged. “You didn’t ask for particulars.”

Evelyn blinked hard as she glared at him. She could not argue with the truth. His offer had been most generous and she really hadn’t any alternative. She’d even reasoned that it would be better to be with Nate, with a man she had loved and been intimate with. Better that than sell herself to a rotten toothed miner who’d paw at her body and rob her of her self- respect. At least that was what she’d thought. But here was Nate, stealing that same self- respect away from her, intent upon humiliating her for his own pleasure. Well she would not let him see how hurt she was. Clearly the man she had known and loved was gone, his love and compassion evaporated by the harsh sunlight like the morning dew on the arid landscape. She slammed the door. There was no going back.

©Depositphotos/ eaniton

©Depositphotos/ eaniton

“So what do you want me to do?” She threw her shawl away from her and unbuttoned her jacket then flung it after the shawl. Nate stared at her, eyebrows raised. The soiled dove gave a harsh laugh then returned to her position at Nate’s side and snuggled into him, entwining a shapely leg around his. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, staring all the while at Evelyn’s face.

So he was playing games. Did he want to get revenge by hurting her?

She pushed down her skirt and kicked it away then she let down her hair. Nate eyed her with the hunger of a starving man, from her cotton bloomers to the flimsy chemise above her corset. She shivered under the intensity of his gaze but she flicked her hair over her shoulders and pushed her chest out. She would show him all that she was—all that she had to give. She would not shy away from his lust. There’d been a time, during their youth, when she’d been apprehensive about undressing in front of him but with his love and tenderness she’d soon been reassured and had even become quite brazen with him. But she’d been so sure of him then, so convinced that he loved her and would never hurt her. This was different.

She was dragged roughly back to the present as the harlot moaned and she watched in horror as Nate allowed the whore to slide his hand into the top of her chemise, whilst she pulled his other hand up to her face and began to suck on his fingers.

Stood in the middle of the room in her underwear and boots, watching the man she had loved being touched and kissed by another woman, Evelyn was consumed with hurt and jealousy. It made her heart pound, and anger burned hot in her belly.

©Depositphotos/ konradbak

©Depositphotos/ konradbak

“Mrs Campbell,” his voice was almost a whisper, “come over here.”

Not knowing what else she could do, though she longed to turn and run from the room, Evelyn obeyed. Nate reached out to her and pulled her down onto his knee, wrapping his arm around her waist. The whore moved her leg away but kept Nate’s hand upon her breast. Evelyn fought the urge to jump up and flee when the whore threw her head back and reached down to her crotch where she rubbed against the thin cloth of her bloomers, arching her hips up towards her own touch.

“Do you like this, Evelyn?” Nate’s voice was husky. She didn’t trust herself to answer. The whore increased her pace upon herself and began gyrating in ecstasy. Evelyn watched Nate as he eyed the girl. A sigh escaped his lips when the girl reached under her bloomers and continued rubbing at her pussy, faster and faster until she shuddered suddenly and violently, then opened her feline eyes to smile at her audience.

©Depositphotos/ konradbak

©Depositphotos/ konradbak

Evelyn stared at the girl in shock. How could she be so wanton? The whore seemed to read Evelyn’s mind and she pushed her chemise down to expose small pert breasts then flung her head back as Nate squeezed at a rosy nipple. Her bloomers clung to her damp groin, evidence of her recent climax, and Evelyn’s eyes were glued to the outline of the soiled dove’s sex. Though her mouth was dry and her palms clammy, Evelyn had to admit that she was aroused. But the conflicting emotions threatened to burst out of her in a flurry of tears and violence. She wanted to scratch at her rival for stealing away Nate’s attention yet she knew that it was not the girl’s fault. She, like Evelyn, was doing what she was paid to do. She would not allow Nate to see her jealousy, her pain.

Leaning in towards him she pressed her lips against his jaw. His scent was so familiar and so good that tears sprang into her eyes and her desire for him twitched deep within her. She had loved this man with every fibre of her being, yet she had married another and she wondered now at how much her actions had hurt him. If he had only sent word to her, reassured her of his health, success and imminent return, she would have held on…but she’d had too much to lose. She’d been forced to make a choice under duress and the offer had been open only for a very limited time. What else could she have done?

A lone tear trickled down her cheek as she sought out his lips, but he turned his face away from her and her lips landed instead upon his dark hair.

“No, Mrs Campbell, I will not kiss you. The time for such tenderness is long gone.”

He pulled his arm away from the whore and Evelyn jumped in shock as he squeezed her full breast hard then ripped her chemise down and found the erect nub, tweaking it roughly as he had the whore’s. He rolled his thumb and forefinger over the hard nub and rubbed at the surrounding pale pink circle and the action caused an exquisite flicker deep inside her as if her breasts and cunny were linked. He tugged at her erect nipple and pinched it but the pain was delicious as it fired her longing for him, reigniting a side of her that she had hidden for a decade.
It had been so long.

A groan escaped her and it seemed to spur him on, the rolling and rubbing grew harder and she fought the urge to beg him to move his hand between her legs to offer her the sweet release that he was so capable of doing. Her pussy throbbed, the silken folds moist with desire. She knew that she should push his hand away, pull away from him and run from the room—she was a respectable woman, a mother and a widow—but she knew that she would not, for though his touch was rougher, his eyes harder, her yearning for him pulsed through her even more powerfully than before.


So did you enjoy the excerpt? Tell me what you think by 29th September and you’ll be entered to win a copy of the novella.

Molly xxx

Cowboys and Corsets

I, for one, adore cowboys and corsets. In both of the Western historical novels I’ve written so far, cowboys and corsets feature heavily.

In this post, I’m going to focus on cowboys but I’ll follow it up soon with a post about corsets. (If you want a preview, check out my post Why We Love the Corset at Butterfly Corsets?)

So what is it about cowboys?

I think that a childhood spent with my amazing little Granny and her own fascination with the Wild West probably started it all. We’d sit and eat hot strawberry jam toasties on a Saturday afternoon, whilst watching the likes of John Wayne, Kirk Douglas and Clint Eastwood swagger across the screen of a tiny portable television. Their arrogance and pride, their chaps and Stetsons and their love of the land all hooked me right there and then. They were respectful towards women (usually) and they would bare knuckle fight anyone who insulted their own woman or family.

©Depositphotos/ vanell

©Depositphotos/ vanell

Now, even as a child, I knew that they were acting but it opened a whole new world to me, one where men were chivalrous and masculine with integrity and a thirst for justice. Growing up in the Welsh valleys, the Wild West was a complete contrast and I became fascinated by the wild and rugged landscape and the men who sought to tame it.

My western novels are set in the 1800s. I’m addicted to historical romances and historical novels and I love reading about different times. I’m always thinking ‘what if…’ when I read and write and I like to consider how my characters would have coped with the challenges of day to day life back then, as well as how they’d behave when faced with love and loss. Romance novels require a strong, honourable and sexy hero and cowboys epitomise this. These heroes are brave, deep and honest. They don’t want any trouble but if it finds them, they face it with courage and they stick to their principles – and their guns! 😉 They also have deep dark eyes, broad toned shoulders, thick muscular thighs and abs to die for… but I have to give the heroine (and my lovely reader) a bit of what she fancies!

©Depositphotos/ artem-furman

©Depositphotos/ artem-furman

Add to these qualities an air of mystery and independence, and what more could you wish for? The cowboy often has a past that would make many lesser men break down but he bears it admirably and he doesn’t harp on about how hard he’s had it. It might mean that he has a secret vulnerability that only the heroine can soothe and when he does ‘open up’, it’s a beautiful and sensitive moment. His desire for independence means that he works his land and he cares for his animals, he has the means to support himself and his family and he doesn’t need anyone or anything else. In fact, he doesn’t give a damn what others think. In a society where we deal constantly with job insecurities, rising living costs and are relentlessly bombarded by the message that we need to be better in all areas of our lives, it’s no wonder that the cowboy hero is so appealing.

And why’s that? I hear you ask. Go on, remind me!

He’ll gallop in on his horse, scoop you up in his arms and seat you on the saddle in front of him, then carry you back to his homestead where he’ll make love to you in his rough and ready, yet extremely sensual way and offer you your Happy Ever After (in more ways than one) as only a cowboy can.

©Depositphotos/ konradbak

©Depositphotos/ konradbak

Why not participate in my poll and give your opinion about who the sexiest heroes are?

Molly xxx

Thursday Fun – Add a caption!

Fancy some writing inspiration?

How about add the caption to this photo of one of my bearded dragons? What exactly is going on here?

His name’s Andrew, by the way! 🙂


Go on! Post your caption in the comments. Let’s all have a giggle!

Molly xxx

The Immortality of Significance

I wrote this poem when I was at university. It summed up a lot about me then and I guess it still does now.

The Immortality of Significance

From where does the loneliness come
After the partying stops?
In the moments of solitude
When we crave freedom from company
Yet hate to be alone.

Sharp reality strikes a despairing blow;
Our frail bodies yield their realities.
We are mortal…feathers tossed about on the winds of life
Insignificant yet desiring the immortality of significance.

We gather together in groups and try to bond,
Find similar interests and laugh together in a futile hope for invincibility…

I want to hear the music again and dance,
It is a temporary escape from the burden of knowledge.

Molly Ann Wishlade

©Depositphotos/ sborisov

©Depositphotos/ sborisov

So What Happens Next? Post-release angst! :-0

So Desire in Deadwood is out there and…what happens next?


Well, I’ve a WIP which I’m currently polishing (Harlot at the Homestead – another historical western) in the hope that it will find a contract and I’ve another WIP on the backburner ready to be completed.

But I’m unsettled!

©Depositphotos/ dmitryzubarev

©Depositphotos/ dmitryzubarev

I’m watching the WWW constantly to track the progress of my debut novella. It’s a strange feeling and a strange place to be. First, came submission. Nail biting. Stomach churning. Then came contract. Yippee! At last! Followed by edits, which were enjoyable because I found a fab editor who guided me along an unfamiliar path. Then came pre-release followed by general release.

I didn’t expect a fanfare…I’ve had some great reviews…but is it selling? Oh the angst!

I’d read about this phase before I even received a contract but I didn’t really think about how it would feel. But here I am…living the reality. Living the dddrrreeeaaammm….

I’ve enjoyed being on some fabulous blogs thanks to some lovely authors and reviewers and it’s truly wonderful, fabulous, AMAZING seeing my novella for sale on lots of websites.

BUT…I’ve found the Amazon Sales Rank checker!!! (UH OH!)

I’m surprised it hasn’t already blocked me for persistence! Have you ever been on this site? It tells you where your book is compared to other books and how many copies you’ve sold via

I can’t look! But I did! Oh…dear…

So what happens next?

I’m going to keep writing and keep dreaming. I’m going to persevere. It’s one thing I’m really good at.
I certainly don’t feel like giving up! Oh no! Not my style!

Puffy eyed and confidence a little dented, I’ll flutter my author wings and skip on my rather tiny author feet and carry on.

©Depositphotos/ majorgaine

©Depositphotos/ majorgaine

That’s what happens next!

Molly xxx

…who yeez gonna call?… Blogbusters!… the BUILDING-THE-PLATFORM journey thus far… #TBSU…

Learn from the master!!! 😉

Seumas Gallacher

…it always starts with something kinda wee… ye know like when ye try tearing off just a wee corner of the wallpaper that’s sticking out and annoying ye?…next thing ye know, half the room’s been stripped… or have yeez ever tried eating just onePringle?… impossible, right?… trickles to rivulets, rivulets to streams, streams to rivers, rivers to massive waterways… the correlation to writers BUILDING THE PLATFORM is profound… the phrase, by the way, Mabel, is used by the quill-scraping cognoscenti to denote all the WURK ye undertake to get yerself and yer masterpieces ‘known’, usually on the great labrynth, Internet… it means pawning yer life and every waking nano-second to attachment to the SOSYAL NETWURKIN whirl… but ye have to be selective on the channels ye use… fr’example, this ol’ Jurassic is curtailed to Twitter, Facebook, (Jail an’ all), Goodreads, LinkedIn and THE BLOG… a man…

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Summer of Love

Summer 2013 was the Summer of Love but not, perhaps, in the way you might be thinking.

My husband’s grandfather’s British bulldog gave birth to four puppies!


What does that have to do with love? I hear you ask.

Well, we fell head over heels in love with the gorgeous babies and we have spent every spare minute there helping out. It’s not just the fact that his grandfather is 78 that has taken us there – although that factored into it enormously. It was also due to the fact that the puppies (and their mum) are such funny, sweet and adorable bundles of fur.


Bulldogs are a breed that I wasn’t previously familiar with but they are great family pets and really bright and inquisitive dogs. They like to interact with humans but they also – at times – exude an air of superiority which suggests that they will listen to what their owner says but not always take heed. Each dog has its own distinct personality and there is a big difference between the males and females. The latter tend to be gentler and more affectionate whereas the males tend to be bursting with mischief and a desire to be involved in EVERYTHING!!!


The puppies are almost six weeks old now and will soon head off to their new homes. It will leave my husband and I broken hearted to see them go because we’d dearly love to home them (and several rescue dogs) ourselves but fulltime employment means that it wouldn’t be fair on the dogs.


Like all canine companions, bulldogs need their owners around to comfort and entertain them. If you’re lucky enough to have one or more, then I’m sure you’ll agree with me when I say that they are a great breed of dog and that they make wonderful additions to any family home.


For now, my DH and I will have to hold onto the memories of the summer of love and hope that one day we can have our very own baby bulldog to adore.