January 3, 2013

Music: the Food of Lust @lilliangrantaus #rlfblog

Hot Male

Lillian Grant, welcome to Romance Lives Forever. Tell us about your book, Hot Male.
Genre: Erotic Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
Buy Links:
Liquid Silver Books: http://lsbooks.com/lillian-grant-c161.php
Amazon http://amzn.com/B004F8XS84/

People often ask what inspires me to write. The answer is odd things, strange things, and sometimes bizarre things. An idea can arrive at the most inopportune moment and can be set off by a random thought. As a teenager I had a friend who had a flasher living across the street from her. Being pubescent girls we found the whole thing rather fascinating but it got old quickly. This memory came back to me as I was contemplating my neighbor, the local Avon lady, and wondering if she had ever watched Edward Scissorhands… and so my book, Go With the Flo was born. A heroine trying to emulate Peg Boggs and find her Edward Scissorhands ends up playing private eye in an attempt to find a missing flasher. Now aren’t you glad you can’t see what else is hiding inside my head?
Anyway, I digress. I do that a lot. Back to the topic at hand. I love music. Other then when I’m at the day job I rarely exist in silence. When I decided to write Hot Male about the dark haired, dark eyed, sexy male Irish stripper that played a bit part in Male Order and Male Review, I started the book in the middle. I had an idea to carry it on from where Male Review left off. Then I was driving to work one morning and the first few sultry notes of Gary Moore’s Parisienne Walkways wailed out of my CD player and I knew what was missing. I had an idea to write a short freebie that showed Michael doing a very slow and sexy strip to this song, but once it was written I wasn’t so sure. It was steamy as hell. I needed a cigarette after it was done and I don’t even smoke, but where on earth did it fit? I sent the prologue to Jennifer Hassani at Liquid Silver Books and asked for her opinion. She read it, found the song on You Tube, and told me this was no freebie, this belonged at the start of Hot Male. So after an extensive rewrite the very long and very sexy life of Michael Monaghan was born. It’s the biggest thing I have ever written, and Michael asked why I ever doubted he would be my biggest.
So now to the verdict. Once you’ve read it you tell me, would you love to see this scene played out in real life? I know I would!


One man. One sensual dance. One night only to prove his love.
Michael wants Maggie. Maggie has Sam. Two’s company, three’s a crowd.
Years ago, Maggie tried to seduce Michael Monaghan, only to have her efforts rebuffed. Now she’s older, wiser, happily in love with Sam Stephens, and determined to keep her distance from Michael.
Michael Monaghan, hot male stripper, has all manner of women falling at his feet, except Maggie. All he can do is watch from afar as Sam Stephens wins the heart of the one woman he really wants.
Sam Stephens is just tired of Michael watching Maggie’s every move.
Now there’s trouble with a capital T! Maggie’s Great-Aunt Maud has run off to Ireland with Michael’s Uncle Declan. Maggie needs to get to Aunt Maud and talk some sense into her before Declan’s gun-totting wife catches up with them. With Michael and Maggie off to Ireland together, Sam isn’t about to be left behind.
Tracking down the runaway lovers is complicated by the coldest winter in Dublin in years. With Michael, Maggie and Sam stuck in a house with only one bedroom, simmering sexual tension starts to boil over.
Michael wants Maggie. Maggie isn’t sure what she wants. Sam just wants to punch Michael in the nose.
Two’s company; three could be something else altogether.
Michael Monaghan - male stripper


Shannon scowled at the glasses with the stupid colored umbrellas as Pete placed them on her tray. Thursday was her night off. They never opened on Thursdays. She had plans to visit a club in one of London's less seedy areas, and she was an exotic dancer not a fucking waitress.
Pete put the last drink down. "Table eight."
"It won't work."
He leaned on the bar and leered at her boobs before running a finger along the edge of her skimpy bikini top, teasing the edge of a barely covered nipple. "We'll see."
She shifted out of reach. Pete disgusted her, and the more she resisted the more he seemed to want her. Not that it stopped him trying to whore her out to customers. She didn't do sex for money, and she didn't do sex with Pete, period. Fortunately, she pulled a big enough crowd that he wouldn't dare get rid of her for refusing his gross seduction techniques. "Women won't pay to see men take off their clothes."
Pete glanced over her shoulder. "You want to tell them that?"
"You let them in for fucking free."
"They're paying for drinks, aren't they? Or they would be if you'd fucking deliver them. Chop, chop. The show's about to start."
"I bet you've got some ugly old bloke with shriveled bollocks who won't even flop his sad dick out."
Pete laughed. "You'll see. Now move it."
Shannon delivered the drinks with a forced smile on her face, and then scooted to the back of the room to join Lisa who was already slacking off. The brunette passed Shannon a cigarette and lit it for her before blowing smoke rings. Shannon inhaled deeply and sighed as the nicotine hit her bloodstream. "Have you seen the hired naked dick?"
Lisa shook her head. "Nope, Pete's had him under wraps. Rumor I heard was that he's foreign and he's never taken his clothes off in front of an audience before."
Shannon giggled. "Oh God, this could be a right laugh if he gets stage fright. His dick'll shrivel up. We'll need a magnifying glass to find it."
Pete came to stand behind them, and Shannonedged away as his fingers brushed her arse. The lights dimmed and the room was plunged into darkness. A hush fell over the crowd and then a deep guitar wail filled the air. A single spotlight hit the stage. Shannon's stripper pole had been transformed into a lamppost. As the strains of Gary Moore's Parisienne Walkways mesmerized the crowd a barefoot male stepped into the light, resplendent in top hat and tails, with a cane and gloves completing his ensemble. He lifted his head to reveal shoulder-length dark hair, chiseled features and full lips. He gave off an air of sexy disinterest at being the center of attention. His dark eyes scanned the crowd as he tossed the cane to someone offstage and then grabbed the lamppost with one hand and spun around in a twirl so low his hair almost brushed the timber floor.
Women yelled and whistled as he danced in front of the pole and began to remove his clothes. His hips moved in time with the music and the lamppost all but became his lover as his gloves, jacket, shirt and pants were tossed aside. He slid his hands over his body. Shannon's skin warmed and her nipples pebbled as she imagined him touching her like that.
Standing in only a top hat and G-string, he moved to the music with a grace that made Shannon catch her breath. He was six-feet tall, studly and bad boy fucking awesome. When the guitar wailed on a single note the stripper stopped, dropped his head, and held his hat in front of his crotch. The air rippled with tension and Shannon licked her lips as she wondered if he would really go the full monty. As the note ended he tugged his G-string off, and Shannon held her breath. The song and the room fell completely silent for a heartbeat, and when the guitar riff echoed around the room he flipped the hat into his right hand and rolled it up his arm to land perfectly on his head. He spread his arms wide and tipped his head back to give all the ladies an eyeful of his junk. Shannon wasn't the only one to wolf whistle.
Lisa coughed on her drink. "Fuck. He's hung like a fucking horse." She fumbled with her cigarette packet, trying to pull out another smoke, and Shannon could hardly blame her.
The song continued and he dropped his hands and lifted his head. From the low moans in the room, Shannon was sure she wasn't the only one who felt thoroughly shagged by the stranger on stage. His dark eyes locked with Shannon's. He smiled, and she swallowed as a shiver rippled up her spine and her panties dampened. "He's fucking magnificent. Who is he?"
Pete's breath warmed the back of her neck. "His name's Michael Monaghan."

Find Me Here

Website: http://lilliangrant.com
Facebook: http://facebook.com/pages/Lillian-Grant/187161274732755
Twitter: http://twitter.com/lilliangrantaus


  1. You had me with the title, LOL. Who wouldn't want to read about a hot male or two?


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