Isabella Johns
Erotic Romance
Naughty Reader’s: (tapping her arm) Isabella...Tell us a bit about yourself that our readers might not know.
Isabella: Bold with my writing, shy in person.
Naughty Reader’s: What made you want to become a writer?
Isabella: The intense desire to express my inner thoughts.
Naughty Reader’s: Please share a bit about your new release MY HOT FIREMAN without giving away any spoilers.
Isabella: MY HOT FIREMAN is about a hard-working single mom who is not interested in finding another husband and doesn’t really have the time for dating. She’d love a buddy with benefits. What starts out as an intense voyeuristic experience—as she ogles and fantasizes about the new fireman who works across the street—has the potential to evolve into the most passionate, erotic, sensual experience of her life.
Naughty Reader’s: ooooo...that sounds like it could be fun! Do you write under a pen name?
Isabella: (as she dreamily watches the firemen outside across the street) Yes...
Naughty Reader’s: What types of hero or heroine do you like best?
Isabella: As in MY HOT FIREMAN, I like a heroine who is well-defined, knows what she wants, and is not afraid to go after it.
Naughty Reader’s: Tell us about a typical day in your life as a writer.
Isabella: Breakfast, exercise, sit in front of my computer until I produce something of merit.
Naughty Reader’s: Do your books have a common theme or are they all different?
Isabella: MY HOT FIREMAN is volume 1 of the “My Hot…” series. I envision a series that depicts strong female protagonists who have an issue, conflict, or quirk they would like to work out…and it always does, happily, with a classic male fantasy figure or fantasy situation. I’m working on MY HOT MENAGE.
Naughty Reader’s: ttssss! Hot! How long does it take you to write and then edit a story?
Isabella: For a short story, at least two weeks.
Naughty Reader’s: Do you have to be alone to write?
Isabella: Not necessarily alone, but I do need peace and quiet.
Naughty Reader’s: How do you go about naming characters?
Isabella: In this series, the main female character will never be named in order to give her a universal appeal. The men will have names that have some character association. The male protagonist in MY HOT MENAGE is named Art.
Naughty Reader’s: Is it easier to write about the characters if you find pictures of them before you write or do you write then find character pictures?
Isabella: It helps a great deal when I have an imagined vision of the person, even better when it’s based on someone I know.
Naughty Reader’s: How do you pick locations for your stories?
Isabella: Something that will enhance the story. MY HOT FIREMAN is set in New York City, ideal for an anonymous encounter. In MY HOT MENAGE, the main character achieves her first orgasm at the age of 22 on a Caribbean island.
Naughty Reader’s: What prompted you to start this series?
Isabella: Whether married, alone, or dating, sometimes not much is happening in the bedroom. Writing these stories is a delicious escape for me and I hope they will be the same for the reader. If you’re alone, perhaps they will inspire you to go after all you want. If you’re dating, perhaps they will inspire some sparks in the bedroom. If you’re married (like me), reading (and writing) these stories is ABSOLUTELY NOT CHEATING! Enjoy.
Thank you all for stopping. I hope you enjoy the books. Please leave a comment about your male fantasy who you'd like to go to bed with! Who's brave?
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EXCERPT FROM MY HOT FIREMAN
by Isabella Johns
Who the fuck cares?
I literally rip off his shirt, scattering a few buttons, because I’m so eager to see and touch his masculine fineness.
Oh shit!
It’s exactly like I envisioned from my window, imagined in my bed.
So completely smooth and hairless, it’s for sure he has done some waxing of his own. And those nipples, perfectly brown and large, jutting with muscled strength.
But this is really not like my bedroom fantasies where I lay back and allowed him to have his way.
I’m a tigress set free as I break away from his mouth and attack his chest with my tongue, licking a set of wet stripes all over that sweet body.
I take the brownish nipples into my mouth and suck and his head goes back and he lets out a deep moan.
How invigorating that I can still make a man react like this.
How different his body feels compared to what I’m used to.
My ex was never fat, but his chest and stomach always had a sort of looseness, never toned.
Give toned a Google search and you’ll see Fireman Paul’s picture.
He’s a lot gentler with my blouse, which I’m grateful for, considering what I paid for it, but the results are the same and my blouse and bra soon join his shirt to form a pile on the floor.
He wants to return the favor with my nipples, but I just can’t get enough of this man. I manage to reverse our positions and soon have him pinned against the wall as I lightly rake my nails over his upper body, causing lines of full blush wherever I wander.
I lean real close to lick the peaks and valleys of his muscled abs, then trail up his chest along his left side until I come to rest by his armpit where I notice a small, short, discreetly manscaped thatch of soft brownish blond hair. I breathe as deeply as I can…as if I’ve been trapped underwater for ages and I’m finally allowed a beautiful earthly scent.
Again he makes an attempt to reciprocate—and my nipples do ache for his rough callused fingers to make them twitch—but I just can’t stop myself.
I’m on my knees, not caring if I shred my stockings, unbuckling his pants.
His head goes back, body goes limp, and I hear him say, “You’re so fucking amazing!”
I sometimes believe I am.
I can remember in college having boyfriends who thought I was a good lover and seemed to want me with an insatiable appetite.
At least that’s what I thought.
What about marriage turned me into such a dud?
The pants are soon down, off, along with his boxers and boots.
I want him completely naked, as I envisioned.
The legs are like those of a stallion. Perhaps he works out in the basement gym we heard about on the tour, or maybe all of the grunt work from his training and probie duties have sculpted this Adonis. I let my fingers cascade down the thickness of his flesh, the hairless feel of his legs causing my heart to hammer against my ribcage and my pussy to melt against the black lace.
I can’t stop kissing his robust thighs and powerful calves.
Kisses of lust. Kisses of gratefulness.
I literally rip off his shirt, scattering a few buttons, because I’m so eager to see and touch his masculine fineness.
Oh shit!
It’s exactly like I envisioned from my window, imagined in my bed.
So completely smooth and hairless, it’s for sure he has done some waxing of his own. And those nipples, perfectly brown and large, jutting with muscled strength.
But this is really not like my bedroom fantasies where I lay back and allowed him to have his way.
I’m a tigress set free as I break away from his mouth and attack his chest with my tongue, licking a set of wet stripes all over that sweet body.
I take the brownish nipples into my mouth and suck and his head goes back and he lets out a deep moan.
How invigorating that I can still make a man react like this.
How different his body feels compared to what I’m used to.
My ex was never fat, but his chest and stomach always had a sort of looseness, never toned.
Give toned a Google search and you’ll see Fireman Paul’s picture.
He’s a lot gentler with my blouse, which I’m grateful for, considering what I paid for it, but the results are the same and my blouse and bra soon join his shirt to form a pile on the floor.
He wants to return the favor with my nipples, but I just can’t get enough of this man. I manage to reverse our positions and soon have him pinned against the wall as I lightly rake my nails over his upper body, causing lines of full blush wherever I wander.
I lean real close to lick the peaks and valleys of his muscled abs, then trail up his chest along his left side until I come to rest by his armpit where I notice a small, short, discreetly manscaped thatch of soft brownish blond hair. I breathe as deeply as I can…as if I’ve been trapped underwater for ages and I’m finally allowed a beautiful earthly scent.
Again he makes an attempt to reciprocate—and my nipples do ache for his rough callused fingers to make them twitch—but I just can’t stop myself.
I’m on my knees, not caring if I shred my stockings, unbuckling his pants.
His head goes back, body goes limp, and I hear him say, “You’re so fucking amazing!”
I sometimes believe I am.
I can remember in college having boyfriends who thought I was a good lover and seemed to want me with an insatiable appetite.
At least that’s what I thought.
What about marriage turned me into such a dud?
The pants are soon down, off, along with his boxers and boots.
I want him completely naked, as I envisioned.
The legs are like those of a stallion. Perhaps he works out in the basement gym we heard about on the tour, or maybe all of the grunt work from his training and probie duties have sculpted this Adonis. I let my fingers cascade down the thickness of his flesh, the hairless feel of his legs causing my heart to hammer against my ribcage and my pussy to melt against the black lace.
I can’t stop kissing his robust thighs and powerful calves.
Kisses of lust. Kisses of gratefulness.
Thank you, Fireman Paul! I want to shout. For helping me remember this kind of living. For helping me know that all of this is still possible.
And finally I take the time to stare at his bull’s eye.
More curved than I imagined, but not one iota less beautiful.
The sight of it so rigid and hard without it even being touched—simply because of my presence, my ministrations everywhere else on his body—leaves me breathless.
It seems even more powerful and magnificent because—unlike what I had envisioned when I welcomed him into my bed—and clearly not a practice from my generation—there is not a follicle of hair anywhere, the full shaft revealed along with every curvy detail of his prized balls.
The smooth skin of his cock flowing seamlessly onto his hard creamy stomach makes it that much more princely and grand.
I kiss him there.
I kiss his cock all over.
I kiss it like it’s my long lost lover and I’m just so happy we’re in the same room again.
Is it possible to fall instantly in love with a cock?
Absofuckinlutely!
And finally I take the time to stare at his bull’s eye.
More curved than I imagined, but not one iota less beautiful.
The sight of it so rigid and hard without it even being touched—simply because of my presence, my ministrations everywhere else on his body—leaves me breathless.
It seems even more powerful and magnificent because—unlike what I had envisioned when I welcomed him into my bed—and clearly not a practice from my generation—there is not a follicle of hair anywhere, the full shaft revealed along with every curvy detail of his prized balls.
The smooth skin of his cock flowing seamlessly onto his hard creamy stomach makes it that much more princely and grand.
I kiss him there.
I kiss his cock all over.
I kiss it like it’s my long lost lover and I’m just so happy we’re in the same room again.
Is it possible to fall instantly in love with a cock?
Absofuckinlutely!
Thanks for allowing me to visit at A Naughty Reader's Boudoir. You do a great service for readers and writers.
ReplyDeleteIsabella
Thank you, Isabella! Love sharing authors with our readers - they find so many new books!
DeleteReaders, do you agree? Thanks for stopping in!
love the cover, it's gorgeous and the excerpt was sooo HOT! i look forward to reading the rest of the book. i tried to use the rafflecopter but couldn't get it to work for me (wouldn't let me log in), but wanted to say congrats on the book anyways and Happy Holidays to both of you and Tonya.
ReplyDeletetammy ramey
trvlagnt1t@yahoo.com