Wednesday, January 31, 2007

The first official review of The Boundaries: Agent is in and (drumroll) FIVE ANGELS!!! WhooHoo!!!

Here's a snippet from the review...

"This deadly triangle plays out in an amazingly erotic byplay. With secrets untold, sexual slavery, and a werewolf, you wouldn’t think that these disparate things could be meshed into a story, but Lexxie Couper does it. The sheer heat generated by any of the characters in almost any interaction is amazing. This is the second book in a series and having not read the first, I was a bit lost, but after the first few pages I was able to figure out what was going on and was grabbed and held by the story. The ending is something you will have to read to believe. I cannot wait for The Boundaries: Animal."

A huge thank you to Serena and Fallen Angels Reviews.

Check out the entire review Here

And buy the book Here - Go on... I DARE Ya!!!!


Thursday, January 25, 2007

Lexxie and the Pirates and Deviant-Boy
(A Completely Fabricated Story of Destiny)

Part 2

As Told by Lexxie Couper

Warning - Contains Adult Sexual Content That May Offend

Lexxie and the Pirates and Deviant-Boy
A Story of Destiny

As Told by Lexxie Couper

You know what it’s like to crash into the ocean?
No, me either. Captain Schlong and I crashed into a copse of palm and eucalypt trees. None of that romantic dragging ourselves out of the surf, wet clothes clinging to our nubile bodies like a transparent second skin. No, we dragged ourselves from a beat-up Cessna 340 amid splintered trees, severed leaves and twisted metal. There is nothing romantic about crashing onto a deserted island, I can tell you, no matter how lush and tropical and beautiful.
We picked our way through the dense growth, swatting at mozzies and wiping at the stinging sweat dripping from our faces. This is not, as I’ve pointed out before, how I like to get hot and sweaty, and at this point of the situation I wasn’t sure which pathetic male I detested the most: Captain Schlong for not being able to keep his dick in his pants, or my moronic cousin for laying the challenge in the first place. The idea of detesting myself didn’t enter my mind; sure I had picked my pilot based on the sizable bulge in his Levi’s but what women in her right mind wouldn’t? The dawn of feminism wasn’t just about burning bras! It was empowerment! About equality! It was about perving on hunky male bodies whenever we damn well wanted! And yes, I had accepted my cousin’s challenge when I didn’t need to. I didn’t need to prove him wrong to feel good about myself, but – and it will always be my failing – I cannot, as I’ve said, resist a challenge. This one was just turning out to be more of a challenge than first intended.
It didn’t help that Wonder-Dick was still trying to convince me his cock was the only hope of rescue. To this day, I’m not sure how he thought fucking me would get us out of our hideous predicament. Perhaps he thought my screams of ecstasy would be so loud the Australian Coast Guard would hear and come a-running (or a-boating, as the case is). Whatever his logic, I still had my glock and there wasn’t a ten foot pole in sight, so he was out of luck.
It was while attempting to climb over one particularly vicious fallen eucalypt trunk, the Cessna’s burning corpse baking our backs, that the day took it’s third bad turn. I tripped.
So there I was, sprawled over a dead tree larger than Godzilla’s donger, my ass shoved upwards, wet white short-shorts plastered to it, my feet dangling off the ground and – and this is where it gets worrying, Dear Readers – Captain Schlong standing right behind me.
“Awright!” I heard him shout, two seconds before I heard his fly unzip.
There was no denying it. I was in trouble.
“Oi!” I snarled, trying like hell to regain my feet in a lethally intimidating move and instead coming off like a scuttling bug stuck on a twig. “This is NOT an invitation!”
Wonder-dick however, didn’t seem to be listening.
I had two options. Twist around and shoot him (I still held my glock, fortunately, and the idea was very tempting), or go with the flow. As I’ve already pointed out, the guy was hung like a hippo. Hopefully he’d pass out from the rapid loss of blood in his brain before I’d even get a nudge. My grip on my gun tightened. I was going with Option A.
I twisted around, still doing my very realistic stuck-bug impersonation and leveled the gun at his heaving, naked and sweaty chest. “Listen, Mate,” I narrowed my eyes, “Take one more step and I –“
And that was when the dead tree moved.
With a loud and sharp splintering crack.
Damn it!
I hit the ground in a painful thud, Captain Schlong lost his footing (yeah, right) and landed on my back, his freakish cock ramming against my butt like a jack hammer on steroids, and somewhere off in the distance a Kookaburra burst into hysterical laughter.
Oh, and I dropped my glock.


Wednesday, January 24, 2007


This Friday is Australia Day in the Land Down Under (it's the day we celebrate the birth of our nation) and, being the proud Aussie I am, I want to celebrate and bring some of my love for Australia to the rest of the world.

So I'm having an impromptu CONTEST!!!

I've written three books set in Australia... The winner of my AUSTRALIA DAY CONTEST will receive ALL THREE in what ever format they wish.

To win, this is what you have to do....

1. Go to HERE!!
2. Tell me the title of the three books set in the Land Down Under
3. Answer the following questions about each book (hint - you'll need to click on the excerpt links to find the answers)... a/ What does Tellerman scale? b/ What is it Ira's right to do? c/ What woke Tess?

Email me your answers by midnight Sunday 28th - subject Australia Day Contest. The first name I draw from the dog's bowl WINS!!!!

Happy reading and Happy Australia Day! *grin*

Monday, January 22, 2007

A Creative Eruption

They’d chained her.
Silver shackles on her ankles and wrists.
They’d chained her spread-eagle on the dais, stripped naked and exposed for all to see.
In’ari R’Orq stared at the ceiling, the blood in her veins feeling very much like liquid heat coursing through her body. How dare they!
She pulled at the chains, the silver burning her flesh like a concentrated beam of sun-like – scorching, scalding. Branding.
Rage surged through her and she snarled, the sound cutting the thick silence. How dare they!
She closed her eyes and drew in a slow breath, focussing on her core. She needed to think if she was to survive, and she didn’t plan on dying just yet. Not after three hundred years of defying her enemies. She was too young.
Pulling the freshest memory into her mind, she narrowed down on it, another wave of fury rolling through her at the vivid image.
That deceptive, blood-sucking nightwalker!
The vamp had lured her from the club. The vamp with the black eyes and white hair who’d been in her dreams for what seemed like a lifetime. Had lured her from the club where she’d been staring into an untouched margarita, into the open night, his tongue and lips and hands driving her wild with a lust she didn’t know existed. Never had she felt so aware of her body, of the pulsing muscles between her thighs, of the tiny nub of flesh buried in the slick folds of her cunt. She’d thought he was a dream until his teeth sank into her neck. A dream brought on by loneliness and vigilance and denial. A dream of the forbidden. Then his fangs had punctured her flesh and she’d felt warm liquid gush from her jugular into his masterful mouth, felt the velvet rasp of his tongue lapping her blood, felt the painful yet oh, so exquisite pressure as he suckled her life-force.
Her mind had screamed. Her cunt had constricted. She’d cried out – in livid rage and perfidious rapture - and that was when the other vamps closed in. Three of them. Oozed from the shadows of the moonless night like pale phantoms and took her. Their hands joining his on her body, squeezing her pleasure-swollen breasts, cupping her ass-cheeks, mauling her fluttering, sodden pussy.
She couldn’t fight them all.
Even as the wolf inside her roared for release, the lead vamp – that black-eyed, fallacious bastard – sank his fangs in deeper. Locked her to him as surely as the silver shackles held her to the dais now.
Locked her to him in more than one way.
A chill rippled through In’ari. Pinched her nipples into rock-hard, painful tips. They were creatures of opposite species – she and the black-eyed vampire – but she knew his species well. Knew them, hunted them. Killed them. As all Master-Hunters did, she knew everything about them, which meant, the second his fangs punctured her neck and he began to feast on her oxygen-rich blood, she knew he was not after her life. He was not killing her. He was binding her. To him. Owner to property. Master to Slave.
She’d been caught by a Master and now she was the property of his nest.
And with the silver shackles on her wrists and ankles, there was nothing she could do to stop them doing whatever they wanted to her.
Her cunt fluttered at the dark thought. Fluttered with even darker greed.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

A New Object of Lust

Well, not so much a new one.... but after having a Colin Firth-A-Thon last night (Love Actually, Bridget Jones's Diary I and II and Fever Pitch) I've realised he reeeeeeeally needs to be at the top of my Lust-List (a very decadent and wholly shameful list of men I'd do wicked things to at the drop of a hat).

There are two reasons: One - he is drop dead, utterly gorgeous
Two - he looks just like my husband (and I'm not exaggerating! If Colin Firth was Spanish and had a goatee, he could be mistaken for my husband...)

So, there you go. Colin Firth. The most gorgeous, sexy and utterly oh-my-God-I want-to-do-wicked-things-to-him man on the planet.

That's all.

Friday, January 05, 2007

Lexxie and the Pirates and Deviant-Boy

As Told by Lexxie Couper
(A Completely Fabricated Tale About A Meeting of Destiny)
Warning - Contains Content That May Offend Some People


I can never resist a challenge. EVER. So when my cousin, a man of dubious intelligence (OK, let's be blunt, we are after all, all friends here – the man is a complete and utter moron. Wouldn't know his dick from a banana if his dick wasn't pink and attached to his body) tells me I couldn't hack two days in the tropics I told him to stick it up his ass. I'm not much of a humidity fan I must admit; I like getting hot and sweaty in more enjoyable ways, but at that accusation from that man I promptly packed an overnight bag and chartered myself a flight to Far North Queensland. It don't get any hotter and sweatier than up the top end of Oz, (unless it's between my sheets!) and I was on my way.

Who knew the flight would crash off the coast of Tropical Queensland? Who knew the pilot in whose hands I'd placed my life was a raving nutter? Who knew he had an enormous cock? Well, OK, I knew that last bit, you couldn't miss the massive bulge straining against his skin-tight Levis, but I didn't know he had a penchant for pulling it out and flopping it about in mid-flight! Honest!!

Anyway, here I am, 20,000 feet above the Pacific with this guy and his enormous cock. My overnight bag contains a can of aerosol deodorant (Exotic Musk), my favourite lip-gloss (Vanilla-Cherry), a nail file (I can't abide chipped nails), a packet of double-choc Tim-Tams (for sustenance) and a Glock 9mm (for emergencies). It did not contain a ten-foot pole and that's about the only thing of mine that was going near this guy's cock. Do you think he'd listen to reason, though? Of course not! He's a man after all. A man with a hard-on does not listen to reason. A man with a hard-on does not listen to "I'm going to kill you if you don't put that thing away", at least NOT this man. It may have had something to do with the amount of blood required to fill his cock. Too much had drained from his deluded brain for him to understand my subtle rejection. So it was time to stop being subtle and start being direct.

I pulled my Glock, he pulled his cock and before I knew it we were headed straight for the water. Fast. In a tailspin.

This was not how I'd planned my day.

Lexxie ©

Well, one of my books is...

Shifting Lust 2: The Warlord's Vengeance (the middle book in the Shifting Lust trilogy) has been nominated for a CAPA Award for Best Fantasy - Erotic.

The CAPA Awards are... "awards given by The Romance Studio for excellence in romantic and erotic fiction." Pretty cool, huh! I'm still blown away by the nomination. The Warlord's Vengeance is a very dark book. Both hero and heroine are separated and in the hands of two of the most evil and depraved creatures of power in the Six Systems: a Priestess who worships an evil God and a warlord who would make the Devil look like a cuddly kitten. The sex is pretty violent and the ending is an absolute cliff-hanger. Not the kind of book I'd have thought would get nominated for ANYTHING (except maybe most frustrating ending) but there it is... a CAPA Nomination. See the image? Isn't it great!!

Here's a little snippet...

Raiven a’Tor gripped the butt of his gun beneath the cover of his long, leather jacket, watching the slim woman with shaggy, white hair cross The Tight Hole’s crowded floor. His eyes roamed her body, cock twitching at what he saw. Long, smooth thighs, flat stomach, pert breasts that bounced lightly with each step she took. The shiny black, body-hugging suit covering her from neck to toes did little to hide the fact it was a body made for sin.

Midnight-black eyes met his across the busy inn and he gripped his gun. Worry swam in their inky depths. Worry and agitation. His building erection forgotten, he frowned. Something wasn’t right.

He made a move to get up but she shook her head. Slightly. No.

Raiven pulled in a deep breath, muscles coiled so tight he felt sure they would snap. Three months of being hunted by Mur’dek’s forces was beginning to take its toll. On his body and his mind. Kyra kept him sane. If it weren’t for her, he would have lost it by now. And the six systems would be a bloodier place for it.

He shot his lover a quick look, noticing she’d changed direction. No longer headed toward him, she instead approached the inn’s long, crowded bar, hips swaying. Anger rolled through him. Not because of the abrupt change in their plans -- they’d been on the run together long enough now to trust each other’s actions -- but because of the way every male she passed turned to leer at her ass. Jaw clenched, he watched a particularly large Jaxian reach out with one lower arm and curl fat, meaty fingers into her upper thigh.

Get your fucking hands off her. The urge to smash the bastard’s face in was compelling, but Raiven didn’t move. Kyra didn’t want anyone to know they were together, so for the moment, he stayed still. No matter how much he hated it.

The Jaxian tugged Kyra closer, upper hands running over her torso and ass as his free lower hand snaked around her wrist. “C’mon sit on me lap, lovely,” Raiven heard him coax from across the room. “I’ve got somethin’ right hard for ya.”

Raiven snarled, but before he could get to his feet, Kyra spun, smashing her knee into the Jaxian’s leering face. Head snapping backward, he toppled to the filthy floor, his drinking companion laughing uproariously as Kyra stepped over his crumpled form and went on her way.

She glanced over her shoulder and for a brief moment, their eyes made contact. Raiven smiled slightly. Show-off.

Her answering grin was almost undetectable as she turned to the bar, sliding in between a hulking Lunarian merchant and a wiry Palon. Slipping her arm around the Lunarian’s shoulder, she tangled her fingers in his greasy hair and pulled his head down to hers. Kissing him deeply.

Raiven’s stomach turned upside-down but he didn’t move because just as Kyra’s open lips slid over the Lunarian’s, two Murukhan soldiers stepped into the inn, yellow eyes flicking around the crowded room.


He shot a quick look at Kyra. She was still lip-locked to the Lunarian, her slim frame all but concealed by his heavy jacket as he mashed her closer against his body.

Gut a tight mess, Raiven slowly returned his gun to its holster and pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck. It was possible the Murukhans had no knowledge of the large bounty Lord Mur’dek had placed on his and Kyra’s heads. Possible, but unlikely. It was time to get out of there.

He gave the two soldiers a quick look. They were still on the other side of the packed inn, shoving their way through the crowd. Grabbing every female they encountered and staring hard at her face.

Raiven scowled. Guess that clears that up.

He slid from his dark booth and with one last glance at Kyra -- still thoroughly kissing the Lunarian -- stepped into the crowd and made his way to the back rooms. In the last sex den there was an exit to a back alley that ran directly past the bunker where the Raptor, finally repaired after their last Murukhan encounter, waited. His gut twisted again. Hopefully, Kyra would make her own way there.

If she didn’t, he’d go back and get her.

Just a lot more people would die in the process.

Want to read more? Shifting Lust 2: The Warlord's Vengeance - HERE!!!!


Lots a warm fuzzies,