Guest Author: Helena Harker


Thanks for hosting me! My second erotic short story is out! It’s by Secret Cravings Publishing. I have to say that one of the things I found hard to get used when it came to writing erotica is…the cover art!!!! I’ve written several books for teens, so when I got the cover for this story my first reaction was: Oh my God, I hope my mother doesn’t see this!

I filled out a cover art form with some basic information about the story. Although I paint a lot (I have lots of murals in my house, like a beach in the kitchen and the Mediterranean in my living-room, a cloudy sky in my bedroom), I don’t think of myself as someone that has any kind of design skills. I really think the cover artists are professionals in their field and know what they’re doing far more than I do. So I filled out something boring like: man and woman looking into each other’s eyes and an airplane in the background. That was my concept.

When I got the cover for “A Flight of Fantasy” it came along with an e-mail that said something along the lines of: “I know this isn’t what you asked for in the cover art form, but….” And when I opened the JPEG, it was a shocker! I have to say that I was happy the cover artist gave my information a new interpretation. She definitely captured the eroticism of the story. I mean, don’t you think this cover is HOT???? And she got the idea of everything taking place on the airplane by adding a porthole. Great idea! So Dawné Dominique did a fantastic job! I can’t wait to see what she does with my next Secret Cravings story, which will be out in January.

Helena Harker




Buy link:

Blurb: On her way to a romance writers’ conference, Caroline is listening to the latest erotic bestseller on her cell phone. When she drops the phone before walking through the airport metal detector, all the passengers around her get to hear an explicit excerpt from Raw Passions, and they’re shocked. Except for Jack, the stranger who picks up her phone and is eager to start a conversation. They immediately connect, and as they wait for the plane to take off, they text each other, creating a steamy storyline that Caroline plans to weave into her next novel.


“Alexia grabbed Edward’s shirt and pulled him on top of her. Slipping her fingers under the fabric, she dragged her nails from his shoulders to his lower back, deliciously aware of the taut muscles rippling in response to her touch. His skin smelled of leather and freshly cut hay. Bits of straw poked through the blanket she’d placed on the floor of the empty stall. A breeze wafted from the open stable door, cooling her bare legs. Edward’s lips found her breasts. He kissed them gently, then hungrily, making her whimper. Locking her ankles around his waist, she opened herself to him and curled her fist around the length of his cock.”

Someone nudged my elbow, jolting me from the audiobook version of Raw Passions, Erica Collins’ latest erotic novel. Disoriented, I looked up. The airport security guard glared at me and snapped, “Ma’am!”

“Sorry!” The novel droned on in my ear buds. “This is pure bliss, Alexia thought, closing her eyes as his cock entered her wet slit. Edward liked to start at a slow, steady rhythm, letting the passion build. He compared lovemaking to feeding a fire, nurturing a tiny spark until it flared into a blaze that —”

“Your watch. Your shoes.” The guard frowned deeply, both black brows knitting together. “Do you have a laptop?”

He pushed a plastic tray in front of me and I slipped off my three-inch red pumps with the decorative metal bands at the toe. Bad choice for the trip, but I wanted to look my best when I arrived at the romance writers conference. Besides, they were the only pair of shoes that matched my brand new business jacket and over-the-knee skirt.

Thickset and broad-shouldered, the security guard probably used to work as a bouncer in a bar. Or he competed as a cage fighter. Yes, a cage fighter! That explained the hook in his nose. And the tattoo peeking from his shirt cuff. One of the inevitable consequences of being a novelist—well, an aspiring novelist—was spending an inordinate amount of time inventing the histories of people I ran into. My imagination was about as easy to stop as a herd of stampeding horses.

The guard scowled. Why couldn’t airport security personnel be pleasant every now and then? I deposited my carry-on next to the X-ray machine and removed my laptop, careful not to get tangled in the wire that led from my earpieces to the phone I’d stuffed into my pocket. I prepared to walk through the metal detector.

“Excuse me,” the guard said gruffly, tapping his left ear and pointing at me.

My phone. “Sorry,” I mumbled again, embarrassed at being so absent-minded, suddenly aware that several passengers had joined the line behind me. Blame Erica Collins’ sizzling prose for my lack of attention. Digging into my pocket, I searched for the off button, hitting the volume button instead, but, of course, in the wrong direction. Alexia’s heated cries blasted my eardrums. I yanked the phone out and it slipped from my grasp. Oh, shit no, no, no, no, no! The wire that joined my ear buds to my cell phone disconnected and the phone tumbled across the rubber mat and through the metal detector.


I inhaled a sharp breath. Break apart. Please shatter into little pieces. Cell phones always broke when they hit the ground, didn’t they?

Not this one. After the metal detector quieted, every single person around me heard an excerpt from Erica’s latest steamy release.

“Edward thrust his cock into her balls-deep and she convulsed in pleasure, throwing back her head and moaning. ‘Harder, Edward, fuck me harder!’”

My face burned. I ran toward the phone, spluttering apologies.

“Ma’am! Stay on the other side!” a female security guard warned, holding up her hand.

I froze. “But! But! I…” What are you waiting for? Why don’t you pick it up and turn it off! The guard stared at my phone as if it might morph into a striking cobra.

“Their bodies moved in sync, her soft curves melting into his hard muscular body.”

People were looking at me. Staring. Wide-eyed. In shock. Oh, God, I want to die. I’d be happy for Cage-Fighter Guy to haul me off to a detention room if it meant being away from all these persecuting eyes. Everybody thought I was some kind of pervert who got off on cheap porn.

Then I saw him, the man who went through the metal detector ahead of me.

My Books at:
New Releases
Subscribe to Viki’s Blog

Enter your email address:

Delivered by FeedBurner

Find Me On

Subscribe to Newsletter

Recent Posts
Get a free Authorgraph from Viki Lyn