Victoria Blisse is a Mother, Wife, Christian, Manchester United Fan and Award Winning Erotica Authoress and all round Cheeky Wench. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco, Smut by the Sea (Vol.1), Smut by the Sea (Vol.2), Smut by the Sea (Vol.3), and Smut in the City Anthologies.

She is the mistress of Smut UK taking her World Famous Erotic Tombola & Nedd Ball’s Mucky Dip to various events or putting on her own Smut Events, Days & Evenings dedicated to erotica, socializing, fun and prizes. Check out Smut Nights, Smut by the Sea, and Smut Manchester for more info.

Born near Manchester, England, her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories along with her own particular brand of humour and romance that bring laughs and warm fuzzies in equal measure.

Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

You can often find Victoria procrastinating on Facebook , Twitter and Pinterest

To find out more check out http://victoriablisse.co.uk

Always Christmas in Lincoln

It isn’t really always Christmas in Lincoln but when Felicity gets her man it feels like it.

Felicity hates Christmas. It reminds her of a traumatic event from her childhood. She thinks the Permanent Christmas shop is tacky, with its windows full of trees and tinsel all year round and would rather it disappeared from her picturesque home town.

When she discovers that Carl, who she lusts over every time she sees him in the tea rooms, is in fact the owner of Ho, Ho, Ho! She’s not quite sure what to think. It takes a sexy meeting in the middle of a fake winter wonderland to make her realise the advantages of Christmas in the middle of summer.

As time passes, Carl and Felicity indulge in more sexy liaisons but as Christmas approaches Felicity doubts whether she is anything more than a sensual distraction for the festive shop owner and when her handsome ex, Sean, sweeps into town on a quest to win her back she finds she has a tough decision to make.

Can Carl and his Christmas cheer win over her hardened heart?

Excerpt © Victoria Blisse

I have to walk past Ho, Ho, Ho! every day and I don’t understand it. It’s the middle of July and the window is filled with Christmas trees, tinsel and snow. It’s been like that since last Christmas and will be like that next Christmas and it won’t change much in between. Funny thing is that tourists and locals alike flock to that place all year round.

They’ll laugh when they go past, maybe even exclaim their shock, but moments later they’ll be in there and, nine times out of ten, they’ll exit with a holly-patterned bag in hand. I’ve never been in. I hate Christmas at Christmas time and I sure as hell don’t want to be reminded of its existence every damn day, but to get to my quirky vintage boutique I have to walk past the place. I find it depressing.

Most people accept it because the shop used to be empty and an empty shop in Lincoln is not to be tolerated. It looked scruffy and locals did not like that one bit. I don’t count myself a local, though. I only moved into the area a year ago, from the far less glamorous Wirral. All right, so I come from Birkenhead, but thankfully I don’t have that Scouse screech – my parents brought me up a whole lot posher than that. In their world, we lived in Cheshire – after all, that’s what the postcode indicated.

I’d visited Lincoln with my mum on one of those weekend coach trips. I’d treated her for her sixtieth birthday and I’d fallen in love with the place. The cathedral is dramatic and dominant, as is the castle, and everything in between is so quaint and ‘olde worlde’. The high street is less picturesque, but I avoid going down that end of the hill as much as I possibly can.

Yes – there is no escaping the hill, I’m afraid, and many people huff and puff and come to a stop outside my window on Steep Hill, pretending to be interested in my stock when really they just want a breather before they take on the rest of the slope. I find that it works out very well for me, since many of these people actually come in and purchase something once they’ve got their breath back.

I love the range of people I meet in my little boutique. It never ceases to amaze me how many people from all over the world I have buying things in my shop on a weekly basis. I can virtually guarantee I’ll see a German, an American, someone who’s Chinese and a Scottish person every week – close to every day, in fact. Lincoln is a massively popular tourist destination.

As I opened up on that bright, sunny morning, I smiled. I loved my job. I sourced clothing from all over the country, along with jewellery and knick-knacks with a vintage feel. I get to pick and choose things I like and fill my shop with them. I don’t sell a thing that I don’t love and that makes for one very happy shopkeeper, I can tell you.

I say shop like it’s something impressive but it’s not a particularly huge one. The building is pretty ancient – not quite as old as some of the other buildings along this cobbled street, but still old enough to have been around when Shakespeare was bigger than X Factor. I felt the age of the place like a comforting blanket the first time I came to visit. I knew I wanted it the moment I walked in the door and, although small, it’s perfectly formed for what I need.

I’m lucky – my parents gave me capital to set up my business. However, I pay them back a significant sum each month and so I have to work hard to ensure I make enough money to pay them and keep a roof over my own head – which, believe me, is hard work.

I set about sorting out my stock and putting a float into my till and all the other daily routines I do.

I like routine. I like everything to happen just so and at the right time. I’m not a fan of surprises; I’m not terribly impulsive. All of which probably explains why I haven’t been on a date in more years than I care to remember, and why I was lonely. I was. I was mostly happy on my own. I could do what I wanted, how I wanted and when I wanted, but some nights I did just long for somebody to snuggle up to. Someone to share my dreams with.


Charming Guy in a Tux

I never really wanted to go to the work’s Christmas do but in the end I gave in to peer pressure.

I’m regretting that decision now, wet, cold and shivering at a taxi rank all on my lonesome.

And did I mention hungry? I’m coeliac and made sure to tell Bryan from accounts this, it was one of my reasons not to go but he insisted the hotel would be able to do me a gluten free meal.
They couldn’t.

I got a bit of melon for a starter and my main was a plate of sprouts and carrots.

I don’t know what delights were in store for my dessert as I had a glass of red wine spilt down my back by a very drunk although highly apologetic temp. That however was the last straw.

“Excuse me, miss, are you okay?”

I nod without lifting my head to see who the mysterious speaker is. The voice sounds kind enough but I don’t want to attract the attention of yet another drunk or a pervert or God knows what.

“Are you sure? Have you called a cab? There won’t be many at this time you know, it’s still a bit early.”

“I have,” I replied sharply with the untruth before looking up.

The concerned voice belongs to a young man in a tuxedo, collar loose, bow tie untied lying casually around his neck. He’s walking towards me, running fingers through his blond hair to push it out of his face or as a nervous action, I’m not sure which. He doesn’t look drunk but he could still be a murderer. I guess they look like everyone else.

“Good because its dark and cold and a lady shouldn’t be out on her own on a night like this.”

“I can look after myself thank you,” I huff. Less afraid now and more pissed off. Especially as his eyes are so blue, and his tux fits him so very well.

“Oh, God, I’m sure you can. I’m sorry, I was concerned, I wanted to make sure you were safe. There’s been reports of attacks around here, I work at the hotel just there. I’m on my break. I didn’t mean to upset you or scare you. I should just fuck off now, eh?

His longwinded apology made me smile. How could I be upset or threatened by such a sweet young thing?

“No, no, thank you for being so kind. I should apologise for jumping to conclusions. I’ve had a really shitty night and I just want to get home. I was afraid you were drunk and I’ve already had a glass of wine down my back because of some pissed idiot, I didn’t want to have another run in. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“I can understand why you did! how did you end up with red wine down your back?”

I find myself telling him everything, from the invite to the do I didn’t even want to attend to the spilt wine incident via the melon and sprouts. The whole tangled web of forced sociability with colleagues.

“These things always suck he laughed. God, I hate this time of year. Did you say you’d rung for a taxi?”

“Yeah, I did but I lied. I wanted to get rid of you.”

The guy pouts and sniffs dramatically.

“Well that was before I got to know you and how charming you are of course!”

His pout changes into a smirk and a laugh.

“Okay, you can stop digging now, I forgive you but you better ring that cab, you’ll be here all night otherwise.”

“Yeah, I will.” I funmble my phone from the tiny black going out bag over my shoulder.

“You can pop my number in your phone when you’re done too, if you want to I mean.” He dips his head and brushes his hair back again.

I had to answer the enquiry on the other end of the phone and was dithering as I just wanted to tell the taxi receptionist to hang on whilst I got the hot guys number but eventually I stuttered out where I was and where I wanted to go.

“Yeah, I’ll add you. What’s your number?”

He came closer, rested his head centimetres from mine as he slowly gave me his number digit by digit.

“Oh, and what’s your name, I can’t just put you in as ‘Charming guy in tux’ Can I?

“I kinda like it,” He grins.

“Fine then,” I type in those words and save the number to my phone.

“Text me, so I have your number too.”

“Okay Charming Guy in a tux” I tap letters into my phone and press send. A moment later his pocket beeps. He looks at the message and laughs.

“Oh, I’ll put you in my phone as ‘sexy woman waiting for a taxi’ That alright?” He winks.

“Erm, yes, well, I suppose so—“

He leans closer and then his lips are on mine and I can’t breathe or think. I am only aware of the kiss, this surprising, hot and very sexy kiss. I step forward, balancing on my heels and he wraps his arms around me. I melt into him, the kiss deepening until I feel like I’m one with him. With the man who’s name I don’t know.
A car horn makes me jump and we pull apart.

“My cab, I best go.”

“Yeah,” He nods, “text me, sexy lady at lonely taxi rank!”

“I will Charming guy in a tux.” I reply with a laugh and unsteadily clamber into the back of the taxi. He waves as I drive past and I respond eagerly.

Maybe I don’t regret going to that Christmas do any more.

Other Sunday Snogs:

Comment below with a memory of a christmas snog to get an entry into the Blissemas Grand Prize Contest. Check http://blissemas.co.uk/rules/ for full terms and conditions.

4 comments

Gilly Langley - 19th December 2016 Reply

Tied bound blindfolded and snogged till I coukdnt breathe .

bn100 - 20th December 2016 Reply

under the mistletoe

Trix - 24th December 2016 Reply

Mistletoe, of course…

James Escol - 25th December 2016 Reply

Snogged in the couch by my then-boyfriend turned bestfriend. Really unforgettable. *happy sigh*

Comment to Win!

Kev Blisse's Truly Awful Cracker Joke™


Q: What did the grape say when the elephant stepped on it?

A: Nothing, it just gave off a little wine!