Hi, you have just arrived at my blogsite. I'm Artemis Hunt, author, harried employee, long-suffering wife, multi-tasker, Pomeranian lover, stepmother to two grown-up stepkids. I'm going to blog about subjects I feel passionately about. Please browse, and maybe you'll find something you feel passionately about too. For darker adult stories, I write under the name of A.R. Hunt. For straight erotica and erotic romances with mild BDSM (a la Fifty Shades), I write under the name of multiple Amazon and Barnes and Noble bestselling erotica author, Aphrodite Hunt.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012



Samantha Fox is awkward, clumsy and totally in need of a new boyfriend by this weekend. Her younger, prettier sister is getting engaged . . . and all set to make "old maid big sister" Sam feel all crummy and shelved.

Enter Brian Morton. He is bewilderingly gorgeous, fantastically rich, razor-tongued snarky and utterly promiscuous. He was also the bully who made Sam's middle school life a living hell.

A series of bizarre circumstances culminates in Brian losing a bet. His punishment? To be Sam's slave for the weekend . . . and to do anything she wants. Sam has just found her pretend boyfriend for her sister's party. And Brian has just found that the woman he used to call 'Jaws' in school (for her braces) packs a helluva bite.

THE PRETEND BOYFRIEND is a 25,000-word erotic romance short novel. It chronicles the cat-and-mouse start of Sam and Brian's unusual but engaging romance.

Caleb looks up. "Uh oh."

Brian turns his head to gaze at what his best friend is looking at.

A thundercloud of a woman storms into the poker room. She has a mass of appealing brown curls that make her look blow-dried and ditzy, but nevertheless extremely attractive. She has a cute button nose, so he would guess her age to be under twenty-five. Her complexion is slightly freckled. She gives off the aura of being passionate, robust and healthy - with a clear zest for life.

And her eyes. She has the most incredibly mesmerizing eyes. They are a vivid blue, and so large that he thinks he can drown in them forever.

Careful, he warns himself.

Oh boy, but she's so fuckable. He wonders if she would make a pass at him - in which case, he would drag her into the pool room, clear everyone out and fuck her on the table immediately amid all the colored balls rolling around. Hell yeah, he can even imagine the table creaking and groaning under their collective weights. Balls rushing into their pockets everywhere as he sinks himself repeatedly into her.

It's amazing. He had just fucked somebody a mere hour ago, and he now has a raging hard-on under the table. The familiar rising of his cock sends the entire crotch area of his jeans into massive strain. Enough strain to pop his zipper.

But he can't help it. Whoever this woman is, she's just fucking adorable.

She's staring at him.


They all do.

Her eyes flash blue fire as she strides up to him, still seated at the poker table. Everyone's eyes are riveted upon her.

"Brian Morton?" she says.

Behind her, a gaggle of women - including the brunettes who were eyeing him from the bar and the blonde he had just fucked - troop into the room, hanging around the doorway bemusedly to watch.


"Did you go to St. Theresa Academy? Around thirteen years ago?"

"Give or take a few, yeah."

She's very close to him. He can smell her perfume - a light summer scent that brings daisies and bright meadows to mind. He smiles up at her. That cocksure, predatory smile that renders women, so he has been told, weak at the knees.

Oh, she wants him. He can tell.

She says, "Good. Because there's something I want to give you."

With that, she draws back her fist and punches him right in the face.