Ember Leigh Author PicMy name is Ember Leigh, and I travel a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I’ve lived in a couple of different countries, and visited dozens more. With so much travel under my belt, it only makes sense that I’d start a short story series dedicated to…you guessed it…TRAVEL! My latest release, When In Rome, is about two travellers who meet while backpacking Rome, have a great connection, and end up screwing in some ancient ruins.

Sounds like your typical vacation getaway to Rome, right?

Maybe not. But that’s okay! That’s why I’m writing the series, in fact; so we can all have the backpacking/flashpacking/glampacking getaway of our dreams, especially if our budgets didn’t allow that weekend getaway to Italy like we’d been hoping for. This story—in fact, the whole series—channels different parts of what I love about travel. There’s an addictive rush in purchasing plane tickets, reserving hostel or hotel rooms, and getting to know a new city for the first time.  Cities and countries sparkle like gemstones in the mind; the heart crumbles and pieces are left behind like a trail.

I loved writing this story because I’ve backpacked Rome myself. Writing about the city was, in a way, like I was visiting again, minus that really awkward time in the hostel where we were kicked out at 8AM for a reservation error.  I wanted to set the story there because having first-hand experience with the Eternal City really set the tone for writing. I also had a lot of flashbacks of scarfing pizza at unprecedented speeds.

Though not all of the books in this series feature places I’ve been or people I know, most have a kernel of true experience in there. But how can we distinguish the kernels of truth from the kernels—or sometimes delicious popcorn—of fiction?

Let’s play a game. I’ll mention three details from When In Rome, and you have to guess which one came from my real life experience. It’s like a magician revealing his secrets, except I’m an author revealing what’s actually true in my fictitious creation. So, not like a magician at all. OK? OK. Here we go.

Detail #1.) Alexandra (the female protagonist) says she’s always loved the Coliseum because from above, it looks like a diagram of a human eyeball.

Detail #2.) Alexandra sneaks into the Coliseum, thus avoiding the entrance fee, and doesn’t get caught.

Detail #3.) Alexandra runs away with Alessandro (the sexy Italian man she met at her hostel) to a quiet corner in the grounds of the historical site, where they have sex.

*drum roll*

Okay, folks, which one is it? Can you tell which one came from personal experience? Yeah? Can ya?

*dramatic pause*

*cymbals crash*

#2 is our winner! I bet you all were hoping #3 was the real life experience (because wouldn’t that just figure for an erotic romance author?), but alas, that’s not the case. I’ve never desecrated a beloved, historical place with any sort of sexual interloping…but I might add it to my bucket list. #1 is a detail that occurred to me during the writing of the story. Go check it out—it kinda looks like the anatomical diagram of a human eyeball!

So #2, then. When my best friend and I travelled through Rome, we found the entrance fee to be a bit exorbitant for our shoestring budgeting. Furthermore, the time we had left in Rome didn’t justify the cost—we had a train to catch, and approximately a half hour available for sightseeing. But how could we come to Rome and not see the Coliseum? The only solution was to sneak in.

We paced, and fretted, and conferred, and finally came to a decision. We approached the exit gate, and, with a believable degree of stress and panic, explained that we had lost our friend inside, and the group was leaving soon. Our group! Dear god, can’t you see that we must enter immediately to find our friend?!

They let us in. They really did! And so we darted like thieves through the Coliseum, half-pretending to search for our ‘friend’ (just in case the guards were checking on us to make sure our story was real…that’s called dedication to the story, folks), half-boggled by the ancient wonder before us.

But really, I felt so guilty and terrified of being caught that I barely remember any of it. We stayed a total of maybe ten minues—after all, our group was waiting. It was such an adrenaline rush, I forgot the whole damn thing. Figures.

Next time, I’ll pay the entrance fee, and spend my time soaking in the ancient wonder and taking tons of pictures. But in When In Rome, Alexandra sure doesn’t, but she’s rewarded in a whole different way for her brazen break-in.

Have any of you snuck into a sacred or historical place and lived to tell about it? What about getting naughty in or near a tourist site? Tell me about it below!


Ember Leigh has been writing erotic romance novels since she was far too young. A native of northern Ohio, she currently resides in South America with her Argentinean partner, a detail she uses to justify her Bachelor’s degree in Latin American Literature. In addition to romance novels, she also writes travel articles, maintains three blogs, and continually attempts to complete a mildly-gripping short story. In her free time, she practices Ashtanga yoga, travels the world, and eats lots of vegetables.

Website: http://www.emberleighromance.com

Twitter: @EmberLeighAuth

Instagram: @EmberLeighAuthor

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/emberleighauthor



When In Rome by Ember Leigh CoverWhen In Rome

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do”…right? Alexandra is a travel junkie and foreign air aficionado. When she finally decides to do Rome, she never thought it would involve a hot Italian, too.

What’s a girl to do when a desire to see the world and instant lust collide in the middle of one of the most popular touristic destinations in the world? Just DO the Roman!

Amazon     Barnes & Noble     iBooks      Kobo



He pulls me toward the inner rail, and points to the upper rim of the Coliseum. The heat of his palm against my low back sends shivers through me. A lip of arches is topped with a low wall, dotted with boxy windows. In one section, the wall has crumbled away. The clear blue Roman sky breaks through. “Now that is where, honest to God, they installed a …what do you call it? The device to listen to conversations about the dissolution of the Roman Empire.”

I snort. “Wiretaps in the 1500’s. I totally believe that.”

“Hey, I’m Italian.” He flashes a cheesy grin. “You have to believe me. It’s my country.”

“You should work as a tour guide.” I poke his belly, pleased by the hardness beneath his thin t-shirt. “I would pay good money to hear your bullshit.”

“Luckily, you don’t have to pay. Today. But tomorrow, full price.”

“Oh, you’ll be here tomorrow? I could call upon your Bullshit Guide Services again?”

He grins, dimples flashing. My knees weaken and I want to take that grinning face into my hands and kiss him until my lips hurt. And then he grabs my hand as we walk, and squeezes it. A gush of moisture releases between my legs and I know this is serious. Really serious.

We watch each other as we walk. His hand is warm and a little moist, but not the weird moist. Just-right moist.  I imagine the warmth traveling through my body like a snake, seeking out the farthest extremities and then circling back again to settle conveniently in my vaginal area.

About a minute later, he stops and pulls me into a dark corner of the corridor, behind a large stone pillar. His body connects roughly with mine as he pushes me against the wall, my chest heaving as I appraise the situation. I am startled and insanely aroused, like a woman caught masturbating in the shower by her sexy gardener. The parts of his body that connect with mine are like lightning, causing hot zips of painful pleasure right beneath the surface.

“Can I kiss you?”

I nod, and he presses his lips to mine. My eyes flutter shut and his scent consumes me, a mixture of aftershave and heady male. Our second kiss is deeper, and the third mind-boggling. The smooth texture of the stone pillar is cold through my t-shirt. He cups my cheek, fingertips connecting hot with my jawline.

We break apart. My mind is spinning like I just took a flying leap off a bridge. Was this actually real? I swear to God, thirty seconds ago I was just walking around the Coliseum like any regular person, mapping my trek through the anatomical eyeball. Then, this guy comes along and pins me to the wall and has his way with me. And I am notcomplaining. Maybe there’s something to the idea that if you want something hard enough, it will come. It seems that the past twelve hours imagining sex with this guy has paid off.

He smiles, his face so close to mine that his breath comes out hot against my cheek. It does not smell like olive oil, as I once callously suggested all Italians might.

“That was nice,” I say.

He nods, and kisses me again. His tongue meets mine hesitantly, and then we begin a round of sloppy, desperate kisses that could probably qualify for the lamest of chick flicks. I moan and then quiet myself, not wanting to tip off tourists or security guards. He tenses and breaks the kiss, peering around the pillar at something. I shift against him, and I swear his cock is hard as a rock against my hip. I glance down, trying to discern if it’s that or something else, like a belt buckle.

No belt on. That’s a good sign.


Also available in the Erotic Destinations Series

Carlos and Casey by Ember Leigh CoverBook 1, Carlos and Casey

Join two ex-lovers, four years after their last romp. When a work trip brings Casey back into Carlos’ territory, she knows she’d have him right there in the airport parking lot. But Carlos doesn’t seem so eager.

Unsure of herself post-divorce, Casey knows only one thing: she wants this man as much as she did the last time she saw him. And she’s more than ready to relive every saucy adventure they had together. Can the sparks be salvaged, or has time left them behind?

Amazon     Barnes & Noble     iBooks     Kobo



COMING SOON: Book 3, Turkish Delight


All the female staffers go wild for Kadir when he arrives in the USA to compete in a reality dance competition. A Turkish soap opera star with eyes that could melt snow, he’s got the women clawing for his attention— except Jenna. She wants no part of the hullabaloo. Though she can’t help wondering if tasting this sexy Turkish Delight might be worth bending the rules a little…


Pin It on Pinterest

Share This