EROTIC MUSES

Halloween Blog Hop

2010-10-24T07:56:00.003-04:00

Happy Halloween! This is the Bonnie Dee stop on the LSB Halloween blog hop. Drop a line and follow the link at the end of this post to the next stop.

Ah, Halloween, that magical, mysterious, murderous time of year. It was always the high holiday of the year for me when I was a kid, in some ways more than Christmas. I was a child who always chose books which included magic or the paranormal, and as I grew older I read a lot of horror. It was only natural that the night set aside for demons to walk the earth—and children to roam from house to house seeking candy—would win my heart.

I want to share a fun story about a particular Halloween in the mid-seventies when I hosted my annual party and gave some of my friends a good scare. I remember the date only because The Omen was the hot fright flick we’d all seen that year. My co-host and I set up a trail of terror all the way along the creek that meandered across our property. There were trees on either side of the creek, hardly a forest but enough to create a little wilderness to lead our friends through.

That evening, armed with flashlights and wearing robes, we led our targets on a narrated trip. We’d spent several afternoons placing dummies along the way. One hung from a tree with a rope to pull to make the dead man fall just as we led our victims beneath it. There was a pathetic dead baby doll floating in a pool of water. In one spot we’d rigged the bushes to rustle while an angry dog growled, courtesy of a tape player hidden under one of our robes (that was The Omen reference—remember those scary black dogs?). Oh yes, this was an elaborate spook trail—even if all the pranks didn’t work flawlessly. In the dark of a country night it was creepy.

But the highlight was to be the end of the trail where we’d set up a “long abandoned cemetery” (headstones courtesy of a few cinderblocks). At this point we escorts, the only ones with flashlights, would turn them off and abandon our guests. There were plenty of screams and shouts of “come on, you guys” and as any adult can probably guess, the guests didn’t enjoy the prank as much as we thought they should have. In fact some were pretty pissed off and we had to patch things up later. But all was forgiven over cider and doughnuts and the traditional bobbing for apples.

This Halloween I’d like to present a more adult tale featuring that traditional symbol of fall—the scarecrow. The Straw Man is available at Liquid Silver Books. The heroine, Marie is a lonely woman, who lives an isolated life running her family farm. She hasn’t found a special someone among the local men. As she fantasizes a sexual encounter with the man of her dreams, a strong wind comes up from nowhere, stirring the ragged clothing of the scarecrow that guards her fields.

Later that evening, after the last of the trick-or-treaters has gone, there’s a knock on the door. Images from the horror movie she’s been watching whirling in her head, Marie cautiously answers. A handsome stranger with a magnetic gaze waits on her doorstep—and claims he’s come for her.

Magic has brought love in a most unusual package. Logic and common sense evaporate under the spell of the evening and Marie experiences the love of a lifetime all in one night. But in the morning her visitor is gone. What sacrifice will it take to turn her fantasy man back into flesh and blood?

Want to read more about The Straw Man? Click on link.

Hop on to the next stop on the Halloween trail here:
http://booknibbles.com/bloghop

The Gentleman and the Rogue

2010-03-16T08:13:00.002-04:00

The Gentleman and the Rogue available now at Loose Id.

A lad from the streets meets a lord of the manor...

When Crimean war veteran Sir Alan Watleigh goes searching for sex, he never imagines the street rat he brings home for one last bit of pleasure in his darkest hour will be the man who hauls him back from the edge of the grave.

A night of meaningless sex turns into an offer of permanent employment. As Alan’s valet, Jem offers much more than polished boots and starched cravats. He makes Alan smile and warms his bed. Just as the men are adjusting to their new living arrangement, news about a former soldier under his command sends Sir Watleigh and Jem on the road to save a child in danger.

The journey brings them closer together as they travel from lust toward love. But is Alan's love strong enough to risk society discovering the truth about him?

see excerpt below It was a hanging offense if he got caught. Jem knew that. But he also knew he could get half a crown for the act and sleep with a full belly tonight. Now he just had to decide if the gent in the fancy waistcoat was a real customer or a troublemaker setting him up to take a fall. Another glance at the expensive carriage waiting on the street convinced him the dark-haired man was the former. A beak wouldn't get that elaborate in his attempt to set up a whore. He might approach him in a tavern or on the street and whisper a furtive request, but wouldn't hire a rich man's carriage to complete the ruse. Would he?
Jem looked into the man's eyes, trying to read them, but it was a dark night. The fog rose along with the stench from the rubbish in the alleys and crept out to claim the London streets. A man could hardly see his own hand, let alone a stranger's face, in the swirling gray.
“Will you take a ride?” the man asked again. Street slang decoded the words to mean the cove wasn't just seeking fast relief. This wouldn't be a quick tour around a couple of streets and back again. The man wanted a full ride.
Jem decided he'd give it to him. He shrugged. “Cold night. Aye, I'll take a ride with you.”
The gentry cove nodded and gestured for Jem to go first into the carriage. He climbed the step and slid across the seat, breathing in the delicious aroma of leather, tobacco, and wealth. He'd wished for shelter from the frigid wind, and it appeared his wish had been granted for now. No fool, he'd take a little warmth while he could get it.
He looked out the small window at the street he knew so well—or what he could see of it through the fog and the night. The buildings looked different from this high perch, more squalid and decrepit than he'd realized. His heart beat faster; Jem was both excited and nervous at the prospect of an evening spent somewhere better. Sure, it was only for a few hours and only because this man wanted to bugger his rear. But for a few fleeting moments he'd be out of this hell and in a warm place. Maybe even a plush hotel room.
Jem studied his temporary employer as the man climbed into the carriage and sat across from him. It was as dark as the inside of a slut's cunny, but Jem could make out a few details of the man's face and figure. He was of medium height and build, not too old, but no youth either. His dark hair was cut short and brushed straight back from his high forehead. The style wasn't the high pompadour currently in fashion for society fops, nor was his cravat so elaborate that it forced his chin up. In fact, if Jem had to guess the man's status or profession, he might have said the clergy from the plainness of his dress.
“What's your name?” The low voice floated to him in the intimate darkness of the carriage like a seductive caress. Jem's cock hardened in his breeches. Tonight would be no chore at all. He'd enjoy being fucked for his supper.
“You call me whatever you like” was his stock answer.
There was a long pause before the man spoke again. “I'd like to know your name.”
“Jem.” He didn't ask for the man's name. It wasn't his place. Jem patted the seat beside him. “Do you want to come over here? I can make it a pleasant ride to wherever you're taking me.”
The movement of the man's head shaking was almost indiscernible in the shadow. “No. I'd prefer…to take some time and learn a little about you.”
“Fair enough.” Jem bobbed his chin. “I'm a working lad. Live in Southwark, will probably die here. I've tried my hand at a number of different business ventures and found my current occupation the most lucrative.”
He grinned, enjoying the sound of his own voice. He loved to mimic the swells' speech and mannerisms—his way of taunting them and showing his disdain.
“How old are you?” was the next question.
Knowing most customers liked to at least pretend they were plowing virgin territory, Jem subtracted half a dozen years from his age. “Thirteen.”
His host chuckled softly, clearly not fooled into thinking week-old haddock was freshly caught. “Is that so?”
“All right. Fifteen,” Jem lied again. Nineteen wasn't nearly as attractive to prospective customers. “But those extra years bring experience from which you'll greatly benefit, sir.”
Another breathless laugh. Not actual amusement, and Jem wondered what the man's problem was that he had to talk and laugh instead of getting straight to work. To the good part.
“What's funny, then, sir?” Jem didn't like the frisson of fear that ghostly laugh gave him.
“Nothing at all, I expect.” The voice was soft yet clipped, the voice of authority. The dark figure in the corner shifted. The gent added, almost silently, “I am quite glad one of us has some experience.”
Jem wanted to laugh, make a ribald comment, but he wouldn't because he wasn't supposed to have heard.
The carriage jolted, and he grabbed for a hold. He was thrown toward the other man, knocked against the hard warmth of him. The gentleman grabbed him easily and hauled him upright, then almost threw Jem back onto the seat—away from his corner. A swell though he was—no doubt about that—the man had some muscle on him, and he moved fast for one who'd been drinking. For the instant he'd been against him, Jem dragged in a lungful of air and caught the scent of brandy.
“Didn't mean to launch myself at you, sir. Not unless invited,” he said and waited for the man's laugh, which didn't come.
Jem wondered if he should mention money now or suggest the man might be hungry, because he sure as hell was gutfoundered and wouldn't mind stopping for a bite. He wasn't fool enough to bring up the matter. It was up to the gentleman to set their course. Jem repressed a sigh.
“Have you ever been out of London?”
Not a moment of his life, but why did the gent care? What was his game? “Naturally I got the country estate,” Jem said. “Hunting, shooting, and what have you, all the livelong day. Cows,” he added. “Sheep.”
“Jem.” The voice was softer than ever. “Is that short for Jeremy?”
Fine, there wouldn't be jesting, and a well-developed sense of self-preservation told Jem to stick to the truth as much as possible. “Naw. Just Jem.” No last names shared between men like them.
Near the middle of the night, rumbling through the streets muffled in fog, the dark interior of the carriage—anything might happen. They slowed. Over the thud of the horses' hooves and rumble of the wheels, Jem heard his own breathing coming fast. And he felt the slight rise of fear in his gut. He was no coward, but something about the unknown, very still gentleman in the corner of the carriage touched nerves in the most unlikely places. For instance, his cock was growing even harder.
The peculiar etiquette of the situation said he shouldn't ask, but he did anyway. “Where're we off to, then, sir?” He was pleased by his attempt at cheery nonchalance.
“My home. We're nearly there.”
Not married, then. Or the cat was away and the mouse was playing. Only this was no mouse. The carriage stopped, the door opened, and for the first time, Jem saw the coachman. His smile froze. “Gawd,” he whispered.
The devil had been driving them. A huge, hulking devil with a great scar down his face. Two great scars. Part of an ear was gone. Jem had seen plenty of mangled and scarred souls in his time—who hadn't?—but this one would have sent the children running and screaming even before he'd lost chunks of his face. He loomed over them.
“Badgeman.” Jem's host ignored Jem as he spoke to the coachman. “Take my…guest round to the kitchen. I think it best that he bathe. Some of Jonathan's clothes will fit him, I believe.”
The devil driver grunted and stood back. The gent stepped out. He nodded at the hideous coachman. Their faces were easy to make out by the oil lantern. They wore the same grim expression. Blank. Dark. Jem could read nothing warm or good in those two.
Jem swallowed hard and wondered if this was the moment he jumped out and ran to freedom. But curiosity, an empty stomach, and the knowledge that he carried a handy little knife kept him still. And desire. Don't forget that, he mocked himself. He'd been in a state of semiarousal since getting into the big rattling carriage.
Before he could slide out of the carriage, the driver ordered “wait.” The door slammed shut. Jem clutched the knife and sat forward in the dark. He didn't have to wait long. The carriage lurched. The horses walked forward for less than thirty seconds.
When the door opened again, the monster stood outside, haloed by fog, his boots and the bottom of his long black greatcoat surrounded by the stuff so he looked as if he were rising from the swirling smoke of hell.
Jem tucked away the blade and stepped out as if he were royalty exiting a coach in front of a cheering crowd. He had an unfortunate method for facing fear: annoy whoever provoked it. At the moment it felt as if he had no choice. “Mr. Badger,” he drawled and bowed.
“Badgeman,” the man rumbled. “Come, then.” He turned on his heel and strode toward a door.
Jem looked the building up and down. Large, granite, imposing. And this was the servants' entrance. “So, Badger.” He did a passable imitation of cheeriness. “How many men have you two lured into this den of yers? Regular activity, is it? Once a week you two go out, pick up an unsuspecting young cove, and bathe him?”
The groom turned and stared at him. “Never before.”
Jem believed him. Poor Badger fretted over his employer for good reason, then. “Ah, that's why you're worried? You're the monster, not me. I ain't out to harm your master.”
“Worried about you?” For the first time something like a smile twisted the man's face. Only one side. The other side of his mouth was cut by a scar that ran from his cheek to his chin. The cut must have hit something that made it impossible to smile.
“Then you always look like you lost your best friend? You and your master?”
The single eyebrow went up. Badgeman didn't move for a moment, and then he said, “Badajoz. 'Tis the anniversary.”
“Oh.” Jem had no idea who or what a Badajoz was, although the word sounded familiar. “Anniversaries are the devil, ain't they? Hardly bear it when that date rolls round again. All them bad memories. Or do I mean good ones?”
“Shut it,” Badgeman said without heat. “Wait out here.” He went inside the building, and Jem leaned against the wall. He shoved his trembling hands into his tattered waistcoat pockets.
Softly, so none of the neighbor houses could hear, he began to whistle a bawdy song. Quality didn't usually bring a man like him home. Didn't want to shit where they lived, so to speak. It was a dangerous proposition to let a street lad in. The servants might gossip about what their master was up to, or the dirty rascal might nick the best silver. Lord Muckety-muck was either a naive fool or confident that Jem wouldn't dare cross him.
A chill breeze cut through his coat, and Jem hunched his shoulders, shivering. One more minute; that's all he'd give, and then he was leaving, even though it meant hoofing it all the way back to Crowder Street.
The back door opened, and the mountain filling its frame beckoned him. “Come in. Your bath's ready.”
Jem made a show of sniffing himself. “What, am I a little too rank for his lordship?”
“In here.” The Badger directed him through the entryway to the kitchen. A fire burned low on the hearth, and a copper tub filled with steaming water stood before it. Jem had never had more than a quick scrub in a basin of water in his entire life, unless one counted an occasional swim in the Thames on a hot summer's day.
He stared at the water, then at the coachman or manservant, whichever he was. “You want me to get in that?”
The big man had taken off his coat and wore only his shirtsleeves and braces. He folded his arms over his chest. “Strip.”
“With you watchin'? Are you gonna scrub me too, while the master looks on? I'd have to charge extra for that.”
It was like talking to a rock. The man showed no expression. “Take off your clothes, and wash yourself. There's soap and a rag on the stand by the tub and a towel to dry off with after.”
Jem considered for a moment, but just then, the wind rattled the windowpane, and he knew he didn't want to go back out into the cold just yet. He'd see how this played out and hope he didn't find himself later with his throat cut, dead in an alley. He shrugged off his coat, let it drop to the floor, and began to unbutton his shirt.
Old Badger gazed off into space, not watching him. He was there to guard the silver, no doubt. Wise decision.
Jem took off his shoes and breeches, and when he was completely naked, he padded across the cold flagstones to the bath and tested it with one hand. The water was deliciously warm. He glanced over his shoulder at the servant, but the man was still giving him privacy by ignoring him completely.
Gingerly Jem stepped over the edge of the tub, and his leg sank into the water. He paused for a moment, almost afraid to take his other foot off the floor. But he couldn't hang there forever, so he took the plunge.
As he sank into the water, the level rose until he was covered nearly to his neck. Once he'd adjusted to the heat and the odd sensation of floating, he found it heavenly. He reached for the flannel, wet it, and rubbed it over the soap. He scrubbed his face and rinsed it with a quick dip, the suds stinging his eyes. Then he washed the rest of his body leisurely, resuming his whistling as he soaped and splashed.
“The hair too. Master don't want your fleas hopping through his house.”
Jem kept his mouth shut for once and did as he was told, submerging his head completely underwater and scrubbing his hair with the soap. Wasn't his place to argue if his customer wanted him clean, and truth to tell, the bath wasn't so bad. The heated water relaxed his muscles till they felt like jelly and warmed him to his very bones.
“Hurry along now,” Badger urged as the water grew colder.
Jem reluctantly rose, toweled off his torso, then stepped out of the water, leaving a puddle on the floor, and dried his legs. He slung the towel around his hips and stared at Badgeman. “Now what?”
“Clothes are there. Put 'em on.”
Jem picked up the trousers from the pile on the wooden chair. They were smooth broadcloth, finer than any fabric that had ever touched his body. The shirt was soft linen, white and as clean as snow before chimney soot got mixed up in it. So he was playing a role, then, maybe the part of someone Lord Fancy had loved and lost, which would explain all the talk about anniversaries. He'd give the gentleman his money's worth, put on his best impression of gentry, talk high-class, and pretend the bath had washed the stink of the gutter from him.
When Jem had dressed from his skin out, including slipping his feet into high, buckled shoes that were a bit too tight, he turned to Badgeman and drawled in a nasal tone, “Very well, then. I'm ready to meet his lordship. Lead on, sirrah.”
.

Mirror Image

2010-03-01T13:36:00.001-05:00

Double your pleasure, double your fun. What’s better than one amazing lover? A matched set.

When Agent Mara Brannigan struts into a low-rent bar on a mission to seduce and apprehend a pair of fugitives from the government, she doesn’t count on being the one caught in the snare of seduction.

Captains Derrick and “Red” Ravenscraft are a duplicate pair, which the Galactic Ministry of Science wants to study. Mara is there to strongly suggest they respond to that summons, but a bar brawl winds up with her unconscious and waking up on board the captains’ ship.

Powerful, undeniable attraction binds the three together. The squabbling men must learn to overcome their issues when the ship, and Mara, are endangered by an outer space menace. But when the danger is past, can they make a permanent reconciliation, and can the three find a happy balance together?

Excerpt:
Double your pleasure.

Her gaze magnetically sealed to the matched pair across the bar. Most everyone in the place kept stealing glances at them, so it wasn’t like she’d reveal they were her targets. The tall, auburn-haired, leather-jacketed, testosterone-laden specimens of manhood were speaking intensely and occasionally jabbing a finger into each other’s heavy shoulders.

Crossing her long, bare legs, she swung them idly from the tall barstool. It was nearly impossible not to gawk, to study them and search for some tiny differences between the arguing men. Hard to tell in the dim light, but it appeared as if Captain A had a scar marking the side of his face while Captain B’s hair was definitely longer, falling past the upturned collar of his jacket. What must it be like? Two of her would be weird.

Double your fun.

The words of the nonsensical nursery rhyme passed down from the Old Days revolved incessantly in Mara’s mind. She drew a deep breath and shifted on the faux-wood bar stool, trying to relieve the tension building between her legs. Her pussy felt as soft and pliable as plastique and just as likely to explode given the right igniter.

Focus. She was here on the small moon of Bonmim to apprehend her quarry, not get turned on by them. She didn’t want to be here, all dressed up for sex she wouldn’t get. Alone as usual. She loved her job, and was proud of it, but lately the pace had been getting to her. She needed a vacation. She wanted someone to talk to, and someone to have sex with, and the isolation hollowing her ribs was pathetic. Seducing these hardheads into leaving the bar with her was part of the plan, but she mustn’t be taken in by her own performance. They were double cute, double interesting, and she was double lonely.

No, the seduction was for show. The men were likely to fight if cornered so she couldn’t apprehend them in a room full of people. But it shouldn’t be too difficult to get one or preferably both of them to follow her outside where she could politely read them their rights then escort them to Rasedule where the Capitol Science Headquarters of Theory and Energy were located.

Not difficult at all, especially as both men simultaneously noticed her and stared with smoldering, dark eyes that peeled off her I-wanna-have-fun clothes from across the room. Mara longed to slip off the confining little black dress that lifted her sensitive breasts and rubbed too roughly against her feverish skin. Damn, it was like she’d been caught in a radiation shower, as if her very bones were melting. If the men’s mere scrutiny could do that, think of what their roaming hands or mouths could do.

Double your pleasure.

She turned her attention back to her drink, sucking deeply on the straw impaling the icy blue confection. The slush cooled her throat but the alcohol warmed her blood even more. Mara waited, gazing around the bar at other people, making eye contact with other men. A young blond was notable for the return heat he sent her. Here she was, just an ordinary woman on the make. She ignored the empty cavern of her echoing heart. Here she was, just an ordinary agent who hadn’t even seen her friends face-to-face in over a year.

A moment later, two blue Molten Icecaps plunked down on the bar in front of her. The one she’d ordered for herself had been virgin. She could tell by the dense cobalt at the base these were fully loaded. Drinking on a job was against her rules. It was common sense.

“Courtesy of the gentlemen over there,” the bartender said. He paused before turning away. “I’d watch out for those two, miss. Lot of trouble.”

“Really?” She looked at her quarry again, nodding her acknowledgement of the drinks, meeting the two pairs of sizzling eyes. “Happens to be I’m looking for trouble. You can let them know that for me if you’d like.”

The Moltens were her favorite. How lucky for her. She pulled one closer and took a deep drag of the spicy slush.

The tender shrugged. “All right, lady, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

After he walked away, the blond man she’d smiled at came up beside her. “Hello. I see I moved too slow and somebody’s already bought you drinks. How about I break tradition and buy you a bag of pretzels instead?”

The man flashed a charming grin. If she hadn’t been on a mission, Mara might have taken him up on the offer and taken him home later that evening. He was the kind of young, obedient and energetic partner she liked. But of course she was on a mission same as she had been for the last ten years.

He angled his shoulders, blocking her view. Then again, the captains eclipsed every other man in the room. If she really was on the make, maybe she’d take a gamble on a less dependable date. Maybe she’d truly hit on her targets, if she was feeling really frisky. Which she was. The blond was in the way. She needed the stools beside her left empty.

“You’re very sweet. Thanks, but sorry, I’m expecting someone.” She smiled her firm, polite smile then let him know with her eyes that she meant it.

With a nod, the guy retreated back to his buddies at a nearby table.

Mara took another long pull on her straw, draining her glass, and an ice headache threatened. What the hell was taking them so long to move in? Restlessly, she stretched her neck and checked out the décor. This bar was the latest in historical reproductions. The synth walls were uneven brown slabs, supposedly like massive plants that had been cut and nailed together. Old names written in glowing tube lighting were scattered behind the bar. Her favorite was one the same color as her Molten drink. It read “Miller Time.” Whatever that was. Maybe it was the frustrating amount of time between the Copied Captains giving her yummy drinks and getting their big firm bodies over here. She stole a look at the men.

The scarred guy was looking back at her, fucking her with his gaze, while his longer-haired twin berated him with an angry scowl furrowing his brows. Mara could guess what they were fighting about now. She angled her crossed legs higher, revealing more toned thigh, and draped her arm along the back of the tall chair, exposing her generous breasts. She stared at the bottles lining the wall behind the counter, licked her lips with lazy confidence, and waited some more. Unfortunately, the wait began to feel less predatory agent-in-waiting, and more flat-out sexual anticipation. The Molten Blue sizzled down her throat.

She felt them before she saw them, two hot bodies bracketing her on either side. Standing as tall as she did, she appreciated large men. The scarred captain slid onto the stool on her left.

His shaggy-haired mate asked permission. “Is this seat taken?”

She inclined her head. “Please, sit.”

The very vibration of the air changed with their commanding presences surrounding her. Her nipples tingled and her sex clenched in response to their proximity. Mara sat up straighter on her stool, squeezing her thighs tight.

Double your fun.

Valentine Freebie

2010-02-11T11:06:00.006-05:00

Please check out my sexy Valentine short at the Samhellion blog
A BEATING HEART is about a vampire who has an unexpected erotic encounter with a stranger one evening. It's available at the Samhain blog. I think you’ll enjoy it.

28 Days of Heart continues at All Romance Ebooks. Participating authors are giving away all proceeds from the sales to the American Heart Association.
LIBERATING LUCIUS is the story I've donated to the cause. Some of you may have read it in the past either at Venus Press or on my blog. I donated the story to this worthwhile program to prevent heart disease.

Seducing Stephen Available Now

2010-02-05T07:43:00.002-05:00

Seducing Stephen by Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon is available at Loose Id. Check out this sexy historical which takes the trope of the jaded rake and the virginal miss in an entirely new direction.

Stephen is visiting the home of a friend during holiday from university when his bed is invaded by a late arriving, drunken houseguest stumbling into the wrong bedroom. From this dubious beginning, a romance slowly develops.

At first Lord Peter Northrup is only interested in the young man as a lusty diversion. He tutors him in the ways of most homosexual liaisons of the time—brief, light, and always temporary. But after he leaves, breaking young Stephen’s heart, he can’t forget him.

Both men grow during their time apart and when they meet again, their affair flames hotter than ever. Is there any possibility for a real relationship between a peer of the realm and a middle-class young man with heavy responsibilities on his shoulders? Will Peter accept the possibility of true love in his shallow life, and will Stephen risk everything and trust a man who’s already hurt him once?

Excerpt:
When they returned to the house in midafternoon of the hot, sunny day, it was to find the place quiet. The butler informed them Mrs. Pratt was napping and the young men had gone off on a walk. Peter was ridiculously disappointed by the news.
Edward took his leave, saying he wouldn’t mind a rest himself during the heat of the day, and Peter was left at loose ends. He sat in the library for a bit, flipping absently through the pages of books. But the day was too fine for a man to be caged indoors, and he felt too restless to slip into a comfortable doze.
He abandoned his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves like a workingman before leaving the relatively cool house to stroll through the gardens. Mrs. Pratt’s rose garden was at peak bloom, the sweet fragrance almost overpowering. The cloying scent was cut by the sharp tang of evergreen as he left the rose garden and entered the verdant green of the maze.
A bad idea. The tall walls of yew trapped the heat, and Peter’s shirt was damp with sweat by the time he finally approached the center of the maze. He made the last turn and came to an abrupt halt, arrested by the vision before him.
Stephen was sitting on the grass, reading a book in the shade cast by the wall of evergreen. His boots were off and his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a white undershirt beneath. He looked up, startled, his light gray eyes reflecting the bright sunlight and appearing even more luminous than they had in the firelight’s glow last night.
The young man scrambled to his feet and bowed toward Peter, the appropriate response to a man of higher rank, but hardly necessary under the casual circumstances.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Peter said. “Please, sit. I plan to do the same myself.”
Ignoring the stone bench, he crossed the small clearing and dropped down onto the grass in the small bit of shade. He looked up at Stephen, who still stood over him. “Won’t you sit down?”
“Y-yes.” The youth began to button his shirt as he folded his long legs and resumed his seat on the ground.
Peter fanned his face with his hand. “Don’t know what I was thinking of, walking in this heat. Where’s Brian?”
“He’s much cleverer than I. He stayed indoors.” A smile flickered over Stephen’s mouth. “The idea of exploring the maze was too tempting. I’ve always wanted to walk one and never had the opportunity. But I guess waiting until evening would’ve been better.”
“At least you brought rations. Smart boy.” Peter gestured to the corked bottle leaning against the hedge.
“Oh. Please.” Stephen offered it to him.
Peter drank deeply of the tepid water with the slight tang of citrus, then poured a little into his cupped hand and splashed it on his face. After he recapped the bottle and handed it back, they sat in strained silence for several aching moments. The events of the previous night hung in the air between them like a rock balloon.
Peter studied the pale gold sweep of Stephen’s lashes against his flushed cheeks -- pink from either embarrassment or heat. Someone must break the awkward mood, and since he was older and more experienced, it seemed it would have to be him.
“About last night.” The two spoke in unison, the words tumbling against one another.
Stephen smiled. Peter chuckled. “Do go on. What did you want to say about last night?”
The young man licked his lips, and the flash of tongue sent a frisson of lust shimmering through Peter. “I’m sure you could guess I’ve never done anything like that. B-but I’ve wanted to. I would like to learn more…from you…while we’re both here.” He added a codicil. “If that’s possible.”
Was it possible? Peter had spent all morning trying to convince himself it wasn’t. A dalliance with his friends’ son’s university chum was out of the question. But with Stephen expressing an equal interest in and attraction to him, Peter couldn’t for the life of him remember why such a liaison was impossible.
He pursed his lips as he considered. “We would have to be extremely circumspect.”
Stephen nodded. “Of course.”
“And I will only be here through the weekend.”
“I understand.”
Peter smiled slowly. “Long enough to get up to some trouble.”
Stephen seemed to have used up his store of words and courage, because he merely nodded again.
“If you’re very sure about this,” Peter added, giving the young man every opportunity to change his mind. “I wouldn’t want to be corrupting an innocent. Any more than I already have, I mean.”
The youth stared at the bottle in his hands, corking and uncorking it over and over. “Can you tell me, sir, how you first knew you were…different from other men? You seem so comfortable with your desires. Unafraid. I want to be like that.”
“You’re young. It takes time, and some never are able to accept themselves. I know many men with wives and children who only rarely dare to satisfy their secret need. Others who never do, although one can see that need in their eyes.”
“Why?” The word was a gusting sigh. “Why do some of us have these perverted desires? Is it really the devil who’s touched us? I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want it. I want to be normal.” His voice picked up volume and ended nearly as an angry cry, all trace of hesitation and stuttering gone.
Peter waited, giving Stephen the opportunity to let out more of his feelings while he worked out how he was going to answer.
“I’ve looked at girls, at women, and tried to feel what I’m supposed to,” Stephen continued. “They look very pretty in their beautiful gowns, with their hair in curls and ribbons, but they don’t move me. Not in the s-slightest. I can’t…feel anything about them. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes.” He reached out and touched the other man’s bare forearm, the skin warm and slightly moist beneath his hand. “I understand completely.”
Peter knew what the poor, confused lad needed most right now was to be able to voice what he’d had to keep hidden for so long. He remembered what it had been like for him before he’d finally admitted to his needs and at long last accepted them. Only years later had he found broad-minded people like the Pratts who would remain his friends despite his proclivities.
Stephen gazed at Peter’s hand on his arm before looking slowly up to his face. “How did you do it?”
Peter shook his head slightly. The journey was different for every man. He didn’t know if he could give an answer that would help Stephen’s particular situation. “I just did it. Stopped trying to please society and started pleasing myself.”
“Show me how.”
The husky whisper raised gooseflesh on Peter’s arms and made his cock stiffen. Oh God, how he wanted to show him, to tutor him in the ways of the flesh, but he wasn’t certain if a kind ear wasn’t more what Stephen needed right now.
Peter stroked his hand from the smooth, strong forearm down to Stephen’s hand and curled his fingers around it.
“Tell me a little more about yourself first.” He brought the younger man’s hand to his own lap and cupped it between both his hands. “We have all afternoon. No one else would be fool enough to tackle the maze in this heat. Let us take a little time to get to know each other first.”

My Yorkie

2010-01-29T11:10:00.004-05:00

All right, this isn't really my Yorkie, Buttons. But it's cute and I can't think of anything to write about today so here's a cute Yorkie picture.

Also, my story LIBERATING LUCIUS is included in ARE's 28 Days of Heart campaign. Buy any of the titles in this seies from ARE and your purchase will go to support the American Heart Association.

Loving Sophia Up

2010-01-26T23:52:00.003-05:00

Well, the day has arrived. Loving Sophia is up at Liquid Silver. Can I get a woot woot? Drop by LSB and read the first chapter. Whet your desires. Pun intended.

Loving Sophia Release Date

2010-01-20T00:18:00.001-05:00

FINALLY! I have the release date for Loving Sophia. Can I hear a woo hoo? Woo Hoo! January 25 Loving Sophia will be available at Liquid Silver Books.

What happens when you play with fire? You get burned.
Dating Ethan James was risky, but it was a risk Sophia was willing to take. The heat and passion blazed between them hotter than the sun. Sophia was sure she had found the one. So sure she told him she loved him. Only to watch him turn and walk away.

Love ’em and Leave ’em
It was just for fun. A few dates, a few laughs. The way Ethan saw it, he and Sophia were friends with benefits. At least they were headed for the benefits part, until Sophia had to go and ruin everything by falling in love. So he did what any other sane bachelor would do, he cut his losses and left.

You don’t know what you got until it’s gone.
It didn’t take Ethan long to realize he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. When he walked away from Sophia, he left his heart behind. Now he needs regain her trust and show her that loving Sophia was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Lovely New Cover

2010-01-16T09:57:00.002-05:00

Summer Devon and I will be teaming up for several m/m historicals in 2010. The first, to be released in February at Loose Id, is SEDUCING STEPHEN.

Here's our brand new cover, followed by a blurb.
Stephen is visiting the home of a friend during holiday from university when his bed is invaded by a late arriving, drunken houseguest stumbling into the wrong bedroom. From this dubious beginning, a romance slowly develops.

At first Lord Peter Northrup is only interested in the young man as a lusty diversion. He tutors him in the ways of most homosexual liaisons of the time—brief, light, and always temporary. But after he leaves, breaking young Stephen’s heart, he can’t forget him.

Both men grow during their time apart and when they meet again, their affair flames hotter than ever. Is there any possibility for a real relationship between a peer of the realm and a middle-class young man with heavy responsibilities on his shoulders? Will Peter accept the possibility of true love in his shallow life, and will Stephen risk everything and trust a man who’s already hurt him once?

excerpt

Summer 1856
“Gads, there’s a boy in my bed. It’s Christmas come early.”

The laconic drawl jerked Stephen from a deep sleep, snapped him awake and set him bolting upright, blinking in the candlelight at the dark devil who stood over him. He gasped for breath and sputtered for an answer, but words failed him, as they so often did. “Who?” “Why?” and “What?” all stuck to his tongue, and only an anguished, stammering “w-w-w-w” came from his throat.

The man shed his midnight jacket and began to unbutton his gleaming white shirt. His shoulders broad, his back ramrod straight, his dark hair falling in loose curls around harsh, shadowed features -- he was Stephen’s every nighttime fantasy made flesh, the fascinating, frightening creature of erotically charged dreams, the man who would touch him in ways he’d only furtively touched himself up to now.

“Shove over then, and make room for an old man on the warm side of the bed.” The devil’s quiet chuckle was like fingernails scraping Stephen’s spine. “Well, perhaps not old. I prefer to think of myself as seasoned, like a good piece of meat.”

“W-who…?” Stephen finally managed to blurt. He was deeply aware of the man’s gaze lingering on his bare chest, so he pulled his gaping nightshirt closed.

“Lord Northrup, Earl of Stafford, but you may call me Peter since it appears we’re going to be such intimate companions as to share sleeping quarters.” He pulled the shirt off his shoulders, and the candlelight made his skin glow golden. Shadows delineated the muscles of his biceps and chest. A darker shadow of hair furred his pectorals and his flat belly.

“I’m not one to raise a fuss in the middle of the night, when it’s my fault for arriving so late to the party. So, my lad, I’m willing to share if you are.”

Stephen could no longer manage so much as a vowel. He was struck speechless by the outspoken earl who made suggestive comments without a thought for how they might be construed by a stranger. The man was stripping off his boots and breeches now. What kind of an earl traveled without a valet to help him with his attire?

When the stranger tossed back the covers and started to climb into the tall bed, Stephen scooted over as fast as a fox chased by hounds. The man wore no nightshirt. He was barely clothed in drawers, the drawstring of which was tied loosely so they hung halfway down his hips. Before Northrup pulled the covers over himself, Stephen beheld the shallow indentations below each hipbone and the shape of his erect cock beneath the undergarment.

“Sir, I could go elsewhere,” Stephen finally said with a gasp. “It’s no b-bother at all for me to move to another room.”

One dark brow rose high as Northrup settled back against the pillow, an arm behind his head. The position lifted his chest, and Stephen’s gaze was drawn to the hard nubs of his brown nipples. “Come now. No need to keep pretending. I know Euphemia Pratt and her pranks. This is the room she always gives me. If she placed you in my bed, it’s for a good reason. One I think we’ll both enjoy.”

Beneath the covers, Stephen pinched his forearm, checking to see if he was perhaps still asleep. This was the stuff of dreams, waking up to the impossible fact of a handsome man making sexual suggestions -- and reaching for him under the covers.

The young man flinched when a warm, heavy hand settled on his thigh, burning through the light cotton of his nightshirt, but his cock swelled, thrilled at the touch. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. He smelled the fresh scent of night air and a whiff of whiskey on his late night visitor.

“Will you deny Mrs. Pratt told you to expect me?”

Here it was -- the moment for him to explain this was a huge misunderstanding, a double booking of one of the bedrooms. He was a friend of Brian Pratt, come to visit over the holidays. All he had to do was protest and climb out from under the bedcovers. But Stephen felt paralyzed by the hand on his thigh, sliding nearer his groin. He held utterly still, kept his denial to himself, and held his breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

The demon gazed at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re a very pretty one, with your tawny, tousled hair and that pouting lower lip. However, I’d like to see more of you. Why don’t you take off that rather unattractive nightshirt and show me.”

Another hard swallow, and Stephen moved to obey. It was as if Northrup was a hypnotizing cobra and he a quivering rodent eager to be eaten up. With shaking fingers, he gathered the soft cotton of his nightshirt, pulled it over his head, and tossed it onto the floor. He tried to convince himself he had no choice, that he had to obey the earl’s commanding tone, but deep inside he knew the truth. This was something he’d craved for a very long time -- for someone to take control and “force” him to give in to his natural inclinations.

“My God,” the earl muttered, his gaze raking Stephen’s body and setting his flesh afire. He reached out a hand and rested the palm against the younger man’s chest, then slid it down from chest to groin.

Stephen’s stomach muscles trembled and his cock hardened further. Northrup focused his gleaming eyes on the erect shaft. “No drawers beneath your sleeping attire? Now tell me you weren’t expecting me, my lad.”

A grin transformed the man’s severe features into the face of a fallen angel -- once holy, now dark and dangerous. “Don’t look so frightened. I’m not going to hurt you.” His hand curved around Stephen’s cock and gripped it, squeezing lightly. “Much. What’s your name?”

“S-stephen.”

“Pleased to meet you, Stephen. Now we’ve introduced ourselves, why don’t you come here and get to know me better?” The earl’s hand snaked around the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

Heart nearly choking him, Stephen leaned over the other man’s reclining body, naked chest to chest. His lips touched another man’s for the first time in his life. Warm, moist, moving, Northrup’s mouth was a living thing, and the touch of it thrilled him. Their breath mingled. Stephen tasted the sharp, oaken flavor of whiskey. Was the earl drunk? Would he be angry when he realized what he’d done while in his cups?

But from his words and actions, it seemed Lord Northrup was accustomed to having men in his bed. He wouldn’t have later regrets such as Stephen might have. No regrets now, however. Stephen pushed guilt and doubt from his mind, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips more firmly against the soft mouth.

Shifters' Captive now available

2010-01-08T05:38:00.004-05:00

Shifters' Captive is available at Samhain and up to #2 at MB&M.
Reviewer Beth Senter from Paranormal Romance says:
Bonnie Dee's Shifters' Captive is smoking hot from page one. I could not put this one down, it is filled with plot twists and turns that leave you turning pages wondering what will happen next. This is one of the hottest eBooks I have read. But unlike most eBooks it offers more than just steamy sex, it also offers a great story line as well. You will fall in love with Grant and John. I recommend this to anyone looking for a good story with naughty sex scenes that will leave you panting for more.

Waitress Sherrie Stolz never thought she’d need her chatting-up skills to play along with a hot, sexy kidnapper who rants about were-animals and psychic possession. Then he proves his story by changing into a wolf before her eyes.

Human contact never interested John Walker, but his mission is desperate. The pack seer insists Sherrie is the only one who can save his people from a rash of mysterious comas. His connection with Sherrie is instant, powerful and beyond rational explanation. And then a third piece of the puzzle enters the picture.

Grant Perron follows his instincts only to find his prize in the hands of his rival. He’s poised for battle—until he learns his panther shifter clan suffers the same fate as John’s pack. But there’s more. When the three of them touch, the primal, erotic power surge swells like the waves of an earthquake.

Sherrie’s hands—and bed—are suddenly full, figuring out how to manage two snarling alpha males without giving in to the urge to knock their heads together. And channel her new-found power before a villain uses it to destroy them all…

Read on for an excerpt... Sherrie clung to the chair she’d cracked over the stranger’s head and stared at his sprawled, naked body. She was shaking and her heart pounded so hard she felt light-headed. Two nights in a row of strange men accosting her was too much. Sick of being some kind of pawn in this bizarre new world she’d stumbled across, she was half tempted to bat John with the chair too, as he morphed into human form.

“Who is this guy? Another one of your pals? I saw him start to change.”

“No. Not one of my clan. He’s a panther shifter. I can smell the cat in him.”

John tied the man to one of the chairs—not the one Sherrie had hit him with, which was broken. She grabbed one of the chair legs, avoiding the splinters, and tore it off, intending to use it as a club if necessary. By the time John had finished binding the stranger, he was wrapped like a mummy and he was beginning to regain consciousness.

Sherrie put on her waitress uniform while keeping an eye on the blond stranger. He was basketball-star tall and muscled like a linebacker. It was a wonder he hadn’t killed John with one swipe of his big hand. She couldn’t help but notice the ridged muscles of his abdomen and his flaccid cock—uncircumcised like John’s, large and framed against tawny hair. A surge of lust shot through her, and she tore her gaze away from his genitals.

After slipping on her shoes, she picked up her makeshift club. The panther-shifter’s amber eyes opened and focused on her. They were almond shaped, giving him an Asian appearance at odds with his Nordic fairness. He stared at her until John punched him in the chest then his gaze narrowed and swung to the other man. A snarl curled his lips, and a growl rumbled through him.

Sherrie’s skin prickled at the bestial sound, and her nipples tightened. As her thighs tensed, she was ashamed of her body’s perverse reaction. Had she become some kind of thrill-seeker, turned on by dangerous strangers and edgy situations?
“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?” John demanded.

At first it seemed the prisoner wouldn’t reply. He looked like he’d rather swallow broken glass than give John the satisfaction of an answer, but at last he snapped, “Here for the girl, just like you.”

“How’d you know about her? Who sent you?” John leaned close, but not so close that the prisoner could hit him with an unexpected head butt.

“No one. Followed a dream.”

“What?”

“You know what I’m talking about. I found her the same way you did—dreamed about her. She’s the one.”

“Whoa!” Sherrie interrupted, stepping forward and brandishing her club. “I keep telling you all, I’m not special. I’m just a normal person.”

His eyes looked deep within her as John had done earlier, and he shook his head. “No. You’re not.”

John was gazing at her too now. Two pairs of eyes, warm brown and amber ale, stripped her more naked than she’d been without her clothes on.

“Have some of your people died too?” John asked.

He nodded. “People slip into a coma and waste away like something is draining their lives.”

“So you dreamed about Sherrie and tracked her here?”

“Thanks for bringing her halfway. Made it easier for me.”

“If you think I’m going to let you have her, you’re wrong.”

“What are you going to do, kill me and set off another war?” He sneered.
They glared at each other. With that much testosterone charging the air, Sherrie realized she’d have to keep the peace.

“No one’s having me. If you’d both calm down and listen to each other, maybe you’d realize you’re on the same page looking for a solution to this psychic sickness that’s infected your people. You should be working together.”

How calm and reasonable she sounded, as if her legs weren’t trembling and her stomach churning. As if it wasn’t bizarre to be discussing a psychic illness with a pair of shapeshifters. She hadn’t realized she had such cast iron nerve in her—although it had taken quite a lot of that in L.A. to go to countless auditions for parts she never got.

John tore his angry gaze away from the stranger long enough to look at Sherrie and listen to her. He gave a grudging nod before glaring at the panther-shifter once more. “All right. Talk.”

“What’s your name?” Sherrie asked, trying to change the tone from a confrontational grilling to more polite conversation.

The almond eyes turned toward her and flicked up and down her body before meeting hers. “Grant Perron.”

“I’m Sherrie Stoltz. This is John Walker.”

“I know who you are and I don’t care who he is.”

“You know my name? How could you possibly know that?” For some reason, that little detail seemed more incredible than the heaping mounds of impossible she’d already swallowed today.

“I told you. I dreamed about you and then I came to find you.” The words sounded like a purr, a velvet-pawed caress that sent warm chills down Sherrie’s back.
“So what do your dreams tell you about me? What am I supposed to do?” Sherrie asked. As she moved closer to the two men, the prickling feeling all over her skin increased. Her hair rose as if charged by static electricity, and lust blossomed in her erogenous zones. Her body ached to be filled as if she hadn’t just had a good pounding by John a few hours earlier.

“Find him, face him.”

“Find who?” John shook Grant’s face, trying to pull his focus away from Sherrie.
She could feel the jealousy rolling off him in waves. He didn’t like Grant being around her. He already considered Sherrie “his”. While his possessiveness was flattering and a part of her responded with an aroused thrill, jealousy didn’t help the situation.

“Touch me again and I’ll rip off your face,” the other shifter announced in a velvety rumble. “I’m talking to the girl.”

Sherrie rolled her eyes and repeated John’s question. “Who is this person? What does he want, how’s he doing what he’s doing and how can we stop him?”

Grant smiled, and his dour expression cracked. If his body was athlete fine, his smile was movie-actor beautiful. “I thought you’d be the one with the answers.”

She didn’t like how he made her feel all fluttery inside, so she snapped, “Well I’m not. I have no clue about any of this and especially not my part in it.”

John had stepped back from the captive and stood with his arms crossed over his naked chest. He’d slipped into his jeans, but was still distractingly shirtless. “Dreams led you here, huh? How do we know you’re not in league with this guy?”

Grant rolled his eyes, dismissing the suggestion. “Do you think these ropes could hold me if I didn’t want to be held? I’m only talking with you because the girl’s right, we need to share what we know and come up with a solution.”

John pulled up a chair and straddled it, facing the other man. “It’s been a little over a month since the first person in our pack got sick. It took several cases before anyone saw a pattern. Our wisewoman had a dream about Sherrie like you did, and I went to bring her here.”
Sherrie continued the story. “Nothing remotely psychic has ever happened to me before, but he showed me a little girl in one of these comas and when I touched her, I saw inside her mind. I experienced everything she did including the being who’s keeping her prisoner. He’s sucking up her energy while keeping her unconscious.”

“They’re his prisoners on an astral plane,” Perron said matter-of-factly, as if he dealt with the otherworldly all the time. “But if he has a physical body, we can destroy it.”

“What if killing him doesn’t set them free? What if they die when he dies? We’ve got to be careful.” John rose and paced the room, reminding Sherrie of wolves she’d seen in a zoo habitat walking the perimeter of their enclosure.

“We need to take action. Cut me loose and I’ll handle it.” Grant strained against his bonds, finally showing some impatience. Sherrie didn’t doubt he could break them as promised if he turned into a mountain lion. Although the idea terrified her, a small part of her wanted to see that.

John stopped pacing to glare at him again. “What are you going to do? Your kind is so impetuous. Taking action isn’t the same as taking the right action.”
“And taking no action is the wolf way. You have endless councils before you make a decision about anything.”

“Enough. John. Untie him. He’s not our prisoner. He’s an ally. And you, Cat-man, remember you came here for me. Whatever you do, I must be a part of it, so let’s think this through and come up with a solution before you go off half-cocked.”
For a girl who tended toward impetuosity herself, she sounded remarkably like a schoolteacher—Let’s work together, class. The only problem was she had no idea what direction their plan should take.

John turned to Perron. “She’s right. We have to lay our differences aside.”
The other man’s lips twisted in a smile that seemed more like a snarl. “Untie me. I’ll be a team player.”

Summer Devon's public image

2010-01-07T09:37:00.003-05:00

Talk about mystique! Talk about fabulous press! Here's a description of me from the Washington Post site.**

a bawdy, saucy wench -- an unapologetic peddler of smut named Kate Rothwell, who writes steamy bodice-ripping novels under the sultry pen name Summer Devon.

It's only a pity that that description is forever bound up with a crappy 1991 Mazda with "genuine hobo barf stains" on the door, the car I bought by accident.

______

** you have to scroll past the poignant poem and the ALL IN CAPS HATE MAIL, but I'm there.

Happy New Year!

2010-01-01T09:11:00.002-05:00

May you find everything you're searching for in 2010, whether it be a new love, the secrets of the universe or a lost sock.

I'm starting the year off with a new release on January 5 from Samhain, SHIFTERS' CAPTIVE. So if you're into menage stories or shapeshifters, this one's for you.

Animal attraction is the essence of their power…Magical Ménages, Book 1

Waitress Sherrie Stolz never thought she’d need her chatting-up skills to play along with a hot, sexy kidnapper who rants about were-animals and psychic possession. Then he proves his story by changing into a wolf before her eyes.

Human contact never interested John Walker, but his mission is desperate. The pack seer insists Sherrie is the only one who can save his people from a rash of mysterious comas. His connection with Sherrie is instant, powerful and beyond rational explanation. And then a third piece of the puzzle enters the picture.

Grant Perron follows his instincts only to find his prize in the hands of his rival. He’s poised for battle—until he learns his panther shifter clan suffers the same fate as John’s pack. But there’s more. When the three of them touch, the primal, erotic power surge swells like the waves of an earthquake.

Sherrie’s hands—and bed—are suddenly full, figuring out how to manage two snarling alpha males without giving in to the urge to knock their heads together. And channel her new-found power before a villain uses it to destroy them all…

Would You Rather

2009-12-30T00:14:00.006-05:00

I got an itouch for Christmas. Boy it did not take me long to fall in love with the thing. The apps are great. One of these apps I want to share with ya'll... Would You Rather?

Would you rather…
have an orgasm once a year OR once every ten minutes?
have sex with Moe, Larry, OR Curlie?
have a partner with 6 inches OR 10 inches?
have sex with 2 men OR 1 man and 1 woman?
use a vibrator OR partner's fingers?
catch your parents having sex OR have your parents catch you masturbating?
give up kissing OR give up oral sex?
get free chocolate for 1 year OR get free books for 10 years?

***
once a year
Curlie
6 inches
2 men
fingers
catch parents
kissing
chocolate

New Year's Resolution: No More Piracy in 2010

2009-12-22T01:54:00.000-05:00

The first decade of the century is drawing to a close. No one can argue that we haven't seen some incredible changes since 2000 dawned. From politics to technology to society, we seem to be changing at a pace almost too rapid to keep up with.

One of those changes - probably one not many people consider that groundbreaking - is ebooks. I don't recall buying any in the 90's and the idea of reading a book on a little device in my hand would have seemed incredibly unsatisfying. Books were paper, something to buy in a store and store on a shelf. But like so many other readers, I discovered ebooks and grew to love them and then started writing them.

There are pluses and minuses to writing ebooks. But one of the minuses seems to be growing in scope and it's a big one: piracy. Stealing ebooks is pretty easy. Whether you're simply emailing a copy of an ebook to ten of your friends or downloading books for free at numerous pirate sites, you're stealing. Of course, it doesn't feel that way because it's not like slipping something into your pocket at the store. There's rarely any danger to it and there's a tendency to feel that any content found online should be free.

But make no mistake - it is stealing. It takes money from writers and their families. More and more I hear from other authors whose books are being paid for once and then multipled for free an infinite number of times. Today I received an alert that someone was searching for my entire backlist, save one book, for free. I wanted to email the reader just to remind them that I was a real person, with real bills to pay, just like them. I wanted to ask what they did for a living and how they would feel if they got a paycheck that had been cut in half, even though they worked the same number of hours as usual. Yes, times are tough out there, and I understand the impetus to get something for free instead of forking over a few dollars. But times are tough for everyone and that includes the author you're robbing.

At the end of the day, it's about doing what's right - but it's also about supporting the authors you like. Royalty checks are what enable writers to go on writing. Take that away and you force writers to spend their time making money in other ways - and that means fewer of the books you love.

Loving Sophia

2009-12-22T00:00:00.001-05:00

Got the cover for Loving Sophia. Release date is mid-Jan.

What happens when you play with fire? You get burned.
Dating Ethan James was risky, but it was a risk Sophia was willing to take. The heat and passion blazed between them hotter than the sun. Sophia was sure she had found the one. So sure she told him she loved him. Only to watch him turn and walk away.

Love ’em and Leave ’em
It was just for fun. A few dates, a few laughs. The way Ethan saw it, he and Sophia were friends with benefits. At least they were headed for the benefits part, until Sophia had to go and ruin everything by falling in love. So he did what any other sane bachelor would do, he cut his losses and left.

You don’t know what you got until it’s gone.
It didn’t take Ethan long to realize he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. When he walked away from Sophia, he left his heart behind. Now he needs regain her trust and show her that loving Sophia was the best thing that ever happened to him.

2009-12-21T00:39:00.004-05:00

Thanks to the ladies at Erotic Muses for giving me a little face time today. I thought I’d put my latest cover up as well.

Dangerous Beauty - part of the Hearts Afire series at Liquid Silver Books. Stephanie Irene Nolan, Sin, doesn’t think she’s very pretty. As an ex-Marine, two tours in Iraq have left her scarred and a little battered. An adrenaline junkie hiding out in small town Colorado, she prides herself in being just as strong, just as fast, and a hell of a lot brighter than any man. That is until she meets her match in the annual Bucket Brigade run.

Brandon Long, ex-pudge and computer nerd, has been in love with Sin longer than she could ever guess. A man with a purpose, he sets out to win the race, then win her heart.

What neither of them knows is that while they’re dancing the delicate dance of courtship and love, someone other than Cupid has them in his crosshairs. Danger, humor, and some really hot sex set the sheets and the boarding house on fire in this tale of love lost, love found, and death defied.

You can learn more about Sin and Dangerous Beauty here.

Thanks for dropping by.

Roscoe James

Riding Summer's coattails...

2009-12-18T11:02:00.003-05:00

Because I've been horribly remiss in posting at all, I will very lazily piggypack on Kate/Summer's post of yesterday and put up my cover for my contribution to ARE. Thanks for posting the details Kate.

I've been really bad about doing any promo or posting lately. I've just been writing, writing, writing...mostly working on a YA zombie story that has won a couple of contests so a pair of editors are looking at the opening. Fingers crossed they'll ask for more.

A new Cover...have a heart

2009-12-17T09:45:00.008-05:00

I've been working on my Kate Rothwell books lately but I do have a Summer Devon bit of news--or rather I have something to show you. I just got my cover for "Protecting Miss Samuels" a historical short story that'll be in the ARe collection.

This is the first time I've seen one of my covers and thought hey! That's my character in the flesh!

Here, making its public debut, is my new cover.

Being a hypercritical person I'm also thinking the fashionable yet virginal Miss Samuels wouldn't wear such large jewelry or a low-cut gown like that, but that's okay. Her face is absolutely perfect and I love the slightly muted colors of the cover.

I've seen a number of covers from this big All Eromance fundraiser, and I've liked them all. I've also read Bonnie Dee's story and can tell you it's a treat.

Want to know more about the great collection? Here. I'm stealing the information straight from Jackie Kessler's blog.

28 Days of Heart!

All Romance eBooks Has Heart…

Just ask the American Heart Association. During the month of love, when everyone’s attention is focused on matters of the heart, All Romance eBooks (www.allromance.com) will help fight the number one killer of women, heart disease with the 28 Days of Heart campaign.

Beginning February 1, 2010, ARe will release one new short story per day for the entire month. All proceeds from the sale of these shorts, which will be offered exclusively on AllRomance.com as individual eBooks, will be donated to the American Heart Association (www.americanheart.org).

The stories cover all the genres, from gay to interracial, paranormal to historical, contemporary to sci fi. They were generously donated by both best-selling and up-and-coming authors from some of your favorite publishers including Kensington, Berkley, Pocket, St. Martin’s Press, Ellora’s Cave, Cerridwen, Samhain, Total E Bound, Loose Id, Phaze, Liquid Silver, Torquere Press, Siren, Amber Quill and more!

The stories range between 9,000 and 20,000 words so they are a perfect sweet (or more accurately spicy) Valentine treat. Each include a forward by author Charlaine Harris (of True Blood fame) as a show of support for the charity the stories will benefit. Enjoy one of each and know you are helping a good cause at the same time.

ARe’s 28 DAYS OF HEART Release Schedule:

1- Exchange of Hearts by G.A. Hauser (Gay, Contemporary)
2- Wild Child by Shelley Munro (Contemporary)
3- Zero-G by Michele Hart (Sci-Fi)
4- Moonlit Watcher by Crystal-Rain Love (Werewolf, I/R, Contemp)
5- Unshuttered by Emery Sanborne & Philippa Grey-Gerou (Contemp)
6- A Fair Trade by BA Tortuga (Gay, Shape-shifter, Western)
7- Hell’s Angel by Jackie Kessler (Paranormal)
8- Country Loving by Robin Leigh Miller (Thriller, Contemporary)
9- Liberating Lucius by Bonnie Dee (Historical Ancient)
10- A Shadow’s Kiss by Barbara J. Hancock (Para, Vampire, Contemp)
11- Touch of Fire by Samantha Sommersby (Contemporary)
12- Love is Blindness by Sean Michael (Gay, Vampire, Contemporary)
13- Tor: Viking Master by Ellen Margret (Historical Ancient)
14- Hold Onto the Night by Kari Thomas (Contemporary)
15- Bride of Fire by Charlene Teglia (Fantasy, Greek Gods)
16- Mad About Meg by Mari Carr (Contemporary)
17- Vanilla with Extra Nuts by Victoria Blisse (M/M/F, Rubenesque, Cont)
18- Protecting Miss Samuels by Summer Devon (Historical)
19- Private Lies by Cat Johnson (Contemporary)
20- Timeless Voyage by Cornelia Amiri (Historical Ancient)
21- GPS by Leigh Ellwood (Gay, Contemporary)
22-And She Scores by Tilly Greene (Contemporary)
23- Stay with Me by Alisha Steele (Fantasy, Greek Gods)
24- Angels & Genies by K.F. Zuzulo (Paranormal, Contemporary
25- Love Unleashed by Marcia James (Contemporary)
26- A Slightly Different Perfect by Sylvia Shults (Fantasy, Gods, RomCom
27- Sweets by E. Cameron Stacy (Contemporary)
28- Sea of Sin by India Harper (Gay, Contemporary)

February's going to be a fun month. . .

Help For The Holidays

2009-12-15T00:22:00.003-05:00

If you're like me, you are in the thick of holiday chaos right now. Shopping, traveling, deadlines, cleaning - sometimes preparing for a vacation is more stressful than just normal life. See below for a few sites to make things a little easier.

Store Adore

The best boutique, personalized shopping around. Don't bother with mall craziness! Shop online.

Gift Genius

So helpful for that hard-to-buy-for person.

Cheapism

Where to find it the cheapest.

Open Table

Open Table makes entertaining out so easy.

Hostess Blog

But if you do want to entertain in, this is full of great ideas.

Drinks Mixer

The ultimate guide for your New Year's party....

See Jane Work

Excellent site to organize your workspace for the new year.

Gazelle

The holidays are a great time to gather up your old iPods, phones, camcorders and defunct old gadgets and sell them off here for cash.

What Are Women Looking For in a Man?

2009-12-14T06:00:00.009-05:00

We write and read romance—man meets woman, they dance around each other, flirt and engage in mating rituals, then they fall in love and live happily ever after. That’s pretty simplistic because there is lots of stuff that happens in between. First of all the man and woman have to meet. We all have things we’re looking for in our partners. They might include:

1. A particular look – we all have physical traits that work for us such as sexy eyes, height, hair color etc

2. Smile – a sexy smile lights up a face

3. Confidence

4. Personality – a winning one

5. A sense of humor

6. Intelligent

7. Good manners

8. Sincere and considerate

9. A good first impression

In my recent release Soldier of Fortune the heroine Mac isn’t looking for a man or at least that’s what she tells herself. Yet the first time they met, Louie had everything Mac was looking for—looks, smile, confidence and intelligence. Now, at their second meeting she’s fighting the instinct to jump him.

Louie kept coming but Mac held her ground, refusing to let him intimidate her. Finally he halted, standing close enough for the heat emanating off his muscular body to bring another rush of memories. She drew a ragged breath, shoving aside the frisson of awareness. Not gonna happen.

This was work.

At almost six foot, she was tall, but he towered over her, forcing Mac to crane her neck to look him in the eye. “You told me you were a lawyer, not that we did much talking while we were in Fiji.” She caught the flare of his nostrils, the slight narrowing of his eyes and knew Louie wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended.

“You can’t stay.”

“I’ve signed a contract.”

“You’re a woman.”

“Give the man a prize.” Mac wanted to say a lot more but bit down on her tongue, figuring she’d better not cuss her new boss. The necessity to prove herself in the male-dominated occupation wore thin after a while. “I’m ex-army with ten years experience. I’ve worked in Afghanistan for six months. I’m good at my job or I wouldn’t be in Iraq.”

“It’s dangerous. People die here.” Louie’s gaze drifted across her lips, settled for an instant before he backed up and glanced away.

“That’s why I came. To help keep workers safe during the reconstruction process. I want to make a difference, and besides, this is the only way to make quick money.” And boy did she need it.

“Your presence is going to be a problem.”

Mac’s mouth dropped open. Once she realized, she slammed it shut so quickly her teeth clacked.

“Oh yeah? Frightened you can’t keep your hands off?” He sure as hell hadn’t called that a problem when they were in Fiji. Mac quivered inside, her breasts prickling when she remembered how it had been—the hot, urgent hunger between them. The sweet release of tension.

“This has nothing to do with sex. It’s about how the men will feel working with a woman. It will divide their concentration.”

“Bullshit,” Mac snarled, sick of fighting the same old skirmish. She advanced on Louie, poking her finger at his chest to punctuate her words. “I’m a soldier the same as the rest. It doesn’t matter what sex I am. I’m here to do a job and that’s what I’ll do.”

They stared at each other, exchanging a wealth of information and emotions without speaking a word—determination, defiance, irritation. Desire.

“Hell.” Louie dragged a hand through his dark curls, a clear indication of his inner turmoil.

Mac remained glued to the spot, adrenaline pumping hard and fast through her body. She swallowed and mentally shook herself free of the spell she’d fallen under. Louie’s presence wouldn’t be a problem. She wouldn’t let it.

What do you look for in a man? What characteristics draw you to a partner?

Shelley Munro writes contemporary and paranormal erotic romance for Ellora’s Cave and Samhain Publishing. You can visit Shelley at www.shelleymunro.com

Loving Sophia update

2009-12-09T00:27:00.004-05:00

Loving Sophia. Edits are DONE!

Loving Sophia should be released in January YEAH! I haven't got a cover image yet. But I'll post it as soon as I get one.

Picking up a shrimp he deftly peeled it and dipped it into the melted butter. She couldn’t take her eyes off the deft movement of his hands. Beautiful hands. Talented hands. Simply thinking about them on her skin had her nipples peaking.
Their eyes met. His intent was plain to see. He’d played nice long enough. He wanted her and tonight he was going to have her. Sophia felt the sexual current zap between them. Holding her gaze, he lifted the shrimp. “Open up.”
Sophia let her mouth fall open and he dropped the shrimp in. The taste of butter, garlic, and shrimp exploded on her tongue.
He hand fed her. Alternating shrimp and oysters, dipping them in butter before lifting them to her mouth. Only a native would understand he was courting her. Oysters were a bitch to shuck, the sharp shells rough on the hands. While peeling shrimp was tedious.
With each bite, the sexual tension between them cranked up a notch until she could barely swallow. Heavy-lidded eyes watched as she licked the butter from her lips. A flame leapt to life in his eyes and answering heat bloomed in her as well. Never again would she doubt the aphrodisiac qualities of seafood.
“No more.” Sophia muttered. “I’m stuffed”
“Just one more bite.” Ethan cajoled, showing her the oyster he’s just shucked. “Now look at this one. Isn’t she a beauty?” It lay nestled in the half-shell. Large, moist, the edges delicately ruffled and lined in black, the sight was suggestive and she understood why some considered the delicacy to be a sexual stimulant.
“Think of the taste. Warm, slightly salty, mouth-watering and satisfying. It’ll slide down your throat, nice and easy.” Ethan murmured.
Sophia felt a flush crawl up her neck. The sight of the oyster fired her imagination while his words heated her blood. Warm. Salty. Slide down her throat.
Leaning over he rubbed the slippery morsel across her bottom lip. “Just open up… and let me in.” Unable to resist, Sophia parted her lips. He lifted the morsel to her mouth, lightly rubbing the slick, salty bite along her bottom lip before placing it on her tongue. She never took her gaze from his.
Let me in. He asked. Yes. That was exactly what she wanted to do. Let him in. Feel him moving against her, in her. Sophia swallowed. He was right, the shellfish slid down her throat effortlessly.
“Are you ready?” His question was slow, quiet. He was asking more than just if she was ready to leave.
Was she ready? Such a simple yet complex question.
Yes. She was.
Sophia felt herself nodding. Desire and satisfaction flared in his eyes with her consent. She was agreeing to more than just leaving the restaurant. They both knew it.
“Good.” He glanced down to find the check. Sophia used the second to close her eyes and take a deep breath.
Ethan’s muttered, “Well I’ll be damned ” had her popping them back open. He stared down at the shell in his hands, an arrested look on his face.
“What?” She leaned forward to see what had his attention.
“Look.” He tilted the shell.
Sophia caught her breath. “Oh Ethan. A pearl.” Over the years, she’d seen many half-formed pearls melded to the inside of an oyster shell. Never, not once had she found one like this. It rested in the center of the shell, oblong, off-white, about the size of her pinkie fingernail.
“Here,” he plucked it out of the shell, took her hand, and dropped it into her palm. “The pearl is a wonder of nature. Something rare and priceless. A treasure to be kept and protected.”
“You should keep it.” Sophia tried to hand it back to him. Ethan covered her hand with his, closing hers into a fist in the process.
“No. I want you to have it.” He stared earnestly into her eyes. “I want you to keep it and think of us.” This time she didn’t object to him pairing them as a couple.
“Why?” She asked softly.
“The pearl starts out as a mistake, an irritating piece of sand that the oyster can’t get out of its life. So it adjusts, and over time something wonderful, and rare, and unique is created.” His voice was low, solemn.
Sophia’s heart pounded heavily in her chest. She knew what he was saying. It was poetic, it was beautiful. It was the closest he had come to telling her how he felt.
“So then though what we’ve found isn’t perfect. It’s rare, and I want you to keep it. Treasure it. Love it, no matter that it’s far from perfect.”

Have Yourself A Kinky Little Christmas

2009-12-08T00:16:00.012-05:00

Have you been naughty or nice in 2009? Either way, here's the sexiest holiday auction this season : Fetlife is holding an amazing Christmas giveaway featuring 218 gifts worth almost $25,000!

"Sit On Kinky Santa's Lap" offers expensive gifts worth hundreds of dollars, including gorgeous corsets, high-quality sex toys, erotic art, bondage kits, floggers, lingerie and more. You will be asked to select your top three choices so choose carefully!

You can visit here for a look at all the goodies.... and with any luck, you'll be celebrating Christmas and New Year's in style. ;)

Photo courtesy of malesubmissionart.com.

Split Personalities

2009-12-07T00:00:00.001-05:00

First of all, thanks to the gals here at Erotic Muses for inviting me to hang out here today!

Someone asked me recently what kind of romance I write, and I was at a loss. The easier question is, "What kind of romance don't I write?" It all depends on my mood, because frankly, sometimes I want dark, sometimes I want quiet, sometimes I want kinky. I write both het and m/m, as well as menages. And genre? Don't get me started there. I think one of the few I haven't put my hand to is inspirational.

My two latest stories with Liquid Silver are fairly indicative of my split personality. In August, LSB re-released my first book - with heavy editing, it's amazing how much you can learn in just a few short years, lol. Chains of Jericho is a het vampire story, heavy on action, lots of plot, dark sex with bloodplay, and the list goes on.

The one about to come out is a quiet contemporary called Colliding in Free Fall, and it's as different from Chains as you can possibly get. To start, it's m/m, that focuses on characters rather than plot, there's no sex until halfway through, and it's got a May/December edge to it as well. Yet, I think both stories are very much a part of me, and accomplished exactly what I wanted in the time frame that I wrote them.

My split personality doesn't actually end with my own work, though. I'm also half of the Jamie Craig writing team, and though we tend to write more m/m under that pseudonym, the genres, heat levels, and moods are as varied as my solo titles. It runs the gamut from our heavily BDSM Master Chronicles, to our sweet and sexy het western, Cowboy Blues.

I wouldn't for a second change how or what I write, but I do find myself wondering what readers think of it. I don't imagine that readers will want to read everything I do. People have specific tastes, and might not care for certain genres. But does the wide proliferation of genres affect how they view me? Does the fact that I write m/m bother my het readers? What about the readers who want the darker stories? Do they get annoyed when I release something sweeter and more vanilla? I've toyed with having a different pseudonym for different types, but frankly, I have two now and don't need any more. And honestly, I'm not going to change what I do. I want to write about romantic relationships, and the truth is, everybody has the capacity to fall in love. Alpha men, gay men, divorced women, bisexuals...I don't care about orientation or body parts. What matters is the heart. Sometimes that means the story that comes is fast-paced and dangerous. Other times, it's a long, slow walk in the woods.

As a reader, how do you feel about authors who write across genres? What expectations do you have? At the end of the day, I'll pick a random commenter to win a free title from either mine or the Jamie Craig backlist.

Vivien
My Website

A Look Behind Seducing a God

2009-11-30T06:39:00.003-05:00

Thanks Lisa and the Muses for having me here today.

My latest print release is the Naughty Nuptials anthology which includes my novel Seducing a God. I’ve been asked how I came up with the concept for Seducing a God.

Seducing a God, was my first book with Ellora’s Cave and I’m taking you into how the story Seducing a God came to be as well as a little about the hero and heroine.

I’ll be honest I hadn’t ever thought of doing a theme story before and never imagined to try for one at EC. After making a tough decision concerning with the path my writing career was taking I was surfing the various publishers for something spicy to read. While at EC I decided to check out the submissions. As I sat there reading the call for submissions and came across the Naughty Nuptials theme my mind started to race and heart started to pound. I went to bed and my mind still raced and I could not sleep. The story was unfolding so fast in my head and I know I had to write it down. So I got up and fleshed out the story for what ended up to be Seducing a God.

My hero Markus M’ar Riage, The God of Matrimony came to me first. He epitomizes everything that love, relationships and marriage is all about. He is strong, gentle, and all out sexy. I knew he needed a woman who although seemingly shy she would knock his socks off.

My heroine, Paula Stroker made her presence know from the beginning. Although she is slightly unsure around me she knows when she sees Markus she wants him. Also she has a unique profession. {You’ll have to read the book to find out}. Paula is a smart; take charge yet vulnerable and sensual woman.

These two characters compliment each other. Yet they face an obstacle Paula has an aversion to marriage and Markus being the God of Matrimony cannot help but believe in all it entails. They led you on a wild ride of sensual pleasure and discovery. Also there are a few other surprises thrown in.

So take a seductive journey with Paula and Markus and let yourself be seduced.

Seducing a God is available at Ellora’s Cave in ebook. The print version is available in the Naughty Nuptials anthology also available at Ellora’s Cave.

Buy in ebook or print: http://www.jasminejade.com/m-302-taige-crenshaw.aspx

Taige Crenshaw
http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/
…increasing the sizzle factor

Blog: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/blog
Chat Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/crenshawcafe
Newsletter: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/newsletterandgroups.shtml
Free Reads Site: http://satinnotes.com/

SOUTHERN GOTHIC is out!

2009-11-24T00:22:00.001-05:00

My latest novel, SOUTHERN GOTHIC, just released from Liquid Silver Books. This is the longest book I've put out thus far and is my first bisexual menage. What isn't new about it? The ghost story. I love writing about ghosts and have built many a book around them. But this book is a little darker and scarier than anything else I've written. Read on for the blurb.

Thirteen years ago, a graduation party went tragically wrong, changing a small Southern town forever. Now every spring, vengeful teenage ghosts unleash a murderous vendetta that no one can stop.

Sutton Pierce, a handsome bisexual novelist with a broken heart, is new in town. All he wants is a secluded place to write his next book and forget the smolderingly sexy boyfriend who betrayed him. He's unprepared for a spooky onset of hauntings - and he's certainly not prepared for his fierce attraction to Hadley Barnes, a ghost-hunting bartender beautiful enough to heal his heart and dangerous enough to break it again.

Their fiery love turns complicated when Sutton's gorgeous exboyfriend tracks them down and stirs up illicit passions none of them know how to handle. When their combustible mix of lust and jealousy ignite, a three-way love affair begins that is as intoxicating as it is scandalous... But their happiness is short-lived when the ghosts set their murderous sights on one of them.

Professional or Amateur?

2009-11-22T06:00:00.000-05:00

No not THAT profession. Writing…I’m talking about writing. Jeesh you’ve got a smutty mind. (Lord love ya for it!)

A few years back I worked for a magazine. A woman phoned, all chipper and effusive to tell me she’d written a children’s book. She’d chosen us (it was a not-for-profit organization) to give all the profits to. All we had to do was publish the book. Um, what profits? although I didn’t voice that. This was her first book, she was unknown so maybe just maybe a publisher would see profit with her third release. Besides, we’d published only two books the previous year, both on religious doctrine written by known authors within our denomination.

She was affronted—then angry. I understood how she felt. I write too and I’ve been rejected. A lot. This was my chance to gently educate her, maybe even encourage her. I asked the usual questions. Which author is your style similar to? Which recent releases have tone or theme close to yours? What publishing houses are printing stuff like your book? She insisted her work was totally original…there was nothing out there like it. Besides, her kids were grown up and she hadn’t read a children’s book in decades. Oh. I suggested she go into a book store, glance through some books, get a feel for what’s currently being published, get some author names and contact them directly for advice. Ask writers with stuff like hers who their publisher is and maybe even more importantly, who their agent is (if they’ve got one).

Angry morphed into outrage. We were obviously unappreciative of the magnificent gift she was offering, inbred and closed minded. I was actually kind of glad when she hung up on me. The problem is, to this day, I worry that I crushed her creative muse. I sincerely hope she’s still writing and looking for a publisher. I just hope she’s figured out how to look for that publisher.

www.gwencampbell.net

Buffy versus Edward

2009-11-19T18:45:00.001-05:00

In honor of the release of New Moon. Probably many of you have already seen this, but it's just priceless so here it is again...Buffy versus Edward

Ancient Erotica

2009-11-18T00:11:00.002-05:00

The Kama Sutra. The ancient Indian manual of love. There are probably not too many people who have not heard of it. It describes 64 different positions. Hmm. Have you seen some of those positions? Well, I have and I'm telling you now - my body doesn't work that way. Neither does my husbands. Check these out.

Favorite Sex Sites

2009-11-10T10:29:00.005-05:00

I forget the actual statistic, but it's well known the Internet is brimming with sex sites; blogs by sex workers, advice columns for dating, networking sites for hook-ups and so on. Unfortunately a lot of them are pretty weak, ranging from simply tame to useless to outright misinformed. As such, I'm posting my favorite sites..... what are yours?

Bitchy Jones
"For the dominant woman" but she has a lot of wise things to say about sex in general.

Vibrator Guide
Because they can be expensive, and it's helpful to check reviews before spending two hundred bucks on what turns out to be a plastic piece of crap.

Fet Life
Networking for the BDSM community - but really there's something here for anyone who's poly, got any kind of fetish or simply likes to get creative.

Seasoned Sex
A site that actually acknowledges older women still like sex. Shocking!

Scarlet Teen
I sent my niece here but in fact it's great reading for anyone.

Hitched Magazine
How to keep those marital files burning. :)

For The Girls
hot naked guys for a woman's eye

Male Submission Art
the sexiest photos on the web, for those of us who like our men on their knees. There's a lot of insightful commentary by the site owner as well.

Vagina Pagina
A pajama party for vaginas. No, I really don't know what the title means but it's a cool site.

I'm always looking for good new sex sites on the web (especially if it has good writing and/or pretty pictures) so share your suggestions...

Perfection? Highly Overrated

2009-11-09T11:10:00.003-05:00

I got a review the other day that said my heroine was just a little too perfect. She wanted to see some flaws. I thought...hm, Me? Writing a PERFECT character? I think not. I'm a big believer in crafting heroes and heroines who, lets face it, just aren't anywhere close to perfect. I started reading romances back at the dawn of time and in those days every heroine had long raven, golden, or brilliant red hair, they were the epitome of female beauty and strength and every man who got within viewing distance was on his knees with lust for her.

Admittedly, as a housewife with a couple of rug rats and a mountain of laundry to do, that concept was rather appealing. At first. As the years rolled on, I began to realize I wanted a little more 'reality' in my heroes and heroines and when I began my writing journey, I tried really hard to make characters who were real and believable. Yes, my alpha man hero, may be drop dead gorgeous but he is certain to have some flaws too. A quick temper, a possessive attitude, a little bit bossy...in and out of the bedroom. Perhaps he has a past and made some mistakes along the way and now he is searching for SOMETHING to make him whole again.

It's the same with heroines. My heroines come in every size and shape and it's my hope they are "everywomen" who could be the friend you come across at the grocery store or at a PTA meeting. They are sometimes a little too 'curvy', too shy, too outspoken, or possess a little too much temper. They often have a past that has caused deep-seated worry and insecurity yet they are survivors who are determined to beat the odds and find happiness.

It is my belief that crafting the perfect character is making them somewhat "imperfect", more relatable, and more real. Don't know about you but reading cardboard cutouts of what a person SHOULD be can be rather boring. Give me an average woman who beats insurmountable odds and triumphs and, to me, that's a perfect heroine. Don't give me supermodels and drop dead gorgeous actresses. Give me school teachers, shop keepers, and florists. Give me some average Janes and Joes who want home and happiness and love.

Thanks for having me today at Erotic Muses! I write for Ellora's Cave and Resplendence Publishing so please stop by and check out hot shifter stories, menage, erotic regency and Texas set contemporaries. I've loved being here!

My links:
http://www.reginacarlysle.com
http://www.reginacarlysle.blogspot.com
http://threewickedwriters.blogspot.com

Supernatural in TV Land

2009-11-06T07:26:00.005-05:00

Is anyone else a sucker for the "fun" episodes of this show? I know the high drama and serious story arc are what Supernatural is about, but I especially love episodes that make me laugh. "Ghost Facers" is still one of my favorites. Plus, I'm always drawn to stories where the characters are stuck in a time warp, TV series or game show. Pleasantville is a good example.

Shows that have done this... Cordelia in that episode of Angel where she explores the path not chosen and stars in her own TV series. Roswell, when the gang is in an episode of Bewitched. I know there's another episode of some show where the characters were stuck jumping from one TV show to the next. What was it? Anyone know what I'm thinking of?

Glogster

2009-11-03T23:33:00.002-05:00

I found the coolest site to create online posters. It only took a matter of minutes to make this one. Wouldn't it be cool to do one for each book?

delicious skin

2009-10-29T08:04:00.004-04:00

Over at Dear Authors, there's a long, controversy-filled thread about race. Parts of it make me want to go find the nearest bar and order up drinks for everyone in the conversation.

But then there's a long riff about skin color and food that got me thinking. People are objecting to food and drink being used to describe a hero/heroine's color. Cafe au lait, cinnamon, mocha, caramel, chocolate...you've probably seen the descriptions used before. Yet as someone else pointed out, it goes for the paler among us as well. Peaches and cream, white as milk, a cheek like a ripe peach. Everyone gets a skin as food comparison.

I think it's clear that people writing romance know that mouths and sexual tension just go together naturally from the kiss to the skin lick. I don't think it's out of line--it's natural. We want to know the color of the characters' skin and we want to be aroused slightly by that color. Or at least not turned off. ("He was lovely and as brown as the pile of dead leaves outside the house.")

On the other hand? I do think there could be a bit more variety in the descriptions. I wandered around my kitchen looking for food that's tasty and could be skin color.

Hmmm We have some flan, but that would be someone who needs to see a doctor about a liver condition. Yellow. Definitely a problem with jaundice. The flip side of pale flan is yummy caramel, but that's been done.

Oh, yes, dark rum. Yup. And lighter rum for people like me (who get sunburned easily) Bourbon! Yes! How about Bailey's Irish Cream? Or don't we want to get into brand names? I wish my liquor cabinet was a little more expansive. I could pour out samples and see if they fit. And then get sloshed at 8:30 am.

Okay there's the cooking sherry which is also fairly yellow but a pretty color. How's about the chicken I cooked last night? It's an accurate match for a pale skinned Caucasian, on the other hand, I think dead flesh only works for say, a vampire. Banana flesh? Too phallic and too damned pale. Apple cheeks! With the delicious juicy flesh of the apple. It's just as pale as the banana but somehow less bizarre.

Hazelnuts are a lovely color. Shiny too. But how many people have seen hazelnuts? What about peanut butter? A pretty tan. Too bad it's associated with an elementary school kid's lunch (or his really horrible allergy.)

My kitchen table's a nice color, but eh, we already know the ebony and mahogany are overdone. And oak? That's odd. I see it as limb description all the time ("his legs were sturdy as oak trunks" Or something) but as a color. Not as much. Cherry wood is gorgeous. I'd love to see a cherry wood colored person--I doubt I ever will and I doubt I'd write about it....

I don't think we have any real ivory here, but I think it's as pale as that banana I left back in the kitchen.

All this talk of food is making me hungry. I'm going to go eat my cheerios. Which really do look like a skin color.....Hmmmm.

"The flesh of his back, glowing pale gold as Cheerios....."

Have a Good Day

2009-10-28T00:00:00.000-04:00

I've not had the best time the last few weeks. I'm in need of a laugh. So I thought I'd share a joke or two.

To A Beautiful Woman

Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the Lord my shape to keep.
Please no wrinkles, please no bags, and please lift my butt before it sags.
Please no age spots, please no gray, and as for my belly, please take it away.
Please keep me healthy, please keep me young, and thank you Dear Lord for all that you've done.

***********************
Five tips for a woman....
1. It is important that a man helps you around the house and has a job.
2. It is important that a man makes you laugh.
3. It is important to find a man you can count on and doesn't lie to you.
4. It is important that a man loves you and spoils you.
5. It is important that these four men don't know each other!

***********************
One saggy boob said to the other saggy boob: "If we don't get some support soon, people will think we're nuts."

***********************
Below is a wonderful poem Audrey Hepburn wrote when asked to share her "beauty tips." It was read at her funeral years later.
For attractive lips, speak words of kindness. For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people. For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry. For beautiful hair, let a child run his/her fingers through it once a day. For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone. People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone. Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you will find one at the end of each of your arms. As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands; one for helping yourself, and the other for helping others.

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Keep the muse happy. He is the magic behind the artist.

2009-10-26T10:19:00.000-04:00

Posted by Marianne LaCroix

I don't know about anyone else, but my muse is male. He sometimes changes in appearance, but he is essentially the same man--sexy, loving, dangerous, adventurous, naughty, creative, commanding, tender...and drool worthy on many levels.

He sits at my side and whispers into my ear more tortures to throw at my heroine. He teases me with his plots of seduction and makes me laugh with his jokes. I am totally in love with my muse. He is my dream man, my hero, my ultimate lover.

Trouble with a male muse is keeping him happy. Sounds silly, but it is true, especially for the erotic fiction writer who must think of new ways to tease and thrill the reading audience. In other words, creating a hero to seduce the heroine into red hot passionate situations and tempt her into giving up her heart for love.

So, how do you keep the muse happy? Listen to him. Pay attention to when he speaks. Surrender to his seductions and write them down. If you listen, you will discover inspiration.

A muse's main job is to inspire the artist....be it a painter, sculptor or writer. Mine happens to be male because sexy men inspire me. Come on, you see a man that revs your engines, and tell me you don't immediately wonder what would happen if you went up and planted a kiss right on him. Don't lie. You can lie to me, but never lie to the muse. Admit your attraction and excitement, and go with it.

Feed the muse by answering his one desire...to inspire. Ignore him, and you risk him leaving you. This is a terrible thing for the artist. Nothing is more painful than the want to write but having no inspiration to actually sit down and start typing. Beware, his vacation can take anywhere from days to years.

The muse can hit you at any time. Mine decided to come back several months ago after a long vacation. He is different in appearance, but I know him. He makes me take out my notebook and jot down ideas in a storm. He kisses my neck as I write, breathing his words into my ear. He is seduction. He is temptation. He is my wish.

Then once the book is done, he pleas to remain and be written in a new story.

Keep him happy. Listen to him. And get writing.

But most importantly, show your muse you love him with pages written from the heart. Nothing makes a muse happier than seeing the fruits of his magical inspiration.

--------------------
Marianne LaCroix
Website | Blog

Trick 'r Treat

2009-10-23T07:00:00.003-04:00

This movie will put you in the mood for Halloween as it celebrates all the magic and mayhem of the holiday. It was supposed to have been released last year at theaters, but the studio got cold feet, didn't know how it would compete when people's taste in horror films runs toward Saw movies. So this season it's released direct to DVD. Check your video store or just pick it up--it's worth it. I really enjoyed how the individual stories overlapped and interconnected and everything was wrapped up neatly.

Here's the blurb at Amazon and a link:
The doorbell rings, the cry goes out: Trick 'R Treat! But, wait. What's actually going on during this ghostly All Hallows Eve? Something eerie and unexpected. Something splattered and spooky. Something that brings ghouls, vampires and werewolves into the night. Answer the door – a shocking surprise awaits. From producer Bryan Singer (director of X-Men and Superman Returns) and writer-director Michael Dougherty (co-scripter of X2 and Superman Returns) comes a multitale bag of wicked yarns, four cleverly interlocked stories built on Shocktober admonitions like always check the candy and don’t extinguish the jack-o-lantern before midnight. So answer the door now: Experience horror made for today's fright fan.

An Erotic Convention?

2009-10-19T12:52:00.017-04:00

Posted by Nina Pierce

I'm here! I'm here! *slides in breathless* I thought I had already written something for today and then when I stop over ... argh! There's nothing here. My bad!

But I'm here now and I gotta tell you, I'm recovering from the BEST ever conference I have attended. Now mind you, I've never been to the Romantic Times convention in the spring (and hope to get there some day) but this gathering of Ellora's Cave authors, aspiring authors and readers that took place Oct 9-11 was absolutely amazing!

I finally met some of my online friends that I've known for awhile and actually chat with some authors I've admired for a long time. Cool beans.

I attended workshops about promo materials, BDSM, male/male, and taboo words in erotica. Many of them were reader driven which made it fascinating. Kaenar Langford shared details of an amazing research trip she took to a male spa. Ummm ... let's just say I was doing some thigh clenching as she described the rooms and smells and ... experiences. (Here are authors Tawny Taylor, Joey Hill and Diana Hunter during the BDSM workshop)

Those of us who arrived early were treated to the first introduction of the Cavemen. These wonderful men let us stalk, um, I mean flirt with them all weekend. Yeah, that's me surrounded by all that man flesh. And these guys are as nice as they are beautiful.

Friday morning I went to the EC office and got to see them printing our books. A couple of the authors with me got to see their print books for the first time. That was fun. That night we attended a "Psychedelic Soiree". Everyone was dressed in flash back sixties and the DJ did a nice job entertaining us. I'm probably showing my age when I say I was singing along with all the music. A dance by the cavemen and a dance contest highlighted the evening.

Saturday gave us time to mingle with readers during author mania. It was so much fun! I attended more workshops in the afternoon and Saturday night was EC's time to let it's authors shine. The newbies (like me) were honored with a "Rising Star" certificate and trophy and seasoned authors were honored with trophies for fun categories like "heroes who love other heroes", "most innovative dinner scene" and "I want that sex toy catalog" to name just a few. They were fun, fun, fun! And of course the cavemen entertained us with another dance. Oh, mama!

Sunday morning had more reader panels and I went to one where we talked about words that are taboo in erotica. It was an absolute hoot talking about male and female body parts and some other in depth sex terms (if you get my meaning). I'm not sure I laughed any harder during the weekend. Gosh, I do love erotic romance readers.

Sunday afternoon we had a booksigning. This was only the second time I've been part of something like this. There were so many people. It was wonderful. EC gave away all kinds of gift baskets, a netbook and the one thing everyone held their breath for ... a Sony ereader. Okay, we were holding our breaths because Rodney (who's on my "Divine Deception" cover) did a little strip tease as he read off each number. Yeah, that so was not hard on the eyes!

We ended the weekend with a pizza party and Bingo. The whole whirl wind trip was amazing. They've already scheduled Romanticon for next year. I can NOT wait to go! Probably won't drive though (the hubster and I traveled 2350 miles and 10 days to go). I'm thinking the plane will take alot less time and energy.

Dark is Sexy!

2009-10-12T06:11:00.002-04:00

Dark is Sexy!
By
N. J. Walters

It’s human nature to be at once frightened by and drawn to the dark. We fear that which we cannot see, yet we long to discover the secrets hidden in the gloomy depths of midnight. The dark fascinates even as it repels. Creatures of the night, of myth and human imagination step forward to pull us into their web until we no longer know fact from fiction.

Writers have long known of this mysterious allure and have drawn on it as inspiration for tales that pull at the depths of our minds and emotions. Ironically, one of the creatures that has inspired the most fear is also the one that seems to exert the biggest pull on us, compelling us forward even when we want to turn and run for our very life—the vampire.

Created from death, the vampire has been featured in folk tales and horror novels for several hundred years. In recent years, the vampire has become an unlikely hero for the romance novel. I mean, face it, the first rule of vampires is that you have to be dead to be one. Plus, you have to have human blood to survive. How then did this creature become fodder for romance novels?

The vampire is a sensual creature, one of supernatural strength and abilities, who lives by his own rules. The vampire is the king of the night. Powerful beyond comprehension, he is immortal, watching the world change century after century while he remains the same. Any vampire worthy of the name who hopes to survive is going to build an empire of some kind. After all, what are you going to do with all that time except build more wealth and power?

And that’s especially necessary in this day and age. Ironically, it’s both harder and easier for a vampire to hide in the computer age. Vampires need a safe place to hide during the day when they’re most vulnerable. Government taxes need to be paid on land and property. That means a source of money is necessary. But in the day of the Goth culture, a vampire can easily blend in a large city, finding eager donors to feed him blood. After all, the vampire can mesmerize their chosen donor, wiping all from their memory when they are done.

That, of course, brings me to the subject of blood. The drinking of blood has been used in many cultures symbolically and as a religious ritual. It is also taboo in many others. We cannot fathom actually doing it. Yet the vampire must in order to survive. Perhaps he is conflicted by this, perhaps not. Yet there is no denying the deeply personal connection between vampire and victim. In the case of a romance novel, it steps into the sensual and sexual.

In modern romance novels there seems to exist a sense of morality among vampires, imposed on them by their writers. An evil vampire is like the ones of old, killing people without regard for human life. The vampire hero has scruples and may even try to warn away the female heroine for her own safety. There are books that feature vampire cultures existing right alongside us in our cities and suburbs. There seems to be an endless fascination for writers and readers when it comes to this prince of the undead. I freely admit that I fall into both categories. I love reading vampire romances and I love writing them.

My Dalakis Passion vampire series began back in 2005 with Harker’s Journey. This book began when I started thinking about Bram Stoker’s classic novel, Dracula. I started thinking about what would happen if a modern day descendant of Jonathan Harker followed in his footsteps. I sent financial consultant, Johanna Harker, traveling to Transylvania at the behest of Cristofor Dalakis, her firm’s largest customer. Unbeknownst to her, he is a vampire, one who has haunted her dreams her entire adult life.

The series continued with Lucian’s Delight, Stefan’s Salvation and Eternal Brothers and has culminated with the final installment in the series—Endless Chase.

BLURB: Endless Chase

Vengeance is at hand for Katya Markova and nothing will make her stray from her chosen path—nothing, that is, but Chase Deveraux. She’s spent the past year of her life searching for the person responsible for the bloody murders of her parents. Her quest has taken her around the world and into the dark realm of blood cults and killers, finally bringing her to Transylvania and the Dalakis family.

From the moment Katya first sets eyes on Chase, the emotional and sexual connection between them explodes. She wants him to the point of madness, risking everything she’s worked for to spend stolen moments locked in his heated embrace.

But Katya is enmeshed in a world of lies and deceptions, which now includes Chase and his family. Love, vengeance and honor are tested, and sides must be taken as the entire Dalakis family is now in jeopardy.

Check out this book and the rest of the Dalakis Passion vampire books at Ellora’s Cave Publishing. And, if you’re like me, you’ll be curled up on the cold nights this fall and winter reading more tales of vampire love. Sleep tight!

N.J. has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

http://www.njwalters.com
http://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/awakeningdesires/ (newsletter group)

Star Flyer at Samhain

2009-10-09T06:49:00.002-04:00

Star Flyer is now at Samhain.

Two men on trajectory for an explosive collision…

Still mourning the loss of his lover to invading forces, Marr Hingo operates his farm under a dictatorship while keeping his mind—and feet—planted firmly on the ground. Spring arrives right on schedule, bringing with it something completely unexpected—an unconscious pilot from a downed star jet. Unable to bring himself to give up the handsome aviator to searching troops, Marr hides him in the barn’s cellar.

The last thing Davan Siedel remembers before ejecting is getting in a couple of good blasts against a Galactic Forces F150. He wakes to find his vague memory of being carried by an angel wasn’t far off the mark. A tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed farmer has brought him to safety and is tending his injured leg.

The attraction between solid, earthy Marr and clever, quicksilver Davan catches them off guard—and their sexual union is as sweet as it is powerful. Yet the longer Davan lingers, the tighter the enemy’s web grows, threatening their love, their freedom…and their lives. Read more....

“No I don’t need anything, but I wouldn’t mind your company,” he finally admitted. “Tell me more about Theon or about farming. Tell me anything.”

Marr stopped packing the box and settled beside Davan’s pallet, one long leg stretched before him, the other bent with his folded arms resting on it. “So the meds aren’t kicking in, you want me to dull your pain with boredom?”

Davan grinned. “I thought you said farm life was rewarding.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s interesting. I can tell you my daily routine in one sentence. I get up, take care of the animals, eat, work in the fields, repair things, maybe do a little housework, eat dinner and I’m in bed about an hour after sundown. Theon’s an agricultural planet, so everyone’s story is pretty much like mine. Why don’t you tell me something about your life, instead?”

“Oh, you know, pick pretty much any Gindre adventure and I’ve done it,” Davan teased. “Fighting the henchmen, outwitting the evil mastermind, saving the pretty boy, it’s all in a day’s work for me. But seriously, everyone’s life is a routine, isn’t it? Mine is flying every day, as much as possible. Whether it’s for business or pleasure or fighting, I spend most of my life in the air.”
Marr grimaced.

“What? You don’t like flying?”

“I never have and never expect to. I don’t want my feet off the solid ground. The mere idea makes me queasy.”

“Didn’t your mother make you try a food even if you didn’t think you’d like it? Someday I’ll take you up there and shake up your world. You won’t ever want to come down again,” Davan promised.

His words resonated in the air, suddenly sounding suggestive. Silence fell. Did he dare reach out and touch Marr’s cheek, so close, only a few feet away where he sat beside the bed? What would the farmer do if Davan touched him? They’d only just met and under extreme circumstances, it was too soon, and yet Davan found himself doing exactly what he wanted to. His hand moved, almost of its own volition, and bridged the space between them.

Marr’s face was warm beneath his palm. His jaw was rough with stubble, his skin weathered. The flex of muscle when he swallowed sent a pang of lust through Davan that crowded out the pain in his leg and awoke a different kind of ache in his groin.

Davan traced his thumb over the man’s lower lip, tempting it to open, and it obeyed his command. Marr exhaled. His eyes glittered and drifted partway closed. Without words, he showed that he wanted Davan, too.

“I should go keep watch. The soldiers might come back.” His nervousness was as obvious as his desire. He probably hadn’t been with a man since his lover Sasch left. This was a big deal for him.
“Just a kiss. Or maybe two,” Davan whispered, then added, “please.” Without waiting for an answer, he leaned in, his leg screaming at the sudden shift, and covered Marr’s mouth with his. The soft gulp the farmer made just before he kissed him sent another bolt of fire burning through his body.

Marr’s lips yielded to the pressure of Davan’s mouth. It didn’t take much to prompt him into what he already wanted to do. He moved closer, snaking his hand around the back of Davan’s neck and holding him steady. His tongue slid across Davan’s lips.

Davan was exhilarated by the eager response and groaned as he stroked Marr’s tongue with his own. Mouth to mouth they fused, inhaling each other’s breath, becoming one. Davan gripped the other man’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of muscle beneath his shirt and wishing he was touching bare skin.

Marr pulled away with a gasp. “Wait a minute. Wait!”

No, Davan wanted to protest and drag him over for another kiss.

But Marr wasn’t leaving, he wasn’t ending it. Instead, he moved from the dirt floor onto the mattress beside Davan, careful not to jar his leg as he slid beneath the blanket. The heat of that big body pressed against his supplied all the warmth Davan needed. He could’ve thrown the covers aside.

Marr wrapped an arm around his back and kissed him again, an easy glide of his mouth that slowly became more aggressive. Like the antique gas-powered engines Davan had once seen in a museum, the kiss started with a low rumble and ramped up to a roar. Davan’s cock was solid and throbbing like a powerful engine, too. He wanted to press his erection against the bulge he knew would be in Marr’s pants, but his injured leg hampered his movements.

The big man’s hand splayed across his back then moved down to grip his hip. He kissed Davan’s neck, nudging up his chin so he could nuzzle his throat. The rasp of stubble contrasted with the soft, searching lips. Davan tilted his head back, a low groan vibrating in his throat. He wanted more. He wanted everything, and he cursed his awkward leg that held him back from moving freely.

Marr’s hand moved to his groin, gliding down his belly and beneath the waistband of his underwear. When those callused fingers touched his cock, Davan felt a jolt of electricity go through him. Marr scratched lightly down its length then encircled his shaft in his fist. Davan thought he’d explode. He usually had better control, but the surprise of this encounter, the day’s trauma and residual adrenaline rush made him highly sensitized.

Marr’s kisses and touch triggered Davan’s release like a magnetic surge. A few tugs of that hard hand and he gasped and thrust his hips. The painful throbbing in his leg only enhanced his pleasure. His orgasm burst through him with the speed of a mag-jet entering atmosphere, and he came, spurting over Marr’s fist.

He laughed as he opened his eyes and glanced down at Marr’s sleek, dark head still pressed to his shoulder. “Sorry. I guess I needed that.”

Marr lifted his face. His eyes were lust-glazed and dilated. “Guess so.”

Davan cupped the side of his face before sliding his hand around the back of that thick, strong neck. Marr reminded him of a big oak tree, his corded muscles like a gnarled trunk and his feet rooted in the land. He pressed his other hand against his chest and started to slide it down toward his groin.

Marr stopped him with a touch on his wrist. “You don’t need to do that. You should rest.”
Davan was torn. He wanted to keep going, to feel the weight and girth of Marr’s cock in his hand, but it was true that he was exhausted. The medication combined with the release of his orgasm left behind a languorous torpor. He wanted to drift off to sleep, not alone, but pressed against Marr’s warm body.

“Besides, I should get up and check on things,” Marr continued.

“Stay just a little longer.” Davan was ashamed at his neediness and the fear he felt at the idea of being left alone in the dark.

Marr didn’t reply, but shifted closer, stretching out beside Davan and curving his arm around him.
Silence fell again, magnified by the close atmosphere of the underground chamber and the darkness held at bay only by the glow-light. It was peaceful in the dark now that he lay in Marr’s arms. Through the open trapdoor the scent and occasional bleats of the lamidas drifted down. Marr’s breath blew warm and moist against the side of Davan’s neck. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, the motion lulling Davan until he was barely awake.

“So, you started flying when you lived on Antia?” The low rumble of the farmer’s voice jerked him back to consciousness.

“Yeah. I’d dropped out of school, too bored to sit still that long every day. I was restless, lost one job after another and wasted a lot of time getting high, but I still couldn’t find the kick I was looking for. Then I met this guy who worked at the airfield and he took me up in one of the jets.” Davan omitted the part about paying the guy with a blow job. Marr didn’t need to know all the particulars about how he used to get by back in the slums of Antia.

“I loved the speed and the magic of soaring above the ground and then out of the atmosphere. I knew from then on what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.”

“It was what you’d been waiting for.”

Davan nodded. “I got a job at the field just to be near the action, and eventually worked my way into flight training and a pilot’s license.” Again, the details of how he’d slept his way into flight school were something he kept to himself.

“I left Antia and never looked back. Couldn’t get enough of flying.”

“Mm.” Marr’s sexy murmur of agreement aroused a flutter in Davan’s stomach. “I’m really trying to understand what it is about it you like so much, but I’m having a hard time. I guess I understand the attraction of speed. I did my share of racing when I was younger, but on land. It’s the soaring part I don’t get. Soaring can lead to crashing.”

“Freedom. That’s all I can say. Rising above all the crap and being free.”

There was another long silence. Davan listened to his companion’s breathing and inhaled the scent of his sweat. He shifted even closer to the heat and comfort of Marr’s body.

“Can I get you anything else?” Marr asked. “More food? Fresh water?”

“No. I’m good,” Davan replied.

And he was, crashed jet, broken leg, dangerous enemies and all. He was better than he’d been for a long time. What was it about this grounded man that made him feel so happy and safe? This was what he’d always imagined coming home would feel like.

Honest, this is what I write.

2009-10-04T05:00:00.000-04:00

So, you’ve worked up the courage to tell people you’re a writer, that you have books published and that you *gasp * even make some money from battering away at your keyboard. They look you up and down – and before they tell you about the book they’ve always wanted to write, lol – they guess your genre.

Now I sort of have a little bit of a goth thing going on. Black clothes, leather boots, long coat, ghostly pale. (The latter I can’t help. I live in North West England. It rains professionally here.) I’ve been judged and what do they suspect I write?

Horror? No, though I have written that.

Paranormal vampires with strange and bizarre happenings? Nope, though I write that too.

At a stretch, the odd kink? No. And I’ve definitely written that!

No, every person I’ve ever told I write jumps to the conclusion that I write children’s books. Why? Something about me cries out children’s writer and I wish I could work out what it was. And it’s not the 8-12 fiction either, which I wouldn’t find so odd, it’s pre-school picture books. Though, thinking about it, I’d be proud to have written Walter the Farting Dog…

I think they assume I write picture books because I’m a woman with young children, therefore my focus must be on entertaining them…and not myself—and other women—with science fiction and paranormal naughtiness.

It happened again this week and stuck in my head, which is why I’m blogging about it…and thank you to the Erotic Muses for letting me share my ramblings J

So…what do others assume you write?

Kim Knox

...darkness and romance...

Loving Sophia blurb

2009-09-30T06:00:00.002-04:00

Here's the blurb for Loving Sophia. Hopefully edits will start soon.

What happens when you play with fire? You get burned.
Dating Ethan James was risky, but it was a risk Sophia was willing to take. The heat and passion blazed between them hotter than the sun. Sophia was sure she had found the one. So sure she told him she loved him. Only to watch him turn and walk away.

Love ’em and Leave ’em
It was just for fun. A few dates, a few laughs. The way Ethan saw it, he and Sophia were friends with benefits. At least they were headed for the benefits part, until Sophia had to go and ruin everything by falling in love. So he did what any other sane bachelor would do, he cut his losses and left.

You don’t know what you got until it’s gone.
It didn’t take Ethan long to realize he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. When he walked away from Sophia, he left his heart behind. Now he needs regain her trust and show her that loving Sophia was the best thing that ever happened to him.

On writing series...

2009-09-28T07:00:00.016-04:00

Have you ever read a book so good you never want it to end? Or if you're a writer, written one where your characters demanded more page time?

My Eternity series at Ellora's Cave started out as just one book, The Cost of Eternity. Vamps, gay ones to boot, a mystery, an attempted murder, lots of hot manlove--of course--and a happy ending. Well, a happy for now. Some people were a little upset because of the ending. My heros were together but there was an impediment to their long term happiness. By their very nature, my vamps can't stay together for long. Ingrained animosity would eventually drive them apart or to battle each other. But hey, that left a jumping off point for another book. Didn't start it that way. Just happened. Sometimes books take over and force the writer to its whim.

The Cost of Eternity
Blurb

For over two hundred years, the cost of eternity for Lorcan MacKenna has been unending loneliness. Territorial creatures of darkness, vampires can’t peacefully exist near each other. Human companions age and die, leaving him to face the long nights alone. After the death of his last lover, Lorcan vows to avoid the pain of loss. Until a down-and-out actor finds himself in danger and Lorcan can’t resist saving the blond young man.

Kevin St. James never expected to find himself offering sex for money especially not to men. A desperate need for quick cash, a dark alley, and things go terribly wrong. His dark rescuer brings out feelings hidden so deep, Kevin never realized they were there. Reveling in newfound sensations, Kevin welcomes his new lover.

But just as Lorcan has a secret so too does Kevin.

Since I left my vamp heros languishing in a world where their relationship was doomed, I needed a cure of some kind. So enter book two, The Rememdiu! The title is the bastardization of a Latin word meaning cure. The Rememdiu is an immortal creature with the ability to cure vampires, or cure the world of vampires.

The main character in The Rememdiu is Secret Service Agent Roger Malloy. He was the agent charged to protect Kevin in The Cost of Eternity. Having failed that mission, he's now on admin leave waiting a review of his actions. Convinced Lorcan MacKenna knows the truth of what happened, Roger wants to find him.

The Rememdiu
Blurb
Roger Malloy devoted his life to the Secret Service until one assignment gone wrong destroyed his career. Little did he know how the chain of events started by his contact with Lorcan MacKenna would end. Now on the wildest ride of his life, Roger finds himself drawn to a strange trio of people claiming to be immortal vampire hunters.

Adria spent the last four hundred years looking for the Rememdiu, the one person capable of destroying the night demons, only to find a very uncooperative Roger Malloy. Although she knows he has the genetic makeup to be the cure to the scourge of vampires, convincing him is harder than she expected. Her men are more than willing to help her persuade him in any way necessary. Unknown to her is Roger’s true nature and the real meaning of the cure.

To some degree, Watchers are the children of vampires. They are created when a mortal female is turned by a vampire in the late stages of pregnancy. The invasion of her maker's blood forces the fetus to spontaneously abort. If the child is close enough to full term, it can survive. However, his immortality and special powers won't bloom until he's past puberty and had a sexual relationship with another Watcher. As blood is to the vampire's creation, sexual fluids are to Watchers.

Deciding who was the second point of view character for The Rememdiu was difficult. Adria won because she was the driving force behind the Watchers. However, the relationship between Roger, Cardin and Estefan is no less important and is very sexy. One reviewer called the relationship a menage a quatre. Some readers believed the true romantic relationship was between Roger and Cardin. Estefan still longed for another.

Adria believed the Rememdiu would be an avenger, killing all vampires. The few vampires aware of the legends believed the cure was just that, a cure for vampirism. To some degree, they both were right. While Adria believed Roger was the cure, it was another. And Lorcan and Kevin's future and fate were set to rights.

In The Rememdiu, some of Roger's backstory is brought to light. His mother, the pregnant female, and her vampire lover are mentioned several times. I had such a clear picture of the relationship and the characters that I had no choice but to write their story!

Longing For Eternity
Blurb

Serena Whitmore’s love for Zaki surpassed death but her transformation into a vampire has kept her separate from him for thirty-four years. Her heart and body crave him but the natural enmity between vampires keeps their visits brief. Now, fate twists its fickle fingers into her life and teases her with a solution. And a piece of her heart she’d thought lost forever.

Zaki Bashandi spent two millennia living by the rules of vampiric nature—alone. Sex was a means to blood, not love, not desire, until Serena entered his life and enslaved what was left of his soul. Now, his longing for eternity with the one woman who captured his heart may become a reality. If they both survive long enough for the cure…

More of the legend of vampires, Watchers and the Rememdiu are revealed in this short story. Also, the end leads directly into the new mission of Roger and his intrepid band of Watchers. Adria has to admit all vampires are not evil. Her life's work to destroy all creatures of the night is over. But a new mission presents itself.

Fighting For Eternity
Blurb

Searching for a murderous rogue vampire, Watcher Estefan Garza’s life is turned upside down by tragic loss and a surprise from his past. His bone chilling loss is warmed by fires of passion reignited by vampire Karl Brandt.

On a quest to destroy a former friend, Karl is startled by Estefan and his mysterious companions. Karl can’t understand why Estefan hasn’t aged in seventy years. Unwilling to let him leave until Karl discovers the truth, he offers Estefan and his friends refuge and assistance for their common mission.

As a bloody battle for Memphis ensues, Karl and Estefan bond between danger and destruction until all that remains separating them is a fight for eternity.

Book four, Fighting For Eternity, brings Estefan to the front with his own story. Karl was mentioned in book two, The Rememdiu, as the vampire who convinced Estefan--in spite of Adria's belief--that not all were evil. Reunited, they fight for their happy ending.

And then there's book five. Most of the characters from the previous books will make a reappearance as they come together to save one of their own. Not yet written and in the early stages of planning, the as yet untitled book five will be the last in the series.

I don't want to run an idea into the ground and with an unplanned series, I think it's harder to make it work long term. However, the universe and the legend will always be there. And who knows, maybe an idea will jump up and down and demand I write another story about vamps and Watchers and their quest for love and eternity!

I hope you've enjoyed this sneak peek into my Eternity series. And maybe it's sparked your interest in reading some of it! If so, books one through four are available at Ellora's Cave (http://www.jasminejade.com/s-186-eternity.aspx). For more about me and my books, stop by my website: http://www.shaylakersten.com/.

Comment below to be entered in a drawing for your choice of ebook from my published works!

Special thanks to the lovely ladies of the Erotic Muses blog for allowing me to ramble on today!

Have a brilliant Monday!

Irrational Arousal

2009-09-17T07:14:00.005-04:00

The cover is up at the Coming Soon spot at Ellora's Cave! The book will be for sale Sept 25. I'm very fond of this story because I frequently walk past the corner where I based it. And every time I get near the corner I think of new and interesting variations on the theme. I hope it sells well because I'm still getting more Edgar stories.

IRRATIONAL AROUSAL

That guy you glanced at…the one you thought was so gorgeous. What do you do when you’re suddenly seeing what he’s seeing, feeling what he’s feeling, and it’s all hot, sweaty and very R-rated?

Gia’s life takes a turn for the bizarre when she develops a connection with construction worker Will, and the connection is all sexual. Not only can she see and sense his fantasies, he can visit hers too. And for two strangers, they begin to have some pretty intimate daydreams about each other.

Anger, and concern about the sudden onset of shared insanity, are thrust to the wayside when Gia and Will finally meet and find that even outside the fantasies, they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Some kind of weird lust is driving them—to mutually orgasmic results. While Gia’s loving it, Will just wants a normal life, but soon realizes they might never turn down the heat and return to normal again. And craziness aside, does he really want the “cure” if it means losing Gia?

Erotic Foods

2009-09-16T06:16:00.003-04:00

I was surfing the net, just looking around, as I have a tendency to do. I came across avery entertaining site, Cakes and Cunnilingus. I just had to check it out. I thought I'd share some of the better photos.

WANNA BITE?

Researching While Traveling

2009-09-14T06:00:00.011-04:00

By the end of 2009, my cutie and I will have traveled over 25,000 miles. Some of it for pleasure and others more work related, but always with an element of excitement for the journey and what we may discover.

Trains, planes, and various automobiles were all a part of these trips, but no boats because they make me sick. When they come up with something that I can take or that won’t cause me to feel even worse than the waves do, then I’ll be on a ship in a heartbeat. Anyway, there were places I’d been to before, and a few I hadn’t, but all of them were spectacular in their own way.

While this year hasn’t been that much different from others, I imagine you’re wondering exactly what do I mean when I say: Researching While Traveling. Unfortunately, there are no straight forward answers to this statement, just a plethora of choices of how to use and where to take the experience. Writers are all different and approach research however it suits them. For me there are three general ways I use research found on a trip, be it notes, pictures, books, etc. They are influence, direct, and specific.

Inspiration
Sometimes I’ve experienced or seen something that spoke to me so strongly, there’s no way I could ignore its call. Take, for example, “An Invitation to the World: New Zealand”. While in England, I once went to an international rugby match, and I was totally motivated by what I discovered. The sport is interesting, the players themselves even more so, only neither they nor the location were what ultimately called out to me. That came from the first time I saw the All Blacks [New Zealand's national team] do the Maori war dance, The Haka, a ritual they follow before every game. [You can see an Adidas ad here on YouTube that shows it.] The power and presence of the players on the team stuck with me and demanded an outlet of some sort. Later, when I was thinking about which countries I’d use for the An Invitation to the World erotic romance series, The Haka and the players who did it immediately came to mind.

Direct
If I go to a place with a story in mind, then the research that takes place is in order to find details to help support particular points. That is what happened with “The Gilded Cage”, part of the A Passion for Fashion series, which takes place in fashion capitals around the world. The erotic romance takes place in both London and York in England. I knew that and a few other things, like she was a jewelry designer and he a property developer, so I went in search of what I needed to deepen their characters and story even further. Yes, I took black cab rides through the city and past famous landmarks, visited known venues like the V&A, and, of course, the weather we experienced showed up as well. However, to take the reader deeper into the cities, I took them along for two meals that I personally enjoyed in each. At the start of their relationship, the couple go to Chinatown in London for crispy duck and when they solidify their love, they enjoy high tea at Bettys, which includes scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam, up in York.

Specific
Often the story is already plotted out and I need to gather details from a visit to support and flesh out particular areas. “Highland Heat” takes place in both London and The Highlands, and I sought out specific information and learned all I could about them. In London, I made visits to the Royal Albert Hall, walked all around the city, including Hyde Park, Old Bond Street, and the residential areas near Marble Arch. I went to one of the libraries and asked a few people about the warrants that are placed on shops by members of the royal family and, of course, restaurants. The Highlands was a little harder to handle. I knew from a couple of different visits what area I wanted to place both the opening scene and where he eventually settled, but there were no large houses there. What I did was find one in another location and did the unthinkable by putting it where I needed it.

There you go, a brief touch on the types of research I do while traveling. In the end, the final goal for all the background information I gather, be it on-site or through a book, is to help put the reader right there beside the lovers. I want them to think they could be sitting at the next table, at the same party, or living next door. That happens through writing, but it is the meat behind the words that makes it all the sweeter. Yes, making the trips and doing all these things can be fun and be handled in different ways, but it's definitely still work. While living out of a suitcase may not suit everyone, as long as I have my laptop and camera, I don't let that get to me.

Feel free to ask any questions you'd like about doing research, while traveling or not. There are interesting issues that come up, sometimes a language barrier, and often how to get around, but you’d be surprised how helpful people can be when you tell them what you’re doing.

By the way, yes, there are a couple of stories coming out from trips I took this year. One is "My Angel", part of the Good, Bad, and Kinky duet, which resulted from a trip to Knaresborough, North Yorkshire, England and a short called "And She Scores!" from a trip to Laguna Beach, California. Wow, how different could those two places be, and yet still be the perfect settings for particular erotic romances.

Tilly Greene
WARNING! Red hot romances ahead!
www.tillygreene.com
Hot Thoughts Blog: http://tillygreene.blogspot.com

Hooking for Irrational Arousal

2009-09-10T10:23:00.005-04:00

I'm writing a short description of a book. Here's the gist of the story: two people who don't know each other are intimately connected--as in every time one of them feels tingling in his/her nether bits, the other one feels it too. They're both spooked by these very strange "hallucinations" even as they're heavily turned on . . . (this is a Summer Devon book)

So how do I show and not tell this situation in a couple of hundred words?

I wish I could post my version and then the editor's version and see which one works better. They're very different. At the moment, I'm not sure either works and this damn well better be good. It's become clear to me that the quicky description of a book makes a huge difference. I have to grab my potential reader immediately! Now! AT ONCE!

oy!

The Waiting Game

2009-09-09T00:36:00.004-04:00

I signed my contract for Loving Sophia today. Woo Hoo! So now the hard part starts. Yes. The hard part.

Let's start with writing the blurb. I hate writing the blurb. Is it too wordy? Did I make it appealing? How can I condense my blood, sweat, and tears into a paragraph or two?

Then I have to wait as an editor is assigned to me and he/she reads my baby. Reading it to critic it. Yes, I know that's the editor's job, and I like knowing what I need to improve or correct. It's the waiting, the wondering, that kills me.

After the dreaded edits, guess what? I get to wait some more. When is the release date? Two months, three, five? Ever notice how time slows to a standstill when you have a new story to be released?

Finally, the reviews. I bite my nails waiting for those first few to come rolling in. What's the verdict? Do they like it? Are they indifferent to it? What if nobody wants to review it?\

Sigh. Maybe it's best if I just shut up and start writing.

Whew! It's Release Day

2009-09-07T21:08:00.004-04:00

Sacred Secrets released today at Lyrical Press! Want to know more about it? Here goes...

Celia sold herself in a bargain for rough play and a great story--not murder!

Celia Brentwood, fetish reporter for San Francisco’s Inappropriate Voices, agrees to auction herself off as a BDSM slave for thirty days. She plans to write a first-person exposé, but after she’s purchased by Garrett Lawrence, the most eligible gay bachelor in town, her story becomes an insider peek at the man once accused of killing his lover.

Garrett still mourns the loss of his beloved, but the past is hard to forget when it’s stalking him. The real killer is obsessed with Garrett...until Celia’s deception is discovered and the killer decides she’s the perfect route to his prey.

Want to read an excerpt?
Click here.

A BONDAGE MISTRESS, AN ADDICT COP AND A COPYCAT KILLER WALK INTO A BAR...

2009-09-06T00:14:00.004-04:00

Granted, there’s no bar scene in my futuristic Tokyo erotic thriller. But the rest is true!

Before I go any further, I’d like to thank the Erotic Muses for welcoming me to their blog. And now on with the day’s program.

Killing Silk is about a badass cop with an addiction to adrenaline patches, Keveri Newman, hitting rock bottom on the job and his personal life. It’s about Mistress Azalea trying to find an apprentice to pass down the venerable art of Shibari and failing to find anyone worthy. Finally, Killing Silk is about trust.

Kev might be a long-time addict and a rogue cop with a bad attitude, but there’s one rule nobody can break: messing with his district. There’s a serial killer prowling his Downtown Tokyo, and Kev won’t rest until he finds him. Dead or alive, he doesn’t care much.

Find below for your viewing pleasure a short (and exclusive, yo!) passage of Killing Silk.

***

An excerpt from Killing Silk

Grabbing the man by the collar of his fancy white business suit, Kev hoisted him so he could have some face-time with the latest Triad member upstart who thought he could invade his turf, make trouble for his merchants, harass his prostitutes and not have to deal with Detective Keveri Newman in return.

“Do you know why Kabuki-cho runs smoothly? It’s because it’s my district. My district means my rules. And my rules means when I tell you to drop the gun, you fucking drop the gun like it’s burning your hand. Why is that so hard to get? Didn’t your Triad boss tell you that before you moved your lame trafficking biz up here? By the way, an idiot could spot your fakes.”

“Trafficking—? Argh! What trafficking? I don’t—”

Kev gave the grimacing guy a good shake. “Think about what you’re going to say. Think really hard. ‘Do I want to piss off the really big guy with a gun and a badge, or do I want to be quiet and wait for the ambulance to get here?’ Hmmm? Choices, choices.”

Just in case the guy decided to bleed to death before Kev had his answers, he sheathed his gun, pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, and slid a thumb over the holotransmitter. The tiny red screen blinked when the channel opened.

“Emergency channel. Please transmit,” purred the genderless, computerized voice.

“Detective Newman. Kabuki-cho District. One wounded from gunshot to both legs.”

“Emergency accepted. Standby for recovery team. Estimated time of arrival is seven minutes, fourteen seconds. Thank you for using Tokyo’s first and foremost telecommunication—”

Kev killed the link before the advertisement ran its course. Goddamn spam was everywhere. The guy squirmed on the ground, punching the air a couple of times. Maybe it made him feel better.

“You shot m-me in one leg, not both, asshole,” he muttered.

Kev smiled. “Not yet.”

***

For details about this book and any of the almost thirty titles I’ve published so far, visit me.

Incidentally, if you enjoyed the cover, visit the cover artist’s portfolio.

And lastly, commenter Number Seven (just because I like that number), will receive a free copy of Killing Silk.

Commence chatting.

A Hearing Heart

2009-09-04T06:00:00.000-04:00

This book means so much to me. I hope readers, especially those who enjoyed BONE DEEP, will fall in love with A HEARING HEART. It will be available on Monday evening or Tuesday morning from Liquid Silver Books.

The heart conveys messages beyond what ears can hear.
After the death of her fiancé, Catherine Johnson, a New York schoolteacher in 1902, travels to Nebraska to teach in a one-room school and escape her sad memories. One afternoon, violence erupts in the sleepy town. Catherine saves deaf stable hand, Jim Kinney from torture by drunken thugs.

As she takes charge of his education, teaching him to read and sign, attraction grows between them. The warmth and humor in this silent man transcends the need for speech and his eyes tell her all she needs to know about his feelings for her. But the obstacles of class difference and the stigma of his handicap are almost insurmountable barriers to their growing attachment.

Will Catherine flaunt society’s rules and allow herself to love again? Can Jim make his way out of poverty as a deaf man in a hearing world? And together will they beat the corrupt robber baron who has a stranglehold on the town? Romance, love and sensuality abound in this jam-packed, old-fashioned tale with plenty of heart and some steaming hot sex.

Excerpt:
King was restive, sensing Jim’s tension as he stroked the currycomb over the horse’s sweaty side. The animal whickered and shifted away from the rough brushing, rolling an eye as he looked back at his groomer.

Jim moved in front of him, patting King’s nose and staring into his eyes, letting him know everything was all right. Nothing’s wrong. Good boy. He mentally soothed the horse, then went to fetch him a measure of oats.

Tossing the currycomb into the tack box, he stood for a moment, staring out the stable doors, trying to get his temper back under control. He was a fool to have imagined something blossoming between Miss Johnson and him. Seeing her in Van Hausen’s buggy reminded him that a beautiful woman like her could choose a suitor from among all the eligible bachelors in town. But a stab of pure rage had twisted his gut as he watched Van Hausen help her from the seat, her hand clasped in his.

Jim’s jaw tightened now as he envisioned plowing his fist into the man’s prissy face. His hands clenched from imagining the satisfying feel of flesh and bone under his knuckles and blood spraying from Van Hausen’s split lip. Then what? Catherine would smile, step over Van Hausen’s unconscious body, and walk into Jim’s arms, lifting her face for a kiss? Hah!

Striding to the grain bin to get King’s feed, he berated himself for his stupid fantasies. It was one thing to save money and plan for a better life, a future in which he might be part or even sole owner of a livery stable. It was another to add a wife and family into the picture. That could never happen for him. Especially not with a woman like Catherine Johnson, who was so far above him he’d need a ladder to face her eye to eye. He’d been stupid letting himself dream of it. Now he’d better corral his emotions with reason, keep them under control and locked deep inside him.

His fingers were stiff as they gripped the handle of the scoop and plunged it into the oats. Days of picking and husking corn had swollen the joints of his fingers, and his skin was cracked and sore.

A flicker of movement caught his attention and Jim looked toward the stable doors. Catherine stood silhouetted against the orange glow of the late afternoon sun. The light turned her golden hair into a halo around her head and shone through the thin fabric of her blouse so he could see her arms under the big, puffed sleeves. The sight of the actual shape of her body sent desire stabbing through him. Every bit of him yearned to touch her. For a second, Jim froze with the oat scoop halfway from the bin, then he dropped it and walked toward her.

She smiled a greeting and spoke, but he couldn’t read her lips with her face in shadow against the dazzling sun. He stopped in front of her, his head full of the things he wanted to say to her, but all he could do was return her smile.

Walking out of the light and into the dimness of the stable, she stared past him at the stalls. “That’s not the truth. I’m not just out for a walk. I wanted to see you to apologize.”

Jim waited for her to explain.

She met his gaze again. “I should have said hello to you. I’m sorry. Charles Van Hausen merely took me riding today, but it didn’t mean anything. I’m not interested ... that is, I don’t...” Her cheeks were bright pink. She rubbed her hand over one of them and said something else he couldn’t catch although his attention was riveted on her lips. She was speaking too fast and he couldn’t concentrate on her words because of his fascination with her mouth.

“Anyway, I really missed our lessons this week. How are you doing? Have you been able to study at all?”

He’d barely had time to sleep over the past week let alone open one of the textbooks. Shaking his head, he gestured at the horses, then mimed the act of corn husking.

When she saw the state of his hands, her eyes widened. She captured one of them in her own soft hands. Her mouth made a round “O” of exclamation and she frowned.

Jim held perfectly still while she stroked her fingers over his callused palms and the half-healed cuts on his swollen fingers. She seized his other hand, holding them both. His breath stopped.

“You need ointment on these. Do you have any?”

He hesitated, then nodded. The liniment he applied to the horses’ sore joints would have to serve because there was no way he was going to pass up the chance to have her treat his hands.

She followed him to the tack room at the back of the building and accepted the bottle he offered. “This?” She frowned as she read the label. “You don’t have any corn huskers’ lotion?”

He shook his head.

Uncapping the bottle, she poured a measure of the thick liquid into her cupped palm and rubbed her hands together before reaching for his. The warm ointment soaked into his rough flesh as she rubbed it into his hands. The alcohol burned on the open wounds, but he didn’t flinch, not wanting her to quit. The pads of her thumbs massaged his palm and each finger, sending lines of fire from his hand straight to his groin. His cock stiffened. His breathing was shallow and his body tense. He mustn’t let her know how her touch affected him or she’d stop what she was doing. Keeping his eyes trained on her moving hands, he willed his erection to stop filling the front of his trousers with a telltale bulge.

Catherine continued to work the slick ointment into every chapped bit of skin. She reached for his other hand and did the same. After a bit, her fingers slowed and stopped until she was just holding his hand.

He accepted that for a moment, happy simply to have his hands cradled in hers, but then he dared to curl his fingers around hers. He ran his index finger up and down her thumb, a light, teasing stroke over her soft skin.

She didn’t pull away.

Jim looked from their joined hands to her eyes. They were wide, the pupils big and black, ringed with just a hint of blue. Her lips parted and her cheeks were flushed.

Gripping her hand more tightly, he leaned toward her. Only a foot of space separated them. Heat radiated from her body and her warm breath brushed his face. He paused a few inches away, eyes trained on her lips, giving her time to reject his advance. When she didn’t, he inclined his head and covered her mouth with his.

Her lips were yielding and warm, so warm he wanted to sigh in relief. This was what he’d been waiting for, the thing he’d craved for so long. Just this, a kiss, something most people took for granted, but which was a milestone in his life. Having sex with Shirley was nothing compared to his mouth moving gently against Catherine’s soft lips. His eyes were closed, but he felt her murmur against his mouth.

Afraid it was an objection and she’d pull away, he slid his hands around her back, holding her close. He angled his head to kiss her harder, dared to sweep his tongue across her lips. Catherine’s mouth opened wider, perhaps to gasp in protest, and he took advantage of the opening to kiss her more deeply.

He slid his hands up her back, ensuring himself of the solid reality of her body. Beneath the smooth texture of her blouse was her heated flesh. How he wished he could feel her skin naked. His heart thundered when her tongue tentatively moved against his and her hands slid up his chest and gripped his shirt. She wasn’t pulling away, but reaching out for him too.

Catherine’s warm, supple body filling his arms and pressing against his was the most wonderful thing he’d ever felt. With his eyes closed, he could concentrate all his senses on the smell and feel of her. Jim breathed in her sweet fragrance and tasted mint on her tongue. He needed to breathe, but was afraid to stop kissing her for even a second. She might come to her senses and stop this.

Stroking the length of her back, he cupped her neck and fingered the curls at her nape. The strands were as silky as he’d imagined they would be, as soft and delicate as milkweed fluff. He longed to plunge his fingers into her hair and pull it from its pins. How would she look with her hair tumbled long and lustrous in a golden waterfall down her back?

Jim abandoned her mouth to kiss the curve of her cheek and her jawbone. Her high collar stopped him from nuzzling her neck or throat. He had to be content with grazing along the line of her jaw then returning to her lips.

Between their bodies, his cock strained toward her. He felt the warmth of her body against his erection even through all the layers of fabric--his pants, her skirt and petticoats. She must feel the unyielding bulge of his cock pressing into her, but she gave no sign nor did she move away. Instead, she moved even closer, kissing and kissing him in the quiet, dimness of the tack room. The scent of leather and lilacs filled the air.

Hands touching and caressing, lips and tongues searching and exploring, hot bodies pressed close together, it was more than he’d dreamed possible ... and it wasn’t nearly enough.

He wanted to be inside her so badly, he thrust against her. His body begged for hers even while his mind told him it could never happen. Catherine was not Shirley. She was a proper young woman who would never lie with some poor stable hand and destroy her virtue. He couldn’t have her, but he could hold her as long as she’d let him.

A tremor ran through her body. Her hands left his back, moving to his chest and pushing. He broke off the kiss. His eyes opened and searched hers.

She gazed back at him, her mouth open, gasping for air. Her white blouse rose and fell with each panting breath. She shook her head. “No. We can’t. I’m sorry.”

His gut twisted. He wanted to shout, “Why? Why can I never have what I want--just once?” Jim stepped forward, denying her words or pretending not to understand. He pulled her against him again, wrapping her in his arms and covering her mouth. He’d kiss her until she forgot her protests.

Justify your reading

2009-09-03T08:50:00.003-04:00

do it for charity! Just think. You're curled up with your favorite read and someone bugs you because you're having fun and friends and family want to make sure you don't get too much down time. "No, no," you say. "I'm not doing this for fun. I'm raising money for the cystic fibrosis foundation!"

And if you're a writer, you can do the writing so many words per day goal too. To play with us at Unleash Your Story and record your goals for September (Not too late to start) visit the UYS page.

Go on. Do it....or if you'd rather just fund me. Hey! I don't mind. Go to the unleash page at the CFF and look for Kate Rothwell as a fund-raiser.

If you donate to my group, and send me a note, I'll send a Summer Devon download to you. Any book you choose.

Plus for fund raisers, I'm giving away a whole Summer Devon packet of goodies at some point. We got a lot of prizes over there for fund-raisers

Contract coming soon

2009-09-02T00:00:00.001-04:00

Got a great email today. The kind of email every writer likes to receive.

"I'm very pleased to email you that Liquid Silver Books would like to make an offer to publish LOVING SOPHIA, for our Liquid line." Woo Hoo. So I'llhave another one out before too long. Loving Sophia is a contemporary. No paranormal this time. It's short, about 22k. I've posted a couple of excerpt here over the last month or so.

Click HERE to read one.

Hi everyone!

2009-08-31T06:39:00.002-04:00

Although I’m a new author, I’ve been writing for just over ten years. I guess you can say that the writing bug has bitten me big time!

And it has opened other creative doors too—I’ve tried my hand at film, modeling and dabbled in photography, but writing has always remained my favourite passion.

Besides my debut novel “Under Cover of Night”, I do have a couple of completed manuscripts that explore elements that I find fascinating. For instance, whatever happened to Napoleon during his exile after his defeat? I took a combination of that thought, his love for Egyptology and an Egyptian queen’s descendent and wrote a novel that I enjoyed putting together. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have a title yet (I have 3 that I like), but this paranormal was a pleasure to write.

Another bit of mythology is my love for Viking lore. Thor has always been an interesting subject, so I used him in an erotic time-travel, dealing with an archeologist. Now that was a lot of fun!

They both need to be critiqued, but in the meantime, I have something else on the go, something that took me quite by surprise. I’m entering a fitness competition.

Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Believe me, I never would have thought to do this, but after working with my personal trainer for over a year, and seeing the amazing results that my body has achieved, the idea popped into my head. And now my trainer’s been encouraging me ever since.

After the competition, I’ll definitely write a story about my journey to the stage. If anyone is interested in my progress, you can check out the details at my website charlroberts.wordpress.com

Thank you Erotic Muses, for letting me post on your blog today!! J

And here is the rest of it.

Cock Blocking

2009-08-25T01:51:00.001-04:00

Raise your hand if you're sick of:

1) seeing a million boobs in movies and cable TV shows, but no penises

2) being told that women don't really want to see penises, soft or erect, because women "aren't visual"

3) hearing that male bodies look silly and that the female body is beautiful and more artistic

4) seeing men in porn that run the gamut from boring to gross

Why is the world so afraid of cock? I have my theories, which I'll get to in a moment, but right now I want to point out the double standard. I noticed it on HUNG, a TV show about a male gigolo that - even though it's intended for a hetero female audience - shows a lot of topless women, while the male lead never shows his cock. And then I found out that FILAMENT, a new UK women's erotic magazine, has has trouble finding printers and distributors willing to print a magazine of aroused naked men. Although it's not illegal to show a hard cock, the good old double standard - passed off as excuses that religious women would be offended - is once again trying to obstruct women's enjoyment of hot naked men. And it's working, because as a new magazine, FILAMENT can't afford a small, more liberal printer that would print naked erections.

Frankly I think men are afraid of comparisons being drawn - and afraid of their women lusting after other men. We're used to seeing women naked and half-undressed everywhere from magazine covers to movies, but men are somehow never quite as vulnerable; where actresses often have their bodies compared, famous actors rarely have their penis size compared because we rarely get to see them. This is an old, tired double standard and it needs to change!

Objects of Desire

2009-08-24T14:05:00.008-04:00

After quite a few years of not painting, I'm getting back into the art world, making art (or at least trying to), looking at art, and dipping my toe into the whole gallery search thing that seems to be the measure of an artist's success. As an artist, I'm fine with the fact that there are more women as subject matter in major musuems than there are women artists. And as a writer, I'm completely comfy with the idea of objectifying people, male or female. But yesterday, I visited a gallery that got me thinking about what I've done to men (and women) in my stories, or perhaps allowed them to do to each other. And about readers.

It was supposed to be a drive-by, just peek in the window and look at the quality of the space and the art on the walls. No face-to-face contact at all, especially since the gallery was supposedly closed. But the door was cracked open. I knew this place offered special nude drawing sessions, so nosy me entered quietly just to get a better feel for things. What could it hurt?

The front room gave way to a dimly lit room, kinda strange for a gallery as lighting is key to featuring the work on the walls. I turned the corner. Four men looked up at me from their reading. The owner introduced himself, and I told him I was here to learn more about his space. He was soft-spoken and gracious, and said to look around. It was definitely a man's gallery... many nude photos of women on the walls, an ad from a nude model who was available for photo shoots, that kind of thing. Not all nekkid content, but a lot more than I'd expected. The shots weren't anything close to some of the kink I'd written and read, but staring at erotically charged images in a darkened room with men I didn't know seemed... off. I felt as if I'd opened a book I wasn't comfortable reading while the owner prepared paperwork for me. I took the application as graciously as possible and said my goodbyes.

On the way to my car, I wondered about why I'd felt so uncomfortable. Maybe because I couldn't shut out the experience while there like I could choose to close a book if it wasn't to my liking? Or maybe because I wasn't in the privacy of my own home? In paper (or on computer screen), I'm don't hold back usually. I'm comfortable with edgy... when it's on my terms. So even though I felt the urge to take a shower after my visit, I felt guilty as well -- for not keeping an open mind when trying something new. Or perhaps for not being able to handle getting more than I'd bargained for.

For the record, the gallery has been in business for years and seems to have a good reputation, for what they offer. But like a reader who buys a book, I should've done a little more digging first, I guess. To dip my toe in a little deeper and make sure it was a good fit for me before plunging into the pool. No matter how I look at it, I did come away with a few story ideas, like: She entered the dark gallery, anxious for what was about to happen, then saw the four men and smiled. The men smiled back at her... and began to take of their clothes....

Thanks, Erotic Muses, for letting me post today!

Laura Bacchi

(Note: Laura's computer has a virus, and she emailed this for me to post 5 hours ago. Unfortunately, I'm in the UK and have been driving to my hotel for the past several hours, and just now received this. My apologies to Laura, and all the readers here, that I didn't get this up sooner. Lisa Andel)

And here is the rest of it.

NEW from Paige Tyler - VALUABLE CARGO!

2009-08-23T00:00:00.000-04:00

Hey Everyone!

I'm so excited about my sexy, new sci-fi erotic romance, Valuable Cargo, available from Liquid Silver Books!

I don't write a lot of sci-fi stories, so this one was a lot of fun to come up with. It was also a little challenging, too. In a sci-fi story, you have to spend a certain amount of time developing the supporting environment, like how the spaceship works, what the planets looks like, and how things are different than they are here on earth. That can end up being a book in itself. But you still have to tell an engaging story about a guy and a girl that a romance reader would want to sit down and curl up with. So, you can't spend so much time on the background stuff that the main story gets lost. That said, I think I've pulled it off pretty well - if I do say so myself! LOL!

I suppose the best way to introduce you to the book is to tell you a little about how the idea popped into my head. My hubby and I were up at the Marshal Space Center in Alabama doing some sightseeing when we came across this cute little model of the X-33, a sleek looking space craft that NASA was thinking about building to replace for the space shuttle. That got us talking about whether humans could ever travel beyond our Solar System. Since it would take a really long time to go that distance, we decided astronauts would have to put themselves in some kind of cryogenic suspension or hypersleep during the journey. It was right then, I knew I had the beginnings of a sci-fi story in the making!

After I played around with the idea for a while (years actually), I decided to make things a little bit more interesting by having the hero's ship go off course after he puts himself in hypersleep. Thanks to the malfunction, the computer doesn't bring him out of hypersleep when it's supposed to and Garrick, the hunky, six-foot-four, blond-haired, blue-eyed astronaut, wakes up seven-hundred years in the future to find himself on a spaceship full of beautiful women!

Mankind has changed a lot in seven-hundred years and they don't make men like Garrick anymore, so as you can imagine, the women think he's totally hot. He's only interested in one of them, though, Tanna, the ship's sexy captain. While Tanna knows the problems getting involved with Garrick could create among the crew, she can't resist and finds herself inviting him into her bed, not to mention other interesting places!

Unfortunately, Tanna isn't the only one interested in Garrick. When I said they don't make me like him anymore, I meant it. Seven-hundred years in the future, six-foot-four, blond-haired blue-eyed guys are nonexistent and there are a lot of unscrupulous people who will do anything to get their hands on him!

I hope I've whet your appetite and that you want to read more about Tanna and Garrick! If you decide to pick it up, let me know how you like it! I love hearing from readers!

They Don't Make Guys Like Him Anymore!

Tanna Aldrick is the captain of a deep space salvage ship in the twenty-ninth century. When she and her all-female crew stumble upon an ancient ship floating in the middle of nowhere, they figure they might be able to find a few valuable tidbits left on the decrepit spacecraft. But what they discover is more valuable than anything they could have ever imagined finding – a gorgeous hunk of a man from the twenty-second century, perfectly preserved in cryogenic suspension. Mankind has changed a lot in seven-hundred years, and six-foot-four, blond-haired, blue-eyed guys like him aren’t just rare; they’re nonexistent.

From the moment they revive him, Tanna finds herself falling for their handsome passenger. As logical as her reasons for not getting romantically involved with him are, however, she still finds herself inviting him into her bed.

Garrick Carlisle wakes up after seven-hundred years in hypersleep to find that everything and everyone he knew is gone. Lost and disconnected, the only thing that keeps him from completely losing it is the beautiful and sexy, dark-haired ship’s captain who rescued him.

Tanna isn’t the only person interested in Garrick, though. A man like him would bring a high price on the slave blocks on any number of planets and there are a lot of unscrupulous people in the galaxy willing to do anything to get their hands on him.

How far will Tanna go to protect her valuable cargo and what will Garrick do to stay with the woman he has come to love?

Excerpt:

To her surprise, the derelict ship hadn’t been stripped at all. There were two old looking satellites in the hold, as well as dozens of containers. They were all marked with a series of numbers and letters that didn’t mean anything to her, so there was no way to tell what was in them.

Taking out her radiac, Tanna scanned the hold for radiation. If there had been anything really dangerous, the sensors on her ship would have picked it up, but she wanted to be sure. There was a little bit of reading around the satellites, but nothing significant. The containers were completely safe.

“This looks like old test equipment of some type,” Vi said from behind her.

Tanna turned to see that Vi had opened one of the containers and was looking at a collection of metal instruments. Tanna didn’t have a clue what any of it was, but it was ancient, which meant it was going to be worth some money.

Curious, Tanna made her way over to the box Vi had opened while the other girl and Leala went off to explore the control room. She had barely started investigating when Leala’s voice came through the speaker in her headset.

“Um, Captain, I think you should see this.”

Her brow furrowing at the odd tone in her engineer’s voice, Tanna immediately set down the piece of equipment she’d been holding and headed for the control room. Seeing Vi standing just inside a doorway on the opposite side of the room, she quickly made her way over to the woman.

Letting the light from her torch play about the inner room, Tanna saw that it was a joint galley and med-bay.

“What did you find?” she asked as she stepped into the room. “Something valuable?”

Leala was standing in front of a glass-enclosed container of some sort. From her vantage point, Tanna couldn’t see what was inside it, but there was a series of brightly colored blinking lights at the bottom of the unit.

The engineer turned to her with a smile. “Oh, yeah.”

Frowning at the woman’s cryptic answer, Tanna walked over to where her engineer stood, only to stare at the pod in stunned silence. Leala had wiped off the light coating of frost from the upper portion of the pod, and through the glass, Tanna saw that there was a man inside. A completely gorgeous – and from the parts she could see – very well-built man who, shockingly, appeared to be in perfect health. The pod container must be some type of hypersleep chamber, she thought. She had heard of those, but no one had used them in over five-hundred years, not since the invention of the faster-than-light Tachyon drive. That meant the ship was even older than they had thought, back from the days of sub-light space travel.

The fact that the man was still alive after so long wasn’t the only thing that made him unusual. Not only was he all beautifully sculpted muscle, but he was also unusually tall as well. The hypersleep chamber was at least seven feet long and the guy did a pretty good job of filling it up. That meant he was at least six-four or six-five. At five-ten, Tanna was as tall as any man she’d ever met, and taller than some, but this guy would clearly tower over her. She let her gaze run over his broad shoulders and muscular chest appreciatively. Damn, the guy was built. The hypersleep chamber must be equipped with some type of electro-stimulation to keep him in such great shape for so long, she thought.

Her gaze went to his face. She had been so distracted by his body that she hadn’t really spent much time looking at it before, but as she took in his square jaw and chiseled features, she decided he had to be the most attractive man she’d ever seen. She stared at his dark-blond hair, fascinated by the color. She hadn’t seen that many people with blond hair in her life. And most of the people she had seen had artificially colored it. She had no doubt his was the real deal. All at once, she found herself wondering what color his eyes were. They had to be blue, she thought. That would match his hair perfectly.

Glancing at the other two women, Tanna saw they were equally entranced by him, and she watched breathlessly as Vi began to wipe more frost off the front of the glass to reveal a washboard stomach and lean hips.

“Vi, that’s enough,” Tanna ordered abruptly, pushing the other woman’s hand away when she started to move lower.

Vi frowned. “I just wanted to see if he’s built like that everywhere.”

Tanna wouldn’t have minded seeing more of him herself, especially since the only men she had seen naked in a while had been the computer-generated ones conjured up in the holo-chamber on their ship. And they definitely hadn’t looked anything like him. But ogling a man while he was in a hypersleep pod just seemed wrong.

“Try to control yourself.” She glanced at Leala. “Do you think he can be revived?”

Leala chewed on her lip as she eyed the equipment. After a moment, she shrugged. “The chamber’s really old, but everything seems to be functioning properly. Sela would probably know more, though.”

Sela Fanaday was the salvage ship’s resident bio-system engineer, but she also served as their med-tech when they needed one.

Tanna turned her gaze back to the handsome man asleep inside the pod. “Is this ship safe enough to bring on board?” she asked Leala.

The girl shrugged. “I don’t see why not, Captain. The sensors didn’t pick up any hazardous cargo and I haven’t seen anything dangerous. There’s isn’t even any fuel left.”

Still gazing at the man, Tanna flipped over to the ship’s frequency on her radio and spoke into the headset. “Malana, we’re bringing the ship aboard.”

“Did you find anything valuable?” the first officer asked.

Tanna only smiled. Oh yeah, they had definitely found something valuable.

* * * *

Dear God, he was absolutely perfect, Tanna thought as she gazed down at the sleeping man an hour later. The blanket that Sela had carefully tucked around him left his chest and shoulders exposed to her appreciative gaze, and she had to fight off the almost irresistible urge to reach out and run her hands over his smoothly sculpted muscles. How many hours a day would a guy have to work out to look like this?

After bringing his ship aboard, they had transferred his hypersleep chamber to their own med-bay so Sela could examine him, which the woman had done once she had gotten over her shock at seeing their cargo. Since no one used stasis chambers like his anymore, Sela had to do some research in the computer archives to figure out how to revive him. Following the procedure she had found on the computer, Sela had slowly brought him out of hypersleep. Tanna had expected him to come awake right away, but the other girl had told her that wasn’t how it worked. It could take hours for him to wake up. According to the med-tech, though, his vitals were strong, which was a good sign. That didn’t stop Tanna from worrying, though.

Getting her crew to focus on anything but the man laying in the med-bay had been almost impossible since then. Especially after Sela had hurried to the shuttle bay and briefed everyone in great detail about her patient and those parts of his anatomy they hadn’t seen yet. Her description had brought the rest of the crew running to the med-bay so they could take a look for themselves. Sela was just about to pull the blanket down for a little show-and-tell when Tanna finally pulled rank and tossed the other women out of the med-bay, sending them back down to the shuttle bay to take a closer look at his ship and the salvage it contained. Anything to distract them.

A few minutes ago, Malana had called on the ship’s intercom to let her know they had located the class and ident-number of his ship. According to the database, it had disappeared in the year 2104. Other than that, the computer didn’t know a lot about it. Or him. Malana had found some uniforms in a storage locker, though, with the name Carlisle on them. There was a shoulder patch of a flag with red and white stripes and stars in the corner on one sleeve. There was another patch underneath that, this one with the letters ISEA. A search of that acronym had turned up the name International Space Exploration Administration, an Earth-based government agency that had conducted space research in the early part of the twenty-second century. Tanna shook her head. Well, whoever he was, he was going to be in for one hell of a shock when he woke up. If he woke up.

Tanna was just wondering if she should call Sela so the other girl could check on him again when the man’s eyelids suddenly fluttered open and she found herself gazing into the most incredible pair of blue eyes that she had ever seen. She’d been right about the color, she realized a little breathlessly. And they did go perfectly with his blond hair.

Read an Excerpt!
http://www.paigetylertheauthor.com/ExcerptValuableCargo.html

Watch the Trailer!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkKFPyups-U

Buy it from Liquid Silver Books!
http://www.king-cart.com/cgi-bin/cart.cgi?store=linda018&product_name=Valuable+Cargo&return_page=&user-id=&password=&exchange=&exact_match=exact

For more of my sexy erotic fiction, visit my website at http://www.paigetylertheauthor.com/

*hugs*
Paige

"Stories so hot, they'll make your cheeks blush!"

ANIMAL ATTRACTION, 2009 EPPIE Finalist!
ANIMAL INSTINCT, #1 Bestseller at WCPT!

Cinderella Available Now

2009-08-21T06:00:00.001-04:00

CINDERELLA UNMASKED is a marvelous, magical fairytale of a grown-up Cinderella. She’s long since outgrown girlish notions of a sweeping romantic love. Life and her prince have not been all she’d hoped for. Tired of constant work and never any play, Queen Ella decides to throw a ball and find a sexual partner for a bit of fun. One ball turns into three with some devastatingly powerful sexual encounters. But it is her Chief Steward and right-hand-man Sebastian who’s always there in her life to provide support and encouragement, and Ella begins to understand that true love is about trust, loyalty and partnership.

This story kicks off Marie & my Fairytale Fantasies series. We’ve just completed book number two—a little something about spinning straw into gold. But the hero is no gnarled gnome and his name’s definitely not Rumplestiltskin. DEMON LOVER should be available in 2010.

Here’s an excerpt from CINDERELLA UNMASKED, now available at Samhain.

The garden was as cool and quiet as heaven after the heat and noise of the ballroom, but it was hardly the private haven Ella had fantasized. There were many strolling, hand-holding and kissing couples along the winding paths. From behind bushes and thick tree trunks came sounds that suggested much more than kissing and fondling. The grunts and gasps that drifted through the night air made her nipples tighten and her breathing grow ragged.

From behind a high hedge a woman whined like a bitch in heat. Ella glanced at the handsome man walking beside her not even trying to take her hand. Would he do things to her to make her whimper like that? Would he drag her off the path and rip her bodice in his hurry to suckle her breasts? Would he bend her over the nearest stone bench and flip up her skirts to take her from behind? Or would he, like the man in her imagination, push her up against a tree trunk, tell her to wrap her arms around it, then fuck her hard and fast. Her body ached and itched all over just from imagining it and her pussy felt as slippery as warmed butter.

“So what is it that would please a dairymaid queen?” Joseph asked as they strolled along the walkway. The gravel crunched underfoot and the breeze lifted the curls around Ella’s face, cooling her heated cheeks.

“I’m ashamed to ask it, sir. You’ll think me forward and unseemly.” She adopted a false demure tone as she cast another sideways glance at the tall stranger. And then suddenly she wasn’t playing a role as she realized what kind of fire she was prepared to singe her fingers with. To take a strange man as a lover was one thing in a fantasy, quite another in reality. She might be a queen, but that didn’t mean she could do as she liked. On the contrary, her movements were far more scrutinized than a milkmaid’s might be.

“Honestly, I’m not sure what I’d like,” she admitted. “I thought I wanted to make love under the stars like a wild bohemian, but now that we’re out here I’ll confess I’m a little nervous.”

He looked at her and the whites of his eyes gleamed in the moonlight. His teeth did, too, as he spoke. “Perhaps you’d like someone to take control, rescue you from having to make yet another decision in a life that’s too full of decision-making.”

Ella smiled, her pulse leaping yet again at the suggestion. “Perhaps I would.”

He stopped walking then and turned to face her, taking her by the shoulders and looking down into her eyes. “Then that is what I’ll give you, Madam, a night free of choice. Your only responsibility will be to obey my commands. Does that sound possible to you?”

“It sounds absolutely refreshing,” she sighed.

****
“Do you trust me?”

The words hung heavily in the air between them. Perhaps it was the darkness of night that gave them a sinister quality. Ella glimpsed one of her bodyguards at a distance, trying unsuccessfully to blend into the shadows of a tree. Someone was only a cry away if the situation got out of hand. She looked into Joseph’s eyes, shadowed by the mask that surrounded them and nodded.

“Yes, I trust you.”

He glanced at the guard then back at her and smiled. “Maybe not completely, but that’s all right.”

For a moment they stayed locked together with his hands on her shoulders, their gazes meshed. He stared at her mouth, and Ella’s lips trembled with the need to be kissed. Slowly he inclined his head. She rose up on her toes and leaned into him. His warm breath touched her face. It smelled like mint and chocolate. Would his tongue taste the same?

His face filled her vision, and she closed her eyes as his mouth descended toward hers. Then he kissed her cheek, a light brush of his warm lips near the corner of her mouth before he pulled away.

Ella’s eyes flew open. She stared at him with her eyebrows raised.

“I won’t kiss your mouth, Marie. Kissing is for those in love. We’re only temporary lovers.”

“Oh.” Her disappointment was keen, but she’d agreed to play the game his way, to let him direct the course of their evening. She could hardly complain because he didn’t intend to kiss her.

Joseph let go of her shoulders and took her by the hand. “Come.”

Ella walked quickly to keep up with his longer strides. He led her from the gardens near the ballroom, away from the light spilling through the windows and the sweet sorrow of violin music that floated behind them.

“Where are we—”

“No questions,” he commanded. “Blind obedience tonight. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t enjoy.”

They’d crossed the lawn and were approaching the tall hedge of the walking maze, so Ella’s question about destination was answered. But what Joseph would do to her in the dark avenues and blind alleys of the labyrinth remained to be answered.

He stopped before the entrance of the maze and drew a handkerchief from his trouser pocket. He dangled it before her, and Ella understood he was about to blindfold her.

“You don’t know me, but this game won’t be enjoyable unless you trust me. So I ask again—do you trust me?”

He was right, she didn’t know him, and how foolish was she to trust a complete stranger with her body? And yet, despite the fact that his face, physique and voice were foreign to her, there was a quality of familiarity about Joseph. On some deeply elemental level she did trust him. Completely.

Ella took off her violet-colored mask, glad to feel her face uncovered for the first time all evening. She turned her back to him, indicating her readiness to be blindfolded.

A moment later, her eyes were enveloped in darkness as Joseph tied the handkerchief around them. He stood behind her, gripping her shoulders again, and spoke softly near her ear. “I want you to be aware of all your senses. Listen to the night sounds. Breathe in the scents all around you. Feel the air on your skin or the scratch of the hedge against your arm as you pass. I want you to experience everything more deeply than you ever have before, and when we reach the center of the maze…”

He stopped, and Ella held her breath, waiting for him to tell her what would happen there. Instead, his heavy hands left her shoulders as he stepped away from her. She was floating in darkness, alone, without an anchor.

What did he want her to do, fumble along blindly through the maze? Or was she supposed to wait for his direction? She held very still, listening for his breathing. She couldn’t hear it, but did hear the steady chirp of a cricket, the trill of a chorus of frogs and the soft soughing of the breeze through the dense branches of the hedge shrubbery.

But even though she couldn’t hear Joseph, she sensed him nearby and knew he was watching her. The knowledge was incredibly erotic. She wanted to be naked as he gazed on her—naked, blindfolded and vulnerable. Her nipples poked hard against the bodice of her blouse and her skin felt too sensitive against her clothing.

“Walk straight forward.” A low, commanding voice moved her feet. She took a few careful steps, testing the ground, feeling for something that might trip her.

“Take small steps, but take them with confidence,” he ordered.

Ella resisted the urge to put up her hands and feel for obstacles in front of her as she walked several paces forward. Even though her arms didn’t brush against it, she felt the hedge rise on either side of her as she entered the maze. She became aware of how much farther her body’s perceptions extended without sight to identify the world around her.

“Turn left.”

Walking blind, she turned sharply and continued forward again. She thought she was walking straight, but soon felt twigs and leaves scratching her left arm. Remembering that the maze was circular, she adjusted her course from a straight line to a slightly curved one.

The voice came from immediately behind her. “Good. Stop. Turn right then immediately left.”

She felt his warm presence heating her backside even though he didn’t touch her, and she obeyed his directions, moving farther into the maze. The narrow pathways were shadowed and mysterious during the day so it must be pitch black tonight even for Joseph, who was not wearing a blindfold. Yet he gave one command after the other as if he knew the maze intimately. She didn’t feel like they were becoming hopelessly lost.

Although it was a cool evening, in the shelter of the yew hedges Ella’s flesh began to heat from exertion and in anticipation of what would happen next. The sounds of their footsteps on the grass, the snap of an occasional twig, the distant, mournful hooting of an owl, were all magnified by the darkness. The pungent smell of the yews filled her nose, and her body felt more aware, more alive, than it had in a long time.

She continued to walk as Joseph directed her to. His tone wasn’t overbearing, but calmly assertive, and she found the deep rumble of his voice unbearably attractive.

“Stop!” he ordered at last.

Ella felt a wider space around her. She could no longer sense the shrub walls closing in, and to check she extended her arms, feeling for the thicket. Joseph’s footsteps approached. His hot body was right behind hers again. Her heart pounded and she swallowed past the dryness in her throat.

When his hand touched her head, she started, but relaxed as he stroked the length of her hair, which she’d left down and undressed for her role as a milkmaid. She tensed again when he slipped his hands around her neck, but he only caressed her throat before slipping one hand down to the scooped neckline of her blouse. The heat of his palm felt imprinted on her chest.

Joseph reached for the hem of her blouse and lifted it. Ella raised her arms, and he pulled it off her. She was left wearing only a camisole, having rejected a corset for this evening. His mouth touched her bare shoulder and she shivered. The tiny hairs on her forearms rose as he pressed soft, damp kisses down the length of her arm. As he’d promised, every touch felt more intense with the blindfold on. Ella held as still as a doll and let him do what he would with her.

food of love

2009-08-20T12:06:00.002-04:00

I'm writing a dinner scene and realized that lobster is definitely not romantic unless you're into humor. That's more food of laughter than love.

I guess Lady and the Tramp made spaghetti romantic. But dude, that stuff can really be a mess.

Then I remembered heck, it isn't the food that mattered. Here's a G-rated eating scene from Tom Jones . Yes indeedy, their manners are atrocious but the sex? It is there. So are the lobsters.

Threesome - the movie

2009-08-19T07:01:00.003-04:00

I watched a movie last night entitled "Threesome." The tagline... One girl. Two boys. Three possibilities. Starring Laura Flynn Boyle, Stephen Baldwin, and Josh Charles. Released in 1994.

Short summary: Eddy and Stuart await their thrid roommate for their three room college suit. Surprise. When Alex shows up, boy are they surprised. Alex is female. Though in the beginning they don't really get along, they manage to work thigns out and become friends.

Hmm sounds boring. Well, Stuart lusts after Alex. Alex lusts after Eddy. Eddy lusts after Stuart. Now that's interesting.

Ok,I didn't expect to like the movie. Considering its release date, I thought it would be pretty silly. I was part of the early 90's college crowd and I can tell you I was fairly ridiculous myself. Shocker. Shocker. I realy enjoyed it. If you get the chance check it out.

Apologies

2009-08-17T17:40:00.005-04:00

Nathalie Grey recently moved from Germany to Canada. She apologizes for missing her post today, but she's still awaiting her brain, which she accidentally left behind.

Please join her here on August 30. She plans to be here ... with or without her brain.

.

Cinderella Unmasked

2009-08-14T06:00:00.001-04:00

Three balls. Three sexual adventures. One true love. Cinderella Unmasked

Queen Ella has long since put girlish notions of romantic love away. In the five years since her husband, King Charming left her to “find himself” on board a pirate ship, she’s been ruling the country alone. Her trusty Chief Steward, Sebastian has been her only confidant and best advisor.

Ella is ready to live again and to experience the sexual pleasures Charming had never been able to give her. She decides to hold a masquerade ball where she’ll indulge herself with a stranger. One ball turns into three with escalating levels of sexual exploits. But are these dalliances enough to satisfy her?

As Ella begins to notice odd similarities between the different masked men who make love to her, she can’t deny her growing emotions. She must learn to trust that not every man will abandon her as her father and husband have done. She must give herself over to the power of real love.

Will Ella’s indiscretions come back to harm her when her stepfamily makes a play for her throne? Will a figure from her past change her future? And just who is the masked man, or men, who’ve fulfilled her wildest sexual fantasies?

The first in Marie Treanor and my Fairytale Fantasy series will be available from Samhain on August 18. This is a very sexy and fun story about what a mature Cinderella learns about true love and happily ever afters.

Marie and I are currently almost finished with Demon Lover, the second in our Fairytale Fantasy series.

You thought you knew the tale about spinning straw into gold? Rumplestiltskin is not his name and this hunk’s no gnarled old goblin.

Where is the Muse? by Amy Ruttan

2009-08-10T08:38:00.000-04:00

And of course I sing that to the song "Where is the love?" by the Black Eyed Peas, but I think it's a valid question Where is the Muse? More importantly where was my muse?

I'm still trying to figure out where she went on our wee hiatus this year. Especially since I was knocked up with no place to go. Seriously, I was confined to bed, all the time in the world to right but my Muse was gone. She scarpered off and I thought all sorts of horrible things. I thought I had burned myself out. OMG. I thought things like, maybe I only had the few books in me. *Gasp*

Or maybe I just bored her as pregnancy hormones turned my brain into utter mush. For as my brain oozed into my expanding waist line and expanding bust line I just couldn't write.

Even the bright shiny star of my first ever Romantic Times 4 Star Review for my book Rain God in the Tempting Turquoise book just couldn't rev my engine. How can one write sexy when that was the reason you were uncomfortable and very round?

Then it happened, the magical day I went in and popped out a man (yeah I know), and as I was trying to use my time in the hospital recuperating (because seriously 10.5 lbs does a number on you) my Muse showed up late one night on June 26th.

"Hi?" she said in that oh so bubbly way that grated on my nerves. She was slim and tanned and looked refresh. I, however, looked like I had been hit by a bus.

"Where the heck of you been?"

"Vacationing, resting, that kind of thing. What have you been doing?"

"D'uh obvious."

"Oh yeah," she laughs and checks her nails (what a prima donna). "Anyways I got all these for you."

And there she lands me with four stories, and of course, I have to work on them all at once.

"Gah!" I gasp. "But, but ... this is my time to rest. I don't feel exactly sexy like this?!"

"Yeah so lets get to work okay? I don't have all day."

And here I am *sigh* 6 weeks postpartum, working on 4 stories simultaneously. I still can't figure out why my Muse decided to come back to me in the hospital. Was it the pain killers, or the impeccable food? Was it that sterile smell? Or the oh so sexy hospital gowns?

I still haven't figured it out, I'm just glad she's back.

It always fascinates me how writers get their muses back. Some listen to music, some read or watch books. Others relax in the varying ways, and I just pray and hope that having babies isn't how to get me out of a dry spell, especially when said condition caused the burn out.

So I thought to fire up all your senses, and thank every Lisa and everyone at Erotic Muses for letting a hormone ridden, sleep deprived and manic erotic writer ramble here that I would give away a print copy of my book Tempting Turquoise.

All you have to do is email me at contact @ amyruttan dot com (no spaces and a dot is a period) and tell me the name of the Rain God, the hero of my story. The answer can be found on my website here and on the 11th of August I'll draw a winner and contact them, and post the winner in the contest section.

Thanks to the Muses for letting me post here, and thanks to my flighty muse for coming back. ;)

A contest celebrating Taken Unaware in print

2009-08-06T08:10:00.005-04:00

Go on over to my Kate Rothwell blog and make comment. That's all you have to do and you're entered to win a book sometime this week.

The two books I'm giving away are Taken Unaware (print version) and Thank You, Mrs. M (ebook)

If you want to win a $25 gift certificate, a book and a bag of M&Ms (melts in your mouth, not in the mail), you can mention my contest in your own blog/facebook page... or even just twitter about it with a link. That contest runs until August 29.

I like to keep things simple for all of us!

Waking Annabel

2009-08-05T08:55:00.003-04:00

The first story of ever wrote was "Waking Annabel". My husband and mother kept daring me to seat down and write something, so I did. Set in Atlanta, I got my inspiration from Designing Women. Why? Because my mother bought the laptop I wrote it on, and when I was younger that was the one show my mother and I watched together. Tomorrow is my mother's birthday. So I thought I'd post and excerpt from "Waking Annabel".

"Annabel."

Jason spoke her name softly. His deep voice sent chills down her spine, and caused her nipples to harden. Her hands froze on the keyboard; she stared at the monitor, unable to turn and look over her shoulder. She knew what she would see. Jason. Tall, broad, sexy Jason. Every inch of him screaming SEX. Stubborn Jason. Relentless Jason.

For the last three weeks, she had turned down invitation after invitation. Thank you for the flowers. No, I don't think dinner is a good idea. Thank you for the chocolates. No, I don't think lunch is a good idea. Please no more flowers..

Taking a deep breath, Annabel spun her leather chair around to face him. There he was, in all his glory. She felt the impact low in her stomach.

Jason was leaning against the doorjamb, holding a small silver and white gift bag in one hand. The other hand was tucked into his pants pocket, his tie was gone, and his shirt buttons loosened. Black hair and brooding eyes added to the sexy slouch. Annabel almost whimpered. If he didn't stop soon, she was going to give in. For a moment she couldn't remember why she was fighting the attraction.

When Annabel still didn't speak, Jason pressed the advantage, stepped into her office and shut the door. She could read the determination on his face, he was not going to let her continue to run away. They had been building up to this for weeks. Annabel was surprised he had let her run for this long.

Rather than sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk, Jason walked over to stand in front of her. He leaned against the desk, trapping her between himself and the computer. He set the bag on the desk.

Both were silent as they stared into each other's face. Jason looked captivated by the beauty in front of him. Annabel froze in wonder and amazement of the sensuality of the man before her. Jason was the first to move.

Leaning over, he placed a hand on each of the arms of Annabel's chair. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply. "God, I love the way you smell." His eyes, burning with intensity, connected with hers.

Jason smiled slowly. "Hello, Annabel." Leaning closer, he kissed her cheek.

The contact caused Annabel to jerk back. "Jason." His first name slipped out. His closeness had her rattled, off kilter. Usually she kept him at a distance by being overly polite, by addressing him as Mr. O'Brien. Jason smiled at her slip, and settled back against her desk.

Annabel took a deep breath to calm her rioting nerves, but it only made matters worse. God, he smelled as good as he looked. Hot. Spicy. Like nothing she had ever smelled before. Her nipples hardened to the point of pain. She cleared her throat. "Mr.—"

Jason put a gentle finger to her lips. "You got it right the first time. It's Jason." Turning, he picked up the bag. "Since the flowers and chocolates haven't worked, I picked up something different. Thought I would deliver it personally."

Annabel took the bag, but didn't look in it. She stood to put some distance between them. Jason didn't move, so she had to step around him. The space gave her confidence. Once she was on the other side of the desk, she turned and faced him. "Mr. O'Brien. You are putting me in a very awkward position. The—"

Seated at her desk, he grinned up at her. "Awkward is not the position I want you in."

Blushing furiously, Annabel scowled down at him. "Mr. O'Brien—"

"Jason." Leaning back, he propped his feet on her desk. He was pushing her, "I'm getting tired of the ice maiden act."

Anger flared brightly in her eyes. "Jason." She drew out his name in a long, low hiss. "You are putting me in an awkward position. One I don't care for." She held up her hand when Jason opened his mouth. "No, let me finish. I work for you. Or at least my firm has a contract with your company. So we have a business relationship. The flowers, the candy, and what ever this is..." She shook the bag at him. "This is not part of the relationship we have. You have asked me to dinner. I have refused. Maybe I haven't been polite enough. Maybe you see no as a yes. Maybe you see this as a challenge. I don't know. I don't care. But it is going to stop now." With that, she tossed the gift in his lap. Secretly ashamed of her behavior, Annabel nonetheless straightened her shoulders and stared into his eyes.

With a satisfied smile, Jason opened the bag she had thrown in his lap. Rustling around in the white tissue, he lifted a delicate glass bottle. "I knew this was your scent. When I walked by the counter, without even knowing what you wear, I could identify the scent. It's this." He gently placed the small bottle on her desk.

The size didn't fool Annabel. He had bought her perfume, not cologne, but perfume. Outrageously expensive perfume in a crystal bottle. He had gotten the scent correct. That he was so attuned to her. That he knew her scent, amazed her. Floored her. Disarmed her.

With a trembling hand, she reached across the desk and picked up the elegant bottle. Lifting the stopper, the fragrance filled the room.

Jason moved to stand in front of her. Taking the stopper from her hand, he lightly ran the tip along her neck and collarbones. "I think of you day and night. I dream of you, your smell, your voice. Your scent is in my head." He placed the stopper back in the bottle, and put the bottle on her desk. Cupping her shoulders in his hands, he pulled her close, chest to chest. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. "Soft, sexy..." pausing, he dipped his head closer, "you." Then he kissed her.

Caught in his spell, enthralled by his words, Annabel didn't protest, didn't move. Instead, she closed her eyes and relaxed against him. Welcoming his kiss.

Jason scattered small kisses across her cheek and down her neck, following the trail of the perfume. "When you put this on I want you to think of me. I want you to put it here," he kissed the spot behind her ear, "and here," he kissed the skin just below her breastbone. Raising his head, he cupped her face in his hands. She met his intense black eyes. "Put it on all your pulse points, all your tender, secret spots, and when you do think of me. Touching you, kissing every soft scented inch of you."

Annabel moaned airily. He was seducing her with his softly whispered words. Beguiling words. Sexy words. He was seducing her with his need, causing a reciprocal need to flare in her. Warmth flooded her, causing her to clinch her thighs in need.

Annabel gave in. Leaning against him, she curled her arms around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. Warm, soft, moist. She could taste peppermint on his tongue. The kiss was a slow discovery of each other. His tongue slowly and thoroughly explored the interior of her mouth. One kiss turned into another, then another. She could feel his erection pressing against her stomach. She rubbed herself against it, against him. Purring, she pressed closer, to feel the length and width of him.

Jason was the one to break the contact. Scarcely pulling his lips from hers, he opened his eyes and smiled at her. Without thinking, just reacting, Annabel smiled back.

"Annabel, have dinner with me?" His voice was low, tender. A request, not a demand.

"Yes." Annabel's voice was just as soft, dreamy.

"I'll pick you up at seven." Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, Jason quickly and quietly left.

Middle School Memories, Long Lost Books

2009-08-04T01:58:00.001-04:00

Maybe it's because I'm a huge book nerd, but when I think of my childhood and teenage years, I often remember the books I loved. As I'm guessing most of us writers were, I was a passionate reader who read my way through both the school and public library in a flash. Perhaps because those books were the most engrossing part of my life back then (before sex and writing my own books seized that throne) they still seem imbued with magic. Hence I have been a big fan of Lizzie Skurnick's Jezebel column Fine Lines, which re-examines those same YA books.

Skurnick has managed to rescusitate countless authors who thrilled me, from Lois Duncan to VC Andrews to Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume. From HARRIET THE SPY to FLOWERS IN THE ATTIC, her columns brought back my middle school memories in a vivid rush. Now she has released an awesome book - SHELF DISCOVERY - that looks at a wide array of the YA titles now-adult women loved as kids.

The older I get, the more sentimental I grow about those long-lost years where my happiest moments were curling up with a good book. So this book has already earned a special place in my heart. Anyone who was a girl in the 70's or 80's just might find it does the same for them.

Why I love romance readers & authors

2009-08-03T09:36:00.005-04:00

Thanks so much to the Muses for inviting me to be a guest today. It's a sunny Monday morning here in Michigan and I'm ALMOST caffienated enough to type coherently.

One of the best parts about being an e-published erotic romance author is, hands-down, the people I've met during the last three years. Who knew there were so many smart, friendly, generous, and wickedly funny women (and even a few men) out there who liked their romance HOT? I've met authors barely old enough to vote and I've met authors whose grandchildren were old enough to vote. Authors of all different sizes, shapes, colors, religions, and homelands. And yet, when we all come together, the only thing that seems to matter is our shared love for...well...love.

My previous professional background is in the sciences, so it's normal for me to look at things and make hypotheses. I do this without conscious effort. I'll just see a phenomenon and it will pop into my head that it's probably because of... So when I noticed how very many romance authors are unusually nice people, the next thought in my head was, well, I bet that's because we write about love. We're used to looking at emotions, studying them, and thinking about them, which might just make us a little more conscious of our own, don't you think?

Whether I'm right or wrong, I may never know, and of course there are always exceptions. But I do know that being in the company of other writers is one of my favorite treats. My next favorite group? Romance readers. And if you get both groups together, the party is bound to be a good one. And speaking of parties... I'll be at Romanticon in Ohio October 9-11, 2009. Would LOVE to meet any of you who can make it. Click here for more information. I'm very much looking forward to making new friends and catching up with old ones. If you get the chance to be there, be sure to come up and say hello!

If you want to contact me online, here are my links:

Website: http://www.cindyspencerpape.com

Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/cindyspencerpape

Newsletter Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/cspapenewsgroup/

Blog; http://cindyspencerpape.blogspot.com/

Now comes the shameless plug part of the blog: I'd like to mention two summer releases for your reading enjoyment. You can click on the covers for more information, and there are excerpts on the publisher's sites:

Exploring Ari

By Cindy Spencer Pape

Out now from Ellora’s Cave Exotika

ISBN: 9781419922947

http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-7375-50-exploring-ari.aspx

Blurb:

Ariana Stephanopoulos has led a fairly quiet life—especially for a vampire—until she meets sexy werewolf Jackson Marceski. The instant attraction between them is hotter than anything she’s ever experienced, so when Jack offers to help fulfill all her sexual fantasies, she just can’t tell him no. As Ari and Jack explore bondage, toys and even a ménage, Ari discovers the self-confidence she’s always lacked along with a passionate side that’s sure to keep her lover on his toes.

Wings of the Raven

Guardian Investigations Book #2

By Cindy Spencer Pape

Coming August 17, 2009

From Total-E-Bound

ISBN: 978-1-907010-73-6

Blurb:

Shape shifter Carys Maddox has butted heads with Will Lightfoot from the first day she joined Guardian Investigations. The sexy psychic is arrogant and pushy and drives her crazy, until the night they hook up after a wedding. Now the passion between them is as explosive as their tempers. When they are taken captive on a mission gone wrong, a pregnant Carys must risk everything to save them both and keep Will’s visions of death from coming true, and Will has to survive long enough to claim the love of a lifetime.

Thanks again to the Muses for having me here today, and I hope everyone has a wonderful week!

I missed the visit

2009-07-30T13:25:00.005-04:00

Cricket Starr blazed through here and I forgot to tell her how much I love her stuff. Have you guys read her Memories To Come? It's one of the best Married Life Short-length Smut out there.

I have been reading a lot of hot stuff again and am getting tired of the lack of emotional depth, so I'm always glad when there's romance with the heat...And when you can add something like long-term devotion AND believably keep the heat, that's almost next to impossible. They seem not to fit together easily. After all, smoldering passion is usually about the dangerous and unknown.

Starr is one of those people who can write it all and jam it into one short, little book.

Back from Comic Con!

2009-07-28T03:35:00.007-04:00

I got back yesterday from San Diego Comic Con - aka Nerd Heaven. For those of you who don't know what that is, it was originally a comic book convention that has mutated into a behemoth pop culture juggernaut. Sci fi, comic books, horror, gaming and collectibles are all featured and so are a lot of panels on upcoming movies and TV shows.

While I got sick Saturday night, I did get a look at some of the most tantalizing geek entertainment of the future. Avatar and Tron 2 look awesome and I can't wait to see Tim Burton's ultra-trippy Alice in Wonderland. LOST and True Blood, my favorite shows, had some cool hints for the future. (The best being Eric sex scenes in the latter.) But I also came away excited to see Zombieland and Sherlock Holmes... Both look really fun and campy in really different ways. I'm predicting Zombieland will be a surprise hit.

What wasn't so good: how few people seemed to be there for books. No matter how crowded the Exhibit Hall got, I always had plenty of room to manouver around the comic book and publishing booths and that was kind of depressing. So was the fact that some of my favorite writers were getting ignored. On the other hand, two of my non-reading friends decided to start reading the Twilight and Southern Vampire books based on their affection for the movie/show... so apparently new readers are out there. We just need to find ways to reach them.

Pushing those sexual boundaries

2009-07-27T08:21:00.003-04:00

One of the joys of reading is vicariously exploring experiences that you would otherwise never have. With erotica, this includes an imaginative taste of a sensual nature. It broadens our minds, our attitudes and our awareness of situations beyond our own reality. Kinda like walking a mile in another woman’s stilettos.

Erotica allows us to safely delve into areas of our own sexuality – to figure out what is appealing and maybe not so appealing to our senses without risk. It allows us to explore how we feel about kinkier sex before trying it. Does reading about tying up your partner and spanking him/her illicit a twinge of excitement or leave you flat? Does reading about anal sex make you fan your face and wonder if maybe you wouldn’t like to explore that with your partner? Erotic stories keep us in touch with our sexuality and our sense of adventure. It doesn’t mean you have to go out and try everything you read, because face it, many of the creative scenarios in stories are just that – creative. But they can help us push against our own sexual boundaries that we’ve allowed society to impose on us.

Writing sex scenes is hard. Damn hard. Keeping all that thrusting and those throbbing members from being trite, tacky or repetitively boring is always a challenge. Erotic authors utilize a great deal of creativity to keep the sex hot, exciting and seductive. Naturally, not everything you read has actually been pulled from a writer’s personal vault of experience. It is creative for a reason. But there is definitely something to be said for exploring what you write about. That doesn’t mean if you are going to write about a ménage, you have to run out and hook up with two guys… or two girls. Nor do you have to run out and find a vampire to tie you to Saint Andrew’s cross. Creative license is there for a reason. But there is a lot to be said for inputting actual experience in your writing. As writers, we should be pushing our own sexual boundaries (within reason) and allowing ourselves to explore those facets of sex and intimacy that fascinate us enough to write about it.

For example, writing about spanking purely from an imaginative point of view, based on other people’s experiences, is going to create limited results. Writing about spanking with actual experience to back it up is going to lend a more realistic point of view and open up a wider area of creative association to play with in writing. There is a difference in guessing what it feels like and writing about it, and knowing what it feels like and writing about it.

Western society still has us all tied up in taboo knots regarding sex. The “under the cover” attitude that sex is naughty, naughty still pervades our cultural attitudes. The growing popularity of erotic romances is helping to tear down those barriers, particularly for women. And it is about damn time. I’m looking forward to the day when I can tell someone I write erotica and NOT see their eyes get huge for a second.

So what are your thoughts? Agree or disagree with reading and writing erotica should push boundaries and help us explore our sexuality? Have you read something so freakin’ hot that you just HAD to try it for yourself?

A million thanks to Lisa Andel for inviting me back today. The picture here is of the kickass bootz she sent me earlier this year. Love the boots! Walking in them is more of a goofy experience than a sexy one, but I look damn great while tottering along. :P

I’ll be in and out all day and will respond to all comments. Doors close at 7pm EST tonight at which time I’ll do a random drawing from the comments. Winner will have a choice in their prize: Choice of any e-book from online publisher, a piece of art, or a $25 gift certificate for Amazon, B&N or Borders.

Web Site Story

2009-07-24T09:59:00.002-04:00

Okay, I wanted to simply embed this video, but its not from YouTube and doesn't have one of those embed codes. So here's the linke to College Humor.com's Web Site STory. Enjoy!
http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1913584

Taken Unaware, in print August First

2009-07-23T10:28:00.002-04:00

Is already available at Amazon.
Time flies faster in the summer, I guess.

Here's the blurb:

Leah's plans for the weekend didn't include dealing with an alien invasion in her kitchen. But there's something about the wary, vulnerable, refugee half-breed Gabriel that compels her to hide him when the authorities come knocking on her door. Gabriel has good reason to be suspicious of both humans and his own kind alike. He's a halfling-half human, half Dar-the product of a breeding program undertaken for one purpose. To use the offspring's inbred powers to influence humans on a deeply emotional level. So deep, they won't know until too late that the Dar have gained more than a toehold on Earth. Raised in subhuman conditions, all Gabriel knows of life is how to endure it. Then Leah opens his eyes to a life richer than any he's ever known. Suddenly he's not so sure he wants to be a pawn in the Dar's non-violent, but no less insidious, plans. Leah and Gabriel go on the run to seek help from the government, only to discover the invasion's tentacles have gotten there ahead of them. In the final confrontation, the bond Leah and Gabriel have forged may be more than an emotional haven. It could save her world. Warning: contains explicit sex, alien encounters

And here's the start of an explicit alien sex encounter:

He turned toward her. Her breath caught in her throat. This was going to happen. Shit, she’d make it on her own terms as much as she could. “You won’t have to tie me up.” She snorted. “I’m not in the mood but—”
He stopped her with his mouth gently pressed to hers. A few heartbeats later, the kiss deepened and she let it. God, she couldn’t stop herself from responding to the taste of him.
She pulled back and whispered, “I know it’s not a choice. But… Can you hold on for a minute? Please. Wait.”
He drew away at once, even removed his hands from her shoulders.
The kisses had befuddled her, left her head swimming, her blood pumping hard. She didn’t know what she wanted. She steadied her breath. “I suppose I can pretend we’re actual lovers.”
“We will be lovers,” he said calmly. “I’ve already decided. No matter what happens, you’re mine.”
She opened her mouth to tell him he was wrong, as well as an asshole, when he said, “Leah Parisi, I can feel that anger boiling in you. I said it wrong because I meant your existence, not you. There’re no words for it in your language. You are important to me.”
She forgot her indignation and gave a startled laugh. “What are you talking about? We don’t know each other.”
He stretched out on the bed on his back again and leaned on his elbows as he recited a list. “You are intriguing and exotic.” The very word she used when she thought of him. He went on, “You’re brave. You’re generous enough to feed a hungry stranger. You can think when you are enraged. And you are attracted to me as much as I am to you.”
“Hey, no, just a sec—”
“No,” he interrupted. He sat up again and for the first time his voice held a note of intensity. “Don’t lie because I can feel it and, more important, it’s a start. Give me something to believe in. I’ve lost anything else. For a long time I’ve had nothing, belonged to nothing. If the bond beyond sexual attraction is imaginary, please, remain silent. At least don’t take it away.”
“You mean some kind of symbol or talisman or something?”
He brushed two knuckles over her cheek. “Yes, good. That is as fine an explanation as any. A totem.”
“Heck, I could use something like that myself.” She nodded. “All right. I’ll pretend it was the way it was downstairs. Back when the world was relatively normal. I guess it can be an hour to forget.”
“An hour to remember,” he corrected her. “The rest we might wish to forget."
. . . . . .

“We’ll play it by ear,” she said. “We won’t let anyone else dictate what you and I do. Or—or don’t do.” She hoped he didn’t hear her ragged, uneven breath. Her mind might be filled with shock, horror and dismay. Her body was simply eager.
He reached for her but only rested his hands lightly on her shoulders again, fingertips caressing
“Am I ugly to you?” he whispered, sounding curious rather than worried.
She shook her head. “No. Not at all.”
“Good. I find you extremely attractive. You hair, your eyes.” He stared down at her mouth. “Your lips.” He slowly leaned in for a kiss—two soft, light brushes of the lips and then, with a shared groan, they sank to the bed.

Halbrut moved slowly, as he might if he were tracking a wild animal. But the hunger to touch her filled him and he soon pushed down the sheet covering her so he could stroke her back, and sweet round behind. She’d put her leg over his hip and he let his fingers slip between her legs. He gasped and pulled back. “You are so—so wet.”
“Um, yeah.” She tried to close her legs.
Halbrut understood she grew self-conscious. He should not have expressed his surprise, not with a human. “It’s lovely,” he said at once and hoped he could convey the wonder and attraction he felt.
Perhaps she sensed it because she squirmed closer, pressing herself against his erection. Astounding that he could feel her heat through the trousers he wore. Could he take off his clothes without causing her alarm? He longed for her naked skin to touch his but he did not want to startle her again. She might not like it. The humans were so prurient.
Ah, but he was soon startled to discover that the strange shyness about sexual events disappeared in private.
She reached for the buttons of his shirt and he quickly obliged by stripping off all his clothes. After a moment’s hesitation, he rolled onto his back so she would take the lead and he would not frighten her.
She sat up and examined him, her gaze moving up and down his body.
He stared back.
“You’re beautiful. I have wondered for hours what you looked like,” she said at last. He shouldn’t have cared, yet he was relieved. When he reached for her, she avoided his arms. So he used every scrap of self-control to place his hands flat on the bed and not touch her, as she explored his body with more than her eyes.
“It’s embarrassing how long I’ve wanted to touch and taste you,” she said in a low voice, as if he’d forced her to confess.
She kissed and lapped his skin with delicate touches of her mouth and he shivered as she nuzzled at the faint traces of hair on his belly and arms. Her fingers stroked his cock, squeezing. He closed his eyes, willing himself to not erupt in her hand. He had never been so excited. The dry touch of her hand reminded him of the more normal, quiet halfling lovemaking and allowed him to regain the familiar and welcome composure.
Until she licked his penis and put her mouth over the top of it.

Another Excerpt

2009-07-22T00:00:00.001-04:00

Remember the excerpt I posted a couple of weeks ago? I introduced Ethan and Sophia. Here's their first sex scene. Warning, the language in explicit.
His hand moved between them, and Sophia felt him grasp his cock. Up and down. Up and down. Slowly he slid the bulbous head along her slit, lubricating his cock with her juices.

“Now watch.” It was a guttural command, she couldn’t refuse. She wanted to watch. Wanted to see him become part of her.
Dropping her head onto his shoulder, she watched, captivated by the view. Absently, she noted his girth and became aware of her own delicacy. She shuddered again.

“Ready?” His voice was a husky rumble.

“Yes.” Digging her nail into his shoulder, she refused to look away. She wanted, needed, to see him enter her.

The tip of his cock again rested against her entrance. Pushing forward, he met with the slightest of resistance before her flesh gave in to the pressure and the head slipped in. Not stopping, he continued to press forward, forcing her muscles to part and give way to his presence.

“Tight. Your pussy is so tight. I could come just putting it into you.”

Ethan’s erotic words, washed over her. Whimpering again, half in pleasure half in pain, Sophia arched her back and pushed forward to meet him until he was seated to the hilt.

The movement seemed to snap Ethan’s control. Not giving her time to adjust, holding her in place he began to thrust. Slowly at first, until her muscles loosened, then picking up speed until his hips were hammering against hers.

Legs up, unable to move, she leaned back and put all of her weight on her arms. Throwing her head back, eyes closed, she concentrated on his thrust, the feel of him ramming forward and retreating. The delicious stretch and pull, give and take of his presence, had her gritting her teeth in agony and ecstasy.

“Oh Ethan. Yes. More. Don’t stop.” The words were ripped from her mouth. So close, she was so close.

“Come for me Sophia. Let me feel you come.” His grip tightened painfully, his hips pistoning furiously.

The orgasm ripped through her, the feelings so intense she cried out his name. Lights flashed before her eyes like fireworks. Her muscles tightened to the breaking point as tremors shook her. Ethan’s hoarse groan followed and his body jerked in release. Tensely, he stood over her, in her. Neither one of them capable of moving, of speaking. Their ragged pants filled the air.

As her breathing eased, she became aware of several discomforts. The edge of the counter was biting into her ass. Her legs were still up over his arms, and the muscles were beginning to pull. She grimaced slightly. A girl was much more limber during sex than after. He was still resting inside her, and even though he was softened, she felt bruised from the pounding he’d given her. Lifting a hand, she pressed against his shoulder.

“Let me down.” Her voice was weak, as weak as she felt.

Straightening his back, he let her legs slide down and free on his arms. Tucking his penis back into his jeans, he didn’t bother to zip up. Instead he helped her sit up, then stepped back so she could hop down. Her legs were wobbly, and he had to grab her elbow to keep her from falling.

2009-07-20T06:00:00.002-04:00

Open hearts and Nightwalker's Pet

The subject of this post is two-fold. To some extent it is about this new release I have, but mostly it is about the openness of writers’ hearts. Several months ago a long-time and much loved employee of the Jasmine Jade company lost her daughter in a horrifying accident. That was detailed here: Honoring Lara

To me Martha Punches has always been part of the heart of Ellora’s Cave. Martha was the one we got our author copies from, and the person to whom we sent the short stories we submitted for the Ellora’s Cavemen anthologies. It is known that email can be an emotionless means of communication but somehow her messages were always warm. It was like you could hear her smile when she wrote you to congratulate you on a new release. I have a daughter myself, a few years older, and to hear how hers died was heartbreaking.

It was not surprising that many authors felt like I did and with our publisher’s help we put together a fund-raiser to help the Punches with their expenses. Lara had wanted to be a vet so many of the stories are animal-related, including mine with my heroine wanting a dog and ending up with a shapeshifter instead.

I haven’t used animals before in my Parafolk stories so Lara really was the inspiration for having a vampire heroine who just wants a dog and is delighted when one follows her home. Well, actually he jumped into her car and he wasn’t a real dog, but a shapeshifter in wolf form. But I had a lot of fun coming up with dog and pet references, including my personal favorite when the hero Ronald tells Andrea he wants to be her dog...”with benefits”. Even though she has fangs and he has fur, Andrea and Ronald have a lot of fun with the sexual games that parafolks play.

NIghtwalker's Pet has already had two great reviews from Night Owl Romance and Romance Junkies.

The short story Nightwalker’s Pet is available at Ellora's Cave.

Cougars on the Prowl

2009-07-17T06:00:00.000-04:00

Prime Passions, an anthology about older women and the younger men who fall for them, is available now at Liquid Silver Books.

When love reaches its prime, there’s no resisting the passion.

Sexual heat can’t be denied in this trio of tales about older women and the younger men who fall for them. In “Moving On” by Bonnie Dee a widow is seduced by a hot young moving guy and opens herself to the possibilities of life once more. When a repressed divorcee places an online sex ad in Veronica Wilde’s “No Strings Attached,” the young man who answers it unlocks her heart as well as her fantasies. In Vivien Dean’s “A Spark of Snow,” a burned out cop rediscovers more than her love for life when a gorgeous young teacher shows her passion doesn’t care about age.

Three women with experience to spare, three hot men with passionate hearts, three unforgettable stories of rebirth and second chance love.

No Strings Attached by Veronica Wilde:
Raised in a stifling religious environment, placing an online sex ad is something Corey Jamison never thought she’d do. But getting divorced has left her eager to explore her fantasies, particularly those kinky ones she’d be too embarrassed to tell a serious boyfriend. Finding a non-judgmental stranger to dominate her sounds like the perfect solution.

At twenty-six, Donovan Halloran is too young and too good-looking to take seriously. Naturally dominant, he seems like the perfect candidate to help her live out her secret desires. But their erotic adventures lead both of them into dangerous emotional territory--and soon Corey finds that Donovan has claimed her heart along with her body.

Moving On by Bonnie Dee:

Recently widowed, Camilla is moving to a new apartment, leaving her home of seventeen years to begin life as a single woman once more. She shares a moment of connection with Ryan, a handsome young moving man, which leads to an unexpected passionate encounter. In one erotically charged evening, everything changes and Camilla awakens to new possibilities in her life.

A Spark of Snow by Vivien Dean:

After fifteen years as a cop in LA’s Juvenile Division, Rachel Foley is burned out. Quitting doesn’t feel like a real option, so she takes a leave of absence to travel across the country and visit her sister. White Bluff, Illinois is a far cry from the urban lifestyle Rachel’s accustomed to, but a few weeks with family seems to be the break she’s looking for. All she wants is time to regroup. A gorgeous twenty-four year-old with a killer smile and a body too distracting for its own good should not be on her agenda. Even if that’s the only place he would like to be...

Here's an excerpt from Moving On:

“Carpe diem. Isn’t there some poem about that?” He finished his wine and put his glass on the end table.

“‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day, to-morrow will be dying.’ Robert Herrick.” She leaned against the back of the couch, her eyes half closed, a pleasant buzz from the wine making her drowsy.

“Wise man.” Ryan reached over and traced her ear with his fingertip, a light touch around the curve to the lobe, only that, but it sent fire burning through her.

Camilla opened her eyes and turned her face toward him. He was so damn beautiful. She loved his long, thick, sandy hair and the way it fell messily across his forehead. Back when she’d been dating, stiffly gelled spikes had been in style. Running a hand through hair as crisp as cornflakes hadn’t exactly been a turn-on. She imagined Ryan’s hair would feel soft and smooth between her fingers.

He slid his hand down the bare length of her arm from shoulder to wrist, making her glad she’d put on a tank top after her shower. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh as if touched by a cool breeze. When his large, warm hand curved around hers, she spread her fingers apart so they could lace together with his.

They stayed like that while time stretched as taut as a rubber band close to snapping, the air between them vibrating with possibilities. Camilla pictured them there--two people sitting side by side in a quiet living room holding hands. She felt the heat of his body close to hers, heard his soft breathing, and at the same time, watched from a distance as the woman leaned toward the man and kissed him.

He tasted of sweet wine and tangy spices. His mouth was soft, lips yielding to the pressure of her kiss. He cupped the back of her neck, holding her as he kissed her harder. She welcomed his tongue as it teased delicately between her lips. How strange it was, two tongues coiling around one another in a sinuous dance. Like a key in a lock, it opened her and made her want more.

Ryan pulled her closer. She swooned against his body like a fainting damsel and slid her arms around his back. His muscles were so hard and his flesh so hot that the insides of her arms tingled at the contact. It seemed like forever since she’d been held like this. His strength flowed into her, wrapping around her and supporting her, making her want to cry with the pleasure of leaning into him.

He cradled her face in his palm while his other hand roamed down her back. He paused at her tailbone just above the swell of her ass and she wanted him to go farther, grab her butt and knead her cheeks hard.

They kissed and kissed, small, tender nibbles followed by a hungry mashing together of lips and tongue, deep, desperate, powerful. When Ryan finally abandoned her mouth to kiss her cheek, her jaw and her neck, Camilla’s lips were swollen and tingling. She’d forgotten the simple pleasure of making out for leisurely stretches of time. Her body felt both relaxed and open, and tense with need.

As Ryan slid his hand beneath her shirt and cupped her breast, she shifted. Her nipple was pebbled hard and eager for his touch, but she was nervous at the intimacy. Fondling her tit was the next step. Kissing, touching, then sex, which she craved and feared in equal parts.

He stopped nuzzling her shoulder and looked at her. “Okay?”

She bit her lip. “It’s been a while, that’s all.”

“Of course. Your husband was sick.”

“It was a while even before that. We weren’t...close physically any more. Not often anyway.” She hesitated over the words, embarrassed to admit such a private detail about her married life to this stranger. She couldn’t quite pinpoint when the passion had gone, but it was well before Sam got sick.

Ryan nodded but remained silent. She was glad of that. Instead, he returned to sliding his lips over the curve of her shoulder and placing a necklace of kisses along the neckline of her shirt. Beneath her shirt, his thumb rubbed her nipple, teasing it to hardness through her bra cup. Her breasts felt tender and swollen as he fondled one, then the other. She pushed into his hand, wanting her clothes to magically disappear so she could feel his touch all over her.

As if gauging her readiness, he reached for the hem of her shirt, pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. He bent to press his mouth to her cleavage. The sight of his tawny hair and the slice of his profile against her breast was almost as exciting as the sensation of his mouth closing over her nipple and sucking it through the sheer material of her bra.

Camilla combed her hands through his hair, as silky as she’d imagined, and cradled his head. The tugging at her nipple sent a lightning bolt of pleasure crackling from her breast down to her crotch. When he blew across the dampened fabric, her nipple tightened ever harder. She moaned and her eyes half closed.

Ryan straightened. In one swift move, he peeled off his shirt exposing the chiseled muscles she’d only felt until now. His body was gorgeous, taut and toned. Youthful. It embarrassed her to reveal her own middle-aged body, still kept in shape by workouts, but inevitably sagging in places.

But if Ryan found her anything less than desirable, it didn’t show in his hungry eyes, darkened with lust. Releasing the clasp on her bra, he freed her breasts. He caressed one then the other before he returned to suckling them.

Camilla quickly forgot any qualms about her body as she arched into his hands and mouth. She gripped his shoulders and rubbed her hands down his broad back, feeling the smooth skin and the bumps of his vertebrae. She wanted to touch him everywhere, to feel his skin gliding over hers, his heavy body pinning her down and his cock filling her. Excitement mounted inside her. She wouldn’t turn back now even if she could. She wanted him. She wanted everything she’d denied needing for so long. Her body felt like it was growing and expanding, stretching as if she was a woman waking from a deep slumber.

One of Ryan’s hands glided down her stomach and unfastened the button on her jeans. She sucked in a breath as he reached inside and touched her. He cupped her mound protectively in his palm for a moment, then teased his fingers beneath the elastic of her underwear and traced the lip of her labia.

Camilla whimpered and her thigh muscles clenched. This was happening now--a stranger’s hand on her pussy. It had been so long since any man but Sam had touched her there.

Once more Ryan intuited her anxiety and stopped. He released her reddened nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and met her gaze.

“It’s all right if you don’t want to do this.”

“No. I do. Don’t stop.” Her voice sounded as low and rasping as a smoker’s.

He grinned and those charming dimples flashed, sending a stab of heat through her. Her body felt like flame, burning, yearning, sizzling. She reached to push her jeans down her hips, then lifted her ass off the couch as he pulled them off her.

When she was stripped bare, Ryan quickly peeled his jeans down his long, long legs, kicking off his shoes, tearing off his socks, standing by the sofa with his cock standing straight out from his body.

Camilla felt every coarse fiber of fabric tickling her backside and realized she’d never been naked on this couch. She and Sam had tended to confine sex to the bedroom, so this was new for the poor old couch as well as for her. She reclined against the cushions, feigning a relaxation she didn’t feel, and stared at Ryan’s engorged cock, straight and thick and flushed dark from the blood rushing through the raised veins. It trembled slightly like a divining rod reaching for water, and he gave a small hungry sound. Her stomach fluttered.

He examined Camilla with equal interest, his hooded eyes scanning her body before focusing on her sex. When he lowered himself over her, she caught her breath. He kissed her stomach, her hip bone, her thigh and all around her pussy in a tightening noose of licks and nibbles. Her anticipation built as he moved closer to his target, and her flesh quivered at the warm puff of his breath against her sex. His mouth nuzzled near the neat triangle of hair she’d trimmed earlier with fantasies like this in mind. When he finally touched her clit, she jerked at the mere brush of his lips.

Camilla closed her eyes and she gasped. Ryan chuckled, and the vibration against her pussy was a subtle torture. Her body was hypersensitive to his slightest touch, primed by all the kissing and fondling and by the outrageous fact of having sex with a stranger. She felt a tense vibration thrumming through her as if she’d had a jolt of too much caffeine.

Hi from DC where it's not erotic

2009-07-16T10:47:00.002-04:00

I'm at the RWA conference and so far, I've hugged lots of people I've known for years and never met. I just came back from a rogue session about epublishing and it was impressive!

Now I'm going to go down and mingle with fellow conferencees. Maybe I'll get to eavesdrop on some great conversations about how to write oral sex. The best eavesdropping I've ever managed has been at one of these shindigs.

Anal Sex

2009-07-14T23:26:00.003-04:00

Anal sex. It's not the taboo it used to be. It seems to have made its way into the erotic romance novel. I'm not complaining. The first four books I wrote had anal sex scenes.

What drives me crazy are the scenes that have then going at it without an prep or any lube. Anytime I read a scene that has the heroine going at it for the first time with no prep time and no lube I kinda lose interest. All I can think is...OUCH!

So...I did a little net searching and came up with some helpful sites.

Clitical's 10 Things You Should Know About Anal Sex
Freddy and Eddy's How to Enjoy Anal Sex
eHow's How to Have Anal Sex

Anyone else got a sex pet peeve?

PRIME PASSIONS is out!

2009-07-14T01:00:00.000-04:00

PRIME PASSIONS is finally out! This anthology features 3 exciting stories about - as you've probably guessed - older women in the prime of life and the younger hotties who want them. Bonnie Dee's Moving On and Vivien Dean's A Spark of Snow are two of the stories and they're both pretty awesome. The third is mine, No Strings Attached. Blurb below!

Raised in a stifling religious environment, placing an online sex ad is something
Corey Jamison never thought she’d do. But getting divorced has left her eager to explore
her fantasies, particularly those kinky ones she’d be too embarrassed to tell a serious
boyfriend. Finding a non-judgmental stranger to dominate her sounds like the perfect
solution.

At twenty-six, Donovan Halloran is too young and too good-looking to take
seriously. Naturally dominant, he seems like the perfect candidate to help her live out her
secret desires. But their erotic adventures lead both of them into dangerous emotional
territory—and soon Corey finds that Donovan has claimed her heart along with her body.

This really is one steamy anthology and it's for anyone who's ever had an "inappropriate" love -- not just for the Mrs. Robinson set. :) You can find it here.

More Thief and Flower

2009-07-10T06:00:00.000-04:00

Because this book really is a heap of fun, I have to post another excerpt today from The Thief and the Desert Flower.

Princess Chala is facing an arranged marriage to a man she’s never met. When her caravan is attacked in the desert and she’s kidnapped by the nomad leader, she thinks only of escape—at first. But the charming rogue, Kyo is set on seducing her until she freely gives him what he’s craved from the moment he saw her. The fiery-tempered princess and the unscrupulous scoundrel engage in a battle of the sexes.

Lust slowly turns to love as they share details of their lives and realize they have more common ground than expected. But Chala’s powerful bridegroom, Brachas isn’t about to let a merger between two kingdoms dissolve without a fight. His soldiers find and reclaim the princess, who now has an agenda of her own.

Can a clever princess and her determined lover save a desert people, bring a despot to justice and find a future together in a world of their choosing?

Excerpt (R-rated):

Looking down into her eyes, he rested his hands lightly on her shoulders and studied her intently, as he searched for words in Genderese. “I not do a thing…anything that hurt you. Only what you want.”

What she wanted? Chala was ashamed to admit to her primitive urges and how those three simple words made her yearn for forbidden things. Her resolve to continue resisting crumbled like sand and she let him draw her down onto the bed. I’ll let him kiss me a little. That’s all, just a few kisses. When they rescue me, no one ever needs to know I allowed it.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her snug against his chest. The heat of his skin burned through her shirt, and his muscle and bone were hard and unyielding. The contrast with her soft body was exciting. The young nobleman who’d once kissed her in the garden hadn’t felt this strong and masculine when she’d gripped his satin-clad back. Kyo’s flesh was like satin itself beneath her stroking hands, but he was living, breathing, warm, and smelled of sweat and spice instead of expensive cologne.

She straddled his lap, staring boldly at him and waiting for the kiss she knew was coming. His black eyes held her as surely as his hands, but he waited, too, and Chala realized he was keeping his word, offering no more than what she chose to accept. The first move was to be hers this time. He’d allow her no illusions that he was forcing her to do anything.

Breath held and heart racing, she leaned slowly toward him, focusing on his mouth. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. Chala closed her eyes and touched her lips to his. His mouth was warm, soft, yielding, but he wouldn’t lead, giving her the freedom to explore. She used her tongue, as he had earlier, to gently part his lips and slip inside. She was kissing him! Touching and tasting his essence with her lips and tongue.

She lifted her hands to hold his face, the jawbone hard and cheeks soft between her palms, then she slid her hands down to his neck where corded tendons flexed. Strands of his long hair tickled her wrists and she grasped handfuls of it to feel the texture: thick, heavy, soft, yet gritty with sand.

Chala cupped the back of his neck and angled her head to kiss him deeper. Her tongue circled around his, wet, slippery, sensual. He gave a soft growl that made the hair on her nape stand up. As she leaned into him, he collapsed back onto the cushions, pulling her down on top of his solid body. She planted a knee on either side of his hips, and felt the bulge of his erection pressed firm against her crotch.

He slid his hands up the length of her spine, gathering the loose fabric of the shirt beneath his palms. Cool air brushed her naked back as he bunched the shirt around her shoulders. Did she want him to take it off? She imagined her breasts bared to his view or pressed against his chest. The idea frightened and thrilled her. She should stop now before this went any further, but, untangling her fingers from his hair, she raised her arms, allowing Kyo to remove the shirt.

He yanked it over her head and tossed it away then held her rib cage in both hands, keeping her upright. She started to cover her breasts with her arms, but he made a protesting sound and she dropped them to her sides. His eyes sparked like burning embers as he gazed at her breasts. His lips, glistening from her kisses, parted.

Chala traced his lower lip with her finger. He submitted to her touch for a moment then, like a cat snapping up a mouse, he seized her fingertip between his teeth. His eyes never broke their focus on her chest as he sucked her finger into heat and wetness.

Her nipples were as hard as pebbles, her breasts flushed and aching for him to suckle them like he was sucking on her finger. She moaned softly at the erotic sensation of his tongue laving her finger. She’d never felt such excitement and exhilaration. This was passion, the magnetism between men and women she’d only heard of before. For the first time, Chala understood the difference between lust and love. The pleasure Kyo incited in her body was earthy, primitive, animalistic. The great love minstrels sang about and that inspired legendary heroes was ethereal, spiritual, a taste of the divine.

Tonight, she’d settle for lust. She wouldn’t think about the future and what might happen if her bridegroom realized she was no longer a virgin. She could always say she’d been forced—or arrange it so he never guessed. But for tonight, she would give in to her body’s needs.

Kyo released her finger with a wet pop and latched his open mouth onto her breast while gently grasping the other tit. She whimpered at the warmth of his sucking mouth and his fingers rolling her nipple. Lightning crackled from her nipples to her sex. Although she’d sometimes touched her breasts in the privacy of her room, she’d never imagined a sensation like this. She thrust her chest toward him, begging for more.

The sight of Kyo’s tan hand covering her breast, slashes of pale skin showing between long, brown fingers, made her throat go dry. But the view of his lips stretched around her nipple, his sharp-angled face in profile, sooty lashes in perfect crescents against his cheeks, was even more electrifying. He looked dark and dangerous, like he might devour her. She should fear him, but between her legs, wetness pooled and her sex throbbed. A fluttering like a flock of birds gathered deep inside her.

With a grunt, Kyo broke away from her, releasing her breasts from his mouth and hand. He looked up into her face with frightening black eyes. “Shinjate! Mi grajia kano,” he groaned. “Mi tyokianna ti.” The sheer hunger in his tone made it clear he wanted her desperately. His hands stroked up her thighs and hips to the waistband of her underpants. He eased them down her hips, and she let him uncover the tangle of dark hair marking her sex.

He teased a finger through the curls, fluffing them, and her pussy vibrated like a cat purring. Then he touched his fingertip to the little nub at the apex of her folds and she gasped as lightning shot through her again. He flicked and teased at the bud, making her want more and more without being quite sure what more was. Poised at the brink of the unknown, one more whisk of his fingertip would put her over the edge.

Kyo muttered something that sounded like a curse, but then most of his language did. Suddenly he surged up, tumbling Chala to her back and kneeling over her. He pulled her underwear down her legs and tossed it aside.

She glanced at the enormous bulge in the front of his briefs. The fluttering bird wings of anticipation inside her beat faster, beginning to feel a lot like fear. The control she’d felt while straddling him vanished. He loomed over her now and the power was in his hands. She couldn’t match him physically if she struggled. He’d pin her down and do whatever he wanted. The notion filled her with mingled dread and eagerness. What was the matter with her that she was excited by the situation?

He continued to wait, poised over her on hands and knees. Chala stroked her hands up his chest to his shoulders as smooth and hard as polished wood, and back down toward his abdomen. His stomach twitched as her fingernails skimmed over it, and he sucked in a quick breath when she reached the edge of his low-riding shorts. She drew them down his blade-sharp hips. His erection bobbed free, slapping thick and heavy against her stomach. She touched the warm, solid length and found the skin covering it was as soft as a kid glove.

Chala swallowed, hardly able to believe she was doing such a thing. She glanced at Kyo’s face. His eyes were nearly closed, the thick lashes shielding them from her. His mouth was slack and a low groan came from him as she dared to encircle the shaft with her thumb and forefinger. That reverberation in his throat gave her a renewed feeling of control. She may lie prone beneath him, but she had the power to hold his cock in her hand and make him gasp and tremble.

Kyo leaned down to kiss her mouth, jaw and neck, nuzzling her until she laughed and wiggled. He licked her collarbones and rubbed his cheek against her breasts before sucking on her nipples again.

Chala’s hand was trapped between their bodies and she had to abandon her stroking. Instead, she wrapped both arms around him and slid her hands down his back to cup his tight ass. Between her legs, his cock nudged at her entrance. Even though she’d known this was where they were headed, the idea of having his body enter hers was still a shock. How could that thick knob possibly fit inside her? And the length…? She bit her lip and held very still.

Kyo stopped suckling her tit to look into her eyes, his eyebrow cocked. “All right?”

She nodded once. This was the point where she should be clamping her legs together and pushing him away. Hadn’t she sworn she’d only allow a little kissing?

He looked down to where their bodies joined and guided his cock to her. Chala gazed at the top of his shaggy hair. It was many lengths as if he occasionally hacked parts off with a knife. The girth of his penis entered her. She tensed as her body stretched around the intrusion of his cock.

Kyo smiled at her, white teeth flashing and his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ti claisseh.”

She knew from his tone that the hissing word was meant to be a reassurance. Calm yourself. But his smile still looked wolfish to her—like in the child’s tale of Reina, when the wolf tells the little girl to trust him just before devouring her.

An Article about Sex

2009-07-09T08:21:00.003-04:00

So what do you know? We women can walk around in a state of semi-arousal and not even know it. Here's part of the article:

One of the most intriguing research nuggets to emerge: While male sexuality is fairly predictable—they tend to be aroused by naked women and naked women hooking up with other naked women—female sexuality is stimulated by a surprisingly wide array of turn-ons. Meredith Chivers, Ph. D., an assistant professor of psychology at Queens University in Kingston, Ontario, calls this "the nonspecificity of women's sexual arousal." Chivers created a buzz with a study in which she showed both men and women a variety of sexually explicit images—nude male and female bodies, heterosexual and homosexual sex, and sex between bonobos (a particularly frisky species of ape)—while measuring physiological signs of genital arousal as well as their subjective feelings of desire.

For the guys, the findings were straightforward enough: The straight men in the study were physically aroused by women, gay men were aroused by men, and neither group felt any stirrings for the apes. The men's physical reactions (erections) were in agreement with what they reported being turned on by.

The women in the study, on the other hand, didn't react as predictably. While they reported feeling aroused in the ways you might expect (straight women were turned on by men, lesbians by women), measurements of their vaginal blood flow showed that they were physically aroused by all the forms of coupling they saw—even the bonobos. Still, when asked after viewing them to report which images they found titillating, most of them chose only those which matched up with their sexual orientation. Were they lying?

Not exactly. The women in Chivers's study were aroused by all the images—but that doesn't mean they desired to have sex with the people (or animals) they saw. "Women have the capacity to get turned on by a broad range of things," she says. "This is normal and not necessarily a challenge to sexual identity."

Read the rest here.

Excerpt

2009-07-08T03:04:00.003-04:00

So here's an excerpt of the next story I'm sending to LSB. It's their first scene together. He dumped her six months prior to this scene.

Floodlights lit up the yard and house, giving it a warm, welcoming glow. Loud, thumping music, with an undertone of laughing and talking, drifted in the air. Peering over the fence, Sophia saw a group of bathing-suit clad guys around a large gas grill, arguing good naturedly. Other small groups of men and women were spread out through the backyard.

She should be in there instead of hiding in the shadows that surrounded the backyard. Standing on the outside, looking in. It wasn’t something she was used to doing. Friendly, good-natured with an easygoing, affectionate personality, she didn’t lack for friendship. But here she was. Sounds of Jami clucking filtered through her mind.

Biting her lip, she scanned the yard.

“Damn,” she whispered. Jami wasn’t here yet. Stepping back into the shadows, she chewed on her thumbnail as she contemplated going back to her car and waiting for her friend.

Yet, she didn’t move. She had to know. Unable to resist, heart pounding with trepidation, she peeped over the fence again, looking this time for Ethan. Was she going to have to face him? And if so, was he alone or did he have a date?
Gnawing her lower lip she scanned the crowd.

Please don’t’ be here. Please don’t be here.

She slumped back against the fence. Eyes closed, her blood pounded in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the party going on a few feet away. Strangely, disappointment rather than relief washed over her. After gearing herself to see him, to talk to him, to watch him with a date, the knowledge that he wasn’t there was a let down. It felt as if she’d crashed after riding an intense wave of adrenaline.

She was embarrassed. Damn it. Was she going to hide the rest of her life because she’d gotten her heart broken? No. What was she, a woman or a chicken? The sounds of Jami’s clucks echoed in her mind, and she stiffened her spine. She WAS not a chicken and she refused to hide in the shadows any longer. Putting her hand on the latch, opened the gate to let herself into the backyard.

Gravel crunched behind her. Pasting a smile on her lips, she turned to see who it was. Maybe it was Jami. Chicken or not, she really didn’t want to walk in alone. Her smile froze. Her heart stuttered before it began a mad gallop in her chest. Every bit of the pep talk she’d just given herself fell to the wayside. The urge to run, to hide, overwhelmed her. Yet she did nothing, freezing like a rabbit with a hawk circling overhead.

Ethan moved toward her, stalking her as if she were prey. He didn’t stop until his chest was within inches of hers. His heat, his intensity swept over her. She shuddered whether in fear or lust she couldn’t tell. His cologne, subtle, clean and crisp, overwhelmed her, awakening other senses and tactile memories. Her nipples tightened and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

Her gaze level with his neck, she studied his throat, absently noting his rapid pulse. Could he be nervous? The thought intrigued her.

She clenched her hands into fists so that she wouldn’t reach out, touch him, placate the strong emotions he felt. Her mind fought her heart. She either needed to slay him with words or kiss him. Pride won, she did neither.

Reluctantly, unable to resist the pull of his gaze, she looked up. Her eyes met his in the dim light. His face was cast in shadows. She didn’t need any light to know that his chestnut hair would be a little too long and beginning to curl around his face and collar. Or that his dark eyes would have a sexy smolder. She knew every rugged inch of that face. Every silken lock of hair on his hard head.

Licking her lips, she spoke first.

“Ethan.” Her voice lacked its customary lilt, but she’d at least gotten the words out past the choking lump in her throat.

“Sophia. I’m happy to see you here. You’re a hard woman to get a hold of.”
His voice washed over her. The timbre, deep and sexy, was whiskey smooth and just as intoxicating. Even after six months of silence, the sound still had the ability to thrill her, send tingles of excitement racing through her.

Fighting its effect, she managed a small careless shrug. “I’ve been busy.”

“Really?” Even as he nodded his acceptance of her excuse, his tone said she lied.

“Work’s been hectic.”

“Too hectic to return my phone calls? Too busy to call and let me know you got the flowers?”

Her neck flushed with embarrassment.

He hadn’t sent the flowers until she had refused to return his calls. No doubt he’d thought that good manners would have her calling him. Good manners be damned. She hadn’t called. “Yeah, I-“

“You’re avoiding me.”

No shit, Sherlock. She’d made a point of not being available to him since he’d dumped her. What was he thinking? That she would fall back into being his buddy?

“No. No, that’s not it at all. I didn’t return your calls because as far as I am concerned we have nothing to say to one another.” Calm, cool, impersonal. Wow, she was impressing herself.

Leaning forward, he planted a hand on the fence beside her head. Sophia’s heart jumped into her throat. Suddenly her self control was shaky. If he leaned any closer, it would shatter like the thin façade it was.

“I think we do. I think there are a lot of things we need to say.” His warm breath brushed her cheek. She swallowed a moan. The flesh between her thighs warmed. His voice could still make her cream. “Things I need to say. That you need to hear. ”

She needed to hear? She snapped out of her lust-induced trance. Well, too damn bad. The thought floated across her mind. He had plenty of fucking time to talk to her six months ago, when she still wanted to talk.

“Ethan, I don’t want to have this conversation with you. I came here to talk and laugh with friends, not rehash old business.” This was exactly one of the many reasons she’d wanted to skip this party! Damn Jami and her clucking!

“Old business? Is that how you see us?” He tilted his head, his eyes studying her face.

Bad word choice on his part. Trepidation and nerves were replaced by a healthy dose of anger. Us. US! As if they had ever been anywhere close to that. She had thought of them as us, as a couple. Yep, she’d thought that right up until he’d dropped her like a fucking rock.

Then, last week out of the blue, he’d left a message on her answering machine. And again a few days later. She hadn’t returned his calls. A dozen peach colored roses had followed. The card simply stating, Call me.

As if. She’d done all her calling months ago. When he’d first pulled his disappearing act, she’d tried to call him, left messages on his answering machine at home and with his secretary at his office. When she’d tried his cell phone, she been automatically directed to his voice mail. She’d left messages there too. All she got had been silence. Nothing. That had cut her to the bone. Slow she might be, but stupid she wasn’t. She’d finally gotten the message and hadn’t called him again.

“Us? Us? There is no us. There never was an us. We went out on a few dates, had a few laughs. That doesn’t make us an item!” She could feel the threat of tears. Sophia stopped and forced herself to breathe, afraid that if she continued she’d start screaming like a banshee. The music from the pool party was drowning her out now. Before too much longer, that wouldn’t be the case. When upset or angry inevitably her voice would grow louder and louder, and then, as her mother like to say, the waterworks would begin.

Instead of replying, Ethan cupped the back of her head, and fisting her hair in one of his hands, pulled her forward to cover her mouth with his. The action was so quick, so unexpected, she didn’t have time to prepare, time to protect herself.
Shock and outrage kept her stiff - - for a couple of seconds. Thoughts of stopping him, pulling away, biting him, slapping him disappeared under the slick glide of his tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him to her. His taste, sweet and spicy, flooded her senses. It was like offering water to a woman dying of thirst.

The kiss was rough, violent, hard and full of frustration and pent up desire. Slanting his head, Ethan nipped her lower lip, demanding entrance. She gave it to him, opening her mouth and welcoming the thrust of his tongue.

Letting go of his neck, she locked her hands in his hair as their tongues dueled. She held tightly to him. Wanting, needing, more. More. Her fingers twisted in his hair, locking him to her and returned his kiss with bruising force.

Tearing his mouth away from hers, he scattered kisses across her face and down her throat. His lips were a hot brand along her skin, leaving a burning imprint in their wake. He found her pulse and lightly bit down on the throbbing vein. It stung. It aroused. Her pussy tingled and moistened. Squeezing her thighs together against the erotic pain, she moaned as the passion between them escalated.

“I missed you.” His words were muffled. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. Didn’t care in the heat of the moment. All she wanted was another taste. Dipping her head down, she caught his ear lobe between her teeth in a gentle grip.

The hand at the back of her head tightened. Using his hold in her hair, he pulled her head back. “Sophia, look at me.” She opened her eyes with some difficulty. Her lids felt weighted. Her vision blurred.

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered, his tone husky with passion. His face was tight with desire.

It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. It would be so easy to follow. To simply let go and go home with him. To give in to her desire.

A slight breeze wafted in night air and cool on her hot skin. The haze of desire dissipated from Sophia’s mind. Her gaze cleared enough to meet his smoldering stare.

“No.” Dropping her arms from around his neck, she turned her head in a silent demand that he loosened his hold of her hair. Instead, he tightened it. His determined look bore into her.

The need to put some distance between them clawed at her. Tonight had shown her just how weak she was. One kiss and she was clinging to him like a vine. One small taste ans she was ready to spread her legs for him, the last six months forgotten the heat of desire. Damn, she needed to stay away from this man. She was bad news for her self-control, worse for her heart. Wedging her arms between them, she pushed against the rock solid surface of his chest. He didn’t so much as budge.

“Let. Me. Go.” She spoke through clenched teeth, narrowing her eyes she matched his steely gaze with one of her own.

A heart beat in time. Then another. For a moment she didn’t think he was going to do it. He loosened his grip, and Sophia slipped from his arms. Taking a step back, she crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” The statement was for her as much as for him. If he kissed her like that again, she wasn’t sure her willpower would hold out.

“Why not?” He looked baffled.

No doubt he thought she was crazy not to go home and fall into his bed. She half agreed with him. Maybe a night in his bed would exorcise him from her mind, her heart. Get him out of her system if not her heart. She was tempted… for a millisecond.

“Just because you want something doesn’t mean it’s good for you or that you should have it. I’m not the one with the motto ‘if it feels good do it’. Nor go I follow the old saying easy come easy go. Pun intended. That would be you.”

His face seem to pale, but she couldn’t be sure, it could be the shadows. A paled expression would suggest some sort of feelings that was more than lust. Feelings she knew damn well he didn’t have.

Sophia tightened her jaw and straightened her spine. Waiting for his next words. He stared at her in silence. Hmm. He had none. What a surprise. That was it, then.

Stepping past him, she walked calmly to her car. She didn’t look back to see if he watched her. Didn’t need to. She could feel him watching her.
At least this time she was the one walking away.

Review of CHERI

2009-07-07T10:29:00.004-04:00

So Colette is one of my favorite writers and Cheri - and The Last of Cheri - is one of my favorite novels. If you haven't read them, the two are a beautiful meditation on love, age differences and aging in a changing world. Lea is a beautiful fortyish courtesan who "takes in" the 19 year old hottie son of her friend. The intended fling turns into a six year love affair that is ended when Cheri must marry, and the books explore their struggles in learning to live without each other.

I was so excited for the movie to come out - it's by the same director who did Dangerous Liaisons but he didn't work his magic here. The whole movie is woefully miscast, especially the title role which is played by Rupert Friend. He's too wispy and foppish to embody the character, who was a lusty, impudent sex devil in the novels, and he has no real chemistry with Michelle Pfeiffer. She is lovely, as always, but also seems too fragile and cool to really be taken with her boy. Nor does she even really turn into "an old woman" as Lea does in the book. If you're going to have a 20something guy with a 51 year old woman, you need to make it convincing and these two did not.

That said, the movie was gorgeous to look at, full of lush gardens and belle epoque mansions and some truly beautiful clothes. I just wish the director had spent more time getting the characters right.