Geez, I hate following Dakota when she does that! I have hot men -- really hot men -- but unfortunately one of them is a ghost! Here's a preview of "Twelfth of Never" --
*******
Author Zoe Shepard races away from an unfaithful lover in the States only to fall into the arms of a spirit in Ireland. While she has no intention of allowing another faithless male in her life, she doesn’t mind this particular man because he demands nothing and night after night he gives her incredible climaxes. It isn’t until the full moon that Zoë actually meets Keegan McFallon, knight and lord of clan McFallon, in human form. Because of a sorceress’s spell, he’s doomed to remain in the spirit world, except on the nights of new and full moons, until he has an orgasm on the Twelfth of Never. Unfortunately, that is a riddle he cannot seem to solve. Keegan, with his long blonde hair, broad shoulders, and constant hard-on, is so much better in the flesh than in spirit form that Zoë sets about trying to discover how to release him from the sorceress’s spell.
*******
Warm breath caressed her bare stomach and Zoë kicked off the sheet to better feel the exquisite touch. Seconds passed and she held her breath, wanting more.
His touch continued across her stomach and then upward, licking the underside of one breast before sucking her nipple into his mouth. The aftershocks of her climax continued as he milked her, first one breast then the other, her entire body tingling as though a thousand feathers touched every inch of her skin. There was no weight against her chest, no hard muscles pressing her hips down into the bed. Only the constant, lingering touch, as light as the breeze from the window, but igniting her need and feeding her hunger. His fingers pinched her nipples, the pleasure/pain shooting through her. She planted her feet on the bed, pushing her hips up against him, spreading her legs as wide as she could to take the invasion of his cock as he entered her. He was enormous, his thickness stretching her beyond anything she had ever felt and yet she took him all, feeling the tip of him buried deep as his hips ground against hers.
She felt his breath against her temple, his hand sliding between their bodies and opening her lips so his cock rubbed against her clit every time he moved in or out. She pushed, her hips arching off the bed as another orgasm slammed through her, the effect so strong she cried out.
Zoë shot straight up in bed, gasping as her pussy continued to throb with the after effects of an incredible dreaming orgasm. The room was pitch black, and for a minute she had no idea where she was.
*******
If the villagers were to be believed, her dream lover was a ghost. She still wasn’t sure she believed that, but he had given her back her self-esteem, not to mention several great orgasms.
She put her palm against the window right where a glint of moonlight reflected off the pane. She felt at peace as she watched the full moon crest the horizon. She opened the window to allow the night breeze in, letting it caress her bare skin and ruffle her hair as she pulled the hair band out.
“Líoch. You are beautiful.”
She spun at the sound of his voice, a deep Irish brogue that raised goose bumps on her skin. He stood on the other side of her bed, a tall man with golden hair that reached his shoulders. Shoulders that were massive, and bare. Her gaze swept downward. He had the most magnificent hard on, his cock jutting like a sword from a nest of darker blonde hair.
“I am Keegan McFallon, knight and lord. You are the one come to save me.”
“Why me?”
“You haven’t run away.”
“I have nowhere to go. Besides, who in their right mind would run away after being given multiple orgasms every night?”
“Would you like another?” A sexy grin cut across his features, softening the hard planes of his face.
*********
October is right around the corner, and with it comes thoughts of autumn, pumpkins and harvest, Halloween, spirits and incredible sex. OK, so the sex is a constant thought, but October means I can remind you about my story “Twelfth of Never” that came out through HALLOWEEN HEART-THROBS last year. The great thing about ebooks is if you are new to TEB, or you just didn’t have a chance to get it last year, it is STILL available! Check out TEB under short stories!
(I've gotta find some sexy pictures to post next month.)
Bobbie
29.9.08
Just Exactly When is the Twelfth of Never?
28.9.08
Bloggiest of Bloggers
I am running out of steam. LOL. I have been so busy with new projects, new blogs, and promo stuff that I have been at a loss at what to blog about. So, as usually happens when I can't find something interesting to talk about...here are some pics of hot men.
Happy Sunday.
XoXoXo
Dakota Rebel
27.9.08
Hi, my name is Kim and I'm... normal?
Normality has never really made it to the top of my personal to do list, but it appears I may have hit upon it by accident.
Some very nice scientists in Australia have been kind enough to do a bit of research and their conclusion is that Bondage Lovers are Normal.
So, as a result of their hard work, I’m very pleased to be able to introduce myself as a new author to Total-e-bound with the knowledge that I and all the characters I write about 
are all perfectly normal.
Their research results go on to say that bondage lovers may well be happier than people who do not indulge in kinky sex games - I really can't imagine what's making them so happy...
Well, I can’t speak for the real world, but all of my kinky characters end up very happy by the end of their story. I don’t do unhappy endings.
As you might have guessed by now, most of my characters live towards the leather end of the sexual spectrum. That’s pretty much the only thing some of them have in common with each other.
I write a fifty-fifty split of male/male and male/female titles, ranging from those who indulge in a little bit of tie up and tease, all the way through to those who dedicate themselves to a 24/7 kinky lifestyle.
My first title is called The Gift and it will be out on December 8th as part of the Christmas Spirits Anthology – more about that closer to the date.
I’ve also got another three titles already contracted to come out next year as part of two different series I’m working on. There’ll me more about them in due course, but in the meantime here are the blurbs.
At the moment, not having any titles for sale on Total-e-bound or anywhere else, so I’m somewhat short of excerpts to share with you. I do however have a few blurbs for the upcoming titles that are shuffling around nervously, waiting for the actually stories to come along and keep them company.
26.9.08
A Sizzle that Satisfies!
Talk about fun in the sun!
I just returned from the International Lingerie Show in Las Vegas. The weather was hot, the evenings sultry, the excitement palpable, the energy level high, the food abundant and delicious. Excitement and expectation were everywhere. The atmosphere sizzled.
There were beautiful young women, and some hunky men!, modeling for various lines. The highlight of the event was a fashion show on Monday evening. Drinks flowed from an open bar (what’s better than a glass of Merlot, but a free glass of Merlot?!). The music was techno, so it had a great, energetic beat. The choreography, staging, and lighting made the package complete.
The whole event started me thinking about fantasy, about creativity. Every piece of lingerie on the models (and some of the pieces were itty-bitty!) had been designed by someone. Then there’s color and fabric. In its way, creating an event like the International Lingerie Show is not terribly different from writing a book.
You begin with nothing, other than an idea. Then you craft characters to sweep away the reader and create a fantasy. Words become a writer’s canvas. Plot provides the nuance of color, dialogue, the music. Conflict is the fabric, be it sheer and daring or sturdy and opaque. Pacing is the backdrop, the staging.
If a writer has done her job well, then we’ve been entertained. We’ve been swept away into an alternate reality that allows us to forget our problems and concerns. We’ve escaped to a place that is real, but doesn’t really exist.
Our senses have been fed. We’ve laughed or cried. We’ve rooted for some characters and shouted boo-hiss at others. We’ve been moved emotionally, turned-on in an elemental and thrilling way. Maybe we’ve been provoked to think about our own lives in a new or different way. We’re excited, as if a techno beat had provided a staccato to energize us.
Writers have created a sizzle that satisfies. And isn’t that what it’s all about?
25.9.08
A Panty Dilemma...
24.9.08
Ten Wild and Crazy Places to Have Sex
Yep...after reading all the blog posts, I, too, decided to give you a top 10. This one even counts for research...I know I'll be using a couple of these in upcoming WIPs!
1. So, you think books are sexy. How about having sex at the library?
2. Meetings are boring; how about trying out a few new positions on the main conference table (and then rehashing the encounter in your mind every staff meeting!)
3. In the elevator during a blackout (wasn't that a movie?)
4. Have an oral fixation? Take care of it with food and a little oral sex under the table at your favorite fancy restaurant. Just make sure the tableclothes are l-o-n-g!
5. Okay, so doing it in the backseat isn't so out of the ordinary. How about in the front seat...while driving!
6. How about a little nookie while waiting in line for the movie? That way, you don't miss the previews or the show!
7. Public bathrooms, and not just those a mile off the ground. Try it in the local fast food joint or how about the gym?
8. Or, if you need a little visual stimulus to go along with your sex, how about in those little cubicles at the local "adult" store or behind the curtain at the video rental place?
9. On really long bus trips when everyone is either focused on the movie or sleeping.
10. And last, but not least, in the confessional at a local catholic church.
So, where does your fantasy take you??? Enquiring minds want to know.
Ericka Scott
www.erickascott.com
23.9.08
The Top Ten Reasons to go to Work Naked
TOP TEN REASONS TO GO TO WORK NAKED...
1. Your boss is always yelling, "I wanna see your ass in here by 8:00!"
2. Can take advantage of computer monitor radiation to work on your tan.
3. "I'd love to chip in, but I left my wallet in my pants."
4. To stop those creepy guys in Marketing from looking down your blouse.
5. You want to see if it's like the dream.
6. So that with a little help from Muzak you can add "Exotic Dancer" to your exaggerated resume.
7. People stop stealing your pens after they've seen where you keep them.
8. Diverts attention from the fact that you also came to work drunk.
9. Gives "bad hair day" a whole new meaning.
10. No one steals your chair.
TOP TEN SIGNS YOUR SPOUSE IS HAVING A CYBER AFFAIR...
10. Lately, she sits at the computer naked.
9. After signing off, he always has a cigarette.
8. The giant rubber inflatable disk drive.
7. In the morning, the computer screen is all fogged up.
6. He's gotten amazingly good at typing with one hand.
5. Every day, Bill Gates sends 10 million dollars worth of flowers.
4. The jam in the laser printer is a pair of underwear.
3. During sex she screams "A COLON BACKSLASH ENTER INSERT!!!!"
2. The fax file is filled with pictures of some guy's ass.
1. Lipstick on the mouse.
-----
Have a great day everyone!
~ Jamie
21.9.08
The Top Ten Female Sex Fantasies
What Do Women Say Are Their Top Ten Sex Fantasies?
After passing a hot, sunny day in August perusing The Church Street Fetish Fair in
Anyway, I decided to check out the internet and see what it had to say about fetishes and female fantasies. I was delighted to find a list someone had compiled of the Top Ten Female Sex Fantasies and I’m going to share the contents with you. I’m truly sorry if your favourite fantasy isn’t listed, but maybe you could try one of the Top Ten instead. Who knows, you just might like it.
Number 10: Female Domination
According to the survey, women fantasize about being the one in the dominant role when having sex. This fantasy revolves around having a man tied down and pleasuring her with his tongue. Something about a tall, dark, handsome stud at her command and at her mercy.
Number 9: Male Domination
Turns out women sometimes want to relinquish the dominant role and let an alpha male take charge in the bedroom. She wants to flaunt her femininity, drive him to the edge and then push him over so he’ll throw her to the bed, rip off her clothes and take her fiercely. She wants him to dominate in the bedroom, but definitely not in the boardroom.
Number 8: Teacher/Student
Many women want to taunt their lovers by dressing up as a schoolgirl and being naughty. And we all know what happens to naughty girls—they get what they deserve, a good spanking. And if she’s an adult, more often than not that spanking leads to hot, hot sex.
Number 7: Sex with a Stranger
Many of us have grown up with a fervent religious upbringing and strong societal conditioning. Sex with a stranger appeals to that darker, naughtier side that we often feel must be kept hidden. The side that sees a handsome man in a hotel bar and wishes he’d take her up to his room and make love to her all night long. It’s a one-night stand with no morning-after guilt.
Number 6: Ménage à trois
This threesome would include the woman, her man and another woman. Her man would watch the two women kiss and caress, but he’d only have eyes, and other body parts, for her. No jealousy allowed here. The extra woman is only eye candy for her man. He gets to look, but not touch. She doesn’t want to share him with anybody.
Number 5: Ménage à trois
This fantasy would bring the woman together with two heterosexual men so it would be all about her and how she can be given the most sexual gratification. She may dream about one man penetrating her while she performs oral sex on the other or she may take it even further in her mind and fantasize
about double penetration by her two lovers. This is about being adored and fulfilled by two gorgeous men. It’s all for her.
Number 4: Voyeurism
You’re home in the evening and notice your next door neighbours have left the curtains open. They seem to be having wild, uninhibited sex on the dining room table, the table you can see from your dining room window. That’s what this fantasy is all about—watching people having sex while they're unaware.
Number 3: Forced Sex
In this scenario, a woman is carried off by Mr. Gorgeous and he just won’t take no for an answer. Despite her protests, he tears her clothes off and arouses her mercilessly before he drives into her. This fantasy allows the woman to have the wild, dirty sex she craves without the guilt. She can be wanton and enjoy sex without society’s voice saying ‘no’ in her head.
Number 2: Exhibitionism
Although they feel their body isn't perfect, many women harbour the dream of being filmed while having sex. Some even want to be seen making love in a public place like in a park or on the subway.
And Sex Fantasy Number 1: Private Dancer
Many women want to do a striptease for their man or take it even further and do a lap dance for him. She feels beautiful, he’s hard. It’s a winning combination for both of them.
I’m not sure if readers share these fantasies. Let me know.
Thanks to askmen.com for 'The List'.
Kaenar Langford
Tales to seduce and entice...
Check out her latest release
The Harder They Come
an older woman/younger man tale
20.9.08
Mountain Cleansing
Last spring I decided to write a new series surrounding life on a gay dude ranch. Sort of a gay Love Boat, only on land. So, with a little help from my friend Google, I came across OutWest Adventures, a travel agency geared towards gay and lesbian vacations. I emailed the agency, told them who I was and what I did for a living, and asked if they had any ranch trips that might suit my needs. Aaron emailed back and told me about several week-long trips to his family’s working cattle ranch. I was ecstatic but decided to play it safe and emailed back to ask if the other guests on the trip would mind a forty-two year old straight woman tagging along. Aaron replied that the trips were all very straight friendly, which made me giggle. He went on to say that I was more than welcome on any of the OutWest trips.
Well, last week I finally had my adventure. I thought I was playing it safe by taking several horseback riding lessons before my planned trip, but little did I know the only thing I seemed to have learned correctly was how to saddle a horse. Nowhere in my lessons did my instructor talk about spending hours in the saddle.
I flew into Billings, Montana on Saturday and almost immediately met Roger. I noticed him standing beside me waiting for the shuttle van to the hotel. Evidently Roger spotted my OutWest Adventures tag on my laptop case so he walked over to introduce himself. We finally made it to the airport and I checked into my room. Four hours later, my friend Richie, from Kansas City arrived. With Richie at my side, I was all set.
Just down the road from the ranch is the small town of Roscoe. The Grizzly Bar is where we met our last two guests for lunch. Michael and Angelo had driven in from Buffalo, New York but still managed to pull up right behind us. We had a leisurely meal before heading to our final destination.
Pulling onto the Lazy E-L ranch road felt almost magical. The ranch sits in the shadows of the Beartooth Mountains and the views were absolutely breathtaking. Although the sky was dumping a good bit of drizzle on us, it didn’t dampen our spirits. We got settled into the large lodge they call the Summer House and went back out to meet our horses.
Tuesday evening, we ate in the old family dining room connected to our Summer House. The meal was prepared by David and Aaron, owners of OutWest Adventures. We enjoyed several glasses of wine and wonderful conversation. Okay, maybe I enjoyed a little more wine than most, but I still had a great time. I stayed up with my new friend Michael until the wee hours of the morning smoking, talking and laughing. Yep, I was in heaven.
think there was an available patch of my butt that wasn’t already bruised and sore. Instead of riding, we spent the morning hiking up into the hills. Rusty showed us some dinosaur bones, and I took pictures of scenery. Before the hard working die-hard guests got back with the wranglers, it started to rain. Did I mention it was freezing cold that day? Bless those guys for braving it out, but I enjoyed myself on the front porch with a bottle of Hornsby’s Hard Cider in my hand. It was a damn good day.Thursday was my new friend Angelo’s birthday, so after waking him up with a birthday greeting, we headed to the barn. That day was our big cattle drive. Our butts had been preparing for it all week. Some butts were more prepared than others, but we knew we could do it. Right after breakfast in the cookhouse, we saddled up and began our journey. Those of us who didn’t ride the day before were supposed to have an easier go. Evidently they figured out quickly some of us expected more a dude ranch than a working cattle ranch. Okay, on with the story.
Debbie and a nice man named Tom, lead our little soft-butted group over the hills. We were to join up with the rest of the crew at some point. Now, I have to interject here once again. Evidently they had a meeting right after breakfast explaining to the inexperienced guests just how to round up a group of cattle. Michael and I however, were out smoking. Damn. I never seem to be in the right place at the right time. Of course we didn’t know we’d missed this all-important meeting until we got onto the large hills. Debbie turns to us and says, “Round up those cows and drive them down the hill into the valley.” Then she rode off like a streak of lightning. Michael, Angelo and I just looked at each other. We heard Debbie yelling from across the ditch and thought she was telling us to run the cattle towards her, which we did very effectively, I might add. Turns out, she didn’t want the cattle towards her at all. Well, so much for that. We tried to drive them back the other direction and some of them started to go back up the hill. Debbie came out of nowhere and yelled at me to get up that hill and drive the cattle back down. Angelo and Michael were to take over from there and help get them down the hill. Scared of getting yelled at once again, I took off on my horse up the side of the hill. There I was weaving through pine trees that could’ve easily left me blind or headless acting like I knew what the hell I was doing. I managed to gather all the cattle and scare them back down the hill. I have a strong feeling it was the look of utter panic on my face that scared the cows into retreating.Once all the cattle were driven safely into another feeding pasture, we watched Roger and Thad, the head cow boss, doctor the few injured cattle. Nope, I didn’t do it, I swear. They were hurt all on their own. We’d been on a horse for hours and I’d just about exhausted my stash of Nicorette gum when they finally said we were done for the day. Hallelujah! We started riding up a rather large hill and it was all fine and good until we got to the top. Then we had a gorgeous view of the ranch below. Home. I wanted to cry and fall to me knees. Except I couldn’t do that because I was too darn short and I knew if I got off the blasted horse, I’d never get back on.
So, one problem left. I happen to notice that I couldn’t see the other side of the hill. “How do we get down?” someone in the group asked. Jael, the ranch manager pointed towards what looked like a drop off. I’m sure my eyes bugged right out of my head. I even got a little misty thinking about dying on a mountain far away from my children. Jael explained how we were to position our bodies to lean back in the saddle and steady our feet in our stirrups. Sounds simple, right? Crap. I don’t know that I’ve ever been so scared as when my horse, Snickers, took me over the side of that hill. Once he’d taken a couple of steps I began to calm down. The hill wasn’t quite as steep as I’d worried, but I’m not sure that I ever want to do it again. At least it was a shortcut, and we were soon back at the cabin.
A highlight of the afternoon was a drive up the mountains. We enjoyed playing in the snow like a bunch of children. Of course I wished I’d had some sugar, eggs and vanilla so I could have a big old bowl of snow ice cream.
Rusty lifted my glass and took a drink. “God, this tastes like lighter fluid,” he remarked. Whew, so it really wasn’t my uneducated pallet. Michael took a sip and declared that no, the drink wasn’t made right. When the waitress came back in, I did something completely out of character for me and sent it back for another. The next drink wasn’t any better. When the bartender came in, Richie asked him if he used something…something. Some type of liquor that I’d never heard of. The bartender said they didn’t have that and the guys declared you couldn’t make a proper Cosmo without it. Needless to say, I ordered a beer. You really can’t take the Kansas out of the girl.
Friday was spent driving around, playing in the water o
f the creek across from the Grizzly Bar. Most of us had a leisurely day of riding in the van and seeing the sights. That night Kim, the ranch chef, made everyone steak, baked potatoes and tiramisu. We sat around drinking long into the evening. I know it was three o’clock in the morning before Michael and I finally gave up the fight and went to bed.My great adventure may have started out as book research, but it became so much more. The clean mountain air and wonderful people helped cleanse me of the grief and stress I’d managed to accumulate over the past year.
This account of my Montana adventure is dedicated happily to (from left to right) Eli, Michael, Angelo, Me, Roger, Matt, Richie, and Brian. Bless you all in everything you do. I’ll never forget you.
19.9.08
Sneak peek of the next White Tigers novel!
Hi everyone - I'm hard at work on the next installment of the White Tigers series, Men of Tokyo: Sudden Heat. This one tells the story of Koji's friend Hiru and Quan Chan both of whom appeared in Sudden Bliss.
Hiru spends a weekend exploring and having passionate sex qith Quan Chan, a master White Tiger. Of course, they end up falling in love, but life circumstances seem to be forcing them apart. Will they find a way to each other? Or will Quan Chan end up with the Golden Dragon, the hottest, most alluring young man in Shanghai?
Teaser: (unedited. May differ slightly from final version)
Quan Chan slid open the soji to Hiru’s room and led him inside. They showered together and Quan Chan delighted in being crammed into the tiny shower against Hiru’s large strong body.
When they got out, he dried Hiru off and Hiru insisted on drying him in return. He accepted and stood on the bathmat, surrendering to the gentle way Hiru wiped the towel over his chest and arms, as if he were afraid of hurting him.
Turning, Quan Chan caught sight of his own reflection in the vanity mirror and caught a soft breath. The man staring back at him looked…different. His eyes were brighter even though they still appeared troubled. His face looked relaxed, the skin of his cheeks blushing and…well…radiant. Behind him, Hiru was busy at work, wiping the towel across his back, then down his ass and thighs. The soft material grazed the underside of his balls, sending a pleasant shiver through him, the promise of what was to come.
Hiru stood up again and gently scrubbed the towel against the back of Quan Chan’s head. Quan Chan smiled at Hiru’s reflection and found his gaze suddenly caught in Hiru’s shiny hair. How sexy it had been this weekend to rake his fingers through that hair. He sighed. Hiru should have had the same experience.
“What are you thinking, Quan-san? If I may ask?”
Only then did Quan Chan notice Hiru had set the towel aside and stood behind him, staring at them both in the mirror.
“You look so pensive,” Hiru added.
“I was just thinking I should grow my hair out.” For you. He studied the dark shadow over his scalp, the way he’d looked for so long. “I haven’t seen my own hair since I was fourteen.”
Hiru’s eyes suddenly widened. His large hands cupped Quan Chan’s shoulders. “Is that when you started…this path?”
Quan Chan’s gut lurched. Shit! He hadn’t meant to say that. All he needed now was for Hiru to pity him, the way Kiku had all these years. His whole body stiffened under Hiru’s touch. There was no backtracking now. Not that it mattered. After Monday, who knew what the future would hold? “Yes, Hiru-san,” he said softly. He turned, not dislodging Hiru’s hands and leaned back against the vanity. “I started when I was fourteen.”
Hiru frowned. His serious gaze searched Quan Chan’s. “Why, Quan-san? Why so young?”
Quan Chan sighed again and glanced down at his feet. Until this moment, Kiku was the only other friend he’d spoken to about his past. “It’s a long story. Do you want to hear it?”
Hiru nodded immediately. “Of course,” he said softly. “I want to know everything about you.”
Heat suffused Quan Chan’s face. Hiru’s openness always had this effect on him. He drew in a deep breath. “My mother grew up in the countryside outside of Shanghai during the Cultural Revolution. When she was sixteen, she fell in love with the schoolteacher who’d been sent to teach in the schoolhouse in her village. He was young, just out of the university and was taken with her because she was so beautiful. He taught her to read classics that he kept hidden from the government. They had a love affair and she became pregnant. He was going to marry her but then, one morning, some army people came in uniforms and took him away.”
Hiru’s mouth dropped open and a look of horror infused his eyes. “That’s terrible.”
He nodded. “Yes. It got worse. My mother was determined to find him. Of course, there was no way to do so, but she was determined. She left her home and went into Shanghai. She spent hours every day in the government buildings, waiting and asking for him, begging for just enough food to keep going.” Quan Chan paused. Just speaking of it made the image rise of his mother as a young woman, pregnant and frightened, desperate to find the man she loved, the father of her child. On a bench in a sterile hallway she spent her days waiting.
“Finally,” he continued, “she needed to find work. There was no other way to survive. She didn’t want me to die inside of her from malnourishment so she went searching for work. She found work in a brothel, doing laundry and cooking for the women there. They gave her a bed to sleep in so she could carry me to term.” He looked down again before continuing. “Shortly after she had me, the brothel owners threatened to put her out on the streets unless she started taking customers. She needed to bring in money if she wanted to be able to stay there with a child. She was trapped.” Quan Chan’s heartbeat had risen as he spoke, feeling his mother’s grief as his own. “She didn’t want to be wandering the streets with a child to feed and she didn’t want to give me up, not only because she loved me but because I had come from her union with my father.”
“Oh, Quan-san.” Hiru’s voice was heavy with pain.
Quan Chan decided to continue before Hiru could say more. Pity was unbearable to him, and had been his entire life. “My mother made me go to school when I was little, but when I got older, I wouldn’t go. I’d sneak out and run around on the streets, looking for food.” He omitted the part about getting beat up a lot of the time. “But when I was fourteen, I stumbled upon the White Tiger temple. It had been established a few years earlier, in a neighbourhood close to my mother’s brothel. The men there took me in. They gave me food, clothes, a warm clean bed and meditation. I’d been there ever since when Kiku came along years later.” He fell silent and looked into the other man’s eyes.
Hiru was staring back at him, his dark eyes misted over. “Quan-san,” he said against softly, his hands still resting on Quan Chan’s shoulders.
“Please, Hiru-san, don’t feel badly for me. I’ve had a good life, better than most of the people living out there in the world. My mother is happy now. She’s married to a kind man, a professor at Fudan University who fell in love with her when she still worked in the brothel. She fell into her circumstances out of love for my father and she’s been a wonderful role model for me. Because of her influence, I have friends like Kiku and Ryu and Koji. All the men here.” And now…you.
One of Hiru’s hands went to Quan Chan’s cheek and cupped it. “I don’t feel badly for you, Quan-san,” he said. “It’s just…when you were speaking, I was picturing you as a boy on the streets and wishing I could have been there to help you.”
Before Quan Chan could answer, he found himself being pulled into Hiru’s arms. A strong warm embrace surrounded him. He yielded, allowing Hiru to hug him close. “Thank you, Hiru-san,” he breathed against the muscle of Hiru’s chest. Damn, the man made him feel so…safe.
Hiru’s hand moved across his back, partly caressing in a comforting way, partly exploring, enjoying the muscles there. Fingertips pressed into the ridge of muscle along Quan Chan’s spine and Hiru’s thick dragon nudged his as it filled and hardened.
Quan Chan released a long, deep sigh. How beautiful it was simply to enjoy this embrace, to feel accepted and desired without the difficulties he’d experienced with Kiku. Of course, he and Kiku had experienced great pleasure with each other, but there had been the damned visions, and then, when Quan Chan had come to stay here, his love affair with Kiku was painful for Ryu. Quan Chan’s conscience had never been clear around Ryu and even though Ryu had eventually befriended him, there had always been an undercurrent of tension between them. Many times, Quan Chan had thought to back away from Kiku, but could never do it. He’d been powerless to stay away from Kiku, desperate himself for the comfort and sensuality Kiku was capable of giving.
Would he be as powerless now, when the circumstances might demand he leave?
He closed his eyes and palmed Hiru’s broad back. This sure as hell wasn’t the time to think of such things, not when he had this magnificent, virile, passionate man in his arms.
Turning his face slightly, he brushed his lips over Hiru’s pectoral muscle. Hiru let out a soft groan and his fingertip agitated against Quan Chan’s skin. Hiru’s large dragon was thick and hard now, pressing with insistence against Quan Chan’s lower abdomen.
Quan Chan let his hands slide down Hiru’s back and over his hips, seeking those perfect, hard ass cheeks. His tongue found Hiru’s nipple and licked back and forth, pulling short hard breaths from Hiru as the small disk tightened.
Pulling back, he smiled up at Hiru’s flushed face. “There are advantages to having practiced as long as I have, Hiru-san,” he said, his own voice low and husky.
Hiru didn’t answer. His lids were heavy over his eyes and he stared down at Quan Chan, breathing heavily. His hands stroked small, agitated circles across Quan Chan’s back and his dragon twitched again, as if reminding him to give it attention.
Well, that was precisely what he intended to do.
18.9.08
A rousing debate
I enjoy a good natured rousing debate when it comes to books. Since me and my friends are avid readers we have these talks often. If we like a book we can go on for hours about it and each get something different from the story. Anyway back to this current debate. I had a good natured debate about a book a mutual friend and I had both read. She loved it and I didn’t.
That led to a long debate of us both listing out points and countering why we liked or disliked the book. We got loud and emotionally about our point of view. I love a great debate on the merits of a book. Gets the blood pumping. Of course others around us joined in. And it lead to other discussion of various author’s work we liked, did not like, the reasons why or why not. It was a very reveling conversation.
Again I was given an example of the emotion of writing. As I said many time to various people. No matter if your book is not liked or liked. It has created an emotion. As an author this is what I want to do. Whether it is good or bad. I want you to feel it. The one thing I do not want is apathy. That is like a punch to any writer. Please NO APATHY. Give me any emotion and I will feel that I have done my job.
Now I am not saying if I get a bad review or email that a reader didn’t like my work I won’t get a little upset at first. But when it comes down to it I will be content and happy. I created a reaction.
An Emotion.
I touched the reader in someway. From that little debate I had the other day. I realized that people will remember you if they have enough emotion whether good or bad. I got a few new authors to try just from that conversation alone. Hey just because someone didn’t like a book doesn’t mean what they saw as flaws I or another reader wouldn’t see as treasures.
Come on and share the books you have read and created strong emotion. Don’t be shy it can be good or bad.
Taige
http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/
...increasing the sizzle factor
Chat Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/crenshawcafe
My Blog: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/blog
17.9.08
Location, Location!
My August post wasn't the least bit naughty, so I thought that I'd better make up for that in September. Actually I was inspired by Desirée Holt's blog earlier this month on the topic of "How to Have Sex in an Elevator".
I've never had the opportunity to get it on in a lift, but I will admit to having been involved in sexual activity in some unusual locations. I was lucky enough to come of age in that golden time between the invention of the Pill and the onset of AIDS, as well as to have been brought up by parents with rather liberal attitudes. During my twenties and thirties, I wouldn't exactly say that I was wild. No, I'd rather describe myself as "passionate" and "experimental". I married in my late twenties, but especially in the early years of our marriage, my husband was pretty passionate and experimental, too.
I hope that I'm not shocking you.
So, I've had sex in quite a variety of uncommon settings:
On a plane. Yes, I'm a member of the "Mile High" club. In the loo, not in my seat. Though I did recently write a story about a more brazen aerial encounter. (See below!)
On a Greyhound Bus. It was dark, and we had a blanket, so the escapade was less extreme than it may sound.
On the floor of a church. This was not intended to be sacrilegious! When I was in grad school, my boyfriend and I traveled to Mardi Gras. The city of New Orleans had opened up all the public buildings including the churches to accommodate penniless voyagers like us. We were inside a sleeping bag. On the other hand, we were surrounded by about two hundred other people.
On the ramparts of a castle. On a ferris wheel. In an underground car park. Okay, I'll admit that none of these were the whole hog, just some X-rated fooling around. 
On the sandy ground in the Colorado desert, under the burning sun, surrounded by cacti, scorpions and tarantulas. We didn't really notice the hostile environment until afterwards...
In most cases, my lover and I were not trying to be crazy or daring just for the sake of the novelty. Desire overwhelmed us. We couldn't wait. I didn't know that, later in life, I'd become a writer of erotic romance and be able to use my experiences as inspiration.
Of course, not all the sex scenes in my books are based on my own life. Most, in fact, are not. My writing is more likely to reflect my fantasies than my personal history. My characters have sexual encounters in many locations that I've never considered. (All right, perhaps I've considered them, but I haven't followed through!):
On stage. In Raw Silk, Kate has an F/F encounter on the stage of a Thai go-go bar.
On a billiards table. In Incognito, Miranda gets involved with two shady characters in a down-market waterfront cafe.
In a Chinese restaurant. Kate is sequestered with her Thai lover in a private cubicle at a hundred-year old establishment in Chinatown.
In a London taxi. In Ruby's Rules, Rick teases Ruby with her own whip in the back seat of the cab.
Bent over a backyard picnic table. In Rendezvous, Tony takes Rebecca even as the Halloween party is in full swing. Of course, he's a ghost, so maybe nobody can see them...
Honestly, I don't choose my sexual settings purely for their shock value. Not usually, anyway! It's simply that my characters tend to get carried away, just as I used to. (I'm twenty six years married now, and my husband is in his sixties, so we've both calmed down. Some.)
Every now and again, though, I'll fantasize about putting my characters into the most compromising locations that I can imagine. Just for the fun of it. Recently I submitted a story called "Red Eye" to an print anthology about "mile high" sex. I haven't heard yet from the editor whether it has been accepted, but I don't think she'd mind if I gave you a short sample, just to whet your appetite.
=== X Rated Excerpt from "Red Eye" ===
He was not gentle like the men she had dreamed about before she knew him. He was not tender. Still, she had no doubts that he was meant for her. In the darkened cabin, he read her body like Braille. He knew how to tease every nuance of pleasure out of her wet and open flesh. While one hand held her gagged, the other toyed with her nipples through her blouse, twisting and squeezing the swollen nubs. She worried briefly that he'd tear the fabric, until the seething flood of sensation washed her worries away.
Above the susurrations of the passengers shifting in their seats, the coughs and the snores and the faint babble of movie sound tracks, she could hear the slap of his balls against her bare thighs and his open-mouthed panting. The steamy jungle smell of her cunt rose around them. She was sure that someone would notice, would turn around to check the empty rows toward the back of the section. His palm smothered her moans. Then the pulse of his come inside her swept her into a whirling climax. The engine whined in her ears. Gravity released her. She floated weightless, shaken by spasms of pleasure so intense that they practically stripped her of consciousness.
When she came to herself, she was on her knees, her face buried in the cushion, the seat belt buckle digging into her cheek. There was no trace of him, save for the burning in her cunt and the used condom she found under the seat. She pulled herself to her feet, smoothed her uniform down over her torn pantyhose, slipped back into her sensible pumps. She was still shaking.
====
So now it's your turn. Tell me the wildest place you've ever made love. Or tell about the location that you're dying to try!
16.9.08
Passions.
I am an erotic romance writer so it is easy to see I have a passion for sex and romance although not always in that order. I've always loved a good romance, as a teeenager I read Mills & Boons books all the time and loved any book with a good love story to it would get the thumbs up from me. As I got older though, my attention wasn't held purely by the romance, I wanted to see more of the passion and I think you miss out on a massive part of the love story if you leave out the love making. It is during sex that people become raw, that they show their true colours and express their emotions so easily.
Another of my passions is cooking. I love to cook. I'm not a cheffy kind of cook, no, I'm not a food snob but I do love to cook and I love to read recipe books and watch cookery shows on TV. My special passion is for baking. I have a sweet tooth and so I get a special thrill from preparing a tasty dessert. I like to try out new things as well as the tried and tested recipes that my family love. Mostly they are successful, but every now and then I do end up with an inedible mess on my hands! I feel very blessed by my passion for cooking, it means a large part of my day is no longer a chore. I just wish I had a passion for cleaning, then I'd be the happiest housewife going. Here's a photo of a Birthday Cake I baked for my sister.
Anyone who knows me just a little knows that I have so far missed one massive passion from my list, football and more precisely, Manchester United. I love my team and I am incredibly passionate about all their games and goings on. I was ecstatic at the end of last season when my boys won the Premiership and the Champions league. I was lucky enough to get to a few matches, my favourite being the last home game of the season where the team came round and saluted the fans for their support. I adore football, and the outcome of a match will seriously effect my mood for days to come. I've got a photo here of me on my first ever trip to Old Trafford.
And of course, I am passionate about writing. I have to be or the characters and story ideas wizzing round my head would drive me totally insane. I have to get some of it out and into my keyboard and when I do I feel an immediate sense of relief. Anyone who writes will know the passion that grabs you sometimes when you're in the middle of a story and the words start to flow. I adore that kind of passion.
So, now you know some of my passions, what are yours?
15.9.08
Coming Soon!
This is going to be a pretty short post because the day job is killing me! I'd like to share my blurb and a little inspiration from my upcoming TEB release, Mist and Stone.
Willow, an initiate of Avalon, accompanies the High Priestess to Camelot. She never imagined she’d find the man who had sparked her fascination as a child. More disturbing is the realisation that her childhood adoration has grown into something deeper, more sexual. However, duty to Avalon forces her to sacrifice herself to another man in the upcoming Beltane ritual.
Can the fragile blossom of love survive the rite of spring or will it be crushed beneath the yoke of honour and duty?
14.9.08
Ghost of a Chance, Coming Sept.22.08
This month is an easy one here for me. I’ve got this book coming out you see so I’m going to gab about that. It’s called Ghost of a Chance, and is a very erotic m/m ghost type mystery, I put together just for the readers of TEB books. As a new author at this publishing house, I’m still learning what’s expected and the proper formatting and such, but there’s one thing I picked up pretty quickly. You all enjoy the hot and steamy side of men…you like em hot. Well, so do I and when there’s more than one, or two, it’s even better.
Ghost of a Chance starts off with one, but quickly you’ll be reading about another, sort of. When Robert Haskins moves into an old farm house, he doesn't expect an erotic visit on his first night there, or his second. A handsome ghost, long dead and troubled, gives him amazing oral sex—and a mystery to solve.
He winds up at the local police station where lone cop and heart throb Joe Sanders is more than eager to help him solve the forty-year-old case. Together, they follow the leads. Can the two of them solve a crime that's been dimmed by time? Will the feelings they have for each other last or die? Do they stand a Ghost of a Chance?
Now, I do hope this has caught your attention, and I’m really hoping you’d like a little bit of an excerpt, ‘cause that’s what’s going to happen next. LOL
Ghost of a Chance
Erotic Rating: Total e-burning
Book length: Short story
ISBN 987-1-906811-06-8
Release date: Sept.22.08
Silken softness wrapped around his cock, sucking gently, exquisitely.
Robert shifted. Rolling onto his back, he stretched his legs out, barely conscious of being in bed, not really awake.
Wet suction pulled at his shaft. A tongue slid over the crown of his cock, the tip delving into the slit. His thighs eased open.
Yes, a dream. That’s what it is. A wet dream, a fantasy—a disembodied mouth, tongue, lips, teeth, all there just for his pleasure.
The suction eased, the lips barely skimming over his shaft—up and down, up and down. His hips twitched, his buttocks clenched, his thighs tightened. He splayed his knees wider. A tongue moved wetly up his shaft again. The sensation faded.
Excitement waned. He fell into deeper sleep.
A face appeared—dark hair tousled, thick brows with one arched more then the other, sideburns longer than fashionable. The nose had a bump in the middle. Eyes—brown, wide open, framed with beautifully long lashes—watched him. Lips—thick, moist, kissable—opened.
Robert’s hips moved, churned his ass into the bed. Soft sheets brushed against his shaft and its head wept and stuck to the material.
He reached for himself. A squeeze, a tug. He sighed and his slumber again deepened.
The beautiful, handsome face vanished, but the mouth remained. Lips, tongue, brushed the thick dome of his cock.
His balls shifted, moving up closer to his body. He clenched his ass. In sync, his hips rose, pushing his cock shaft further in.
Taking his hand off his cock, he reached lower and cupped the soft, nearly hairless sac below. Holding it, he pulled down on the two walnut-sized orbs.
He relaxed, his sleep deepened again. Time passed.
“You like that, don’t you, my love?” a soft masculine voice whispered huskily.
“Yes,” he hissed. Or I thought I did. Am I speaking? Am I dreaming? Does it matter?
The slickness of a mouth returned, nipping at the flesh along the length of his cock.
His shaft thickened instantly, if it ever actually had deflated at all. He was hard. He wanted to fuck.
He dreamed. The face was back. Thick lashes rose, revealing lust-filled, dark eyes looking up at him. The nose, a little too sharp at the tip, brushed his pubes as the mouth descended, taking him in to the hilt. Grunting, he basked in the feel of that lovely, soft, wet mouth engulfing his cock. The head touched, rubbed against the back of a throat.
“Yes,” he hissed again. Or is it the first time?
He shuddered, reached for the face, connected with…nothing, air, sheets. His fingers slipped over the cool silk fabric, gripped, clenched and held tight while his cock was lavished with gulping pleasure.
A chin nudged his ball sac, pushing the magic orbs to and fro. He arched his back, his fingers and toes curled tight, he was aching for release—half-asleep, half-awake, breathless with lust.
The face vanished. The mouth abandoned him.
Robert sat up. One of his hands rested on the bed behind him, supporting him, the other moved to his stomach. His cock pulsed against his palm. Glancing around, he peered into the corners, along the walls, the window shades drawn tight. He was alone.
He was fucking hard, needed to come. He was exhausted.
Peering at the clock on the bedside table, he saw the arms pointing at the three and the ten. It wasn’t ten fifteen.
Sagging, he fell back on the pillow. Too old for a wet dream, he told himself. Too tired to finish. Still he reached down and cupped himself, sighing. His thoughts wandered to the dream of the face, the mouth, those deep brown, smouldering eyes.
He sighed with pleasure.
Weird dreams. Fuck me dreams. Where’d they come from? His thoughts faded into nothing.
“Open your legs. Let me suck you,” the deep, masculine voice whispered.
He eased his knees apart, pushing his toes against the bundled sheets, spreading his legs comfortably wide. A shiver of pleasure raced up his spine. He slid his hands down to his sac.
“Yeah,” he murmured, more asleep than awake. His balls shifted.
A mouth engulfed the head of his cock. He didn’t have to move, he knew it, trusted his knowing. He simply lay there and enjoyed the wet suckling of his glans and the silken tongue delving into the oozing slit. His ass cheeks clenched. His anus itched. He wanted…something.
The face was there, the dark eyes peering up at him. Amused, teasing.
His cock pulsed, the head battering at the back of a throat, that man’s throat, swallowed, squeezed, released, deliciously held again on its way into his gullet.
A finger slipped back between his ass cheeks, searching, delving for the dark, moist hole nestled between his glutes. The digit slowly eased inside.
Groaning, he flexed his butt, his excitement growing, yet still he half-slumbered. A dream, it has to be a dream.
“Yes, you like this. You always liked it up the ass.” The smooth, masculine voice crept into his sub-conscious, pushing his excitement up a notch.
He wanted to shift, to push his hips up, to bury the deliciously wicked digit deeper into his hungry ass. Sweat trickled down his ribs. He felt that, or dreamed it.
“My sweet Daniel, let me fuck you the way we both love it,” the voice droned.
Who is Daniel?
Phew, it’s suddenly a little warmer in here, don’t you think? This was the opening of the book and wow was it fun to write. It actually went on for some time, but Janice, the editor who keeps me on the straight and narrow, had me cut a little bit of it. In all honesty, it really made the opening stronger, but it was fun trying to figure out what to cut, where and how much. LOL
So, mark your calendars. September 22, Ghost of a Chance will be available through Total E Bound. If you’re a fan of paranormal, gay hunks solving decades old mysteries, you’ll love this one.
If you’d like to keep informed about what I’ve got coming out and where, please check out the links below:
Website: http://www.my-haven2001.com
Blog: http://jude-mason.blogspot.com/
Newsletter/chat: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jude_Masons_Newsletter/
To join my mailing list, email me: jude.mason AT yahoo.ca
13.9.08
One Thousand Words
I’m a cover artist, and if you’ve read many e-books, you’ve probably seen my work. I consider myself lucky to do what I love for a living, but I’ll let you in on a little secret; I do it out of sheer laziness.
In my youth, I wanted to write -- volumes of epic science fiction and fantasy with some romance and comedy thrown in to keep it interesting. I’d diagram characters’ family trees and outline their biographies, and I’d spend hours and hours coming up with first lines and writing first chapters. I’d fill spiral-bound notebooks with my notes -- names, ages, quirks, and a miscellany of details. I even went so far as to get an honors writing degree at my university.
I wasn’t bad at writing, either. Nearly all of my teachers loved my work.
Yet here I am, putting covers on other people’s words instead of coming out with books of my own, and do you know why? Laziness.
Alongside all the written notes in my spiral-bound notebooks were quick little portrait sketches of the characters -- a shorthand for the physical character descriptions. The self-taught witch named Jinx had red hair in braids, green eyes, and a sweet disposition. Her best friend Todd had darker red hair that flopped over his forehead, blue eyes, and a puppy dog loyalty to Jinx which was plain to see and which never wavered.
Did I write any of that? No. Instead, I sketched and colored their faces.
The sketches conveyed a whole lot more in less time, less space, and fewer strokes. I was too lazy to do more than that, but I didn’t realize the significance of it. So, for many years, I continued to write first lines full of lengthy purple prose, adverbs and adjectives bursting out of every clause, the sum total of which would have been evocative of a postcard photo I might have dreamed up, drawn, or seen. Each line was written, re-written, and further revised until I got it right -- not only the details in the description, but the lyrical rhythm in the meter, the grammatical correctness. Every aspect of the writing became victim to my scrutiny.
Eventually I realized that drawing scenes were quicker. Creating an image as a writing prompt might take all of 30 seconds. Writing a scene to go with the image might take me more than 30 minutes. A book cover, 30 hours. A book manuscript, 30 weeks.
The point is, I’m a cover artist and not a writer because the deadly sin of Sloth rules over me. I admire writers because they have the patience to plot and outline a story and then write it all down in painstaking detail.
But, I say, let them worry about the 1000 actual words. Let me convey the same thing with a single image.
If I tried to write what my images could tell you, the best I could do after twice the work it would take me is 500 words.
Seriously.
11.9.08
Seasons of Lust - poem by Ann Cory
Seasons of Lust
by Ann Cory
(copyright 2007)
I.
Autumn Sunrise
As I fall into your arms
and kiss your golden skin
I am reminded
of our walks
in the park
where we fall
to the crisp ground
covered in soft, rich earth
playing games beneath
the cover of leaves.
Our bodies secluded, hidden
your fingers
between my thighs
brushing against
my sacred trove.
II
Fireside Lover
Bare as the trees
come winter
our limbs entwined
before a roaring fire
as we talk of desire.
The sparks ignite
my inner passion
for you
burning deep to
keep me warm
inside your blanket
of eternal love.
III.
Fervor of Spring
Alive with the scent
of fresh and new
Coy glances
Wild flirtations
Peeling away layers
Of our clothes
and inhibitions
as we explore
our love so strong
no longer dormant
from the kiss
of Winter.
IV
Sultry Heat of Summer
In the blaze
behind your eyes
lips of fire melt
my skin.
Love crashes
against the waves
while I lay drunk
from the liquor
between your thighs
and our glasses of
Sex on the beach.
Your nakedness,
Such beauty
to be explored
while wrapped in
my warm embrace.
10.9.08
Writer Offices
Horror Writer, Alan Rodgers
Jennifer Crusie
8.9.08
It's my Birthday!
Yep, that's right. Today is my birthday. How old am I, you ask?
In a culture that worships youth, being on the wrong side of thirty has a certain downside, but, strangely, being on the wrong side of forty has quite a few upsides. So, rather than dwelling on the wrinkles, the sags, the bags, the aches, the pains, the "cheater" glasses, the orthopedic shoes, the multi-vitamins and fiber supplements, I'll take a moment to highlight the top ten advantages of advanced years, at least ac
cording to me (and since it's my birthday, I can do what I want!)
10. I can use the expression "Back in my day" and enjoy the rolling eyes of the young 'uns.
9. I no longer worry about unsightly pimples popping up.
8. If I want to go out without a date, I go.
7. I no longer have to fumble for my I.D. when buying whiskey.
6. I now look forward to missing periods rather than worrying about missing a period.
5. I can sleep through the night. No getting up for 2 o'clock feedings.
4. I'm far more confident now than I was twenty years ago.
3. I have good credit.
2. Clothing I wore in high school is no longer old-fashioned, it is Retro! I'm cool again!
1. I feel sexier, more vibrant, and more in command of my life now that I'm not so tired and run down with the demands of young children, trying to establish myself in a career, trying to impress my friends and keep a spotlessly clean house.
It's true. My children are practically raised, I'm well established in my "day-job", I don't want friends who need to be impressed, and a little dirt around the house never hurt anyone.
But the really great part about being just a bit older? I have a bit of free time now, and y
ou know what I did with it? I became an erotic romance writer! How cool is that!
Oh, and my age - I'm 45.
7.9.08
Reasons and Seasons
One of my students was multi published long before she took my classes, so I in no way want to take that from her. What I want to share with you is how she found herself again, after being a bit lost.
Just like anything else that grows and occasionally hibernates, we as writers have our seasons, and yours will often differ from mine. Don’t trick yourself into thinking that you never have a down time…or an upswing, that you only have one speed and one growth cycle.
Our writer friend found herself several years older than when she’d first published, and she found herself widowed and floundering for something to do to take her thoughts off of her grief. One of those alone would have sufficed to throw someone off track. What saved her personally and professionally was that she didn’t try ignoring the problems, she simply breathed deeply and worked through them, writing every day, despite the depression and tiredness. She found her reason for writing.
There isn’t some magical ah-ha, folks. There isn’t a cure for what ails you or some writing savior waiting at the end of a tunnel in a filter of bright light. More often than not, writing is more like releasing what has clogged your arteries and other parts, it’s gaseous, foul, dirty, and sticky. Everything is misdirected at first and spews everywhere. And then…*big smile*…you realize that you can control the impulse somewhat. You find your reason for doing it, for looking forward to it. You either do it because you must, and you simply show up for work every day. Or you treat yourself to the privacy and indulgence of writing, and you visit it as if you were visiting a spa. Either way, you find your reason for being there, and once you’ve done that, you find the time and methods to stick with it.
The student I’d mentioned earlier showed up because writing pulled her out of her grief and supplied her with a creative outlet that paid the bills. For others in the class who were there to take notes and come back “some day”, her time, her season was right then. She’s taken a break or two from writing since that class period, but usually she’s at her desk writing something new, something that fuels her energies, not the other way around.
For me, the cooler months are my best seasons for writing. Autumn is when I gather my ideas, tighten my schedule with others, and burrow into what feeds me financially the rest of the year. I approach writing as a job, but the real reason I show up is because writing feeds my soul and makes me feel productive. Warmer months, I feel lethargic after a while. As the temperatures soar, my give-a-damn wilts.
Find your own reasons, and the seasons will reveal themselves.
If you decide you need or want a refresher class on writing erotic romance or simply the interaction with others writing in the genre, there’s a course in October through WritersOnlineClasses.com that I’ll be teaching. Info is here, Writing the Erotic Romance.
Regardless, I encourage you to find your reason and your season, to throw yourself into your writing full force and to ENJOY it!
5.9.08
Hurricanes: The ABC Game
It's that season: Hurricane Season.
If you live in South Florida (like me) or anywhere in the Gulf area, you know we have five seasons: Spring, Summer, HURRICANE season, Fall, and Winter.
We're in the midst of what is typically the worst part of Hurricane Season - the last two weeks of August and the first two weeks of September. Today, is also my younger daughter's birthday (she's 18 today so please wish her a very happy birthday). She gets upset when she gets a hurricane for her birthday, when it cancels her birthday parties, and it traps her inside a boarded up house for days and she can't even see sunlight. I can't really blame her. I wouldn't want that for my birthday, either.
I grew up in Ohio which is tornado country, not hurricane country. We didn't pay much attention to hurricanes. They seemed like a vague storm down in the tropics, a long long way away from us.
Just last week, my day job was shut down for two days because we were under a tropical storm warning for T.S. Fay. When we got back to work, of course we had a ton of messages from angry people for being out of the office. Even when we returned their calls and explained, a lot of them were still angry. They seemed to have no grasp just how dangerous a hurricane can be. They wondered why we'd have to hunker down at home instead of braving the weather to serve them.
If you're in Ohio or in another state prone to tornadoes, you know how terrible they can be. I'm sure they strike fear in your heart. They devastate neighborhoods. They weave big paths of destruction.
Imagine, now, several tornadoes all occurring in a 6 to 24 hour period, relentless, bashing, killing. Now add angry, swirling, flooding waters, sometimes so much that it fills the first story or higher of houses. This is a hurricane.
Then after the hurricane is over and you finally venture out to see the damage, it's on a wide scale. Every other house (maybe every house) in ever neighborhood for miles has roof damage, usually extensive. Most of the trees have been ripped out of the ground and flung onto houses and cars and block roads. Electricity is usually down - in some parts of town for weeks and in some for months. Water is not safe to drink so must be boiled.
It's dangerous to drive as most of the traffic signals are down, debris and trees and even live wires litter the streets. Most of the businesses are closed either due to their own damage, or their employees personal damage, or because it's not safe to drive. Or maybe because they cannot get gas. There are usually long gas and grocery lines - for weeks, but little food and gas to buy.
Usually curfews are set in place during hours of darkness. Looting takes place, unfortunately. The area is usually put under military law.
No, it's not fun, before, during or after. That's why we go into such a tizzy when we see one of these storms coming our way. When Hurricane Wilma (a category 3 storm) hit my area in 2005, my house was out of electricity for one week. It was hot, sticky, and miserable, and that was in October. It would've been much hotter had it hit in August. My employer sustained a lot of damage thus I was out of work for a week, too. Then we could only work partial days for another couple weeks. Departments had to double up desks while the damaged parts of our buildings were being rebuilt.
I'm writing this post several days before my turn thus, this is before Gustav has hit the continental US (if it does) and here is what my long-time friend who lives in Baton Rouge says about the coming storm:
| "The NO mayor has asked all tourists to evacuate now. He has suggested that residents prepare to evacuate. There are buses and trains evacuating people from NO now. We have filled up w/gas, bought supplies and are as ready as we can be. Yes, we are keeping up w/Gustav's location and wind speed. We have a cork board hurricane tracking chart that I started marking the location on last night. I am listing location and wind speed on paper to keep up with things." |
My friend went through Katrina and several other tropical storms with me when we lived in Biloxi.
Why do I call it the "ABC Game"?
As you know, the first tropical disturbance of the season starts with an "A" name and it goes down the line to Z. Rarely does it get that far but we got there the year Wilma visited my town.
As I write this, at least two tropical disturbances are lined up in the Caribbean brewing up steam. They're trying to get strong enough to get their names, starting next with "I", and then with "J".
And then we start watching, and waiting, and praying they'll bypass us and leave our homes intact. At the moment, I'm watching Gustav, Hanna, and tropical disturbances #1 and #2. Fun fun fun.
I'm not only for my family and neighbours in Florida, but for my friends in Biloxi, New Orleans, and Baton Rouge, and for my cousins on Florida's Gulf Coast.
So why don't we move out of this zone?
I would in a heart beat was it only up to me. But my hubby can't take the cold and he gets to play year round softball here. Besides, where else is totally safe? Way north has blizzards. Ohio and Nebraska had bad tornadoes. California where my mom used to live had earthquakes. One of my friends thinks Chattanooga is pretty free of storms (she was only looking with the US). But I don't think everyone would squeeze into one city.
I haven't written a book featuring a storm for TEB, although I have written one that's out with one of my other publishers. Unfortunately, although it was written before Hurricanes Katrina and Wilma hit (I lived through several hurricanes when hubby and I served in the US Air Force in Biloxi, Mississippi so I'm well versed in them) it was due to be published right after. Some readers weren't too happy reading about a disaster as they lived through one.
Here's a blurb of my most recent TEB release, "Submissive Dreams", in which the only storm is between the hero and heroine.
Excerpt: Submissive Dreams
By Ashley Ladd
Stacey disguises herself to fool her ex-husband, the Internet king of porn, but he's not the only one who gets a shock.
Stacey Cooke can't believe her eyes when she sees her ex-husband Brand on the Internet—and he's the new king of porn. She divorced him for being too boring in bed and out and so she's stunned. Much worse than stunned, she's jealous and it hurts. She wonders if she gave up on him too early.
She can't stop peeking at her ex with all his film partners. When an ad pops up for a new partner to have sex with Brand on film, her friend Lilli persuades her to apply. Donning a mask, disguising her voice, Stacey decides to see if she's still in love with him.
“You’re not gonna fuckin’ believe this,” Lilli whistled long and loud while she shook her head. The late afternoon sunlight filtering through the grimy windows glinted off her multi-coloured hair streaked blonde and red through her auburn locks.
Used to her friend’s over-ebullience, Stacey Cooke gave an obligatory smile. However, she didn’t blink an eye. “Uh huh.”
“No, I mean it. This is fuckin’ unbelievable! Sit down. This is wild.”
With an arched brow Stacey double checked her seating arrangement. “I am sitting. So what is it I won’t believe?”
Reverently, Lilli placed her laptop atop Stacey’s legs. “Look closely. Recognize anyone?”
Stacey gulped. Naked bodies writhed together, kissing, caressing, shagging their arses off… Women were tied up while men enjoyed their wicked way with them.
“Uh, why do you want me to look at this?” Despite herself, she couldn’t stop staring at the huge hard cocks fucking the moist pussies, from creaming her own panties.
“Come on. Don’t you see it?” Lilli jumped up and down as if panicked. She jabbed a finger at the screen.
“Look at the man’s face. Don’t you recognize him?” Her friend’s voice reverberated with frustration and excitement.
Stacey hadn’t exactly been studying faces. Those muscles, those cocks were mouth-watering scrumptious and she was squirming on her chair.
Lilli tapped her pointy, chipped fingernail on a man’s face
Stacey’s eyes dilated on the face she knew so well. It went blurry before her eyes and her heart skipped several beats. She couldn’t breathe. It couldn’t be. She had to be hallucinating. Or this was a trick. Was it April 1?
“That’s
The caption under the bald-headed man proclaimed him to be “Tyrannosaurus Rex”, but it was unmistakably her ex-husband—on steroids. Or maybe some great graphic air brushing was in play. Still, she laboured in disbelief as she struggled for air. “Th-that couldn’t be him. He’d never, ever…” Gobsmacked, she couldn’t finish the sentence.
Lilli leaned close enough to kiss the screen. “Dominate women? Tie them up? Shag them in public? Be a porn star?”
All of the above. Stacey couldn’t help herself and so she stole another look at the man’s face. It certainly looked like Brand but she still couldn’t wrap her mind around all this. Hell no! Her husband couldn’t be fucking other women. Especially not so many other women where everybody could see him. “They say everyone has a double…”
“If it was me, I’d be finding out for sure.” Lilli waved a dismissive hand and paced before her.
The hurtful truth slapped her between the eyes, and she dragged in a deep breath. She uttered, “We’re divorced. He can do whatever the hell he pleases.”
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4.9.08
How to have sex in an office elevator
Noodling helpful hints on a number of sexual activities. If one of your fantasies has always been to have sex in an office elevator, look n o further for helpful tips and hints.
Whenever you’re hired into a new job, Human Resources usually gives you a nifty little handbook that serves as a guide on how to get ahead in your new office. I don’t think having an office is affair is one of them, since most companies frown on interoffice sex. Bur if the man in the office next to you turns you on, makes your panties wet and your nipples hard, and you just have to give into the urge, you might try the elevator. Having sex in the office elevator is one way you can give in to your urges in about the amount of time it takes you to finish your coffee break.
Here’s what you’ll need: an empty office elevator and tissues or moist wipes.
Step1
First thing, if you can wipe down the walls, handrails and floor of the elevator. Of course, sex in office elevators often happens on the spur of the moment, meaning you might not always have a stash of moist wipes or tissues with you. However, if you do, taking a quick minute to wipe any surfaces you may be touching will go a long way toward making your this a more sanitary experience.
Step2
Hit the "stop" button. Unless you're planning to be extraordinarily quick--and confident you can actually pull it off--you don't want to risk the doors opening on the seventh floor to find your boss waiting there. Or worse yet, a staring group of clients.
Step3
Remain partially clothed. There's no reason to get completely naked in an office elevator. This is a really fast activity and you don't want to draw it out by having to put all your clothes back on afterward. Besides, how do you explain the wrinkles in your business suit from lying there on the elevator floor.
Step4
Work with the handrail, not against it. Sure, it's uncomfortable to be pushed up against the elevator wall, only to find a cold metal rail pressing on your spine. Instead, use the handrail as a perch to sit on or as a way to get your leg raised to a strategic level.
Step5
Leave no trace of your activities when you leave the elevator. This means picking up everything that may have made its way onto the floor, such as underwear, jewelry and used condoms (although one hopes your partner will be courteous enough to take care of that little chore himself. If the elevator has mirrored walls, rub off any markings you might have left (use your clothes, if need be). And no leaving lip marks!!!!
Warning!!!!!!!!!!
If you're planning to have sex in the office elevator, be sure you're physically able to do so. There isn't much room to lie down in an elevator, and you probably wouldn't want to do that anyway. That means sex is going to happen standing up and that normally requires some physical agility.
So the next time the hunk who gets you hot enough to explode says, “Got a minute?” Now you know what you can do with it.
3.9.08
Sexy is where you look
A lot of women like men with big bicep muscles. Others go for a tight tush. Others find the sight of six-pack abs makes them swoon. For me, it's the forearm. There's something about a man with muscular forearms emerging from rolled up shirt cuffs that sends shivers down my spine. The important thing to remember is that it isn't always the obvious thing that appeals to us and sends our thoughts winging their way to the, ah, bedroom.
In the same way, erotic is also very individual. Sure, there are the usual bodily suspects, but there are also places on our body that can heat us up and which are not initially obvious. The nape of the neck is obvious, but how about a lick along the bottom of our feet? A kiss of one of our lower ribs? The rubbing of an unshaven chin against the small of our back? I'm almost purring when I think of it.
One thing I really like about being a romance author is that it has forced me to look at the whole body as a precursor to physical intimacy, not just the genitals. Each time I sit down to write a romantic scene, I try very hard to come up with something different, and that means exploring the potential of parts of our bodies, of thoughts, of situations, that I may not have considered before. I honestly believe that these thought exercises have helped me in my own marriage, by bringing spice and an added sense of difference to the relationship. And I wonder whether any of you readers have also found the same thing.
Have you read anything in a romance that you later tried out with your partner? And how did it go? Would you do it again? C'mon, you're among friends here. We promise we won't tell anyone else. ::wink::
2.9.08
The BEST review is when I get an email from a reader! As an author it is such a joy to hear that my book has given someone somewhere delight! Second to this is the warm rush from reading a good review.