Savage Love NOW on sale (Crissy's 1st blog)

Can you believe that tomorrow is Halloween and it’s the end of another month? Now I'm posting this actually on the 29th here but over in the UK it is early early morning. That way over there you can read read with your morning coffee ot tea if you perfer!

Hi all. Let me introduce myself…my name is Crissy Smith and I am a new author with TEB. I will be blogging over here on the 30th of every month! So I’m sure we will get to know more about each other as we continue.
Here’s my BIG news of late…

My first release was just MONDAY…and I am so excited!!!!

October has been a wonderful month for me. Not only is my book out, Halloween is my fav holiday, I got a contract for my second book, and my daughter turned ten yesterday. Woo busy time!!!

For my first blog I would like to share an excerpt from Savage Love one of the six books out from the Halloween Bite Me! Collection.
I hope you enjoy… and be safe tomorrow but have loads of fun!

Kelly Walker will do anything to catch her sister's killer, including entering a world she'd had no idea existed, and giving her heart to a man not completely human.Kelly Walker is determined to bring down the man who killed her sister. One year later and there still hasn't been an arrest made. She knows there is an on-going investigation headed by the attractive and intriguing Alex Gray. The only man who has ever been able to touch something deep inside her she'd rather not know about. Their attraction is almost animalistic.Alex Gray has tried for a year to keep Kelly out of the investigation he's given two years of his life for. But when he finds her trapped with the man he knows has killed before, he must risk everything to protect her. Showing her what he really is and what they are up against could cost him the one thing he's waited his entire life for—a mate

Kelly wasn’t happy, but she left the bar. What was she going to do anyway? Walk up to Craig and introduce to herself as the sister of the woman he’d killed a year ago. He would probably pull out a gun and shoot her where she stood.
Shaking her head, Kelly walked to her car. A sound from behind her made her stop and twirl around. No one was there, but the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Digging through her purse, she found her keys and gripped them tightly in her hand. She looked back at the door. She could go back inside and have Alex walk her to her car.
No, he might think she was making it up to be alone with him. Biting her lip, she turned back towards the car and jumped in surprise. The man in front of her was over six feet tall, had on a long blank trench coat, and was snarling at her. As he reached out for her, Kelly backed away. He moved faster and grabbed her upper arm.
He quickly pulled her in the alley behind the bar. She could see three men waiting.
Kelly started to kick, but a hand covered her mouth and an arm went around her neck, cutting off her air. Then she was standing in front of the man she had come to see.
Craig Lambert leaned forward and sniffed her neck.
Kelly tried to kick out again, but the man holding her was just too strong.
"I love the smell of fear," Lambert said in a deep voice that made her stomach roll.
He straightened, and she could make out his facial features in the dim light of the alley. Just like the first time she’d seen a picture of him, she was amazed at how normal he looked. In fact, up close, he was quite attractive. No wonder why her sister had been interested in him.
"I saw you watching me. Do I know you?"
Kelly shook her head, unable to talk with a hand over her mouth.
"No? You do have something familiar about you though." He ran thin, bony fingers over her cheek, and Kelly felt tears threaten to fall. When his thumb flicked over the pulse in her neck, she could have sworn his eyes turned red.
Eyes wide, Kelly watched him as he leaned forward. His mouth opened and his teeth, which had been normal, started to lengthen. Her scream was barely audible as terror she’d never felt before shook her body.
Before he reached her, there was a howl and something knocked into them. Kelly went down on her side and rolled away from the two men. She heard someone call out, "wolf," as she scrambled to hide against the wall of the building.
The scene before her was like something in a movie. A grey-and-white wolf stood in the mouth of the alley as the four men spread out with guns drawn. Kelly didn’t know what to do, so she pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hoping to stay invisible.
The first shot rang out and Kelly jumped. The wolf charged into the alley, attacking the wrist of the one who’d shot at him. While he was busy, another man aimed for the wolf, but the animal moved just in time and sidestepped another bullet.
The first man was holding his arm as he fell away from the wolf. Kelly watched as blood gushed from the wound and dripped to the dirty concrete. She felt her stomach turn at the sight and steeled herself not to get sick. That wouldn’t help the situation at all.
Then the wolf jumped on the other guy, his sharp canine teeth clamping down on the man’s throat. Kelly closed her eyes as the man’s scream turned into a gurgle but the sound of movement had her opening her eyes again. She watched as the wolf released the man and stalked towards the other two men. The one who had held her, and the one who had killed her sister.
The men exchanged looks before jumping straight up in the air. The wolf charged at the same time but met only air as the two men disappeared.
Kelly wasn’t aware she was sobbing until the wolf turned, and she met his stare. She’d never seen a real wolf before, only on television, but she knew this wasn’t just an ordinary wolf.
He stepped forward, and Kelly held out a hand. "St…st…ayyyy," she stuttered. Her hand shook and she could practically hear her own heart beat. The wolf stepped closer.
Hoping this was just a bad dream, she closed her eyes, counted to ten, then opened them, but the wolf was still there. Standing in front of her, his head tilted to one side, blood dripping from his mouth.
Kelly moved onto her knees and tried to crawl away. The wolf growled, and she froze in her spot. The growl vibrated the air around her. Obviously, the wolf didn’t want her to move. So she remained on her hands and knees against the old brick building, watching as he closed the distance between them. When he stepped in front of her, she once again got a look at the eyes.
A sense of calmness went over her as she looked in those deep grey eyes. She just stared, as she had done not more than half an hour ago. "Alex," she whispered.
The wolf moved and she felt his soft fur against her skin.
The back door of the club swung open, and they both jumped. Before she could blink, the wolf hunched down and growled. Kelly felt a wave of relief as Marcus stepped out the door.
Kelly watched Alex’s partner take in the scene before him. The wolf was still crouched down and growling, and Kelly was still on her knees. She looked over to where the men had been but they were gone. There were no bodies or anyone but them in the alley. No blood or sign of what had taken place. If Kelly hadn’t seen everything with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have known anything had even taken place.
Marcus closed the door and turned towards her. Kelly started to stand, but the wolf turned his head and snapped at her.

I hope you enjoyed the little tease and decide to give the book a try!!!

Crissy Smith

Letting the WILD out!

http://www.freewebs.com/crissysmith

Gypsies, Knights and...damn fine looking men!

OK, OK. I'm late again! It's been one of those days already! I'm so brain dead that I couldn't even remember my phone number to give to the service guy when I dropped off my car. So there's not a prayer that you'll get witty, creative writing on the blog today.

Instead, the Renaissance Festival has just concluded in our neck of the woods, so I thought I would share some of what I saw while visiting every weekend. Some of the players got such enjoyment out of their roles, you thought you really were living in the Middle Ages.




OK, so I didn't see Adrian Paul at the Ren Fest. I can always WISH I saw him!

You still have time to order "Twelfth of Never", my Halloween short story from TEB with a ghost and lots and lots of sex. What could be better? (OK, besides candy?)
Have a great day!
Bobbie

October is upon us...and actually almost over

I love Halloween. Go figure, the vampire girl's favorite holiday is Halloween. I know. Shocker. But I can't help it. We get to dress up and strangers give us candy. What is not to love about this holiday.

Not to mention scary movies abound! Vampire movies (of course) are my favorite, but I enjoy Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, and other standard slasher films of the 80's. Hitchcock movies are also quite common on late night television this month. Psycho is one of the best Hitch movies ever made. It is so creepy, and so good.

Mr Rebel and I love October movie nights. Curling up on the couch together, snuggled under the covers with a bowl of popcorn and M&Ms watching scary movies. At 28 years old I have to admit I still watch movies between splayed fingers. I get scared, I jump, I squig out, and the Mr. loves it. Especially when we are watching a movie he knows I have seen a thousand times. Can't help it, The Exorcist is horrifying.

So what will you be doing for Halloween? Are you ready for the most frightening time of year...because you know Christmas is now wright around the corner.

*Shudder

XoXoXo
Dakota Rebel

The Kinky Code

The internet has truly transformed the options for those who want to get kinky. If you’re definitely into something that strays a little outside the mainstream or just curious to why some people like leather so much, sooner or later, you’re probably going to end up on the internet looking for the latest toy, a new story to read or just a bit more information.

But as soon as you hit a kinky website or message board regardless of if you’re there OOC – Out of curiosity - or if you’ve BTDT – Been there, done that – all before, at some point you’re likely to stumble on a few abbreviations that don’t make a damn bit of sense ro you.

Since I don’t have any excerpts to share with you this month, I thought I’d post a mini beginners guide to the kinky code. So here goes.

A brief introduction to WISTWD – What it is that we do. (With a few things thrown in from the romance genre, because in my mind kink and romance have always gone in hand in hand.)

I’d like to start off by saying there is no OTW – One true way. Be very suspicious of anyone who tells you that real submissives or real dominants all do X. Real submissives and real dominants are first and foremost real people. Everyone does things they way that rocks their particular boat.

There’s a saying – For some people 20 lashes is a terrible punishment, for others it’s just the start of a good night. Anyone with any sense will tell you that - YMMV – Your mileage may vary. What one person loves bores another to tears. Not everyone gets the same thing out of the same experience. Sometimes you just have to admit that YKISMK – Your kink is not my kink or more politely YKIOK,IJNMK – Your kink is okay, it’s just not my kink.

Let's start with a few basics I think everyone knows:

BDSM - The big catch all acronym – Bondage and discipline, Dominance and submission, Sadism and masochism. The only problem with it is, it doesn’t really tell you much. If you buy a book that says it contains BDSM, you could end up reading just about anything.

Breaking it down, you have B&D or BD – Bondage and Discipline. If it’s being tied up or spanked that rocks your boat, this might be where you’re interests lie in the kinky world. To my mind, it’s the external end of the kinky spectrum. It’s all about what happens to your body.

D/s or DS – Dominance and submission – on the other hand, is what I think of as the mental aspect of the lifestyle. It’s more about the way the people think. That’s not to say there isn’t quite a bit of other kink associated with it, but what a lot of people don’t realise is that there doesn’t have to be. It’s just about the way a dominant personality and a submissive personality interact, even if they don't own a single piece of leather.

S&M – Sadism and Masochism - This one is something that doesn’t really fit with the internal / external kink idea. It’s about pain on the outside that morphs into pleasure on the inside. And again, it might involve D/s or bondage, but it doesn’t have to. A submissive isn’t necessarily a masochist, a masochist isn’t necessarily a submissive. Just because one person likes being tied up doesn’t mean they like to be whipped and vice versa.

That moves us on to the most important bit:

The one thing I think everyone should avoid is anything NC – Non-consensual. There are two acronyms that are all about this. If you’re playing you should be either following one or the other of these philosophies - RACK – Risk Aware Consensual Kink or SSC – Safe Sane and Consensual. They pretty much mean the same thing – don’t hurt anyone unless they want you to.

One of the big differences you’ll come across if you’re reading about kinky relationships is time scales:

24/7 or 24/7/365 – It’s used in the vanilla world as well, but in kinky conversation it’s usually specifically taken to mean that the kinky aspects of a relationship don’t stay in the bedroom. The people might be in question are in a APE – Absolute Power Exchange or a TPE – Total Power Exchange or they might not, but in some way their kinks effect every moment of every day.

This can involve CIS – Complete and Irrevocable submission – where the submissive in the relationship says that this is it, they are making a lifetime commitment to the lifestyle, and often to one particular dominant. This type of relationship is sometimes referred to as M/s – Master/slave.

At the other end of the scale is an EPE – Erotic power exchange. It’s not a lifestyle, but it is a very enjoyable way to arrange your sex life. As well as the kink, you’ll hear people in this sort of relationship talking about their R/L or RL – their real life, where they may have a completely different personality, different limits and a completely different relationship with their partner.

And then there are the more specific aspects of different relationships.

Many people enjoy EC – Enforced Chastity, complete with a CB – Chastity belt. (Not to be confused with the slightly longer acronym CBT, which is cock and ball torture. Good typing is very important with acronyms!) Every person wearing a chastity belt needs a KH – Key holder. As you can probably guess, it’s the submissive who usually ends up with the belt and the dominant who ends up with the key – and complete control over their partners sexuality.

A lot of people also enjoy CP – Corporal Punishment. Of course, just because it’s called a punishment, doesn’t mean it can’t be used for play as well. The person OTK – Over the knee – might well be enjoying every movement of it.

It’s quite possible in that case that the person in question is a SAM – a Smart Arsed Masochist. A submissive who breaks their dominant’s rules just for the joy of being punished for it.

A lot of people would consider this to be TFTB – Topping from the bottom – a submissive who tries to manipulate the scene to get they want rather than really giving control over to the dominant. And a good dominant might decide that a good hard spanking is a privilege the masochist has to earn in the future.

Of course, not all dominants are great dominants. And even the best can be struck down with TD – Top’s disease. You know that saying that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely? Well, a dominant who has complete power over another human being sometimes forgets that they are human to. Top’s disease is a belief that they are all power, always right or don't have to remember how much you love the submissive under your care

Then there are a whole series of abbreviations about just who is what in the relationship. There are FLR – Female led relationships. And there are other relationships where the dominant is an old fashioned HOH – Head of the household and the submissives in the house are TIH – Taken in hand.

On a similar theme, you’ll find a lot of erotic romance books marked with some combination of m/m or m/f or f/f or any combination there of. Most readers now know that the m and f are male and females and they tell you what combinations of sexes will be meeting up for some fun during the course of the book. But, perhaps fewer people are aware that in the kinky way of abbreviations, a capital is a dominant and a lower case letter is a submissive. So an M/f book is likely to turn out very differently to a F/m book.

I think that’s all the major bases covered. If you didn’t know before, you do now, and next time you are on the net and talking to someone who is U&A(&LI) Used and Abused (and Loving It) I hope you find one or two of the abbreviations useful.

A final point, it’s always good to remember that kinky doesn’t necessarily mean short term. Kinky people can want to find someone to live HEA - Happily ever after - with as much as everyone else. There are a lot of people who like leather, but would also like a LTR – Long term relationship – I know the people in my books do.

On the subject of my books, you can probably find a bit of everything above in one or another of them. The first one is coming out December 8th. It’s just hit the coming soon section of the TEB - Total-e-bound website – it's an M/m erotic romance featuring a 24/7 D/s LTR, and a little bit of M/m/m, as well as a few bits of B&D and a HEA ending. You can see the blurb here.

And that's it. Did I miss out any of the obvious ones? Leave your favourite off my little list? Don't be afriad to le me know :)

Kim Dare
Kink, love and a happy ending.

A Great Big Juicy Bite

In this part of the world, it's time for a celebration of the harvest! Pumpkins, squash, apples... Fun!

And while it's a celebration of abundance, how about a time to celebrate you? And how about taking a moment to slow down and think about taking a great big, juicy, delicious bite of...life?

Is there some adventure your soul longs for? I'm not talking, necessarily, about jumping out of an airplane (although I'm game if you are!) or bungee jumping or even racing a NASCAR. I'm talking about a big, juicy bite of something that appeals to you!

That could mean painting a wall or a picture. Writing a book or penning a journal. It could mean traveling somewhere new and exciting, or even trying a new place for dinner or a drink. It could mean taking up a new sport or a new hobby. It could mean baking something new.

For me, my great big, juicy bite is about...owls! Tonight, I'm heading out to "band" Northern Saw-whet owls. I have no idea who else will be part of this adventure. I have no idea how you do it. The only thing I do know...it will be cold in that part of the Rockies at night, and it will be dark. And it's something I've never done before. I'm excited and nervous.

I could easily have said "No" to the call to adventure, after all, it's a long way from home and it's cold and... You get the picture. There are always a dozen, legitimate reasons not to do so something new, something outside your comfort zone. But if you were to set aside that reluctance and to take a great big, juicy bite of something, what would it be?

Let me know what you decide!

Have to run now...I need down gloves and a headlamp for tonight's adventure. Let's hope it's a hoot! (Sorry, couldn't resist!)

Love, Sierra

Sierra Cartwright

http://www.sierracartwright.com/

http://sierracartwright.blogspot.com/

A Howlin' Good Time

As Halloween approaches, my thoughts turn to ghosts, goblins, and my favorites, werewolves. Are they stuff of myths and legends? The result of psychosis. Or...real?

As I was researching werewolves this week for a new story I'm plotting, I came across the story of the Henrico County Werewolf. It is a well known local legend although no one seems to know its origins. The creature is only seen during the full moon and has been known to howl. It also chases people although it has never killed or hurt any humans. Six-feet tall, it's covered with grayish white hair. It can stand on its hind legs or run on all four legs. It has a human like body but a face like an animal.

This, along with all the books, movies, and stories told around the campfire when camping spurred my imagination. So, when I was looking for inspiration for a tale of seductive suspense, it's no surprise that werewolves came to mind.

But, not just any old werewolf. This one is of man's own making. As we know from the media and popular fiction, the government has the unfortunate habit of dabbling in biological warfare. Both real and fictional mad scientists are endeavoring to harness the power of ebola or, in my story, lycanthropy. Needless to say, these diseases weren't created to be servants of men and tend to have nightmarish results.

Which is how Eclipse, California came into being.

As you drive through town, it looks like any other middle class neighborhood. Nice houses, well-kept lawns, and a particularly well-stocked meat section at the grocery store. The only difference, the population of Eclipse are outcasts, nearly prisoners in their little town. For, once a month, at the full moon, the inhabitants turn into werewolves. For public safety, they've been isolated from the rest of the world.

Until Michael O'Toole inherited a mansion on the outskirts of town. Unfortunately, the pack wasn't content to let bygones be bygones, and someone had the smart idea of having Mike join in the fun.

Too bad no one asked him first.

I'm currently working on the character who will give Mikey a run for his money and claim his heart for her own.

Meanwhile, I want to leave you with a few more sightings, just to make sure you stay awake and glued to your windows during the next full moon.


Perhaps one of the most famous cases is told by Delburt Gregg of Greggton, Texas. In 1958, she was alone on a dark and stormy night. Her husband was away, and she had of the night, she awoke to the sound of scratching at the screen. When the lightning flashed, a "huge, shaggy, wolf-like creature" was "clawing at the screen and glaring ... with baleful, glowing, slitted eyes." As she jumped from the bed to grab a flashlight to get a closer look, the creature dashed away and hid in a large collection of bushes. Ms. Gregg didn't fall asleep right away and was stunned to later see a tall man walk down the road and into the darkness.

In 1936, Mark Schackelman claimed to have seen a six-foot tall, hair-covered creature digging in an Indian mound near Jefferson, Wisconsin. The creature had a large muzzle and included both ape and dog characteristics. With pointed ears and human-like hands, the creature smelled to high heaven with the scent of dead meat. The next night, Schackelman saw the same creature and heard it making a strange "three-syllable growling". When he began to pray, the creature quickly turned and dashed away.

Then, there's the Beast of Bray Road. On October 31, a young woman was driving along Bray Road near Delavan, Wisconsin when she felt her car jump as if the right tire had hit an object. After stopping the car, she saw a dark and hairy figure running toward her. She sped away only to have the creature jump onto the car's trunk. Due to the slick metal, the beast was unable to gain a hold of the vehicle. When returning with a friend, the duo saw a large dark shape standing near the side of the road.

When the report got out, several other people also claimed to have seen the strange creature. In 1989, Lorianne Endrizzi was traveling along the same road when she caught site of a figure kneeling at the side of the road. When she slowed the car, she claimed the creature stared at her through the passenger window. She estimated the beast was about six feet away and had grayish brown hair with large fangs and pointed ears. She also claimed the creature had a snout and human-like hands. A local farmer also saw the creature, but took it to be a gigantic dog.

Real or Fiction?

What do you believe?

Top Ten Reasons why Trick or Treating is Better than Sex

It's almost Halloween and I couldn't resist one more top ten list. Of course, I can't forget that I have a fantastic new release this month with co-author Jude Mason called Feral Heat, a paranormal, changeling, m/m/f extravaganza, so be sure and check it out here!


Business out of the way, on to this lists!

Top Ten Reasons why Trick or Treating is Better than Sex


10) You are guaranteed to get at least a little something in the sack.
9) If you get tired, you can wait 10 minutes and go at it again.
8) The uglier you look, the easier it is to get some.
7) You don't have to compliment the person who gives you some.
6) It's O.K. when the person you're with fantasizes you're someone else, because you are.
5) Forty years from now you'll still enjoy candy.
4) If you don't like what you get, you can always go next door.
3) It doesn't matter if the kids hear you moaning and groaning.
2) Less guilt the morning after.
1) YOU CAN DO THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD.

I found this yesterday on a Yahoo blog and it was so funny I had to share it. Erin Zimmer put together this list of our top 10 Halloween treats that nobody wants... (She wrote the commentary,I just laughed!)

Toothbrushes

Dentists and orthodontists should not be allowed to celebrate Halloween if they're going to get all tooth doctory on us.

Raisins

Little boxes of stuck-together shriveled globs are not what little kids schlep around the neighborhood for all night.

Candy Corn

The most polarizing candy of all. The fruitcake of Halloween; it just never goes away. If you love them, fine. But don't subject the rest of us haters to the sickeningly sweet triangle that tastes like neither candy nor corn.

Smarties and Necco Wafers

These chalky candies are supposedly "fruit-flavored," but no fruit I know tastes like dust -- and makes everything eaten after taste like dust, too.

Dum Dum Lollipops

Usually, foods on a stick are yummy (corn dogs, ice pops), but Dum Dums just can't be included on that list. Not even if they were breaded and deep-fried and served at a fair.

Apples

Long before "poisoned candy" scares, evil people were handing out apples instead of candy on Halloween. This disappointing "treat" is the main reason to avoid unwrapped food while trick-or-treating.

Tootsie Rolls

It looks like chocolate and sort of smells like chocolate, but the mini brown tubes are not real chocolate. They taste like watered-down chocolate, and have a chewy texture that will strip the fillings right off your molars.

Miscellaneous, Wrapped Hard Candies

Halloween is supposed to be a holiday for young people, not senior citizens who suck on hard candies all day.

Laffy Taffy

I do not laffy when I get these. I sobby. I get depressedy. Because it gets all stucky to my teethy and doesn't even taste that goody.

.

Anything Fun-Sized

Who started calling it this? Since when is one bite fun?! Give us the rich houses with the sprawling driveways and full-sized candy bars any day. Portion control doesn't need to start this young.

Happy Halloween everyone!!!

Series Angst: Guardian's Redemption

When I first set out to write about the Storm Lords, I had in mind a series of books. The story arc centers around identical quadruplet princes and their fight to save their homeworld, Tanselm. I figured on four books at first. But after book one, their uncle intrigued me. Considering that the Storm Lords control magic and live a long time, I had no problem imagining a romance for their virile uncle, Arim.

My series started with another publisher. The first book came out in Nov 2005. Books two, three, and four came out in 2006. Every one of the books hit the Fictionwise bestseller list and did very well with the publisher. Readers seemed to like it, and I was in heaven.

Then I made the mistake of not finishing. I wanted to do other projects. I did. I wrote paranormals, contemporaries and futuristics. A few months went by. Then I stopped writing for that publisher. Dilemma time.

I desperately wanted to finish my series. Readers wanted to know how it ended. Who would eventually be the overking? Would the bad guy die in the end? How the heck would it all wrap up? So I wrote the last book over a year ago. Problem was, I needed to publish it with another publisher, so the book definitely had to be a stand-alone, as well as an ending to a series.

Easier said than done. I deleted whole chapters. Rewrote the sucker twice. I had a reader read the thing, something I've never done before the book was published. Rae gave me some valuable insights and a new beginning to run with.

Do I think it works now? I hope so. I love the story, and even as I finished the book, two secondary characters that played a large part in the overall story arc are crying out for their own books. But at this point they'd have to be completely separate stories. I really am involved in other things, but I feel good that I finally wrapped up the Storm Lords.

My biggest concern is that people who've never read the series will forgo this book. This is NOT book five, but it is the fifth book, if that makes sense. Check out the blurb and enjoy!

They call him Guardian of Storm and Killer of Shadow, a magic user more powerful than any Tanselm has ever seen. Yet for all his power, Arim Valens has let his nemesis and ex-lover, Lexa, slip through his grasp time and time again. For three hundred years Aim and the sexy Dark Lord have battled each other. Only one thing could bring them together. Tanselm--a magical land filled with riches, power, and an underlying sentience overflowing with love for creatures both Light and Dark. To save Tanselm from an encroaching evil, Arim will risk everything. And it will take all his power and compassion to heal hurts both old and new, and to redeem himself in the eyes of the only woman he's ever truly loved.

To read an excerpt, click here.

Guardian's Redemption is coming to Total E-Bound November 10th. I can't wait! A new Storm Lords book, a return to a magical world and a conclusion to a story arc that's been in limbo for a year. And I even love the cover! It's all good.

Marie
www.marieharte.com

Makin' a list and checkin' it twice.

Gonna find out who's naughty not nice.

The Top Ten Fetishes



Last month I wrote about female fantasies. This time I’m heading down a parallel path. A popular site polled its readers, both male and female, and compiled a list of the Top Ten Fetishes. Of course, you know I’m absolutely delighted to share their findings with you.

Coming in (pardon the horrible pun) at Number Ten: Stomachs
Taut stomach. Those words send a quiver down many a female spine. Turns out it does the same to many a male spine as well. We both like to nibble, to lick, to slide our hands over a firm belly. Thankfully, some men who responded also thought it sexy to see a woman with a little pot belly.



Sitting at Number Nine: Body Piercings
This fetish is most popular with the eighteen to thirty-five year olds who say they like to see piercings of bellybuttons, tongues, nipples and eyebrows. Penis piercings are also very popular. I’m not sure if that means to have a penis piercing or to experience one through sex. Many respondents admitted that not only were the piercings acceptable, for a few, they were a prerequisite.




Residing at Number Eight: Leather, Rubber, Latex and Vinyl
The males who listed this as a favourite fetish weren’t interested in the feel of these materials as much as the pornographic look of them. Although they may choose to settle down with a good girl, they will always love the ‘bad girl’ look. Men adore the tease of a woman moving around in anything tight and shiny.



Women love the look, the feel, the smell of men in leather. This one definitely gets my vote. Why isn’t it Number One?




Settling in at Number Seven: Domination and Submission
Well, well, well, I really like this one. Women love to dominate and men love to submit. And anywhere but the boardroom, that seems to be happening. Men like to be spanked, ordered around like slaves and many of them like to be penetrated with a strap-on. Women like to make that happen for them. Too bad the domination and superior power don’t happen everywhere. That would be mighty fine.



Taking Number Six: Feet and Hands
Men, more than women, seem to have a foot fixation. They love licking, sucking, kissing and biting the feet of the female. Some men admitted they couldn’t date a woman if she had ugly toes or feet.

For some women, it was a man’s hand that got them off. They said they could orgasm just from sucking a man’s fingers. They likened it to the pleasure of having a penis in their mouth.



Resting at Number Five: Fingernails and Lipstick
It sounds like a throwback to a bygone era, but the love of red lipstick and long shiny scarlet nails is alive and well. Thriving in fact. Men confessed that they enjoy the feel of those sharp fingernails running down their backs.

And the lipstick? Must be a fetish for the Victorian era because the male respondents revealed how they love to kiss a woman, smudging her crimson lipstick over both their faces. It was akin to having sex with a harlot.



Standing at Number Four: Braids, Ponytails and Pigtails
Long, straight, curly, fuzzy, blond, brunette or redhead-they were all mentioned as favourites, but why braids, ponytails and pigtails? Part of the attraction is men’s love of younger women and the images of the schoolgirl these three styles project. Many talked about the incredible sensation of long hair teasing and stroking their bare skin.



Some women love a shiny bald head, especially rubbing it while in a passionate embrace.



Situated at Number Three: Water
Both men and women spoke of an obsession with water during sex. Many wanted to be in the rain or under the steamy spray of a shower, while others only needed to hear running water to enjoy sex.



Lying at Number Two: Golden Showers
For something that seems so forbidden and lewd, it must be more prevalent than one would imagine to hold the number two position. The golden shower proved to be incredibly popular, more often than not with men. Having a woman urinate on them is seen as foreplay, while others feel the act of peeing on a woman is a powerful way to push themselves to arousal. This fetish goes back to domination and submission. Either you submit to someone or they succumb to your desires.


Holding at Number One: Voyeurism and Exhibitionism
Many men acknowledged that they couldn’t come with their partner unless they were watching porn or another couple having sex. They stated that if either of those stimuli was present and their partner wasn’t there, they had to masturbate.

Although only a very small number of women said they needed to see others having sex to enjoy it themselves, quite a few liked to be watched while making love.



So there you have it. The Top Ten Fetishes. Did I hit on any of yours?

Thanks to askmen.com for the wonderful list.

Kaenar
Tales to seduce and entice…
www.kaenar.com

Check out my latest release
The Harder They Come
www.total-e-bound.com

What's important to you?

Most people know I run a motel in my everyday life. It’s only two and a bit hours from Sydney so we get a lot of trade on the weekends, particularly if the sun is shining. That’s when the tourists seem to come out of the woodwork and flock down to Huskisson, our little bit of the southern New South Wales coast here in Australia. In some ways, despite my age, I think I may have been a wee bit naïve when we took over four years ago. Not any longer! Lol It’s amazing what I’ve learned since I’ve been here.

I think I’ve seen every human characteristic imaginable walk through the door of our reception. I don’t think human nature will ever surprise me again. But the thing that does surprise me is what people feel are important to them. Important enough to either drive miles back to pick up when fuel prices are at a premium. Or important enough to waste the money on postage to have the item returned to them. And let me tell you, some of the things would surprise you.

Clothing is invariably left behind, tucked away in the wardrobe in the room. Unless it’s a substantial amount of clothing, most people either don’t remember they left them here, or figure it’s cheaper to go out and buy new clothing. Sometimes it will be good leather jackets or fantastic evening frocks that you can tell are brand new. We do our best to contact the person and let them know their stuff is here, but more often than not, they just tell us to forget about it. I’m sure the Goodwill shop enjoys the donations our motel makes on a regular basis.



But how about this? Think the owner would want me to post it back to her?


This is an actual photo of one of the many sex toys left at our motel. And, no, the owner of said item didn’t want it returned. lol So it’s gloves on, girls, and toss it into the rubbish.







Lacy panties are regularly found on the floor, under the bed, in the bed or in the bathroom. Underwear we don’t keep. In the bin with it!



But we did have one young lady ring and ask for these back.
I guess the panties probably cost her five dollars at most. Given she wanted them sent in an express package, the postage would have been closer to ten dollars. Bizarre!

Funny! We never get bras left behind. lol




Now this young lady definitely wanted these back and wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about ringing me and asking for them.
Lol Maybe hubby bought them for her and was a tad disappointed she didn’t think they were important enough to remember to pack.









Here’s the thing that really surprises me. The number of people who will turn their car around and drive miles back out of their way to collect bottles of alcohol they left behind. We’ve even had calls for half-empty bottles of alcohol.
*shaking head here*

If it’s opened, it goes down the drain and the bottle in the bin. If it’s unopened, it goes into a box in the commercial kitchen and is stored until after the Christmas holidays. If it isn’t retrieved by the end of February, then it’s used in a staff party, a late Christmas party because we are too busy at Christmas to actually celebrate.




Amazing what people feel are important. So inquiring minds want to know what you’d go back for if you left it behind. What’s important to you?

Series/Serial Reader’s Gold

I’ve mentioned a few times that I love series. I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately. Mostly series and serials. Yep there is a difference at least in my opinion between the two of them. There are so many books coming out each month and a lot of them are part of a series/serial.

First here are my definitions of them both:

Series ~ Taige Crenshaw Definition:

Novels that has a related story theme but each one is complete in and of itself.

Serial ~ Taige Crenshaw Definition:

Novels that feature/follows the same main character/s yet are still a fresh story each time.

No matter which way you slice it I find whether it is a serial or series I enjoy reading and writing stories like this. Reading or writing a series gives me a chance to know the world and grow with it. It gives me room to stretch my mind, push my characters to give me more and wallow in there adventure even more. Although I enjoy these stories I don’t usually start writing with the intention of it being a series/serial sometimes it just happens to evolve that way.

I write what I love to read and I’m one of those readers that wondered what is next for such and such main character. Or what happened to this sub - character that I liked in this or that novel. I go hunting to find more and when I find it I feel like I’ve struck READER’S GOLD. I jump up and down and shout in glee. LOL.

My bookshelves (electronic and print) are filled with series/serials. I keep lists of books coming out in my favorites. Everyone should have a little Reader’s Gold on their book shelf.

As a reader I search out that Reader’s Gold. This is what I want my novels to be to my current and future readers ~ Reader’s Gold. No I don’t want you the reader to wait a long time for my books but I want you to be so drawn into the worlds that I create you can’t wait to see what happens next.

Who are some author’s that are your Reader’s Gold and why?

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

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

Dressing Up

I've always loved Halloween. When I was a kid, I would count the days until October 31st. It wasn't the candy that I craved; it was the costumes. I adored dressing up and becoming somebody else. As soon as the magical night was over, I'd already be planning what I'd be the next Halloween. A princess? A pirate? A wicked witch cooking up evil spells? Or maybe Cleopatra - though costumes that involved showing much skin were not really practical in the New England climate of my childhood!

In more than half a century, I haven't changed. I'm still excited by the opportunity to discard my rather ordinary self for one night and become someone else: someone exotic and beautiful, seductive and powerful, maybe a bit dangerous. As an adult, I've always loved to create costumes that were a bit risqué. The irresistible and insatiable black widow spider. The kinky demoness. The naughty harem girl. On All Hallows Eve, the inhibitions come down when the pumpkins light up.

In preparation for this October 31st, I thought I'd exhume some of my old costume photos from the crypt and share them with you. I have to admit that I rarely looked as ravishing and sexy as I felt, but who cares? On Halloween, it's imagination that counts.

I also want to share an excerpt from my Halloween short, Rendezvous. Rebecca, the heroine, is a lot like me. She views Halloween as a chance to escape, to dress up and magically transform herself into someone else. She's heartbroken when Halloween finds her stranded by a breakdown at a seedy motel a hundred miles from her best friend's party. Little does she know that she's about to be seduced by some genuine magic - someone more powerful, and perhaps more dangerous, then she'd ever dreamed.

Wishing all of you a sensational, sexy All Hallows Eve - whoever you decide to be.


From Rendezvous, by Lisabet Sarai

The costume worked its magic. I was astonished at how regal I looked, and how desirable. The bodice pinched my waist to tiny dimensions, and forced my breasts upwards. The square-cut neckline drew attention to my swelling flesh, barely hiding my nipples. In fact, they were not hidden at all. Though I'd lined the top with muslin as the pattern specified, the tight nubs were clearly visible through several layers of fabric.

I cradled my breasts and used my thumbs to trace circles around those sensitive buds. With each cycle, the spring of tension in my cunt wound tighter. A light flick of my thumbnail sent electricity down my spine and triggered spasms of pleasure. I worried briefly that the juices trickling out of my cunt would spoil the satin. But after all, what did it matter? There was no one to see me tonight, no one to please but myself.

“You certainly do look sexy. Like something right out of de Sade.”

“What? Who...?” I whirled around in confusion, my heart slamming against my ribs. The voice had been close, right next to my ear. Yet the room was empty, unchanged. The same rippling walls, the same thread-bare carpet, the same rusty stains on the ceiling. The rumpled bed where I'd had my tantrum. The almost-empty glass on the dresser.

Ah, the liquor. I must be more drunk than I thought. I turned back to the mirror, searching my face for signs of intoxication, and yelped as something, someone, pinched my nipples.

“Hey! That hurts.” Indignation overwhelmed fear.

“It does, at first. But afterwards, it changes, doesn't it? Afterwards, it feels quite delicious.” I stared at my image, mouth hanging stupidly open, as invisible hands caressed my breasts. Strong hands, gentle hands, hands that seemed to know exactly how to make me shiver with delight. “That's what most people don't understand about pain. It's the gateway to the most exquisite pleasure.”

The voice was a melodious baritone, rich, deep, almost hypnotic. “You fear the pain, but that's foolish. You must surrender to the pain. Let it move through you. Let it wash away your doubts and your inhibitions. Let it open you to ecstasy.”

Firm, unseen lips nibbled at my neck. A warm, wet tongue traced the curve from below my ear to my exposed shoulder, then down to the hollow at my throat. With each touch, extravagant new species of pleasure bloomed in my sex. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, savouring the delicate caresses and the amazing sensations that they triggered in my cunt.

Then suddenly, something sharp pierced the rounded flesh of my shoulder. I screamed, surprise heightening the agony that gripped me, and tore myself away from the grasp of the unseen intruder.

My reflection made me gasp in horror and wonder. Droplets of blood oozed from several wounds on my shoulder, wounds arranged in the distinctive semi-circular shape of a bite.

I felt an arm around my waist, pulling me backwards against the unmistakable bulk of a male body. I struggled against his seemingly supernatural strength.

“Let me go!” There were fingers at my back, unlacing and loosening the bodice, working their way into my top.

“Is that really what you want?” A hand snaked into the opening I had left in the voluminous skirts—a slight modification I had made to the pattern. After all, what was the point of wearing a sexy costume if it made you inaccessible?

Cool fingertips wandered up the inside of my thigh, smearing the damp of my secretions into my bare skin. My clit ached in anticipation. A fresh flow of lubrication made my thighs damper still. “I think that you actually want something else.” He found his way into my folds and began massaging the swollen bud at my centre.

I moaned and arched backward, my body taking over while my mind whirled in confusion and disbelief.

“Who—what—are you?” He slid two fingers deep into my sopping cunt, making me writhe.

“Does it matter?” Now his thumb beat rapidly against my clit, while his fingers stroked my depths. His other hand pumped my breast in the same rhythm. I felt the first shimmers of orgasm, far away like heat lightning on the prairie horizon.

“I am who I am, and I know what you want. What you need.” He captured one swollen nipple and squeezed, waking echoes of his previous assault. I yelped and twisted, trying to get away but succeeding only in impaling myself more completely on the hand in my cunt. “Let yourself go, Rebecca,” he murmured close to my ear. Lost in a fog of arousal and terror, I hardly wondered that he should know my name.

Coming Soon to a Website Near You

In a month, my tenth story will release. I'm so excited to be taking part in this anthology with my best friend, Brynn Paulin. It's not every day you can not only share a job with your best friend, but also a book.

Also in the anthology are the lovely and talented Cindy Spencer Pape. She's a doll and a great writer - I can't wait to read her story. I'm also excited to read Saskia Walker, Aurora Rose Lynn and Lisabet Sarai's stories as well.

My story is called Mist and Stone. It's set in Arthurian England and I'd like to share the blurb and an excerpt with you.

Blurb:

Knight of the Round Table, Sir Gareth of Orkney has fought for Arthur and Britain for years. Now he is called to serve his king and his country in a way he never anticipated. King Arthur and the Lady of the Lake have resurrected the ritual of Beltane and Gareth is expected to oversee the rite. His ability to perform his duty is tested when he discovers the identity of the maiden chosen for the sacred ritual. He wants her for his own and balks at having to select a man to perform the ceremony with her.

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?

Excerpt:

“Touch her, and I will geld you before you take your next breath.” Rage filling her vision, Willow stepped in front of the young priestess at her side and blocked the advances of the man before them.

His thin lips peeled away from his teeth in a poor facsimile of a smile. “Mayhap, I will touch you instead.”

As he reached for her breast, she drew her dagger from the sheath attached to her kirtle and pressed the blade against the man’s groin. Unprepared for her bold move, he gasped and froze in place. She did not bother hiding her smile as she pushed the blade upwards bringing him to his toes.

Hooves clattered over the courtyard’s stones and a rider dismounted, but she refused to look away from the man in front of her.

The rider moved beside her and locked a warm hand around her wrist.

She turned to glare at the second man. “Have you come to protect your brother in arms from my blade?”

Recognition hit her low in the gut as familiar eyes, blue as a bright autumn day, crinkled with poorly concealed amusement. Gareth.

A crooked smile quirked his lips as he ignored her question as well as her barb. “While I am tempted to allow you to make good on your threat, I do not think the King would appreciate you spilling the blood of one of his knights.” He paused and eyed the man at the end of her dagger.“No matter how much he likely deserves it.”

“Release me,” she demanded. She refused to allow either man to think she was a helpless child.

In response, Gareth grabbed the other man’s tunic and gently, but firmly, pulled her weapon from its intended target. “The priestess is none of your concern, Maleagant. You will give her a wide berth or Arthur will hear of this.”

The other man narrowed his eyes, rage bright in the icy depths. “They are pagan whores.” Yanking free of Gareth’s grasp, he stumbled backwards. “God does not care for them. Why should Arthur?”

Willow shook with anger as he disappeared from view. She turned her scowl on the man who still held her wrist, caressing the underside with a callused thumb. A shiver worked down her spine as he continued to stroke the sensitive skin.

“Ever the protector of the weak, Sir Gareth the Brave,” she scoffed as she shook her hair from her face, taking care not to reveal how his slightest touch affected her. Though she had taken pains to pretend otherwise, her childhood infatuation had never truly gone away. If anything, it was worse than ever. However, it was difficult to rectify the noble knight before her with the boy who had pushed her into mud puddles and put frogs in her hair.

Gangly, red-haired Gareth had become a knight to be envied. Gone were the knobby knees and clumsy feet of a boy. In his place stood a man, tall and broad shouldered. If the heavy mail covering his body was any indication, he was also thickly muscled—he would have to be to support the weight of the metal as if it were no more cumbersome than his tunic. His hair had darkened to a russet brown, and his voice had deepened, though it still held the rich accent of the Orkney Isles. Only his eyes remained unchanged and right now they bored into hers.

She attempted to tug her arm free of his grasp, but he held firm, pulling her closer until she needed to tilt her head to meet his gaze. The heat of his body surrounded her, chasing away the chill of the spring morning.

“You have made a fierce enemy in Malaegant,” he growled.

She shrugged. “I do not fear him.”

“You should.” He tightened his grip on her wrist. Plucking her dagger from her fingers, he slipped it into his belt.

How dare he appropriate her weapon as though she was a child who could not be trusted to handle sharp objects? Her irritation deepened.

“You have humiliated him, and he will not soon forget it. If ever.” Lifting her chin, he forced her to meet his gaze. “You must take heed, Willow—especially while you are at Camelot. He is a dangerous man.”

She leaned closer and gently lifted his hair from his forehead, enjoying the sensation of his silky locks sliding through her fingers. Squinting, she peered intently at him as if searching for hidden secrets.

Frowning, he caught her wandering hand and pressed it to his chest. “What do you play at, woman?”

“I play at nothing. I am simply searching for hoof prints.”

His brow furrowed and confusion spread across his features. “Hoof prints?”

She bit her lip, stifling the smile that threatened. “Your solicitous behaviour is so unlike your usual treatment of me, I can only assume your mount has kicked you in the head recently.”

His firm lips twitched, but whether in amusement or annoyance, she was unable to tell. She fought the urge to smooth her fingertips across them.

He leaned toward her, bringing his face so close she could feel the warm flutter of his breath upon her skin. Was he going to kiss her?

Holding her gaze, Gareth slowly raised her palm to his lips and brushed a kiss across the centre.
Nervous excitement trembled through her middle as he raised his head slightly.

“Have a care, Willow, lest I feel the need to remind you that Malaegant is not the only dangerous man nearby.”

Timing is so important, and so are the details

I waffled on this month's blog entry. I wanted to steer completely clear of elections and the economy, but it's been difficult, they're just so in your face 'there' right now.

Dragging you and I away from the real world then, let's talk about the senses and how much we need to have them in our books, but only at the correct time. When you sit and watch a movie everything is supplied for you, at least we hope so. You don't need to close your eyes to see what John the hunk looks like or Stella the big boobed beauty, he or she is right there in front of you. No imagination needed. Course, you can't touch them or smell them, but the visual is so clear the rest just seems unimportant somehow. We've grown lazy and too many of us have lost that childhood talent of creating worlds in our minds.

If you listen to an audio story, the tone of voice can mesmerize you, but you can still settle in and dream of what that well muscled biker dude looks like, imagine what he'd smell like next to you, or what his hands would feel like if he touched you. The voice of the narrator lulls you into that dream world, but you still get that thrill of creating the world, the colors and textures of it, the smell of it. In a way, this is the perfect way to take in a story. It frees you to sink into the words, effortlessly. Timing here is incredibly important.

I think a good writer has the ability to take you into that world. That's a writer's goal—to make their words invisible, to allow the reader to forget their reading and simply fall into the story. If we're good, and I mean very good, we give just enough information, at just the right time, so the story unfolds, and the information appears, exactly when and where the reader needs it. If we're too early, or too late, it takes them out of the story and that's bad. Also, if we give them too much, a laundry list of description it kills the story and the reader may very well put the book down, or flip to another website, annoyed at us for destroying a perfectly good hour of pleasure time.

Have you ever read something so beautifully written, it flows like a wave across your mind, the dialogue is amazing and that hook at the beginning just won't let go? Nice huh? Then, for whatever reason, the author shares a bit of knowledge that's just too late and worse, it's wrong. The hero who you'd decided is a Greek god, muscular, bronze fleshed and wide- chested and BLOND, turns out to be tall slender, BLACK haired and has a hairy back. It's like the radio announcer stopped reading the story and switched to something else. The reader is jarred right out of whatever was happening.

The senses have to be there, but they have to be right as well. And told/shown to you at the right time. The sultry, dark haired siren needs to show herself shortly after you find out she's entered the room, not five pages later when the red brick wall collapses onto the bed, flattening her and the hunky male, who just happens to wind up paralyzed, but able to read minds. Oops, that bit just fell in there. That's the laundry list, and you don't want that either.

Do you get what I mean?

A woman walks into a room.

Is she a redhead or brunette? Is she tall, short, fat, slim? What's she wearing? All those you can fill in, or enough of it to give your reader's imagination the right direction to travel. Also, what's in the room? You don't need to tell it all, but you do need to give something or the poor reader will fill in the blanks. If it's a bank, it gives one texture to the story, if it's a stinking barn you get something else entirely. What does it smell like, money or cow poop? LOL

And the taste of things, very important, but only when it's right, needed. When your characters are kissing, does one have minty fresh breath while the other just had a burger, with onions? I hope not, but it happens and our characters are people. How about smell? Does someone have BO 'cause they've just came home from the gym when the wife decides it's time for some hanky panky?

It's all part of good writing and filling in the picture for the reader, guiding them, showing them the picture you see in your mind. It's what we strive for and practice the craft for. And, when we hit it right, it's an amazing feeling.

What do you think?

—
*Jude Mason - Come, explore with me…if you dare*
Website: http://www.my-haven2001.com
Newsletter: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jude_Masons_Newsletter/
To join my mailing list, email me: jude.mason@yahoo.ca

Just Sharing ...

I was stressing this morning. School holidays are finally over and I have a pile of covers to do. I'm already a week behind after a quick trip down to Sydney to see the family AND I have do think up something interesting for my blogs.

So not quite sure about what I was going to do I though I'd start searching for some cover stock. I sat my 4yo son down in front of the Sony for a couple of hours so I could get a bit of peace (yes I'm a bad mother) anyway, before I knew it I stumbled across this delightful image.

Geez, I love this job *sigh* I had to buy it, of course. Not that I have a particular cover in mind for him at the moment. But wow! He could park his boots under my bed any day of the week!

I just can't stop looking at this guy. I'd add him to my ever expanding 'sexy guy' wall above my computer except that my husband is starting to get a little antsy about all these guys staring back at him. LOL!

I love that he looks like he's about to 'do' something which I feel a lot of the stock images just seem to lack. He's captured that broody/challenging look without it looking sleezy. He's also just the right body type for me, he's tall, dark ... *sigh* Yep, this is one of the few male images that I would rate in the perfect category.

Anyway, with me being such a Visual person I often wonder what it is that attracts me to a particular image. If I don't find a model attractive, I generally won't use them. Thank goodness it is now considered 'the norm' to chop off heads or else my pickings would be very slim indeed. Of course, no doubt I overlook quite a lot of good stock because of my own personal tastes (or lack there of).

So this month, because I'm a bit behind, I thought I'd tempt you with a little collection of the stock images (or more to the point - male models) that do it for me. Perhaps you will see a pattern in my selections (which I'd love you to share because I'm yet to pinpoint what it is that catches my eye). Or who knows, perhaps you'll even find your next hero staring back at you.

ENJOY!!

(my apologies for those images with the ugly watermarks)

P.S. Yes, yes ... I know Hugh is not a stock model but how could I resist that face!!

Item 347

I have a book called 1001 Things Your Kids Should See & Do (Or Else They’ll Never Leave Home) by Harry H. Harrison Jr. It’s a pretty good book and it’s given me quite a few pointers over the last year or so of things I’d like to address with my kids before that stage when they stop listening for a while.

I just came across item 347. This one says: They need to meet a writer or two and see that second period English just might have a purpose. Truthfully, I think I’ve got this one covered. They live with a writer…they see me at work all the time. My best friend is Bronwyn Green. They see us all the time.

The other day, I was talking to Carol Lynne and my son was absolutely star-struck. “You’re talking to Carol Lynne? She faaaaaamous!” (Mind you, he has no idea what Carol writes. He just knows she’s popular and great at what she does.) Carol, bless her, said “Doesn’t he know what you do?”

Well, yeah… Isn’t it funny that to our families we’re just ______________ (fill in your own blank). You’re just a mom/sis/the wife. There’s nothing quite like a kid to say, “What’s for dinner,” after you’ve announced your new book is out.

Still, you can be surprised… My oldest son informed his teacher that she should ask his mom when he questioned something in English class, “’cause my mom’s a writer, you know.”

So I think I have this one covered. Writers met. They’re well-acquainted with at least six, and if nothing else, they know when it comes to becoming a published writer…it can be done.

Virgin post! Let's start things off with a bang!

How Hot!
By Sascha Illyvich

How hot are you?
How hot are you?
Tell me now and tell me true,
If I were there, what would you do?

This little ditty came from an ex girlfriend of mine who was a real treat! I mean, uninhibited as all get out! Too bad we broke up before I got the chance to find out, right? LOL!

Seriously though, with the rising heat levels our publishers are putting out, it begs me to ask the question: How hot is too hot?

Ménage-a-trois are becoming popular, especially among female readers and gay males who like to see men fucking other men.

I can dig that. Bisexuality is fun!

And as long as the author writes the scene well and it flows across the pages, I’m down with it, personally. But lately, I’ve been pushing boundaries. When I redid my first vampire novel (I’m subbing it to Kensington’s Aphrodisia line and querying agents!) the first sex scene is what I’m labeling a “reverse rape” or forced seduction scene. Remember those from the 70’s? I don’t. I didn’t start reading romance until the late 90’s, and it was the BLAZE line from Harlequin. Sex was hot, very hot. Language was pretty open for romance then. It wasn’t quite like the erotica I started writing, but it was still much different than your standard closed door love scenes.

But in ENDANGERED, (that’s my vampire novel, you see?) I had one of my heroines taste the hero’s cum. It served a purpose, my vampires are kinky! And you can tell a lot about a man’s diet by what his cum tastes like. (That’s another article!) In a later erotic romance, I started including hardcore BDSM elements and porno movie like scenes. There’s one scene in “Covenant of Wolves 1: Stalker(Dub Mix) where my heroine’s getting fucked in the ass and she begs the hero to pull out and cum all over her ass.

Is this too much for you? My beta readers didn’t think so even after I explained why I was pushing boundaries. In a later scene in that book, the heroine walks in on my hero anal fucking the secondary male character who is decidedly gay (that is, Jan woke up one day and decided to be gay!) and she’s angry because the queer won’t share the wolf she’s tied to through Faery Lust. Later, she pays the hero back by making him fuck her while she sucks off one of his subordinates.

Is this too much? I had a point when I wrote the story and again, my beta readers loved the hot sex. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of woman on back legs spread getting fucked missionary sex. It’s boring. I read erotic romance not just for the plot but for the HOT SEX!

How many of you are into anime and YAOI in particular?

This is all relevant, but what say you?

Fairy Love

I've always loved fairies. Not the stupid little happy fairies like in Disney's Cinderella, not even when I was a kid. I did, though, have an affinity for Tinkerbell - she at least had attitude and knew how to hold on to her man. Why do I like them so much? Well, fairies, obviously, are magical beings, beautiful, smart, of the earth, sexual beings, free and ageless - what's not to love. Further, being of Irish heritage, Irish tales fascinated me from quite an early age. I'm adopted, so I used to pretend that I was really an Irish fairy princess and some day my "people" would come for me, take me away from the drudgery of my existence and place on a throne where I would be pampered coddled as I should be. Truthfully, I still have that fantasy.
While waiting for my people to come for me, though, I decided to do a bit of research and write my own fairy story. Following the age-old adage of "write what you know", I added some BDSM since my husband and I have delved into this fascinating and sensual world on occasion. Just to bring in another twist, I thought I'd add another element which interests me - bars (in America anyway, in Ireland it would be pubs). What can I say - I like whiskey and I like people. I gave all these ingredients a good shake and what came out? "Conquest of a Fairy" of course. This was my first novella published with Total-e-bound, and I'm really rather proud of it. Saoirse, the half mortal, half fairy heroine, is all the things a fairy should be. Sadly, though, she's lacking excitement and love in her home world, so she crosses into the world of mortals only to find herself in a whole heap of trouble. Luckily, the hunky hero, Angus is there to come to her rescue from a near rape by the town bully. Angus, like any TRUE man, has no tolerance for a man forcing himself on a woman.
Here's a short excerpt. Hope you enjoy it.

“Take that, you son of a bitch!” the man yelled. He then dropped Seamus to the floor. The stranger stood over him as if deciding if he wanted another go at the now unconscious Seamus. “A man isn’t a man who forces himself on a woman. And I’d be little better than you if I beat a man already unconscious,” he mumbled. With a shake of his head he turned to face the girl crying on the bed. Slowly he approached and looked down at her. He smiled, gently and honestly. Saoirse, through her tears, saw that his eyes were kind and his smile genuine. “I won’t hurt ya. I want you to know that. My name is Angus and I own McMurphy’s Pub just down the street from here. I’m goin’ to take out the gag first then untie ya. Scream if you feel the need, but know that I will not hurt you. In fact I’ll try not to touch you at all. You’ve been through enough today,” he said softly. Saoirse nodded her understanding and he gently removed the shirt from her mouth. True to his word, when he unbound the belt his hand barely brushed over her bruised wrists. “Now don’t get skitterish. I’m going to remove my shirt.” Tears welled once more in Saoirse’s eyes. Did every man in this world think of only one thing? “No, no, little one, I’m not going to hurt you. I saw your dress. You’ll be wantin’ something to wear. I figure you’re small enough that my shirt will do for a garment until I can get you out of here.” He removed his white, buttoned shirt and handed it to her. Saoirse looked up and saw with relief that he wore an undergarment. She also noticed the gentle smile and kind eyes. Perhaps she had misjudged this man. She reached for the shirt and said, “I am called Saoirse. Thank you, but please, could you take me away from this evil place?” Her hand shook as she buttoned the shirt that indeed fell almost to her knees. While she was now unsure of her judgment of the character of these humans, this man’s face and eyes seemed filled with nothing but kindness and concern. She had to trust someone. This tall, dark-haired giant was her best hope. “Do you have a place to go?” Angus asked. “No, I’m from. . . well. . . I’m on a journey. I know no one from this region. I did research and thought I knew what I was getting myself into. It seems I was mistaken.” Saoirse hung her head in shame. “Alone? You? A pretty young woman decided to go on a ‘journey’ alone and is surprised when she finds herself in trouble? I’d say you made a mistake!” Angus scolded. She began to cry again. His voice immediately contrite, Angus said, “Ah now, no need for tears, come along. I’ve a room open above my pub. It’s safe, I promise you. The room is small but clean. You can stay as long as you like—a few hours or a few days, a week or so—it’s up to you. I won’t be havin’ you think ill of my town.” “What about him?” Saoirse asked as she and Angus left Seamus’ cottage. Angus’ eyes hardened. “You’ll be having no more trouble from him. He does live in this town so if you decide to stay you’ll be seein’ a bit of him about, but he’ll not be botherin’ you again. I won’t stand for it.”

How to write HOT when you're NOT

Sometimes I don't feel so hot. I don't feel like writing hot. But there's a book to finish. And the couple is there, in place (picture a book as a movie set) and the producer (the author) yells "Roll 'em!"... and the scene starts to unfold.

So here I am, sitting at my desk, a flannel blanket over my shoulders, a steaming hot tea by the keyboard, stuffed with aspirin and sucking a sore throat pill. I'm thinking, "They touch, he slides his hands along her cheeks, grasps her jaw, turns her face to his. She resists, then their eyes meet. He leans over. Their lips touch..." and I sneeze.
I pictured the woman kissing the man and then sneezing.
The moment was gone.
I start over. This time I get as far as his lips trailing down her neck, and he breathes in her scent. (and all I can smell is my camphor rub) I try to imagine something more romantic than camphor. Jasmin. The old standby. She smells of jasmin. A delicate, sweet scent.
He sighs and buries his face in her neck, her hair tickling his skin.
I sneeze again.
Damn it.
I take a swig of hot tea. Blow my nose. Glare at the keyboard.
The hero is getting slightly annoyed. The heroine is about to fall asleep. I realize I've been sitting here staring at the keyboard for a long time. My tea is cold.
I sigh and start over.
Hands sliding over hot skin.
(I have a fever)
Sweat pearling on brows. (That too is easy to imagine. But the fever is making me slightly loopy. I keep imagining the heroine putting cool hands on the hero's burning forehead. I can only write it once though.
I sigh. (sneeze) and start again.
By now my eyes are watering and I've finished a whole box of tissues.
By now I realized I would not be able to finish my sex scene. It would have to wait until I felt hot enough to write hot.
Sometimes, you just have to wait.
As my husband is fond of saying, "waiting is half the pleasure."
My hands fly over the keyboard.

The heroine pushed the hero firmly away. "Not tonight darling," she said. "But don't worry. The wait will definitely be worth it."

I sneeze.
:-)

Do you believe in ghosts?

Do you believe in ghosts?

I'm not sure that I believe in them, but neither do I disbelieve.

This is the month to see ghosts, ghouls, demons, and other dark creatures all over, real and otherwise.

When my younger daughter was four, she was sure there was a ghost in her room. A friend of mine who is from Haiti who believes in ghosts, told me to put a glass half-filled with water in her room to chase it away. It seemed to work. My daughter wasn't scared after that.

A few years after that, I attended the WRW (Word Romance Writers') conference in French Lick, Indiana. The French Lick hotel is a beautiful old, but haunted hotel. Al Capone used to hide out there when the heat got too hot in Chicago. My grandparents used to vacation there a lot, too.

The ghost, however, isn't Al Capone's. At least I don't think so.

Anyway, we were fascinated by the idea of finding the ghost and so we asked a staff member to take us on a tour of the hotel. We kept hearing rumors of THE "red" elevator which was the only elevator that went to THE haunted floor which of course isn't used anymore. It was either 13 or 14.

Anyway, we searched all over the red elevator and it took a couple days to find it. The red elevator door was in the basement. However, that elevator was the one that was in front of my room that I'd been riding in alone. (shiver)

So one night, we all decided to go ghost hunting and we were determined to explore the haunted, off limits floor. Although we were a fairly small group, twenty something, we wouldn't all fit in the elevator at once so we had to break into smaller groups. One of the groups decided to scare our group - I think I almost became a ghost that night.

We made our way to the haunted floor and we explored what we could. Even though we didn't see the ghost, it felt very spooky like Halloween even though it was June or July. Unfortunately, the haunted wing was blocked by a bolted door we couldn't pass. Or maybe it was fortunate.

That was the spookiest, best haunted house experience by far I ever had. It was the most fun conference I've ever attended, and it was one of the best times I've ever had. I'd love to go ghost hunting again.

Sometimes, ghosts pop up in my stories, Halloween and otherwise. "Wishcraft" my Halloween romance with Total-E-Bound features a couple ghosts and witches and wishes, just perfect for this time of year.

To help you get in the Halloween mood, here's an excerpt. Enjoy!


Excerpt from: Wishcraft

Drawing together her brows, Felicia checked her mental agenda as she gave her potion one last stir, and then went to see who was brave enough to venture here without an invitation. No one was scheduled, and her clients were well schooled to ring before venturing here. No one visited the Heks’ house unless they were an out-of-town salesman or a lost traveler who hadn’t been spoon fed the gruesome, if made up, stories about human sacrifices and demonic rituals.

“Felicia, open up! I hear you scuttling around in there,” Acacia Pangbourn’s voice shrilled through the house just before the floorboards creaked suspiciously.

Mere seconds later, the door slammed testifying to an illegal entry.

Blimey! Acacia was one of Felicia’s ex-classmates, a ghastly creature who’d made her secondary school years a constant misery. Not only had she made goo goo eyes at every man in whom Felicia had shown an interest, she’d committed the unforgivable crime of trying to steal Jeremy. The other woman had never known how close she had come to being turned into a chalkboard eraser.

To her dismay, Felicia discovered the woman was already through the front door and well into the house before she could catch her. Swearing under her breath, she followed the whispery sound of her nemesis’ footsteps on the throw rugs.

After her father had expunged Jeremy’s memories of their beautiful night together and had made Felicia swear never to date another Naggie, not even to talk to another one, the embers of the dead flame had blazed to life. Of course, she had done a little fanning. Okay, more than a little.

No matter what her father had decreed, no matter how much she respected her pop, she couldn’t live her life without Jeremy. She’d had to face the facts—she was a Jeremy addict. He had been as heroin in her blood. His presence intoxicated her and she savoured every memory of their cherished night.

And so, unable to live without him, she’d won back his love.

One summery night after they had graduated, they slow danced under the moonlight, wrapped in each other’s arms. Lost in love, teetering on the precipice of ecstasy just holding one another, they’d gazed into each other’s eyes.

“You’re a vision,” he’d murmured against her lips, his breath minty and highly stimulating.

With a halo of moonlight making his dark hair gleam, he was the vision. As if struck by lightning, she’d sucked in a ragged breath and huskily murmured, “So are you.” Then, with her heart hammering with such force she feared it would spill from her chest, she’d stood on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his.

Without hesitation, he’d accepted her gift, drawing her up to him. Plundering each other’s lips, they’d let their tongues finish the tango. Fevered, she’d moulded herself against him, noting how perfectly they fit. Only a brief twinge of guilt had crept in to dim her bliss. How could a magical person, or “Maggie,” as they called themselves, fit so well with a Naggie? According to her father, this was impossible—and more than distasteful.

She’d found it anything but distasteful. Jeremy was the most luscious man she’d ever met, his touch the only one that had ever made her senses whirl.

“I only feel alive when I’m with you. All I ever want to be is with you.” It had taken a lot of courage for her to admit this to herself, much less to him. Her father would have disowned her. Her family would have mourned the unholy association. They’d sooner have seen her copulate with a demon.

“I can’t believe what a lucky bloke I am, to have such a beautiful woman in love with me.” He’d stroked her hair away from her flushed cheeks and then nibbled on her ear. His hands had roamed her back and settled on her bottom before he pulled her hips tight against his.

Only later in retrospect had she noted that he hadn’t declared undying love for her. Wryly, her lips twisted. Had it all been one-sided? Oh, sure, he’d been consumed with lust. But love? If it had been love, would any spell have vanquished it?

She didn’t know, but she shook her head.

Now, as then, Jeremy wouldn’t go away. Rather, the memory of him refused to leave her in peace.

Available at: Total-E-Bound.com

Sex and Football

I have two great passions in my life-sex and football. When August rolls around each year, my eyes glaze over and my wonderful hubby takes in the television schedule with a wistful look. From Thursday night to Tuesday morning, the television is my lover. Fourteen hours a day my total focus is on twenty two sweaty male bodies clashing on the field.
“What about my sweaty body?” he asks over and over again. “I can toss you on a field on your back and you’ll never miss the game.”
But my hormones just seem to follow a misdirected path, drooling for the clash of bodies, and none of them is mine.
Something, he said firmly, tired of waiting his turn for four days, had to give. No question about it.
So.
Like good negotiators, we sat down and drew up a set of rules, which seem to work for us. At least so far. And many of them allow me to purse my two favorite passions at the same time.
Rule One: Bank sex points before Thursday night. However you choose. Roll dice. Swap chores. Whatever. If he gets the most points, he can trade them in at an appropriate break in the schedule.
Rule Two: Recliner sex is acceptable for lower tier games but not for major ones. And definitely not when my alma mater, the University of Michigan, is playing.
Rule Three: Half time. There’s a reason for it. Use it, but plan carefully. Remember, it’s only fifteen minutes so you better be ready to go.
Rule Four: If my team is winning by a wide margin I can call a time out and choose the sex act of my choice.
Rule Five: If his team is winning, he gets the action of his choice even while the game is going on. Ever try cheering for a touchdown when you’re…well, you get the idea.
Then, of course, there might be a break when none of the teams playing demand your full attention. I have the wine chilled, the strawberries dipped in chocolate, the volume on the television turned down but I always place myself in position to see the picture. If things take a sudden exciting turn, it’s possible to get stuck in the same position for five or ten minutes, so you want to chart that out ahead of time.
The ultimate, of course, is to reach orgasm at the moment your team scores the winning touchdown. Then the neighbors don’t wonder what you’re screaming about.
We’re trying this new program this season, and so far it’s working for us. I get to watch television and the poor hubby doesn’t whine for three days.
Do you have a favorite sport? Does it hamper your sex life? Leave me a comment and tell me about it.

And in between football games, check out my latest Desiree Holt from Total-e-bound, SUMMER SPICE. Summer may be over but the spice definitely lingers.

And visit Desiree at http://www.desireeeholt.com/

Ghost Walk

Ghost Walk

by: Ellen Ashe

The history of York, we were told- my friend and I- is the history of England. Preserved medieval walls and buildings, the whisper of civil war, kings and queens, plagues and torture, survival and romance, all of it oozed a saga we simply couldn’t get enough of. Narrow streets revealed cluttered shops, tea rooms, and wine bars. Cathedral crypts, dully lit, spoke of long gone civilizations- Romans, Saxons, Vikings, Normans- and museums, too many to count, peeled back the layers of time for all who cared to stop and wonder. A romantic’s dream come true and we reveled in exploration.
As the warm summer day grew dim we stopped by the River Ouse outside a favorite pub, The King’s Arms, rested our feet and dampened parched throats. A tall, pasty complexioned fellow caught our attention. Dressed as an undertaker, tall black hat, his cape swirling around his ankles, he waved his crooked walking stick and called forth all those who wished to hear the stories of lost souls within the city’s walls who could not find rest. “Join me,” he chanted with an air of suspenseful expectancy. “And I shall take you to places where infamy refuses to concede to reality.”
An eager crowd soon gathered. His flare for all things dark and ghostly was quite lucrative; they paid their dues and shuffled about in nervous anticipation. Despite our aching feet, we too, were seduced by his mystical mannerisms; curiosity got the better of us. The few shekels we handed over were well worth the price for nerve tingling entertainment.
We were not disappointed. We tagged along, stopping to listen intently to a sad story of a child locked inside a plague house, to die, not of the disease that wracked the population centuries ago, but of slow starvation. Her little face did not appear in the upstairs window for us, but we didn’t doubt on some foggy nights it did just that. Outside a pub called The Black Swan we held our breath as the tale of a ghostly woman was recounted, trying vainly to warm her cold hands near the fireplace and vanishing as patrons approached to peer into her eyes. Next was The Treasurer’s House, where ghostly dualists fight through eternity on the manicured lawn, swords clashing for the heart of a lady who had long since turned to dust.
Our host was mesmerizing- his deep voice rising and falling- subtle nuances as he embellished these fanciful tales for an engrossed audience. We were of no exception. “He’s good,” I whispered to my friend and she nodded slowly, her eyes wide.
“Fascinating,” said a fellow who had silently come up behind us. We turned in unison to glance at the stowaway, and being warm blooded and female, were taken aback by his sinister good looks. Locks of black hair curled over his white collar and framed swarthy Greek God features. He smiled at each of us in turn, long lashes curling above sultry brown eyes. “Do you believe?” His question was uttered in sincerity.
I found my voice first. “There’s likely a grain of truth to each story,” I said, hoping my palpitating heartbeat wasn’t betraying my attraction to masculine qualities draped in fine clothes- silky cotton shirt, dark trousers, soft leather boots- certainly a stark contrast to our tourist identifying garb of t-shirts, jeans and running shoes.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked. He bowed, slightly, and we were instantly charmed by his elegant mannerisms. “My name is Jonathan Wright.”
Mr. “Right”, I mused, speechlessness taking hold. My friend introduced herself but I was then beyond capability of forming words.
This was a blessing, in fact, for he quietly highlighted the next tale of a Grey Lady who had, our formal guide bellowed, been seen on a regular basis haunting The Theatre Royal. “She was boarded up in a wall,” Jonathan Wright said softly, leaning between our shoulders. “Left there to die, inch by inch, for the crime of passion.” I shuddered at this horror, keeping my own stirring passions muted, thankful that dreadful era no longer held power over liberated minds.
We three tagged along behind the troupe to the final stop, The King’s Manor, and I felt uneasy that perhaps our guest might be scorned for hanging on, but no one seemed to notice. We had become delightfully anonymous. And inside the echoing stone foyer we listened politely to the story of a lady in green, her costume denoting the Tudor style, who carried roses from a garden that existed hundreds of years ago.
The Ghost Walk was then concluded; the crowd dispersed, happily arguing over the authenticity of these tales of intrigue. But we three remained in the cold open foyer, as our guest peered longingly at the stairway that led up into a vast room shrouded in darkness. There was more to the story of the lady in green, we guessed, and waited with eager apprehension.
“She loved only one,” he said calmly, his eyes fixated on the gloom above us. “Yet duty saw her bound to another.” He sighed with such emotion that we clutched each other’s arms- my friend and I- wondering how it was he was privy to such depth.
“Murder,” he announced with such vigor we startled. “Both were murdered by the cruel heart of jealousy.”
He turned once more and smiled to us. “I must bid you both adieu,” he said with a nod. “May life and love fulfill all your dreams. Always believe.”
With that, he moved towards the wide staircase and before our eyes, slowly vanished. Ascending footsteps faded into nothingness.
We were left alone, to wonder how it was that lost love could stretch beyond the borders of time, and how we could never again concede to what we perceived as reality. And as we backed away from the cold stone foyer into the busy street outside, the delicate scent of roses filled the air.

www.ellenashe.net

Bite Me! Halloween Contest

• Donna Grant - http://www.donnagrant.com
• Jessica Jarman - http://www.jessicajarman.com
• Tuesday Morrigan - http://www.tuesdaymorrigan.com
• Crissy Smith - http://crissy0328.blogspot.com
• Ellen Ashe - http://www.ellenashe.net
• Gwendolyn Cease - http://www.gwendolyncease.com

Fate Unbound, Isabelle Drake's story in NECTAR OF THE GODS

The thing I love about the heroine in Fate Unbound is that she is beautiful, sexy, and used to getting whatever she wants. Until her sisters get tired of her I'm-better-than-everyone-else attitude. Then she finally gets what's coming to her. Of course she does get her man, in the end, but she learns her lesson first.

Here's the official blurb:

Forced to leave her homeland of ancient Greece, Taryn must search modern day LA for the one man who will tame her wild heart. The Oracle has dictated that she must submit to all men who approach her. In doing so, she will find the single man who desires submission to her, then, and only then, may she return to her beloved home.

Adrian, frustrated by being forced live as an unrecognized son of Zeus, seeks his fate from The Oracle. The Oracle has a dictate for him as well, he must be patient, accept what comes to him, and never act on his own desires--especially those of the flesh. In doing so, he will, when the time is right, receive the recognition as Zeus’s son.

And an excerpt:

“I’d remember you if I’d seen you here before.”

The man, not much more than a boy really, was swaying as he leaned back, trying to get a look at her ass. Brown hair hung across his face, hiding one of his bright blue eyes. His jaw was pleasantly square, his skin nicely tanned and contrasting well with the casual, soft brown sweater clinging to his lean muscles. Denim pants hung low on his hips, showing off a small slice of his strong midsection.

He certainly wasn’t puny, or unattractive, but he wasn’t up to Taryn’s usual standards either.

He had no sword or markings of battle, and his face was fresh with the enthusiasm of youth.

She preferred her men strong and experienced. Vigorous. Capable. In Kate’s words–edgy.
But, she reflected ruefully, always getting what she wanted was the problem.

Or had been.

The newcomer set his hand on her waist, gripping it firmly, and leaned in. The bristled shadow of his facial hair brushed across her cheek as he spoke, his hot breath blowing across her neck. “I come here all the time. Want me to show you around?”

She shook her head, easily meeting his gaze because he wasn’t more than a few inches taller than she. “I’m meeting someone.”

Still holding her waist, he angled back, his gaze darting across the mass of people before coming back to her. “Another girl?”

Girl?

Did she look like an unripe, inexperienced girl?

Taryn straightened, looking down her nose at him, but because his attention had dropped to the swells of her breasts, her distain went unnoticed.

She set her hand on his to pull it away, but he gripped hers tightly and smiled, his vivid gaze coming back to her face. His grin was sweet, his azure eyes glowing brightly under the shaggy locks falling across his forehead.

A mature man would’ve been subtle and realised the importance of anticipation. This boy’s inexperience was well balanced by drunken confidence. “We can wait for her,” he replied, stretching to the bar to discard his empty beer bottle, intentionally letting his arm brush across the side of her breast. “Then I’ll show you both around.” Moving his gaze to the dusting of glitter she had skimmed between her breasts, he added, “This is a big place. You need to know where to go to get what you want.”

He seemed harmless enough, but Taryn wanted to end things quickly, before he made the offer she was forbidden to refuse.