James Purefoy, Age 45. Yes. OMG I fell in love with him in Resident Evil, and to this day, I wanna do unbelievably naughty things to him with cool whip and 4 lengths of red rope licorice. Have you seen him? Oh…but have you seen him NEKKID? Watch Rome… you will. Ooh and he’s a Gemini… And yes, he’s a muse for our books, our Demon, Dante.
Callum Keith Rennie, age 49. Ok I don’t know why but he’s become a recent obsession with me. Sexy… and almost 50! Dude my ‘father’ should be 56. That’s creepy, but DAMN. He don’t look like he’s gonna be 50.
Collin Farrell, Age 32. Yes he’s not that much older then me, Actually he’s a year and 51 weeks older as we are a week apart (I’m May 24th and he’s May 31st). And he’s a Gemini too. Surprise surprise. But OMG do I adore this man. Here. Drool with me. Yes, he’s a Muse, our ever evil bad boy demon, Drake. Yummy.
Johnny Depp, Age 44, and another Gemini. I don’t think I need to say why I love him. Though I will mention that Audra is convinced that he probably smells like old tobacco and stale wine. Still, we all would forgive him. Johnny is the muse for our hottie teleport demon, Fallon Ipwhisk.
David Wenham, Age 44. My aussie love. Hottest thing he’s ever done? Been the one eyed hottie in 300. DID YOU SEE THAT BODY? Yeah… I did too. Normally I don’t go for the hard bodies, but great googily moogily. The man is fine. David is the Muse for our Unicorn, Karsten Morris.
Ok… so now you see why I’m panting over these fine upstanding gentleman. But I thought I would add another… a young guy, Age: 27. Jamie Davis, of Footballer’s Wives and HEX fame. Ooey gooey sexy.
Crap. I just realized I am not in anyway attracted to American guys. I don’t consider Depp American, since he hasn’t ‘lived’ in the US in ages. So what say you? Who are your favorites, and do you use them for muses when you write?
My new M/f, BDSM, vampire novella, Whispers, come out this month as part of Total-e-bound’s BDSM anthology Night of the Senses.
I’m so excited to be part of this project with so many fantastic writers. The anthology features: Voyeur by Sierra Cartwright, Carnal Caresses by Desiree Holt, Welcome to Paradise by Ashley Ladd, Spiced Vanilla by Victoria Blisse, Sweet Urges by Jessica Jarman and my own story – Whispers, as the extrasensory contribution.
Here’s a little bit more about Whispers -
Charlotte is more than happy to offer her master her body, her blood and her submission. But her mind is her own, if he really is listening in on her thoughts, he has to stop – Right now!
As soon as Zachariah feeds from Charlotte’s blood, he begins to hear her thoughts whispering into his mind. A rare blood bond forms between them and Zachariah is thrilled. He’s sure the bond and his new insights into Charlotte’s mind will solve all their problems.
Charlotte was ready for her master’s bite to hurt – she was looking forward it. She thought she was ready for anything else too, but she wasn’t ready to let her master into her mind. The bond isn’t the solution to anything. The bond is the problem.
Zachariah has to solve a whole new set of problems if he’s going to prove he’s the master Charlotte’s always wanted, and Charlotte has to learn to do something she’s never done before – trust a master with her mind.
And a quick extract:
Zachariah Radcliff ran his fingertips over Charlotte’s throat, slowly tracing the line of her jugular. It took every ounce of his self control to keep his touch gentle. He’d waited far too long since his last feeding, but now…
He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself not to assume too soon. Everything still hung on Charlotte’s answer.
“Are you sure, my pet?” Zachariah asked softly.
He brushed her hair away from her neck. The dark curls fell back over her shoulder. Charlotte shivered—a shudder so tiny, it required his heightened senses to perceive.
The room was warm. His armchair stood close to the fire. Although she was naked, her place kneeling at his feet put Charlotte directly in front of the blaze. There was only one reason for his pet to shiver, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.
She appeared perfectly serene, but he sensed her blood pounding, hard and fast through her veins. He knew it was impossible for him to truly understand how Charlotte felt about the imminent feeding, but he looked down at his pet and did his best.
Was the shiver a sign of fear? Desire? He couldn’t read her well enough to be certain. He’d never known a human who was quite so infuriatingly in control of her reactions as Charlotte.
Zachariah forced a deep breath into his lungs and held back a sigh. She’d known who he was, what he was, when she’d come under his protection. She’d been given time to become accustomed to the idea. If she said she was sure, he no longer had any choice but to trust her judgement. He couldn’t wait any longer.
“If you are truly ready for this, come to your master.”
Charlotte stood. Even with the desire for her blood scorching through his veins, he couldn’t fail to appreciate her curves the same way a human man might. Zachariah ran a hand down his pet’s back and caressed the soft swell of her hip as she sat on his lap.
He arranged Charlotte so her back rested against his chest. Her neck hovered temptingly close to his lips. He stroked his hands over her limbs, encouraging her to rest against him. Charlotte moulded herself to fit perfectly against the lines of his body, but she didn’t relax. Charlotte maintained the same tense reserve she always displayed in his presence.
“Bare your neck for me, pet.”
She took her hair and twisted the thick mass of curls together, bringing the rope of hair over her left shoulder to expose the right side of her neck. Her hands showed no sign of an anxious tremble.
Zachariah wished he could trust that to mean she really wasn’t nervous.
He tilted her head back and kissed her neck. Tracing the vein with the tip of his tongue, he pushed back the urge to bite, the way he had so many times over the last few weeks.
Charlotte turned her head to the side, giving her master better access to the vein. It was more than enough encouragement. Coming from a woman who never let her wants and desires show, it was a full orchestral symphony of invitation, with an extra encore thrown in for good measure.
The forms still needed to be properly observed. Zachariah forced the syllables past his lips. His mouth trembled with the effort of forming words when every instinct demanded he forget words existed and just bite. “Give me your answer, pet,” he whispered. “I will not take what is not freely given.”
He couldn’t ignore the calm certainty in her voice. His teeth grazed her skin. Blood immediately seeped to the surface. Zachariah ran his tongue over the wound. He closed his eyes, savouring the first taste of hot, salty liquid on his lips.
He liked to think he would have been able to stop if Charlotte panicked, but the blood on his tongue called to him so strongly, nothing less than a display of real fear would stop him.
She gave no sign of distress.
*End of Excerpt*
If you’d like to find out more about the other stories in the collection, just click here.
Thanks for reading!
Kink, love and a happy ending. Do you Dare?
But, what next?
That's a part most of us don't really think about, much less do.
I can think about writing. I can dream about it. I can list all the great things that come from writing, seeing your name in print, looking at the gorgeous cover art, getting a royalty check. I can even attend writers' groups and conferences. I can blog about writing a book. I can talk about it with my friends. Most certainly, I can make a list of the ways my life will be better if I write a book.
But until I sit myself in a chair and put my fingers on the keyboard day after day, hour after hour, missing out on opportunities to go out with friends, skipping activities I enjoy, I can never achieve my goal.
Several years ago (okay, maybe five), I set a weight goal. I did all the things I talk about in my coaching. I made the lists, I talked about how great things would be once I wore a smaller size, I dreamed about it.
But I actually didn't get to the fitness club all that often. And I didn't significantly change my eating habits...until I had an issue with my knee last fall. I ended up in physical therapy. In order to keep up my regular activities, including hiking, I had to make changes.
I hired a personal trainer to teach me to get fit. Since I had to pay in advance, almost a thousand dollars, I had a real commitment to show up for my three-times a week sessions. Then, because I wanted to get the most out of the sessions, I changed my eating habits. (I even learned how to cook brown rice and started steaming fresh veggies every day.)
I had spent years visualizing the scale at that ideal weight. I pictured shopping for smaller clothes. I talked about eating healthier. I strategized how I would achieve my goals. I told people about my determination. I wrote affirmations.
But I took only half-hearted efforts to achieve my goals. For example, I'd eat well for two days, and then have a Coke and chocolate the next. I'd go to the gym once a week, maybe twice if I was feeling ambitious.
Until I made a consistent effort, I held my own, but I didn't make progress.
I'm happy to report that, as of last week, I have achieved my weight goal. (Now I'm going to set another!)
I learned through this experience that dreaming, thinking, wanting, affirming is not enough. To achieve, you have to take action.
What do you really, really want that you haven't taken action on?
Be honest with yourself.
If you want to be a writer, do you write every day? (Or do you only think about it and dream about it?) If you want to be a size smaller, have you checked with your doctor and made a game plan? If you want better financial results, have you made changes to your spending, saving, investing habits?
Where can you take action to have the life you dream of?
Believing in you...
(who has a story out in the new, fabu Night of the Senses anthology from Total-E-Bound. Yes, I skipped fun activities in order to see my name on a book. Some sacrifices are definitely worth it!)
Definitely a case of identity theft.
Moreover, the story definitely got me thinking.
Our culture is geared towards the young and beautiful. Meanwhile, many women I know have said that their sex drives went off the charts in their forties. They say it is because the kids were grown, and the pressure of raising them was gone. So, they have more time on their hands for lots of other stuff. Like…making love with their significant other. They also didn’t have to worry about the kiddies being in the house, and knowing what mom and dad were doing behind closed doors. These women I know have said that it is a very liberating experience, having sex with their significant other – and not having to lock the bedroom door.
When I was a teenager, I remember once trying to imagine my parents having an intimate relationship. Yuk! They were old! How could two old fuddy-duddies like them make love? Well…obviously, they did – at least 4 times because there were my three siblings, and I but to actually imagine my old parents having an active sex life?
I can certainly now say that in my forties, I felt that feeling of liberation (yes, yes, I know…I’m giving away my age here). First, my children were in their late teens, they didn’t need me in the way that a young child does. Therefore, I had lots more time on my hands. And…here’s another point: Birth control was no longer an issue for me – so, I felt free. Making love took on a whole new meaning. It was like the hubby and I were young kids again.
We could do it whenever we darn well pleased because my kids just weren’t home as much (hey, once my kids started driving, there was no stopping them).
LOL – I’m sure my children are wondering the same thing now about my husband and I… “Do mom and dad do it?” (I can see their snickering faces, and I know exactly how they feel).
Perhaps, that’s why now, at my very (Cough! Cough!) advanced age, I’m writing romance. Maybe that’s why the stories seem to flow from my head onto the paper. There’s something liberating in that, too, to be able to write about love and relationships and making love. I don’t have to worry that my kids are too young – they’re both in their twenties now. I don’t have to worry that my kids’ friends would snicker. In fact, my kids are darned proud of me for my writing accomplishments. And their friends, are, too.
That old saying, ‘The best is yet to come’ is true.
Getting older means getting better.
Hell, the sex sure is!
So, the next time you see a person in their later years walking with just a big more spring in their step, you’ll know why.
You’re never too old.
I'm a rather recent "Catholic"...so, the whole idea of giving stuff up for Lent is still hard for me to grasp. Heck, I'm on a chronic diet (yeah, I cheat, but hey, who doesn't) -- so what more should I have to give up? However, the idea of Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday...Now that's a concept I can grasp! All you can eat, drink, and be merry until Ash Wednesday.
So my question was, what in the world do those beads have to do with Mardi Gras?
The bead phenomena is a relatively new one considering that while the first Mardi Gras parade in New Orleans occurred in the 1830s, the tradition of throwing beads didn't occur until sometime in the 1920s with the advent of the Rex parade.
However, many people don't know that the traditional Mardi Gras bead color scheme: purple, green, and gold holds special meaning as well. The Purple, represents justice; the Green symbolizes faith; and the Gold exemplifies power. With each passing year, the Mardi Gras bead industry grows. Parade goers shout "throw me something, Mister!" to catch the attention of those on the floats passing by. In addition to beads, parade Krewes toss other trinkets to the crowds to make their parade unique. In recent years Frisbees, plastic cups, and even doubloons all marked with the specific parade Krewes name and logo have been thrown to thousands of Mardi Gras goers. Though one of the more unique and sought-after throws, among Mardi Gras aficionados, is distributed by the Zulu Aid & Pleasure club. Hand-painted coconuts! Imagine getting crocked with an eleven pound tchotchke! Good thing the Zulus hand them out in bags.
But the beads and necklaces remain the most popular Mardi Gras souvenir. And it is not uncommon for members of parade Krewes to spend an average of eight hundred to two thousand dollars per parade ride on the beads. In recent years, the distribution of beads has been equated to rowdy behavior along the parade route. Women flash their breasts to "earn their beads." For better or worse, as flesh-baring exhibitionism has evolved into a traditional Mardi Gras pastime, “Show Your Tits!” has become as much a part of the Carnival lexicon as “Throw me something, mister!”
So, how did it all start? Innocently enough. One theory holds that when float parades were banned from the French Quarter’s narrow streets in 1973, locals with access to Mardi Gras trinkets and French Quarter balconies invented a new form of entertainment to fill the void: the flesh-for-beads show. The good thing is that contrary to a popular misnomer, you don’t have to flash to obtain good beads for free at Mardi Gras. Parades are an unbridled bounty of beads and collectible tchotchkes — if you’re willing to make the effort. Some individuals excel at getting a ton of throws from float riders without even pretending to lift their shirts. They just make a lot of noise, and know how to work it. Watch them and learn.
Oh, and if you're ever in New Orleans for Mardi Gras, beware of the lethal neon-green alcoholic concoctions known as Hand Grenades. They've been known to lubricate the transformation of even the most modest girl next door into a brazenly willful exhibitionist.
author of The Lady is a Vamp
Forget Me Not
To Catch a Casanova
Fire rages, not only through the forest to threaten the lives of his clan, but in the hearts of Tarek, the leader as well as Inuka, his fiery lover and Raven, the stoic companion who secretly adores him. Can the flames of their love survive?
The amulet around his neck glows with fiery heat. Darkly handsome Tarek would just as soon ignore the warning and resume frolicking with his seductive companion, Inuka. But as the leader of the bear changeling clan, responsibility rests on his shoulders. Suddenly, the warmth of the talisman is overwhelming, and its meaning becomes clear.
Wildfire races through the forest threatening everyone, and everything, in its path. The bears must retreat to their winter caves for safety. The journey is long and time proves short. As flames dance from the treetops, sparks explode and embers shower the fleeing clan.
Not all are as strong and able-bodied as Tarek and his muscular mate Inuka. Seeing the clan members to safety is Tarek's primary concern. When their escape doesn't go as planned, the burden of his obligation may be too much for one man-or one bruin- to bear.
And now, a never-before-seen steamy excerpt from Bear Combustion:
Tarek jerked his arm away. "No! Leave me alone! I don't want to be the responsible one anymore. I don't want everyone to need me." He strode off through the grove of trees. He just wanted to escape and be free of the weight he'd carried for so long.
"Oh, no you don't." Inuka jogged after him. "It's not that easy, Tarek. You just don't get to quit."
"Leave me!" he snarled, fighting the tears that threatened. His demeanour wasn't very leader-like, but he couldn't help his feelings. Suddenly everything seemed too overwhelming.
"So this is how you react to crisis? By feeling sorry for yourself?" Inuka called.
He froze then whirled around. "I don't feel sorry for myself! I'm sorry I fucked everything up so badly! I made a mistake, Inuka. Can't you get that through your thick skull?"
Inuka poked him in the chest. "Which mistake? Bringing us here or fucking me? Raven blames you for both."
"I can't handle this right now." Tarek looked to the sky and roared. "I don't know what to do or how to please everyone."
With both hands, Inuka grasped his forearms. His face was as red as Tarek had ever seen it and his tone was harsh. "No one expects you to please everyone. But you do not get to quit. Pick yourself up, dust off your loincloth and move on. Life goes on, Tarek. Everyone back in that cave is looking to you for proof of that. We're waiting for you to tell us what to do next. Don't let us down now."
"Bastard!" Tarek rumbled.
"You know it!" Inuka growled right back at him, his expression set with determination.
Tarek grabbed him and pressed their lips together. Frustration turned to hunger as Inuka moaned and opened his mouth to Tarek's tongue. His erection sprang to life harder than he ever remembered it being.
Inuka groped at his shoulders and chest then lowered his hands and tugged off Tarek's loincloth. He jerked his own away and pressed their groins together.
Glancing around, Tarek spotted a flat rock formation a few yards beyond the edge of the grove they'd come to. Clasping one hand on Inuka's arse to hold him close, he walked him backwards, kissing and clutching all the way.
When Inuka's back touched the stone, he moaned and nipped at Tarek's tongue. With the firmness only a lover could possess, he cupped Tarek's cock and balls, stroking him until Tarek gritted his teeth with pleasure.
Brushing his thumb over the head of Inuka's rock-hard shaft, Tarek gathered a drop of pre-cum and smoothed it across the head of his own crown. Covering Inuka's hand with his, he forced a thrusting motion to encourage his cock to provide more lubrication.
A sticky ribbon was his reward. Tarek raised one of Inuka's legs and held it up by the knee. Staring into his lover's eyes, the lust he saw there took his breath and made his hand shake as he nudged the head of his cock to the dark, puckered anus. Tarek already knew this man well. The hole ached to be filled as badly as he desired to fill it.
"Yes!" Inuka groaned.
Excitement flowed through Tarek and he forced himself to proceed slowly. Inuka hadn't been stretched properly, but if he could show restraint there'd be no problem. Maintaining eye contact, he pressed his cock forward then eased it back. Several more thrusts and Inuka's outer ring gave way, accepting his cock fully.
He drove deep, pressing them back against the rock.
"That's it," Inuka murmured. "Damn, yeah. Fill me up. Do it. I need it, Tarek."
His thrusts increased in speed and passion. Inuka's stream of mutterings caused Tarek's balls to draw up, an intense orgasm threatening. His Dark Warrior had quickly learned how much he loved to hear him talk during sex. Tarek finally broke eye contact so he could press his head into Inuka's shoulder and let the man murmur into his ear.
"Fuck me, Tarek. Damn, I love this. I love you."
Looking down, Tarek watched his cock slide in and out of the tight channel. He pressed up on Inuka's raised leg and groaned, release imminent.
"Come on, my love. Give it to me. I crave it," Inuka gasped.
With the lustful words racing around in his mind, Tarek lost the last vestige of control, his climax overtaking him. Shuddering, he fought to remain upright. Glorious sensations washed through his body as he pumped himself into Inuka. When he could move, he pulled back enough to palm the leaking cock stabbing his belly. Stroking up and down firmly, it took just moments for his mate to erupt, spraying them both with streams of warm cum.
Inuka panted, fighting for air.
Tarek lowered the raised leg carefully, reluctantly easing his cock from the clutching hole where he envisioned spending a lifetime. He backed off so Inuka could breathe. "Fuck," he muttered.
"My thoughts exactly."
He turned his back to the rocks and leaned against them, Inuka at his side. Something caught his attention, and from the corner of his eye he spotted Raven watching them from the safety of the underbrush. The man appeared freshly bathed and was naked, his cock standing firm. He stroked himself and for a moment his eyes met Tarek's.
Copyright (C) 2009 Jamie Hill and Jude MasonBuy Now!
Creations are beings made by science, not the gods, and calling someone a "drun" is the same as calling them an *sshole or sh*t.
But what about our language? Words like tactile, fury, kindle, and erotic all have a bite. They don't roll off the tongue, but jump off, stirring images and creating tension. Call me a geek, but I enjoy looking through the dictionary for new words. When I type, my handy thesaurus sits right next to me. (Unfortunately, MS Word doesn't always offer the best alternatives when I need another word for "sensual.")
George Carlin, a terrific comedian, once did a funny bit about the "Seven Words You Can't Say on Television." The clip below brough him, and this post, to mind. It's hilarious, and speaks about the versatility of one special word, a word that can be used as a noun, a verb, an adjective, and so much more. This word, I believe, is the true king of the dictionary. And it means many things to many different people. So take a gander, and enjoy!
Meet me at Indulgence. Noon today. I want you naked in the Wet Area.
Keane Daniels has received an anonymous note summoning him to Indulgence, the largest gay spa and bathhouse in
Rayche Marquette has wanted Keane since hiring him, but being his boss means Keane’s off limits…until Rayche decides he can wait no longer and reserves the Wet Area of the spa so the two of them can spend a Naughty Nooner together.
Rayche and Keane meet in the elegant shower area, but when Keane discovers the sender of the note is his boss, his reaction is not what Rayche expects. Keane rebuffs him, thinking the noon hour adventure is a lark for Rayche, a meaningless liaison. So Rayche sets out to convince him, both with words and his body, how very important Keane is to him.
Since the story is set in Toronto, Keane and Rayche want you to see the beautiful skyline of the city at night.
When Keane arrives at Indulgence for his naughty nooner, he heads to the locker room to get rid of his clothes and start his adventure. Here he is putting away the last of his stuff.
He makes his way to the opulent shower room which is empty, reserved for him and his mystery lover. Here's what the area would normally look like. Oh to be that rubber ducky!
Keane is joined by the sender of the anonymous note.
Indulgence is beautiful with an outdoor patio,
So after they experience all that, do you think this is Keane and Rayche's future?
Or how about this?
You'll have to check out Indulge Me in Naughty Nooners
available now from Total-e-Bound.
You can read an excerpt or the first chapter
on the book page of my website.
Check out Spa Excess
or watch eight short videos filmed there.
They're hot, hot, hot.
See you next month,
Tales to seduce and entice...
Hey Ya’ll! Well it’s almost time to hang up those heavy coats and sweaters and break out the shorts and sandals. I for one can not wait!!! And below I have a steamy excerpt to keep you warm until the weather helps.
First let me Thank Claire and Hitting the Hot Spot for letting me post today. Since my usual day is on the 30th and as you know we will not have 30 days this month, but I had to blog to tell you about my upcoming contest in March.
Now down to business… In ten days my second book release Seduced By The Neighbour will be out! I want to celebrate this exciting news to offer you a chance at a great prize.
Seduced by The Neighbour is a hot sexy story for the Lust Bites lovers. I personally love these quickie stories and am thrilled to have written one.
Sometimes a world of unimaginable pleasure can be found right next door.
Reader Advisory: This book contains light bondage.
Sound yummy??? Now onto the contest…
Seduced by the Neighbour will be released on March 2, 2009.
1. What did Matt bring for breakfast the morning he went to help Cara with her book?
2. What did Matt find in Cara's bedroom that started his seduction?
Just answer these two questions and send them to me at email@example.com with Seduced Contest as the subject.
I will announce the winner on March 28th!
So Good Luck and Happy Reading!!!
I hope you will all take advantage at the chance to win the gift voucher! Feel free to check my websites for more details and info on my upcoming releases in May.
I’ll leave you with a little more from Seduced… Crissy
Cara was shaking as Matt remained behind her. This was a new experience already. She wasn’t a virgin, but she had never had a man stare at her so intensely, Sex had always been done in the dark and in bed. She could feel the heat from her core and wanted Matt to put his fingers where hers had been earlier.
He moved back in front of her, and she could see the lust shining in his eyes. Her own gaze went to the front of his pants, and the proof that he was as turned on as she was unmistakable. When he leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers, she sighed at the long overdue kiss.
The kiss started out as a soft meeting of lips. When she moved forward and pressed her body against his, he placed his hands on both sides of her head holding her still. He nipped her bottom lip and ran his tongue over it to soothe. She opened her mouth to him. From there the kiss went up several degrees. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and took control of it and every sensation she felt. When he broke away, a small sound of protest escape her lips.
"Go to your bed and climb on top of it. Kneel on it, keeping your face away from me.
Keep your legs spread shoulder length apart. Your hands behind your back. Your head bent back with your hair down your back. Keep your eyes open, Cara."
My new favorite TV show these days is The Mentalist. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen it. It’s cute and funny, if not really the most intellectually stimulating show around, lol. But with Simon Baker and Tim Kang in it, who cares!
Australian actor Simon Baker plays Patrick Jain, a mentalist, working as a consultant for a homicide department in California. I’d never heard of a mentalist before but apparently it’s someone who can put together a psychological portrait and history of a person just by observing his or her behavior and appearance. He’s a lot like House and Sherlock Holmes in this way, but it’s always fun to watch.
Truthfully, these two men perfectly fit my visuals for Timmy and Basho in “Yin Yang” and possibly John and Toshi in His Beautiful Samurai and in Beautiful Samurai, White Tiger.
My boyfriend teases me when we watch this show. He observes my behavior and can deduce that I find these guys very attractive the way I squirm in my seat. He says to me, “You can’t decide which of these guys you like better.” Truth to tell, I kind of like Simon better. However, given my druthers, being an M/M author, I’d happily pair the two of them together. Whenever they have a scene where they’re standing near each other, I feel this way. In one scene, the two of them were arguing about something and inside I was begging, “Please, kiss!” That shows you how my evil mind works. lol
With the planning for the wedding filling my mind I started thinking of other weddings I have attended. I was thinking of some of my most memorable weddings moments for weddings I have been too. My most memorable that comes to mind is when I was about eight. At eight the wedding was long and I was so thirsty so when I got to the reception I picked up a glass off the table and drank it. I couldn’t figure out why the cup was so small and the water tasted bad. Since I was still thirsty I went down the table and drank all the glasses on the table then was on my way up the other side when my mom caught me. She scolded me and was horrified I had drunk almost all the glasses on the table.
What I didn’t realize at the time it was champagne. LOL. I was a really sleepy for the rest of reception. LOL. That was my first brush with champagne. When I got home I was out like a light. I still remember the headache I had the day after. Ow. Since then I have of course learned the difference between water and champagne. (grin)
What are some of your most memorable wedding moments?
…increasing the sizzle factor
Chat Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/crenshawcafe
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Two weeks ago I turned fifty six. Two weeks before that, on the advice of my gynecologist, I stopped taking oral contraceptives in order to evaluate whether I’m in menopause.
This is something that I’ve been dreading. I’ve heard horror stories about menopause from my older friends – face beet-red and clothing drenched with sweat in the middle of a business meeting, insomnia, painful sex (and I’m not talking about BDSM!), dark mustaches... I wanted to pretend I’m still a sexy young thing for as long as possible! But continuing on the Pill apparently had health risks, so reluctantly, I agreed to follow my doctor’s recommendation.
Now, after a month, I think I’ve been having some hot flashes. It’s difficult to tell for sure, since I live in a tropical country where the usual temperature ranges from 26-40 degrees Celsius (79-104 degrees Farenheit). I’ve been sweating pretty much ever since I moved here! Lately, though, for a few minutes a few times a day, I feel as though I’m standing very close to an open fire. My cheeks burn. My level of sweatiness increases marginally. Then the sensations dissipate and I go back to being just normally hot.
So far, it’s not too bad. Maybe the symptoms will get worse, but maybe they won’t – I’ve read that diet can affect the severity, and I eat fairly lots of fruits and vegetables, which contain phytoestrogens (natural hormone analogues). I can only hope!
Meanwhile, this experience has made me realize that almost all my heroines are young women – usually in the range of 27-35. Probably I gravitate to this age range because that’s the period in my own life when I had my most exciting amorous adventures. I’ve come to the conclusion that this is pretty limiting, however. After all, many of my readers are my age or older. For my next story, I’ve decided to create a healthy, sexy, powerful heroine who is in her fifties – like me.
Maya’s been around. She has seen and experienced a great deal, and had many lovers, including two husbands. At this point in her life (unlike me), she has become cynical about love. She’s sexually dominant and enjoys going to play parties where she can exorcise her need for control by topping the many subs eager for her discipline, but she doesn’t believe in long-term relationships. It takes Lorenzo, a dark, handsome young Dom considerably younger than Maya, to expose and satisfy her deeper need to completely surrender her body and her heart.
For the past few days, Mistress Maya has taken over my imagination, striding back and forth in her thigh-high stiletto-heeled boots, cracking her whip and demanding that I get to work writing her story.
I guess I’d better stop blogging and get to it!
I know. You were all expecting Chris! Well, she has graciously and gracefully turned over her day to post and I must say I am happy to be here with fantabulous authors at Hitting the Hot-Spot :-)
So for my inaugural post, I thought I would talk about one of my favorite topics...COWBOYS!!!
Now who doesn't love a cowboy? Their....
And they have this swagger about them you just can't resist.
From rodeo stars to Brokeback Mountain, we can't help but love and adore these rugged men from the top of their Stetsons all the way down to their steel toe boots. Their known for riding horses, roping cattle, or stealing ladies' hearts.
I live out West (in the U.S.) in the desert so I see cowboys all the time. Their gentlemen, but there is nothing soft about them. I get tingles just thinking about that slow, subtle drawl of theirs. I don't know what it is, but I swear every cowboy I meet has a sexy, natural way about them.
I love writing about cowboys too because to me they are the ultimate archetype of pure masculinity. And of course, you know I have my favorite cowboy....country music singer Keith Anderson. Six foot five, perfect smile and he can sing too!
So, who doesn't love a cowboy? I know you do. It could be the real thing--Garth Brooks or adorable Jake Gyllenhal who just plays one, but you have to admit their is nothing sexier than a cowboy and I would love to hear who your fav cowboy is.
I hit the jackpot it seems and get to wish you all the most romantic, sexy Valentine's Day ever! So, me and Mr. Gorgeous above, hope you and your special someone are enjoying the most fabulous day imaginable!
For myself, and my wonderful, sexy, husband, we have our own plans for celebration. As some of you know, our children are grown and gone now, with families of their own. Whoo hooo! (This is called 'success!') So, our time is more or less our own, usually. We do still have the aging parents to care for at times, but mostly it's just sexy hubby and me. This is a gorgeous time of life, trust me.
So, by the time this post is live, I'll be treating my man to a breakfast in bed. Something light and tasty as we're both dieting, and being successful at it I might add. A small bowl of oatmeal and a larger bowl of fruit, shared. Add a cup of coffee and you have two very happy people. After that, well, I'm going to let you use your imagination...LOL You didn't really think I was going to drag you into our bed did you?
Over the years, hubby and I have shared a huge number of Valentine's Days, birthdays, Christmas' and all those other celebratory events. I've found that in most ways, we're not what you might call a touchy feely couple. We do love each other, and show it often, but not in what you could call a romantic way. We rarely eat by candlelight. But, we do hold hands a lot. We don't send each other chocolates, but we do spend time together. Cut flowers remind me too much of funerals to be thought of as romantic, but you give me a man who will clean my kitchen and I'll melt in his arms. A man who will care for me when I'm deathly ill, a man who has seen me at my very worst, and my very best, and still loves me, that's what it's all about in my books. I'll make my man's day the most exciting I can. But, I'll do that at other times too. The Valentine's feeling can be celebrated on any day, and is in my house. I adore surprising him with a hot bath and a back rub. Yum. I swoon when he brings me coffee in the morning, and he's naked.
So, what do you have planned for your special day? A naked lunch? A dinner served by a sexy waitress wearing nothing but an apron? I'd love to know.
It’s difficult for me to choose one part I like best because there are so many luscious parts that make up a man, but I decided to challenge myself.
The verdict: Eyes.
The eyes do it for me, though strong hands and a tight ass are tied for second.
What is it about the eyes? That is a little more difficult for me to pin down. I judge a lot by the eyes. Are they the windows into the soul? Maybe. They can evoke all sorts of emotions. Sexy. Brooding. Playful. Seductive. Curiosity. Anger. Lust. Fear. Those are just a few of course.
But I think my preference for the eyes is how a man makes me feel when I’m with him. I want a man to look at me in a way that I know I’m his. A sensual stare that makes my legs feel like I’ve been peddling for five non-stop hours in spin class. A half-lidded gaze that ensures I’ll have to change my panties before I go anywhere or risk a lot of questions. A look of hunger that radiates I’m going to get a licking between my thighs like I’ve never experienced before.
Does color matter? If he’s looking at me with one of the above scenarios – hell no. My preference leans toward blue eyes. Maybe because my husband’s eyes are blue and I can stare into them forever. Maybe I’m just drawn to blue because it’s my favorite color.
Regardless, the eyes have it for me. One look and I melt. What is yours?
~Ann Cory http://www.anncory.com/
I had a discussion (many discussions, in fact) with an author friend of mine about how people in my life view my writing career. Or rather, in their opinion, my lack of career.
The fact that I'm at home seems to give others the impression that I'm free and available to do things for them. I can't tell you how many times someone in my family has called me to see if I can, say, go hang out at their house to wait for a utility person because they have to work. They think it's no big deal for me to go hang out at their house from 8am-2pm waiting for the cable dude. Or watch their kids when it's a school holiday, but they don't get it off of work.
Now, don't get me wrong. I don't mind helping out, but when these requests came more and more often, it started to tick me off. What I do seems to be of less value than what they do. If someone asked what I did that day, and I responded that I finished a difficult chapter, I'd get "Oh is that all?" as a response. That always gets my blood boiling. LOL
It took me a long time to be able to say no to people. I like to help out and make others happy, but I realized that by doing that as often as I was, I was doing myself a disservice. I put my writing on the back burner for everyone else, as if it isn't as valuable as what they do. I was reinforcing their opinions by saying yes to each of their requests.
Is it easy saying no? Definitely not. However, I've made the decision that writing is my career, not a hobby. I have to start treating it as such, because if I don't, how on earth can I expect anyone else to?
Real Women, Irresistible Men, Endless Possiblities
I have a question for you. How many of you are dual nature people? Do you ever stop to ponder that?
Let me give you my example. I’m a bisexual erotic romance writer who is into fetish clothing and the lifestyle, albeit in a minor way. I enjoy cross dressing, yet when I’m dressed as a woman, I am still very dominant and somewhat vicious. I hate men who try to pick me up online (you DO look and flirt, don’t you?) and think they can either be rough with me because I’m a male who wants to be a slut, or soft and tender because I’m wearing women’s underwear.
Yet I’m also the first one to crack out the single tail, offer knife play to my submissives, and just end up with some rough sex.
Also, I write romance. That’s not entirely a normal thing for most men, is it?
I think it’s just part of who I am that makes me, me. I’ve never been conventional or normal by any standards and who amongst us enjoys “that?”
I think it also makes me an interesting person. I did an interview with an author recently at RWA and was just muttering to myself about a pair of panties in my laptop case and she said “really?” I looked at her, smile on my face and said ‘Yup. I’m a cross dresser.”
I got a big ooh and ahh haha!
Needless to say that interview was fun.
Dual nature in our characters is something else. Do we see examples of a character who seems to have two faces? We sure do. All those “assholish alpha males” we love so much tend towards dual nature. On the one hand, they’re great, big powerful and strong on the other, they’re sweet and sensitive when the authors have created the best character arc they can to emphasize the romance aspect.
So what say you, readers? Do you enjoy dual nautred characters? Who are some of your favorite?
I actually wrote most of this blog this summer and posted it on my website, but I liked the idea so much, I've re-edited it and am re-posting it. Hope you enjoy it.
"Kiss" can be used as a verb (I kissed the baby), a noun (The kiss deepened as he wrapped his arms around me), an adjective (She is completely kissable). As a lover of grammar, I am naturally drawn to the word's versatility. As a woman, I'm drawn to the word's meaning. Often, a kiss is the prelude to a lovely encounter. Sometimes, it finalizes the end of a visit or worse, an entire relationship. It can be a greeting, in some cultures, the sealing of a contract. People kiss each other to show affection, sympathy, welcome, love.
Some kisses last a lifetime.
My first kiss (boy/girl kiss, that is): I was 14 years old. Skinny, freckled, frizzy hair. His name was David. Tall, frizzier hair than mine - okay, it was an afro - soft, bedroom eyes. It was after a chorus practice and he kissed me on a dare. I melted. I'd been reading romance novels for years and had read that phrase, but hadn't understood it until that moment. I wanted to live in his arms. His soft lips touched mine, gently opening my lips. I felt his tongue slip in, touch mine gently, then with growing demand. It lasted - a friend actually timed it - 6 minutes. David taught me to kiss, and beautifully so. The Kiss has, since then, been my favourite erotic activity since then.
My first kiss with my future husband: I was 15, he was 15. I, being the more experienced kisser, took him in hand. I was the first girl he had kissed, which is ironic, since (big secret here) he was the man I later gave my virginity to! Honestly, it wasn't a great kiss, but it was very, very sweet and, we got better at it as time went on. Once we actually kissed lying on the beach with ocean waves rolling over us - just like in the movies. Now THAT was incredible!
Baby: Yep. You guessed it. The first kiss I laid on my first baby's head. No one and nothing can ever compare to the beauty and pure love of that moment. Next, the first wet, slobbery kiss he gave me. If it had been possible, I'd have save the slobber in a Waterford goblet as a treasure for those trying teenage years. I'm proud to say, that even now when he is an all grown up 20 year old college student, he still kisses me. I love that boy.
Various others. Over the years, others have shared a kiss with me, but it would be indiscreet to name names. Therefore, I'll just describe a few. I've been kissed to the point of orgasm - completely dressed and the only physical contact with the person was the KISS. Quick pecks which give comfort and security. Kisses of promised friendship. Kisses of remembered and still felt love. Sweet kisses from children. Heartbreaking kisses from mourners and well-wishers. Papery thin kisses from the elderly, all the more precious because of the sincerity. Stolen kisses, public kisses.
Kissing is a passion of mine, probably because kisses define passion.
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Just for fun, I tried to write some.
I tried to write a first person POV account of a girl who married a man who claimed he was rich, and found out she'd married a homeless, jobless, pathological liar. I couldn't.
I can write fiction all day long, but as soon as I tried to write something that was supposed to be true, my creativity dried up.
I tried again.
I started with a woman who's husband turns out to be a woman. I got stuck. I couldn't write a word. It was awful. But when the husband turned into an alien, I was off and running. Extra appendages, different planet, silver spaceship - no problem.
I tried again.
This time I was a girl sold into slavery by her deliquent aunt to pay her gambling debts. I got to the part where I was slaving away in the basement washing the laundry for the sleazy hotel when I got stuck again, and it was not until my mother's ghost came and talked to me was I able to get the story going again - of course, Truest Confessions told me they didn't accept 'paranormal' stories. (Unless they were true - or confessions, I suppose.)
So here I am - a fiction writer incapable of making up true confessions. It's aggravating.
I will have to stick to things I know - like making up stories...period!