One Girl, Three Guys

Play for Keeps was a blast to write; my house was buried in snow butI had Keera and her two guys to keep her warm. Well, actually--her three guys--if you count the one she had some fun with in a park before running into Dom and Jace.

PLAY FOR KEEPS is out now.

Here's a taste:

Wasn’t ten minutes enough? Where was her mind-blowing orgasm?

Keera rolled to her side and pulled out the directional pamphlet that came discreetly folded up and tucked away in the package with the vibrator. She reread the section for first timers. For the third time.

It wasn’t fair. She’d done everything right.

Sure—it felt damn good, but something was seriously missing. Either that or something was seriously wrong.

She wasn’t about to accept the idea that something was wrong—she’d had lots of decent orgasms before.

Over thinking everything, that had to be the problem.

She’d come damn fast with a total stranger—right in the grass—in a public place.

Now that she considered, most of those orgasms had been a while ago, before she’d been surrounded by toys and sex talk day and night. And bombarded by the notion that she should be a walking talking ad for hot, wild sex twenty-four hours a day.

Somehow, she had to sort this problem out. She grabbed the package again.

The vibrator promised ‘awe-inspiring sensations.’ Where were they? All she felt was a vague sensation, a slow gentle heat filling her pussy. Her whole body tingled, all her nerve endings were sensitive and alert, but that was as far as things went. Where was the rest of it?

Damn.

She wasn’t turned on, she was irritated and…and…something she couldn’t identify. Whatever it was she wouldn’t label it as a good thing. It was sort of an all-consuming sensation that wouldn’t get better or get worse. It just was.

And whatever it was it wasn’t going away.

And she wasn’t going to take the easy way out and masturbate. Somehow that seemed just too pathetic.

Thoroughly annoyed, Keera slipped the vibrator out and kicked it to the bottom of her sleeping bag. Maybe she’d try it again tomorrow morning but for now she needed to get some fresh air, maybe walk off the lingering tension tugging on her nerves, thanks to the stupid, fucking toy.

The pun wasn’t lost on Keera, but she was too frustrated to laugh as she pulled on her sweatpants, getting ready to slip out of her tent and get some much needed fresh air.

“Hey man, you got any smokes?”

Keera bolted up, holding the tie to her pants with both hands.

What the hell?

Does Size Really Matter?

Okay, I'm talking about book length, but I love where your mind was headed. You see, I just finished writing my second short story and it got me wondering if your preference to write epic tales over short pieces was inherent, almost genetic, and thus, hard to change. Not that your actual writing is different. Regardless of length, every story has the same elements in it. But there is a certain amount of flair required for writing short pieces... this coming from a person who loves to draw things out.

So does this mean somewhere in my brain there's a code for having grand ideas? That's how it feels. Whenever the characters of a future book start nattering away in my head, they don't just have quick, fleeting adventures in mind. They want to roam across the land, taking several paths before arriving at their destination. And I love following them. But as I look at the path of erotic books, it seems more and more authors are writing shorter offerings. Novellas jump off the electric shelves like hot cakes and I'm left wondering if long novels are becoming a thing of the past. It seems logical in some ways. In this era of instant gratification, are we becoming less patient to sit down and only read a few chapters of a book rather than the entire story? Do we stretch our time so thin we don't have enough to spend reading a novel that will take us a week to finish? Do we just want to know how it ends, period?

I'm not sure if I have any answers. I enjoy reading all book lengths , but I love writing long ones. 90,000 words is a good length for me. I have enough time to indulge in lots of adventure, and of course, steamy romantic sex, but not so long I've lost the will to keep writing. And I can't help but wonder if this stems from growing up glued to the likes of Stephen King, whose idea of a novel usually involves at least 120,000 words. I've read series that took ten books to finish and novels I've spent weeks getting through. I'm comfortable at this length. But will they sell?

I suppose that's the ultimate question. Not whether I love writing long stories, but do readers love reading them. I would like to think there are still folks who enjoy sinking into a book a few chapters at a time, or maybe I just want this because I find writing short stories more challenging. Perhaps it's because you have to pinpoint your ideas. Instead of looking at part of a character's life, you almost need to concentrate more on one event in their life. After all 15,000 words doesn't leave much room to explore more than a specific moment, say an evening, or a wedding, or maybe an afternoon trapped in an abandoned barn. What I'm getting at is, you need to organize your thoughts and stay on track. And I wonder if I'm the only one who finds this hard. (Of course if you examined my life you'd soon discover organization is not my strong suit.) As soon as I start writing I think of all these other ways my characters can interact and I just want to expand on every idea. It takes a lot of self control to stay on track and concentrate on that one main objective.

I have to say I'm a bit envious of authors who can school their thoughts into these tasty little bites. Who seem to be able to pick out the perfect scenario they can curtail into forty pages, but still leave you feeling satisfied with the tale they've woven. It seems like a remarkable talent and I'd be lying if I didn't confess I curse them as I force myself to, once again, rein it all in. But then I guess that's the beauty of writing. We all have our strengths and strive to better ourselves. I do enjoy looking at a short and thinking, yes, that did condense down nicely... all the while plotting all the wonderful trouble my characters could get into if I could just add 5,000 more words.

So what's your preference? Does size really matter? Or is it the story that draws you in? I'd love to know your thoughts, though I think I'll always struggle to contain mine.

Thanks for dropping by and see you next month.

Kris Norris

Romancing life...one adventure at a time.

krisnorris.ca

Covers that refect the book.

I have missed two months of posts because June and May have been wild. But Im back, with a vengence and am SO excited! We have some new covers I havent shown off yet, and while I do that, Im going to talk about the levels of sexy.

While Im a cover artist in my other life, with TEB I find it very easy to just let it go and trust the cover artists they have. I love the artwork that TEB has, always have, and its one of the main reasons why we submitted here. My biggest reason: Levels of sexy. TEB covers are very sexy, but they are always tasteful and reflect a level I think the author wants to portray.

We recently got two covers from TEB and they refect the level of sexy that we were trying to portray with the stories perfectly.

For A Gift of Daybreak, the female lead is very demure, but sexy. Shes the only non venomous snake in a nest of vipers (literally) and is a real child of the desert. Because of this, shes not overtly sexy. No makeup, no wild clothes, just jeans and baithing suits and running clothes. So we wanted something that was sexy, and unassuming, something that could be anybody, that didnt have an idenitiy, because Fajer doesnt really have one until later in the story. As you can see, the cover we received was beautiful, and so close to what we envisioned. We just love it, and the color.

For our forth coming first book in our American Satyrs series, the society they live in is decadence, very proper, but sexy isn't all makeup and dress up. The main female character, Minerva, is a young Satyr princess, and a woman being given over to a man shes never met before. She coddled, and sheltered, and her life revolves around serving her Satyr, but she is a princess, one of the only females that have survived to maturity in the Satyr society. for her glamorous is dresses made of jewels, and a collar fit forever on her neck. We had a specific idea in mind for this book's cover. One where we had the castle (Belvedere Castle in NYC) and a sexy woman that was both glamorous and natural. Isnt it beautiful? We are very happy with this cover. It fits Minerva to a T.

So by now you probably have guessed that Audra and I like women on our covers. Why, when everyone wants to see a hard bodied man on there? Well, its because Audra and I like to focus on our females for the covers. The guys we write arent always muscled, and hard bodied, but the women we write are always beautiful, sexy and natural.

You will also notice we rarely have a face on a cover. Its because we dont want to give the reader a preconcieved notion of the character. The faces we find are rarely, if ever, the characters we envision, so its safer to just do bodies. Though for the Satyrs story, the woman looks very much like Minerva.

So I hope you will check both the books out when they release, and let us know what you think of the Cover to character ratio. Does it really show the character like we want? How do you feel about women on covers? Do you prefer those that are made up to look overly sexy? Or do you like men on the cover all the time, regardless?

Time To Do - Available Now!

I'll start with a confession - I have a bit of an obsession with To Do Lists.

I kept a ridiculous number of them, mostly on spreadsheets since I started spending all my time on the computer - makes my world so much easier to colour code.

Writing To Do Lists. Editing To Do Lists. Promo lists. Even some lists that revolve around the world that exists outside my own head, lol. I fill my life with the little lists.

And I have the big lists of course - the things I want to do with my life right now, tomorrow, twenty years from now. What can I say, I'm a planner by nature!

But the character I want to introduce you to today isn't a planner. Rigby isn't the sort of guy who writes To Do lists on a whim. So, when his friend Brennan finds one, he can't help but be curious. Their story has just been released by TEB - here's a bit more about it:

Blurb:

The words have sex with a man can change everything, especially when they’re written on a straight man’s to do list.

Rigby and Brennan have been best friends forever. Growing up and going away to university didn’t alter that. Brennan coming out of the closet to his straight best friend didn’t change anything either.

But when Brennan finds an old to do list mixed in with his friend’s possessions, and sees have sex with a man written right there at the top, it alters everything. When Brennan realises the man he’s in love with isn’t as straight as he’d always thought he was, their friendship changes beyond all recognition.

When the friends decide it’s time to start ticking off all the items on Rigby’s gay to do list, they soon realise nothing will ever be the same - for either of them.

And here’s a quick excerpt:

Brennan Talbot was not going to stare at his best friend’s arse. There was a line a gay man didn’t cross while sharing a room with his straight best friend. He was going to stay on the right side of that line even if it killed him.

Turning around, Brennan held back a sigh. If he could just keep Rigby from bending over all the time, his life would be a hell of a lot easier. His friend possessed a truly wonderful backside, not to mention a preference for very tight jeans.

Brennan picked up yet another of Rigby’s text books off the floor and placed it on his desk. “Where do you get all this stuff from anyway?” he asked.

Brennan risked a glance over his shoulder. At least his friend was standing up straight now.

Rigby shrugged. His shoulder muscles rippled under his t-shirt. He added another book to the growing pile on his desk. “It all just turns up somehow. Anyway, quit complaining. You’re the one who insisted we rediscover the floor today.”

Brennan looked around their room. Small patches of carpet were slowly starting to emerge between the layers of Rigby’s junk. “I go home for one weekend and a bomb explodes,” he muttered to himself. He doubted that Rigby was actually listening anyway. “You could at least have kept the debris on your side of the room.”

Rigby chuckled at the familiar complaint. The low deep sound filled the small room and made Brennan smile in spite of his annoyance.

“I was looking for my locker keys,” Rigby offered by way of explanation. “All the other stuff was in the way.”

“So you threw it on the floor?” Brennan asked, putting a folder of history notes on the desk.

“Well, I usually ask you where stuff is and you tell me. You weren’t here so I had to improvise. Are you studying The Fall of the Roman Empire?”

Brennan glanced at the book in Rigby’s hand. “Doesn’t really fit in with a Physics degree, does it?”

“Then I guess this one’s mine, too.” Rigby frowned at it and put it on the shelf above his desk. “I don’t suppose you want to take a break and get something to eat?”

Brennan looked at the containers of food his mother sent back to the university with him. It was tempting, but he knew if they stopped before the floor was clear, the room would remain in the same state until the end of term.

“No,” he said firmly. “Floor first, then food. I’ll even share the cake my Mum made if we finish it in the next hour.”

“That’s blackmail,” Rigby complained.

“I think you’ll find it’s bribery,” Brennan corrected absentmindedly. He picked another folder up off the floor and read the title scrawled across it in Rigby’s handwriting—stuff. Well, that was informative.

Brennan tossed it towards Rigby’s desk. As it landed, the edge of the cardboard folder collapsed. Papers snowed down to the floor. Kneeling on a rare patch of carpet to pick them up, Brennan skimmed over a few lines on the top page.

It wasn’t really snooping when the papers were spread out all over the carpet for anyone to read. Anyway, he’d known Rigby since they started nursery school. They didn’t have any secrets from each other. Or to be entirely accurate, Brennan corrected himself, Rigby didn’t have any secrets from him.

A glance identified it as some sort of to do list. Such a rare sign of organisation in Rigby’s life had to be worth investigating further. Brennan read point number one—get drunk, and grinned. That was more like the Rigby he knew. There was a decisive tick by that point.

When Brennan read point number two—go skinny dipping— there was no chance he’d stop reading. An image of Rigby bare arse naked flashed across his mind and dropped straight to his crotch. That particular image had been carefully constructed over several months of sideways glances, but it was far from up to date.

Brennan might know he’d never get more than friendship from Rigby, but he wasn’t prepared to lose that friendship by sneaking a peek at Rigby’s cock in the showers after rugby practise. Not when the possibility of passing off his actions as teenage curiosity, or an innocently heterosexual interest in making comparisons, died the day he told Rigby he was gay.

There wasn’t a tick next to skinny dipping. He wondered if it would it be considered morally wrong to convince a straight guy to go skinny dipping with him just so he could check him out. While he tried to work that out, Brennan’s eyes trailed down to the next item on Rigby’s to do list.

Have sex with a girl. Like he needed any extra proof Rigby was as straight as they come. It was very definitely ticked off. Rigby had happily worked his way through the female half of the university population since they’d arrived on campus. Brennan gave another mental sigh. Sometimes it took a hell of a lot of effort for him to pretend he was pleased for his friend about that.

He skipped through all the other ticked off points under the heading—each one representing one of the many and varied things Rigby wanted to do, and without exception had done, with girls.

Brennan went straight to point number four.

Have sex with a guy.

He blinked at the piece of paper. He read it again. He read it a third time, running his fingertip under the line of words, making sure there wasn’t any other explanation. Rigby’s spelling and his handwriting were terrible, but there weren’t any long words in the sentence for him to get wrong.

Guy.

Sex.

All the important points were certainly there.

Thanks for reading. If you want to find out more about Time To Do, it’s available here.

Kim Dare.
Kink, love and a happy ending. Do you Dare?

Rough Ride!

Colorado is generally blessed with gorgeous weather (snow not withstanding!), but last week, an unexpected storm caught us by surprise.

My mom, my sis, and my aunt were all hit by a tornado.

Thankfully, there were no injuries to my family members, but the devastation was horrific. My sister lost six windows. Both of her cars were damaged. Her camper was destroyed, along with all her flowers and lawn pretties.

Sixty-foot trees were uprooted.

Snowplows, dormant for months, were called out to clear the roads of hail! My brother-in-law shoveled hail from the drivway. The picture of the hail (above) was taken 24-hours after the storm.

Looking at my sister, I saw shattered dreams.

What happened next, though, was the true testament to hope and inspiration.

Family and friends came over, without being asked. We grabbed rakes and garbage bags to clean up shards of broken glass. We brought food and water. But most importantly, we brought a can-do attitude and a sense of community.

Really, isn't that what we write about? Isn't that why we read? We want to be swept away by a story of hope, a sense that we're not Lone Rangers in life.

I'm sorry for the loss of property my family endured. I'm profoundly grateful for their safety. And I'm enriched by the opportunity to have been helpful, to see the impact that all of us, working together, can have.

Even in devastation and destruction, the human spirit triumphs.

The V Spot

Just like making love begins in your head, being in love starts there, too.

I was amazed to find how just how much!

There are four tiny areas of the brain that form a ‘circuit of love.’ Just like we women have that famous ‘G spot’ – the brain has its own kind of G spot, too. The hot spot in our heads is called the VTA. I’m calling it...

The ‘V Spot.’

That little piece of your brain - the V Spot - is teardrop-shaped. When scientists did some magnetic resonance imaging on people who were newly in love, the VTA or V Spot in their brains lit up. It’s the same for people still madly in love twenty years later.

That V Spot in your head is the key reward system in your brain. According to researchers, your V spot becomes activated because you’re trying to win life’s greatest prize – a mate.

But, here’s the catch: Sometimes, love works chemically in the brain like an addiction. We all know the feeling: when romantic love is going well, it’s terrific, but it can be a terrible addiction if it going poorly.

I’m guessing that’s why people kill for love and die for love.

While connecting romantic love to the idea of addiction may sound awful, there are reasons we need or want to be in love, and that’s so we stay together with our mate. Our V Spot – the ventral palladium – is linked with attachment and hormones that decrease stress, so our ‘raphe nucleus’ – another part of the brain – pumps out lots and lots of serotonin, which gives us a sense of calm.

Here’s something I found fascinating:

Researchers studied the brain of the recently heartbroken and found there was all this other activity going on in a part of the brain called the nucleus accumbens, which is a part of the brain strongly associated with addiction. These scientists claim that the brokenhearted showed more evidence of craving – similar to cocaine.

No wonder we want to fall in love – and stay that way – so badly.

They key to staying in love is to get all those chemicals in your body going - keep up that stimulation. Go for lots of hugging and kissing. Touching. Rubbing.

Oh yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. I think I need to take a cold shower! LOL

I think we’ve all been so in love that it almost hurts. Now, I know why. And I also know why it hurts so much when we fall out of love. If someone tells you it is all in your head, well....they’re right.

Now excuse me while I go and stimulate a few chemicals in my body. (I’m sure my hubby will appreciate it.)



Catherine Chernow
http://www.catherinechernow.com/

Read DIARY OF A MAD ESCORT by Catherine Chernow
Available for sale from http://www.total-e-bound.com/authordetail.asp?A_ID=56#booklist

TWENTY LINES TO MAKE YOU SMILE

I didn't write these, but I did chuckle at them. Thought we could use a smile for the day. Have a good one! ~ Jenna

1. Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them.

2. I used to have a handle on life, but it broke.

3. Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.

4. Earth is the insane asylum for the universe.

5. I'm not a complete idiot -- some parts are just missing.

6. Some gene pools could use a little chlorine.

7. Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.

8. Being "over the hill" is much better than being under it!

9. Wrinkled was not one of the things I wanted to be when I grew up.

10. Procrastinate Now!

11. A hangover is the wrath of grapes.

12. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance.

13. Stupidity is not a handicap. Park elsewhere!

14. They call it PMS because Mad Cow Disease was already taken.

15. He who dies with the most toys is nonetheless DEAD.

16. A picture is worth a thousand words, but it uses up three thousand times the memory.

17. Ham and eggs, a day's work for a chicken, a lifetime commitment for a pig.

18. The trouble with life is there's no background music.

19. The original point and click interface was a Smith & Wesson.

20. I smile because I don't know what the heck is going on.

Man versus Wild...er, Woman

Confusion, or should I say, husband, be thy name?

The differences between men and women are often lamented, as well as celebrated, by therapists, comedians, and humorists alike. Nothing has been more apparent to me than the gender differences between myself and my husband this past week. He's on vacation, and I'm striving to be ultra nice while he's off. A real stretch considering our recent road trip.

On Monday we went to a water park in Atlanta. My husband is not a big believer in gently tapping the brakes, and I'm a paranoid passenger in the car. Needless to say, the trip was a terrifying experience for me, and annoying for him. We finally arrived at the park, thanks to my constant tapping of the "air brakes" and my insistent need to cling (for 2 hours) to the car door. He spent five minutes searching for a parking spot instead of listening to my wifely advice of, "Park anywhere and we'll walk to the entrance." Considering there were fifty or more parking spaces at the rear of the lot, I'm still not sure what took him so long to park. Another case of "she said, he ignores."

And take today. He purchased a computer. The keyboard doesn't work and the thing has glitches. After nine, I kid you not, nine hours of fiddling with the @#@$!!! thing, he's just now coming to the conclusion that he might need to take it back. I told him that an hour after the thing didn't work. It was the display model at Sam's. Hey, you get what you pay for. But I must admit to laughing a lot while watching him try to get online help using a virtual keyboard. In other words, he had to painstakingly tap each letter using his mouse instead of typing away. Have you ever tried a live chat using your mouse to click letters to make words? Ack.

All in all, it's been an amusing and enlightening experience. Woman nags, man ignores. Woman is right, man is wrong, but refuses to see reason because woman is so irritating. (Hey, I admit it. I'm annoying, but moreso because I'm usually right. *grin*)

That Men are from Mars Women are from Venus debate comes to mind. Those many instances where I multi-task and he concentrates feverishly on one project at a time. When he can't find the syrup bottle that's just behind the box of noodles, or the milk right in front of his face in the fridge. Leaving dirty socks on the floor, two feet from the hamper. Giving advice instead of just listening to my hard day with the kids. Or his need to "watch" baseball to relax. He's clearly sleeping while the game is on, but should I dare turn it off, he suddenly wakes as if he's been watching it all along and demands the channel be left alone.

But to be fair, I'm certainly no saint. I'm bossy, stubborn, and think nothing of wanting to change the furniture around or buy a new desk to replace the one we got four years ago, mostly because my taste has changed. If it were up to him, he'd still use cardboard boxes as end tables. I like to talk, and I love to read. (The house is often a mess, but I make deadlines.) And I have a need to be told I'm appreciated. Often. Yes, I'm a woman.

I find it amusing that so many of my husband's traits translate to men all over the world. The friends I talk to, the movies I watch and the books I read show that he's everywhere. He's in every hero and villain, every alpha and beta out there. So what is it exactly that makes the genders so different? Levels of testosterone? Brain chemistry? Body parts?

Sigh. I wish I knew. Now if I could just get him to return that stupid computer, I'd get a little peace.

Marie

Toronto Pride: Can't Stop, Won't Stop

Can't Stop, Won't Stop.




That was the slogan for this year's Toronto Pride. The last week in June always marks Gay Pride Week in Toronto and in many other cities around the world. Looking to do some research, I headed down to the big city for three days, to be part of the goings-on. Toronto Pride never disappoints. The city was warm and welcoming, people were laughing and happy, and Gay Pride shone. I had a front row spot for the Sunday parade which lasted nearly two hours. It was amazing. After the parade, everyone headed to Church Street to check out the vendors and the sights. The street was hopping almost twenty four hours a day over the weekend.

I thought people might enjoy seeing some of the many, many photos I took over the few days I was there.

The rain didn't seem to dampen anyone's enthusiasm. Umbrellas were brandished and people made their way to their place in the parade.





































































Here are my two favourites from the parade. I love the Bear Forest and the Virgin Mobile slogan was hilarious.































I'm going to post a variety of photos of the weird and absolutely wonderful people who make Pride Toronto such an amazing event. Can you spot Kaenar, that's me, in one of them?
















































































































































Hope you enjoyed your visit to Toronto.
Kaenar Langford
www.kaenar.com
Tales to seduce and entice...

Please check out All Tied Up, my latest book from Total-e-Bound.

As a government agent, Naymeen Renaud's mission is to belay Aiden Blackshott's role in treasonous activities. So how does she end up in the wealthy businessman's playroom, tethered for his pleasure?

Captain Naymeen Renaud's current assignment for the United League of Veluvian Planets is to thwart any contact between forces hostile to the League, and wealthy industrialist Aiden C. Blackshott. But she soon finds herself straddling a line between duty and lust. She loves it when Aiden captures and pleasures her in his sex playroom. But she suspects her new lover has ties to her former partner, now a rogue agent, she has sworn to bring in.

Aiden also has a mission, one which threatens to fall apart when Naymeen appears the very evening he will play his final role in his assignment. When he allows her to kidnap him to keep her from upsetting carefully laid plans, she whisks him to her star cruiser and ties him to her bed so she can return the favour. She wants to believe in him, but in the end, is he betraying her just as her comrade did?

Been missing writing

I haven't had much time to write these last couple of weeks because a tornado ripped through our neighborhood in Georgia recently and a large tree limb went right through the roof, making a big hole! We'd been in our house in Florida and arrived to find the yard looking as if a battle had been fought in it and a large tree on the roof entwined in the power lines. Yikes!

It's a durn good thing we got there when we did because that very night and all the next day, torrential rain poured down non-stop, and the entire house would have been flooded. As it was, my loving and very brave man went up onto the roof in the middle of the night during the rainstorm and secured the large tarp we borrowed from a neighbor, over the hole so that the water would stop pouring in behind the refrigerator.

All that and we were on our way to Virginia to scatter his mother's ashes in the Chesapeake bay as per her last wishes. Wow! There is no time to write when all this is going on.

The trip to Virginia went well. It was beautiful actually, and the group of us who went were all very moved to have fulfilled Florence's last wishes. (My story, Yin Yang, in the Fabulous Brits anthology is dediacted to her memory because she passed away a few weeks before I wrote the story.)

The roof was repaired while we were away and Mitch did the repairs to the inside of the house which were miraculously minor. He is a good craftsman and you can't even tell anything happened now.

Now that everyting is repaired and at rest, I'm praying that the week to come is nice and quiet - the kind of quiet we writers need in order to bring forth our stories. I love writing so much and the creative flow, the time I spend with my characters is gratifying and sweet. I'm hoping that I'll have time to work on the final installment of the White Tigers series, a sequel to Men of Phuket: Tongue-Thai'd which continues Ryu and Nat's story. Well, that is, unless people also want a story about the delicious, michevous twins who appear in the other stories!

In any case, thanks for letting me share. Hugs, Sedonia

Summer Season

I remember a few years ago that usually during the summer there was nothing to watch on TV. Now there is an influx of shows to see. Some days there is so much to watch I have no idea which to pick first. My fav summer shows are Closer, Monk, Psych, Law and Order – Criminal Intent and So You Think You Can Dance.

With the many new shows premiering in these last few weeks I am finding even more to watch. HawthoRNe has captured my attention. It is great and interesting. Royal Pains is another great show. Dark Blue I am looking forward to this show.

I didn’t watch Leverage last season but I watched the reruns and now I am hooked. Burn Notice is another show that I didn’t look at last year but with watching the reruns I am hooked.

So besides spending time exploring and with fam I am also watching lots of great TV shows and movies. It is a relaxing fun time this summer. So how is your summer going.


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

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

Gratitude

Okay, I admit it. Sometimes I'm a kvetch. For those of you who are not familiar with Yiddish, a kvetch is an inveterate complainer. My poor husband bears the brunt of most of my complaints, which range from the physical to the metaphysical.

“I never have any time to write,” I moan. “Lots of other authors I know put out a book per month. It takes me a month to finish a short story. I'll never be a success in the romance world. I'm just not prolific enough.”

“I can't stand doing all this promotion,” I sigh. “It doesn't seem to matter how many excerpts I post, how many blog entries I write, how many contests I run, how many friends I have on MySpace. My royalties just aren't what I'd like them to be. And then I'm so busy with promotion, I never have any time to write.”

“I don't know why I bother. I don't have the energy anymore. My head aches. My joints hurt. I'm a wobbling mass of cellulite. I look at myself in the mirror and see an old hag. My wrinkles are starting to rival the Grand Canyon. No wonder I have so much trouble writing erotic fiction. I feel about as sexy as a dead flounder.”

“A dead flounder?” my husband asks, finally stepping in to interrupt my downward spiral. “I imagine that there might be flounder fetishists who'd find that exceptionally arousing.” I laugh in spite of my determination to hold on to my sour mood. “Anyway, I think you're sexy. Why don't you take a break from all that writing and promotion and join me in the bedroom? I'll show you what I mean.”

At that point, my husband is usually behind me, rubbing his crotch against my butt and groping my breasts. I really can't in good conscience continue to complain!

The fact of the matter is, despite my laments, I'm incredibly fortunate. Okay, so I normally have at most one day a week to write. I find that I need a block of devoted time. I've never been one of those authors who can fit writing into the cracks in her daily schedule, so I try to keep one full day clear of other commitments. When I finally do sit down, I can produce 3-5K per day – maybe not up to some professionals' standards, but not too bad either. And my first drafts are normally pretty clean, based on feedback from my editors. At this point, I'm also confident that I can find a publisher for almost anything I write.

Now there's an area where I really can be grateful. Many of my colleagues struggled for years to get their first acceptance. The history of my first novel is rather like a fairy tale in comparison. I sent it off to my target publisher, almost on a lark, and two weeks later was offered a contract. In fact, I didn't even submit the whole novel, just the first three chapters and a synopsis. After Raw Silk was accepted, then I had to actually finish it, but somehow that wasn't a problem. I can hardly complain about long hard years pounding the pavement, hundreds of queries or dozens of rejections.

Okay, it's true that promotion is not much fun. (I'd be interested in knowing whether my more successful colleagues actually enjoy the grind of shameless self-aggrandizement.) But I've got advantages in this domain, too. I have enough technical knowledge to maintain my own website, which saves me huge amounts of aggravation and expense. I've been in the business long enough (more than a decade) to know a number of other authors with whom I can partner or exchange promotional opportunities. I have a good excuse (grin!) to opt out of most chats – I live in Southeast Asia and my time zones never match up. (I do spend lots of time interacting with my readers via email.) But I've always been an organized person. As time goes by, I discover or invent new ways to promote more efficiently.

As for the physical stuff, well, we all have heard that growing old is not for sissies. At least I can reminisce about the sexy adventures I had when I was younger, more flexible and more energetic – not to mention using them as grist for the creative mill. I still have my black satin corset, my faux-leather mini-skirt and the form-fitting burgundy velvet halter dress I wore for my first reading. I haven't donned any of them for a while, but I'll bet they still fit, albeit with an extra bulge here and there.

I've been blessed with a top-quality education, work that is creative and satisfying, opportunities to travel around the world. Despite my complaints about aging, I am and always have been mostly healthy. I love and am loved by my parents and siblings. (Being far from them is the only downside of living overseas). I feel valued and cherished by my remarkable husband of more than twenty-seven years. Loving him keeps me sane and whole.

Every now and then I stand back and look at my life, amazed. I never expected that it would be so interesting, or so much fun. I was a little mouse of a girl when I was growing up, living in books and dreaming about romance and faraway places. I am astonished, humble and grateful to realize that my life has surpassed my wildest dreams.

And that's just so far.

10 Things I learnt at RNA09.

This past Saturday I attended the Romance Novelists Association conference in Penrith as a Day visitor and I had a thoroughly enjoyable day. I got up at 4am (that wasn’t so enjoyable) and didn’t get home ‘til late but I can safely say the experience was worth the exercise in sleep deprivation!

And here is a list of just 10 of the things I learnt during my time at RNA09.

1, Romance writers come in all shapes and sizes.

This one seems quite obvious but I was instantly struck by how different all these authors looked. They were from all walks of life, had many different accents and dressed in different ways, there wasn’t even that much pink to be seen! And friendly? Wow, these people were lovely. I was a stranger when I arrived I didn’t know a soul but I was instantly welcomed and made to feel at home. Oh and there weren’t just women attending either, there were male writers there too. Okay, they were definitely out numbered but they were there and I thought that was lovely to see.

2, We all suffer rejection.

In fact, this was the subject of the first session I went to and was hosted by the pretty and talented Victoria Connelly. That woman has seen a lot of rejection in her time but she gave us some great strategies to cope with it like trust yourself and the quality of your work, try everyone and have a dream. It was extremely comforting to know that everyone gets rejected now and then.

3, Characters do matter.

You can sometimes get the feeling that plot is the be all and end all of a good story but the session led by Mills & Boon editors Jenny Hutton and Meg Lewis suggested otherwise. They said that if your character is well established the reader will follow them wherever they go. It is characters that make people read books to the end. It is the plot that makes that journey interesting and shows how the characters react in different situations and showcases their personality and emotions.

4, Literary blogs can be fun.

Moira Briggs taught me this from behind a hastily erected cardboard box lectern and with a dry wit that had me howling with laughter. Moira is a book fox at Vulpes Libris and her tale of how she got involved with the site and how different subjects evoke different reaction was fun, entertaining and eye opening.

5, You can’t recognise a New York Times Best Selling author by looks alone.

At lunch I sat with a table full of interesting ladies. Two of which had lovely American accents. I chatted away happily, exchanging storylines and discussing the trials and joys of being an author and never once looked at names on name tags.

It wasn’t until I sat down in the room for Jodi Thomas’s Session on romancing the American Market that I realised who I’d been chatting to over lunch. Jodi is a lovely lady and a delight to talk too. I’m just embarrassed I didn’t realise who she was earlier, Sorry Jodi!

6, Sometimes the best bits aren’t the sessions.

The sessions were good and the speakers engaging but I found some of my most enjoyable time was spent between sessions just talking to people. I found fellow Total-E-Bound author Saskia Walker between sessions and had a lovely chat with her about authorly things. It was a delight to be able to talk shop to someone who really knew just what I meant.

7, I want an eBook reader.

I know this isn’t a particularly earth-shattering discovery but as Claire passed her eBook readers around during the Total-E-Bound E-publishing session I fell in love. I’ll have to flutter my eyelashes at hubby and see if I can get one for Christmas.

8, How to pronounce Claire’s last name.

Siemaszkiewicz. I’ve never even known where to start with trying to pronounce this particular second name but now I’ve heard it spoken so I know how it’s pronounced. I still don’t think I’d actually be able to pronounce it but the knowledge is there hidden away in a corner of my brain somewhere!

9, Authors like to talk.

A lot. Oh yes and what was the favourite subject? Writing of course. The highs and lows, the deadlines, the tribulations and the joys. There was always a hum of conversation that was comforting and friendly. I bet there are many sore throats now that the conference has finished.

10, Total-E-Bound Rocks.

Alright, this is a cheat, I knew this already but by meeting Saskia and Claire I have had this belief reinforced and if I wasn’t already published with them Claire’s talk on the benefits of publishing with Total-E-Bound would have had me submitting in an instant! I am incredibly proud to be a part of such a professional, caring company.

And thus ends my lessons for today. If you’d like to read more please look at the RNA09 report at victoriablisse.co.uk which goes into more detail about exactly what I did on that sunny Saturday in Penrith.

Jacob's Pony is available now!

Jacob’s Pony

By Jude Mason

ISBN: 978 1 907010 38 4

Publisher: Total E-Bound

Cover Art: Lyn Taylor

Genre: Gay/ BDSM/ Futuristic/ Fetish

Buy Now

Blurb:

In a world where man power takes the place of machine power, pony boys are the norm. Can a wealthy land owner fall for his steed?

Society has finally decided that putting criminals in prison and forcing society to pay for their upkeep just isn't working. So a three-strikes-and-you're-out law is created. On the third strike, the convict is sentenced to lifelong slavery. He or she loses all rights and is sold to the highest bidder. The only rule for the buyer is he, or she, can't end the life of the slave.

Jacob Scott is a landowner and slaveholder. He's single, dashing, gay and very much into treating his slaves well. He's just bought a shipment of slaves and one of them, David, catches his eye. The attraction grows, and as the slave is put through his paces, their lust turns to a more tender affection. When David declares his innocence, Jacob wonders if he might be telling the truth.

How can a wealthy landowner trust a convicted felon? Can a slave truly find a way into his master’s heart?

Excerpt:

Jacob Scott stood looking through the tall, multi-paned window of his study, watching the many slaves bent forward, labouring in the fields. Hobbled in groups of six, the muscular men were forced to work as teams, eat only when their mates ate, sleep together, do everything together. Over time, the work slaves bonded, became more like brothers than the slaves they’d been sentenced as.

Criminals no longer filled the prisons. In the collapse of 2045, prison had been deemed an ineffectual way to deal with those who broke society’s laws. The resources no longer existed to pamper them, and their labour could be used much more productively. Slowly the prisons emptied as guards cleaned the men up and sent them to newly built auction houses where they were sold to the highest bidder. Farming, mining, and mundane jobs were no longer done by machine, but by slave power. The young and good-looking found themselves in a different kind of bondage. Trained as male whores, they became the lunchtime playthings and subservient toys of anyone who could pay the pittance their owners charged. Unable to refuse a client’s desires, the slaves became accustomed to being used and abused dozens of times a day.

Jacob thought about those early days, when the first few slaves appeared. A great many people had still thought of them as convicts and wanted revenge. Prices were high and the typical family couldn’t afford the luxury of slave ownership. The poor sods were abused terribly until the citizenry realised that slavery was punishment enough in most cases.

When more slaves became available, prices went down and the average household could afford at least one. It became commonplace to see naked, or nearly naked, men going about the business of their Masters or Mistresses.

It was easy to spot a slave. Upon being sold, they were branded and collared. The collar could be changed, but the brand was permanent and always visible. It was incredibly rare for a slave to be given his freedom.

A large, white delivery dray pulled into the drive and stopped outside the front door. The eight draft slaves who’d drawn the vehicle staggered and gasped for breath, their bodies slick with sweat from the hard climb to his home. Jacob’s attention shifted from the men in the field to the back of that cart. He waited patiently for the driver to get out and open the back. Jacob knew what the cargo would be. He’d done the purchasing himself and was eager to see the four new slaves climb out.

The first clambered out and stumbled, nearly falling to the grass. The only thing that kept him erect was the chain joining his collar to that of his neighbour. Each man’s hands were secured to their collar and each collar had a short length of chain joining him to another. All of them were nude and all of them were young, well-muscled male animals. In truth, that was exactly what each of them was. Their humanity had been stripped from them when the judge had declared them to be slaves.

“Master, you asked to be informed when the shipment arrived.”

Jacob turned towards the soft masculine voice. “Thank you, Imp. Get my shoes and have them at the door for me.”

The slave, Imp, bowed and rushed from the room. He’d been one of Jacob’s first acquisitions and still served him well, although he was long past his prime. At least thirty-five, his body was no longer as firm or as smooth as it had been, but his cock still rose on command and he could keep from coming for as long as Jacob wanted. Years of training had definitely paid off with Imp.

Jacob watched the play of the slave’s muscular arse and thighs as he hurried down the long, carpeted hall. Imp wasn’t quite naked, but the tiny strip of cloth hanging from a string around his waist did little to conceal his genitals. Another perk of owning slaves, Jacob thought and smiled thinking of how many new slaves balked at the indecency of their attire.

When Imp vanished around the corner at the end of the hall, Jacob returned his attention to the window and the slaves disembarking.

All four were dark-haired and deeply tanned. They could have been related, and that was what he’d aimed for when he’d searched the auction house. The slaves stood side by side, and he noticed that even their cocks were about the same size and shape. Shaved as they were, he could see their balls also appeared similar, hanging low against their thighs.

When he was sure they were lined up properly and ready for his inspection, he headed into the hallway. At the end, he turned left and trotted down the curved staircase. The lower floor was luxurious, beautifully decorated in pale mauve and gold, the drapes matching the brocade on the large couches and chaise lounges he’d chosen. Tile mixed with wood covered the floors, and mats covered them from the worst of the traffic. Large urns and flower arrangements were tucked away in corners or against the wall, strategically placed to better show off the beauty of the place. A small army of slaves kept it clean and the flowers fresh.

He strode to the large front door where Imp waited. The slave stood close to the wall, hands behind his head, his back arched, chest and groin thrust forward. The display was the typical ‘at rest’ pose most slaves were taught to use while waiting.

Jacob sat on the bench and lifted one foot. Imp dropped to his knees and quickly slid the soft leather boot on him. The second followed. A moment later, Jacob rose and stroked the kneeling man’s head. “Good boy. You’re still my Imp.”

“Thank you, Master. I hope to be your Imp for many more years.”

Jacob turned and waited while Imp opened the large wooden door before striding towards the waiting slave dray. The four new ones stood in the shade, lined up beside the side of the dray. They’d assumed the same pose as Imp had taken, and also spread their feet wide, completing the display position.

All of their bodies had been shaved and the brand was fresh on their left buttock. Jacob stopped in front of them and waited for the elderly, grey-haired delivery man to offer him the paperwork to sign. He checked it, making sure all four of the beasts were listed then scrawled his name. Handing the tablet back, he said, “Thanks. Do you need the collars back?”

“Nah, the boss said whenever you’re in town to drop them off,” the man replied cordially. He flipped Jacob a key that would no doubt open all of the collars, which he slid into his pocket.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed your sneak peek. Jacob’s Pony is available for purchase from Total E-Bound Buy Now

A Bit of Flash Fiction

He couldn't believe it; she was his.

So close to her moist lips, her small hand in his, her lower back against his palm, and her summery skirt about his khaki covered knees—if he'd had to choose, he'd have passed her by just to spare himself the torture. But the instructor had said, "Kate will dance with Robert," and that was that; Kate's dewy dark eyes sought his, and his heart stopped.

He couldn't remember how they closed the space between them.

The scent of vanilla rose like warmth from her skin, and he seemed hyper aware of every goose bump and tiny hair along her cheek and jaw, like pale down on a smooth surface. The pink curves of her ear fascinated him, her wisps of hair a distraction. Unable to fight his racing pulse or the rising heat of his body, he swallowed to moisten a throat gone dry, willed himself to breathe.

Then she rested her cheek and chest against him and stole his breath.

Her hair smelled like strawberries—his last coherent thought before he felt her heart pounding against his, her soft mouth slide along his sensitive neck.

Oh, God.

He forgot to dance.

Attraction...And Not The Kind You're Thinking!

So I was pondering what to blog about. I had plenty of ideas but none seemed to fit my mood, as it were.

I finally settled on something my friend Gwen and I have been talking a lot about recently. Our attitudes, and how like attracts like. For example, if you are negative and expect negative things, you will, of course, attract negative things.

Have you ever had to do something—a meeting for work, a family gathering, whatever—that you just dreaded? You’re convinced that it is going to be horrible. You’ll be bored, people will annoy you, the time will just drag on and on and on. *raises hand* It’s happened a time or two for me. ;-) And surprise, surprise, my expectations are met. I was bored, people did annoy me, and the time passed so slowing, I thought the clocks were broken.

Well, one day Gwen and I were talking, and she mentioned a book she was reading about attitudes and like attracting like. It sounded intriguing, and as she read the kept sharing more and more as she read (and it’s an ongoing conversation—she’s not done with the book yet!)

The basic gist of it is, attitude is everything. If you expect bad things, that’s what you’ll get. However, the opposite is true. Expect good things, be positive, and watch what happens. So we started a little experiment between us. No more negativity. And believe you me, we call each other on it.

An example—the other night we were on IM and I was dreading going to bed because I hadn’t been sleeping well lately. I wasn’t looking forward to another night of tossing and turning, poor sleep, and having to drag my tired butt out of bed early with the kids. Which of course doesn’t make a happy mama. Gwen totally called me out, said no negativity. I stopped myself, and thought I’m going to sleep well tonight. My body needs to rest. I’m going to lie down, and wake up refreshed and ready to face the day.

When I lay down later, I kept repeating that in my head, focusing on a good night’s sleep and not letting negative thoughts invade. And guess what? I did sleep well that night. I woke up to the alarm and felt rested. It wasn’t a chore to get up.

I’ve written more and been more productive since “banning” negativity. If I only write 1,000 words that day, even when I’d hoped for more, I don’t beat myself up about it. I think, hey, any day that I got some words in is a good day. I’ve been more patient with my kids. It’s amazing what one change can do in your life.

Now, I’m not pretending that my life is all sunshine and rainbows since trying this positivity thing. I still lose my temper, I still have bad moments and get down on myself. However, I’ve found that I don’t dwell on these things as long. I don’t beat myself up for being a bad mom, wife, daughter, . I tell myself it was a bad moment and I need to move on. Some times this isn’t the easiest thing to do, but it seems to work.

What about you? Do you believe in like attracting like? In the power of the mind? That expecting good things will attract good things to you? Something to think about.

Jess

P.S. The name of the book Gwen is reading, in case you’re wondering is The Law of Attraction by Esther and Jerry Hicks. I need to order my own copy, that’s for sure.


Jessica Jarman
www.jessicajarman.com
“Real Women, Irresistible Men, Endless Possibilites.”

Cybernet Expo and Marketing for the New Romance Author

To properly market yourself in any business, you have to do different things. I did. For those who have been following me, you all know I recently attended the Cybernet Expo, put on by the folks who run the YNOT network. If you've clicked on thel inks by now you know that I'm talking about attending an Adult Webmaster Convention put out by people who run porno websites.

Don't be alarmed if you're intrigued but don't want to be hit by a ton of spam. The two sites are work safe (mostly) and won't cause problems for your machine.

You're probably wondering why I'm mentioning this if I'm claiming to be an erotic romance author, and asking what the fuck this has to do with writing.

Well, the reasoning is simple. I work for Radio Dentata hosting the UnNamed Romance Show, andwe've expanded our focus to include erotica authors and more unconventional guests. The reason is obvious: Bringing in a variety of listeners who like both my erotica and erotic romance.

I covered the Cybernet Expo with the intention of going into the various educatoin panels and classes offered in order to do the one thing most authors don't do. Set myself apart from the herd.

In the pornography world, there are a TON of websites devoted to redhead cougars (my favorite) but what sets one website apart from the other (and brings in the cash) is how they advertise and the things they DO outside the box. I just heard a great quote that says "it's not enough to think outside the box, you have to ACT outside the box too"

Let's break down advertising (dirty version) of a porno site:

Get content
Write copy
Blast it all over the place (either viral or organic SEO)

Well, doesn't that look like what we as authors do?

We write books
Get them published
Blast our work all over the place (usually virally but some authors have organic SEO in place)

What I needed to get from Cybernet Expo aside from great interviews was new contacts and more ways to reach the broader audience I write for. And amazingly enough when I said "I write erotic romance" a few people handed me business cards.

Utilizing what I leanred at Cybernet, I'm becoming more immutable in my quest for reaching the broadest audience possible. It's a sort of shotgun approach because I don't have time to worry about laser focus.

The lesson learned here should be simple: If you want to stand out amongst your peers, do different, bolder things.

Oh, it didn't hurt that I was practically drunk the entire week, got very little sleep and ate very little (i lost 3 pounds LOL!) because the YNOT people know how to party...

What I Learned at a Photo Shoot

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My friend, Kendra, called me up one day and suggested I do a photo shoot with a friend of hers, photographer Michael Draga. First off, I was stunned into silence and then I began to giggle. You’ve got to be kidding. Why on earth would I do a photo shoot? Okay, I’m an erotic romance writer, and this is pretty cool, but I’m also a middle-aged mother, complete with wrinkles, bulges, bumps, dimples (and not the cute ones), scars, etc. etc. For the record, I’m not fishing for compliments here. I’m good with how I look now. I’ve worked hard at all the imperfections – worried over children and parents for the wrinkles, enjoyed wine and whiskey for the bulges, sat on my as to watch T.V. for the bumps and dimples, and had numerous surgeries or accidents for the scars. Considering all I’ve been through, I think I look just fine.

Be that as it may, I’m still a woman and as such have insecurities. And, those who know me well, also know that while I put on a good front, I’m also a bit shy and self conscious at times. Once I realized she wasn’t kidding about the photo shoot, but had actually set up a date and time, I panicked. What do I wear? What do I not wear? Will the photographer shake his head and wonder why the hell I’m there? Will I be laughed out of the studio? Is this a scam?

Finally, the fateful day arrived. As with everything I do, I over-packed. I was also nervous and jittery as all get-out. Kendra had accompanied me for several reasons, safety, security and because I may well have chickened out if she hadn’t. She helped me dress and pose for Michael Draga.

Guess what happened! Not only did he not laugh at me, he complimented me, took amazing photos of me and made me feel like a celebrity. One thing he taught me: it’s the imperfections – a slightly crooked nose or teeth, eyes that are not the same size, freckles, wrinkles – that make each person distinct and beautiful. I need to thank him for that. His artistry and kindness helped me to relax and see my own beauty and sensuality. After seeing the photos, I think I can see what he saw: a mature, intelligent, sensual woman. Also, after inspecting a picture of my legs, I finally realized what people have been telling me – the scar from the knee surgery that I was conscious of is actually barely noticeable.

So what’s my point here? Simple. Women, myself included, don’t celebrate their own beauty and sexuality nearly enough. We, as a group, tend to focus our energy on eliminating our perceived flaws. What we truly should do, though, is embrace those flaws while appreciating our unique gifts.

Obviously, all photos are by Michael Draga.

Remembrance Shared

Okay, so it's the 7th, and I'm late, and I happened to pull the date of Michael Jackson's memorial service. I can't help but celebrate Michael Jackson's music and think of how he affected so many people. I can't help but wonder if and how any of us touch others and thank each of you who have touched my life.

As for me touching anyone, I know I won't get (and don't want - lol) hours of a memorical service. But I do hope one message is clear when all is said and done when it's my time to go: No regrets. Only love.

Thanks to all of you who spend hours sitting at your computers penning words of love, offering insights and perspective for readers (me included) on life, laughter, love. Words that make me think, reflect, speculate, and wonder.

Peace, everybody. Keep working but don't forget your own lives as you strive to touch that of mine and others. Enjoy life. Enjoy one another. Leave your tracks in the sands of time and let your love shine.

~ Sunny Lyn

One Step At A Time

I posted a few days ago that I was going to climb a 13-er...a mountain over 13,000 feet tall, in preparation for this weekend's 14er.

The mountain had about 2,800 feet of elevation gain. When you consider a flight of stairs has an elevation gain of about ten feet, you get some sort of perspective.

The hike itself was, round trip, eight miles.

And the strangest thing happened...we had awful weather for the climb.

You name it, horrific wind, freezing (literally) temperatures, rain, icy rocks, fog, even hail. For the majority of the hike, the mountain ahead of us was shrouded with fog. Near the top, I was blown backwards off one rock.

On many trails, the way is marked by piles of rocks, called cairns. We were literally unable to see past the cairns. We weren't sure if we were on the trail or not for most of the final assent.

What I learned from this experience...once you have set the goal, focus on your next step. Make sure you're stepping in a sure-footed way, but take your next step.

If I had been able to see the summit, I'm not sure I would have attempted it that day. The conditions were more than adverse. But I didn't keep looking. I kept moving toward the goal. (Keep in mind, I'm not advocating doing things that are stupid or life-risking. I am advocating taking smart, considered risks, but moving forward toward your goals.) Sometimes, by focusing on small steps, rather than the end result, we can achieve even greater things.

Here's to you reaching your summits!

Menage-Playing the Game

Well, Desiree and I were surfing the 'Net the other night and it's amazing wehat you can find ut there. I was helping Des with research on her newest novella, looking for more info on menage a trois, and can you believe this? There is a game called Menage!!! Of course, Des immediately grabbed it for her WIP, Intermission, but I thought I'd tell you a ltitle bit about it today. It seems there is a game for everything.

Explore Your Passion with "Menage - The Game""Menage - The Game" is a one of a kind board game designed as an Icebreaker for adult house parties and gatherings. "Menage" can be enjoyed by any adult group interested in promoting a relaxed, erotic party atmosphere and spicing up an otherwise "vanilla" or tame gathering.
"Menage" allows the participants to decide at the beginning of the game just how exciting and physically interactive the game will be allowed to get and what activities are acceptable to the entire group. Playing "Menage" will lead the entire group into a variety of adult activities including drinking, stripping and various erotic situations. The “Mild to Wild” flexibility means that it can satisfy the needs of a variety of adult occasions and party environments.
Like most games, "Menage" has instructions. If you want to actually read them, GREAT. However, if you are like most of us, you just want to pop open the box and start playing.If that is the case, here is the 'quick and dirty' on how to get started:1) Everyone choose a game piece (pawn) and a numbered chip which you will keep throughout the game.2) When it's your turn you roll the two dice (one regular and one 12 sided). The regular die is how many spaces you move, the 12 sided die is who you 'interact' with (the "selected player").3) Move you game piece and do what the space says to do with the selected player. 4) If you land on "Roll the Dice" then you roll the "Party Dice" and do what they say with the selected player.By the end of the game, everyone will probably be naked, relaxed, and having a great time. If not, then change the rules!!!!
Shown below are some of the fun activities that you can expect to perform when playing "Menage".
1. You and your partner kis the selected couple.
2. All players remove one article of clothing
3. Uncover your breasts, i.e., remove all articles of clothing that cover your breasts (or chest for men)
4. Kiss the players of the opposite sex on each side of you (or those closest to you) then go to #6 and perform the action
5. Perform ANY action your partner describes for 30 seconds with the selected player
6. Roll the "Party Dice". You and your partner perform the action on the selected couple for 30 seconds
7. Remove all of your clothing except your panties/briefs and kiss each player of the opposite sex for 15 second each, starting and ending with your partner
8. Tell everyone in the group one of your favorite EROTIC fantasies (30 seconds max)

To find out the rest of them I guess you'll either have to buy the game or let your immagination run wild!!!

HAVE FUN - PLAY SAFE


Want to buy the game? Check out this link:
http://passiongrotto.com/Menage.html

Amd come visit me at http://www.desireeholt.com/ or www.myspace.com./judithdesiree

Celebrate Your Independence!

On this side of the pond, we celebrate the Fourth of July, otherwise known as Independence Day.

It's a day rich in tradition, with barbecues, picnics, watermelon, homemade ice cream, family, friends, and firework displays.

But we can make this day into our own special celebration of independence. And you get to define independence anyway you want to.

I'm celebrating my independence from lethargy by climbing a 13-er (a mountain that's over 13,000 feet tall. Mount Audubon, in the Indian Peaks Wilderness area.) And next week, I'll continue the celebration by climbing a 14-er, Mount Bierstadt.

One of my friends is celebrating her indepenence from that extra five pounds she's been lugging around.

Another is celebrating her independence from too much debt.

Another is celebrating her freedom from the 9-5 grind. She's now working for herself. It's a struggle, but she says she's never been happier.

Many of us Western women celebrate our independence, literally. I was on a writing retreat with a dozen talented female writers. One night, we all climbed into the outdoor hot tub, beneath a canopy of stars. From our vantage in the Colorado mountains, we could see the Milky Way. And our conversation drifted to the fact that in parts of the world we would not have the freedom to gather sans men. In certain places, we would not be able to spend a couple of days away from home, frolicking in our bathing suits, getting massages, and talking the night away.

So...what do you want to be independent from? How do you want to live your life? What does freedom mean to you? (Even if you're in Europe or half the world away in Australia, or celebrating Canada Day, how can you make this holiday yours?)

Cheering for you...

Love, Sierra

“I want to put my mouth on you.”

Odd, how they’d known each other for, what seemed, mere minutes. We’re virtually strangers. No, we’re not. No, they weren’t.

The conversation of the eyes had drowned out voices. Small talk. Insinuation. The eyes spoke of a chemical reaction. Need. Newness. But the lips pursed to words. “I want to taste you,” she sighed. Hours were not theirs to waste.

Both hearts tightened and expanded as she lightly touched his swollen groin. “Please,” she whispered, carefully tugging the zipper.

He watched, slightly nervous. A vein beneath the right eye twitched, the eye brightened, following the slow motion of her hand. “Are you wearing them?” I like white stockings. He had thrown the comment into conversation casually, early on.

She crossed her legs, sitting against him lazily, shoulder under his arm. “Yes. I would do anything to please you.” Time was of importance.

Where he looked was beyond her now. Within the turmoil of her passion she forgot what she wore, except that it added to his fantasy, and this, her newest intimacy, rehearsed inside the imagination, was now existent. Smokey sensuality, she had thought, and now that her mouth was filled with him, her senses declared that her imagination was, although vivid, not nearly as pleasant as the realness of it all.

And when he broke inside her mouth he clutched the laced edge of the stocking. Deep melancholy took his breath, twisting it into verbalized ecstasy. Or pain. Or both.

Intense sadness gripped him; le petit mort; extreme desire impassioned her; she swallowed. His tears were wistful; hers were of intolerable yearning.

“Will you want to see me again? Will you want more?”

“Yes.”
Ah, if white was so pure in simplicity, then what of the black?

http://www.ellenashe.net/