Have a fun whatever you're up to.
Actually, I’m talking about whether or not to enter competitions, which can be wonderful or frustrating (depending on your point of view) and certainly unpredictable. Mostly, I don’t bother with them because I never win anything and they always seem too good to be true. Besides, I am automatically suspicious when something seems a little too easy – you can’t get something for nothing.
The National Lottery is a real gamble with a massive number of hopefuls handing over their money every week in anticipation of receiving a jackpot. In the UK, the Lotto makes so much money that they can afford to give some to charitable (!) causes.
I was also attracted by the theme, which is paranormal. I don’t often write paranormal stories, but when I do, they are usually of the beastly variety—á la Twisted Angel. What better than to write about the erotic passion that can stem from evil? I entered with a story called By The Fireside, which is a deliciously devilish MF tale.
Find out more about the competition and By The Fireside here.
It’s easy to forget where we’ve been. It’s easy to be frustrated about where we’re going.
A few years ago I was at a writing retreat with a bunch of talented authors.
After a day of workshops and critique sessions, we headed for the outdoor hot tub. Under the clear Colorado night sky, we were talking about our dreams and hopes, brainstorming ideas, laughing, joking, telling outrageous tales. And it occurred to me how lucky we were.
There are places in the world where we wouldn’t be allowed to do that.
For many women, the freedom to leave behind husbands and children, work or responsibilities to pursue our own dreams simply doesn’t exit.
I savored the time, and I’ve never forgotten the experience.
I’d love for all women, everywhere to experience that kind of freedom.
I’m not naïve. What we enjoy doesn’t come without a cost. Many women would rather be home with their kids, but reality makes that impossible. Yeah, a lot of us have to bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan. Freedom often comes with a price.
It would be easy to complain about that.
It would be easy to forget that thirty years ago Sandra Day O’Connor became the first woman appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court.
Instead, I choose to celebrate how far we’ve come, the trails blazed by remarkable women such as Susan B. Anthony who, in addition to supporting women’s suffrage, had the wild idea that women should be allowed to own property and their own money. (Keep in mind this was little over one hundred years ago.)
So, in honor of Sandra Day O’Connor, I celebrate YOU, the gifts you bring to the world, the trails you will blaze, and the generations of women who will have a better, smoother path because of the difference your actions make.
Yeah...you go, girl!
Over the last few weeks, the postman has been quite busy, coming to my home with all sorts of packages (ahem) for my pleasure. Two of the latest packages include my author copies of A Week in the Snow and The Green Room, both now in print. I'm so excited!
I started writing erotica back in the mid-90s. My first published works were in anthologies. This was when ebooks were just a glimmer of promise on the horizon, and the Internet was still a toddler. Seeing my published work meant going to the mailbox every day and hoping to see a package there from a publisher, ripping it open right there in my driveway, and squealing with enough delight to make my neighbors wonder what the hell did that postman bring her this time?
These days, that thrill of being published often comes first in ebook form, and it's just as sweet. But there is a nostalgic pleasure in going out to the mailbox and ripping open that package to hold the print copies in my hands.
To celebrate, here's a little short story, one about anticipation and the thrill of knowing what might be coming very soon. Enjoy!
A Hard Day’s Work
By Gwen Masters
The sound of machinery was completely out of place in the tastefully decorated offices of Parker and Parker, Attorneys at Law. The men just outside the window wore hard hats and dirty jeans. They worked with one small machine after another, each one making more noise than the last.
Sally should have been working. She should have been writing reports and taking notes, but she was too busy watching that man. The one who worked hardest, whose muscles stood out in strong relief against the fabric of his shirt. The one who had lifted one of those machines from the back of the truck all by himself.
Tiny rivers of sweat ran down his temple. He was covered in concrete dust and five o’clock shadow. His shirt was soaked with sweat. She wondered if he would smell good when she peeled that shirt away. Would she find the honest smell of hard-working man?
The thought made her cross her legs for a little relief. When he lit up a cigarette during a quick break, Sandy sighed along with every exhale.
He was there every day. On Friday the crew left early. She watched him walk around the side of the building and let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
She was startled to see him in the elevator thirty minutes later. His hard hat was gone and so was most of the concrete dust. His eyes were a piercing blue. He smelled just like she thought he would. The scent of virile man hit her right between her thighs.
“You’ve been watching me,” he drawled. “From your window.”
Sally’s voice was level despite the blushing. “Going down?”
“Very soon,” he said.
Sally took a deep breath. She smiled as she pressed the button for the garage.
Blurb: Zori revels in the control she exerts over the opposite sex; no man has ever challenged her in the bedroom or out...until she meets Greyson.
Today is a day to celebrate! I don't know about you, buy my calendar clearly states today is the First Day of Autumn.
I'm here commandeering Kaenar Langford's blog spot today after my novel release was moved forward at the last minute - thanks, Kaenar!
It seems as though, in a lot of crime fiction, BDSM has a pretty bad rep. A hard-boiled detective chases down a suspect and finds that, lo and behold, he’s guilty of murder – and has vast swathes of kinky porn on his computer. Naturally, it must have been the kinky porn that enticed him into thinking about murder, right? Along with playing violent videogames and watching violent movies – oh, and that awful rock music.
As a violent videogame/movie enthusiast, who loves a little rock music during her BDSM scenes: trust me. I’m not planning to snap and murder anyone. In fact, I’m more likely to take out any inner rage on the videogame bad guys than find someone real to shoot.
So, to bring this around to Dominance and Deception, my debut novel… When I wrote about my crime-fighting Dom, Detective Zach Pierce, I wanted to emphasise that you can be a good guy and still be kinky. Pierce puts criminals behind bars, then goes home with his forensic scientist, Faye Tate, and does many, many evil things to her… and she loves it!
So let’s cast aside our preconceptions that kinky people must harbour a terrible rage that will one day burst forth and leave a trail of bodies behind them. The kink community is actually one of the most rational, polite and friendly subcultures I’ve ever known – well, outside of certain scenes-in-progress, of course. ;) There are some times you really don’t want your Dom to be polite!
Allow me to introduce Zach and Faye in a little more detail:
“Try to get free.”
Obediently, Faye writhed on the bed, tugging at the handcuffs that restrained her wrists and the silk scarves I’d used to tie her ankles to the bedposts.
“Can’t, Sir,” she said, half smiling, half apprehensive, as if she was unsure whether the response would lead to reward or punishment. Hell, with Faye, the punishment usually was the reward.
I didn’t keep her in suspense. “Good.”
When I brought the riding crop up into her line of sight, her eyes widened and she bit her lip, a shiver of anticipation thrilling through her body. I paused for a second, giving her time to back out if she needed to, making no attempt to hide the way my eyes swept over every part of her.
“Are you ready?”
She swallowed hard, her eyes on the crop. Shaking a tendril of damp hair from her cheek before answering, she nodded, her words just barely whispered.
The way she submitted, unquestioning, to my authority made me want to throw aside the crop right then. I needed to be inside her, needed to hear her beg for release, needed to lose control completely. But not yet. The scene had yet to be played out.
Faye looked from the crop to my face, and from the slight upward quirk of her eyebrow I could tell she’d caught on to my train of thought.
“Or we could just…” she said softly, shifting seductively against the mattress.
Snapped back into my role, I stared her out until she stilled and broke eye contact.
A flicker of amusement remained in her voice as she conceded, “I’m sorry, Sir. I was outta line.”
“You’re damn right,” I said, and without warning cracked the crop down onto her breast, just below the nipple.
She yelled with combined pleasure and pain, attempting to suppress the grin on her face.
I paused to let the blow register, knowing she was hardly even trying to be properly submissive. Most of the time, she let it wash over her, sinking so far into the state that it took time for her to come back from it. Tonight she was in a playful mood of a completely different kind—cheerfully insolent and willing to take all the punishment I could meter out. I already knew she’d let me whip her until she was sore all over, then defy me for just a little longer, setting her tolerance for pain against my willingness to give it.
I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.
Faye looked down at the red mark rising on her flesh, then up at me. “That the best you can do, Sir?”
I raised the crop, never letting my pissed-off façade slip. “I haven’t even started—”
Faye’s phone rang, the unexpected sound disorientating us both. She groaned, scowling at the offending object as if it was sentient.
“Damn it! Not now!” She tugged expectantly at her handcuffs. “Okay, let me out of these.”
I stood there, impassive, and she rolled her eyes.
“Zach, seriously. Someone’s probably dead and we’ll have to go to work.”
Want more? Dominance and Deception is available now for just £3.49.
To me as a teenager with little experience and only the most basic information from sex education at school, these novellas were also quite informative in terms of what went where and how. The problem was, that they used a lot of euphemism like "He touched her intimately, his fingers pushing into her wet heat." or "She moaned, as he guided himself into her most intimate flesh." There was also a lot of talk about "petals", "stems" and "roots" – as if humans were, in fact, plants.
Now, I don't know about you, but I personally prefer to call things by their actual names. But the problem is – what to call them? Some terms are just too clinical (penis, vulva, vagina), some too militant (battering ram), some too esoteric (lingam, yoni, holy grail, wand), some too zoological (snake, beaver) some too funny (pecker, joystick, jerkin gherkin, sugar hole, salami garage – this list is actually endless). I also can't deal with any references to food in that area (especially any kind of seafood instantly kills the romantic mood) – but that might just be me.
So, what to call his shaft/cock/dick? And her pussy/cunt/hole?
Of course, there is also the problem of context and narrative perspective – especially with historicals. The gently bred nineteenth-century heroine wouldn't know what to call her own cooch, even if it defeated anatomy and bit her on the arse. But even if you're reading or writing contemporary erotic romance: what terms would be too crass? What would be too euphemistic? What feels natural?
I'd love to hear your opinion on this in the comments! You're also welcome to drop by my blog A DARK KIND OF DESIRE to discuss more weird questions like this and I'll be back here next month.
The laughter when I got my brother-in-law with a whopper of a zinger. He has a sharp wit and is great with zingers. My sister, brother-in-law, nephew and I dancing around the living room while watching So You Think You Can Dance. We dance grooving to the tune and dances. Laughing as we chatted about other moments we had in the past. Like when my brother-in-law screamed on the roller coaster and the picture of that scream. My cousin who loves to argue good naturedly with me.
There are so many times I spend with my family. I appreciate all of them. All these moments were priceless family moments. This past summer I made some more moments to add to my memories.
…increasing the sizzle factor
Chat Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/crenshawcafe
Free Reads Site: http://www.satinnotes.com/
By Lisabet Sarai
Ménage stories are all the rage in erotic romance these days. I can certainly understand why. If the fantasy of one attentive and devoted lover excites you, why not add a second man to the mix? Of course, the second guy should cherish the heroine at least as much as the first. This is romance we're talking about here; the threesome needs to be about more than just sensual satisfaction.
In most of the ménage romance I've read, the two men in question are connected somehow before they meet the heroine. They're often best friends, sometimes even brothers. They're both attracted to the heroine, and they agree to share her. She's often the last to know.
My polyamorous tales tend to be different. It's usually the woman who initiates the three-way connection. Taking two lovers allows her to follow her heart without having to relinquish either of the men to whom she's drawn. Of course the men need to be comfortable together and to trust each other in order for the connection to work. Their mutual love of the heroine provides the necessary bond to establish that trust. The fact that, in many of my tales, the men are attracted to one another as well provides additional impetus for the triangle.
In Monsoon Fever, Priscilla invites both her husband Jonathan and the charismatic Indian lawyer Anil to share her bed. (She doesn't know, at the time, that Anil has charmed Jon as well.) Madeleine, the heroine of my vampire ménage Fire in the Blood falls under the spell of the undead ex-slave Etienne, but still loves her boyfriend Troy.
Truce of Trust offers a different scenario. At the start of the story, Leah is already living with two men, her husband Daniel and her master Eric. She spends alternating nights with each, but their mutual antagonism and jealousy finally drives her away from both of them. The two decide to make peace and to truly share her. Their love for her overcomes their suspicions and insecurities. It is Leah who must make the final decision, however, on whether to accept them back into her bed.
Earlier this week, Total-E-Bound released the anthology Treble, a collection of tales about threesomes and music. The book includes my story Wild About That Thing, focused on the blues. Once again, my heroine Ruby is the one who concludes that a threesome is the right path for her relationships.
Two things are important to Ruby Jones: her teenage son and her struggling club, the Crossroads Blues Bar. Her love life comes as a distant third, despite the efforts of Zeke Chambers to convince her otherwise. Zeke's the lead singer in her house band, a devoted friend, and an occasional lover. He can drive her wild with desire, but can't get her to make a commitment. Deserted by her cheating ex-husband, Ruby's determined she's going to make it on her own. She's hot-blooded like her bluesman daddy, happy to satisfy her physical cravings, but she's not about to let any man into her heart.
The stranger who takes the stage on the Crossroads open mike night upsets the delicate balance in Ruby's world. Remy Saint-Michel inspires irrational, irresistible lust as well as inexplicable sympathy. Overwhelmed, confused, guilty and worried about her prized independence, Ruby decides that the only way to deal with her two lovers is to push them both away. Zeke and Remy, though, have other ideas.
To whet your appetite, I've included an X-rated excerpt below.
And - in case you're interested - you can win a free copy of Treble. Just leave a comment below! I'll pick a winner on Monday the 19th!
Ruby sank down onto the bed, suddenly unsure. Without a word, Zeke began to undress. She swallowed hard, her pantyhose growing more sodden by the instant as he revealed his blond-furred torso and muscled thighs. He stepped out of his briefs, setting his erect cock free. It reared up from the red-gold tangle at his groin, swaying a bit, like a tree branch in the wind. Sporting a wicked grin, he stroked it once or twice to coax a bead of moisture from the fat bulb. Ruby clutched the bedspread, her heart slamming against her ribs. Was this really happening?
No sooner was Zeke naked than Remy began to disrobe. He kicked off his boots, then dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it into a corner, to be followed by his jeans. Gone was the composure that had first drawn her attention… Was it really less than a week ago? Urgency and impatience vibrated in his every gesture. His swollen penis arced towards the ceiling in a graceful curve, bobbing with his pulse. He struggled for control, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. His skin gleamed like polished oak, smoothed over the sculpted curves of his hairless chest and lean flanks. Revealed to Ruby for the first time, his naked body was every bit as compelling as his face. She fought the urge to literally throw herself at his feet.
Her suit jacket felt hot and constraining. She shrugged it off her shoulders. The silk of her blouse revealed her taut nipples, straining through the lace of her brassiere. Her musk escaped the confines of her panties and hose. She was dying for them to touch her, but neither man moved. She was the one in charge.
“Please,” she managed to choke out, holding out her arms. “Don’t make me wait any longer!”
In an instant, they were both by the bed. Remy crouched down to remove her shoes. He kneaded her insteps and arches. She tingled all over. He worked his way up her legs—massaging her calves, working his thumbs into the pressure points above her knees, stroking the insides of her thighs with a light touch that shot straight to her pussy. As he worked, he pushed her skirt up into a crumpled mess in her lap. She didn’t care. She leant back to give him access to the elastic circling her waist. In one swoop, he relieved her of her underwear and stockings.
Meanwhile, Zeke knelt behind her on the bed, his thighs flanking her hips, his chest against her back, and his erection flattened against her spine. He reached around to unfasten her buttons, his blunt fingers brushing against the heated skin below her bra. The transient contact made her yearn for more. He removed her blouse, taking care not to damage the delicate garment, then addressed himself to the hooks of her bra. By the time she released the breath she was holding, he had bared her breasts. Her plentiful flesh spilled out of his palms. Zeke thumbed the swollen tips and lightning streaked down to her clit.
“God, you’ve got gorgeous tits, darlin’! Juicy and firm as Georgia peaches!” Zeke gave the aching nubs a pinch, making her squirm. At the same time, Remy’s slender fingers parted her labia and warm breath stirred her moist folds.
“Oh…” She hardly had time to moan before Remy’s mouth fastened on her pussy. “Oh—oh, my God…” He burrowed into her, sucking her flesh into his mouth while swiping the flat of his tongue across her clit. Sensitised by days of self-imposed celibacy, her hungry cunt spasmed with pleasure under his expert attention. She tilted her pelvis and parted her thighs, trying for more contact. Remy probed her crevice, making her crave deeper penetration, before returning his attention to her clit.
Her whole being concentrated on the tongue dancing in her pussy. A climax curled in her belly. Remy’s mouth coaxed it closer to the surface.
All at once there was heat and wetness from a new source. Zeke’s ripe lips surrounded one nipple. He swirled his tongue around the engorged bead of flesh, then applied delicious suction. His moustache brushed her bare skin, soft and sensual. Just when she thought she’d burst from the pleasure, he transferred his mouth to the other breast, leaving the first soaked with saliva, chilled and tingling. He used his teeth but Ruby felt no pain, only a brilliant stab of delight.
Remy reacted as her body tensed. He drove his face into her sex, plunging his tongue into her hole, mashing her clit against his nose. The duelling sensations, above and below, drove her into a frenzy. Her lovers worked together to brink her to the peak. That realisation—that the two men were collaborating in her pleasure—was what finally pushed her over the edge.
Treble is available now! In addition to my contribution, it includes stories by Elizabeth Coldwell, Desiree Holt, Lily Harlem, Imari Jade and Wendi Zwaduk – all wonderful writers!
Don't forget to leave a comment and win your own copy!
Hello everyone, it's the 16th of the month and it's time for a bit of Blisse at the Hotspot!
Fiona was bored with her life but she didn’t realise that simply deciding to visit the local Italian restaurant for dinner one night would change it forever. When she laid eyes on the fit, young Italian waiter she fell instantly in lust. Carlo returned that ardour but how could their relationship develop when he had to move back to his home in Italy?
The year had been tough for Fiona though on paper it looked pretty good. She’d got her promotion and a raise, had moved to a terraced house from a flat. In reality she’d suffered from a very serious broken heart when her fiancé had told her it was all over and he had found his real soulmate. He had left her and flown halfway round the world to be with some tart he’d met online. Fiona’d had to put the flat on the market just six weeks later. He had come home to tell her he was going to marry his new bit of fluff and move to Australia to be with her. He had wanted his half of the money he’d put into their shared home in England.
And here's the hot excerpt for you to enjoy!
The flat had sold quickly. Fiona had used her new managerial position to purchase a house and a hefty mortgage to go with it. She had her new start but felt lonelier than ever rattling round her two up, two down. She worked hard to bury her emotions and most days she was asleep before she could begin to think about all the sadness she had inside. But when everything caught up with her she felt fat, unloved and alone.
She had taken forever to find someone who had accepted her as she was. Steve had been her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first everything. He had seen past her dress size to the funny, sexy, bubbly woman underneath. Fiona was an upbeat girl. She didn’t let her size hold her back. She told people she was happy and that diets were for losers. But behind all the bravado she was just a lonely big girl with a need to feel loved and accepted just as she was.
She’d like to travel, see some of the world. Her mind flicked back to Carlo and his soft lips on hers. She wondered what visiting Italy might be like. He was going to go home at the end of term, Roberto had told her so. Maybe Carlo would take her with him, sweep her off her feet and rescue her from her mundane existence.
At first she thought the voice calling her name was merely her imagination but on the second call she realised it was real. She stopped just before she reached her car and looked over her shoulder.
Carlo was running down the street with a small cardboard box in his hand. “Cara mia, you forgot your cake.” He panted slightly as he pushed the box into her hand.
“Oh, I did, didn’t I? I’m sorry. You didn’t need to chase after me, though.” She turned to unlock her car.
“No, I had to. Roberto ordered it so, but also I wanted to speak to you.”
“Oh yes?” She dropped the cake box into her car with her handbag without caring where they landed. What did you want to tell me?”
“I wanted you to know that the words I spoken earlier were really real, not just Italian hot air. I think you are so very beautiful and I would like to know more of you.”
“Oh.” She was lost for words. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to tell him to kiss her, to ravage her right there, but her mouth just wouldn’t work.
“Fiona?” He put his hand on her arm, “Are you all right? I can go if you’re not, how do you say? If you do not want me.”
“No, Carlo, no.” She took a shuddering breath. “It’s not that. I do want you, I do, I’m surprised to hear you say it.”
“I must be losing my touch,” he said as he stepped closer to her. “I was trying my best to seduce you.”
“I, well…yes. Mmm.” Fiona struggled to think, but he stood so close to her that she swore she could hear his heartbeat.
Then she realised it was her own. Before she could formulate a sentence he reached around and rested his hand on her back. She tipped back her head to look up into his face.
His lips lowered to hers.
The kiss was not as she had imagined, but was twice as hot and a million times more intense. He tasted of strong coffee and mellow sweet cheesecake, a perfect combination.
She wanted more. She wondered what he tasted on her lips but it seemed that whatever her flavour he enjoyed it, for the kiss deepened. His tongue slipped between her lips to seek more of her unique essence.
He drew his hand up her back and cupped the back of her head. She was aware of his fingers burning against her skin as well as his plump lips sparking mini-explosions in hers. Her body was alive and tingling with arousal. She no longer thought, she just did. Her arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him tighter to her. She enjoyed the hardness of his muscles under the thin shirt he wore. She was frustrated by the barrier of clothing between them and wanted to strip it away to feel his naked flesh against her own.
She ignored the fact that she stood in a car park open to public sight even though she could feel the caress of the wind against her warm cheeks. All she was interested in was him. She dragged his shirt out of his trousers, slid her fingers inside his waistband and stroked his flesh. His heat burned her but she didn’t want to let him go. Wrapped up in the passion and the ecstasy of the moment, she wanted to feel even more of him.
You can pick Tasty Italian up from Monday but if you want to be certain to get your copy as soon as it's released feel free to pre-order it now!