
- Workshop on using sensual imagery to make scenes come alive
- Club RT most afternoons - look for me at the TEB table!
- EBook Expo on Friday afternoons
A handsome hunk, sceptical of ghosts, and the bad boy ex-con who’s stolen his heart, have a rousing good time at Whiskers’ Seaside Inn.
Dylan Wyatt doesn’t believe in ghosts. That’s what he keeps telling himself, night after night, when noises and unusual happenings at Whiskers’ Seaside Inn wake him. He’s there for two weeks running the place while his brother Cade and groom Ethan are away on their honeymoon. His first assignment is to oversee the removal of the wedding tent, tables and chairs. Dylan decides he’s more interested in watching one of the workmen, handsome, hunky Scott.
Besides having a tiger tattoo running from his neck to his wrist, Scott’s got a waist-length braid and has done prison time. He’s not Dylan’s usual type, but that might be part of the attraction. Dylan hires the handyman to do some work at Whiskers’, and winds up getting a lot more than he bargained for.
Like it or not, Dylan’s forced to figure out what’s going on if things at Whiskers’ are ever going to return to normal. If there is a Whiskers’ normal?
Coming soon from Total E Bound!
Nearly everyone in my life knows I write, and knows I work toward the goal to be a published author. This is no secret. But these same people have absolutely no idea I reached my goal and am working hard to do so again. No one knows I have an “alter ego,” and while at times it’s a fun secret to have, at other times it makes for a lonely world.
This past January TEB released my first novel, The Deciding Factor. This was an exciting event for me, a momentous day, to say the least, and all of four –count them, FOUR - people in my vast array of family and friends knew.
Am I embarrassed about my story? No. But I do realize that a spicy, racy, graphic, erotic (call it what you will) story involving not two, but three people, is a tough pill for some to swallow. Especially for those who read Inspirational romance where the most you'll see from the hero and heroine is a little kissing, if that.
Trust me, I’ve talked to people who could not even imagine half of what goes into an erotic themed story. For me to openly admit I’m an erotic author would call for immediate ostracism. I could handle my own, if it only involved me, but I also have a husband and a houseful of kids. I’ve seen it happen, unfortunately, where a parent assumes the role of “don’t let your kids play with my kids.” Please! Like my kids have a clue about my stories. I'm a grown woman writing fantasy stories for other grown people. I respect these boundaries. Why can’t anyone else seem to do the same?
It’s irritating and depressing at times. I want to call up all my sisters-in-law and share the news. I want to be able to shoot out links and post to everyone I know that I’ve achieved published status! Cheers for me! Instead, I yippee to myself and share little hugs from my close-knit group who do know (thank God for them) and return to my keyboard in the dead of night to tippity-tap away.
Still, despite having to keep my personal achievements a mum, I love what I write, and I will continue to work toward having more erotic stories published. What’s the fun in life, anyway, without a little fantasy?
Have a Happy Tuesday!
Ayla Ruse
~Ensnare yourself in love~
I love to travel even if it’s vicariously through someone else. My friend Bev was away last month on business. That’s hardly odd in itself. It’s where she was that’s interesting. Work had taken her to Iqaluit, the capital of Nunavut, the largest and newest federal territory of Canada. Nunavut was officially separated from the Northwest Territories on April 1, 1999, resulting in the first major change to Canada's map since Newfoundland became a Canadian province in 1949.
Nunavut makes up a major portion of Northern Canada, and most of the Canadian Arctic Archipelago, making it the fifth-largest country subdivision in the world. Nunavut is both the least populous and the largest in geography of the provinces and territories of Canada and home to the northernmost permanently inhabited place in the world, Alert.
The flag of Nunavut bears an inukshuk. Many people will recognize the inukshuk as the symbol of the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics. In a land without trees, stones are used to construct an inukshuk which is used by the Inuit for communication and survival. The traditional meaning of the inukshuk is "Someone was here" or "You are on the right path." It could be a navigation or directional aid, a marker to show a place of respect or memorial for a beloved person or to indicate migration routes or places where fish can be found.
I’m so grateful to Bev for allowing me to use her photos for this March article. All photos except the licence plate and the inukshuk are courtesy of Bev Bernbaum.
Here’s a view of the Arctic landscape from the plane.
The centre of town seen from the plane during landing.
The Iqaluit airport.
Here is Bev’s home away from home, the Nunattaq Bed and Breakfast, also known as 4141. The main form of public transportation in town is by taxi and the cab drivers don't know streets, they know the building numbers.
Signs in the community are in English and Inuktituk.
Bev said the bank is the same one she uses in Toronto.
I love the name of the restaurant, Fantasy Palace. Bev said they serve great soups.
Downtown Iqaluit. There's a Tim Horton's at the end of the block. Does this mean that there is no Canadian community without the ubiquitous Canadian doughnut shop?
This is the view from one of the windows at the back of the house.
Here’s the moon setting at 8:30 in the morning from the kitchen window.
Bev took this photo while walking along the bay to get to the museum.
The hospital, called Qikitani General Hospital, was formerly known as Baffin Regional Hospital.
The temperature shows a balmy -25°C or -13°F. I say balmy because one day the temperature dropped to -52°C or -72.4°F.
The next set of photos is the main reason I wanted to post about Bev’s trip to Iqaluit. Two women took her dog sledding and the photos are amazing.
Here are some of the dogs that will be harnessed to the sled. Bev said the dogs got so excited when they knew they were going for a run.
Here the harnesses for the ten dogs are all laid out in a very neat and orderly way but when the dogs were being hooked up, they got all jumbled together.
Heading out, across the river into Sylvia Grinnell Territorial Park. Bev was sitting right at the front of the sled.
Stopped at the side of a hill out of the wind to have hot chocolate and snacks and give the dogs a break.
Beautiful dogs lit with the golden sunlight. Lovely photo.
Heading back, Bev stood on the back of the sled. She said, “The dogs would run up an incline and stop to look back at us as if to say... "You're kidding, right?" During the return trip she’d step off the back and run with the sled to push and keep warm and then jump back on.
See you next month and stay naughty,
Kaenar
Kaenar Langford
Tales to seduce and entice…
www.kaenar.com
Kaenar
Kaenar Langford
Tales to seduce and entice…
www.kaenar.com
By Lisabet Sarai
I've been publishing for more than a dozen years now. Anyone who reviews my publishing history will notice that I've written in a wide range of sub-genres: contemporary, historical, paranormal, BDSM, fetish, lesbian, gay, menage, vampire, shape shifter, sci fi, etc. One reason that my writing is (by some people's standards at least) all over the map is the fact that I like to challenge myself. When I begin a new story, I deliberately try to write something distinctly different from what I've done before - just to see if I can.
Recently, for instance, I decided to try writing my first steam punk. However, I also wanted to do something different. The resulting story, "Her Own Devices", is set not in England or America, but in an alternate Victorian Hong Kong. It comes out next month in D.L. King's anthology Carnal Machines. To be honest, I'm pretty happy with the result, a tale of industrial espionage and concealed identities, livened up with plenty of sexual intrigue.
Another genre I recently attempted is gothic erotica - you know, tales of crumbling, haunted mansions and degenerate, perverse nobility, storm and shadows on the moors, terror and lust... I don't know yet whether this story has been accepted, but I had a fabulous time writing it.
Sometimes the challenge resides not in the genre but in some aspect of the premise. "Bodies of Light", my contribution to the upcoming anthology Seeing Stars, began with me asking myself: Could I write a love scene involving characters who did not have physical bodies? How would I convey the experience of pleasure without anchoring it to specific body parts?
I'm not sure how successful I was - successful enough for the story to be accepted at least! Let me reassure you, by the way, that "Bodies of Light" offers plenty of normal, sweaty, hard-muscle and smooth-skin physical sex as well. Here's an unedited excerpt, to whet your appetite:
***
“Christine.” The voice rang like crystal and flowed like water, a far cry from the flat, synthetic tones of the Archimedes. “Do not despair, lovely one.”
Christine could not help smiling at the endearment. No one had called her lovely for a very long time. She kept her eyes closed, willing the dream to continue.
“We are with you, Christine.” Deeper, richer, edged with laughter, another voice chimed in. “You are not alone.” A cool, soothing palm cupped her brow. Strong hands settled on her shoulders, drawing her upright, then slipped down to cradle her breasts. Luscious heat suffused her, focused on her suddenly-taut nipples. They were smouldering embers ready to burst into flame. Soft lips brushed her neck just below the hairline, sending shivers spiralling through her. Someone unknotted her hair and let the weight of it cascade freely down her back. She sighed as careful fingers eased out the tangles. Each gentle tug at her scalp was pure pleasure.
The caresses ceased for an instant while her chair swung away from the control panel. Then sensations began again, delicious and irresistible – unseen hands kneading her breasts, a warm mouth nuzzling her earlobe, a teasing tickle tracing its way down her belly, firm pressure parting her thighs and the barest graze of a fingertip across her pubis. A fierce stab of delight ripped away her languid mood. She moaned, arching up toward the retreating finger. Laughter poured over her like dark honey.
“You like that, sweet?” asked the baritone. The finger returned, pressing into her nylon-covered cleft and sliding back and forth along her length.
Christine gasped. “Oh, yes...” Swirls of fluorescent colour danced on her closed eyelids. Familiar scents teased her nostrils, earth after a rain and new-mown grass. The finger moved faster. The soaked fabric of her coveralls slithered across her sensitized flesh. A climax gathered in her depths, heavy and full as summer thunderheads. “More,” she whispered, just as someone dragged the zip of her garment down below her waist. “More!” she yelled, as sharp teeth fastened on her bared nipple and hard digits plunged into her naked cunt.
Dozens of hands fluttered over her skin, strummed in her pussy, plucked at her swollen breasts. The ripe clouds burst. A torrent of pleasure flooded her senses. Her body dissolved. There was nothing left but pure ecstasy, vibrating through her being like celestial music.
“Open your eyes.” The higher voice, the one that shimmered like liquid starlight, spoke close to her ear. The suggestion filtered through her post-orgasmic haze. This dream is certainly tenacious, she thought, her limbs still tingling. Usually I wake up after I come.
“We’re here with you now,” added the earthy voice, from the other side. “Look upon us.”
Why should she resist? It was just a dream. Her eyelids felt leaden but she forced them apart.
A stranger stood to her right, a youth with marble-pale skin and hair like spun silver. Smoke-coloured brows shaded his piercing violet eyes. A pert nose and full lips gave him an androgynous look, but his lithe body was undeniably male – especially the column of rigid flesh that jutted from his hairless groin.
Arousal flickered through Christine’s body, faint echoes of her recent climax. “Who are you?,” she queried, her mouth watering at the sight of his sturdy erection. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m Alyn,” the young man answered with a smile that stole Christine’s breath. His skin gleamed in the dim light of the bridge as though dusted with stars. Fat pink nipples winked at her from his smoothly muscled chest. She ached to touch them. As though he read her thoughts, he reached for her hand and drew it to his breast. “I’m here for you, Christine. To cherish and to comfort you.”
His skin was silk under her palm. She moulded the shape of his pectoral and flicked at the taut nub at its centre. His cock surged in response. She could see a drop of clear moisture gathering at the tip. She wet her lips, suddenly hungry. “Alyn,” she repeated, rolling the name on her tongue.
“And I’m Zed,” came the deeper voice, from her left. She turned to gaze at the second man, taller and stockier than Alyn but equally beautiful. Zed had jet hair and ebony eyes. With his prominent cheekbones, broad mouth and bronzed complexion, he made Christine think of some ancient tribal warrior. A provocative grin lit his face. He seized her other hand and curled her fingers around his swollen cock. “This is for you, little one.”
***
So what's next? I'm working on a full-length M/M science fiction novel. I've done M/M before, but not sci fi, other than short stories. And believe me, I am finding it a challenge to build a consistent and believable future world.
But that's part of the fun.
He paid her to paint his portrait but he really wanted to steal her heart.
Hermione is an independent, single mother who has caught the eye of Philip Haughtington, society high-flyer and well known heart breaker.
He wants to seduce her and she is determined to resist but how long will she be able to hold out against his looks, charm and firm, commanding hand?
“Here we are.” Philip said as suddenly the mess of twigs gave way and an obvious clearing came to light.
“Wow.” Hermione took in the vast array of different greens and was awed by the majesty of nature. Across one side was a small pond, grey and green mingled reflected in the water and at the other end a host of bright bluebells shone out between the blades of vibrant grass.
“You didn’t lie, did you?” She smiled at him and he grinned back.
“This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.” He sighed and stared into the vast yet stark blue sky.
“It’s very well hidden away isn’t it?”
“When I found it quite by accident as a kid I just knew I should keep it quiet and as I grew up I kept the secret because if Mum and Dad knew they’d want to tame it into the formal garden and I don’t think that’s right. This place is wild and should be kept as such.”
She completely agreed with him, such a beautiful place deserved to be preserved and as she looked him in the eye she noticed a flash of acknowledgement within them. He must have read her approval in her face.
“Yes, this place would be ruined if someone tried to run a path through it or tried to prune back the bushes.” Maybe Philip wasn’t quite the stuck-up snob she’d thought he was. And maybe she shouldn’t be so hard on him.
“So I was thinking I could sit over here.” He strode over to a large fallen tree, its roots dangling uselessly in the air like a wooden waterfall.
“Fantastic.” The artist in Hermione took over as she directed him to sit on top of the large trunk. “Just sit on an angle a bit, no, no to the left a bit. That’s it, a bit further back.”
She tutted and walked forward towards him. She grabbed his long frame by his muscular shoulder and pushed him back, angling him to her requirements.
She’d forgotten how much her v-necked top exposed her cleavage if she wasn’t careful, and she hadn’t been careful. Looking at Philip’s face, she saw that he was blatantly ogling her chest.
She waited, staring at his eyes, hands on her hips.
He looked up. Caught him, she thought triumphantly.
“S…Sorry.” A blush spread across his high cheekbones but there was a sparkle in his green eyes. “I just couldn’t help myself. It looked so very inviting down there.”
Damn him. Hermione flushed and covered her bared chest with one hand before stepping back to set up her stool and to get to work.
“Don’t move an inch.” She shouted over her shoulder as she rooted through her bags and boxes for pencils and paints,when she glanced over her shoulder to check on him his gaze was fixed firmly on her arse. She’d worn the long, thick skirt as protection from this sort of thing, she’d heard rumours of his cad-like ways, but it obviously wasn’t working as even from this distance she could see the tented material in the front of his crotch. She knew she should be angry and affronted but something inside her actually felt flattered.
“You have a gorgeous arse,” he said after her attention was once again focused on her paints and brushes, “plump and juicy.”
“I beg your pardon?” Hermione snapped, “I’m not here to fulfill some seedy sexual fantasy of yours, so behave, right?” She might have been somewhat aroused by his appreciative gaze but she did not want him to know that. She had to keep this professional.Painting his portrait could be key to furthering her career. She did not want to spoil that.
“Yes, erm, Sorry,” he replied, squirming against the bark of the log, “I was just thinking aloud. I’ll shut up now.”
Mia dubbed her life-sized clay sculpture, Adam, because he is the first man she’s ever made. Most of her work has been female torsos, but recently her muse insisted it was time for her to produce a man. Though, she might have been confusing her surging libido with her artistic muse.
Mia has been abstinent for nearly a year, but not because of any plan. Her best friend, Shirle, has organized a party for Mia to put an end to her long dry spell and give her vibrator a night off. Before she even gets out of Shirle’s car, Mia meets Zed.
Zed has come to the party to win a challenge. The waiters at the restaurant where he is the head chef and owner don’t think a black French chef can country line dance. Once he meets Mia, his purpose for the night changes. He plans to spend the evening with this incredibly sexy woman whose sense of humour is developed enough to subject herself to the intense teasing from her friends about her lacking sex life. But he must decide whether he still wants Mia when he discovers Adam plays an important role in her life.