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Invitations Book 1: Now or Never

Now or Never, the first in a new series.
Dressed as a harem girl and hiding behind a veil, Emily arrives at a costume party ready to make a former co-worker she fantasized about before leaving for the US Peace Corp pay for not noticing her lush curves. Her goal: blow his mind with her sex slave seduction and leave him aching for more.

Wearing a borrowed costume and mask, Daniel accepts the offer of a woman eager to show him what she can do with the sheer scarves she's untying from her waist. His goal: make sure the woman undressing for him knows how incredible she is and understands that he isn't the one-night-only kind of man.

Available now!


Fictional danger

Anyone reading erotic romances can’t miss the amount of strong, (more than) slightly dangerous and absolutely dominant alpha males occupying the stories. Seeing their popularity, they must hit a very warm spot in many a reader’s heart. Although such heroes rank extremely low on my list of personal favourites, in a way I can understand what’s so appealing about those specific fictional characters.

It’s all just fantasy. Deep in our hearts most of us know that those erotic romance heroes would be a disaster to live with in reality. I mean, anyone else who thinks that a real life Christian Grey would likely end us in a crisis centre for battered women, waiting until there’s a specialised therapist available to undo at least some of the damage? If we’re lucky, that is.

And yet, if there ever is a place to safely explore the dangerous site of erotica and “love” without getting us mangled, it’s in the stories we read. But once we close the book, or turn off the e-reader, we return to the real world, knowing that some things are not meant to be for a very good reason. 

S. Dora

my blog


Where Do Stories Come From?

Charting the creative process is unique. For me, it’s some work, some fun, some inspiration.

At times, my publisher will put out a special call for a particular subject, say, for example, a billionaire story.

And there begins the journey.

How fun would a billionaire be? This man isn’t just rich, he’s super rich. He can afford anything. But surely, that kind of wealth also brings about challenges.  How could a man be sure the woman cares for him, not his wealth? And complicate all that with his need for BDSM. Surely he wouldn’t want the entire world to know about his predilection! So where would he find a woman who loved him and was okay with his lifestyle?

And who is the heroine? She has to strong and secure in herself. And she has to have a taste for submission.

From the fun ideas, the work begins.

I generally do a brainstorming session with a trusted colleague, someone who knows the market, understands the structure of the story, and, most importantly, has ideas different from mine.

Then I sit with a pen and paper. I make a list of things that could happen in the story.

From there, I decide which events create the most compelling story, add to the conflict, test the characters.

I’m not what some refer to as a pantster. I tend to figure out a story in advance. I have found it much easier to keep details straight and to make sure the story doesn’t veer off in an unexpected direction. That’s not to say that cool stuff doesn’t unfold along the way!

To me, it’s like taking a road trip, like I did recently. I know I’m going from Denver to New Mexico, and I know how long it will take. That doesn’t mean I can’t stop at a wildlife viewing area along the way. Or eat at a place that has delicious green chili rather than a fast food restaurant. But it means I always know where I am, where I’m going, and how to get there.

To me, the creative process is an interesting one. No book unfolds in exactly the same way.  But there’s comfort as I begin the journey into the unknown again. (And part of the adventure is definitely choosing names for the characters!)

Whatever your creative journey is, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!  


Oh, the Places You'll Go!

I absolutely love researching for erotic stories and novels. Of course I do, right? What happens between the sheets -- or bent over the couch, or on the kitchen table, or in the shower, or the balcony in the middle of the night when nobody should be able to see -- is the best kind of research I can imagine!

But I do plenty of research on other things. Especially places. I love to set my novels and stories in a place that really speaks to me.

The Green Room is primarily set in Nashville. I lived in the Nashville area for several years, so I am comfortable with writing about the places that country music calls home. But some scenes are in planes, and in the back of limousines, and even on a tour bus, because that's just how my characters roll. And I love to travel, so it made sense.

A Week in the Snow is completely different -- it's set in a tiny town in Iowa, and the characters are snowed in for the majority of it. A good friend of mine lived in Iowa for a time, and he went on and on about the harsh winters. When I went to visit, I loved the little towns. Why not set a book there?

After All These Years is another that takes place in the snow, but this one is in the windy city of Chicago. Why Chicago? My mother was born and raised there, and so it's safe to say the city is in my blood. And besides, I love the idea of being snowed in, cuddled up with my lover in a quiet oasis that happens to be in the middle of a vibrant, bustling city.

Speaking of cities, my writing has taken quite the turn since I moved up to the Philadelphia area. Now I'm writing about sex in a New York City apartment (and maybe even on the fire escape!), getting it on while riding a train through the Philly suburbs and even indulging in a little naughtiness in Washington, D.C. (After all, everybody knows those politicians are Kinky with a capital K!)

All of my writing, erotic or not, is set in a place that means something to me. What places mean the most to you? Do you like to read -- or write -- books that are set there, to a point where you search them out in bookstores or plot your tales based on the seasons of a particular locale?

Now I'm going to head back to my work in progress. It's set in Philadelphia in autumn. No surprise there!

Until next time,


Busy month...few months.

Busy month ahead. Well a few of them. These last few months have been busy with releases and lots of writing.  I’ve been working hard and plan to keep continuing. Love when I have lots to work on. I can’t believe it is October and in few months the year will be over. Now I’m off to get some more work done.

Very busy month. :)

Talia Carmichael
Fill Your Cravings



The voices in my head

Yeah, I know this sounds crazy. Being a writer probably means that you're a little bonkers by default. But that's just how it is, I guess.

Working on several stories at the same time means I am currently sharing the space in my head with quite a number of characters: there's Lawrence (the mastermind behind an insanely popular graphic novel series who now has a stalker on his hands), his new girlfriend Ellie (she's a quiet one, but sassy, and these two have really got chemistry). They share a story with a lovely young gay couple, only recently moved in (these two are so sweet together, I can't stop watching them). There's also a slightly crazed Victorian inventor and his new housekeeper (this is another story - they're trying to solve a mystery but keep getting distracted) and, popping in and out as if by magic, a medieval Scottish witch and her English lover (who've got a little border skirmish on their hands).
Seriously guys, how is a girl supposed to concentrate with all those voices babbling, shouting and whispering in my head at the same time, demanding that I writer their story first?

I'm going back to writing someone's story now. Let's see.... Maybe it's time for a trip to Scotland today...

I've sadly neglected my own blog over the last weeks, but I can more frequently be found on Facebook nowadays. Join me if you like. I'll be back here next month on the 19th.


To Russia - with love

I really couldn't tell you when my fascination with Russia began. It might've been way back in my teen years when I discovered historical romances. I read a story by Constance Fecher, 'Night of the Wolf' about a young girl escaping the turmoil of the Russian Revolution. In any event, I was hooked. I studied Soviet History at the University of Pittsburgh before I returned to England. I signed up to learn Russian at an evening school and, when the teacher passed away, stumbled upon an ad in the Cambridge paper, for someone who would teach Russian in exchange for learning to speak English. Now, I have a cloth ear when it comes to languages, so I can't really do much with what I learnt, but it deepened my fascination for Russia even more.

I harnessed this fascination into writing a book. It never really went anywhere. I wrote several drafts over the years but could never really find the heart to finish it. When I was throwing around ideas for stories for the 'Endersley Papers' series, I revisited that story. I finally found a use for it. It's the second book and it's about halfway finished. I took a break to scribble down something else and do some research. There's a lot of research to be done. This story is set, mainly, in Petrograd during the Bolshevik uprising and then moves on to the Civil War, before finishing in the shadowy halls of Endersley House.

I've been lucky enough, in my dim and distant past, to visit Russia. I've been to St Petersburg. I've stared out of a smudged train window at the vast taiga and I've felt the biting kiss of frozen air on the snowy shores of Lake Baikal. Now, I'm trying to recapture those memories to pour into this second book. I'm trying to remember all those fascinating lectures by my former Soviet History professor so that I can do justice to the upheaval and insanity of those days of change. I'm hoping that the end result will finally put my mad desire to write this Great Russian Love Story to rest. So, stay tuned and watch this space.

До позже

A sneak peek from a rough draft.

“This is better than sitting in the kitchen, isn’t it?” Alexi ate the last of his  piroshky and took a mouthful of kvass.

“It is.” I leant back on my elbows and stared at the river, the water restless and touched with amber. The tall, slender spire of the  Peter and Paul cathedral rose into the sky, glinting in the light of the slowly sinking sun. The noise from the crowds faded to a whisper and it was easy to forget that, beyond the river bank, the city rumbled on and the world with all its troubles and turmoil were held at bay.

Alexi laid back in the grass, arms folded behind his head. “I could just fall asleep here.”

“Until the police move us on.” It was tempting just to lie back and close my eyes, lulled to sleep by the constant whisper of the water.

“You are always so practical. Do you have any romance in your soul?”

“I lost that when I started working at the clinic.”

He turned onto his side and faced me. “I don’t believe that.”

“All right, then. Perhaps there’s a little bit in here somewhere.”

Alexi edged closer, resting on his stomach. “Perhaps I should help you to find it.”

“Are you flirting with me?” The question was asked before I could stop it. I couldn’t blame it on the kvass, there was scarcely enough alcohol in it to inebriate a kitten.

He was silent for a moment, clearly finding something of interest in the grass. “I might be. Does that make you uncomfortable?”

I glanced around, there were a few people about, a little further away and clearly more interested in watching the river and admiring the scenery than two young men talking. “Not in the least.” I took a leap in the dark, reached up and touched his face.

We looked at each other in the sudden silence. It seemed that the world paused around us. We were the only two people in it. Alexi covered my hand with his for a moment and turned his head to place a kiss on my palm. He closed his eyes and let his lips linger there. His touch was perfect, electric and I wanted to be alone with him, anywhere but on that riverbank.


I am a Christian and I write Erotica.

Some people really have a problem getting their mind around this fact. I have to say that generally my friends in the erotica writing community have accepted it without much trouble, I am saddened to say that the Christians in my life haven't always been so accepting.

I accidentally came out to my vicar about a year ago. How? Well read this post to find out the details. It all went surprisingly well until I got the follow up talk some months later that led to an interesting revelation which you can read about here. Lady Gaga's song Born this Way now has a very dear place in my heart.

It all came to a head earlier this summer when the church council denied me a position simply because of what I wrote. You can read more here but unsurprisingly I was very upset. I ended up leaving that church and am currently looking for a place which will accept me for what I am instead of despite it.

It's been a rollercoaster but you know, I am so glad it happened because I have found so many supportive Christians who read or write erotica themselves. Yep, there's a fair few of us out there and the messages of support I've had from these folks have made such a difference to my life.

So, I am starting my own community for people who love God and love Erotica and Erotic Romance too.  I've opened a yahoo group, a facebook group and a pinterest board.  It's early days but I'm hoping to bring together people who like me feel isolated in their church because of something they read/write or in fact anyone who feels they have to pretend to be something they're not when they're in church.

I've had a thread over at the boards for years for Christian Writers and Readers  and time after time I've been blessed by the interactions there.

So I'm hoping in 12 months time to come back and tell you about my vibrant group of readers and writers of erotica who also happen to love God. I really think there's a need for such a community. It's really awful that so many people feel isolated by the church. Jesus told us to love our neighbours as ourselves. That means everyone, not just the folks we approve of.  I hope to encourage more tolerance, to bring together like-minded people and have some fun. Maybe even change a few minds.

If any of you would like to be involved, then please join up at whichever group suits you best. All welcome!


Ghostly Encounters With A Spirit of Love

It's that spooky time of the year, and everyone loves a good scare. Do you like to visit places that are supposed to be haunted, or watch shows about paranormal researchers? Perhaps you thought it would be exciting to try and capture your own evidence of spirit hauntings. One of the easiest things to do if you don't have a lot of money to invest in fancy infrared cameras and such, is to try and record EVP - Electronic Voice Phenomena - more commonly known as "ghost voices".

I've done that with my hubby on a few occasions, and we've had some interesting results. The town where I live is very historical, and there is a small graveyard nearby called the "Pioneer Cemetery". The stones date back to the 1800's, and there is one rather large tomb that is covered in ivy with an old rusty door, and a cross cut out of the cement encasing the structure. One time when we went there with a small recorder, and after asking about one of the people on the tomb, we were able to hear the whispered words "Come to me". Since we were the only people there, and it was clearly a woman's voice speaking underneath mine, we were quite intrigued.

I've had other instances too - once in a very haunted old building where I used to work and many people had independently reported strange happenings. In this case, I left a recorder running on the steps to the attic where most of the people I spoke with had experienced startling things, and when I came back to check on it, it had been shut off after only a few minutes of recording. The batteries were fine, and when I played it back, I heard footsteps on the stairs, some fumbling around the microphone, and then it was shut off. It just so happened I was alone at the time in a locked building, and there was no access to the steps except by breaking in the front and going right past the door to my office. Creepy.

On October 29th, my MMF menage story "A Spirit of Love" will be released here at Total-E-Bound, and it features three paranormal investigators trying to figure out why a very cranky ghost is terrorizing the owners of an old Victorian mansion. One of them, Sophie, is a medium, and she discovers some very kinky secrets about the departed spirit, and that the randy spectre is interested in getting to know her better - a lot better. But her partners, Martin and Emilio, won't let the ghost have his way, for they're very protective of her. I've included a hot little excerpt here, and on a side note, if you can't wait until the 29th, sign up for the VIP program at TEB, and you can download A Spirit of Love right now - plus you'll get it at a discount! Happy haunting...I mean reading.

She reached the top and felt pulled to the right . There was a long hallway with a closed door at the end of it. She knew immediately that this was where she was being led. Her heart beat faster. Fully connected to whatever it was that was there, Sophie had a brief thought that it couldn’t possibly be the spirit they were investigating. For the closer she got to the door, the faster her heart beat—not in fear, but like the anticipation of meeting a long-lost lover. She couldn’t wait to grab the door handle and push her way through, feeling as though her soulmate were on the other side.

She opened the door into complete darkness. All of the shades were tightly drawn. It seemed as though the new owners hadn’t got to this room yet. It had a dank musty smell as if it had been shut away for years. With just a little of the natural daylight from the hallway seeping into the room, Sophie slipped inside and stood still. She listened to the thrum of her heart thumping in her ears and waited to see if the spirit would try to come through her.

“Oh,” she gasped. The entity had completely caught her off guard—absolutely nothing like this had ever happened to her before.

She was getting turned on. The energy coming through her was warm and sexual. Her nipples hardened immediately, and she was mortified to realise that her panties were getting moist from her desire. Her first instinct was to shut herself off and run. But she let it go since there didn’t seem to be any sense of threat or danger.

She allowed the spirit to continue to connect with her. There was a name, but she couldn’t get it. The entity seemed to have one and one thing only on its mind. It had obviously been a long time since whoever this was had got laid. She was able to discern that it was male, and very…kinky. She could feel rough natural ropes around her wrists and ankles, and she felt as if she were splayed wide open and naked.

What am I being tied to?

It was a large canopied bed, one that used to be in the very room she was standing in. She was experiencing intense arousal and a willingness to be restrained by this man. He stood over her prone body, something in his hand. It was a riding crop. He teased her aching flesh with it, circling her nipples, tickling the inside of her sensitive thighs. A loud snap, and a sting  on one nipple.

“Ow!” she cried.

But, inside, she wanted more. She wanted the snap of his whip on all of her most tender areas. He obliged, and a strike hit the tip of her other nipple, the sharp pain immediately switching to intense pleasure. There were more flicks of her nipples with the riding tool, then light slaps on the insides of her legs, moving higher and higher until she received a harsh whack on her clit.

“Oooh!” she yelled as she jerked at the unexpected sensation. This was becoming crazy, yet she kept getting wetter and wetter. It was so out of the ordinary, not only because she had never sexually interacted with a ghost before, but also because she was not into BDSM at all, yet, here she was craving his next harsh ministration.

The walls of her pussy were swelling, readying for an intrusion that she found herself begging for.

“Please…” she whispered.



The Big Finish!

It's funny. I don't write series per se. I don't. I write characters that tend to run amok, yes. Those characters tend to have buddies that want their stories told, as well. So when the story really wasn't planned to have a sequel, ends up having one. Tangled Up was a one-off story. But, it actually featured people from a couple other stories. Fine. Then my wonderful readers, I love you folks, wanted to hear more about Arran and Mindy. So... Someone Like You was written. You've asked me for what happens AFTER Tangled Up, so that's in the works, too.

But this post is about another story and characters. Remember Ryan and Samara from Careless Whisper? Well, they've got their happily ever after, but Felicity wasn't so happy. She got poofed into the great beyond and left in limbo. But, because you all wanted to know what happened to her and because she didn't want to take leaving lying down, she's back! And John, the guy who helped her cause so many problems? He's back, too. But since she's a ghost, she can't really come back to him in the normal way. Miss Me Baby is their story. Like I said above, I hadn't planned this sequel--not the way it ended up. Nope. I had a different vision for it. Then the characters got a hold of the plan. Yeah. Bye bye plan. I'm glad, though. I hope you are, too. Here's a little bit about it:
Say you’ll haunt me, since I’ll never stop loving you.

Felicity Black never quite understood love. She worked her assets to get what she wanted and didn’t care who got in the way. Until she met John. He saw past her superficial self to the woman inside. Death separated her from John before she could tell him how she truly felt. Now she’s got her chance...just not in the way she expected.

John wanted Felicity to haunt him. She had been the only woman to stir not only his heart but his soul as well. But the woman claiming to be his lost love can’t be her... Felicity was dead. He has to decide whether to trust his gut or walk away from a new start.

Can a second chance at a first impression lead to love or a lifetime of heartbreak?

Reader Advisory: This story contains an out-of-body experience, voyeurism, spanking, rough sex, masturbation, and a chance for love to strike twice.

< Br /> Available here!

~ ~

Want to know more about Wendi Zwaduk? Here you go:

I always dreamt of writing the stories in my head. Tall, dark, and handsome heroes are my favorites, as long as he has an independent woman keeping him in line. I earned a BA in education at Kent State University and currently hold a Masters in Education with Nova Southeastern University.

I love NASCAR, romance, books in general, Ohio farmland, dirt racing, and my menagerie of animals. I also write under the pen name of Megan Slayer.

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I Heard Your Voice... and it haunts me

For the first time ever I have a release to match a holiday. Not one of my favourite holidays, I admit. I tend to spend Halloween either out of the house or inside with all the lights off ignoring the trick-or-treaters. However, it’s nice to be able to say I have a Halloween release.

I Heard Your Voice stemmed from an idea I had after watching “Most Haunted” and developed further after I attended a paranormal investigation in Bradford. Sadly I haven’t had any experiences as dramatic as the ones my heroine has, but then that’s what happens when, as Tamar discovers, you have a voice that can raise the dead.

Tamar Steele’s life was never supposed to be like this. A sensitive working with a team of paranormal investigators, she is trapped in a loveless relationship with the team’s medium, Reed James, who believes that having sex on haunted ground enhances paranormal activity. Tamar maintains their partnership for the sake of the crew, forcing herself to ignore the burgeoning sexual tension between her and fellow investigator Jason Bray.

Until one night when, alone and bored, Tamar sings to herself and is knocked to the ground by an invisible force. Somehow she is able to invoke spirits with the power of her voice. And one particular sexy, matchmaking spirit is determined to turn her life upside down.


Camping - wow

So, we’re camping this weekend, my husband and me.  Should have known better since camping rarely works out well for me. The troubles began before we ever left the house – hubby “tagged” someone on his way home. Yep. Hit the brakes and slid right into someone’s rear end. Luckily, the guy he hit was understanding, so they simply exchanged information and each went his own way. Did I mention it was raining? And had been ALL DAY? And that it was cold. Cold for me anyway. So, an hour and a half after we had planned to leave, we’re off. We drive the 2 hours to the campsite and it’s packed. Finally, we locate an empty campsite and back the trailer into the spot. In the rain. Did I mention it was raining? And dark now. And raining? And cold??? Anyway, we get the camper set up. In the rain. Then head out to a winery.  We always camp near wineries.
Now here’s the best part. We’re inside the winery – since it was still raining – and sharing a lovely bottle of wine and a chicken alfredo pizza when I overhear an interesting phrase from the couple across the loft from us. “Manscaping.” I giggle – naturally – and this catches their attention. It turns out that Jeff, a handsome, tall guy with brown curly hair had never heard of manscaping. His wife, a drop-dead, gorgeous blonde, is close to tears from laughing at him (okay, not really HIM, but rather his reaction to the term and my giggling.).  We explain the term to him. He has a few questions – wouldn’t the jewels get in the way of an artful design? What type of guy would want a heart “scaped” into his fuzzy hairs? What happens if the razor slips? He’s truly intrigued by this whole concept and simply wants more information.
We eventually finished up our bottle and headed back to the camper. In the rain. Did I mention it was raining? And dark? And cold? And there were – oh, I don’t know – somewhere in the neighborhood of a million deer on the road???? Despite the odds, we made it back safely (despite having to stop to add a few quarts of transmission fluid to the really old and really unreliable Jeep) and had a lovely night’s sleep.
The next day we hit a few more wineries – oh, it had stopped raining finally! – and lo and behold – we run into Jeff and Jenny again. Turns out, they are celebrating their 19th anniversary – so, a big shout out to them!!!! Jeff now understands all about manscaping and completely understands how keeping the twig and berries free of “debris” can enhance a woman’s pleasure (NO ONE likes picking hair out teeth!) and, therefore, enhances the man’s pleasure! I’ve promised to mention them in a blog, and so I have. I promise, I’ll write a much hotter one later this week. When I finally get home. But that could take a while.
Why you ask? Well, today as we were on our way up to the lodge to enjoy a delightful Sunday brunch, the Jeep sputtered and spurted again. Then died. As in dead. As in died. Now hubby is a fairly gifted backyard mechanic, but he was stumped. So now, we’re stranded in a camper. Luckily, the kindness of strangers is not something available only to psychopathic women named Blanche. After walking over a mile in inappropriate shoes to the lodge, the manager allowed us to eat breakfast after they would normally have closed the breakfast buffet. He gave us a ride back to the dead Jeep, and then back to the campsite and gave us the name and number of a local mechanic. Local mechanic took time out of his Sunday to tow the dead Jeep into town and will look at it tomorrow morning. Our son brought us a vehicle (being able to laugh at his father seemed a fair trade for the long drive down) and then promptly left again, cackling all the way.
So what did you all do this weekend?


Covers to not die for

Lately I am struck by the "50 Shades of Grey" covers. Okay, I do get it. Those new to reading erotica don't want those in the doctor's offices to know what they're reading. But please, have we not gotten to the point in our female liberation when we can declare what we like to read?
Is this not akin to declaring to our partners what we like in bed?
I think so.
I remember so well the Bad Old Days of Concept Covers, meaning Georgia O'Keefe flowers, et al. Budding flowers, for godssakes.
Now we have truth in advertising and suddenly, bam, we're back to grey and plain stuff. Ties and champagne glasses for cover art?
Give me a man. Or a woman. Or both. Or many of each!
What do you think?
To grey-scale or not?
To concept or calling a spade/ drawing a spade as a spade?
(And below is one of my FAVE COVERS from TEB, FOR HER HONOUR. A spade. A blade! YUM!)


Stuff Your Muff And Tickle Your Pickle

The spirit of a good romance novelist is an adventuresome one.

So who's to say that we should endow our heroine only with a "cunt" or a pussy," or our hero with a "cock" and a "shaft"?  In fact, I'd rather like to think that there's a whole plethora of new, unexplored metaphors and descriptors our there that serve to expand our horizons as writers--and more titillatingly--as readers.

What if she had a "love canal" and he had an "acorn andy"?  Too much? Not serious enough? Unsatisfying and pejorative? Good for a parody?

While we're at it, let's try these other terms out for size:

AND, Just for fun, here's a passage from my recent release Hyperpersonal, Hypersexual rewritten with some juicy selections from Reddit.
Juliette’s breasts sprang free, and they moulded against Chris’ glistening, tight skin. His bare flesh against her nipples sent waves of pleasure through her body, made the fire of desire between her legs flare even hotter than before. “Oh, yeah,” Juliette sighed as a blast of cool air washed over her cucumber canal (pussy). The faint tickle of cloth as her thong trailed down her legs aroused her further.

Juliette was completely naked now. She quickly unbuttoned Chris’ pants, pulled the denim waist down to reveal tight black briefs, bulging thighs, beautiful calves, and the outline of a magic member (cock) so swollen it looked as if it would burst through his fly.

Juliette reached down to her clit, massaging softly, and she plunged her other hand deep into Chris’ briefs, grasping his warm, hard pickle (cock). She could feel the silky skin on the head of his rainbow roll (shaft), the veins bulging in his slim jim (cock), the shock of wiry hairs around his dangling fruit (balls) and stomach. It was so warm, so big. Juliette wanted to touch it more, to run her hands across it, before she leant back and let him rub it against her bald man in a boat (clit), from base to tip, then ram it deep inside her.
What do you think?  Could this be the next revolution in writing romance novels--or are the "terms" we currently use...enough?

Lots of love,


Decision Time

Hi all,

It has been a while since I remembered a post and I apologise. So much has happened in my life over the last few months. On October 18th, I'm going to try and give full-time writing a go. This is a huge step in my life but I'm hoping it will give me the opportunity to finish off my Valentines, and Love and Death, series I've started.

This has taken a lot of thought on my part. My family are encouraging me to take the next step. For so long I've dreamt of being able to write full-time and to finally get the chance would be a dream come true. I hope in a years time I'll have good news to report to you.

That's my quick update for today.



What do you mean, is there a Happy Ever After?

Good morning, good afternoon and goodnight.

Has that covered everyone? Well, hello, my name is Sue Brown. I'm a brand shiny new author with TEB, although I've been around for a couple of years with *whispers* other publishers. I have a new novella, Tumbling Blindly, coming out with TEB in early 2013, set around a gym in the London area. I have a first of the month blogspot, here on Hitting the Hot-Spot.

So Happy Ever Afters, HEAs, your Barbara Cartland moment... whatever floats your boat. People want their HEA, and they feel pretty damn cheated if they don't get one. Before you ask, yes, Tumbling Blindly has an HEA. 

Recently I've been watching a lot of gay films. Once every few weeks I park myself on my friend Jason's settee, and we watch four or five films. I'm embarrassed to admit that for someone who writes kitchen-sink books I love my sappy gay films. If you want to keep up with what I've been watching, I update my Pinterest board regularly.

One of my favourite directors is Rob Williams. If you watch gay films then you may know him from Make the Yuletide Gay or Role/Play. I was reading an interview from him where he said he is often criticised for giving his films happy endings.  

Isn't that ironic? Is it because we're catering to a different audience? Well, you could say that Rob is catering to the gay community and m/m romance is catering to women. You could say that. I don't. I think we all cater to a varied audience. If you ask most authors they have a wide variety of readers.

Personally, I believe there is room for all endings in our genres. And we are lucky to have such a fabulous broad spectrum of sub-genres. I love Rob's films for the sheer joy in his story-telling. I love authors for their HEAs. Think of Stolen Summer by S.A. Meade. But there is also room for the Happy For Nows and bittersweet endings. I'd love to know what you think. Do you demand an HEA?

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