Showing posts with label Wild About That Thing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wild About That Thing. Show all posts

Friday, September 27, 2019

What Comes Next? #Suspense #AuthorCraft #AmWriting


story telling
 
We all love stories. It's in our genes. Humans have been spinning tales for thousands of years. From the sagas our ancestors told as they huddled around their campfires to the ebooks flying off today's virtual shelves, stories satisfy some deep psychological need.

Sometimes we want a familiar story, even though we've heard it a million times before. We anticipate and then enjoy the expected conclusion, which reassures us that all is right in the world. Often, though, we follow a story because we want to know what comes next. Suspense and uncertainty produce a particular kind of excitement., a tension that is pleasurably released when the uncertainty is resolved. Suspense is what keeps readers turning pages long after their normal bedtimes. They don't want to stop reading until they see how it all turns out.

In genre fiction such as romance or mystery, readers know the final shape the story will assume. The lovers will overcome the obstacles that confront them in order to be together. The guilty parties will be identified, the mechanisms of the crime will be explained and usually the perpetrators will be brought to justice. Part of the reason readers enjoy these genres is that they provide the same satisfying reassurance as a well-known fairy tale or myth. A book that labels itself as romance or mystery then fails to provide the expected pattern of resolution will likely arouse readers' ire.

This does not mean that stories in these genres should be predictable. As the story progresses, a skillful writer will make the reader question how the expected ending could possibly come about. You'll lose your reader's attention if he or she stops wondering what happens next.

Unfortunately, I find that a significant percentage of the romance I read is far too predictable, at least for my tastes. By the time I've finished the first chapter or two, I know the general path the story will take. I can't presume to speak for other readers, but this definitely diminishes my own enjoyment.

As an author of erotic romance, I struggle to add suspense to my own stories. It's not always a conscious process, but when I sat down to write this post, I tried to analyze the strategies that I use, or have seen others use, to avoid predictability. I identified four techniques that can be helpful in this regard.

1. Withhold critical facts

Even if you're a pantster rather than a plotter, you'll generally know more about your characters and their background than you tell your readers. Often there are things in a character's history that are critical to the plot. By holding back and not disclosing these facts right away, you can heighten the level of uncertainty and make the final resolution more surprising.

I found an example in my ménage story Wild About That Thing. Ruby Jones, the heroine, owns a struggling blues club that represents her life's dream. As the story opens, she has received a letter from the lawyers for the new owner of her rented building, indicating that her lease will not be renewed and that she must vacate the premises. Her anxiety over her impending eviction colors her reactions to the two men who become her lovers.

Quite late in the tale, I reveal the fact that one of her lovers, Remy, is in fact the building owner. This serves two purposes in the narrative, emotional and practical. First, it adds a sudden obstacle to the relationship (since Ruby is rightfully upset that he had not told her sooner) and also allows the second man in the triangle, Zeke, to come to Remy's defense. Second, it provides a plausible solution to the problem of Ruby's eviction.

Keeping important details secret from your readers can be an effective way to add unpredictability, but it does carry the risk of appearing contrived. The new information, when it is finally exposed, must be believable. It must not seem to "come from left field". If you can, you should drop hints earlier in the story. When the revelation finally occurs, you want your readers to nod their heads, saying "Yes, of course, I should have known!"

2. Keep alternatives alive

Fiction, especially romantic fiction, frequently revolves around a character's choices. Your heroine may be choosing between two potential relationships, or between a relationship and a life path that will make that relationship impossible. To avoid predictability, you need to paint the competing alternatives as equally attractive and plausible. You should also maintain the ambiguity concerning the character's ultimate decision for as long as possible.

To implement this strategy, you can use trade-offs. No one choice is perfect. Each has advantages and disadvantages. Highlight those contrasts for your reader. Meanwhile, watch out for stereotypes. The handsome, arrogant, wealthy playboy; the smoldering, tortured bad boy biker; the sensitive, nurturing guy next door... You know what I mean. Stereotypes are a sure way to kill suspense - unless you set them up and then turn them on their heads. This is actually another technique for avoiding predictability. If, for example, the playboy is later revealed to be a submissive who wants to serve as the heroine's 24/7 slave, you'll definitely surprise (and possibly delight) your readers.

This strategy can apply to alternative explanations or scenarios, as well as decision alternatives. In my erotic suspense novel Exposure, Stella realizes that any of several people might be responsible for the mayor's murder and the threats she receives: the mayor's widow; his opponent in the upcoming election; the sinister mob boss; even the cop who's Stella's high school friend and current lover. I try to provide evidence supporting each of these hypotheses. I want to keep the reader guessing.

3. Allow your characters to change

A story is a journey taken by your characters. Events occur and the characters change in response. You can use these changes to make your story less predictable. As the tale unfolds and your characters develop, they will behave and react in ways your reader may not expect. In fact, their surprising behavior will reveal the nature of their inner changes.

The movie "Long Kiss Goodnight" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0116908/) provides a great example. Geena Davis stars as a suburban wife and mother who gradually recovers from amnesia to realize that she's a former spy. Over the course of the film, polite, conventional, squeaky-clean Samantha morphs into wise-ass, slutty, violent Charly, the top secret agent now running for her life. The shift is gradual. Since you never know (until you see it) how far Charly has reverted to her old self, you never know exactly what she's likely to do.

Most romance character shifts are less extreme. Just remember that static characters are easy to predict. Also, some change trajectories have become clichés. The uptight, authoritarian female executive who gradually realizes that she craves submission; the woman wounded by past relationships who must learn to trust a new love; the emancipated, free-wheeling chick looking for no-strings sex who discovers instead a deep need for commitment; these patterns have been been employed so often that they'll kill any suspense - unless of course, you use misdirection, shattering the cliché to send the character off on a new and surprising path of development

4. Take advantage of strong emotion

Characters don't just change over the course of the story, but moment to moment as well. Even the most stable individuals are not 100% consistent in how they behave, especially under the influence of strong emotion. Anger, grief, guilt, terror and shame can all induce people to behave in atypical ways that would be hard to predict based on their normal personalities. Since such emotions often occur at critical points in your plot, you can use them to introduce the unexpected into your tales.

For example, Kate O'Neil, the heroine of my novel Raw Silk, is a self-confident, independent professional woman. Her first full-blown experience as a submissive stuns and scares her. She actually skips out of work, jumps on a plane, and escapes to the safest place she can think of (in this case, Singapore). This is highly unusual for someone as responsible and career-oriented Kate. Even I was surprised when she did it! The episode contributes to the plot by providing her with an opportunity to reflect on her reactions - as well as a chance for readers to catch their breath.

I’ve been using erotic romance for my examples so far, but non-romantic erotica also has its predictable patterns. Ultimately, readers expect the characters to have some sort of sexual interaction—and more likely sooner rather than later! Readers are in it for the climax, sure, but the experience will be more pleasurable if there are some twists and turns along the way. That’s why I personally find a lot of “stroke fiction” uninteresting and unsatisfying. If there’s no suspense at all, just fucking, the story falls flat. (Your mileage may vary, of course.)

Authors of genre fiction walk a tightrope. On the one hand, we must give our readers the pattern of resolution they expect - a happy ending, in the case of romance, an orgasm (or more than one!) in erotica. On the other, we want to keep our readers turning the pages, wondering what is going to happen next. We must be faithful to the conventions of our genre while still ringing enough changes to be fresh and exciting. It's a tall order. I hope that the suggestions I've made in this post get you thinking about how you can maintain this balance in your own work.

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

Book Hooks: Wild About That Thing - #MFRWHooks #blues #menage #giveaway

Book Hooks logo

It’s Wednesday, which means it’s time for another Marketing for Romance Writers Book Hooks blog hop.

My hook today comes from my blues-themed ménage erotic romance Wild About That Thing

 

Two things are important to Ruby Jones: her teenage son and her struggling club, the Crossroads Blues Bar. Her love life comes in 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 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.

The Hook

Ruby could feel it in her bones. It was going to be a good night. Only ten thirty, but most of the tables clustered ‘round the stage were full. Lori had already lugged two extra cases of Heineken—tonight’s beer special—up from the basement, and from the looks of the empties accumulating in front the customers, they were going fast. The bartender caught Ruby’s eye and gave her a thumbs up. Everything under control.

Up front, the Night Travellers hit a dark groove, wailing through Born Under a Bad Sign. Zeke’s fingers flew over the strings, improvising a high riff, while Jojo’s bass kept the song grounded. “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all,” Zeke growled, torturing his guitar to match the pain in his voice. Damn, but the man sounded black, despite the mop of straw-coloured hair he kept pushing out of his eyes. Born in Mississippi, he must’ve soaked up blues in the water and the air. Certainly he could play with the best. Ruby was lucky to have him and his band, given the pittance she could afford to pay them.

As if he sensed her attention, Zeke picked her out of the shadows at the back of the club. She felt the warmth of the smile he beamed to her, a smile totally at odds with the desperate mood of the song. You know why Zeke plays here, her inner critic commented. Youre just taking advantage of him.

He gets what he wants, she argued with the internal voice that sounded so very much like her mother’s. I treat him fine. Of course, she got as much out of their relationship as he did. Zeke was a strong man with powerful desires. He could set her on fire. It wasn’t her fault that he was so sentimental. You wouldn’t expect it from a rough and tumble guy like Zeke Chambers—ten years a New York cabbie, a guy who’d seen every horror the city could dish out.

~ ~ ~ ~

Want to win a free copy of this book? Check out my blog post from lastSaturday for details. I’ll be drawing the winner next Saturday.

And don’t forget to visit the blogs of the other authors “hooking” today!


Saturday, May 5, 2018

Seven Genres I’ve Never Written - #SaturdaySeven #LASR #giveaway

Saturday Seven banner

I was going to title this post “Seven Genres I’ll Never Write”, but I decided that was unnecessarily rash. For one thing, I’ve been known to tackle a particular genre that feels alien just for the challenge of it. Also, I really don’t know how my tastes, or the market, will change. I don’t normally tend to be much influenced by the current trends or the latest hot selling themes, but it’s always possible that I’ll have a killer idea I just can’t resist.

So here’s a list of the genres I haven’t tried yet. I won’t try to predict the future.

Sports romance

As I noted in an earlier Saturday Seven post, I’m almost completely uninterested in any sort of team or organized sports. The closest I’ve come to a “sports” story was Crossed Hearts, a MM tale set at a competitive Scrabble tournament.

Western romance

For some readers, and authors, cowboys have an enduring appeal, but they generally leave me cold. I’m a born-and-bred Easterner, for one thing. I’ve traveled through the American West, but I don’t know it well and actually don’t feel that comfortable in those dusty, arid, wide open spaces.

Then there’s the smell. Whenever I try to imagine a sexy cowboy, I start thinking about what he’d smell like after riding a horse all day, or rounding up the cattle, or mucking out the barns... The question of olfactory stimuli becomes particularly off-putting when I think about historical Western tales. Back in the days of the Wild West, baths were at best a monthly activity!

Zombie romance

Vampires, yes. Shifters, sure. Ghosts, tentacled monsters, even Big Foot might make their way into one of my stories. But zombies? As characters? I’ve written a bit of erotic horror, but I can’t imagine how I could make zombies appealing. Again, decomposing bodies are going to reek, and bad smells put me in a very bad mood.

I guess I could imagine writing a scifi romance set in the context of a zombie apocalypse, though that’s been done so often I think I’d be bored. I will say that I’d be deeply impressed by an author who managed to create a sympathetic, non-disgusting zombie protagonist.

Secret baby romance

I’ve never written a pregnant heroine, let alone a classic (dare I use that term?) secret baby romance. This is partly due to the fact that I personally don’t have children (other than my fur babies) and have never been pregnant. I came of age after the advent of the Pill, so I’ve always had control of my fertility. I think the whole topic is less central for me than for many women.

I certainly can imagine writing a story where the conflict involved pregnancy, but I haven’t done so yet.

In fact, as far as I can recall, only two of my many heroines have children, Ruby Jones in Wild About That Thing, and Beatrice, the Victorian woman with the secret life in my novel Miranda’s Masks.

Regency romance

I love historical fiction. I love to read it, and I’d love to write more of it than I dothough to be honest I’m sometimes too lazy to do the research this would require. Still, I’ve written a few historical tales, set in the Middle Ages, in Elizabethan times, in the Victorian period and in the Gilded Age at the turn of the twentieth century. Somehow, though, I’ve never had the slightest inclination to write a Regency story, despite their popularity.

One factor is my unfamiliarity with the period. However, I have to say that in general, I have not found the Regencies I’ve read to be all that interesting. I guess I prefer ordinary, everyday people to the dukes and earls that seem to populate this sub-genre.

Military romance

This is another really popular sub-genre that doesn’t ring my bell at all. I grew up during the Vietnam war, and I’m certain that colored my view of the armed forces. Everyone I knew would do anything they could to avoid military service.

Futanari romance

In case you’re not familiar with the term, futanari refers to individuals who have the sexual characteristics of both genders. There’s a popular niche genre for erotica and erotic romance featuring such characters. Sally Bend’s Bending the Bookshelf blog reviews many of them.

I’ve never read any of this genre, let alone written any. However, I’ll be frank; I’m tempted, if only because I really like mixing things up in my stories.

Solet me ask you, my readers: are there any of these genres that you’d like to see me try? Leave me a comment with your thoughts. I’ll randomly draw the name of one reader who’ll receive his or her choice of Crossed Hearts or Wild About That Thing.





By the way, be sure to visit the other authors who have Saturday Seven posts today. You’ll find the full list of links at Long andShort Reviews.

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

More than one way to beat the blues (#MFRWHooks #menage #romance)

Wild About That Thing cover

Welcome back! It’s Wednesday again, time for another Books Hooks blog hop from the MRFW authors.

Today I’m featuring my MFM music-themed contemporary ménage, Wild About That Thing. Ruby Jones is one of my favorite characters, a no-nonsense lady who knows exactly what she wants, and isn’t shy about going to get it.

Let me know what you think. And be sure to visit all the other authors hosting Book Hooks posts today!

Blurb

There’s more than one way to beat the blues.

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.



The Hook

To kick things off tonight, I want to invite a very special lady to join us here on stage. She’s been through some hard times, friends, and she knows the blues. It’s in her blood, passed on from her daddy, Jimmy ‘The Harp’ Jones. When she sings, she spills her soul. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Ruby Jones, the lovely owner of the Crossroads Blues Bar!”

Applause filled the club. Zeke’s invitation hadn’t been a surprise. They’d discussed having her warm up the crowd, and of course, she’d been performing since she was a kid. Nevertheless, his effusive introduction made her feel self-conscious. Ruby wished she’d worn something a bit more glamorous than her usual jeans and tailored shirt.

She picked her way between the tables, headed for the stage. Zeke held out a big hand. When she grasped it, he swung her onto the platform, and quite neatly, into his arms. The crowd roared.

Zeke brushed his lips across hers. His distinctive scent engulfed her—clean sweat, Jim Beam and Ivory Soap. It was like turning on a movie—she instantly remembered the last time he’d been inside her. His blond stubble grazed her cheek. She saw him in her mind’s eye—body suspended above hers on powerful arms as he buried his cock in her pussy, fucking her with a smooth, steady rhythm while he scanned her face, focussed on her pleasure. She felt again the way he stretched and filled her. The seam of her jeans teased her suddenly swollen clit. She wondered if Zeke could smell her growing dampness. Hell, what about the rest of the band?

Stop it,” she whispered, pushing against his rock-hard chest.

Zeke released her with obvious reluctance. “I love her,” he told the audience, eliciting a chorus of hoots and whistles. Aching, hungry and guilt-ridden, Ruby knew he meant every word.

Buy Links

Amazon

BN

TotallyBound

Add on Goodreads:


Be sure to visit the other authors participating in Book Hooks this week!



Sunday, August 21, 2016

Sunday Snog 240: Wild About That Thing (#MFM #interracial #blues)




It’s Sunday again — time for another sizzling kiss excerpt.

I am still trying to figure out what happened with my Sunday Snog post last week. As of today (Saturday the 20th), I’d gotten nearly 11,000 views on that post. Uh—not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but my posts normally get between 200 and 400 hits. What the heck is going on?

The only thing I could figure out is that maybe the hashtag #interracial was what pulled in readers. Now, even though I’ve written quite a few relationships between black and white characters, I am definitely ambivalent about labeling my stories “interracial”. That seems exploitative to me. When I put characters of different races together, it’s not because I think it’s intrinsically “hot” for a black guy to be with a white woman, or vice versa. My characters may be black or white, Asian or European, but that’s just what they are. Their racial, ethnic and cultural backgrounds tend to be far too complex to encapsulate in a simple label.

Still, I’m trying an experiment, using the same hashtag for this post, which includes an excerpt from another “interracial” ménage story, Wild About That Thing. Here’s the blurb:

There's more than one way to beat the blues.

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.

I’ve got an X-rated excerpt below that includes a passionate kiss. After you’ve read it, I hope you’ll click over to Victoria’s place, for more sexy Sunday Snogs!

****

He slept beside her, his breathing deep and even. A complex perfume hung in the air of her small bedroom—sweat and semen, pussy and sandalwood incense.

She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think. She just wanted to lie there with her lover within reach and the rest of the world far away. Being with Zeke seemed to be the only thing that brought her this kind of comfort. She loved Isaiah dearly and enjoyed his company, but in her son’s presence she could never quite banish her worries.

The thought of her son roused her. She leaned over to peer at the alarm clock. When she saw the time, she sighed and gave Zeke a gentle shake.

Wake up, baby. You’ve gotta go.”

In one smooth motion, Zeke rolled towards her and gathered her into his arms. Her breasts flattened against his furry chest. “Let me stay, hon,” he murmured, nuzzling the sweet spot under her ear. His thickening cock prodded at the sticky juncture of her thighs. “It’s still early…”

Nearly six,” Ruby replied, relaxing into his embrace despite herself. “Isaiah will be up soon. You know how I feel.”

You feel wonderful,” Zeke replied, kneading her breast with one hand while wriggling the other between their bodies, down to her pussy. Ruby sucked in her breath as his fingers slipped inside her folds to stroke her clit. “And I can make you feel even better…”

Zeke…” she began. He stopped her objections with a deep kiss. His moustache tickled her upper lip. She tasted the bourbon he drank between sets. She loved his soft, lush mouth—she couldn’t pretend otherwise. The leisurely way his tongue played with hers suggested that he’d be happy doing nothing but kissing her forever.

You don’t really want me to go,” he continued when they broke for air. “You’re soaking wet, and your clit—” Ruby moaned as he flicked the swollen nub with one calloused digit. “—your clit is like a little marble.”

Yes… Oh, God, yes…”

Zeke reared up and settled back onto his heels, his fingers still dancing between her legs. “You couldn’t wait to get my clothes off earlier,” he commented. It was true. As soon as the club closed, Ruby had practically dragged him up the stairs to her apartment. “But I can tell you haven’t had enough yet.”

No—yes—wait—oh!”

Zeke grasped one of her thighs in each meaty hand and pulled her open. Then he bent and swept his tongue along her cleft. Pleasure shuddered through her. She arched up, wanting more. Her lover teased her, flicking back and forth between her swollen lips, but avoiding contact with her clit. She thrashed underneath him, desperate for direct stimulation.

Please…please, baby…”

Finally he took pity on her. He burrowed his face into her pussy and sucked hard. Lightning shot up her spine. Tension coiled inside her. Sinking her fingers into his hair, she forced his head deeper into her drenched cunt and ground her clit against his nose.

His teeth nipped the aching bud of flesh. The tiny pain cut her free. Pleasure welled up from her depths and spilled over. His strong hands held her fast, splayed and vulnerable, as she jerked against his still-lapping tongue.

Before the last sparkles of sensation faded, his cock was at her entrance. He drove into her still-quivering cunt, hot and hard. Her muscles clenched around his bulk and a new climax seized her, sharper and deeper than the one before.

Zeke didn’t let her rest. He pounded into her again and again, just the way she liked, so fierce she thought he’d split her open. As he thrust, a third come gathered, like thunderheads on the distant horizon. 
 

Friday, October 10, 2014

A Giveaway at C.A.'s Blog... AND Here!

Hi! I'm over at C.A. Szarek's blog today, talking about how confused my characters sometimes seem to be about what - or whom - they want.

http://caszarekwriter.blogspot.com/2014/10/friday-feature-lisabet-sarais-confused.html

Since the post I sent her was too long - I do have a problem with wordiness - she decided to omit my excerpt from The Ingredients of Bliss. So I'm posting it here, just for fun, and because it highlights my main point about my character's confusion.

Leave a comment on her post or on this post and I'll enter you to win a copy of Wild About That Thing. Leave comments on both posts, and I'll enter you twice!


Excerpt (R-rated)

Damn you both! Im not some piece of meat to be carved up between you!All at once I wanted to get out of this too crowded bed. I wanted to throw on my clothes and storm out of the room in righteous indignation. To do so, though, I would have to clamber over Etiennes magnificent body. It would be difficult to avoid touching his resurgent erection.

Calm down, Emily.Harrys hand clamped around my wrist and I knew I wasnt going anywhere.We did confer about tonight, I admit. We agreed that sharing you was the best approach to a situation that was bound to become awkward very soon.

Awkward? Things were going very smoothly. You dominated me. I dominated Etienne. Everyone was happy.

You werent happy, love. Admit it. You felt guilty and confused. When you were with Etienne, you felt as though you were betraying me. Meanwhile Etiennes devotion had you worried about his reaction when he learned you belonged to me.

He was right, of course. I remembered my tête à tête with Etienne at the café that afternoon. Id been terribly concerned about his reaction to the news about Harry. Meanwhile when Harry had made me recount my exploits with Etienne, Id always tried to conceal my excitement, to play down the thrill I got acting the role of his mistress.

Youve got nothing to hide now.With his lanky frame, mussed hair and crooked grin, Harry almost looked like a teenager. A very horny teen, considering the substantial erection bobbing hopefully at his groin. He flipped back onto his side and fixed me with a slightly fuzzy gaze. He was irresistibly cute without his glasses.Everythings out in the open.

But its all socomplicated!As usual, my objections began to melt in the warmth of his smile.

He danced his fingers up my outstretched thigh and my pussy clenched in anticipation.

On the contrary, I think this considerably simplifies the situationMs Wong.Etiennes voice was deferential, but I read a mirror of Harrys mischief in his expression.I serve you. You serve Harry. Each of us gets what he or she wants.

Theres no more need for secrets, love. Or for surreptitiously administered enhancements to the libido, either…” Harry slipped a fingertip between my moist lips and grazed a fingernail across my clit.

My annoyance paled next to the flare of pleasure kindled by his touch. Before I could clamp down to hold his hand in my crotch, however, he’d snatched it away.

Oh no!I groaned, fighting arousal and disappointment.You told him?

I had my suspicions in any case. It doesnt matter. Your methods might have been dubious, but Im grateful for the results.Etienne glanced down at the livid marks from my beating, a set of parallel strips leading up his lean thighs toward his rearing cock.I might never have had the courage to act on my desires if not for yourumintervention.His voice held quiet pride.

You dont have to be ashamed or embarrassed,Harry added.All we wantboth of usis to satisfy you. To please you and make you happy. Cant you just accept that?

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Mother's Day Snog: Wild About That Thing

Today is Mother's Day, of course, so I wanted to find an appropriately maternal snog for you. 

I realized that very few of my heroines are moms. Probably this isn't all that surprising. I've never had kids myself, and though I have enormous respect for women (and men) who do, I don't have much first hand experience, at least from the parent's side. 
 
One of my stories, though, features a single mother who's struggling to simultaneously raise her son and realize her dream - to run a successful blues club. Ruby Jones in Wild About That Thing is a great mother, despite her guilt and doubts. Perfect for today. I even found an excerpt that shows it - while including a sexy kiss, too.

Enjoy! And after you've savored my snog, head over to Victoria's for more sexy Sunday kisses!



Up front, the Night Travellers hit a dark groove, wailing through Born Under a Bad Sign. Zeke’s fingers flew over the strings, improvising a high riff, while Jojo’s bass kept the song grounded. “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all,” Zeke growled, torturing his guitar to match the pain in his voice. Damn, but the man sounded black, despite the mop of straw-coloured hair he kept pushing out of his eyes. Born in Mississippi, he must’ve soaked up blues in the water and the air. Certainly he could play with the best. Ruby was lucky to have him and his band, given the pittance she could afford to pay them.

As if he sensed her attention, Zeke picked her out of the shadows at the back of the club. She felt the warmth of the smile he beamed to her, a smile totally at odds with the desperate mood of the song. You know why Zeke plays here, her inner critic commented. You’re just taking advantage of him.

He gets what he wants, she argued with the internal voice that sounded so very much like her mother’s. I treat him fine. Of course, she got as much out of their relationship as he did. Zeke was a strong man with powerful desires. He could set her on fire. It wasn’t her fault that he was so sentimental. You wouldn’t expect it from a rough and tumble guy like Zeke Chambers—ten years a New York cabbie, a guy who’d seen every horror the city could dish out.

Her phone vibrated in her jeans pocket, interrupting her train of thought.

“Hey, hon. What’s up? You should be in bed.”

“I’m going, Mama. I just want to finish this chapter…”

“Isaiah Jones, it’s nearly eleven and tomorrow’s a school night! You shut your light off right now!”

“Okay, okay, Mama! But don’t forget about your meeting tomorrow with Ms Rodriguez.”

“Oh, right.” Ruby sighed. Isaiah’s grades were good but he was so small that he tended to get bullied. She needed to put a stop to that, somehow. “Thanks, hon. Three thirty, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll be there, don’t worry. Then we’ll walk back home together. Maybe stop for a banana split.”

“Yum!”

“But only if you go to bed right now, you understand? I don’t want to have to come upstairs and make you!”

“Of course. Good night, Mama.”

“’Night, sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” Ruby fought against the wave of guilt that threatened to swamp her. Sure, it would be better if she could awaken with her son, make him breakfast and see him off to school like a “normal” mom. But the club kept her up until three a.m. most nights.

Isaiah understood. She’d tried staying up until after he’d left, but he had seen how wiped out that made her. He insisted she needed her sleep. At thirteen, he didn’t have any problem dressing and feeding himself—heck, he’d been doing it for the past two years, ever since she’d opened the Crossroads Blues Bar. He knew the club was her dream—the dream that had kept her alive after his bastard father took off with his leggy hygienist.

And the bar was finally starting to take off. Just last week, Time Out had published a feature about Crossroads. “A bit of Chicago or the Delta transplanted to Fourteenth Street,” the reviewer had raved. That glowing memory almost balanced the effects of the letter she’d received this afternoon.

The crowd erupted into claps and whistles as the Travellers finished their number. “Thank you kindly, ladies and gentlemen.” A decade in New York hadn’t erased the softness of the South from Zeke’s speech. “Welcome to our first open mic night here at the Crossroads. Hope you brought your axe, your sax or your harp—if you didn’t, well, hell, you can borrow ours! Everybody gets the blues sometimes. This is the place to let it all out!”

Fresh applause greeted Zeke’s invitation. He stood up there on the platform—his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans jacket, his axe hanging around his neck—and grinned like the country boy he used to be. At six-foot-one, with the solid build of a halfback, Zeke was an imposing figure. He’d broken up more than one drunken brawl for her over the past two years and he had a temper that could be scary. To Ruby and Isaiah, though, he’d been nothing but kind. Whatever success the Crossroads could claim was largely due to him.

“To kick things off tonight, I want to invite a very special lady to join us here on stage. She’s been through some hard times, friends, and she knows the blues. It’s in her blood, passed on from her daddy, Jimmy ‘The Harp’ Jones. When she sings, she spills her soul. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Ruby Jones, the lovely owner of the Crossroads Blues Bar!”

Applause filled the club. Zeke’s invitation hadn’t been a surprise. They’d discussed having her warm up the crowd, and of course, she’d been performing since she was a kid. Nevertheless, his effusive introduction made her feel self-conscious. Ruby wished she’d worn something a bit more glamorous than her usual jeans and tailored shirt.

She picked her way between the tables, headed for the stage. Zeke held out a big hand. When she grasped it, he swung her onto the platform, and quite neatly, into his arms. The crowd roared.

Zeke brushed his lips across hers. His distinctive scent engulfed her—clean sweat, Jim Beam and Ivory Soap. It was like turning on a movie—she instantly remembered the last time he’d been inside her. His blond stubble grazed her cheek. She saw him in her mind’s eye—body suspended above hers on powerful arms as he buried his cock in her pussy, fucking her with a smooth, steady rhythm while he scanned her face, focused on her pleasure. She felt again the way he stretched and filled her. The seam of her jeans teased her suddenly swollen clit. She wondered if Zeke could smell her growing dampness. Hell, what about the rest of the band?

“Stop it,” she whispered, pushing against his rock-hard chest.

Zeke released her with obvious reluctance. “I love her,” he told the audience, eliciting a chorus of hoots and whistles. Aching, hungry and guilt-ridden, Ruby knew he meant every word.