Authors Like Me

In the last few months, I've been lucky to read two truly outstanding books - the kind of books that remind me of my childhood, when reading was the biggest adventure I knew. The first, The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, is a lusciously imagined fantasy about magic, creativity, and the power of love. The second, The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi, is quite a different animal, a brilliant dystopic science fiction opus set in Bangkok, which demonstrates an incredibly perceptive understanding of Thai culture and the Thai psyche. I was so impressed by both these books that I've already bought three copies of the first and one of the second as gifts for other people who I think will appreciate them.

This post isn't about those books, though. I've already reviewed The Night Circus on Goodreads, and I'll definitely be doing the same for The Windup Girl. I want to say a bit about the authors of those books.

Both Erin Morgenstern and Paolo Bacigalupi have rocketed to fame in their respective genres, on the strength of their first published novels. When you read interviews with them, both sound slightly bemused by their successes. The Night Circus began its life as a Nanowrimo project, believe it or not. It's fascinating to read Ms. Morgenstern's comments about how different that initial draft was from the final book, and how many years of work it required to reshape it into its final form.

Meanwhile, Mr. Bacigalupi had four unpublished novels under his belt when he finally managed to find someone to buy The Windup Girl. Much to his astonishment (at least if one believes his interview), the book went on to win both the Nebula and the Hugo awards in 2010, as well as a number of other prestigious prizes.    

Reading these accounts of unexpected literary notoriety makes me realize that the people who win this crazy publishing lottery aren't necessarily superstars. They're authors, just like me (and possibly like you). Certainly in the case of these two writers, the accolades they've received are well deserved. However, there's a lot of chance that comes into play in determining who becomes a best-seller and who remains obscure. It's not (I've come to realize) something fundamental. I usually assume that my work isn't best-seller material. But then, who knows?

A common theme in the commentary I've read by these two authors is that now, everyone wants them to write a sequel, or at least another book in the same general style. Both appear to be quite resistant to this, and I applaud their independence. That's one problem with writing a best seller. You get a lot of pressure to produce more of the same, even if that isn't where your muse is leading you.

Anyway, next time you find yourself daydreaming about meeting and kowtowing to Stephen King, or Anne Rice, or Danielle Steele, or whomever you personally worship as a literary god, remember - they're just writers like the rest of us. They have the same problems banging out books. They face the same competition we all struggle against. They have to do promo when they'd rather be writing, just like you and me.

There's nothing magic about success. It's a combination of skill, luck, and damned hard work.

Who knows which of us might be the next E.L. James?

New and Naughty

“Anybody know of any blog hops?”

My friend and fellow author Jen Wright asked this question on one of my author lists about a week ago. Actually, I'd just finished participating in a great hop (Nicole Morgan's Hot Winter Nights), but I hadn't heard about any that were coming up.

“Nah, sorry.” I wrote back. “But we could create one. My mother always told me 'If you want something done, do it yourself.”

“Why not?” she replied. “My dad says the same thing.”

From these humble beginnings rose our New Year's blog hop extravaganza, “Something New, Something Naughty”.

It was Jen who came up with the title. Meanwhile, I wanted to offer a grand prize that would be a bit different, something more unusual than a bookstore voucher. “How about a gift certificate from EdenFantasys?,” I suggested. “That seems appropriate to the 'new and naughty' theme.”

What's EdenFantasys? My very favorite adult emporium. EdenFantasys has every sort of erotic product you can imagine – not just sex toys (though their variety in this realm is impressive – maybe even a bit scary!) but also bath, beauty and massage products, lingerie and fetish wear (many available in plus sizes), hilarious adult games and party favors, and erotic books (including lots of collections that include my stories, I'm pleased to note!). After Jen and I decided to do the hop, I spent some time (way too much time, actually) browsing at edenfantasys.com, drooling over the corsets and the restraints, reading the contributor profiles, and wondering whether I might incorporate some of the more exotic devices on offer into the BDSM steampunk novel I'm currently working on.

The site is more than a on-line store, though. EF is a community of everyday people who are interested in all things sexual - sort of a sexual social network. There are forums, videos, and an online magazine. The product reviews seem to be written by real customers, not sales folk. You can tell because sometimes the comments are not 100% positive. (“I can't really figure out how to use this...”, began one post that I read!)

One feature I just noticed on this visit is the interview section (many with authors and editors I know personally). EF has adopted an unusual format in which different members of the EF community each ask one question of the interview subject – similar to a chat or a press conference. Normally I find interviews a bit boring, but this is a new twist on a well-trod idea.

Anyway...trust me, if you win the grand prize in our blog hop – a $50 gift voucher - you will not be disappointed! Fifty bucks goes quite a long way at EF. In addition, we're giving away two $25 bookstore gift certificates, to your choice of Amazon, B&N, All Romance Ebooks, or Total-E-Bound (a publisher Jen and I share). Plus every single author participating in the hop will be giving away his or her own prize to someone who comments on that individual post.

So when is all this happening? January 10^th through 13^th of next year. We wanted to give you something to look forward to, after all the parties and celebrations were over.

If you're an author and you want to participate, click here to sign up. Registration will close on the 3^rd of January, so you have a bit of time to think about whether you really want to get involved in this madness. (You do! Believe me, you do!) Jen has a more detailed instructions over at her blog.

If you're a reader, keep your eyes and ears open. We'll be posting reminders on our blogs, on readers loops, and anywhere else we can think of.

Come join in the fun! If being naughty is new to you – try it. You'll like it!

Lust After Death

[Daisy Harris is back - you know, the fabulous author who wrote about the poor guy with the oversized schlong?  Anyway, I'm featuring her new book today, Lust After Death. Enjoy! ~Lisabet]

Lust After Death (Love Bots Book 1) by Daisy Harris

Blurb

In the Pacific Northwest, where life hurries to keep pace with technology, a re-animated bride named Josie struggles to escape her creator and to find her identity in the half-erased circuitry of her mind and body.

Assassin Bane Connor just wants to get the girl to the Zombie Underground and receive his payoff-a mental reset that will erase his memories as well as his guilt. But an attack by a rival faction derails his rescue, and the wide-eyed female whose circuitry requires a husband tears at his hardened heart and ignites desire like he's never known.

Excerpt

She peered down at her wet fingers, confusion etched on her angelic face, and then she gave her digit a tentative lick. Eyes wide with surprise, the girl fed her finger farther into the bow of her mouth.

Ho-ly shit! His body sprung to attention, his nerve endings strung taut as a bow.

Feeling like a peeping tom, Bane looked away from the window, assessing the pebbles below his crates and a nearby bank of leaves and weeds he could land on quietly. Then he gave a last glance through the window and noticed her hand caressing the water’s surface.

A fascinated smile played at her lips. Damn, she was beautiful, and not in some fake plastic surgery and programming way. She was fresh, shiny, new—like she held the keys to paradise.

Fuck, he was drunk. The crates wobbled underneath him and Bane let go of the windowsill with one hand, readying to jump. Really, he was leaving.

Her ivory hand slid up her hospital gown and tugged at the tie. The blue-striped, papery material sank from her shoulders to the floor, revealing a pale, slender body that seemed to shimmer under the bright bathroom lights.

Bane bit his bottom lip to stop from groaning out loud. His hips bucked forward of their own accord. The crates tilted to the side and he grabbed at the windowsill’s metal edging to right himself. His arms supported his weight and he trapped the top crate between his legs and pulled the pile back under his body, desperate for one more look. By the time he righted himself, the girl had turned her back on him to step into the tub.

If he’d thought the front of her was nice… Her back was long and delicate, her ass spectacular. Goose bumps rose on her skin and he could almost imagine the feel of them under his fingertips. The girl must have wondered about the water's temperature, because she bent forward at the hips to test it.

His right hand dropped to cup the bulge in his pants. He was a douche and a pervert. And he would jack off to this image for the rest of his undead life. Which, now that he thought about it, would only be a few more days.

Bio

Birkenstock-wearing glamour girl and mother of two by immaculate conception, Daisy Harris still isn't sure if she writes erotica. Her romances start out innocently enough. However, her characters behave like complete sluts. Much to Miss Harris's dismay the sex tends to get completely out of hand.

She writes about fantastical creatures and about young men getting their freak on, and she's never missed an episode of The Walking Dead.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/thedaisyharris

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Daisy-Harris/185042351535537

Website: www.thedaisyharris.com

Ellora’s Cave buy link:http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9442-lust-after-death.aspx

A Visit from Mistress Nicole - and the Twelve Days of SeXmas!

In the spirit of the season (and of my chosen genre), I recently wrote an erotic riff on the classic holiday poem, "A Visit from Saint Nicholas". I thought you might enjoy it.

And speaking of enjoyment - Total-E-Bound is running a fabulous contest between now and Christmas, entitled "The Twelve Days of SeXmas".  Every day you can win a bigger, and better, prize. Enter the first day's drawing here:

http://www.total-e-bound.com/1stdos.asp

 

Visit the TEB Home Page every day between now and Christmas for the links to succeeding day's prizes.

http://www.total-e-bound.com/default.asp

 And now for the poem...

A Visit from Mistress Nicole
By Lisabet Sarai

'Twas the night before Christmas.
Outside the snow fell,
But inside Club O,
It was hotter than hell.
The slaves were all hung
on their crosses with care
in hopes that their dominants
soon would be there.
The Doms were preparing
the racks and nail beds
with visions of ropework
and chains in their heads.
My pet wore her collar
and I with my tawse
was laying down stripes
red as old Mr. Claus.

When out at the entrance
arose such a clatter
I left my cuffed slut
to see what was the matter.

The light on her breasts
was like new-fallen snow
when compared to the crimson
silk corset below.
Her hair was like fire,
her lips were like cherries,
a ruby stud winked
in the dip of her belly.
Her black leather boots
clasped her legs to the thigh.
Her emerald eyes twinkling,
she raised her whip high.

"I've come to reward
all the masochist perverts
for all the year's humble
and diligent service."
Though as purely a top
as you're likely to meet,
I admit I was tempted
to kneel at her feet.

She strode into the dungeon
with oiled single tail.
Her lash made the subbies
all quiver and quail.
To each bottom's lips
the delicious Domme bent;
she wouldn't do more
till she had their consent.

But then she let loose
while we tops watched in awe
as she happily flogged
half a dozen subs raw.
"Now, baby - oh, boyo!
Breathe, girly - Now, Pet!
Take this now! Don't move!
Are you hard? Are you wet?"
As her whip kissed their flesh
we all thrilled at the sight,
while their asses turned scarlet,
their spirits took flight.

Till at last she relented,
the ritual done,
and we Doms found that we,
like our slaves, had all come.

And we heard her exclaim
as she vanished from sight:
"Merry Kinkmas to all!
May your bonds remain tight!"

See Me

[Today's Monday sneak peek is from See Me, a sizzling paranormal by Natalie-Nicole Bates. Enjoy! ~Lisabet]

Carly Anders is hearing voices in her head. Another one of her kind is trying to contact her. She knows of the malevolent freaks—others who are eternal like her and seek out the weak to inflict pain upon. For years, Carly has held up huge protective walls to keep herself and her secrets safe. Now, physically and mentally exhausted, Carly needs protection and rest.

She accepts the invitation to visit an internet friend who needs help appraising a collection of antique photographs. The situation is not ideal, but Carly hopes a male presence in her life will deter the determined suitor who haunts her thoughts and dreams.

Daniel Tremont is not what Carly is expecting.

The former funeral director has a secret of his own. Not only is he eternal like Carly, he is her creation from all those years before—her abomination she thought she killed.

Daniel has been searching for Carly for years. He knows she is the piece of his life that he has been missing for so long. Now that he has found her, he has no intentions of letting her go.

Buy links:

http://leapoffaithpublishing.com/#ecwid:category=2613677&mode=product&product=15767325

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B009MRN9P0/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B009MRN9P0&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelthouse-21

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B009MRN9P0/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B009MRN9P0&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelt-20

*****

Excerpt:

He waved a hand in front of her face, but she didn’t blink. The lights are on, but no one’s home.

“Carly, my angel,” he whispered and cupped her cheek into his palm. He revealed in the silkiness and warmth of her skin. Still, she didn’t react. She was almost…a zombie.

His own body jerked in reaction to the fear she was emanating. She was clearly sleepwalking and in the throes of one hell of a nightmare, yet she didn’t cry out any longer. It was all now playing out inside her mind.

“Charlotte, see me,” he implored.

Her lips twitched at the mention of her real name.

“See me,” he repeated.

Suddenly, her body gave way and she collapsed. Catching her, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. As he laid her down, her breathing became ragged. He placed a hand over her heart as it raced, and passed healing calmness through his hand, feeling the energy pulsate against her skin. Beneath his hand, he would feel her heartbeat slow to a normal rhythm.

“Daniel?” Her voice was mere caress.

“I’m here, my angel. You’re having a nightmare. You’re frightened. It’s okay now, I’m here, and I will never leave you,” he promised.

“Everyone leaves, Daniel. You can’t understand, you can’t…” Her body started to tremble.

He climbed onto the bed and straddled her body. Leaning close to her face, he said, “Carly, let go of your fear. I can take it. Let go and see me,” he commanded.

Her breath came out in a whoosh, and a wall of fear and resistance hit him like a blow from above. It wasn’t exactly painful, more startling than anything else.

His vision flip-flopped, and he could see an image from inside her mind of two souls forever entwined as the result of one act. It made perfect sense. She was reliving the day their souls became one. The day of the fire.

He then saw black, suffocating water. She was reliving her own death, as well.

As the visions left him, he was consumed with the mishmash of fear, loneliness, and resistance within her.

He had to make her understand that it was over. “I will never leave you, Carly. That is my promise to you,” he insisted.

A flicker of life ignited in her eyes. Her hands came up to his face, and to Daniel’s surprise, tears bubbled from his own eyes. He was releasing the pain and fear he had absorbed from his beloved.

“I’m so sorry, Daniel, so sorry,” she murmured.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, my love. It’s over. It’s time to move forward now.”

“You don’t understand what I am, Daniel.”

“I do understand, Carly. I am what you are. See me for what I am.”

In his mind, he could see the moving clockwork gears of her thoughts once again as she tried to process what he was telling her to be true.

“Just accept it, and let’s move forward.”

She drew his face to hers and her lips parted beneath his. Time blurred and he drank in the essence of his Carly. Her soft, barely covered curves molded themselves against his the hard planes of his body. Her hands were under his t-shirt, her fingers stroking him.

If he pressed on, he knew she wouldn’t refuse him. But in her vulnerable state, he wouldn’t let anything progress further that night. Carly needed time to process everything that happened. There was plenty of time to pursue a physical relationship. They weren’t going any where…he hoped.

*****

Natalie-Nicole Bates is a book reviewer and author.
 

Her passions in life include books and hockey along with Victorian and Edwardian era photography and antique poison bottles. Natalie attributes her uncharacteristic love of hockey to being born in Russia.

She currently resides in the UK where she is working on her next book and adding to her collection of 19^th century post-mortem photos.

Visit Natalie online at www.natalienicolebates.com

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/BatesNatalie

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/natalienicole.bates

Blog: www.natalienicolebates.com

Sunday Snog from Quarantine - and a Giveaway!

It's Sunday again, and I'm celebrating my Rainbow Awards honorable mention some intense orality from Quarantine. Furthermore, I'm giving away a print copy of the book. All you have to do is comment!

Don't forget to visit Snog Central over at Victoria's where I suspect she has lots of holiday magic brewing, and links to many more luscious lip locks!

 

A rickety staircase led to the basement. Here, in a tiled maze of passages, the sex was far more public. One man pinned his partner to the wall, wrists captured overhead, jerking himself off while plundering his companion’s mouth. Another couple, one man deeply tanned, the other pale, writhed on a bench in one of the alcoves, hips pumping in synchrony. Further down, they encountered two burly biker types sharing a slight, bookish-looking man with a dark ponytail. Their victim bent over a stool, with one cock buried in his ass and another in his drooling mouth. Bold tattoos rippled over the bikers’ muscular backs as they pounded into him. The bliss on the younger man’s face made it clear that he was a willing participant in this scene.

Dylan glanced at Rafe, checking his reaction to this raunchiness. The black man’s full lips were parted in a pant. His eyes simmered with lust. His erection distorted the towel, a wet spot growing at the tip. Grinning, Dylan unknotted his own towel and swung it around his neck. His cock arched towards the ceiling, eager for action.

He caught and held Rafe’s eyes. Don’t be afraid, he broadcast to his lover. I’m here. The other man seemed to get the message. Slowly, without breaking the visual connection, he unwrapped his hips and set his massive erection free.

Dylan was suddenly dizzy with need. He sank to his knees, mouth open to receive the glorious hardness waving in front of his face. Rafe, however, pulled him back to his feet.

“Not here,” he said. He half-dragged Dylan through an open doorway into a vast, empty room that smelled faintly of chlorine. The rectangular depression in the centre was an old swimming pool, empty now save for an algae-scummed puddle at the deep end. Rafe settled on the ledge that ran along the wall and spread his legs wide. His dick reared up like a snake, the single eye charming Dylan into a motionless trance.

“Suck me,” Rafe commanded. Dylan didn’t need a second invitation. In two seconds, he was kneeling between those corded thighs.

Ignoring the chill, slimy tile under his knees, he leaned forward and swallowed Rafe to the very root. He buried his nose in Rafe’s wiry pubes. The rich man-musk drowned out the smells of mould and rotting wood. The spongy knob prodded his palate. He drew back, sucking hard and wringing a groan of appreciation from Rafe. “Your mouth is so damn hot,” the black man moaned as Dylan slithered his tongue along the silky shaft, then engulfed it once more. “Oh, God! Yes!”

Usually Rafe took control, fucking Dylan’s mouth with the same ferocity he lavished on his ass. This time, though, he let Dylan do the work of pleasing him. Dylan played with the fat log of flesh, alternating between teasing his lover and devouring him. He pursed his lips over the bulb, tongued the weeping slit, flicked at the sensitive frenulum, until Rafe was begging for more. Then he plunged down, turning on the suction, immersing his lover in wet heat.

Finally, Rafe couldn’t hold back. He seized Dylan’s head, holding him fast. His blunt fingers clutched handfuls of Dylan’s hair as he drove his cock down the other man’s throat. The slight pain made Dylan’s own prick even harder. He relaxed, opening himself to everything Rafe gave him.

He forgot about the camp. He forgot about Hammer. He completely forgot where he was. Rafe was his only reality―hardness and heat filling his mouth, salt and bitterness on his tongue, ripe sweat in his nostrils, smooth ebony skin rippling in front of his half-closed eyes.

-----------

Leave a comment and you could win your own copy of the book. Don't forget to include your email!

Ten Fun Facts about ME

Hello, everyone!

Usually I have a guest on Saturdays, but for some reason my calendar today is empty. So I thought that maybe I'd interview myself...sharing some facts that you might now know about Lisabet Sarai.

Here goes:

Ten Fun Facts about Lisabet Sarai

I was named after Queen Elizabeth the Second because I was born in the year of her coronation.

So that will immediately let you know that I'm no spring chicken, since Her Majesty the Queen celebrated her Diamond Jubilee – sixty years on the throne – this year. Yes, I'll be hitting the big six-oh in January, and darn it, I'm having a huge party! Though perhaps not as big as the Queen's...

When I was in primary school, I wanted to be an astronaut.

When I watched Alan Shepard, the first American shot into space, on the black and white TV in our school cafeteria, I was overcome with wonder. I read science fiction (Robert Heinlein, Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov and anyone else I could get my hands on), watched the television show “My Favorite Martian”, and daydreamed about discovering new planets and alien races. Only when I reached junior high did I learn that astronauts had to be perfect physical specimens. With my coke-bottle glasses and flat feet, I wasn't going to pass muster. It never occurred to me that being female might be an obstacle.

I've always written but never considered a career as a writer.

My love affair with words began very early. Family apocrypha relate that I was talking at six months old. (My husband says that I haven't stopped since!) My writing files include some stories and poems I composed when I was seven years old. I wrote fiction, poetry and plays throughout elementary school, high school, college and grad school. Writing has always been my favorite mode of expression. And yet it never occurred to me that I might make my living as an author. I expected to be a scientist. My role models were Marie Curie and Rosalind Franklin, not Charlotte Brontë or Anne Rice (even though I loved their books).

While I was in graduate school, I regularly performed as a belly dancer.

You can see a photo of (a much younger) me in the gallery on my website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/gallery.html), wearing a costume I sewed myself. I'd been exposed to Middle Eastern music and dance in high school and fell in love with it. Later I had the chance to take lessons and workshops from professionals. I still find it hard to sit still when someone starts playing a baladi or a ciftitelli rhythm, and I miss my zils.

I've traveled to every continent except Australia (and Antarctica).

My husband seduced me in a Burmese restaurant with his tales of foreign adventures. We've been traveling every since, though financial constraints and work requirements mean that our trips are shorter and less frequent than we'd like. The majority of our voyages have taken us to Asia or Europe, but I've also visited Morocco, Peru, Costa Rica, and New Zealand. I should mention that I still have a long wish list of places we haven't been!

I don't like sweets and could live my whole life without chocolate.

Unbelievable as it may sound, I have very little interest in desert. I'd much rather have a second helping of the main dish. Meanwhile, chocolate makes me break out as if I were still a teenager. I don't really mind. Seriously! If all the chocolate in the world suddenly vanished, I wouldn't even notice.

My favorite foods include tuna fish salad, fried chicken, and pot roast.

Especially when I'm the cook!

I think I lived a past life in the Victorian era.

I guess this is more of a theory than a fact. As long as I can remember – long before the advent of steam punk - I've had a special attraction to Victorian architecture, fashion and literature. I dream of living in a gingerbread-ornamented “painted lady” in San Francisco, with a turret and a veranda. My high school photo shows a young woman with long hair, a long, tight-belted skirt and a high-necked, white-ruffled blouse with a cameo brooch. My novel Incognito features a Victorian subplot and I swear, writing Beatrice's diary entries from the 1880's felt as natural as breathing.

I seem to have a jukebox in my head.

I don't play any instrument but I probably can sing two hundred songs from memory – maybe more. A chance phrase that I hear or read is likely to set some song running in my mind, involuntarily. It doesn't seem to matter whether I like the song or not. Once the loop starts, the only way to interrupt it is to deliberately sing a different tune.

I never expected to get married, but last June my husband and I celebrated our thirty year anniversary.

There was so much divorce in my family, I couldn't see the point of marriage. In addition, I considered it highly unlikely that I'd meet one guy who could keep me from getting bored. Turns out I was wrong, though – and believe me, I'm very grateful!

And finally, a brand new and exciting fact - my M/M science fiction erotic romance Quarantine got an honorable mention in Elisa Rolle's Rainbow Awards. I didn't even know I was in the running! I'm really thrilled to be recognized at all, given that I've only written four M/M books in my life. This may encourage me to start on the sequel I've been pondering!

To celebrate, I'll be featuring an excerpt from the book in my Sunday Snog tomorrow - and giving away a print copy of the book!