Saturday, November 10, 2012

The Dom with a Safeword

By Cari Silverwood (Guest Blogger)


The Dom with a Safeword is out. We released it early due to the big US Hurricane Sandy. This is my first ménage story, first Mff story, and first completely fictional contemporary BDSM story. Well…fictional apart from the characters as they’re loosely based on people we know. This book was written with Leia Shaw, a best-selling PNR writer, and Sorcha Black. We each took a character. I was called on to be the ‘sexpert’ lol. Leia Shaw was the dialogue and humor expert – because she’s a natural smartass herself – and Sorcha Black was our new-to-publishing, but up-and-coming great writer. None of us are contemporary writers normally.

One of the joys I discovered was opening up the doc for the story and finding that the story had moved on without me. The quirks of the people we wrote slowly unfurled and crept out from under the bed without me doing much at all. It was like opening a birthday present most days and added to the whole experience of writing. It helped a lot that we knew exactly who these people were that we were writing. We knew how they ticked and what they’d do when faced by different dilemmas.

I wrote the Dom, Jude. Leia wrote the innocent submissive, Sabrina, who is new to both BDSM and girl-on-girl. And Sorcha Black wrote the bisexual switch Q, who hates her real name and rarely tells it. Both the girls are what is called a brat in the BDSM world – they tend to open their mouths and get themselves in trouble. To them, that adds spice and fun to the relationship.

Be prepared for a bit of humor with this book. We were determined to make Jude like a real man – with a proper sense of humor. He’s not perfect and he can laugh at his mistakes, sometimes. Which times those are may vary greatly so there’s an even chance you’d get your ass spanked for being all smartass to him.

Let’s hear from Q.

Q gave her an exasperated look then released her. “Smartass.”

“You already said that.” Sabrina collected her equipment off the ground.

“You go through life in a perpetual state of smartassery.”

Sabrina handed Q her photography gear, thankful her friend had experience and was willing, for the most part, to help her. “Only for you, sexy.” She winked.

Her extreme smartassery, even when she really needs to hold her tongue, means Sabrina gets around with a red backside for much of the book. But I don’t think she minds as much as she lets on.

Blurb

Late at night, on an amateur ghost hunt, Sabrina and her best friend Q are caught trespassing by the gorgeous, blonde Jude. The embers of attraction between them sizzle when they discover Jude’s kinks match their own. Jude is a Dom on his last summer of freedom before starting the prison sentence that is med school. Q is a badass bi switch who knows what she wants, and for years it’s been her cute, doe-eyed straight friend Sabrina. But the only way for Q to get into Sabrina’s heart and panties may be with Jude’s fist wrapped in her hair.

Domming the bratty Q and mischievous Sabrina isn’t going to be easy but Jude relishes the challenge. At the end of the summer, will they find a way to stay together when everything is tearing them apart?









So here’s an excerpt to show you a bit of the naughtiness and humor from the Dom with a Safeword.

***
“Do you think he’s ever going to take his pants off?” Sabrina whispered in Q’s ear. “Maybe he shares his penis with another guy and today wasn’t his day to use it.”

“I kept the jeans on so I wouldn’t rush things,” Jude replied, slapping Sabrina’s ass.

“Well it’s not exactly rushing anymore. Both of us are naked, so how is this fair?” she retorted, gesturing at the offending article of clothing.

“I’m the dominant, so I get to make the rules.” His head tilted in a look of smug amusement.

“Fuck that!” Q knelt up on the window seat, leaned over Sabrina and pulled at the button of his jeans. “This is a mutiny, Captain!”

After wriggling free, Sabrina tried to hold him still while he batted away Q’s hands. They had just managed to get the button untied, when he dragged both of them over to sit on his lap. They didn’t quite fit, but he didn’t give them the option of getting up.

“Hold your hair up, both of you,” he ordered.

Looking askance at each other, they complied. The sensation of his breath rippling over Q’s neck sent shivers up into her hair. His mouth latched onto the place where her neck and shoulder met, and Q sighed in contentment. Sucking and nibbling on their necks and shoulders, he held them still for his enjoyment. Eventually he let them go so they could participate.

Sabrina sucked on Q’s bottom lip then trailed tiny kisses down to her chin, past her neck, to her breast. She paused as though she was having an internal debate. Slowly, she backed off Jude’s lap onto the cushion. She shifted onto her hands and knees, grazing Q’s nipple with her lips and making her groan. Her pink tongue darted out, licking the very tip. She looked up at Q mischievously, her ass wiggling.

Both she and Jude eyed Sabrina’s backside with interest, smiling at each other when they realized they were doing it simultaneously. Q’s smile became a gasp as something warm and wet engulfed her nipple. She watched in fascination as Sabrina’s sucking and nipping mouth alternated between her breasts. Her tongue investigated Q’s piercings. Enraptured, Q ran her fingers though Sabrina’s silky hair, the slide of it through her hands sensuous. The elastic that had been holding it when they were painting hung tenuously onto the bottom of a lock of hair, and she tossed it aside.

***

You can find buy links and a longer excerpt at:
Link to my website: http://www.carisilverwood.net/





Friday, November 9, 2012

Rhea #9

[Greetings, everyone! Today I'm participating in the Amber Kell/Mikela Q. Chase Birthday Blog Bash, by featuring the next installment (Part 9) in her story Rhea. Want the earlier pieces? Click over to https://mikelachase.wordpress.com/ for a list of the previous postings. And while you're there, check out my birthday post. If you leave a comment, you might win a copy of my M/M BDSM romance Crossed Hearts! ~ Lisabet]


The rest of the trip went in a blur of fashion designer dresses and Rhea resisting the urge to throw her sister’s datapad out the window.

For the last time they don’t wear purple to get married here,” Rhea told her sister. “They wear green. You’d know that if you read any of the information they sent you.”

Jamie waved her hand as if brushing away that thought from her consideration. “I will start a new trend,” she declared.

You will start a riot is what you’ll do. Can you at least wait until your married to offend the country? At lest then they’ll be less likely to kick you out.”

Shaking her head, Jamie thumbed the button to change the page of her display. “People shouldn’t become so hidebound they don’t consider new ideas,” Jamie protested.

and newcomers should take little steps before they try to overcome centuries of tradition,” Rhea scolded her sister. She didn’t know why she bothered. Jamie would do whatever she wanted. Their father thought her willful but Rhea considered her sister confident. Jamie knew what she wanted and refused to compromise. If she’d been a man they’d have called her commanding instead of all the other names they liked to use behind her back.

I’m going to set the new fashion,” Jamie insisted.

Rhea shrugged. She wouldn’t be around long enough to see if it took off or not. She’d be gone soon after her sister’s wedding. She’d only promised to get Jamie safely to her future husband and watch over her until she could establish an honor guard of her own. After that Rhea would go back home.

The train began slowing down and Jamie stashed her datapad in her purse. They both leaned forward to see out the window but the bulk of the train blocked their view. It wasn’t until it swept to the left and they spotted an enormous train station did they see any sign of civilization. The abruptness of the change of scenery startled Rhea. Even though she’d read of about the city being a thriving metropolis the shift from stark desert to bustling city spiked her power.

All those bodies moving around. Rhea licked her lips as one particularly fit male bent over to pick up a box. Her magic warmed her core as she contemplated all the delicious things she could do with a tall strong man who looked like he could lift her easily while he screwed her against the wall.

A cold hand wrapped around her wrist snapped her out of her thoughts.

I think that other moon is rising, sis.” Jamie’s voice, tense and concerned, had Rhea staring at her in surprise.

What makes you think that?” Rhea couldn’t see the moon, not with the buildings blocking the view.

Jamie pointed to Rhea’s glowing skin. “Because I think you’re going into heat.”


Wednesday, November 7, 2012

My Writing - My Life!

By Jennifer Wright (Guest Blogger)


I’d like to start off by giving a big thank you to Lisabet for hosting me today. I’m really excited to be here.

I've had a couple of people ask me,“Why do you write m/m romance?”  Well that's easy... because I enjoy it.  I started out writing m/f romance, and I did enjoy that, but writing about two men finding love and getting hot and bothered together is soooooo much better!

I'll admit that at first I was a little scared to write m/m romance.  I was worried that people would think differently of me and even act differently around me - or not be around me at all anymore.  I even kept the m/m books I read to myself, hidden on the bottom shelf of my bookcase, making sure none of the covers could be seen. Trying to find a way to hide the cover while I was reading them was hard as ever, but I did it.  I loved - and still do of course - reading m/m romance, but I let the world and its ugly views it still has get to me, so I kept that part of my life a secret.  It finally got to the point, though, that my writing wasn't as creative anymore.  I felt deep down that I could do so much better.  It took about a year to realize it was because I was writing the wrong genre.

After reading and being inspired by a series by my favorite m/m author, JL Langley, I said screw it!  If I want to write gay romance, then I will!  Who cares what other people think? It's my writing, it's my life, and I'm going to do what I want to do.  People can accept me or not, it makes no difference to me. Boy did I get all worked up for nothing because my family and boyfriend are behind me 100%. I don’t go shouting to the world the type of genre I write, but if someone asks I generally tell them. There are the few cases that I only say ‘romance’ and then finagle my way around describing my books without actually revealing they’re m/m, but I only do this to keep the peace. There are still those people that I have to associate with that I’d rather not have animosity between us just because they’re not accepting of it. I do it for my peace of mind – not theirs.

So, Pavarus actually started out as an m/f romance. Instead of Wesley, the heroine’s name was Elena. I was probably a good third of the way through the story when I decided to change it. Let me tell you something, going through that much writing and changing every she/her to he/him/his is a big pain in the butt. Not to mention how many scenes I had to change because ‘putting on the dress…’ no longer fit.

It was worth it, though, because until then I had never had this much fun writing. It finally feels natural – it finally feels right. The words and storyline come to me so much easier now.
With that being said, how about I give you a little taste of Pavarus.

Book Blurb

Thrown into another world where dangerous creatures live and rule, will Wesley stay and find love with a vampire, or will the terrors of an unknown realm have him running home?
On a camping trip in Louisiana, Wesley finds himself sucked down a hidden portal and thrown into another realm where he meets Remus, a warrior vampire. With the help of Remus, Wesley embarks on an adventure to find his way home, back to a world not filled with vampires and dragons and magic folk. Along his journey, the handsome vampire finds his way into Wesley’s heart. But will his love for Remus overcome his fears of the creatures that reign in this world?
Remus has never wanted a man before but finds himself drawn to Wesley despite his denying efforts. He’s happy with his life as the Commander of the vampires, and has had no interest in finding a mate. But after Wesley is kidnapped, Remus discovers his feelings for the man are stronger than he thought. Is he strong enough, though, to honour Wesley’s wish to return home, and let go of the man he loves?
Excerpt
Wes woke to a light, bouncy, swaying motion. It was soothing, and all he wanted to do was cuddle up against the soft cotton that covered the hard chest where his cheek rested. Somehow he knew that the strong arms around him would keep him safe and that he could rest for a little while longer.
Are you going to wake up enough for me to put you down?” a gentle voice asked.
Wes tried burrowing deeper in his arms. “No. Why would I want to do that?”
The man’s laugh rumbled in his chest like a deep lullaby. So relaxing. Wes breathed in deep, taking in his scent—Remus’ scent—and he smelt wonderful.
Wait. Man? Remus?
Vampire!
Wes gasped and jerked his body right out of Remus’ arms, landing flat on his ass.
Ouch!
Well, that just wasn’t smart. If you asked, I would have set you down.” Remus reached down for him.
Wes scooted back. “Don’t touch me!”
I’m not going to hurt you, Wesley. If I wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done it already?”
I don’t know, you’re a vampire, I don’t know what I’m supposed to think.”
So, you do know that I’m a vampire?”
That’s what you told me. Were you lying?”
No, I wasn’t lying, I am a vampire. I’m just surprised you’re taking it so well now, considering how you reacted earlier.”
Yeah, well, one can only handle so much craziness in one night, and I’d say the fire-breathing dragons and the ‘we’re on a different planet’ took up a lot of that.” Wes pointed up. “Not to mention the two moons. So right now, I’m up to believing just about anything. Besides, with some of the things I’ve seen you do…”
With furrowed eyebrows, Remus crouched down in front of him. “Wesley, I’m glad you believe me about being a vampire, now I need you to believe me when I say we’re not on a different planet. We’re on Pavarus, and always have been.”
No. I don’t care where you’re from, but I’m from Earth.” Wes frowned at him. “Stop looking at me like that.”
The man shook his head. “I refuse to believe Zane and his thinking you’re crazy. But I am beginning to think you’ve bumped your head or something, and maybe you’re confused. Let’s just get you to Gamden and they’ll be able to help you.”
What? No.” Wes didn’t feel comfortable being with a vampire, and would admit he was afraid—at least of the others—but for some reason the thought of leaving Remus and being left with strangers was worse. “I don’t want to go to Gamden.”
Remus sighed and stood back up. “You have to. I know of nowhere else to take you.”
Wes looked around, as if the trees would give him an answer. “I could go with you.”
No.”
Why not?” Wes stood up, trying pointlessly to dust his pants off.
Remus reached out and brushed his thumb across Wes’ cheek. “Because, there is no room for a human in my world.”
Please. I don’t want to be left at Gamden.” Wes knew his voice cracked but he couldn’t help it. Vampire or not, Remus was all he knew, and he wasn’t ashamed to beg. “Please.”
Moments passed as Remus just stared at him. Wes’ hope began to blossom, that whatever internal battle Remus had going on inside him…
Pavarus: Finding Home Series #1 is available today at Total-E-Bound!

Giveaway
Want more? Just leave a comment and you’ll be entered into a drawing to win an e-copy of Pavarus. The cut-off time to enter will be at midnight on Friday the 9th of November (US Central Time) and a winner will be randomly chosen. Please include your email address at the bottom of your comment to be eligible for the giveaway – if there’s no address I won’t know where to send the book ;)


Bio
I was born in Arizona, but have spent the better part of my life in Wisconsin. While I enjoy living close to my family, my heart longs to live in the South—or anywhere where the winters are warmer, and I hope to someday get there. I love writing, and try to dedicate as much of my free time to it (ha! what free time?). If I’m not typing away on my laptop, you’ll find me with my nose buried in a book, or with my loving boyfriend debating on what movie to watch and the never ending back and forth decision of what we should have for dinner. I love spending time with my family and boyfriend, cuddling with my two cats, and laughing as much as possible (cuz I like to think I’m funny J).
Some little tidbits about me are - I love horses and cats, I have a really big sweet-tooth, and I’ve been told I like to talk with my hands (insert hand gestures here).
My links


Monday, November 5, 2012

Angel Laird Vampire Wife


[Like vampires? Below, Suz de Mello is sharing a long excerpt from her new vampire book. Have fun! ~ Lisabet]

Blurb

Edgar, Laird MacReiver, had never regretted his decision to wed Isobel, daughter of Clan Kilburn’s laird…until she bit his tongue and drank his blood. Will tying her hands, spanking her rump and making her come tame the wild child of the infamous vampire clan?

Or are some women too dangerous to tame?


Kilburn Castle, Scotland
1766
Some said that Edgar, Laird MacReiver, had made a deal with the devil. And not just an ordinary deal, for he’d agreed to marry the devil’s daughter.
Lacking a superstitious cast of mind, he’d never regretted his decision to ally with Clan Kilburn until this moment. Atop the battlements, he disregarded the noontime sun glittering over the sea, the fresh spring breeze off the water and the white clouds scudding through the sky. Instead, he watched the scene below him.
Down in the castle courtyard, a young woman struggled with a horse. Not just any young woman. She’d been betrothed to him before her birth. And not just any horse. Isobel, now eighteen, grasped the bridle of Ranger, a buckskin stallion, the pride and joy of Edgar’s heart.
She wrestled with a reluctant Ranger before swinging long legs clad in trews over the steed’s back. Clinging to his mane, she somehow kept her seat while the stallion curvetted and spun. Her hat flew off and her braid loosened, the black hair whipping ‘round as Ranger sought to dislodge her.
Another neigh and a leap before the horse dashed out of the open gate. His hooves clattered on the drawbridge as he galloped over the moat. Isobel clung to his back like a flea unwilling to give up its perch on a dog.
“I ordered her not to ride Ranger,” Edgar said with some disbelief and more resentment. “He’s too big for her. And he’s young, not quite broken. The only rider he tolerates is me.”
“Our Isobel is a bold horsewoman.” Kieran Kilburn cocked a dark brow at Edgar. “She doesna like to admit that there’s a steed on this earth that she canna master.”
Though nearing his fiftieth year, the Kilburn chieftain hadn’t sprouted even one gray hair. No wrinkles marred his smooth, unusually white skin, save those that were the product of his constant smile. All the Kilburns shared the same traits: tall and strong, with midnight black hair and eyes. In comparison Edgar often had felt like a little white mouse, at least until he grew and the lassies started to take an interest in his fair hair and blue eyes. Then he’d realized that his different looks were an advantage.
An advantage, that is, with everyone but Isobel.
“She obeys you.” The wind loosened the leather thong tying Edgar’s hair at the nape. He tightened it. “Why not me?”
Kier’s eyes twinkled. “She obeys me, laddie, because I punish her when she does not.”
“May I borrow your Dash?” Frowning, Edgar turned to descend into the courtyard with Kieran following.
“Aye, but don’t count on Dash to catch his son.”
“We’ll do our best. Thank you, sir.” He handed his blue jacket to a guard and mounted the buckskin. “I go now to find my bride. I hope she’ll return suitably chastened.”
With a shrug, Kier folded his arms over his chest. “Ye ken what ye have to do.”
* * * * *
Edgar caught up with Isobel and Ranger in the forest. The horse now ambled rather than raced, the trees bordering the meadow surrounding the castle having slowed his flight. Edgar eased Dash into a walk and splashed through a brook while watching Ranger manage Isobel.
The stallion apparently decided that he no longer would tolerate even Isobel’s light weight and proceeded to use a low-hanging branch to scrape her off. She landed flat on her back with a grunt. Ranger headed toward the stream and the new green grass beside it, thank the gods, instead of trampling the silly wench under his hooves.
Her laughter could be heard even from several yards away. “La! What a ride! I’ll tame that mount yet.” She sat up and rubbed her back.
Still on horseback, Edgar towered over her. “The only mount who needs taming is you. No harm done, milady?” He was pleased that he kept a mild tone of voice, because inside he was seething.
“None.” She smiled up at him, her black eyes twinkling through the curtain of her lashes.
Bewitching, but he hardened his heart, determined that he’d not be led by the nose. He didn’t like managing females, and if he allowed her to rule him now, she’d rule him forever. “Whatever possessed you to steal Ranger?”
“I didn’t steal Ranger. I borrowed him.”
“Against my express wishes. If your clumsiness has harmed him, Isobel—”
“My clumsiness?” She leapt to her feet.
He gave her a long, cool stare before turning away. He chirruped to Ranger, who raised his head from the sweet grass by the stream. Still chewing, he walked sedately to Edgar.


He dismounted to caress his horse’s forehead before running his hands along the neck and body. Something hot and red billowed in Isobel’s chest. What was it? ‘Twas the same uncomfortable feeling she got when her younger brothers or sisters claimed too much of their parents’ attention. The same horrible emotion that overcame her when other lassies dared to flirt with Edgar…which happened more frequently than she liked.
Jealousy.
She was jealous of the attention Edgar was giving to a horse. A horse.
Bloody hell.
Removing his gloves, Edgar slid expert fingers up and down each of Ranger’s legs, paying particular attention to the delicate fetlocks.
She wondered how those long, tanned, strong fingers would feel if he touched her. When he finally touched her. So far he’d kept his distance even though they were affianced, a fact which she both liked and resented.
He straightened with a sigh. “No harm done. You were lucky this time, my girl.”
“Your girl? Since when am I your girl?”
He led the horse back to the stream and dropped the reins. Ranger drank placidly. Standing in the water with tail a’swish, he seemed completely unlike the wild beast she’d sought to tame. Dash joined him.
Edgar eyed the horses, then eyed her. “You’ve been mine since before you were born.”
“I mislike your manner, sir. I am yet unmarried. I belong to no man.”
“You belong to me.” He returned, looming over her, tall and blond and impossibly beautiful. The Angel Laird, the lassies called him. Well, they could have him.
“I willna be ordered. I willna be treated as though I’m a possession.”
He took her by the shoulders. “But you are.”
His mouth descended on hers while one hand seized the back of her head, holding her fast. She couldna resist, and didna want to, for she’d yearned for this moment.
*****

Angel Laird Vampire Wife is available from:






Bio: Best-selling, award-winning author Sue Swift, a.k.a Suz deMello, has written over fifteen novels, plus several short stories and non-fiction articles. She writes in numerous genres including romance, mystery, paranormal, historical, contemporary comedy and erotica. She’s a freelance editor who’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, Liquid Silver Books and Etopia Press. She also takes on private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in PW, Kirkus and Booklist, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists. A former trial attorney, she resides in northern California. Her passion is world travel, and she’s left the US over a dozen times, including stints working overseas for many months. Right now, she's working on her next manuscript and planning her next trip.

Her blog is at http://www.fearlessfastpacedfiction.com. Find her reading picks @ReadThis4fun on Twitter, and befriend her on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/SueSwift ). Her sites are at http://www.sue-swift.com and http://www.suzdemello.com.


Sunday, November 4, 2012

Sunday Snog: Nasty Business

I spent a very long day today, re-editing my 2003 novel Ruby's Rules. I've regained the rights and I'm planning to bring out a new and improved version (hey - even my writing has improved over the past decade!) under the more appropriate title Nasty Business.  I hope that in the hands of Books We Love, this sizzling novel of power games and nasty passion will finally get the attention it deserves!

Anyway, one thing I noticed is that the book includes lots of kisses. So I thought I'd share one with you today.

After you enjoy my snippet, head over to Snog Central, hosted by the marvelous Victoria Blisse, for lots more lip-to-lip action from your favorite authors.



I roll the chair back from the desk and cross one leg over the other, gracefully, deliberately. My skirt rides up, exposing a substantial length of thigh. He notices. I can see his shoulders tighten, and there’s a stirring in the crotch of his trousers. 
 
Despite my clouded mood, a spark of triumph shimmers through me, and then, in its wake, the inevitable frisson of arousal. My suddenly damp knickers cling to my flesh. Surreptitiously I tighten my quadriceps and relish the way the contraction compresses my hidden clit. Subtle pleasure ripples through me. 
 
As though he senses my body awakening, he straightens, raises his chin a bit, sniffs the air like a dog. Like the sniveling, mangy mongrel that he is. I’ll bloody well bring him to heel. I will, I swear it.

Rick,” I bark, and he jumps visibly. “Come over here.” He complies, coming to stand next to the guest chair across the desk from me. He moves to seat himself, but I stop him. “I didn’t tell you to sit, did I?” He looks at me, amazed, annoyed, and obviously increasingly excited. He shakes his head. “Then don’t.”

You’re a scoundrel, Rick. A scoundrel and a traitor. Why didn’t you tell me that you knew my father? That you had him convinced you were his friend?”

I was his friend,” Rick begins. I cut him short with a baleful glare.

Some friend! Friends don’t take advantage of each other. Friends don’t lie to each other. Friends keep each other’s confidences.”

What are you talking about?” He sounds confused and defensive.

The foundry, of course. It was my father who brought it to your attention, showed you its potential. He intended to acquire it for The Maxwell Companies. Then you turn around and stab him in the back by stealing the deal away from him.”

How...?”

Never mind. I should have realized a lot sooner that you had inside information, and put two and two together.”

Liu and I planned to go into business together. The foundry was going to be a joint project.”

Oh? Why should I believe you?”

Because it’s true. I can show you the preliminary documents, if you want. Then came the accident, and everything got put on hold. The next thing that I know, you’re talking to Baktar and I’m completely out of the picture. I guess I was pissed off to find myself being ignored. I decided that I needed the fab for myself.”

Why didn’t my father tell me that he had a partner in the deal? He never even mentioned you.”

Rick gives me a harried look. “I don’t know, Ruby. He talked a lot about you. He planned to send you to Malaysia to do a final inspection of the plant. He wanted me to join you there, to give you a technical briefing.” This, at least, was confirmed by the email I had read. “Maybe he wanted you to form your own conclusions about me. Maybe he thought you’d be jealous, if you knew that he was mentoring me.” A ghost of a grin flits across his irregular features. “He did say that you were hot-blooded, and had a fierce temper...”

Did he indeed?” I say ironically, trying to keep the misery out of my voice. I’d thought that I knew my father so well, that I was privy to all his secrets. The revelation that he kept things from me, that he had other confidants, is painful. I lean forward, deliberately allowing Martell a glimpse of my cleavage, and look him in the eye. He licks his lips nervously. “So, was he right about me, Rick?”

I don’t know, Ruby,” he replies softly. “I don’t know you well enough to say.” He pauses, raises his eyes to mine. “But I’d like to.”

I can’t comprehend how it happens. One moment he is standing there across from me, with the desk safely between us. The next, he’s beside me, pulling me to my feet. Kissing me. His wiry arms snake around me, pulling me to his chest. His lips are firm on mine, exploring rather than demanding. His scent swirls around me, dizzying me. The embers smoldering in my sex leap into flame.

Rick...” I begin, but the taste and texture and presence of him overwhelm me. My objection melts into an inarticulate murmur of pleasure.

He kisses with his whole body. His hands are everywhere, stroking my arse, teasing my nipples. His knee finds its way into my crotch and sets up a rhythmic pressure that soon has me swollen and dripping. He is swollen, too. Brazenly, he rubs his rigid cock against my thigh, as he plunges his tongue more deeply into my mouth.

Ruby,” he murmurs, alternating words with nibbles and licks. “I want you so badly. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

I don’t reply. This is hardly news to me, but confidence and lust surge together in me, to hear him admit it. I reach down and give his balls a moderately vicious squeeze. He moans and grinds himself harder against me.

I need to break this embrace in order to gain the upper hand. I need to take advantage of his moment of weakness. But his carnal attentions are intoxicating. It’s difficult for me to break away. I’m like an alcoholic, wanting just one more drink, one more kiss, one more of his lewd caresses.

It might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I finally manage to gather my strength and push him away. He doesn’t resist, just stands there looking at me. His clothes are wrinkled. One shirt tail is hanging out of his pants. His longish hair is tangled around his ears. In objective terms, he looks a bit pathetic. Certainly not what one would call sexy.

Yet my heart is slamming away like a jackhammer in my chest. I’m panting as though I’ve just done fifty sit ups, and damp – all over. His cherry pipe tobacco flavor lingers in my mouth. The echoes of his questing hands linger on my skin. The lack of his touch is a physical ache. I need those hands, those lips, that brash cock, need the relief that it seems only he can provide.

Be strong. Be ice. “What would you do?” I hold his eyes. “What would you give, to have me? Would you give up the foundry if I gave my body to you?”

I could swear that something like shame clouds his features briefly, then his eyes flash. “You can have the damned foundry, Ruby. I won’t stand in your way. I won’t fight you anymore. Regardless.” Before I can stop him, he reaches out his hand and strokes my cheek. “In any case, Ruby, I want more than just your body.”

His voice is barely audible, but something leaps up inside me in answer. Excitement, fear, anger? I’m not sure what it is. I only know that it races through my body and turns me to liquid weakness. It’s a long moment before I can frame a scornful reply.

What do you want, American devil? My soul?”

Saturday, November 3, 2012

The Tough Girl's Guide to Handling Rejection

By Tenille Brown (Guest Blogger)

I’m harder than a man on Viagra, or so I’ve been told.

The words first came from my husband when he noticed I was virtually emotionless during a heated argument.  I might have shrugged or narrowed my eyes, but I’m fairly certain I didn’t raise my voice or do any other thing that might get my heart rate up.  I’m getting older and I’d like to save my flutters for my children’s teenage years, thank you very much.

And I absolutely, for sure, did not cry.

The first time I was broken up with by a boy, over the phone, the week after senior prom, my eyes were dry.  I hung up the phone without much of a response, went to bed and showed up to school the next day like nothing was wrong.

After all, in my eyes, nothing was.

We hadn’t dated long and he had been honest and straight forward enough to give me his reasons for wanting it to be over.  I respected and accepted it and moved on.

Little did I know I would end up applying the same strategy to my writing.

My first rejection was fairly easy, I must say.  It had made it in the original manuscript, but was cut at the publishers’ which should have been devastating, but the editor was so helpful and had so many suggestions on my story and my direction, I felt like I should have thanked her for rejecting me.

When subsequent rejections didn’t go exactly that way, it occurred to me and quickly, that there wouldn’t always be someone there to pad my fall.  So, I did what I knew to do.  Reverting to old, comfortable habits, I began pushing my arms out in order to brace myself when or if I tripped.

I tell myself three basic things:

Don’t Get Too Attached

I write shorts – short fiction, erotica, and essays.  I like to get in and get out, not drawing any plot or idea out more than necessary.  That way I haven’t lain with my characters or my plot long enough to form any emotional ties.  That would be risky.  That might make me soft.

If I allowed myself to soften and get sentimental over every piece, and one of my darlings was cast aside, I’d be down to nothing by now.  The buzzards would be feasting on my poor, pathetic carcass.

That’s not to say that I’m made of steel.  I’ve been disappointed at missed opportunities and tortured by questions of what I could have done to make a piece work.  However, I can’t allow it to affect the way I work going forward.  What if, going forward, I start to change this about my writing and that was really the problem to begin with?

Set It…And Forget It

When I’m writing, I just do it. If a certain call interests, me, I attempt to write something for it.  Most times, it makes it to the submissions stage, sometimes it doesn’t get finished.  I just know that emotionally, I can’t afford to worry about it either way.

I like to love the story for what it is and leave it alone, giving myself the space to be able to not fret while it’s in waiting stage.

Once it’s left my mind, my fingertips, and furthermore made it into the editor’s inbox, it’s out of my hands, literally and figuratively.

It Is What It Is

I don’t expect or ask for feedback after a rejection.  I’ve learned to accept that just because it’s not someone’s cup of tea doesn’t necessarily mean it’s bad tea.

I believe I’m a decent writer, but I don’t always knock it out of the park, nor do expect every ball to be a home run.  Hell, sometimes I don’t even make it off the bench.  I just know that I only have five to ten minutes to spend thinking about a rejection, otherwise I’m in danger of obsession – I know me.  Besides, ten minutes is plenty long enough to log the rejected submission in my rejected file and remind myself to look for appropriate places to resubmit the piece later.

Yes, there might be some denial and delusion mixed in here somewhere with all my tough girl talk, and maybe I haven’t wagered enough, or fallen hard enough, but right now, this is what works for me.

It might not be a habit many could adapt to or get on board with, but just like those rejected pieces, I realize, everything ain’t for everybody.

Does it sound like I’ve been hurt before and I’m willing to do anything to keep it from happening again?  Maybe you’re right, but I can bet you one thing, my stubborn ass will never tell.

Bio: Tenille Brown’s smut is featured online and in nearly fifty print anthologies including Chocolate Flava, 1 and 3, Curvy Girls, Going Down, Best Bondage Erotica, 2011 and 2012, Sapphic Planet, Suite Encounters, Open, and Best Lesbian Erotica 2013.  The southern wife and mother writes for Mischief Books, blogs at http://therealtenille.com and tweets @TheRealTenille.

Here are some links to pictures for recent books I'm featured in:
http://www.mischiefbooks.com/uploads/books/Take_Me_1.125x175.jpg
http://www.mischiefbooks.com/uploads/books/Cougar_1.125x175.jpg
http://ecx.images-amazon.com/ima

Friday, November 2, 2012

Zombies and the Art of the Erotic

By Erzabet Bishop (Guest Blogger)

I used to hate zombies. Really. Night of the Living Dead gave me more nightmares than any other movie I have ever seen. (Except for The Last House on the Left. But that is a whole other ball of wax.) The sequels had me shuddering and changing the channel. Now I can’t get enough of them. Crazy, right? I agree. If there is a new episode of Walking Dead or a rerun of Shaun of the Dead or Zombieland, I am so there with the DVR, setting that thing to tape so I can watch it while hubby is at work. Confirmed zombie hater that he is, that suits him just fine.

The problem with most zombie movies is that they are written for men. And let’s face it, there aren’t any great erotic zombie movies out there. The closest I have found was a particularly interesting scene in Fido when a zombie owner tethers his pet zombie pinup girl and has a wild night with her. It must have been hard to get around those snapping jaws for a night of blazing sex.

In Coming Together: Hungry For Love, I took my love of horror and blended it with my enjoyment of erotica. In my story, “Dark Hunger” you have a girl who is going on a first date and things take a turn for the dark and erotic when he pulls in to an old cemetery on the outskirts of town. Hot, heavy and with a surprise twist ending, this story was a lot of fun to write.

Coming Together: Hungry for Love is a collection of zombie-themed erotic fiction edited by the fabulous Sommer Marsden. Sales proceeds benefit the American Diabetes Association.

TABLE OF CONTENTS: Little Deaths (Cora Zane); My Name is Brighton (Alana Noel Voth); Dead in the Water (Lynn Townsend); Head Full of Zombie (Alison Tyler); Zombie Apocalypse: First Responder (Kissa Starling); You Look Better Dead (Jeffrey L. Shipley); Zombie Goddess (Sadey Quinn); Dark Hunger (Erzabet Bishop); Love Never Dies (t'Sade); Meat (Bobby Diabolus); Annie Morgan (Armand Rosamilia); Queer Zombie Disco (Kirsty Logan); The Tenderest Meat (Elise Hepner); Last Man on Earth (Blacksilk); Zombie Factory (Kiki Howell); Screen Siren (Annabeth Leong); You Make a Dead Man Come ( Sommer Marsden)



Buy Links:

CreateSpace (print)
Amazon (print)

Dark Hunger Excerpt

"I missed you." His voice was breathy as he pulled her tighter against him. His hand reached around to the front of her body and wandered down her thigh and underneath her skirt. Skimming the outside of her moistened panties, his hand traced her mound and she gave an involuntary shudder as he ever so lightly edged beneath the delicate fabric and slid a finger into her seeping folds.

"Trevor!" She gasped in sweet agony. Arching her back, she molded her body against him. He slowly moved his finger within her sopping cunt, creating a tension inside of her that bordered on insanity as his thumb rubbed over her clit. She struggled against the confines of her panties and wanted the offending article off. Now.

Tearing the flimsy scrap of fabric from her body, he grabbed her hips with both hands grinding her ass right into the hardness of his cock. She let loose a strangled moan and ground backwards against him. Sliding her skirt down and off, she spread her legs wider, completely naked and exposed.

***

When I interview authors on my blog, I often ask them a series of questions. Now it’s my turn to answer a few. 
 
*When did you start writing erotica?

That is an interesting answer. I had dabbled a bit, but it wasn’t until I read the famed or infamous depending on your viewpoint, 50 Shades that I decided it was time to take pen to paper so to speak. I created a blog for reviewing more of the genre I was growing to love and decided after reading about ERWA and checking out their amazing submission lists, that I would try to write a few.

*What is the hardest/most awkward scene you ever wrote?

You would think it would be the sex, right? Nope. It was the fight scene in Hungry for Love. I read tons of erotica. If you want to write, first be a reader. Fight scenes are usually not in my choices of literature but I also remembered an author I interviewed for one of my blogs who said she used stuffed animals to imitate body movement and battle strategy. Guess who used her stuffed pig and detachable head zombie doll for roll playing? *raises hand*

*Pepperoni pizza or sushi?

Pizza. You would never get sushi past my lips. Ever.

*Chocolate or ice cream?

Can’t I have both?

*Favorite type of erotica?

BDSM, f/f, m/f, horror and paranormal

*Favorite character type?

I love strong women who can stand up for what they want and not be a doormat. At the same time, it takes great strength to put your trust in a Dom/Domme and be a submissive. The art of BDSM erotica fascinates me with the power dynamics and I am longing to explore more. My December release in the Milk, Cookies and Handcuffs anthology by Storm Moon Press has an incubus with a particular fetish for Christmas  ornaments, kink and a young woman he meets at a bookstore. 
 
About the author:

Erzabet Bishop has been in love with books since she could sound out the oddities of Dr. Seuss. Inspired by the life size cutouts of Dracula and his bride that adorned the wall of her bedroom as a teenager, she has been reading and writing fiendishly ever since. She is a writer of erotica and has never been happier since she discovered that naughty stories really are more fun. Under her real name, she reviews music, is an aspiring YA and horror author, blogs about books and can be found crocheting and watching monster movies with her husband or chasing around one of her furry children and insisting loudly that they behave. They don’t listen.

Check out her erotica reviews at http://erzabetsenchantments.blogspot.com/.
Follow her on twitter @erzabetbishop

Erzabet's favorite zombie movie is Shaun of the Dead but Zombieland and Fido come in pretty close as second and third. Bring on the Twinkies.