Wicked Wednesday Reads: Release Me
It’s time once again to help you over your Hump Day and spice up your week with a tasty Romance on the Go entry from Evernight Publishing. This week, Iyana Jenna’s Release Me finds unexpected love on the waves — and with love, comes danger. Check out the excerpt below for a teaser!
Thank you so much, Nicola, for the chance to visit your blog. I’m so excited that my first ever Romance on the Go book will come out on June 28 from Evernight Publishing.
Taking a break from dealing with his father’s clients on legal matters, Nicholas Haynes went out to the sea on his yacht—only to find a man floating in the water. The man was still alive, much to Nicholas’s relief.
Gregory Phillip was a private investigator and his last job almost turned him into fish food if not for Nicholas. Little did he know that the main suspect in his case was one of Nicholas’ father’s clients. When Nicholas insisted on taking care of Gregory after the incident that almost killed him, can he trust Nicholas enough with his life?
Story Excerpt
Stanley Haynes threw the newspaper, and it landed with a slap on Nicholas’s plate. The headlines blared at Nicholas as though his father had shouted at him.
Heir to US Banking Chain Wedded?
“You ever plan to tell us about this, Nicholas?”
Nicholas glanced briefly at his mother sitting across from him, but she kept stirring the cooling coffee in her cup. Nicholas could see a smile flicker in her eyes. He shrugged.
“Come on, Dad. You know it was impossible for me to talk about it before everything was done.”
“Are you saying you don’t trust me, or your mom—” Stanley threw a glance at his wife, and his eyes widened. “You knew about this?”
She threw her hands up.
“God, no, honey. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“All right, all right.” Stanley took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Is it that Phillips guy?”
“Of course. Who else?” Nicholas grinned.
His mother went back to stirring her coffee. Her voice was calm when she asked, “When was it, Nicholas? How come both of us didn’t know anything about it?”
“A moment after Greg was released from the hospital.”
“Wow. That fast?”
Nicholas chuckled. “Yeah. Now you can’t accuse me of being a playboy anymore.”
“That’s good, dear.” His mother took his hand, and Nicholas squeezed hers gently. “So those journalists—they just found out the other day?”
“They’ve just seen this ring, that’s all.” Nicholas lifted his left hand and eyed the simple platinum band around his ring finger. Gregory had exactly the same kind of ring around his finger.
****
A month earlier
It was the lulling sounds of the waves and the gentle breeze above the vast, boundless ocean that Nicholas loved most. He could spend days, even weeks, drifting seemingly without any course and purpose on his boat, all by himself. After months dealing with his father’s clients about legal matters, he was always desperate for some time alone. Sometimes he just couldn’t understand why he had to work twice as hard as the other employees in his father’s bank when he was his only son. However, most of the time, he just couldn’t see it any other way. His father was not the type to want to spoil his family. Everyone had to earn what life had given to them. Nobody was allowed to simply ask and receive.
Today, though, he ended up not alone.
Where to Buy
About Iyana Jenna
Iyana lives in Jakarta, a city famous for its traffic jams, a lot of cars and motorcycles, and people selling stuff on the roads. You can spend two hours on the road going to a place you can reach in half an hour in a normal situation. Thanks to the traffic jams, though, Iyana can come up with a lot of stories, mostly shorties, as she prefers to spend the time during her trips writing into her cell phone rather than sleeping.
Iyana loves kitties. Right now she has five of them. Their names are Larva, Nyil, Cil, Mermood, and Horus. When she doesn’t write, she plays with them, or they would play with her when she writes.
Iyana laughs teaching. She teaches English and her students range from elementary school kids to college students to employees. She enjoys working with them all. Teaching is so much fun for her.
Where to Find Iyana Jenna
Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: London Saint James
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to London Saint James, whose second volume of deliciously sexy tales is now available in Dark Tales Diaries: Volume 2 from Evernight Publishing. Make sure you check out Dark Tales Diaries: Volume One as well!
Blackthorn Printing made a splash in the publishing world with the introduction of Dark Tales Diaries, yet despite his efforts, Tristan Blackthorn isn’t any closer to finding the woman he seeks. Unwilling to give up on his lost love, his search for Keira continues in Volume Two.
A voyeuristic moment leads an astronomy professor and his assistant to a steamy endeavor on The Observation Deck.
An invitation for cocktails has the reclusive woman who lives in 204-B pondering why the handsome, wealthy owner of her building would invite her to anything. Does she have enough guts to go to The Top Floor?
And a Maestro strikes the right cord with a young and talented cellist who is trying to find her passion.
Story Excerpt
“Come on, Tristan,” Keira said, giggling playfully as she shut her diary.
“What new story have you added? One of love? Intrigue? A tale of the forbidden?” I inquired while eyeing the leather bound book.
Keira laid it aside, and rose to her feet. “I’ll read them to you, someday.”
She slipped out of her white cotton dress, leaving her sandals in the wake of snow-colored material at my feet. I leaned my back against the trunk of the tree, pretending to rest, but in truth, rest was the furthest thing from my mind.
Keira twirled on the ball of her foot, more graceful than any dancer.
“Do that again,” I said.
The sun broke through the leaves on the trees, and set her long raven tresses into brilliant highlights that shimmered in deepened shades of blue-black. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She alone encapsulated perfection, with her small, pert breasts slightly covered by her long hair, and when she moved, the gumdrop point of a pale-pink nipple peeked through some of the strands. She raised her arms above her head, giving me a full view of her extended frame, and did something of a provocative pirouette before turning to face the pond.
Her slender waist gave way to rounded hips that swayed seductively as she tiptoed, nude, toward the edge of the water. She stuck one toe in, and looked at me over her slender shoulder. Her jewel-green eyes penetrated my soul.
Keira twisted her long hair up, and used the dark pieces that fell from her fingers to weave her tresses into a tied-off knot, freeing the canvas of her back. The dappled shade that fell from one of the overhanging branches caressed the curve of her spine like a long lost lover, and in that instant I wanted to kiss the dimples above her heart-shaped ass. The thought stirred up something much more primal.
“Are you coming?” she asked.
When Keira licked the plumpness of her lips, my cock ached for her.
“Definitely,” I said, and stood from my shaded spot under the oak, toeing off my shoes in a hurry, before ridding myself of my shirt and pants.
Once free of my clothing, I bounded toward her. She grinned and jumped before my hand made contact with her arm. I wasted no time, and followed in behind her. Our heads popped to the surface in unison, with her joyous laughter filling the air.
“I bet you can’t catch me,” she taunted in a cutesy voice before diving beneath the murky pool.
I studied the trail of bubbles and waves she made, guessing where she might come up, then made my way onto the grassy bank, crossed over the plank bridge, and hopped into the water off the south bank. When she resurfaced, I snatched her up.
“Got you,” I said, and placed a kiss to her lips.
She wiggled. Her moist mouth left mine. “No fair, Tristan. You were supposed to swim and catch me, not cheat, and wait until I ran out of air.”
“You never outlined the rules. And besides, I play to win.”
Keira, shook her head. Water rolled along her nose, over her parted lips, and down her chin before the wandering drop found its home in the pond.
“I know you do,” she said, rubbing her nose against mine. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”
“What else do you love about me?”
“I’m not telling.”
I placed my lips to her tempting neck, traced a line with the tip of my nose to the end of her ear, and sucked her lobe into my mouth. “What if I persuade you to tell me?”
She moaned my name, and draped her arms around my neck. “Don’t stop doing that, and I might be persuaded.”
Keira wrapped her long legs around my waist. The head of my hard cock slipped between our two intertwined bodies. She pressed herself against me, tighter. Warmth worked its way through my essence as I slid my manhood in-between her parted lower lips. I wanted to explore all of her with my hands, my dick, and my mouth. One hand remained on the back of her slim neck while the other left her lower back to discover the wonder of her ass. Flames, not water lapped at my skin with a desire beyond words.
Where To Buy
About London Saint James
London wrote her first short story in the second grade. Her teacher informed her parents London had a big imagination, but having a big imagination wasn’t necessarily a good thing as far as he was concerned. Without watering that seed of imagination, London placed her vivid characters, her childhood stories, along with her imagination on the shelf, where they would wither for a while. At the urging of her eighth grade English teacher, London pulled her imagination off that shelf, and wrote her second short story. To no surprise, it was a love story inspired by a song. Then as life does, it moves on, so yet again London placed her imagination on the shelf to wither for a while. She needed to do the “sensible thing.”
The sensible thing earned London a degree in Psychology, but while in college she traversed into writing once more, and was encouraged by a couple of professors to pursue that endeavor. She took on the world of written word, and has never looked back.
London writes erotic romance from sweet to downright naughty. She is an author for Evernight Publishing, a member of the Romance Writers of America, and a member of Passionate Ink.
Where to find London Saint James
Why are there no good slang terms for vagina?
One of the fun things about being an erotic romance writer is that you get to write smoldering, pyroclastic sex scenes (if you don’t enjoy writing sex scenes, you probably shouldn’t be writing erotic romance, but that’s a post for another day). And if you lean towards the hotter end of the scale, as I do, you tend to get very descriptive during your smoldering, pyroclastic sex scenes, which means you find yourself using popular slang terms for body parts such as penis, vagina, clitoris, and anus. This is because very few people gets turned on by, “He thrust his penis into her vagina, stimulating her clitoris while she returned the favor by fingering his anus.” (If you do get turned on by this, you might want to check out medical fetish erotica, just a suggestion.)
Luckily, there are a plethora of good slang terms for penis. “Cock” is one of my favorites — it’s hard, punchy, and practically onomatopoeic in its descriptiveness of the male reproductive organ, particularly in an erect state. “Dick” and “prick” are also excellent slang terms for much the same reason. “Balls” are very descriptive of the male gonads, and “sack” an appropriate slang term for the scrotum. All well and good.
But then we turn our questioning gaze to the female reproductive anatomy, and find that acceptable (as in “don’t make you wince”) slang terms for that body part are, well, rather thin on the ground. And in case you think I’m just being picky, it’s not just me who feels this way. Tiffany Reisz, creator of dominatrix extraordinaire Nora Sutherlin and the white-hot Original Sinners series, rarely refers to a character’s vagina in any of her works. When I asked her why, she said the commonly used slang terms for vagina tend to make her cringe.
And she has a most salient point. Let’s look at some of the classic slang terms for the hoo-hoo, shall we? There’s the old standard “pussy,” which frankly sounds ootsy-cue and painfully twee (do we call a penis a bow-wow? I think not). “Cunt” is a perfectly good Anglo-Saxon term, but to me it sounds way too harsh for something that’s supposed to be soft and warm. “Slit” — actually not all that accurate, as the vagina takes on a barrel shape during sexual arousal, plus there’s also the unpleasant connotations of slitting something open. More recent entrants to the fray include “punany/punani,” which is sometimes attributed to Caribbean patois and may derive from pudenda, a Latin synonym for genitalia from pudēre, meaning “to cause shame”, or from “poontang,” which is believed to derive from the French putain, meaning ‘whore.” Great. More power to the Punany Poets for trying to take back this word, but it’s always going to come off as dodgy to me.
As for meaningless circumlocutions such as “sex,” “core,” and “center” — no. Just no. At lunch today, my friend Theresa opined that “core” sounded like something explosive that needed to be defused. I immediately came up with an image of Jack Bauer sitting in the OBGYN chair, staring intently between a panicking woman’s thighs as he hefts a pair of wire cutters, muttering “Trust me, I’m a professional.” Which might do something for you if, like Theresa, you are a fan of Keifer Sutherland, but for me it just makes me want to slam my thighs shut and wrap stout chain and a padlock around them for safekeeping.
Oddly enough, I don’t have a problem with “clit.” It’s short and sweet, much like the organ it describes, and works well as a slang term. Now we just have to come up with a decent term for what lies beneath this wonderful nubbin of happiness.
So far, the only vaginal slang term I personally like is “quim” (thank you, Joss Whedon, for bringing it back into modern consciousness). Quim has that nice onomatopoeic ring — it sounds warm, soft and enveloping. Granted, Loki used it as a female-specific insult in The Avengers, but if Whedon had been slightly less stylish the word “cunt” could have been substituted and maintained the same context (at least for American audiences — apparently cunt is not a female-specific insult in England. The more you know…). Unfortunately, “quim” hasn’t been used as common slang since the Victorian era, which explains why the phrase “what is a mewling quim” shows up as a popular search on Google.
But what the hell, it’s the best of a bad lot, so I’m going to start using it in my own work. Maybe if enough erotic romance writers like the term, it’ll regain its old popularity. And if not, at least I’ll sound hella period when I finally start that MMF Victorian paranormal.
Fabulous Friday Reads: Her Type of Guy
We’re kicking off this weekend with a real treat! What happens when a group of authors get online and start chatting about potential stories? Well, in this instance a collection of 10 naughty short stories is born! Her Type of Guy is available from Evernight Publishing and other retailers of fine erotic romance, and promises to be one scorcher of an anthology.
For every desire, there’s a man to meet it. Someone’s annoyance is another’s kink. In this naughty collection of short stories, indulge your fantasies, and follow our heroines as they find just the right type of guy or guys…
From bouncing cocks to virgins, slow coaches, true Scotsmen, and messy play partners, sex toy experts and their mischievous friends, these guys are in need of their ladies. Why is one guy too grumpy to believe, another always too early? And can there ever be a future with a hired killer?
Only one way to find out. You might just meet your ideal guy.
Story Excerpts
From “Snail’s Pace” by Michaela Rhua:
The deep timbre of his voice made her heart clench. She would miss the reassuring sound of his voice. Then she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, gently patting her. Looking up at his angular face, she did something she had longed to do. She reached out and stroked his beard. It felt bristly yet soft to touch. Then she dropped her hand.
From “Only When Allowed” by Michaela Rhua:
He closed his eyes and felt at ease. This was not what he was used to. Women expected him to take control and lead the way, which he did with ease. This time he was quite enjoying doing as he was told. The bed dipped next to him and he looked forward to what she had planned next.
“Keep your eyes closed. Do exactly as I say. I’ll take care of everything,” she said.
One fingernail scraped up and down his cock, the feeling caused it to thicken all the more.
Where to Buy
About Doris O’Connor
Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris… at least that’s what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not. She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
About Raven McAllan
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books. A lover of reading, she appreciates the history inside a book, and the chance to peek into the lives of those from years ago. Raven admits that she enjoys the research for her books almost as much as the writing; so much so, that sometimes she realizes she’s strayed way past the information she needs to know, and not a paragraph has been added to her WIP.
About Michaela Rhua
Michaela Rhua always dreamed of writing but this never happened until she met the lovely group of ladies known as UCW. Their passion for writing and encouragement inspired her to see if she could do it too. Now she is multi published and loves writing! She has teenage children and a husband, who also keep her busy. However, it is whilst travelling into work that she has time to create her characters and imagine other places in which they exist as her world skims by the window. Conversations overheard often lead to the birth of new ideas that she scribbles down in her trusty notebook.
About Ella Grey
Ella Grey is a jack of all trades and has been published in multiple genres. With her first story published nearly two years ago, she’s written short stories and novellas and shows no signs of stopping. Ella’s always loved reading and inspired by Christopher Pike, wrote her first story at the age of fifteen. Now a decade later she’s creating Paranormal and Steampunk worlds. She lives in a tiny house in the UK, with her other half, their son and their cat. She leads a hectic life but disappears into the worlds she’s created as soon as she puts the monster to bed.
About Morgan King
When reading other Author Bios I often identify with what has been said, so yes, it is all true for me, too: writing and being published has been a lifelong dream (seriously it has, but I’ve been busy doing lots of other stuff especially reading). I also have a day job (helping to create positive change is really important to me so as well as getting involved in lots of community projects I work in Charity Management), I live somewhere beautiful, although not in the US but in the East of England, steeped in inspiring countryside and history, when I’m not at work I’m often being a princess, pirate, monster or whatever takes my four year old’s fancy, and most importantly I would love to hear from you. This is the first story I’ve shared, so if you contact me I’ll probably do a little dance and will certainly smile inside for at least a week before replying.
Beautiful Yet Cruel: Reasons To Make Your Villains Attractive
Originally written as a guest post for Buffy’s Ramblings.
So I was cleaning my pool the other day and thinking of Mads Mikkelsen, as you do. Tall, Dark and Danish was on my mind because I’d just read a rather cogent post on Tumblr about fans who were gushing over the newest incarnation of Hannibal Lecter in a big way and kind of forgetting that, you know, Dr. Lecter kills people. And eats them. And serves them to other unsuspecting diners. And zestfully screws with Will Graham’s mind and health as a hobby. And is what we in the writing dodge like to call a Really Bad Guy.
The original poster was rather concerned that a lot of fans seem to be thinking with their ovaries and not their heads, as they are insisting that Dr. Lecter had Reasons™ for doing all those bad things, and that he’s just this mixed-up, misunderstood guy, instead of a vicious, psychopathic, cannibalistic monster. Whereas I agree with the original poster — Hannibal Lecter IS a vicious, psychopathic, cannibalistic monster. And the only reason why these fans aren’t recoiling from their widescreens in horror is that he is currently played by a very hot Danish actor who wears beautiful clothes, has perfect hair (when it’s not perfectly mussed), an insanely masculine bone structure, a lovely growly accent, just the right amount of chest hair, and is so damned graceful it’s not even funny–
Ahem. Sorry, needed to cool off for a minute there. Anyway, back to my topic, which makes me cackle with glee as a writer. These fans are looking at a complete and utter whackjob of a character, and even though they know full well he’s a whackjob, they become utterly infatuated with him because he’s attractive. I mean, really, the mental gymnastics necessary to resolve Dr. Lecter’s gruesome culinary habits with the deeply seated wish to see him naked must be absolutely astounding.
And damn, that’s clever. That is just so clever. Why is that clever? Because it means these fans tend to give Hannibal the benefit of a doubt about his actions even though they know better. And that allows the series writers to completely mess with their heads when Hannibal fillets another rude phlebotomist or serves up Kidney ala Dental Assistant to Jack Crawford and the gang.
Which is fantastic if you think about it, and kudos to Bryan Fuller, Mads and the Hannibal team for pulling it off. Because creating a really good (and by good I mean captivating) villain is damned difficult, even harder to do than creating a good hero. After all, the hero has it easy — he’s the hero, the personification of everything that is right and good, and usually the default stand-in for the reader. Assuming that a story is well written, readers are predisposed to like and care for the hero.
But the villain, ah, that’s where you get into murkier and more challenging creative waters. Make your bad guy too much of a monster, and nobody gives a rat’s ass for his motivations — they just want him dead. Make your evil queen too simplistic, and people don’t care about her plans to roast her stepdaughter over a slow fire and snack on her heart — she comes off as a cartoon character. Writers need to walk a fine line, giving the villain enough emotional hooks so that the reader comes to care about him whether they like it or not. Granted, the only thing the reader may care about is seeing the baddie on a gibbet, but they still care.
And a very interesting way of generating that level of care is by utilizing the human fascination with physical beauty. As a species we’re hardwired to like and follow people we find attractive, even though they may be utter scum on the inside; CEOs, politicians, and high school mean girl cliques are real-life examples of how this works. And since we do tend to sympathize with attractive people, that adds a tasty little psychological twist when an attractive character takes out a room full of Starfleet brass, or blows up a hospital, or turns a human being into cold cuts. Sometimes, we even justify the villain’s behavior simply on the basis that he or she is pretty, and, well, pretty = good so there must be a really important reason for why they did what they did, right? Right?
Talk about a powerful writing tool. Making your bad guy appealing is a simple but incredibly effective way to captivate your readers, sucking them into the damaged amusement park full of red delights that is your villain’s psyche and spitting them out, blinking and stunned, at the end of the story. Think of Patrick Bateman, the White Witch, Mrs. Coulter, Tom Ripley, the Marquise de Merteuil, Randall Flagg, and the sexiest baddie of all, Dracula. Think of how skillfully they used their own attractiveness to entice both their victims and the reader at the same time. Would they have had the same impact if they had acne or male pattern baldness or a bad dress sense? I don’t think so. They know what they have, and they work it like a Las Vegas showgirl to get what they want.
Of course, they are villains. And we’ll cheer for the hero to come out on top at the end because hey, that’s what we’re supposed to do. We’re civilized creatures, after all (and for those of us who aren’t, we can fake it beautifully). But still, there’s that perverse little urge that battles logic and makes people feel just a bit wistful when some seductive devil works their evil magic, even if it means the walls are dripping red afterwards. So the next time you need to come up with a villain, think about what could make him or her attractive to your readers, then use it ruthlessly. If you can lure your readers so far over to the dark side that they start sympathizing with the devil, you’ve done your job as a writer.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, my pool is clean and I have a couple of Hannibal episodes on the DVD to enjoy. Bon appétit.
Getting a little loud there, Nic
I once read an interview with the delightful and talented Jeffrey Combs (horror fans will know him from Reanimator and other Stuart Gordon films; SF fans will know him from Star Trek:DS9, Voyager, and Enterprise. I may also have a small crush on him, never mind, moving along) where he talked about preparing for his one-man play Nevermore, which is an imagined lecture/performance by Edgar Allan Poe. The play includes a great deal of Poe’s poetry, and apparently Jeff spent a lot of time walking around his neighborhood quietly reciting to himself in order to memorize all that verse. He joked that his neighbors probably saw him wandering around talking to himself and thought he’d gone nuts.
I mention this because actors aren’t the only people who talk to themselves a lot. Writers do this, too, only we come up with dialogue as we’re walking/driving/making dinner/whatever. Or in my case, cleaning the pool. See, we’ve been having problems with the little algae eater that connects to a hose on the side of the pool and runs around the bottom merrily sucking up algae and small leaves. Basically, it stopped doing that. And since our pool cleaning company hates us because our neighbor’s trees badly overhang our yard and shed leaves into the pool every time there’s a hint of a breeze (yes, we’re getting that fixed next week, but you need the background), they don’t really bother to do anything if the algae eater fails.
Which means that the bottom of our pool is a disaster, and it’s up to me to fix this. Luckily I am descended from engineering and DIY gods, so I can do this messy and time-consuming task by myself, which includes snaking out the cleaner pipe and breaking up any blockages, running a hose down it to flush out said blockages, checking to make sure the suction is back up to snuff, re-priming the pool pump, burping out all the air, and running a hose-driven vortex cleaner to get the big crap off the bottom while the now-working algae eater starts puttering along.
Oh, and I did all this in 95°F heat, because this is Texas and spring don’t last long ’round here. Anyway, to distract myself from the fact that I was melting and desperate for a shower, I started developing dialogue for Olympic Cove Book 3. Why Book 3 and not Book 2, you ask? Well, because my subconscious dropped a beautifully juicy subplot on my head last night for Book 3 that literally made me spin in glee, it was so wonderful (I will give you a hint — it involves snakes). However, this subplot requires a lot of discussion between Poseidon, his consort Amphitrite, and Geoff Gordon, who will turn out to be the gods’ agapetos (if you don’t know what that means, for God’s sake go buy Storm Season, it’s all explained in there). There will be much angst, recrimination and shouting going on while the three of them work all of this out, and since it’s dialogue I started trying it out verbally to see how well it worked. After all, if dialogue doesn’t sound right when said aloud, you’re doing something wrong and you’d best start over.
It was only while I was running the vortex cleaner that I realized I was, er, kinda yelling. At myself. As different characters. I have no idea if anyone heard me, but the neighbors are close enough that if any of them were in their back yards tonight, they were treated to me doing two different accents and genders as I diligently worked out what my characters would say to each other. So, yeah, just in case any of my neighbors ever stumble across this blog and wonder why I talk (and occasionally yell) to myself in the back yard, now you know.
But damn, Book 3 is going to tear your heart out and stomp on it with hobnailed boots. I cannot wait.
Wicked Wednesday Reads: Under Orders
It’s time once again to help you over your Hump Day and spice up your week with a hot little number from Evernight Publishing. This week, Doris O’Connor’s Under Orders invites us into the boardroom to meet a smouldering CEO you won’t forget soon. Check out the excerpt below for a teaser!
Thanks for having me here today, Nicola, with my newest release Under Orders. You asked me what I would tell new authors, so I thought I would talk about that elusive thing new authors will always hear—voice.
What exactly is this thing called voice? I know as a brand new author I was baffled by this term. Every piece of advice I ever read talked about how your voice would make a difference. Now, like most writers first starting out, I had no idea what my voice was. I knew what I wanted it to be like, but that didn’t turn out too well. It was only when I let go of what I thought I should write and let my characters take over that I found my voice. This didn’t happen overnight of course. No, this happened over several manuscripts and countless rejections, but through it all, I kept on writing, and wouldn’t you know it. I discovered that my voice lay in erotic writing. I never would have expected that when I first started out, because those first sex scenes… let’s just say they were grim.
*grins*
Practice makes perfect and the more you write the clearer your voice will be, and you may well surprise yourself. So, after all that rambling, the best piece of advice I can give a new writer is to simply write, and write, and write.
Who ever heard of being ordered to wear vibrating panties to a business meeting? The visiting CEO may be sex-on-legs-gorgeous, but Anna knows a sexual harassment case when she sees it. No one is going to order her to entertain Jonathan Symmonds—no one but her own body it seems.
Jonathan proves a hard man to resist. When he reveals his secret identity, this daughter of a slayer ought to be running for the hills, not play submissive to his dark side.
Will passion and a shared past be enough to keep them together, or is their bond doomed to end at the stake?
Story Excerpt
Clearly it had been way too long since Anna had last gotten laid if her body could respond to a complete stranger in this fashion of reckless abandonment.
He turned his attention back to the room, and Anna released the breath she’d been holding. Brian glared at her, and that uneasy feeling in her stomach returned. She squared her shoulders and stared him down, before Jonathan’s hand on her thigh pulled her attention back to him.
“I would like to thank Anna for her diligent attention to detail in drawing up these reports.” He shifted his hand higher during those few words, until he reached the top of her stocking. Digging one finger underneath he caressed the soft skin of her inner thigh, and Anna forced herself not to squirm and give the game away. “She has been most thorough, and the results will show once and for all who is responsible for this current … mishap.”
He smiled briefly, and looked toward Brian. The older man shrank in his seat. His Adam’s apple bobbed wildly as though he could barely hold onto his saliva. Beads of sweat broke out on his ruddy complexion, and Anna was half expecting the pencil he clutched to splinter under the strain of his white knuckled grip.
“I also feel the need to make it clear that Anna acted under direct orders from myself and her immediate superior.” He nodded toward Anna’s boss, and Leonard Peterson shifted to stand behind Brian, his expression as grave as she’d ever seen it.
“No one here should have any reason to hold the findings of this report against Anna.” Again he paused, and his penetrating gaze swept around the room until he seemed satisfied that he had everyone’s undivided attention. At the same time he shifted his hand higher up the inside of her thigh, until his knuckles brushed against the damp fabric covering her slit. Anna bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. The feather light touch seared her core, and her internal muscles clenched in need. The fabric grew wetter, and he was bound to notice. She risked a peek at his profile, and the slight elevation to his bottom lip told her that he knew exactly how turned on she was.
He took a deep breath and brushed his forefinger against her clit, pressing down just enough to make the little nubbin tingle in anticipation. That smirk of his deepened, when she couldn’t help her involuntary jump in response.
“Likewise no one in this room has anything to fear from these findings, unless they have not been acting in the company’s best interests. If you have indeed been mishandling funds then now would be a prudent time to own up to this fact.”
Again he paused, and Anna held her breath. He looked every inch the ruthless and dangerous business man he was reported to be. His harsh features had drawn tight, his high cheek bones accentuated under the artificial lighting that filled the room, despite the blaring sun outside the windows overlooking London’s skyline. He held himself perfectly still, the muscles bulging in tension under the light summer suit he wore. Only his finger moved in slow, measured circles, designed to drive Anna to the brink of insanity. She grasped hold of her armrests again, and coughed to hide her moan as that finger slipped under the elastic of her underwear and teased her entrance.
“I-I—” Brian shot out of his chair and looked as though he would have made a run for it, had Leonard not grabbed him by the suit lapels and pinned him against the wall. The door burst open, and two burly security guards took over and dragged Brian from the room. Anna was barely aware of the ensuing commotion, because Jonathan chose that moment to thrust two fingers knuckle deep inside her channel. Her pussy walls tightened around the digits, and Anna shut her eyes against the rising sensation deep within. There was something so deliciously naughty about the CEO finger-fucking her under the table.
The barely functioning rational side of her brain urged her to scream, to do something. He was taking liberties with her body that he had no right to take, but the other horny as hell part of her told that side to shut the fuck up, even as Jonathan added his thumb to her clit, pushing her closer and closer to release.
“Leonard, get Anna a glass of water. She is looking a little flushed.”
Her eyes flew open at the amused words, and she knew her cheeks must be as red as the roses in the vase across the room, when her boss stepped close enough to her to see exactly what was happening under the table. Jonathan did not release her. If anything he stepped up his assault, curling his fingers in such a way that he massaged her sweet spot deep inside.
Leonard cleared his throat repeatedly, and the water splashed over the side of the glass he was pouring for Anna, masking the wet sounds of Jonathan’s fingers thrusting in and out of her sopping cunt. She would leave a visible stain on her skirt and chair at this rate, but Anna could no more stop herself from climbing towards bliss than she could stop breathing. She dug her fingers into the arms of her chair and bit her lip so hard she drew blood, as her orgasm hit her with the full force of a speeding train. Irrespective of where she was, or perhaps because of it, waves of pleasure crashed over her, as her body shook in delicious aftershocks. Jonathan did not withdraw his fingers until the last of her shudders stopped, and when she opened her eyes it was to find the room empty, bar the three of them.
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
Bookstrand
All Romance Ebooks
Amazon
About Doris O’Connor
Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris… at least that’s what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.
There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.
She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
Where to Find Doris O’Connor
Website
Blog
Twitter
Facebook
Pinterest
Evernight Publishing
Amazon
All Romance E-Books
BookStrand
Barnes & Noble
I really, really, really need minions
In the last ten days or so I wrote two short stories (well, I say short — each story was about 10,000 words) for Evernight (yes, I’m submitting to their MF antho, and that bloody story fought me all the way down the pike. But dammit, I did the final edit this afternoon and sent “Grading the Curve” off, so that’s all good), did due diligence on PR and ran a blog tour for Storm Season, created a print version of my speculative fiction short story collection through CreateSpace (which included creating a print-acceptable interior, tweaking the cover so that it wouldn’t look muddy in print, and basically swearing to myself for a good six hours), shoveled nine bags of mulch onto my front flowerbeds, planted two Roses of Sharon on either end of the beds, planted impatiens and caladiums in the bed around the live oak out front, finished two pieces of jewelry for the Etsy store, made and sent off a bunch of Etsy sales, and kept the house surprisingly clean.
I still have to finish a short story (steampunk adventure for a change) for an editor who is patiently waiting for it, hammer up another Etsy sale, work on three websites for friends, edit and release two podcast episodes, snake out my pool cleaner pipe because it’s not sucking properly (hur hur), finish weeding my side flower bed, pull out these grassy plants that I hate and transplant the rose bushes currently there to a bed at the back of my house where they won’t get hammered with Texas sun all day long, transplant some lantana from THAT bed to the one along my garage, put drought-resistant plants in the side bed, clean my master bath so that I can paint the cabinets and finally be able to use the room properly five years after Ramón and I bought this place, finish Two to Tango and Iron Cross, and then I can finally start Breaker Zone.
I’m sure I’m forgetting something. Which is why I need minions. I’m starting to see the point of having children; sure, they require a lot of looking after when they’re little, but once they’re big enough to hold a paintbrush or run a vacuum, you’re golden. If my cats had opposable thumbs, I swear I’d teach them how to use social media.
Well, that was a good Thursday
- My guest post “Beautful Yet Cruel: Reasons to Make Your Villain Attractive” went up at Buffy’s Ramblings and attracted a fair amount of attention, based on the number of entries in the Amazon GC giveaway (yes, by the way, I’m giving away a $20 Amazon gift card on this blog tour, so go over to one of my stops and enter).
- I got the acceptance email for my short story “In His Name,” which will be in Evernight’s HIM: Strength Meets Innocence Manlove Edition anthology (the blurb for the story is, “Father Sean Halloran is a priest in crisis who must choose between his vocation and his growing desire for Matt McCormick, a Unitarian minister with a secret.” I am so going to hell for this one — but it’s tastefully done, I swear). I’m also trying to finish the story for the MF antho version at the moment, so with luck I may be able to make this a twofer.
- A bunch of lovely people started following me on Twitter and Facebook — hi people!
- I started weightlifting again last night. My body decided I was insane, and insisted on a 5-hour nap. When I woke up, Ramón had pizza waiting for me. Yay pizza!
So, yeah, that was a good day. I still have two more guest blog posts to write, the MF antho short story to finish, a short story for a steampunk magazine that is being patiently waited upon by the editor to finish as well, an Etsy sale to mail off and a couple of podcasts to edit. Happy Friday, y’all!
Wicked Wednesday Reads: Timing Is Everything
It’s time once again to help you over your Hump Day and spice up your week with a smoulderingly sexy Romance on the Go entry from Evernight Publishing. This week, Tamsin Baker’s Timing Is Everything follows newbie Angie as she dips her toe — and other body parts — into BDSM with her boss and secret crush Mark. Check out the excerpt below for a teaser!
Angie has always wanted to visit the BDSM dungeon her boss and long time friend frequents. When she finally gets there she is scared, interested, and aroused. The car trip home with the man she is secretly in love with, indicates he may feel the same too.
Unable to do much about it that night, Angie frees herself of her current ties and gets ready for the next Friday at Lily’s—taking the risk to lose her job and her best friend. Will it be worth it to find out just how deep Mark’s feelings go?
Story Excerpt
Mark held open Angie’s door and guided her into the car without touching her. Sadness and disappointment shut down her breathing. Angie knew she shouldn’t have felt that way after he had shared such an incredible experience with her, but she did and she didn’t know what to do about the tension between them now.
They had always walked a tight line, Mark and her. He was currently single but had been married for almost ten years before a messy divorce and several girlfriends. She was currently in a new but committed relationship.
They never seemed to get their lives to coordinate properly and their timing was always off. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed so hard to come investigate this party with him? Had she threatened their friendship?
Mark slipped into the driver side, his hand going to his pants to readjust himself.
“Sorry.” He apologized as he started the car.
Angie laughed. What else was there to do at a moment like this? They were both turned on, and yet they could do nothing about it. “Why? I’m as uncomfortable as you are, I’m sure.”
His head turned to her, brown eyes piercing in the darkness. Angie didn’t let her gaze drop. She had always wanted this man and her arousal was partly due to him. But, she couldn’t, she was in a relationship!
However, with Angie’s heart rate increasing steadily and her head fuzzy as though intoxicated, that didn’t seem all that pertinent at the moment.
“You’re aroused?” His voice was gruff, as though he had been standing around a campfire too long.
Angie giggled, again inappropriately. “Of course I am. Did you see that final scene? Wow …”
Mark cleared his throat and shifted in his car seat again. His face showed worry and something Angie couldn’t work out, which was unusual as she usually read him better than anyone.
She frowned as she surveyed him a moment longer. “Mark, what’s wrong?”
He cleared his throat and set his shoulders. “We’ve been friends a long time and I have no wish to ruin that …” he trailed off.
Angie’s heart rate sped up again and she clenched her knees together as a new gush of wetness soaked her panties. “Yes?”
“I’ve always wanted to taste you.”
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
Amazon.com
All Romance Ebooks
Bookstrand
About Tamsin Baker
Tamsin Baker is an Aussie girl who LOVES to read.
For fifteen years she read romance looking for the ‘good’ bits.
When she found erotic romance and pure erotica reading it was like coming home to people who knew what she wanted to read and wow, did her head space change.
Tamsin could now read what she wanted and found she could write a little too.
She’s only beginning this journey but she looks forward to putting out lots of books in the future and reading even more!
Enjoy and thank you.
Nicola Cameron Writes 