Marc Nobbs From Across the Pond

Blog Relocation

2011-02-01T13:29:00.000Z

Hi, thanks for visiting.

This blogger site is now just a holding place for my blog archive and I'm afraid I'll no longer be updating it. Instead, hop over to my new blog/website based on the Joomla content management system.

http://marcnobbs.co.uk

Thanks,

Marc

My Absence

2010-11-10T21:58:00.001Z

I know, I know. I’ve been absent not just from this blog, but from twitter and Facebook too, for quite a while now. There are number of reasons, not least of which is the imminent house move. Contracts were finally exchanged earlier this week and we’re all set to move on Friday and over the weekend. Of course, after that we have to put the new house in order, and who knows how long that will take?

But I have to confess that I’ve also been feeling a little… “Marc-Nobbs-ed-out” of late. It’s hard to really explain, but that’s pretty much it. I’ve been trying to re-connect with the ‘real’ me. You know, the married father with a day job.

I’d been toying with the idea of creating a ‘real’ Facebook profile for a few months after realising just how many of my old schoolmates and university friends are members. And a couple of weeks ago I did just that. Even fell right back into the old routine with a few of my old friends. So that’s been taking up some of my time. Time I could have been spending writing, but haven’t.

I’ll admit that I’ve toyed with the idea of placing Marc Nobbs on an extended hiatus. I even toyed with the idea of pulling my publications and website and disappearing altogether. But I decided against that.

The problem, for me, is that publishing ‘for profit’ (as in, getting paid royalties) isn’t as rewarding as when I was publishing for free. Obviously, it’s more rewarding financially, but I’ve always said I wasn’t in this for the money. Which is a good thing really given the money would never be enough to live on.

No, writing, for me, is about sharing my ideas and characters and getting feedback from readers. Back when I was publishing for free, feedback was the only payment, and the readers knew that, so they offered feedback. It was sometimes called the ‘Blowjob Principle” – which means ‘if you enjoyed it, giving praise is more likely to result in more of it.” Readers sent authors e-mails of thanks in the hope the author would write more.

But if you’ve paid a few dollars for a book, that need to praise the author to get him to write more is removed – because in effect, you’ve already rewarded him in the form of the money you’ve paid (of which he’ll get a cut).

In other words, ever since I started publishing for pay – first at Ruthie’s and then at Phaze – the feedback from readers has dried up. Oh, I still get to see what some readers think in the form of reviews, but I miss that personal interaction with readers.

So, I’m giving serious consideration to going back to my old model. Giving my stories away for ‘free’ – the only ‘payment’ requested being a note of thanks from the reader and word about what they thought of the story.

Honestly, I don’t know. What I do know is that I am taking some time off from being Marc Nobbs, so that I can be the other me – certainly until the New Year.

So, see you all in 2011.

I Know It’s Been a While

2010-10-18T16:01:00.001+01:00

Sorry about that. Actually, I don’t know why I’m apologising, it’s not like I get paid to do this you know. Blog, I mean. I suppose you could argue that blogging is promotion and possibly leads to book sales so in a roundabout way, I do get paid for blogging, but not very much.

It’d be below the minimum wage, let’s put it that way.

So, what’s kept me away? Well, life. I’ve been (Yes, I know I say this all the time) busy at work, but more importantly, I’ve been busy at home. We are moving house, you see, and the preparation for it is unimaginable unless you’ve actually done it recently. And we don’t even have a date yet. We are hoping it’ll go ahead around the 11th November, but until the legal work is done there are no guarantees. Ask any Brit that’s moved and they’ll tell you what a monstrous process it is.

At least we don’t have to worry about the chain collapsing as there isn’t one. We’ve buying a new build and the builder is taking our house in part exchange. They can worry about selling it on afterwards. Hopefully it’ll go to some young couple who are just starting out, like we were when we bought it.

But it’s the prospect of the move that’s kept me busy. First, I cleared out as much of the rubbish that’s collected in the shed as I could. That was one weekend spoken for. Then I spent another two weekends getting all the crap down from the loft (or attic as Jr calls it), sorting through it, dumping what we don’t want and can’t sell and storing the rest in the garage, which is now even more full of stuff that before I cleared it out.

I tell you, I can’t believe how much stuff we’ve accumulated over ten years we’ve been in this house. It’s incredible. As is the amount of stuff I know have sitting in the kitchen waiting to go on e-bay.

God love e-bay and the people it turns up who are willing to buy utter garbage.

Actually, some of it is good stuff. I’ve got a collection of Marvel “Return of the Jedi” comics from 1983-1985 to go on. I’ve hoping they will prove popular with the collectors.

So, if I’m quiet in the coming weeks, you know why. I’ll be boxing up glasses, plates and the rest of the house.

Now, must remember to find a good broadband deal for the new house. No, Virgin Media on the site either, so guess I’ll have to contact Sky. :-(

Weekend Away

2010-10-01T15:18:00.001+01:00

Last weekend I took the family away for the weekend. After what had happened in September, I figured we deserved it. We went to Lincolnshire and the highlight of the trip had to be Lincoln Cathedral. Put simply, it’s stunning. And given it’s age – it was built in the 11th Century – it’s even more remarkable.

Below is an album of the photos I took of it. Enjoy.

View Full Album

I still haven’t written very much in too long a time. I’m going to try and rectify that this coming weekend by ‘forcing’ myself to sit and write. I’ll do it by hand with a pen and note book if I have to. What I write might well be crap, but it’ll get me back into the habit and that’s the point. Perhaps I should try and knock out a short and see what happens.

I also plan to add some of the great comments from the two reviews that Eternally & Evermore has received so far to the books webpage. I’m actually chuffed by both reviews – although I am surprised no one’s yet mentioned my favourite character in the book. If you haven’t read it yet, then keep an eye out for young Sophie, Will’s daughter. Amy actually describes her perfectly - “infectious”.

Have a good weekend everyone.

Another Great Review for “Eternally & Evermore”

2010-09-28T17:34:00.001+01:00

I got notification today (aren’t Google alerts great?) of a second review of Eternally & Evermore in the space of a week. And this one is just as good as the last.

The review site is Literary Nymphs and the reviewer is Goddess Minx. Here’s a couple of quotes from the review.

“When I read the blurb for the story Eternally and Evermore, I thought that this should be a good book. Now after having read the story, I know it is a keeper and I enjoyed learning about no matter how much we go through, love finds a way.”

“Now having read this book by Mr. Nobbs, I am pleasantly surprised to know how creative he is with telling this story of romantic proportions. I have added him to my list of authors to read!”

She awarded the book 4 Nymphs out of 5. Read the full review here. This comes on the back of the review at HEA Reviews, which was also great.

I’m feeling pretty good right now.

Eternally & Evermore is available now from the Phaze website and leading e-book retailers.

Love doesn’t make the flowers smell sweeter, Love wakes you up to the world around you. Love won’t make you flawless, but Love will take away the fear that holds you back. Love isn’t the destination, Love is journey you take with the one person who cares about you most.

Twenty years after promising to love each other “Eternally & Evermore”, teenage sweethearts, Amy and Will, are reunited to discover their love burns as strongly as it ever did. But while Will is a successful lawyer, Amy has walked a tougher path. What secrets does she harbour? What ghosts litter her past? And what horrors will they have to endure before they can finally be together “Eternally & Evermore.”

Eternally & Evermore is Marc’s latest novel. In it you’ll meet William Brown and Amy Robinson - two teenage sweethearts as they explore their first love. They and their relationship will charm you and make you wish you were eighteen again.

But then you’ll be catapulted forward twenty years to when Will is a divorced father of one and a brilliant lawyer - and he hasn’t seen Amy since she sent him a ‘Dear John’ letter during their time at different universities. An invitation to his class reunion brings his feelings for Amy flooding back - especially when they meet up again to find that she feels the same way.

But while Will is rich and successful, Life has not been kind to Amy. She’s been through hard times and made some bad choices. Now that Will is back in her life, can she find the strength to put things right. Can they finally be together Eternally & Evermore.

Passionate and emotional, yet thought provoking, Eternally & Evermore will charm you and leave you breathless. This is one book you cannot afford to miss.

Great Review for “Eternally & Evermore”

2010-09-23T21:53:00.001+01:00

Monica from Happily Ever After Reviews, has written a wonderfully kind review of Eternally & Evermore. You can read it here.

She awarded the book “4 Tea Cups” out of five and recommends the book to “to people that can relate with the struggles that a relationship goes through when they find their true love, and feel compelled in helping them however they can in order to keep them safe.”

A couple of quotes from the review…

“From being teenagers to adults, this love story is wonderful.”

“Nobbs writes William Brown as an exceptional, shy sweet young man who becomes a brilliant lawyer. The way the character goes about protecting Amy during their final school year, to how he protects after the high school reunion is heroic.”

“In Chapter 29 Nobbs does a great job in writing how much Amy has gone through since they were last together nearly 20 years later. The feelings and expressions how much pain and heartache Amy went through since William went to Oxford.”

“My favorite quote in the book is "Like the song says, It's always been you. And it always be. You'll be in my heart, Eternally and evermore."”

I’d like to thank Monica for her review. It feels great when people enjoy your work.

You can buy Eternally & Evermore direct from Phaze, or from your preferred e-book store (But not for your Kindle yet – that normally takes a a while to get to the Amazon store).

Need to Get my Arse in Gear

2010-09-21T22:47:00.001+01:00

It’s time I started writing again. What with the holiday in the middle of August, returning to a mountain of work that I still haven’t really caught up with, and then what happened last week, I’ve written very, very little of my WIP in the past month or so. Shame really, cause I left it at a pretty interesting point. It should be easy to pick up the thread of the story – if I can just find it within myself to actually start writing again.

On a different note, I’ve uploaded a new profile pic to Twitter, Facebook et al. It’s on the right. What do you think? I like of think of myself as a bit of a trendsetter with that cap. So I was only mildly upset when one of the girls at work said “Eh Up, Granddad, where’s yer bike?”

Another of the girls said she could see me in the hat, standing in some field with my trousers tucked into my wellies, sporting a Harris Tweed jacket with my shotgun sitting in the crook of my arm. Yeah, like I can afford Harris Tweed.

Heartache Maketh the Writer

2010-09-20T14:48:00.001+01:00

They say, or so I’m led to believe, that writers are at their best when pouring out all the heartache, tragedy and pain of their own lives onto the page. Is it true? I don’t know, but maybe I’m about to find out. Although, to be honest, I’ve never felt less like writing than I do at the moment.

September was supposed to be a month of celebration following the release of Eternally & Evermore at the end of August. Should have known better, shouldn’t I?

First of all, the book didn’t get its release when it was supposed to. It should have been available to buy on 30th August – that’s what I was told. On the publisher's “Coming Soon” page it was listed as available in August (but no day specified) as well. But on September 1st it still wasn’t released. I did my best to find out what was up, and if the delay was my fault, but it took another week before the book came out. 7th September to be exact. And I still don’t know the reason for the delay (not that it matters, but it would be nice to know).

More worrying, perhaps, is that, as I write this post, there hasn’t been another release from Phaze since then (as my book is showing first on the ‘recently released’ list), my book is still on the “Coming Soon” page (and is still shown as “Coming in August”) and there are no other books listed on that page.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I hope it gets sorted out soon.

Then something else, something more important, happened which really fucked September up good and proper. My wife suffered a miscarriage.

She was ‘only’ ten weeks gone, but it was enough for the both of us to start making plans and get excited. That’ll teach us.

So I’m sure you’ll forgive my absence from this blog for a while. I’ve had more important things to deal with. Of course, if “Heartache Maketh the Writer” is true, I should have been channelling everything I was feeling into possibly my best work ever, but like I said, I’ve never felt less like writing. It just doesn't seem important right now.

Still, life goes on. Eternally & Evermore is out and available to buy from the Phaze website, Smashwords, and All Romance eBooks. My little boy has started school and my wife and I both still have our health. Even if we are trying to come to terms with what has happened. Life goes on.

Where you been?

2010-09-01T15:19:00.001+01:00

Okay, so the whole point of advance posting the Eternally & Evermore excerpts was so that my blog didn’t go without a posting for two weeks. And what happens when I get back from holiday? Yep, I spend so much time catching up with everything, that my blog goes without a post for two weeks.

Bloody typical.

Oh, well, can’t have everything. I’m still struggling for time to be honest, so for today, here’s the trailer for E&E. It does say that the book is ‘available now’, but it isn’t. Yet. I was expecting to be released yesterday, but it’s still showing as ‘Coming soon’ on the Phaze website. (Actually, it says ‘Coming in August’ but don’t go there). I’m trying to find out what the delay is and will let you guys know when I know. Anyway, enjoy the trailer.

Morning Shower – an “Eternally & Evermore” excerpt

2010-08-18T09:00:00.000+01:00

Last of my pre-scheduled mid-week posts. I’m back home next week and back to the grind stone. But in the meantime, here’s a sexy excerpt from Eternally & Evermore.

I suppose I should remind you that I do write erotic romance and this excerpt is certainly erotic.

Enjoy.

The gentle chatter of Radio Four woke Will early the next morning. He normally made sure he deactivated the alarm before going to sleep on Friday nights, reactivating it again before bed on Sunday, but for once he’d forgotten. He lay on his back, his arm around Amy as she lay sleeping on his left. Her breathing was rhythmic and peaceful. Her head rested on his chest and she had an arm and leg draped over him.
Will couldn’t remember ever sharing his bed and sleeping so soundly—even when he was married. Since moving to Westmouth he hadn’t shared his bed very often, but when he did he always woke feeling tired after tossing and turning and failing to get comfortable with a relative stranger next to him.
There was one exception—Sophie, but he didn’t think she counted. And besides, if his daughter shared his bed it was because something in the dark of the night had spooked her. Ever since she was very small, she would climb in bed and snuggle up to him whenever she got scared. And he would lie awake, holding her tight, and listen to her gently fall asleep. Sometimes he’d drift off himself. Others, he’d lie awake all night just to listen to her breathe.
But that was different. He was protecting his daughter. This night with Amy...
He’d slept so soundly partly because she’d worn him out. They’d made love in every position they could until the early hours. Then when he slept, he held her close not to protect her, but to know she was still there and to feel her next to him. He felt content. Happy.
He kissed the top of her head. She looked beautiful with her eyes closed and a peaceful look on her face.
“I love you,” he whispered, so as not to wake her. “I always have.”
He slipped his arm from around her and gently pushed himself into a sitting position. Her head fell from its resting place on his chest and she woke with a jolt.
“Wha..?” She looked around the room.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m just going for a shower, that’s all.”
“What? Oh. Sorry. I forgot where I was.” She smiled. “Morning, handsome.”
“Morning.”
“What time is it?”
“Too early. I forgot to switch the alarm off.”
“I wonder what made you forget.”
“I wonder.” He kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll have a shower then make you some breakfast and bring it up.”
She stretched and yawned as he got out of bed and then settled back into comfortable position on her side.
He padded into the en-suite, where he pulled the cord that switched on the electricity supply to the shower, climbed into the cubicle and pushed the button that turned on the jets of water. The room soon steamed up and condensation formed on the glass panel walls surrounding him.
He had his back to the shower door, his head under the water and his eyes closed, so he didn’t see the shadow that Amy cast as she approached. And he didn’t hear the door open or hear her step inside with him. He jumped and turned around when he felt her hands on his body.
“Mind if I join you?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but stood on tip toes to kiss him instead. She reached up to the small shelf in the corner of the cubicle and grabbed the bottle of shower gel.
“Hmm,” she said when she read the label, “with honey and milk extract, for sensitive skin. Sensitive skin, eh? In that case, I’ll be gentle.”
“You weren’t very gentle last night.”
“Neither were you.”
She poured some of the peach coloured cream into the palm of her hand and rubbed it on his chest. She took care to work up lather, rubbing her hands all over his chest, stomach and sides.
“Turn around. I want to do your back.”
He did as he was told as she poured some more shower cream into her hand. She gave his back and buttocks the same treatment that she had his chest then reached around and gripped his erection.
“Best make sure this is clean too.” She stroked it lovingly a few times then let go. “All done. My turn now.”
Will turned around to see her pouring the cream over her breasts.
“Hurry up and get me clean, before the water washes it away.”
Will raised his hands and massaged the soap into Amy’s bosom. She moaned and rocked her hips as his hands slipped over her skin, down her belly and brushed her pussy. Will took great care cleaning her breasts.
“These seem quite dirty,” he said, rubbing her nipples. “Better make sure I do this properly.”
He bent his head and sucked one of them. He could still taste the soap but sucked and licked regardless. When he was satisfied that it was clean, he turned his attention to the other.
“Oh, William.”
He put his hands on her hips and spun her around. She put her hands against the glass and leaned forward, spreading her legs enough to give him access. He bent his knees, guided his cock into her with one hand and held her hip with the other. When he was safely inside, he gripped her hips with both hands and moved inside her.
With his knees slightly bent, his motion was hindered, but each thrust still pushed her forward and upwards on to her tiptoes. She pushed back against him as he withdrew only to be forced onto her toes again when he returned. He pushed her higher and the higher she got, the less he had to bend and the harder he could thrust into her.
It wasn’t long before he fired his seed into her. And as he filled her she shuddered through her own orgasm. She dropped back onto the flats of her feet, forcing him out of her pussy with a plop. As soon as she was unplugged, a stream of his ejaculate flooded from her, mixed with the shower water and washed down the drain.
She turned around, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Wow. What a lovely way to start the day.”
“I whole-heartedly second that.”

Six Sentence Sunday 15/08/2010 – Eternally & Evermore

2010-08-15T09:00:00.000+01:00

Sunday’s mean six sentences. This week they again come from Eternally & Evermore.

Enjoy.

Maurice was waiting for him in the foyer.
“Will! It’s about damn time. A word please.” He gestured to an empty meeting room off the foyer. Once inside he snapped, “Care to tell me why I have three officers from SOCA waiting in my boardroom?”
“They’re already here?”

Eternally & Evermore will be released by Phaze in late August. For more Six Sentence Sunday posts, visit the blog.

Dance with me – an “Eternally & Evermore” excerpt

2010-08-12T09:00:00.000+01:00

Yes, I’m still on holiday, and yes, I’ve still scheduled an excerpt for your reading pleasure. This excerpt follows on from from Tuesday’s – just a few scenes further on.

Enjoy.

Will stared up at the sky. With no moon, no clouds and very little light pollution from the villages in the surrounding countryside, the great mass of stars that made up the Milky Way was on display. It reminded him just how small and insignificant he and his problems were in the great scheme of things. But to him, right then, right there, they were everything.
The band’s next song was a slow one.
“I recognise this.”
She nodded. “Eternally and Evermore. It’s unmistakable.”
“Our song.”
She turned towards him. “Dance with me?”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Please.”
He took her in his arms and as they swayed gently under the starlight, she raised her hand to his cheek and gently pulled him towards her.
“Amy, we—”
“Shhh.”
Their lips met, lightly brushing against each other, barely touching, but the thrill that ran up Will’s back was electric. He could almost feel the lightning bolt leap from his lips to hers. It was more than anything he’d felt in the years since he’d last kissed her. It was as if it was their second first kiss and it was every bit as earth-shattering as the original. It was tender. Gentle. The kiss of a couple still in love after a lifetime together. Yet they were a couple fate had kept apart.
His lips lingered on hers and he savoured her sweet taste while she made quiet gurgling sounds in the back of her throat. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and tenderly explored while his hands caressed her back and her tongue welcomed his with light caresses. Then it went nuclear. Years of passion, like a volcanic eruption, spilled into that one, mind-blowing kiss.
Finally, reluctantly, he pulled away from her. She tipped her head back, kept her eyes closed and shuddered.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” Will said.
“I know,” she whispered, her eyes still closed. “I just...”
“What?”
“I just needed to know.” She touched her lips with the tips of two fingers.
“Know what?”
She opened her eyes to look into his. “If it was still there.”
“What was?”
“Us. The spark. The connection.”
“And was it?”
“Was it ever? More’s the pity.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because....” She sighed. “Life would have been so much less complicated if it wasn’t.”

Eternally & Evermore will be released by Phaze in late August.

Unhappy Reunion – an “Eternally & Evermore” excerpt

2010-08-10T09:00:00.000+01:00

I might be on holiday, but I can still schedule posts. Here is an excerpt from the upcoming Eternally & Evermore.

Enjoy.

Will left the bathroom but didn’t return to the party. Instead he wandered into the foyer and slumped into one of four red leather sofas clustered around a low rectangular coffee table scattered with newspapers and magazines. He shook his head and sighed. Why had no one told him? Warned him? Or was Nugent lying? He’d always been fast and loose with the truth. But something about the way he’d spoken told Will it wasn’t a lie.
He pulled his mobile phone out of his inside jacket pocket and slid his thumb across the screen to unlock it. The screen lit up, displaying a picture of a young girl with a wide grin as the background wallpaper. He smiled as he looked at her.
“Is that your daughter? Sophie, isn’t it?” Lizzie was standing behind the sofa. He looked up at her and when she saw the questioning look on his face she said, “I came out of the ladies just as you left the gents. Saw you coming this way and thought we could have a chat without having to shout over the music.” She paused. “She’s very pretty.”
“She is, isn’t she?” He tapped screen twice to display the photo fully and handed it to Lizzie.
She sat on the arm of the sofa and looked at the picture. “She has your eyes. And your smile.”
“And her mother’s sharp tongue, which, thankfully, she doesn’t use very often. She’s very difficult to get worked up.”
“Then it sounds like she’s got your temperament too. Are there any more?”
Will reached to swipe across the screen and the picture scrolled to one of father and daughter laughing.
“That’s nice,” Lizzie said. “Where is it?”
“Her thirteenth a couple of months ago. One of the few birthdays I’ve been able to get to. I usually have to make do with an early or late celebration. Some dad I turned out to be, huh?”
“I’m sure you’re a great dad.”
He sighed. “How great can I be when I’m only part-time?”
“How often do you see her?”
“Officially I have joint custody, but since she schools in London, I normally see her every other weekend and most of the holidays.”
“Most?”
“We alternate Christmas and New Year, one year she spends Christmas with her mother and New Year with me, next year we switch. Easter and half terms are mine, and we split the summer.”
“And she knows she can call you whenever she wants, right?”
“Yeah. And she does. Although, lately it’s been to complain about some punishment or other that her mother has imposed. She’s a hell of a texter too. But that’s the youth of today.”
Lizzie laughed.
“What?”
“You keep saying her mother. As if she doesn’t have a name.”
“Lynn. Her name’s Lynn. Sad to say, that all she is to me now. My daughter’s mother.”
“You must have loved her once.”
“I did.” The finality in his voice said that topic was out of bounds.
Lizzie nudged him to scoot up the sofa, sat beside him and handed his phone back. “Is tonight as bad as you expected?”
“Who said I expected it to be bad?”
“You did.” He didn’t answer. “What are you doing out here on your own anyway?”
“Deciding if I should call a cab or not.”
“You’re leaving? Why?”
He looked at her for a few moments before answering. “I had a conversation with John Nugent while I was in the bathroom.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.” He took in the look of horror on her face, masked by forced indifference. “Why didn’t you tell me, Lizzie?”
“Tell you what?”
“Lizzie!”
She shrugged. “Amy asked me not to. Don’t look at me like that. She’s my best friend, what did you expect me to do?”
“I’m your oldest friend.”
“And you haven’t spoken to me for nearly ten years.”
“So that makes it okay to lie to me, does it?”
“I didn’t lie to you. I just... left out some details.”
“Pretty big detail,” he mumbled.
“Besides, would have come tonight if I’d have told you beforehand?”
He looked away. “Probably not.”
“That’s what I figured.”

Eternally & Evermore is released by Phaze at the end of August.

Six Sentence Sunday 08/08/2010 – Eternally & Evermore

2010-08-08T09:00:00.000+01:00

At some point today, I’ll arrive at the holiday cottage we’ve rented that will be our home away from home for two weeks.

But through the beauty of advanced scheduling, I’m able to bring you a Six Sentence Sunday post this week. So, here are six of the best from Eternally & Evermore which is released at the end of this month.

She half smiled. “You might decide you don’t want me.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“It might. William, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, I have... baggage. When you know everything, you might change your mind.”

Eternally & Evermore will be released by Phaze at the end of August. For more Six Sentence Sunday posts, visit the blog.

Off on my Jollies

2010-08-06T09:00:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow morning I’m off on my hols for two whole weeks. A much needed break, if I do say so myself. Through the course of today I’m going to try and put together and schedule some blog posts to automatically go up while I’m away, but I expect today will be quite busy at work (being my last day and all) and tonight I’ve got some packing to do – so don’t be disappointed if I miss out.

I’ve turned in my final edits for Eternally & Evermore. I think it’s pretty clean but as the author you get so close to your text that it’s often difficult to see even your most obvious mistakes. Hopefully I’ve given the final proof-reader a tough job to find anything that needs changing, but we all know how fresh eyes spot things others don’t.

It’s been long enough since I turned the document over to my editor that when I got it back and went through it myself I was able to read it almost as if I was reading it for the first time, and I was surprised at how well the story created the emotions in me that I set out to stir when I wrote it. For example, there are two points in the story where I almost started crying as I read it – for two very different reasons, one happy, the other sad.

It’s quite strange, don’t you think, that we humans can react to two such wildly conflicting emotions in essentially the same way. For example, I cried when my son was born. Why? It was a happy event. The happiest. So why cry? Crying is what you do when you’re upset isn’t it?

Whatever.

I hope you’ll enjoy any excerpts I am able to schedule for the next two weeks. In fact, I hope you’ll enjoy them so much you’ll go out (or rather, stay in and log on) and buy the book. My editor said something the other day. She said it’s a story about choices. About how the choices we make set our lives on different paths, and how even though we may have made the wrong choice at some point, it’s possible to make up for it later by making the right choice. Or just as possible to compound it by making more bad choices.

The protagonist and antagonist of the book are examples of this. They were childhood friends, but their choices led them in different directions in life. And when they come together again later in life, it’s the choices they then make, correcting or compounding previous bad choices, that determine their fates.

Wednesday Words - “Secret Love Match” by Nancy Lenna

2010-08-04T09:00:00.000+01:00

In a follow-up from Friday’s guest post, here’s an excerpt from Nancy Lenna’s Secret Love Match which is available from Red Rose publishing now.

SECRET LOVE MATCH

By Nancy Lennea

“This has been one heck of a day, Taylor. I watched you open that van door and sweep Jamie into your arms. Until the van took off, I forgot to breathe.”

“Everything turned out okay.”

“I know. He means so much to me. I love him as if he were my own. I hope I’m blessed with a little boy like him someday.”

He squirmed slightly at her words until he pictured her with a newborn at her breast. As she ground her lithe body into his buttocks, he used all his composure to keep from coming where he stood.

“I wonder how the bad guys knew where we are staying.”

“I have no idea, sweetheart. Only Gloria and Vinnie knew.”

“That’s not exactly true.”

Taylor swung around and grabbed her by the shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I got a phone call just after you put me in your bed.”

“And?” Taylor asked, while forcing away that seductive image.

“Stuart called. He was concern for my safety and—”

“And you told him you are safe with me, in my hotel.”

“Yes. But, he couldn’t possibly have anything to do with all this.”

“Let’s go for a swim,” he said, changing the subject. He kissed her, satisfying his need to taste her lips. His hands slid around her with his yearning to pull her close.

Savoring her scent, he released her then tiptoed into his bedroom while Becka went to change in the downstairs bathroom. Vinnie lay sprawled across the bed, fully clothed. Earlier, they listened to him call Gloria to assure her of everyone’s safety. Now pain and weariness etched his face. Taylor offered him his bed. Happy to see his friend out cold, he stripped off his clothes and tugged on his swimsuit and beach robe. Grabbing condoms from the nightstand and two towels from the master bathroom, he joined Becka in the kitchen.

A small, pink bikini hugged her curves. Hoping his now-limp cock would stay that way, for the time being, he picked up a room key, slipped on sandals, and led her toward the rooftop pool.

“What about Stuart Craddock? Do you think he had anything to do with all this?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. The man obviously wants you unless it’s part of a plot to get closer to your sister. Seems too far-fetched.”

“But, he knew what airport and what flight I would be taking home the day the cabbie attacked me at the estate. Could he have instigated the first kidnapping attempt as well?”

He couldn’t answer her question though he’d always suspected Craddock hid dirty secrets. It wouldn’t surprise him if he ran with a crook like Spratt. He wheeled the dining cart into the hall then shut the door. The two burly guards stood at attention outside Princess Sophia’s door. As they passed, Taylor stopped a moment to let them know what happened. He stressed the need to take extra precautions. The men nodded at his hushed words.

Becka sensed Bart Spratt wouldn’t give up until he had Jamie, or until they stopped him. Could he be in business with Stuart? In her naivety, she’d assumed he had earned his millions legally. She might have been dangerously misinformed.

Becka waited for Taylor to do what he did best—keep her safe. Tonight, the safety of her entire family lay in his hands. He’d told Gloria to spend the night with a friend in case Spratt and his thugs thought they’d all head back to the estate.

“Please don’t worry. They can’t reach our floor,” Taylor assured her, “the elevator requires a key card. I’ve had the entire staff put on alert. The princess’s guards will keep an eye out as well.”

The afternoon’s terror-filled kidnap attempt wiped everyone out. Laney had stepped in and taken charge of her son, but why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut about her and Taylor?

She let him pull her down the hall by the wrist. He used his key card to open a door near the elevators. A staircase led up to a tiled patio, surrounding the pool. She tossed her towel on a lounge chair. A steamy breeze wafted over the privacy wall. The scents and sounds of the city enveloped her as she removed her cover-up. Exhaust fumes mingled with fragrant tea roses blooming on a trellis. Car horns and revving engines seemed out of place amid their beauty.

“It’s getting late.” Stars twinkled above their heads making her feel as if she and Taylor were the only people on earth. She dipped a toe in the water. The deep end lay shrouded by shadow. The danger had ceased for today, but the tension in her shoulders lingered. The pain in her head had dissipated, but the horror of Jamie’s kidnapping seeped in. She needed to occupy her mind and body in order to dull terror-sparked senses.

The man of her dreams tossed his own towel into a chair, and then dove into the midnight blue water. Lit by one low-wattage underwater bulb, the water in the shallow end sparkled.

He cut through the dark water then popped up across from where she stood. She hesitated, unsure why Taylor scared her. He would never do anything she didn’t want him to do. She yearned to feel his arms wrapped around her.

She padded barefoot to the stairs in the shallow end. She sensed his gaze following her every move. When sensual warmth filled her belly, she chewed on her lower lip. The cool water soothed the heat blooming between her thighs. When the water reached her chest, she shivered, unsure if her body reacted to the night air or the hungry look on his face.

Her hands cut through the silky liquid. She swam until she slipped into his arms. Taylor held onto the side of the pool with one hand, treading water, and clasped his other hand around her waist.

Pulled into his wet embrace, lips found lips.

The near-silence, disturbed only by those faraway sounds of city life, soothed her fears. He deepened the kiss. His tongue traced her lower lip. She gasped, surprised at the sensuous softness. Her arms instinctively circled his neck while water dripped from his wet hair to slick over her trembling fingers.

“Are you cold, my love?” he asked when he released her mouth.

Did he feel her body shudder? With their faces in shadow, he must be waiting for her to answer. The cool water could not hide his body’s growing interest. When he pressed his groin into hers, she moaned before answering.

“No, Taylor, I’m a little nervous, though.”

“Nervous? You? You are the most courageous woman I’ve ever met.”

ABOUT NANCY LENNA

Nancy lives the dream. After growing up in Huntington, New York, and raising two handsome sons in New Hampshire, Nancy and her husband moved to North Carolina. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, Celtic Heart Romance Writers, Fantasy-Futuristic & Paranormal Romance Writers, and Sisters in Crime. She also writes paranormal romance such as DRAGON’S CURSE from Whispers Publishing as Nancy Lee Badger: www.nancyleebadger.com

Nancy’s website: www.nancylennea.com

Visit her blog for the latest news: www.nancylennea-inlove.blogspot.com.

Our Song – an “Eternally & Evermore” Excerpt

2010-08-03T09:00:00.000+01:00

In yesterday’s excerpt, we saw that the title of the book comes from the title of a song in the book. But why is the song significant? Read on and find out.

During the last period of the day, Will, Julie, Lizzie and Amy sat in the library and worked on an essay for their English class. As usual, Will and Amy had written far more than either of the other two by the time the bell rang to signal the end of the school day. Julie quickly packed her things away and hurried off to meet Bobby, who’d had a maths class.

“Are you two coming?” Lizzie asked as she packed her books into her bag. Amy and Will were both still writing.

“I’m staying,” said Will. “I’m nearly done with the first draft. I’d like to finish it.”

“Okay. Are you doing anything tonight?”

“I don’t know yet. Give me a shout if you’ve got any plans.”

“Yeah, okay. What about you, Amy? Coming?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m nearly finished too. It’s probably not as good as William’s, but...”

“Fine. I’ll walk home by myself then.” She faked indignation then giggled. “I’ll call you later and see what’s what.”

She left Amy and Will alone as they kept writing. Will put his pen down and stretched. Their favourite table was by a window which most pupils had to pass on their way home, so there was a lot of bustle and noise at the end of the day. Whenever he stayed late, Will always found it hard to concentrate for these first few minutes after the bell rang.

“Fancy a drink?” he said. “I’m going to the vending machine for a Coke.”

“Thanks. Coke would be nice. Here—” She pulled her purse out of her bag but Will held his hand up.

“It’s okay. I’ll get it.”

She smiled her radiant smile at him. “Thanks. That’s kind.”

When he returned with two cold cans, the hubbub had died down and he was able to concentrate again. Within half an hour, he’d finished. He put his pen down and picked up the manuscript to read through it.

“How much have you written?” Amy asked.

Will flipped through his work. “About ten sides.”

“That much? That’s way more than you need.”

“I know. It’s how I work. Cram loads in on a first draft, then refine and cut out what I don’t need afterwards.”

“Maybe that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you get better marks than me.” She grinned. “I work the other way round. Do a bare bones first draft and add in detail later.”

Will shrugged. “Don’t see why it would matter. You work the way that’s best for you.”

“I suppose.” She put her pen down. “If you’re done, I think I’ll stop too. I don’t want to stay here on my own. It’s getting dark.”

“Okay. I’ll walk you home if you like.”

“Thanks.”

They packed and left the library. Amy’s house was on a relatively new, privately built estate next to the council estate that Will lived on. It was on his way home—if he went the long way. But he didn’t mind going the long way for Amy. They chatted about nothing in particular until they got to her house. Instead of going straight in, she waited. Her bag was flung over her shoulder and she fiddled with the strap and shuffled her feet as she looked at the floor.

“William?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For last night. You know, for sticking up for me. Again.” She stared into his eyes as she spoke. He could see she meant every word. “You always stick up for me.”

“Well... I mean, I couldn’t stand by and let him say those things. Could I?”

“I know. They were pretty hurtful.”

“I didn’t manage to stop him though. He’s been spreading his lies all day.”

“Yeah. It’s a good job no one believes him.”

“Ray seems to think he might have a point.”

“That’s because Ray’s an idiot. Plus, I’ve turned him down more than a few times too, remember.”

Will nodded.

“William, you do know there’s only one reason why I didn’t dance with John this weekend, don’t you?”

“Because he’s an ignorant tosser?”

She giggled. “Okay, two reasons.”

“So what’s the other one?”

She reached out her hand to touch his.

“Oh,” he said.

She smiled. “Like the song says, It’s always been you. And it always will be. You’ll be in my heart, Eternally and evermore.”

Eternally and evermore. Her hand moved up to his face and she said, “So when are you going to ask me out? Or do I need to wait for a leap year?”

Will shook his head. “No. I mean, not no, just... I don’t know. I always thought...”

“I think this is the part where you kiss me.” She stepped forward, moved her hand to the back of his head and brought her lips to his. It was a child’s kiss. Lips pressed together with the slightest pressure. Mouths and eyes closed. It lasted but seconds, but they were the most exciting seconds Will could remember.

She pulled away but slid her hand down his arm to hold his and she squeezed and said, “I have to go. My tea will be ready. But I’ll call you later. Okay?”

He nodded. He was still in shock. “Okay.”

“We can talk. Or something.”

Getting Closer – an Excerpt from “Eternally & Evermore”

2010-08-02T11:02:00.001+01:00

I’m currently working through the Eternally & Evermore edits which I received this weekend in preparation for the release later this month. I’m pretty sure I can be done with them today or tomorrow and the file can go off to Phaze for them to do what they do to turn my text into a proper e-book.

People have asked me before now about the book’s title. “It’s a bit soppy,” they say. “Where did you get it?”

The answer is… long winded. But the best way to show you is with a couple of excerpts from the book. One today and one tomorrow.

I’m away on holiday in France – and almost certainly out of e-mail contact unless I pay a fortune in roaming charges on my phone – so I’m going to schedule some more excerpts from the book to post on this blog while I’m away. So, aside from this Wednesday’s post from Nancy Lenna, this blog is will be going Eternally & Evermore” crazy for a couple of weeks.

A new song began, a ballad, and on the dance floor couples came together and singles left in search of a partner, refreshment or both. The song was Eternally and Evermore by some American country singer that Will had never heard of until the song hit the top of the charts.

“I love this song,” said Lizzie.

“Me too,” said Amy.

Will shrugged. “It’s alright, I suppose.”

Amy cocked her eyebrow at him. “Dance with me?”

He pointed to his chest. “Me?”

“Well, I wasn’t asking Lizzie.”

“I... Well... Okay.”

As she took his hand and led him to the dance floor, Will’s heart thumped as loud as the song’s bass line, threatening to break free from his chest. They’d danced together before, of course they had. He’d danced with lots of girls at his birthday party earlier in the autumn. But this was Amy’s favourite song. That had to mean something, didn’t it? No. He was reading too much into it. She just wanted to dance and he was the nearest available guy. If she’d been next to some other guy when the song started, she would have asked him. Wouldn’t she?

Still, he had trouble controlling his breathing. And that wasn’t to mention the rise in his trousers that he knew would be inevitable when her body pressed up against his. So he took up formal stance instead, his right hand on her hip, his left holding her hand and a ocean of space between them.

"You're not dancing with your mother, William," Amy said with a smile brighter than all the lights of the disco combined. She let go of his hand, grabbed his waist and pulled him close. "That's better."

His hands settled on her flared hips and her arms went around his neck. She rested her head on his shoulder and they lost themselves to the gentle beat, the sweet melody and the powerful voice of the southern songstress. The other couples dancing around them faded to nothing more than ghosts. The disco lights dimmed and Will’s whole world consisted of only the song in his ears and the feel of Amy pressed up against him. Only the material of their clothes separated their bodies. If this song, this dance, could go on forever, Will could not conceive a better way to spend the rest of time. It felt so right holding Amy in his arms. He felt whole. Complete.

Her breath burned his neck and sent shivers down his spine. Her heart beat powerfully against his chest in time with his—as if they were somehow joined. As if they were one.
She sighed and sang along.
“It’s always been you,
And always will be, because,
You’re the only man I want,
And the only man I need.
You’ll be in my heart,
Eternally and evermore.”

She was singing to him. She was telling him what he wanted to hear. That he was hers and she was his and it would be like that forever. Eternally and evermore. But she wasn’t. Not really. He knew that. Just like he knew that she wasn’t really grinding herself against his erection. Even though it sure felt like she was.

She sighed again as the song finally ended. They parted and the world around them came back into focus and the people became whole again. She held his hand and looked at him with those huge expressive eyes, shining brightly and reflecting the disco lights, yet more violet now than he’d ever seen them and said, “Thanks. I enjoyed that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They stood awkwardly in front of each other as she swung his arm gently between them. Something had changed. That song, that dance had changed things. Will knew it had. He could feel it. He could sense it in his soul. He knew that if he stepped forward and kissed her, she’d let him. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He always said that she was his friend and he didn’t want to jeopardise that.

So instead he asked. “Want a drink?”

She looked downcast for the briefest of moments. But she brightened again so quickly that it could easily have been missed. The usual fire in her eyes—now back to their more normal shade of deep blue—burned brightly. “Yeah,” she said. “Let’s go get a drink. Then let’s see if the pool table is still free. This time, I swear I’m going to beat you.”

Friday House Guest - Does Age Matter by Nancy Lennea

2010-07-30T14:17:00.001+01:00

Please welcome Nancy Lennea to talk about that age old question – does an age difference in romance really matter?

*****

I want to thank Marc for having me today ‘from across the pond’. I am writing to you from the hot and muggy southeastern United States. I am thrilled to tell everyone around the world about my debut novel, SECRET LOVE MATCH. When Marc asked me to write an article pertaining to my book, age and romance instantly came to mind. I am a mature married woman, but that is not why I want to share my thoughts.

Let me tell you about what happened the first time I pitched my manuscript to an agent. My local chapter of Romance Writers of America regularly invites agents and editors to talk with us and this agent (who shall remain unnamed) gave me ten minutes to tell me about ‘The Hook, The Cook, and The Book’. I had not gotten two minutes into my talk when she said the age difference between my hero and heroine (and I quote) ‘was creepy”.

Again, I am a mature woman married 30+ years while she was 29 at the time. This New York agent did not feel my story line was realistic. She wondered how could readers expect anything romantic or a happily ever after ending between a 21-year-old tennis ace bent on a berth on the U.S. Olympic team and a 40-year-old former TV star?

I went home very discouraged and actually considered rewriting my story. Would it still work if I made Rebecca Delacourt older and Taylor Adams younger? Nope, doing so would change all the dynamics. The conflict would disappear and I saw no obstacles that would hinder them from forming a loving relationship except their careers. I LOVE obstacles!

Luckily for me, I had sent the manuscript into Red Rose Publishing the month before. I started and finished my next manuscript before Red Rose came calling. Seems they have a section of their mainstream romance catalog called Autumn Rose: this is where at least one of the characters MUST be over 40!

If anyone reads regency historical romances set in merry old London (I do!) the heroine is usually between the ages of 17 and 22 and the hero usually isn’t younger than 34. No one feels that is strange, so why did this particular agent burst my bubble? TV and movies show older men all the time and I hate to admit this, but 40 is NOT OLD! I make Becka and Taylor react to each other with volcanic heat while each knows they should not get together.

Life, irksome relatives, a kidnapping, a furious father, and the demands of both their dream occupations work against them until love wins. What do you, out there, think of all this? Does age matter in the real world? Does it matter to you?

Secret Love Match Blurb

Rebecca Delacourt has played and taught tennis for the last three years. At twenty-one, she knows what she wants. Without help from her wealthy parents, she buys a condo in Glen Cove, NY and plans to be on the Olympic Tennis team. She has no time for men, marriage, or children. Her mother gave up her acting career when she became pregnant with older sister, Laney, whose illegitimate son is mute due to recent emotional trauma. Rebecca still manages to squeak out some time for her charity work for breast cancer research in Baltimore every year.

Taylor, a former TV actor, notices Becka. She knows him—she’s dreamed of his TV persona for years. They meet at her parent’s country club. He thinks he’s found gold in the athletic blonde. After beating him at tennis, he meets her parents. Too bad he knows them—a former co-star, and the man helping get him auditions.

Her sister moves in—thwarting any privacy. She’s hiding out and is attacked. Taylor finds himself falling for Becka. Will he change his arrogant ways, save her nephew from kidnappers, and realize she’s the one? Becka wonders if dreams can still be reached with someone beside her. Will they reach their dreams together?

Nancy’s website: www.nancylennea.com Visit her blog for the latest news: www.nancylennea-inlove.blogspot.com.

SECRET LOVE MATCH is available now from Red Rose Publishing

Wednesday Words - “Heat Wave” By Patricia Pellicane

2010-07-28T20:41:00.001+01:00

Here’s today’s Wednesday Words excerpt. Enjoy.

BLURB:

Jebediah Knight, Arizona territory’s Marshal, is a big man. He’s come to Arizona City to take care of business. Once the job is finished, Jeb realizes he’s not ready to move on just yet. It seems a sweet, if cantankerous, little lady has caught his eye.
Lilly Willingham is annoyed to find herself partial to the giant of a man, but partial is as far as she’s willing to go. Without a doubt she does not love him and swears she never will.
The problem here is Marshal Knight isn’t the kind of man who takes no in stride. The little lady might act the shrew, but he knows the best use for that sharp tongue.

EXCERPT:

I’ll give you all the privacy you want. Most of the time, you won’t even know I’m here.”

Lilly laughed. “Right. And how do you imagine I won’t notice a man like you?”

“Meaning what? Am I too good lookin’ to escape your notice?”

“You’re too big. If I slept with you, I haven’t a doubt you’d leave me barely an inch of space. And stop fishing for compliments. I never give a man a compliment.”

He looked down at her with some surprise. “You reckon a man don’t need them? Is that it?”

“I reckon all men are a confident lot of ego hogs, and anything I’ve got to say could only swell heads that are already far too big.” She smiled sweetly, which didn’t fit her attitude at all and only caused him a huge grin. “After all, were that the case, you’d have to buy another hat.” She shrugged. “So don’t think of it as I don’t give compliments. Instead, you might thank me for saving you a passel of money.”

He chuckled at her outrageous reasoning. “I’m thinkin’ maybe I like a prickly little lady like you.”

“How nice for you.”

He chuckled. “You know givin’ compliments could swell other things besides heads,” he reminded, while pressing his hips to hers so she might know what particular thing he had in mind.

Lilly surprised herself with a girlish giggle. She hadn’t made a sound like that in twenty years and wondered at her sudden lighthearted mood. “That’s always possible, I suppose, but those things can usually swell without a word spoken.”

“You’re a sassy little lady, Miss Lilly. Lucky for you, I’m a bit partial to sassy ladies.”

She snapped a sarcastic, “Oh I’m very lucky, I’m sure.” And to his chuckle, she said, “Most around here think I’m nasty, hard-headed and a stubborn sort.”

“Are you?”

She shrugged. “I suppose I am, some.”

“Good. Nothing is more boring than a sweet-tempered, submissive, weak little miss.”

“Well, you came to the right place, if you’re not looking for sweet.”

“Still there’s sweet and then there’s sweet. Nothing could be sweeter than what you gave me in the kitchen.”

“Oh, I think we can do better than that,” she said as she shoved him to his back and, with their bodies still joined, sat upon his hips.

She was pulling at her clothes when he asked, “You lookin’ to show a man what you’re hintin’ at?”

“Was I hinting? Actually, I thought I was being exceptionally clear.”

Jeb grinned, a flash of white against black, whiskers, his dark eyes twinkling with pleasure as he watched her throw her dress and chemise over her head to drape over the bed frame. Next, the pins that held her hair in a knot behind her head were dropped to her nightstand and a dark cloud of silk floated to her waist.

“I have to move.”

“Damn,” he grunted as he watched her come to her knees and roll her stockings down each leg.

She was reaching for a shoe behind her, half turned from him, when she came to a sudden stop and asked very softly, “Where are my drawers?” When he didn’t immediately respond, she snapped, “Oh my God! Did you leave them on the kitchen floor?”

Heat Wave was released June 14, 2010 By Resplendence Publishing.

Buy it at www.resplendencepublishing.com/

It’s Who I Am

2010-07-23T11:15:00.001+01:00

If you follow my tweets, you’ll know that earlier this week I bought my son his first club football shirt. Not his first football shirt – I bought him an England shirt during the world cup – but his first replica shirt of a club team. That team being my team, Wolves.

Okay, okay, I know. Child cruelty, right? I’m setting him on the path of a lifetime of anguish and suffering following this team and he’ll probably never forgive me, after all, I still haven’t forgiven my dad for doing it to me (not true, there’s nothing to forgive. Some of my greatest memories are from games I’ve been to with my dad) – but this post isn’t about the importance of a son following the same team as his father. It isn’t about the unique feeling that comes with loyally following one team your whole life that you can’t truly understand unless you’ve sat in the stadium in the good times and the bad experiencing the same emotions as thirty-thousand other people.

It isn’t even about the joy and pride with which he worn his shirt to nursery and showed off his name on the back of the shirt. No, it’s about the name I’ve had put on the back of MY shirt.

As you can see, my shirt reads “Papa”. I’ve shown this photo to the girls at work, and those with kids smiled and went “Ahh, sweet.” But the twenty-two year old without kids called it “Cheesy”. Which I can understand. You see, you don’t know what kids do to you, and can’t understand, until you have them.

They say if you’re going to put you own name on the back of your shirt (as opposed to one of the team’s star’s names) then it must be your true identity. It must be who you are. So guys might put their nickname on the back – the one all their football loving mates use. Ten years ago, mine might have read “Knobbie”.

So is it any surprise my shirt today reads “Papa”? Because that’s who I am now. I’m not Marc anymore. I’m not Knobbie, or any of the other nicknames I’ve gone by in the past. I’m Jr’s Papa. That’s my role in life right now. And far from wanting to change it – I want everyone to know it.

Silly Woman or Dirty Thieving Bastard?

2010-07-22T15:19:00.001+01:00

I want to tell you a little story. It’s a true story, happened just this past week. I’m not going to use the real names of the people involved because that’s not my place, but the story is true. And I think it’s says an awful lot about the times we live in…

***Sarcasm mode on***

At a local secondary school, let’s call it Anonymous High, they have a policy in place for dealing with disruptive pupils – sorry, I mean, Challenging Young Learners – whereby those individuals causing the disruption can be removed from lessons and isolated. They are sent by the teacher, sorry, I mean Educational Professional, to, let’s call it Room X, where a Senior Educational Professional overseas the rebellious horde.

Good idea in principle, but the system relies on those pup… Young Learners being removed to make their own way to Room X. Given they are already in a rebellious mood, having caused the classroom disruption in the first place, this level of trust is perhaps somewhat misplaced. But anyway…

A few days ago, a member of the Educational Professional staff was having problems with a particular pu… Young Learner. Let’s call her Miss Naive and him Little Jonny. Miss Naive decided the best way to continue with her lesson was to send Little Jonny to Room X. But Little Jonny had other ideas. On his way to Room X – which was in a different part of the building – he stopped off at the staff room, which was unoccupied, found Miss Naive’s handbag, went through it and stole… sorry, borrowed, her mobile phone.

I’m sure he just wanted to scare her to get her back and had no evil intentions whatsoever. He probably just wanted to hide it and was going to give it back to her at the end of the day.

But…

On browsing the contents of Miss Naive’s snazzy smartphone – as you do – Little Jonny found several photographs of her in compromising positions and in most of them she was less than fully clothed. Well, what do you expect a Precocious Young Learner to do? He MMSed the photos to all the people in her address book – which included family members including her children, most of the other Educational Professional staff members including several Senior Educational Professional staff and some of the parents of pup… Young Learners in her form group. He then made sure to send the photos to most of his friends and upped them to a photo sharing website for good measure.

All of which was perfectly reasonable since Little Jonny thought it best that everyone possible knew the sort of things Miss Naive got up to in her private life – he thought the school could do without that sort of pervert teaching there.

And he got his wish. Miss Naive didn’t return to school the next week – handing in her notice in a telephone conversation with the headtea…, er, Managing Educational Professional.

And what do you think happened to innocent Little Jonny? He was handed a four day exclusion. FOUR WHOLE DAYS! For exposing the nasty slut to the whole school and her family. The Managing Educational Professional said he couldn’t allow the other pupi… Young Learners to think it was okay not to go straight to Room X when sent or to go in the staff room without permission.

***Sarcasm mode off***

Okay, so I hammed it up a bit, but the bones of the story are indeed true. A pupil at this local school did indeed steal a mobile phone from the staff member who’d sent him to the isolation room from her lesson and did indeed find compromising photos of her on the phone which he distributed to everyone he could in all digital methods available to him.

And then the only punishment he got was a four day - yes, I did say four day - exclusion. In effect, his summer holidays have started a week early. While the staff member is now seeking employment opportunities elsewhere having come to the conclusion in a conversation with the headteacher that her position in the school was irrecoverably undermined.

Does anyone else see anything wrong with this picture, or is it just me?

Okay, so said teacher was foolish to keep those photos on her phone and equally foolish not to ensure that her phone was secure from prying eyes, but still… I just can’t help but think that the person who has ultimately been ‘punished’ here isn’t the pupil that stole the phone, but the victim of said theft. And that, I’m afraid, just ain’t right.

The Curse of the 'Real' World

2010-07-19T21:51:00.000+01:00

Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated. I know it's been a while since the blog has been updated, but truth is that I've been super, super busy both at work and at home. Something had to take a back seat and it was the blog. Normal service may be resumed soon, but I'm going away on holiday in August, so unless I can work like buggery to schedule some posts in advance, there'll be another two week hiatus then.

I've got two more guest posts scheduled for the end of July/start of August, and after that my calender is clear. That's deliberate in my part. The guests have been a great success, but they have also been a lot of work. So I'm taking a break from hosting with a view to putting a new call out for guests later this year.

I'm also working on a book trailer for "Eternally & Evermore" which will go up on YouTube when it's done. But, a lot like the blog, time has been limited and putting the thing together is a slow job.

I'm going to go and do some writing now. I hope.

Wednesday Words - “A Touch of Lily” by Nina Pierce

2010-07-07T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today’s excerpt comes from Nina Pierce’s A Touch of Lily, which is published by Ellora’s Cave and is available now.

Here’s the blurb…

Ex-Chicago detective Lilly D’Angelo is part of a secret alien race living on earth. With a gentle caress she can elevate the sexual energy of any male. Apprehending criminals lost in an erotic fugue is almost too easy—until she uses her gift on the wrong alien. Kidnapped and shipped into deep space, Lilly barely escapes with her life. Now she travels the galaxy alone working as a bounty hunter and hoping to find a soul mate unaffected by her touch.

Agent Dallas Sawyer works for QAL—deep space’s version of the FBI. After a disastrous mission that left a president murdered, his team member executed, and Dallas near death, he’s determined to take down the assassin targeting government officials. When a sexy human female gets between him and his goal, Dallas and his alien partner find themselves on the receiving end of some wild sex and a proposition that may very well blow up in their faces.

Because in deep space … true love can happen with just a touch.

And here’s the excerpt…

Lilly D’Angelo could have been walking into any of the seedier establishments lining Forty-fifth and Wester on Chicago’s south side. Except for the clientele, the tavern’s owner had managed to replicate nearly every detail right down to the blue haze and the soft crooning of a jazz band on the corner stage. The acrid stench and gruff hum of a Friday night crowd tripped Lilly down memory lane—a place she had no desire to travel at the moment.

Lilly pushed the sour thoughts of home out of her mind and focused her energy on the patrons at the bar. Morphing her features into her sexiest vixen pout, she moved gracefully toward the long bar on the other side of the room. Her voluptuous breasts, spilling temptingly from her silk blouse, led the way. The eyes watching her ass sashay around the battered tables were clustered on various life forms—none of them human.

Yeah, definitely not Chicago. Shit, this wasn’t even Earth for chrissake.

“Regent’s ale, straight up, hold the brenic.” She spoke English, hoping the two-headed Xerick behind the bar had a cochlear translator in one of those eight holes that passed for ears. Satisfied when one head nodded, she settled on a stool, making sure her fur jacket and blouse parted enough to offer a seductive view of her cleavage. Lilly shifted just enough to let the black leather skirt ride up her thigh and expose a little more silky real estate. Surreptitiously checking her image in the mirrored glass behind the liquor bottles, she was pleased she looked every bit the part. She wasn’t trying to attract anyone in particular, perhaps something on the less offensive side that could offer her a bit of entertainment to help fritter away the next couple of hours.

Lilly wasn’t a xenophobic bigot by any stretch of the imagination. But six months in deep space, working these kinds of joints, wasn’t really long enough to become accustomed to the scenery. The Nebulae Galaxy’s spaceports overflowed with aliens of all sizes and genders. Only that wasn’t really a fair term here in deep space.

Alien inferred the life forms didn’t belong. On the contrary, it was humans who were invading their territory. The treaties of 2253, signed well over forty years ago, had guaranteed the safe travel of humans in deep space. After the snafu of ’34, which saw the first major space disaster since light travel had been discovered, humans had insisted on protection for their species. They’d formed some bullshit board of security, guaranteeing humans could run roughshod over the universe like everywhere else. Though most people referred to them as the QAL, Lilly nicknamed them the alphabet mafia. At one point she’d actually considered working for them until they’d discovered who she was—or more specifically what she was. It didn’t matter. They could all go fuck themselves if they didn’t appreciate her gifts. Lilly had found a way to use her talents and still bring down the bad guys.

Of course in deep space, bad was a relative term.

There was the kind of bad that got a person lost on the ice caps of Dallas Eight without a backup plan. Or the bad that forced someone to stow away in the engine room of a Drikspa alien tanker bound for unknown destinations, praying not to get caught. Or the bad that got a human female imprisoned as a sex slave on the mining colonies of Krystallos Three, hidden from even the long arm of the QAL. Lilly shivered at that one. Even her talents wouldn’t free her from that kind of torture.

She was just happy to be here on Garalon Five where bad meant nothing more than crossing paths with every brand of space pirate, ex-con or fugitive looking for a new start. As one of the more recent colonizations in the Nebulae Galaxy, the G-5 government turned their collective back on past offenses on other planets and allowed anyone to start a legitimate business. It’s what had brought her here.

Nina grew up in a house of readers. So falling in love with books was only natural. In her early teens she discovered love stories. And we’re not talking about the Judy Blume young adult stories. Nope, she cut her teeth on the queens, Danielle Steel and Nora Roberts.

Of course since then, she’s branched out to reading all kinds of genres from science fiction to mystery, medical thrillers to historicals and Nina has too many favorite authors to list. But through it all romance has remained her favorite genre. Now, reading about lovers isn't enough for her (though she still devours books). The characters of her imagination beg to have their stories told. Nina finally put fingers to keyboard... and a new career was launched.

A native of Maine, Nina resides in what she affectionately calls "the great white North" in potato country with my high school sweetheart and true love of thirty-four years, her three grown children and a menagerie of pets.

You can find all her books at http://www.ninapierce.com. And you if you want to follow her musings join her on facebook (http://www.facebook.com/nina.pierce) or twitter (http://www.twitter.com/ninapierce).

Ego-Search Turns up Unexpected Review

2010-07-05T17:06:00.001+01:00

Come on, admit it, we all do it. Every now and then we do a Google ‘ego-search’. That is, we put our own name into Google (real or pen names) and see what turns up. For the most part, we authors should find our own websites/blogs/facebooks/twitters at the top if the list, but you never know what might be on the second, third or fourth pages.

And the recent changes to Google, where you can narrow the search down to categories like ‘blogs’, ‘shopping’ and ‘discussions’ make for even more interesting reading.

Earlier today I came across this post by Roni Gehlke on Romance Book Scene from May 2009. Yes, last year. It’s a review of Lost & Found and not one I’d seen before. Roni gave the book three stars out of five and made some complimentary comments. But she also made some comments that I’d take issue with. Let me explain why.

Now, don’t get me wrong, a reader’s opinion is a reader’s opinion and they are entitled to it. Hell, if we all had the same opinion it’d be a very, very dull world. But in this case, Roni has done something that it seems a number of readers do – project the opinions of one of the characters onto the author and assumed they are his opinions. Which is very rarely the case.

A good author should be able to ‘get inside the head’ of his characters and write them in such a way that that character’s views sound convincingly like a real person’s views – even if those views are the opposite of the author’s views. In the same way that I can imagine, and hopefully convincingly write, what it’s like to have sex in the back of a limousine or be held at gun point even though neither of these things have happened to me, I should be able to write views that are racist, homophobic, or something equally unpleasant, even though they are not my views.

To quote from the review…

The book itself is well written. There are some wonderful erotic scenes throughout the story and the two characters are developed very well. The main problem I had with the book is more a matter of personal taste.

I’m pleased that Roni thinks the book is well written, Beth and Chris well developed and that the erotic scenes are good. And I’m pleased that she has admitted that what follows is a matter of personal taste – not all reviewers would have the good grace to do that.

But…

I like all genres of romance, but I don't believe that political agendas belong in romance. There was a scene in the book where I felt the author was just a little to preachy about the Iraq war.

First off, I don’t believe that Lost & Found does have a political agenda – at least that’s not how I wrote it. I used the Iraq War as a back drop to the story because it was contemporary and because it was dividing public opinion at the time. In retrospect, I should, perhaps, have invented a fictional war, but the war itself is not the point of conflict in the book. The point of conflict is the different views held by father and daughter about the son/brother and his reasons for joining the army in the first place.

The scene to which she is referring is one in which Chris and The Colonel (Beth’s father) have a confrontation while Beth is at work. It’s very tense. They are both very passionate. But that passion is because, in their own ways, they both care about Beth deeply. It comes out as an argument about the war, but read between the lines and you’ll see what it’s really about.

That said…

Chris’ views as he expresses them in the book are typical of the anti-war lobby here in the UK. They do argue that the war was more about oil than terrorism and they are pretty scathing in their opinions of George W. Bush. And Tony Blair, for that matter. But here’s the thing – Chris’ views and words do not reflect my views any more than The Colonel’s do.

For the record, I think that Bush and Blair both genuinely believed the reasons they gave for entering Iraq and removing Saddam Hussein from power at the time that they gave them and I wasn’t one of the millions that marched on Downing Street in protest. I think they both were led to believe by people they trusted that he was a genuine threat. I think it was a poorly executed war rather than an unnecessary one. The Iraq Enquiry currently taking place in the UK will shed light on its legality – so we’ll have to wait and see on that one.

But anyway…

Aside from Roni projecting a character’s views onto the author, there is something else that bothers me…

He was very insulting to our country and making a poorly chosen reference to our president.

Someone is a bit touchy, aren’t they? Okay, so I’ve admitted that perhaps I should have invented a fictional war – but if I’d have done that one has to ask if it would have had the same impact or indeed if it would have lessened the perceived political agenda (which wasn’t there anyway). But let’s face facts, no country is immune from criticism in fiction, and nor should they be. That’s the nature of free speech. And besides, I don’t think I did insult America. My treatment of The Colonel was pretty harsh, but he was the antagonist and it had to be that way. But look at my treatment of the funeral. Chris “had never seen anything like it” and was taken aback. That scene still stirs great emotion in me. I think it’s one of the best scenes I’ve ever written and I defy anyone to not put them self there, to hear Taps being played and to not feel the tears welling up.

My good friend and beta-reader is American - in fact, this book started out from an idea we kicked about together – and she didn’t feel insulted or that the country was insulted. I wonder, would Roni have felt I was insulting the country had I been American? Would she have reacted the same way? I can’t answer that.

There is a place for these kinds of storylines, I just don't happen to believe it is in a romance novel.

Okay. I have to say this. Who says there’s no place in romance for ‘controversial’ plot lines? Romance as a genre is not taken seriously by many critics and if that is to change then it can’t shy away from things like this. In my opinion, Romance is the ideal genre to tackle issues that make the reader think and examine and question their own views. Otherwise what we end up with is a host of copycat books where only the names and settings change but the basics of everything else stay pretty much the same. Formulaic books. Books that fail to challenge.

Now, if that’s what some people want to write and some people want to read, that’s fine. All power to them. Me? I prefer the challenge. To challenge and to be challenged. But that’s just me.

Once again, I’d like to thank Roni for taking the time to publish her thoughts on my book. Let me clear, Roni’s review didn’t ‘upset me’. I respect her opinion. She acknowledged that the book was well written, the characters well developed and the love scenes erotic. And, at the end of the day, those three things are what I strive for. The rest, well, that’s personal taste and cause for debate. I if I can get people talking too, so much the better.

Monday Morning Flash - “Say it with Flowers”

2010-07-05T09:00:00.000+01:00

It’s that time again. Is there a better way to start the week that with a little flash?

*****

Say it with Flowers

Kevin had been in the pub with his mates since finishing work. “Another one, lads? My shout.”

He staggered up to the bar, winked at the busty barmaid and ordered more beers. She flashed him her stunning smile in return. His mobile phone rang. He looked at the screen before answering. “Hey, Sally.”

“Where the fuck are you, arsehole? It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Eh?”

“We were going for dinner. At Chico’s. The posh Italian place.”

“Fuck, yeah. Sorry. I forgot. I’ll be right round.”

“No point. We’ve missed the booking. No blow-jobs for you for at least a month.”

“I’ll come round anyway. Pick up a pizza and a DVD.”

“All right. But get a good film, nothing violent. And no bloody pineapple on the pizza.”

“Sure.”

“And I’ll be expecting you to go down on me for at least an hour by way of apology.”

Kevin left the pub to calls of ‘pussy-whipped’. He stopped at the video store and rented a chick flick. At the pizza take-away, he ordered a chicken and mushroom special. His route to Sally’s took him past St. Gregory’s. There must have been a wedding earlier in the day, because a discarded flower arrangement lay in the church-yard. He checked no one was watching and then scooped up the bouquet. His beer-soaked brain told him Sally would be chuffed.

He was wrong.

After he’d given her the flowers, she went all cold-shouldered on him. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you know?”

Kevin shook his head. “Aren’t they nice flowers?”

“Oh, lovely. But you stole them?”

“How do you know?”

“Read the card.”

Kevin did. It read—Bye Mum. We’ll miss you.

Sally frowned. “How low can you get? Better make it two hours, don’t you think?”

Wednesday Words - “Agent of Mercy” by Betty Ann Harris

2010-06-30T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today’s excerpt is from Agent of Mercy by Betty Ann Harris. First, here’s the book trailer, followed by the excerpt.

Sam left the cottage again and walked in the direction of the hotel. The walkway skirted the beach and as Sam walked along he scanned the few scantily clad beach dwellers. His eyes were drawn to a woman’s figure as she stood at the water’s edge, her back to him. Her form was familiar, as was her hair as it flowed over her shoulders and billowed in the ocean breeze. It’s her.

Sam sat on a bench near the walkway with his newspaper in hand. With sunglasses on and wearing a hat, he could hide behind his newspaper if she walked in his direction and she’d think nothing of him, just another tourist. He watched her as she stood there. Suddenly, she turned to walk back to her beach chair. God, she’s gorgeous.

Sam was almost envious of Hunter, who would get close to her and make love to her. He couldn’t think about that. This is just a job.

Catherine sat down on her beach chair and removed her bikini top, taking in the sun. God help me. She glanced in his direction and he looked down into the newspaper. Sam was feeling a bit uncomfortable, the other beach dwellers had left and he and Catherine were the only two people in the area.

Sam got up to leave when his cell phone rang. The number of the incoming call was unfamiliar to him. He answered with caution. "Hello."

"Hello Sam, it’s me, Catherine."

Sam was dumbfounded, but quick thinking and calmly maneuvering out of dicey situations, were his trademarks.

"Well, well, you certainly played me for a fool, didn’t you?"

"It wasn’t my intention to play you at all. But I wasn’t sure I could trust you."

Sam, eager to find out if she intended now to be honest with him asked, "Where are you?"

"I’m not sure I can tell you that, yet."

"Then why are you calling me?"

"Because I… I miss you, Sam."

She ran her hand over her breast, as if she was imagining Sam touching her. As he watched her on the beach, topless, as she stroked her own breast, he asked her, "What are you doing?"

"You mean right now?"

"Yes."

"I’m thinking of you, touching me, your hands on me, gently stroking me."

Sam thought he’d go out of his mind, but restrained himself. "Well, perhaps if you tell me where you are, I could come to you and make your dreams come true. There’s no reason for you not to trust me. I want to be with you, Catherine. I don’t really care about the money, as long as we can be together. I don’t want your money, I want you."

"Sam, I care for you. You’re the only man I’ve ever really felt comfortable with. To be honest, I was afraid you were just trying to control me and if I had brought you with me, you might just use me. I was afraid of my feelings for you. In the past I’ve been hurt and used by men, including my own father. I’m sorry I thought the worst of you. Can you forgive me?"

Sam stood up from the bench he’d been sitting on. He felt as if he was being pulled apart, two men: one the FBI agent who would be responsible for bringing this woman down. A woman who had been abused by men and was only trying to start a new life for herself, albeit at the financial expense of Derek Simpson. The other man he was had sympathy for her, maybe a twinge of guilt. What actual proof was there that she was guilty of anything other than stealing money from extremely rich men? His whole body was screaming at him, his heart pounding, as his brain fought itself.

"Sam, are you still there?"

"Yes, I’m here."

"I’m in St. Croix at the Regency Escape Hotel.”

"I’ll be there tomorrow. What room are you in?"

"I’m staying in room 717. Please hurry. I need you, Sam."

*****

Agent of Mercy is published by Red Rose and available now.

Monday Morning Flash - “Retail Therapy”

2010-06-28T09:00:00.000+01:00

It’s Monday Morning so that means it’s time for some Flash Fiction. Enjoy.

*****

Retail Therapy

Mandy and I had an early night. We cuddled and caressed, kissed and licked. She handled my erection enthusiastically. I worshipped my goddess’s tits and fingered her slit to get her nicely juiced up. After five minutes (which is surely enough foreplay), I rolled on top of her and prepared to slip my boy home.

“No, Mike. I don’t feel like it anymore.” She pushed me back. “Can’t you just hold me for a while?”

“What?”

“Can’t you love me for who I am instead of what we do in the bedroom?”

“What?”

“You’re not in touch with my emotional feminine needs. Until you are, I can’t satisfy your masculine physical needs.”

I rolled over and went to sleep.

The next day I skipped work to spend some quality time with Mandy. We went into London, had a nice lunch, and then I took her to Harrods.

She couldn’t decide between two outfits. “What do you think? Blue or red?”

“Why don’t we get both?”

“Really?”

“Sure. And while we’re here, you’ll need new shoes.”

“I really love you, Mike.”

Mandy tried on shoes for over an hour. Then we went to the jewellery department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. She spotted a gold anklet that she really liked, too. She seemed close to orgasm from the retail excitement.

“I think this is all I want, for now. Let’s go to the cashier.”

“I don’t think so, honey.”

Her face dropped. “What?”

“Sweetie, you’re not in touch with my male financial needs. Until you are, I can’t satisfy your feminine retail needs.”

If looks could kill…

“Why can’t you just love me for who I am instead of the things I buy you?”

I slept on the sofa that night.

Six Sentence Sunday 27/06/10 - “Eternally & Evermore”

2010-06-27T09:00:00.000+01:00

Not surprisingly, today’s six sentences come from Eternally & Evermore. Why not surprisingly? Because release day is getting closer, that’s why.

Here’s one of the more dramatic scenes to whet your appetite.

“Keys,” Will said as they approached the car.

“William, you’re scaring me.”

“Keys!” She handed them over and he blipped the car open. “Get in, quickly. We need to get home - we’ll be safe at home.”

“Safe from what?” I hear you ask. You’ll have to wait for the book’s release in August to find out.

What more Six Sentence Sunday posts? Pop on over to the blog.

Keeping it ‘Real’

2010-06-26T09:00:00.000+01:00

I read three blog posts recently that peaked my interest and sparked this post. This one by Ed Magusson pointed me in the direction of this one by Jane on Dear Author and finally this one by Jean on All About Romance which is a blog I subscribe to. The first two talk about the ‘alpha-male’, Ed in ‘real world’ terms and Jane in terms of the romance novel. Jean then discusses heroines in contemporary romance novels.

It’s the two about the romance novel aspect that I’d like to respond to here, primarily because they both sum up my own thoughts on these topics and discuss aspects of character creation that I strive to avoid. I’d like, if I may, to discuss the points raised in the posts and refer them to characters in my own novels.

Let’s start with the boys.

In the past, I’ve avoided referring to my novels as having ‘heroes’, preferring instead to call them ‘male lead characters’ – very PC of me, I know. But the point I was trying to make in doing that is that I don’t think that my heroes fit the ‘template’ of a romance hero. I didn’t think of them as alphas. Of course, to qualify that, you really have to discuss what the term ‘alpha male’ means. Ed does this very well in his post in terms of real people we might meet every day, and under this definition my guys would all class as alpha. In her piece, Jane discusses what alpha has come to mean in the romance genre, and my guys don’t qualify under this definition at all. Why? Because Jane argues that the alphas you find in many romance novels today are “caricatures instead of characters”. She said,

In recent years, however, this reliance on a concept rather than individual traits, has homogenized the hero experience for the reader. Perhaps in an effort to create diversity, authors have tended to over masculinize the hero to the extent that we have caricatures instead of characters for heroes. In recent years, I’ve seen the romance alpha hero morph from tall, strong, and commanding to oversized, monstrous, and overbearing.

She then goes on to define aspects of this over-masculinised alpha-male which I’ll simply list here.

Controlling & Possessive
Physically Overpowering
Sexually Proficient
Contradictory
The Diminution of Women
Heroic

I’d have to say that this definition (apart from the last point) fits my antagonists more than it does my heroes - yes, I said heroes. I’ve dropped that whole ‘male lead’ nonsense.

If we keep this discussion to my novellas rather than my shorts, we have five heroes to discuss – Matt from Reunion, David from Charlotte’s Secret, Chris from Lost & Found, Adam from Kissed by a Rose, and finally Will from Eternally & Evermore.

CONTROLLING?

So, are any of these five controlling or possessive? In a word, no. Each one of them is desperately in love with his respective heroine but none of them try to control what she does. Matt has no choice. Kelly is actually more successful than him in her business dealings. If anything, from when they meet up again after the titular reunion, Kelly is the one controlling the relationship.

David is in an odd situation from the outset of Charlotte’s Secret. He’s married to his heroine’s sister – a situation which is somewhat out of his control. He does, however, manage to manipulate circumstances to his advantage. But making the best of a situation isn’t the same as being controlling, is it?

In Lost & Found it’s Beth’s father who is the controlling and possessive one, not her hero, Chris. And due to his young age and his heroine’s fame, Adam finds himself sweep along by events in Kissed – although don’t think this makes him a wimp. It doesn’t.

Finally, there’s Will – who you won’t have met yet as Eternally isn’t released until August. Will is perhaps the strongest of my heroes. He’s a partner in a law firm. He’s decisive. He knows how to take the lead. But controlling? No. Yes, he ‘rescues’ Amy from her situation, but he doesn’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to. No, that’s John’s role. Who’s John? You’ll have to read the book to find out.

OVERPOWERING?

I’m not even going to bother breaking this down. I tend not to do much physical description beyond hair & eye colour or generalities such as “Tall” or “Burley” in any case - I like for the readers to fill in the blanks - but in my minds eye, each hero sort of looks a bit like me. Maybe an idealised version of me, but me nonetheless. And I’m not prototypical romantic hero. I’m not ‘six foot ten and built like a brick shithouse’. Now, what my readers project on to my heroes I have no control over, but I’ve certainly never used descriptions such as “Club-like manhood”.

SEXUAL GODS?

Okay, so all my guys are good in bed. They’re romantic heroes, so to some extent they have to be. I mean, would my strong, independent heroines want a man who can’t make them scream his name? But in her post Jane talks about how modern alphas have had multiple partners and ruin virgins for all her future partners (not that she’ll have future partners after bedding the alpha).

In Reunion, Matt’s friend comments that the story Matt tells him of how he didn’t make it with Kelly when they were teenagers because his was too shy “doesn’t sound like you” and he makes reference to Matt’s ‘little black book”. So it’s clearly implied that he’s ‘living the single life to the full’. But it’s also been implied he’s been in love and had his heart broken more than once.

Charlotte’s David is married. And before that he was desperately in love with Charlotte'. Beyond that, there’s no discussion of sexual history. And neither is there any discussion of Lost’s Chris’ history – mind you, Chris and Beth met in an online forum and carried on as cyber-lovers with an ocean between them for over a year, so read into that what you will about Chris’ sexual exploits in the ‘real world’.

In Kissed, Adam is just nineteen – so how many partners could he have had? Still, what happens between when he arrives at university and when he first meets Chloe do hint that he’s not led a virginal life. Which brings us back to Eternally’s Will, how fell in love with Amy at fourteen, bedded her at eighteen, lost her at nineteen, fell in love and married someone else, got divorced an then… Oh, wait, am I giving away the plot here?

CONTRADICTORY?

The example that Jane gives is this

if the hero should be heroic, shouldn’t he be honorable? shouldn’t he refrain from leading young women into ruin? Shouldn’t he have the strength of character to resist temptation that could involve danger to the heroine? Shouldn’t he have the care to protect her from pregnancy and use a condom?

Essentially she’s say that if an alpha is overpowering, controlling and has multiple partners in the manner that would have a woman branded a slut, isn’t all this at odds with the very idea of him as a romantic hero. Is that the sort of man our heroine would actually want to spend the rest of her life with? And before someone pipes up and says, “You don’t marry alphas” let me point out that if a Happily Ever After doesn’t mean for the rest of their lives then we need to change the name. Perhaps "Happy Until the Alpha gets Bored.

I don’t believe that me heroes are contradictory. Matt scarifies everything for Kelly’s happiness. David moves heaven and earth to be with Charlotte and when her secret is finally revealed… well, he does the honourable thing. Chris crosses the Atlantic just to comfort Beth in her time of greatest need and Adam… Well, Adam takes everything that Kissed throws at him and still comes out smiling in the end.

What about Will though? Will is interesting in that he rides that fine line. There are times when you will questions his actions. There’s one particular scene where even his best friend questions the way Will taunts his nemesis. But even then, he’s still doing what he thinks is best for Amy. He still puts Amy’s best interests first. So no, not contradictory at all.

THE DIMINUTION OF WOMEN?

This is an interesting one for me. Why? Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a man. A man that has a certain… shall we say, fondness for the female of this particular species. I’m not ashamed to say that I’m a great admirer of the female form in all it’s shapes and sizes. Well, maybe all. But the point is that while I find the very diminutive Kylie Minogue very….

Sorry, what was I talking about? Oh, yes, I remember.

Look, Kylie and Kiera Knightly aside, I much prefer a fuller figure. In short, I like boobs and bums. Now there’s a blogpost all of its own. But because I like my real live ladies to have a bit of shape to them, so too with my fictional ladies. No, they’re not of porn star proportions, but you certainly couldn’t describe Kelly, Charlotte, Beth or Chloe as diminutive. Hell, take this line from Kissed in reference to Chloe…

The lads’ magazines worshipped her feminine curves— they had even voted her Britain’s sexiest starlet ahead of her waif-like rivals.

Of course, there has to be an exception and that exception is Amy from Eternally & Evermore. She is described as being “a little too thin”. When this sentiment is expresses, one of the characters responds with “how can you be too thin?” but there is a reason for Amy’s diminution and its a reason that is central to the plot of the novel.

HEROES?

All in all, my heroes are just that, Heroes. Each one in his own way and each one in a different way. But while Jane bemoans a trend towards a certain type of hero, I hope that I’m able to offer readers a little diversity. Something a little different. Romantic heroes don’t have to be ultra-masculine. But they do have to be somewhat alpha. It’s just that I’d go with Ed’s definition of alpha over the one Jane described. My heroes are ordinary, everyday men because ordinary everyday men can be heroes too.

Soon, I’ll do a post comparing my heroines to the ones described by Jean in her post on AAR.

Friday House Guest - "Building a Brand" by Lisabet Sarai

2010-06-25T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today’s guest if Lisabet Sarai. Please make her welcome.

*****

If you want to be successful in the highly competitive game of publishing (I'm told), you need to do more than just write good books and get someone to sell them for you. You need to “build a brand”. What does this mean? Here's a simple definition from Dummies.com:

When people hear your name, they conjure up a set of impressions that influence how they think and buy. Those thoughts define your brand.

For an author, having a “brand” means, first, that readers recognize your name and second, they have a clear and hopefully positive understanding of what you write that leads them to purchase your books. Popular authors like James Patterson or Stephen King have legions of readers who will buy anything they publish, sight unseen. Readers know what to expect from these authors. They'll pre-order a book before it's even released. The power of the author's brand trumps the quality of the actual writing.

In the world of erotic romance, Carol Lynne jumps out as someone who has been tremendously effective in building her brand. Carol specializes in steamy M/M stories, mostly contemporary and often with a western setting. She has a huge following of loyal readers although she has been publishing only a few years. All Romance Ebook's author of the year for 2007, Carol continues to put out best-sellers, month after month.

In the realm of erotica, I consider Rachel Kramer Bussel an example of effective brand-building. Pretty much anyone who reads erotica will be familiar with the dozens of anthologies she has edited, many focused on kink or fetishes. Rachel builds her brand not only through her publications but also through readings, parties and an amazingly active presence in the blogosphere. Just say “cupcake” or “spanking” to any erotica reader and Rachel's name is likely to come to mind.

So how does a poor aspiring author like me go about building a brand? The authorities I've consulted highlight three major issues:

Distinctiveness – Both your name and your work need to be sufficiently unusual to stand out from the crowd.
Value – You need to offer your readers good value for their money. You can't fake your way into effective branding, at least not for long. Especially when you're building your brand, every title you produce has to satisfy your target readers.
Consistency – Your brand controls readers' expectations. People who purchase Carol Lynne's books expect explicit M/M erotic romance. Readers who buy Rachel's anthologies expect playfully transgressive, sex-positive stories in which pleasure trumps more serious issues. For a writer, brand consistency encompasses both genre and style. If a book doesn't fulfill readers' expectations, your brand will suffer.

And there's the rub, for me. Consistency. I write all sorts of genres and heat levels. I write both erotica and romance. BDSM fiction was my first love but I've deliberately diversified. I've written contemporary, paranormal, historical, suspense and even a bit of science fiction; heterosexual, gay, lesbian, and ménage; dark, playful and comic. When a reader comes across my name, he or she isn't likely to have immediate expectations about content or tone. About the only thing that a reader can assume is that my work is likely to contain a lot of sex―but even that isn't guaranteed.

Distinctiveness isn't a problem. I happened to choose a pen name that appears to be unique. (I was trying for something that sounded foreign and exotic, to go with the exotic setting of my first novel.) Google my name and you'll find pages and pages of references to me and my books. It appears that in cyberspace, at least, there's only one Lisabet Sarai.

I'd like to believe that I'm set as far as value is concerned as well. I produce quality work, or at least I try, with original premises and engaging characters. Most of my work has received very positive reviews.
If consistency is required in order to have an effective brand, though, I may never succeed. I'm easily bored. I don't want to write the same sort of book over and over. I'm contemplating sequels to several of my novels and I'll be honest―I'm not sure that I want to return to the same worlds and characters for the duration of another book. I'd rather try something different―to stretch my abilities.

Obviously there are common threads that run through my work. I tend to write stories that have a strong sense of place and I frequently use foreign settings. My characters tend to think a lot―they're not usually action-hero types. In my stories, sexual identity tends to be fluid; it's common for a straight character to discover homoerotic yearnings or vice versa. Sex in my tales is often a revelation as opposed to just recreation. This is particularly true of sex that involves dominance and submission. Finally, I think it's fair to say that my style is more literary than popular (though I'm trying to diversify in this area as well.)

These kind of abstract commonalities aren't enough, I suspect, to bolster a brand identity. I'd be really interested to know what readers think when they hear the name “Lisabet Sarai”. Most probably, it depends on what (if anything) they've read. The trouble is that any particular book they've picked up will likely give them mistaken expectations for the next one of my books that they read.

I really don't know how seriously I should take this dilemma. Should I channel my writing energies into just one or two genres? If my goal were to support myself with my writing, I'd probably have to do just that. But really―I hate that notion!

So where does that leave me? Can I be a moderate success without building a brand? Can I attract a community of readers who appreciate diversity and don't mind having their expectations violated? I don't know. I'm curious to know what readers and other authors have to say on this topic.

*****

BIO: A dozen years ago LISABET SARAI experienced a serendipitous fusion of her love of writing and her fascination with sex. Since then she has published six erotic novels including the BDSM classic Raw Silk, two collections of short stories, and dozens of stand-alone tales in print and ebook formats. She reviews books and films for the Erotica Readers and Writer Association and Erotica Revealed and is the editor for the Coming Together Presents series of charitable single author volumes. Lisabet lives in Southeast Asia with her husband and felines. For more information on Lisabet and her writing visit Lisabet Sarai's Fantasy Factory (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) and her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).

Wednesday Words - "0 to 60 in 5 Minutes" by Jasmine Black

2010-06-23T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today's excerpt comes from Jasmine Black's "0 to 60 in 5 Minutes". Jasmine Black has been writing romances from her heart since 2005. Her stories don’t follow a cookie cutter pattern and the plots are all different as she lets her characters tell her where the story is going. She enjoys reading, computer games, and quite time. She also has a heart for charity, and you can find some of her stories in Coming Together anthologies—Against the Odds and Al Fresco.

http://excessica.com/store/catalog/product_info.php?products_id=365&osCsid=b1fefecdb0d14ada2d7af9e8fb2608c0

*****

Oh, he was perfect. His blue eyes had twinkled when she rubbed her foot on his muscled leg. He must have thought she was an easy score, but she had to know if his legs were as toned as his arms. Of course, they were.

His dimples were divine. For some odd reason, she loved a dimpled face. Her heart had flipped when she saw them. Two identical indentions on his cheeks. She wondered what his other set of cheeks looked like. How they would feel in her hands.

Slow down before you run him off. The advice might work in normal circumstances, but she didn't have time to slow down. She needed a boyfriend who all but lived at her house and had advanced to the meet-the-parents stage in a relationship.

After a deep breath, she gathered her nerve. "All you have to do is pretend you're my boyfriend and attend my high school reunion. Of course, we'll have to become very acquainted with each other, and we only have two weeks. Afterwards, I'll tell my family we broke up, and you'll get your grand."

He stared at her in disbelief. "That's all? I don't have to kill anyone or anything?"

She laughed, then stifled her amusement when she noticed his seriousness. "No. You don't have to kill anyone, physically. Emotionally, I hope my ex cries for days after he sees me in the best shape of my life and with a man sexier than he could ever hope to be."

Had she really told him he was sexy to his face? Minutes ago she'd scoffed at the hornballs in the room. Now drool threatened to drip from the corner of her mouth.

The coordinator's voice boomed over the microphone, "Switch."

Oh, no! Her time was up, and he hadn't answered. Months of searching for the perfect man and he was about to move out of her life. Well, maybe just move to the next table, but what if he found a better offer a few seats down? There were a lot of attractive women here tonight.

"Move buddy, I've been waiting to talk to number five all night." A man wearing a wife beater and ripped jeans nudged Noah over to the next table.

Noah inched over without answering her question. A lump formed in her throat. The man of her dreams… or lies, however you wanted to phrase it, left her waiting for his reply.

At Least We're Not As Bad As France - Dave Henson

2010-06-22T14:44:00.000+01:00

Just come across this and I had tears streaming from laughing so much. Really, Really funny.

Monday Morning Flash - “Pie Shop”

2010-06-21T09:00:00.000+01:00

Here’s another little bit of flash, which will I hope raise a smile this Monday Morning.

*****

Jack had spent a cold, damp, winter morning going from house to house trying in vain to sell windows. By midday, he was wet, miserable, and starving.

The estate he’d been working had a small shopping precinct at its heart. There was a butcher, baker, newsagent, chip shop, and a small Indian restaurant. There was a long queue in the chippy. Jack didn’t want to wait. He tried the bakers, but they didn’t have anything that appealed.

There was a sign outside the butchers. “Freshly made, hot meat pies - £1 each.”

“Sounds good,” said Jack.

He ran into an old man coming out of the butchers. He wore a wide grin and looked very satisfied. “The pies good then, are they?” asked Jack.

“Dunno,” said the man. “I went in for a wank.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“There’s a girl works here who gives great wanks. Only five quid a tug. She does it out back in the meat fridge. Sounds funny, but by God she’s good.”

Jack shook his head. “In there? In the butchers?”

“Yeah. And that’s not all. Tenner gets you a blow job, twenty and she’ll let you stick it to her. That’s what I do on Mondays, you know, when I get my pension.”

The old man walked away and Jack went into the shop feeling slightly bemused. There was one woman behind the counter. She wasn’t particularly attractive in Jack’s opinion, but who was he to judge.

“Excuse me,” he whispered. “Are you the woman who gives wanks for a fiver?”

The woman smiled. “I might be. Who’s asking?”

“I’m not the police, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“In that case, yes. I am.”

“Right. Well, wash your hands will you and get me a meat pie.”

Six Sentence Sunday 20/06/10 - “Eternally & Evermore”

2010-06-20T09:00:00.000+01:00

Yes, yes, I know, #sixsunday has been absent for a couple of weeks but it’s back and since today is father’s day, the six today - from Eternally & Evermore - have a fatherly theme. In fact, I’m offering up two sets of six to make up for the recent missed postings and both of them show how our hero, Will, feels about his daughter, Sophie.

In this first scene, Will is showing his friend Lizzie a photo of Sophie on his iPhone.

“Where is it?”

“At her thirteenth a couple of months ago. One of the few birthdays I’ve been able to get to, I usually have to make do with an early or late celebration. Some dad I turned out to be, huh?”

“I’m sure you’re a great dad.”

“How great can I be when I’m only part-time?”

In this second scene, Sophie, Will and Amy are at the bowling alley. Amy is taking her shot, leaving Will and Sophie alone.

“So, is she, like, your girlfriend or not?” Sophie asked as Amy started her run up.

“I told you, she’s a friend who staying with me for a while, that’s all.”

Sophie smirked. “I’m not, like, stupid or anything, Dad, this morning she came out of your bedroom wearing your shirt.”

Will started at his daughter, not knowing what to say.

“It’s okay if she is, I like her - she’s kinda cool.”

Eternally & Evermore will be released by Phaze books in August.

For more Six sentence Sunday posts, visit the blog.

Friday House Guest - “Inspiration’s In the Air” by Nina Pierce

2010-06-18T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today I welcome Nina Pierce to the blog.

*****

Isn’t it nearly the first question every author is asked, “Where did you find the inspiration for this story?” And the answer I always give is everywhere and nowhere.

Everywhere there are the “what ifs” around you. “What if a virus killed off nearly all of the human population?” (Healer’s Garden, Ellora’s Cave) “What if vampires had a secret society for policing rogue vampires?” (Shadows of Fire, Liquid Silver Books) “What if someone was a wolf shifter and didn’t know it?” (Bonded Souls, Ellora’s Cave) Okaaaaaay, so maybe you don’t ask yourself those questions, but that’s the kind of thing that rolls around in my head. I’m always imagining the “what if” of other dimensions or characters or places. From these odd ball thoughts the nugget of an idea forms and voila! A story is born!

Of course if your synapses don’t fire that way there’s always the overheard conversation at the grocery store between mother and daughter…

“Seriously Mom, he’s just, I don’t know, the same age as Uncle Todd.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that young.”

“But he’s my law professor.”

“And he’s very single and he has a great butt I might add.”

“Ewww. Definitely TMI.” (A pause.) “You’re seriously going to do this?”

“It’s just drinks honey, not a marriage proposal.”

Oh, yeah, that is definitely going to become a book some day. I just can’t resist the idea of a younger man with an older woman. And the daughter already gave me all kinds of information about the fact that the man is the same age as one of her uncles and then he’s her professor. Oh, the conflicts abound with just that snippet!

Inspiration also comes from my adventures in traveling. I had the pleasure of visiting Sedona, Arizona and going on a jeep tour over and around the red rock formations. Between the remote location and the stories of extra-terrestrials shared by our guide, I couldn’t stop my brain from running through all the possible romantic suspense scenarios. “What if they found a body?” “What if it’s an alien?” Man, I just went all over the place with ideas that day. And yes, I still enjoyed the tour, but mostly because our guide was a handsome character in and of himself with a rich back story of high school loves, alcoholism and divorce. (Which I got him to share because I’m that curious about people.) He’s going to show up in a story some day.

Then there are the story ideas that spring to me from the newspaper headlines (usually the suspense part of my stories) or the songs on the radio (the romance plot).

But those nuggets only get you so far. It’s from the nowhere of my imagination the characters start forming and their troubles begin to surface and before I know it I’m on the journey of discovering another story. And it is a complete discovery for me. I’m what authors affectionately call a “pantser”, which means I have no outline. No idea (or very little) of where I’m going or what’s going to happen next. It’s all very organic. But that’s a post for another day.

The point is inspiration is all around you. All you have to do is take a few minutes and truly look for it. So here’s a question for all of you … where do YOU find your inspiration? What makes your muse dance for joy?

I want to thank Marc for letting me take over his blog today. It’s been a lot of fun.

Nina grew up in a house of readers. So falling in love with books was only natural. In her early teens she discovered love stories. And we’re not talking about the Judy Blume young adult stories. Nope, she cut her teeth on the queens, Danielle Steel and Nora Roberts.

Of course since then, she’s branched out to reading all kinds of genres from science fiction to mystery, medical thrillers to historicals and Nina has too many favorite authors to list. But through it all romance has remained her favorite genre. Now, reading about lovers isn't enough for her (though she still devours books). The characters of her imagination beg to have their stories told. Nina finally put fingers to keyboard... and a new career was launched.

A native of Maine, Nina resides in what she affectionately calls "the great white North" in potato country with my high school sweetheart and true love of thirty-four years, her three grown children and a menagerie of pets.

You can find all her books at http://www.ninapierce.com. And you if you want to follow her musings join her on facebook (http://www.facebook.com/nina.pierce) or twitter (http://www.twitter.com/ninapierce).

They Grow Up So Quick

2010-06-17T15:36:00.001+01:00

It only seems like the other week that I was holding my newly born baby boy in my hands – so tiny & fragile & helpless. So utterly reliant on his mother and me.

But it was four and a half years ago.

Yesterday, Mrs Nobbs and I went to the new intake parents evening at Jr’s new school. We met his new teacher, ordered his uniform and PE kit, and signed him up for school dinners. I can’t believe it’s come along quite so quickly. He’ll be starting university before I know it.

But anyways. His teacher is lovely. Let’s call her Miss M. She can’t be anymore than 26 or 27. She’s blonde, petite and very, very pretty. Given that Jr is a bit like his dad and has a soft spot for small, pretty young blondes, I think he’s going to quickly become quite enamoured with her.

And his dad might just find inspiration for a new book. You never know.

Roll on September, eh?

Wednesday Words - “Exposure” by Lisabet Sarai

2010-06-16T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today we have not one, but two excerpts from Lisabet Sarai’s novel Exposure. Lisabet is a New England lass who’s published a host of books in all sorts of genre’s. And judging from the gallery on her website she a cat person. Exposure is published by Phaze and is available now in e-book and paperback.

Stella is just minding her own business and having a bit of fun, working as an exotic dancer at the Peacock Lounge. Through no fault of her own, she witnesses a double murder and gets pulled into a shady dance of deceit with political bigwigs, mob bosses, dirty cops and scheming widows. Now she’s everyone’s target; her only chance is to sift through the lies and expose the truth.

*****

Excerpt 1

I strip for the fun of it. Don't let anyone tell you different. It's not the money. I could make nearly as much working at the mill and keep my clothes on, but then I'd have to suck up to the bosses. Here at the Peacock, I'm the one in charge, and I like it that way.

Sometimes I think it's a sort of revenge, for all the times I heard those nasty calls trailing after me: Honey Jugs, Monster Boobs, Bouncer. Not to mention those sweaty, awkward clinches in back seats, trying to please. Trying to be popular. Now they can't take their eyes off my breasts, swinging back and forth in time to the music. Their tongues are hanging out. I can see the tents in their laps. They all want me; I know how to make them want me. I'm an expert. But I'm off limits. They can look, they can drool, they can beg me. But my job's to turn them on and bring them to the bursting point, then send them home unsatisfied.

That's my view, anyway. Some of the other girls think different. All in all, though, the Peacock Lounge is a pretty classy joint, not like some of sleaze pits down near the railroad.

I love the moment when the lights come down, and the DJ introduces me. There's this strange pause, as if I was floating. I can feel them out there, the audience, holding their breath. Then, I hear the first notes of my routine. Energy surges through me. I'm one hundred percent alive. My nipples get hard and my sex tingles when I step out onto the stage and meet their eyes.

That's my secret weapon: eye contact. Up close and personal. I can bump and grind, shake my tits in their faces, bend over so they get a good look at the G-string settled in my ass-crack. It doesn't do any good without my stare. I try to see their darkest fantasies. This one pictures me sitting on him, his mouth burrowing in my bush. That one wants me to hold his dick while he pees. That guy in the back, oh, he's bad news. He aches to tie me up and beat me with his belt. Tough luck, feller. Dream on.

I don't know whether what I see is real or just my imagination, but it has a real effect. They feel my eyes; they think I know them. They get all flustered and embarrassed, wave to me, stick their tens and twenties into my G-string. Watching me, anxious-like, all the time.

Meanwhile, it turns me on. I dance a lot better when I'm horny. Sometimes I play with myself a bit before my set, to get myself into the mood. Then I hold my fingers under their noses, and watch their reactions.

I feed off their desire. The more they want me, the hotter I get, the better I dance. The more outrageous I become. So, it's particularly annoying tonight that this one guy in the front row doesn't react at all.

*****

Excerpt 2

Ginger's routine is hot and raunchy. She wears an animal print jumpsuit, gold and black. She shakes her tawny hair around her face like a mane. The costume is all zippers. Little by little she sheds pieces of the skin-tight garment to reveal the real skin underneath, creamy dark brown, glistening with sweat. She's a jungle cat, sinuous, dangerous. I imagine I can smell the musk from way back here. My nipples tighten to aching nubs under my silk blouse. I squeeze my thighs together, creating ripples of sensation in my cunt that grow more intense the longer I watch Ginger's performance.

By the time she's finished, I'm actually panting. I'm amazed at my reactions. After all, I'm a professional. I know it's all show business.

Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's the after-effects from last night, the explosive sex cut short by terror. I don't care. I'm having a wonderful time. I'm glad I came.

Who's next? I wonder. Then the music starts, and it's like someone plunged a knife into my heart. Chris Isaak. "Wicked Game". My song.

Before I realize what's happening, I'm walking between the tables, making my way to the stage. It's like I'm in a trance. I climb the stairs to the platform, swaying already in time with the haunting tune.

The audience realizes that something odd is going on. The men fall silent, their eyes following me as I move dreamily around the stage. "Strange what desire will make foolish people do", the singer's hoarse voice croons as I slowly unbutton my jacket.

I shrug and it slips from my shoulders, making a green puddle on the stage. My blouse is beige silk, high-necked, buttoned up the back. My nipples poke lewdly through the fabric of the demure garment. I cup my breasts, slowly stroking my thumbs across the protruding flesh. Pleasure shimmers through me, sparkling in the shadowy chasm between my legs.

I scan the audience, but I'm not really seeing anyone. I'm not using the stare. I don't sense any particular person's lust. I'm just floating in the sea of their collective desire.

I turn my back on the audience, working the buttons of my top. My hair is coming loose from my business-woman's twist. Tendrils keep getting caught in my fingers as I struggle to release myself from the confining embrace of the silk.

Finally I get the last button undone. In triumph, I pull it over my head, turning to face the audience as I do. The clips holding my hair in place surrender completely. Black curls tumble over my shoulders, hiding my breasts.

I flick my hair back and smooth my hands over the satin of my bra, caressing the fullness it hides and constrains. The song rises to a climax. My sex spasms every time I stroke my fingers across the smooth, taut fabric. My tits ache for freedom, for nakedness. I reach for the front clasp of my bra, eager to release them.

"Stella!" I hear somebody call. There's a flash of light, then another. The spell is broken. "Stella!" Another voice takes up the call, and then there's applause, and raucous cheers. "Stella! We love you, Stella!"

I blink, confused, suddenly dizzy. Somebody grabs my arm.

Some Random Sexy Pics

2010-06-15T09:00:00.000+01:00

We all know that the internet is awash with erotic images. I read somewhere recently that something in the order of 90% of traffic on the internet is erotic in nature – although I don’t know how true that is. Okay, so most of what you come across is hard-core porn, but there are also a lot of very tasteful images around too. In fact, I’ve built up quite a collection over the years. Boobs, bums and the suggestive are my favourites. Below are a random selection from my collection and the reasons I like them.*

I love the ambiguity in this picture – or maybe I’m the on;y one that can see it. Those look like men’s jeans to me, but look closely at those underpants. Or should I say knickers. Lacy ones. Is it a man wearing women’s knickers or a woman wearing men’s jeans? Or am I reading too much into it.Either way, with the jeans being pushed down and the bed in the background, this is a sexy shot.

Did I mention I like bums? Nuff said.

Do I even need to comment on this one? I love that you can’t see faces. I love that it’s dark apart from the focus on the guy’s back and their limbs. I love that she still has her shoes on – and that we can’t she if she’s got anything else on. It’s just very sexy.

I’m not quite sure what it is about this particular shot that I find quite so sexy. I just do. Yes, there’s the bum thing again, but it’s more than that. Perhaps it’s the stark contrast between the white background and the girl. Perhaps it’s what I read into what she’s doing – is she waiting for someone, thinking about someone, what? I love it.

So, what do you think of my choices? I’ll see if I can rustle up some more for next week.

Monday Morning Flash - “Lover’s Lane”

2010-06-14T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today’s flash is a fun little piece. It may or may not have been inspired by real life. :-)

*****

LOVER’S LANE
(295 words)

Mark, Benny and Jim watched Steve and Julie at the bar. “Don’t know why he’s bothering. That girl’s a slapper,” said Mark.

“Easy shag,” said Jim.

Steve and Julie headed for the exit.

“Hey, Steve, you off to Lover’s Lane?” Mark called.

“I’m gonna show Julie my new sound system.”

“Yeah, right. A likely story.” Mark burst out laughing.

Two pints after Steve and Julie had left, the three friends were depressed. “Why does Steve always get the birds?” Jim asked.

“Must be his winning smile,” said Mark.

“Hey, I got an idea,” said Benny. “Let’s go ruin his lovin’.”

Lover’s Lane was a ten minute drunken stagger away. Steve’s Ford Escort was parked there. The lights were off and it rocked gently. They sneaked up to the car and peered inside. Julie’s legs were wrapped around Steve’s waist. His bare arse bounced energetically.

“Knock on the window,” Benny whispered.

“I ain’t. You do it,” said Jim.

“I’ll do it,” said Mark. He raised his fist to strike the window.

“‘Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello. What do we have ‘ere, then?”

Mark turned around. Touch light shone in his eyes.

“I caught me some doggers. Oh, the sarge is gonna love this.”

“Wait,” said Mark. “He’s our mate. It’s just a practical joke.”

“Course he is, Sonny-Jim.”

“Ask him.”

The copper knocked on the window. Steve looked around. Julie screamed and tried desperately to cover up.
“‘Scuse me, Sir. Miss. These perverts claim you know ‘em.”

Steve looked at his friends. Mark silently pleaded with him. Steve shook his head. “Nah. Never seen ‘em before in my life.”

Friday House Guest - Viviane Brentanos

2010-06-11T09:00:00.004+01:00

Today's Guest is Viviane Brentanos - A fellow Brit who is lucky enough to life on the gorgeous Greek island of Corfu.

*****

Hello, good evening and welcome from sunny Corfu and a huge thank you for Marc for allowing me the opportunity to rant and ramble. Before I rant, a little about myself…

I was born in Reading UK in 1958. My father is English and my mother is French although there is a strong vein of Spanish on my maternal grandmother’s side. I was educated at various schools before completing Sixth Form College at St Peter's Huntingdon. I somehow managed to collect A levels in English, French and History and I subsequently won a place at Sheffield University where I decided to read Classical Civilization. Once there, however, I decided that I had had enough of the academic life; I found the student mentality rather false and having been brought up in student circles, rather boring. Much to my mother's horror, I gave up my studies and went to London to begin a course as a Canine Beautician.

In 1984, my first husband and I parted ways amicably and I decided to visit the Ionian island of Corfu to celebrate my new freedom. It proved to be a life-changing decision. I still remember to this day, sitting in a café-bar, overlooking the crystal clear azure sea and saying to my friend. "I never want to leave here". And here I still am.

Before you all sigh and say…ah, Shirley Valentine, it wasn’t like that. I came to my beautiful Greek island in 1984 to work.

I am often asked why I don’t write about my life on Corfu. I think people are laboring under the misconception I live in eternal paradise; a life of endless sun, sea, sand and cocktails on the veranda. I hate to shatter any illusions, but it isn’t quite like that.

Thing is, most of the girls who came out here, ended up marrying a Greek and, subsequently, marrying into the Greek way of life. We work, we cook, and we worry over rent, taxes. We bring up our kids, we suffer and stress over their exams, (you wouldn’t believe how tough the education system is here) and their future. Not very glamorous, is it, and most certainly not the stuff of romances. Sorry, ladies. Greek men drop their smelly underwear everywhere also. Not one Gerry Butler 300 to be found.

But – and it’s an important but – what we have here in Corfu is a glorious sense of freedom, the freedom to breath in good clean, sea air. The freedom to state what is on our mind without fear of the politically correct police jumping all over us, freedom for our kids to walk the streets of Corfu town safe, happy and secure. Greece is more than a country. It’s a state of mind. A nation of passion, love and exuberance, a country to holds on and is proud of his history and traditions. No – it isn’t quite paradise. There is so much that needs fixing. We are in the midst of an economic crisis but the Greeks have heart and solidarity second to none.

And let’s not forget the stunning beauty of my enchanted island. Even after 26 years, it still takes my breath away. Actually, I am beginning to think the Greek tourist board should pay me.

So… my writing. After all, that’s why I am here. I have been writing romance since my early teens, mostly for my own satisfaction and for my friends but now I really want to work at it. Writing has become my passion. I have always been a "Romantic", often accused of not living in the real world but who wants to do that? I like to call my work Romance with a quirky, humorous Brit twist and I am always striving to make my characters real, characters we can all relate to. I am fortunate to have two novels published: Letting Go – The Wild Rose Press, Dreamweek – Red Rose Publishing and a further two under contract but more about them in a minute.

Back to my earlier point. While I have no desire to write about the life and times of an ex-Brit on Corfu, my island has provided me with so much of my inspiration: stunning visuals by the bucket full. Dreamweek and Fragile Dreams are both set on the imaginary island of Kuros. Why didn’t I just use Corfu? Simply because I wanted poetic license.

What I have done is draw on my experiences as a travel rep to provide many of the comic anecdotes in Dreamweek. Fragile Dreams is a little darker in tone. It touches on the subject of mental cruelty (a subject I also touch on in Letting Go) and the culture clash that I am sorry to say is much present in some of the Anglo/ Greco marriages I know of. I am not even sure if cruelty is the right word. Cruelty implies intent. More often than not, it is a simple case of lack of education and inherent intolerance. The irony of it all is that the young Greek women would never put up with the bull I know too many of my Brit counter-parts have to deal with. Why do they do it? I truly believe too many young girls were running from something back home. Too many sacrificed personal freedom for a big house, nice clothes and healthy bank-balance. Sad but true. Heavy stuff for a romance? Maybe but while a good healthy dose of glamour is injected into my tales, I like to balance it with a refreshing, ice-cold bucket of reality. I digress again.

Dreamweek is currently on release through Red Rose Publishing in digital form. I am hoping to see it in print soon. Fragile Dreams, its sister, has a release date set for September 16. 2010.

And if this is not enough to keep my little promo legs a running, I am delighted to announce my single title contemporary, Written in Stone, is contracted to the new and very exciting publisher, MuseItUp Publishing under their MuseItHot division. Written in Stone is one tale not set on a Greek island but it is a tale dear to my heart. The theme is simple. We must learn not to place people in convention’s tightly packaged boxes. Love is more than about sexual orientation. It should be and can be about the joining of minds and soul.

http://corfu-author.tripod.com/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErFCzdFawZA

Meet Don Luis de la Costa

2010-06-10T12:55:00.001+01:00

Today Don Luis de la Costa settles in to tell us a bit about himself and his books.

*****

My “normal” milieu is difficult to define. One of my all time favorite stories has been a riotous biker adventure story that spans a week of travel as they traveled toward an annual festival buried somewhere in the warmer, more favorable climes of the Southern region of the country, and all the drama that ensures. STARbooks Press also put out my second novella, Men, Amplified, whose central character contains many of my own personality traits, and a few actually personal experiences. Conversely, the two pieces of that I imagine have garnered the most attention – Battery Drain and Mission First – are more Kafka-esque sojourns through syllogistic science fiction logic, and for those perhaps you’ve heard my name. Recently, however, I’ve branched out, or, more specifically, managed to find acceptance for, a few pieces that are clearly outside of what one might consider my ‘normal’ experience: in the paranormal venue.

The first of these to see the light of day was a girl/girl vampire piece accepted by UK based Xcite Books for their “Spirit Lovers” anthology. The second, and much more central to the them of this post is a self-published anthology that includes pieces which either represent or cut across genre and gender lines: “Mythos” which comprises stories loosely based on the action in Alice in Wonderland, Clash of the Titans, and a few other classic mythological themes, which you can find on my Amazon Author’s page.

Self publishing is a concept that has, continues to, and for the foreseeable future will receive a great deal of attention in the media related to the publishing industry for the very same reasons that green energy startups get blasted by those in “power” (most specifically, those producing power): the big fish want to remain the big fish, and not be reduced to the status of guppies, even though, from a strictly Darwinian standpoint, the guppies may be better adapted to a new environment.

Allow me to stop here, for a moment, and share a maxim from Spanish which is one of the guiding principles of my own writing: “Es mejor no escribir nada, que aumentar el número de libros malos que hay en el mundo.” Quite literally – “It is better to write nothing, than to increase the number of poorly written books in the world.” Also permit me to offer my extensive memory of having read a great deal of poorly penned purportedly Pulitzer prize potentials pitifully packaged and portraying paladin-style physiques Photoshopped into the front cover. Almost to a one, they are from larger presses, and it is bothersome to consider the concept that these pass for a section of ‘literature’ which should contain every respectable property of a mainstream work of fiction, simply with a bit of erotic content added. Beyond that, there are some startling new talents whose sole mode of expression, despite there being an actual dearth of authors writing for the bigger houses who can produce desirable material. The rise of what is affectionately termed ‘urban erotica’ – stories whose basis is American big city life, can but does not always include elements of gang activity, and frequently focuses on underrepresented communities, which appeals to a certain cadre of folks, initially began as a few unique authors with self styled covers, hawking their wares on the city streets, until suddenly several publishing houses had to acknowledge the fact that these were credible revenue streams.

So what is the point? You may ask. Publishing your works has been notoriously difficult over time, at least, until the advent of Web 2.0. I would posit that push button publishing platforms have, as a secondary effect, created an entire strata of folks who fancy themselves ‘writers’ simply because they have the immediate validation of seeing their words online, and so begins the conflict. Does participation in social media, logorrheic journal writing, and 140 character short messages necessarily a writer make? I am, for better or worse, a proud member of the partition that thinks not. However, that doesn’t mean that self-publishing using the widely available platforms (CreateSpace, Smashwords, etc.) can’t work. Get a hold of a writer’s group that can review your work, join the discussion groups inherent to the platforms mentioned above, and a beyond that, re-read your story and see if it makes sense, because we are all legends in our own minds – especially me. Inform yourself of the perils and the benefits, Mitzi Szereto has written a few interesting blog articles regarding this, to which I have commented on occasion, but there is wide writing on the topic. Also, don’t forget about the legal implications, consult others who have done it, or find legal advice where you can, and don’t be afraid to pay for good advice. Whatever your message is, make sure it is one that engages, is clear, entertains, and is communicated well within the pages of your story, and uses language appropriate to the telling, then go about the design and implementation phase, which is very much going to be a whole different ball of wax (and for which you may also need to bring in help) but is not an entirely untenable situation. Lastly, have fun with it! This is your work, after all, and it needs all the love, sweat, and tears you put into the story for the package. If you simply see the process as a process, a means to achieving an end, it will go much smoother.

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Don-Luis-de-la-Cosa-author/252258166023

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

Wednesday Words - “Eternally & Evermore”

2010-06-09T15:00:00.001+01:00

I’ve been a bit absent on the blog for the past couple of weeks – luckily I’ve had my guest posts to keep things ticking over. I’m working on a few what I hope will be interesting posts and I hope I can get one of those up tomorrow, but in the mean time I’m serving up an excerpt from my summer release, Eternally & Evermore.

*****

“William! Oh my, God! It’s really you!”

Will turned towards the voice just in time to be crushed in a bear hug. Amy held him so tightly he could hardly breathe. He gasped for air when she finally let go.

“Sorry,” she said as she ran her hands down his arms to take hold of his. She stepped back, pulling his hands away from his sides and looking him up and down. “It’s just... It is so good to see you.”

“It’s good to be seen.”

“I’ve missed you.” She hugged him again. “Missed you so much. I wish we...” She stepped back, and held his hands again. “No. No. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Dwell on the past. You’re here now and that’s what counts. So what if we lost twenty years.”

“It’s no time at all really.”

She smiled the smile he remembered from his youth that could light up a sports stadium. It spread from her lips to her eyes and her face flushed as she swung his hands gently and shook her head. “Well. Look at you. All grown up and sexy.”

“And nearly bald.”

“Bald is sexy. I like bald. Sign of virility.”

“So I’ve heard. But look who’s talking about sexy.”

“Me? No. I’m old, fat and ugly.”

“You’re a woman in her prime. And I’ve seen more fat on catwalk model.”

“Liar. Look at me. I need to lose at least a stone. And I look ancient.”

“You look wonderful. Can I get you a drink?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“What would you like?”

"I'll have a Champagne Supernova."

Will nodded to the barman.

“Ice, Madam?”

"Of course."

Her voice was subtly different from what he remembered. She still had the melodic tempo that Walminsterals were famous for but her rich tone was deeper, more coloured. Will leaned against the bar and drank her in. Her golden hair was folded up high on the back of her head except for two thick strands which hung down to frame her face. She wore an elegant long dress of dark blue velvet that matched her eyes and clung to the gentle curves of her slender hourglass figure.

“You’re staring,” she said.

“I can’t help it. You’re even more beautiful than I remember. More elegant. More like a lady.”

“Flatterer.”

“Always.”

The barman placed Amy’s drink on the counter. Will picked it up and handed to her than paid the barman. He held up his own glass of Scotch. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” She sipped her drink then stepped forward and put the glass back on the bar. She placed a manicured hand on the lapel of his suit, brushed away some imaginary dust and then straightened them. “Nice suit.”

“Italian.”

“Armani?”

“How did you know?”

“Good guess. I had a feeling you’d choose designer and you never struck me as the Gucci type.”

“You always knew me better than I knew myself.”

She half-smiled. A sad smile which hinted at regret. “Maybe I did.” She sighed. “You’ve certainly done well for yourself from what I’ve heard.”

“In some ways. My career, I guess.”

“And love?”

“I’d hardly call a thirty-eight year old divorcee a success in love.”

“How long were you married?”

“Seven years.” He shrugged. “Not long is it?”

“It can’t have been all bad.”

“It wasn’t. We had some good times. And, of course, if I hadn’t been married, I wouldn’t have Sophie.”

“Your daughter?”

He nodded. “She’s amazing. She was just five when Lynn and I split up and a parental divorce is supposed to screw kids up. But she’s the most unbelievably down to earth girl. I don’t know anyone who’s got their head screwed on quite as tightly as she has.”

They had wandered away from the bar as they talked and arrived back at the table Will had been sitting at with Bobby earlier. Amy sat and crossed one leg over the other. This opened the slit in the side of her dress, revealing her black nylon covered leg. Will sat next to her and tried hard not to stare.

“Enough about me,” he said. “What have you been up to all these years?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“Did you ever graduate?” The last he’d heard, she’d been struggling with her course at Westmouth University and considering dropping out.

She shook her head. “It wasn’t for me. I tried. I really did. But, honestly, after we... After us, I lost motivation.”

“So you went back home?”

“Yeah. I have a small unit in the Parkway Centre.”

“Selling what?”

“Ladies fashion.”

“Nice. Business good?”

She cocked her head. “So so.”

“You found him then?” It was Lizzie. She sat next to Amy and placed her half full glass on the table.

“He was propping up the bar, looking lonely.” Amy grinned.

“So you thought you’d keep him company. You are such a saint.”

“Heaven sent,” said Will.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Listen to him. Was he this much of a smooth talker when we were at school. I don’t think he was.”

“No,” said Amy. “He was a nerd. But he was my nerd.”

“Should I leave you two alone to talk about me?”

“No need,” said Lizzie. “We can talk about you just as well when you’re here.”

The music faded out and the DJ announced that the band was about to take the stage.

“These guys are great.” Lizzie said. “Local boys. I was lucky to get them—they were booked up but had a cancellation.”

Amy picked up her glass and drained it. “Come on.” She stood and held her hand out to Will.

“What?”

“I want to dance.”

“Should you?” Lizzie asked. She sounded worried.

“It’ll be fine,” Amy replied. “It’s only a dance.”

Will drained his glass too and allowed Amy to lead him to the dance floor. During the hour long set, the band played a mixture of fast and slow songs, allowing Will and Amy to hold each other close for a few dances. They went to sit back at the table when the band took a break. Bobby and Julie were sitting there with Lizzie.

“Hi, Will,” Julie said. “Looking good.”

“You too.”

“Thanks, even though I know you don’t mean it.”

Will opened his mouth to say he really did mean it, even though he didn’t but Bobby piped up instead.

“You were busting some funky-arse moves out there, mate.”

“Yeah, right. I was dancing like my dad. It was embarrassing.”

“At least you were dancing,” Julie said with a pointed look at her husband. “Some people won’t dance at all.”

“Hey,” said Bobby, holding his hands up in defence, “I just didn’t want to show any of you up. You know, with me being such a great mover and all.”

“Didn’t want to show yourself up as a freaky dancer,” said Lizzie.

“Whatever,” said Bobby. “Who wants another drink?”

Bobby took the drinks order and Will decided to take the chance visit the lavatory. He was standing at the urinal when a voice from behind him said, “Well, well, well. I really didn’t think you’d have the bollocks to show up.”

Friday House Guest - “My Publishing Journey” by Rebecca Savage

2010-06-04T09:00:00.000+01:00

Please welcome today’s guest, Rebecca Savage.

*****

An avid reader can become a prolific writer. Such is the case with me. I started out in my teens reading Louis L’Amour. I have one hundred ninety of his paperbacks and fifteen of his books bound in leather. I read them all, loved them and saved them. I only read one romance during my teens, titled The Daring Deception. Lately I’ve tried to find it so I can buy it, but I haven’t been successful in my attempt to locate it. I only want it for nostalgic purposes, since I had no idea I’d eventually become a romance junkie and writer. In essence, that book was my romantic beginning.

I never read another romance until 2003 when I graduated with a Masters in History and decided to read something for fun. A friend of mine always carried a romance novel in her purse and read constantly. I borrowed a couple of books from her, and the rest is history. I was hooked.

I read all kinds of romance, but only write contemporary suspense/intrigue. I had a top secret clearance in the Air Force when I served as a Morse Code operator/supervisor, so I seldom have to research, yet. I’ve done a bit of digging to confirm things I already suspected to be true, but mostly I write from experience or imagination and stick to the facts as much as possible.

I read books from August 2003 until May 2004, and I was lying on the couch reading one day and thought, “What would I write if I wrote a book?” I like action movies that make you think, a story with a good plot with a hero and heroine trying to figure out what’s affecting their lives, bringing them together, and pulling them apart. I started there. I decided to write a suspense/mystery, since neither the reader nor the characters knew who was after the hero/heroine, although sometimes both the reader and characters do know who the villain in my works is, but the villain is allusive.

So, all those books I read, and still read, were a learning process, just as everything else in my life has led up to where I am now. I was a good student, a good military leader, a good reader, and I hope I’m a good writer. Only time and sales will tell.

I wrote a trilogy in summer 2004 while off for the summer from teaching. I wrote another trilogy in summer 2005. I joined RWA in October 2005, after searching for a publisher on the internet and seeing advice to join organizations like RWA and local chapters. That’s how I ended up at CRW, but not until March 2006. Teaching slowed down the process. Darn those daytime jobs.

CRW taught me so much. My first meeting I learned writing is a business and how to write a query/synopsis. I had no idea there were such things. I also learned how extreme the competition is. I had no idea so many writers existed and wanted to be published or what a game it is. I learned it’s all about persistence and taking the steps to get there. I also learned I’m a fly by the seat of my pants, character driven writer, not a plotter.

After joining RWA/CRW I went back to those first six novels and began self-editing based on things I learned about craft: voice, passive, throw away words, POV, etc. I started submitting to agents, editors, and publishers. I took any and all advice from the rejection letters and fixed anything I was told was wrong.

I didn’t start working with Critique Partners or judging or reviewing for magazines until this year(2007). I wasn’t ready, even though I might’ve thought back then I was. I had to climb the ladder. I had to learn craft and even technical programs. I had no idea what track changes on Microsoft word was. I know. Seems silly, huh? Like everyone should know these things.

When I first started coming to meetings, I thought I was so writing illiterate, and I was. Terms most writers are comfortable with totally escaped me. I didn’t know what POV was, or lots of other things. I didn’t go to college to be a writer. I wasn’t an English major. I’d never been a journalist. I worked on a Masters in History. So my background was foreign to what most successful writers have under their belts.

That didn’t stop me. I just kept plugging along. I had no idea how long it’d take. I thought I’d submit and get published. End of story. Boy, what an eye opener the past few years have been, and when I moved from South Carolina and could no longer attend CRW meeting, I joined MORWA in St. Louis, Missouri.

I landed in a few writers’ woes and pitfalls along the way, but my writer friends have shown me the right way to do things. I submitted to an online agency, and it turned out to be bogus. I paid eighty dollars for my stuff to be looked at, and they tried to weasel me out of more. Thank goodness CRW stopped that mistake.

So my fist pitfall was a hoax agency, and then I contracted with an e-publisher that went out of business, but just kept my work and didn’t tell me anything. Come to find out, my editor was holding my ms, and after the ninety days – thank goodness for that clause – she emailed me and told me of the issues within the company. That company no longer exists.

I was allowed to pull my work from their company and resubmit elsewhere. I did. I got a contract for the trilogy I penned in 2005. I signed with The Wild Rose Press: Fueled By Instinct, Cloaked In Assassination, and Destination Ever After. My other trilogy wasn’t ready yet. It was my first attempt at writing, and I’d worked on it, but it took a lot more tweaking to ready it. Now I’ve published it with Champagne Books, and the first book released in January 2009 and made the bestseller list for February 2009 and is listed as Best Book: Coincidence, Combustion, and Consequences are the three titles in that trilogy. I also have a book published by Double Dragon/Carnal Desires: Guard My Baby.

In the meantime, I wrote another story in 2006 after joining CRW. I submitted to Harlequin and was asked for a full ms. The editor liked it, but not enough. I sent that story to an agent, along with a note saying Harlequin asked for a full. When Harlequin rejected, she did, too, but she asked to meet with me in Dallas at nationals.

I wrote another book after RWA nationals and submitted it to her. She liked it and asked for me to fix a couple of things. I made the changes and resubmitted. She asked for one more thing. I fixed that, too. She asked for one more thing, and I’m in the process of doing those changes now and will resubmit soon.

In other words, it’s all about not giving up. I suppose there’s a time to quit, but as long as a writer is not at a stand still – work on something else while going through the process of one edit – then it’s not a bad thing to take awhile working and dealing with a possible agent/publisher.

*****

“Guard by Body” by Rebecca Savage

Blurb:

A hard core CIA covert ops expert like Nash Kincaid takes everything seriously, especially his mission to retrieve classified information from his contact, take it to the right people, and stop the deaths of thousands of children at the hands of home-grown terrorists.

A librarian with a wild side could throw a ringer into his plans, but Ayden Devlin takes most things seriously, too, even when she decides to live out the lives of the characters in the books she reads by helping her sister Leigh, a spy for the CIA. She lets Leigh insert classified information into her mouth where there’s a missing tooth, so she can safely transport the info to Nash.

Nash and Ayden meet in a biker bar, and a hit man tries to kill Ayden. Nash throws his body in the path of a bullet to save her. A bullet grazes Ayden’s head and knocks her out cold. When she comes to, she and her rescuer have to establish trust. They don’t know each other, and the mission has gone awry. It takes time to convince each other of their respective honesty and identity.

It takes no time at all for them to realize they’re hot for each other, and not much more time to realize it’s more than heat. Love blooms, stoked by building passion, the flames rising higher with each new dangerous encounter.

Will they survive to share their love and lives?

***

Excerpt:

Who the hell sends a librarian to do the job of an undercover CIA agent?

Covert Operation Expert Nash Kincaid - at least that's what his latest passport said - sat in a seedy biker bar, sipping on his tap beer, waiting impatiently for a librarian - of all people - to show up and make a Top Secret information drop.

He scowled and scoffed silently into his foamy brew at the very balls of his friend and fellow comrade in arms, the man who'd set up this preposterous rendezvous. How the hell had Ace ever gotten it in his head that some stuffy old bookworm would be suitable for a transfer of classified information? So what if this Ayden person happened to be Ace's partner Leigh's sister? That didn't mean she could pull off something like this.

And who the hell is the amazing-looking chick that just walked in the door?

Nash's eyes widened, and his blood simmered beneath the surface. He let his eyes wander down, and then roam back up, the woman's sexy form. Her slim but amply curved silhouette stood out against the shadows of the barroom. Bright neon lights poured over her sexy outline, illuminating her body in vibrant red and yellow hues, cascading over and around her like waterfalls of color for her to bask in. She wore a skin-tight muscle shirt and a short leather skirt. The shiny, sequined material clung to curvy hips, stopped inches above shapely knees, and topped off endless, toned legs. Her fiery hair hung loose, reaching her narrow waistline, flowing like a billowing sea of red. Nash wanted to grip her waist with one hand, run his other through all that mass of organized tangles, hold on tight, and plow into her beckoning body like a madman.

Okay, so maybe her body didn't beckon him, but he sure as hell wanted it to.

Wednesday Words - “Dead Men Get No Tail” by Misty Malone

2010-06-02T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today’s excerpt comes from Misty Malone’s Dead Men Get No Tail, which is available from Phaze.

Clay Parkinson doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly having erotic dreams and tempting thoughts about Jack Bowman, especially since Clay is straight. Or so he tries to convince himself.
Worried about not leaving a legacy, Jack Bowman plans a fake funeral so he can enjoy the accolades while still alive. Clay can’t figure out why he hates the idea so much, until he realizes he’s accidentally fallen in love his with best friend. Desire warring against common sense, Clay will do anything it takes—including a date with the class dominatrix, his first visit to an adult toy shop, and a book about the Ins and Outs of sex—to figure out what he wants, who he wants, and, eventually, how to get him.

*****

Clay turned the lock and slumped against the wall. He slid down until he was on the floor and surrounded by half-empty bottles of carpet cleaner and vomit dust. He pulled his knees to his chest, trying to calm the unwelcome thud in his chest.

Jack had come up with some really stupid ideas before, but this had to be the worst. A funeral. A fucking funeral! It didn’t matter if it was fake. It was still Jack, lying in a coffin, pretending he was dead.

A shudder ripped through Clay.

Death was a very real thing to him. And here were his best friends, mocking it and planning a party?

Fuck!

As it always did, the anger drained out of him, leaving weary resignation behind. Of course he would follow Jack and Dominic and Miles into this mess. He always did, no matter how moronic the idea. They were his friends. They made him feel normal.

Of course, he couldn’t say the dreams he’d had this past year were exactly normal, either. Especially not the one where he’d found himself on his back in a grassy field with Jack on top of him, kissing him, sucking his neck, making him shiver, making him forget all the reasons why he shouldn’t enjoy the feel of his best friend’s hand slipping lower, down over his stomach, squeezing his cock.

Oh, God.

Clay shoved his hand into his jeans, barely pausing to undo the zipper, desperate to feel the heat of skin on skin. He stroked himself once, twice, then groaned. There was a reason he shouldn’t do this, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.

He whimpered as a wave of pleasure washed over him. A hard, urgent squeeze and he was swept up and over, a climax so intense he wondered for a moment if he were going to survive it.

The orgasm tore through his body, a pulse of release that spiked again just when he thought it had finally ended. His body shook, strung tight. He hated how good this felt, how much he craved it, even though his mind screamed that it was wrong.

Wrong to have Jack’s name on his lips as he came.

Clay’s chest was so tight he thought he’d suffocate. The burn in his lungs reminded him he needed to breathe. He leaned back against the back wall and turned his head, thankful for the cool cement against his hot face. For several moments he concentrated on just breathing in and out, nothing more than that.

Other than his raspy breaths, everything was silent. He couldn’t even hear the others downstairs. Maybe they’d left? Maybe they’d finally given up on this stupid idea and gone back to do some actual work for finals?

Yeah, right. And maybe if frogs had wings they wouldn’t bump their asses when they jumped.

Clay buried his flushed face against his knees. He’d just gotten off, thinking about his best friend. His male best friend. “Fuck, what’s wrong with me?

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

Clay nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jack!” he shouted to the closed door. “Damnit, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Didn’t mean to give you a coronary, Clayface.” Silence. “So, um, you wanna open the door, or do I have to talk to the splinters all night?”

Clay sighed and shimmied out of his hoodie, then tied it backwards around his waist to hide the uncomfortable evidence of what he’d just done. He wiped his hand on the back wall, then unlatched and opened the door.

“I’m—”

“—sorry.”

Clay smiled. They always spoke over each other. He liked the idea that they knew each other’s thoughts so well. He held up his hand. “No, I’m sorry. I overreacted. I should just go and let you guys finish up.”

Jack had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Not before you kiss me good-bye.”

Clay wanted to wipe that smirk off his face…or suck it off, or…oh God, what was he thinking?

Oh right, he wasn’t.

Jack stared at him, unblinking. It made Clay squirm.

“Jack?”

“You don’t want to say anything, do you?”

“What?”

“On Saturday. That’s why you’re not into this. You don’t want to say anything at the funeral because you agree with Laura. You don’t think I’ll leave any kind of legacy behind.”

Clay couldn’t stand that kicked puppy look on his friend’s face. Knowing he shouldn’t, he pulled Jack close and hugged him, as if a simple touch could convey everything he felt.

“No, Jack,” Clay murmured. “Never that. It’s just…there’s so much to say to say about you, I’d never be able to stop.”

Against him, Jack took a deep breath. God, the way his chest moved—

Clay closed his eyes. I am not getting turned on by the way he breathes.

Jack half-eased out of Clay’s arms. “Then what is it? Why don’t you want to do this with me?”

Clay closed his eyes. “It’s your funeral, Jack.”

He snickered. “That’s a really bad pun.”

Clay sighed. Was Jack twenty, or two? “Funeral. As in your death.” He wrapped his arms around himself, mostly to hide his trembling hands. “I…I’m not okay with that. I don’t want to think about you dying. About any of you dying.”

And me, left behind, alone.

Again.

That miserable look in Jack’s eyes faded away. “Is that what’s bothering you? Everyone knows it’s a fake funeral. It’s our last prank before leaving college for good. Don’t you know me well enough to see I want to go out big?”

Clay ducked his head and glanced up nervously, a slow flush warming his cheeks. “Well, yes I do know you. And I thought you had me figured out, too.”

Jack grinned. “I figure we need a drink. What do you say we finish up here, then hit the bars? Just the two of us.”

It was easy to forget his terror, when Jack smiled at him like that. Jack grabbed Clay’s shoulders. The heat from his hands coursed over Clay’s skin like hot water, melting something he hadn’t even known was frozen.

“This thing is about celebrating life.” His face split into big, lopsided grin. “And that’s enough drama. Come on. We’ve got a coffin to build and mass quantities of alcohol to consume.”

Clay shook his head. Some things would never change.

Like the way he felt empty inside every time Jack wasn’t touching him.

*****

www.MistyMalone.com : A new voice in town, Misty hails from the Big Apple itself. A Taurus with a penchant for angsty romances gone wrong and good ol' fashioned epic fantasy, Misty writes male/male romantic erotica. Her short stories can be found at Ravenous Romance, and her longer works at www.Phaze.com, including Dead Men Get No Tail, and her forthcoming historical fiction, The Consort.

Check out the book trailer for Dead Men Get No Tail online at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TTg_IZCRy7k.

Monday Morning Flash - “Suggestive Language” by Big Ed Magusson

2010-05-31T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today’s Flash comes from Big Ed Magusson and, honestly, I love this. It’s classic “Strangers in a Foreign Land” stuff. Enjoy.

*****

Suggestive Language

By Big Ed Magusson

“Come on England!” the paper headlines blared. It was hard to avoid, even for us American tourists, as London turned red and white for the European football cup.

“It should be ‘Go England,’” I mused.

“Of course, then it would be soccer instead of football,” Sharon said.

“True. And we’d be ‘watching our step on the subway’ instead of ‘minding the gap on the tube.’”

“It could be worse. Remember when Art said ‘touch wood’ instead of ‘knock on wood’?”

“Heh, do I ever,” I replied. “The look on your face was priceless!”

We walked past another newspaper stand awash in red and white.

“Maybe we should,” Sharon said with a devilish twinkle in her eyes.

“Should what?”

“’Come’ on England.” The innuendo was impossible to miss.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Let’s find an alley and see what we can do.”

I rolled my eyes but she was already tugging me towards an unnamed side street.

“And what if we get caught?” I asked.

“We just tell them we don’t speak the language.”

Somehow I was sure my British friends would agree.

----

e-Lust #14

2010-05-29T13:00:00.000+01:00

photo courtesy of Lila

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #14? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the site’s sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Answers with an Agenda 1- Fisting - Once you’ve gotten started using two fingers for a bit, then it is time to build until four fingers are sliding in and out of the person, and you are on your way.

Gagged - I think it’s got to be a combination… fingers sliding into your cunt, a merciless tease of your clit, and yes, it’s going to have to be, lining my cock up with your ass.

Mine - I feel you stir beneath me as I create a rhythm, your breathing changing growing more shallow as you slip from sleep into arousal. My eyes lift to yours as you smile and try to move your arms and then freeze.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Puppet Master - When I was right next to them and they still did not notice, I put my lips to his ear (loud music, you know) and whispered “Touch her boobs, I bet she’d like that” and I backed up a foot.

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Shaping Some Limits - “If you ever did that to me, I promise you would never see me again”.Those words were spoken to me this past weekend by my pet during one of our overnight dates. The subject was face slapping.

See also: Pleasurists #77 for all your sex toy review needs.

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Kink & Fetish

12 Licks of the Tawse
A Canvas for Pain
Best Friends
Fetish: What's Yours?
Needles and Cock Choking
One Couple's Journey into Kink, part 2
Pieces of Skin and Bone
Please hurt me unbearably, you fucking fucker!
Ssssh…
The Taskmaster's Whip

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A (Short) Ode to Uncut Cocks
Compersive Vanillas?
How Fear can Lead to Understanding and Trust
I am not a rapist...
Mother's Day Gift
On threesomes
On Friendship
Playing Nice On The Swingset
Tyler and Holly Give Swing Clubs Another Chance
The Virgin in the Family/Do Not Enter
third person
Whacking For America

Erotic Writing

26 minutes
A Request For Help
Are you willing, Are You?
A Squirting Experience
All Dressed Up - The Party ....part 2
Beginning
Book Orgasm
Dhanurasana
Flesh for Fantasy
Filled
Getting Lost in the Forest
Guest Post: Truck
Go Habs Go Domme Style
hotel window
How Do I Find You Sexy?
I'll Be Waiting
Jim and Lisa
Keeping It In The Family
Mind the Gap
My Sluttiest Moment
My First Blowjob
Me, Myself & My Clit
Not Tonight Dear, I've Got A Headache (Part 2)
Pure, Unadulterated Desire
Predatory
rhythm
Something Different
slumber interruptis
therapy session #1
Wanton Wednesday- Fuck-toy
Wednesday Night Blues

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
Eden Fantasys Newbie Help Guide
What the fuck, EdenFantasys?
Workshops and More at the ALCC

Friday House Guest - “My Eureka Moment - The Importance of the Setting” by Betty Ann Harris

2010-05-28T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today’s House Guest is Ms Betty-Ann Harris. I’m sure you’ll make her welcome.

*****

My first book in the Special Agent Series, Eureka Point, is a romantic suspense, in which the main character, a beautiful and successful Park Avenue interior designer, must assume a new identity and relocate to a somewhat desolate area far away. Eureka Point is an old Victorian seaport town on the rocky shores of the coast of Northern California. The setting is the opposite of New York, where the main character is from, and represents a new start for her. But the severe rocky coastline, with its cliffs and rough seas relates to the danger that still surrounds her. The setting adds a sense of mystery, suspense, and danger to my story.

The setting is so essential to my story that I don’t think I could write the same story with a different setting. One thing I do as a writer is spend a good deal of time describing the scene and scenery in order to draw the reader into the story.

A rather strange thing happened to me while I was writing this story. I decided on Northern California and just picked a name out of the air. I picked Eureka as the name of the town, but I also wanted to use a lighthouse on a point, so I decided on Eureka Point. When I was researching Northern California on a map, low and behold, there was a town on the coast named Eureka. Friends tell me they think I lived there in former life, or they think I’m psychic. Even though I’ve never been there, I feel such a strong connection to the area.

Several months ago I was at a store where my book, Eureka Point is being sold. The proprietor had just finished reading the book and she asked me when I had been to Northern California. I replied that I had never been there. She asked me how I knew about The Cliffside Inn, a restaurant I used in book. I explained that I had made up the name. And she replied, “Well, I was just there in the summer and had dinner there. We were on vacation and took a drive up the Pacific Coast Highway and stopped there. It was exactly as you described it in the book.” I got goosebumps!

Here's a peek at Eureka Point, the place and the book:
Tour of Eureka Point

If you drive about one hundred miles up the Pacific Coast Highway from San Francisco, you'll come to the dramatically beautiful historic seaside town of Eureka, California. If you take Cliffside Drive Northwest from the town of Eureka, you'll see the Pacific Ocean on one side, and steep hills and cliffs on the other, which makes for a dramatic and breathtaking scene. Eventually you'll come to Eureka Point and the lighthouse. It is rumored that the ghosts of old sea captains whose ships were wrecked on the rocky shores, still roam the cliffsides. If you walk around the lighthouse grounds, the sound of the surf crashing onto the rocky shore can be almost deafening. Sometimes the sea spray will splash you, leaving the sticky residue of salt water on your skin. Venture out to the Point in the early evening so you can watch the sun plummet into the sea, and you'll sware that you hear a sizzle as the orange sun sinks into the water. Lovers often come to Eureka Point and share a passionate kiss in the moonlight as it shimmers on the water below. The scenery and surroundings are breathtaking. This is where the story in my book, Eureka Point, takes place. Go ahead, get swept away and visit Eureka Point today!

Book Review

"It will keep you on the edge of your seat as you see what will happen next." ~ Red Roses for Authors

Betty Ann Harris - Spellbinding romantic suspense

My website: http://www.bettyannharris.com

Find my books at Red Rose Publishing, http://www.redrosepublishing.com

Feel my Audit!

2010-05-27T14:00:00.000+01:00

I must apologise for the lack of a “Wednesday Words” post yesterday. I had scheduled in an excerpt from one of my own short stories, but as it turned out I simply didn’t have the time to put it together. The first three days of this week saw my annual audit of accounts, and within a UK law firm this is a very, very big deal.

We hold large sums of money on behalf of our clients for any number of reasons and because of that we are subject to a set of rules that govern how we handle that money as laid out by the Solicitors Regulation Authority and subject to tight government regulations regarding money laundering and serious organised crime. In fact, there is even a comprehensive list of people who, should they try to engage our services, we are obliged to inform the government of. And yes, Osama Bin Laden is on the list (like he’s ever going to want to buy a house in rural Northamptonshire).

As the financial manager, ensuring that the firm complies with all the rules and regulations is part of my job description, so I’ve spent three days running around the office and generally making sure the auditors have what they need, know what they need to know and are happy we’re playing by the rules.

But the audit is over now, so I’m expecting life to go back to some semblance of normality.

Possibly.

Monday Morning Flash - “One Brief Moment” by Christine London

2010-05-24T09:00:00.001+01:00

Today’s Flash is a little different in the sense that it’s more of a poem than a story. It comes from Christine London and I hope you enjoy it.

*****

One Brief Moment
By Christine London

It’s so easy
To ignore
The dance of interlude

What happens in that brief moment
When pretense wears thin
And eyes meet

What happens in the midst of a crowd
In the center of ceremony
At the party of the year

Red carpets roll up
Camera’s flash fades
Worldly concerns vanish

For that one brief moment
There is connection
Realization

But then the drama
The allure of the spotlight
Yanks away what matters

And you return
To the present
And the demand of the night

In that one brief moment
More truth is spoken
Than all forty years before

In that one brief moment
There laid bare
The human heart

Tug of agent
Crash of industry
Intrusion of the ‘real’

And you are swept away
Into the needs of the many
But...
In that one brief moment
Your heart won

Six Sentence Sunday 23/04/2010 - “Lost & Found”

2010-05-23T10:00:00.000+01:00

Trying to spread things about a bit, today’s six come from Lost & Found. I blogged on Thursday about how much I learned about the story’s antagonist, The Colonel, while writing some extra scenes from his point of view. This comes from one of those extra scenes.

“How do you know who he is anyway?”

“Because, Bobby, unlike you, I talk to our daughter and I listen too.”

The Colonel sighed and said, “I messed up again, didn’t I?”

“Damn right you did.” She adjusted her weight and brushed away some hair that had fallen into her face. “Look, Bobby, I don’t know who’s right about the kind of funeral Lance would have wanted, but what I do know is that the last thing he would have wanted is for the two of you to be fighting over it, so you need to sort this out.”

To read more #sixsunday posts hop on over to the blog.

It Seems More Real Now

2010-05-22T10:00:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I received a copy of the cover that will adorn Eternally & Evermore on its release this summer. In fact, I also found out that the release itself is scheduled for August 9th. As you can see, the cover is, in a word, gorgeous.

Four e-books and I don’t know how many shorts at Ruthie’s in and the first sight of the cover of a new release (or story illustration in the case of Ruthie’s) still gives me a huge thrill. It makes the fact that your work is going to hit the e-shelves seem more real. It’s as if it’s the culmination of all the time you spent working on it. And so it’s also a bit scary. What if the cover’s no good? What if the artist didn’t ‘get’ what you told them? What if the cover models are just not… right?

I’ve been fortunate. I think there was only one illustration at Ruthie’s where I thought, “He’s got that wrong.” And it wasn’t as if it was a bad illustration - it wasn’t, it was very good - he just had the wrong characters fucking in the wrong places. Admittedly, there were three couples fucking in that illustration, so we can let it slide. And it was still a great piece of artwork.

And I’ve loved, loved, loved all my Phaze book covers. Kissed by a Rose was so simple and elegant and it was that very simplicity that made it sexy as hell. Lost & Found brought together all of that story’s important elements and the girl on the cover of Charlotte’s Secret was just how I imagined Charlotte when writing the book.

But let’s talk about this new cover. I love it’s brightness and vibrancy. I think it really stands out. It doesn’t use the “Scriptina” font that I use on my website and is on the other book covers, but that’s okay. I think the font used for the title here looks much better than it would in “Scriptina.” I’ve had it on my website for a while now and it just looks… odd. It’s not a title that lends itself to that font. And I also think font used for my name (which I recognise but can’t think what it’s called) is very clear and bold. I like it.

The female model on the cover is just right and I adore her expression and the way she’s just touching his chin. He looks like the dominant one because he’s higher up than she is, but is she pulling him towards her or trying to keep him at bay? We can’t see if her eyes are the right shade of blue because they’re closed, but in my mind they are, so that’s okay.

I’ll be honest and say I’m sure about the male model being ‘right’ for Will. Will’s a professional and I don’t think he’d be that unshaven, regardless of how sexy stubble is (unless it’s on me – then I just look a mess). I also have always pictured him in a suit and tie. But I can live with it because, to be honest, I’m not actually looking at him – my eyes are drawn to her. And to those cliffs. What’s the significance of the cliffs? Oh, they are very, very significant. As are those rocks at the base. But you’ll have to read the book to find out why. Won’t you?

So, what do you think of the cover?

Friday House Guest - “Is Less Really More?” by Christine London

2010-05-21T09:00:00.000+01:00

We’ve seen a lot of her this past week or so, but today’s House Guest is once again Christine London. She’s just got so much to say I had to give her two Friday House Guest slots. Look out for a Flash offering from Ms London on Monday too.

*****

I know it's not romance or even romantic, but its benefits will allow you to bring more romance into your life.

The recent passing of my father has left me feeling the need to re-evaluate/sort/purge and discover treasures unseen. I stumbled upon a book of serendipity.

"It's All Too Much" By Peter Walsh

An easy plan for living a richer life with less stuff

That tagline says it all.

SO I am going through eighty-six years of Dad's memories. Some include me, some before I was even imagined.

Come dream with me... I can almost hear him whisper. The fragments of news articles, the trophies of war, the certificates of appreciation and achievement, photos of people special in his youth; all these things kept in boxes stored out of sight and mind. How true it is that we are all guilty of covering over the bits and pieces of our lives to hide in the recesses of dusty garage or darkened attic.

It is not the few truly memorable things displayed proudly that are at fault. Rather it is the harsh awakening when we realize what’s been cluttering our rafters and closets may be more suffocating than liberating.

Do you own your stuff or does it own you?

Our possessions should not overrun our lives. The chaotic jumble clutter creates physically is reflected in our frustration and sense of being overwhelmed. If you haven’t used it, worn it or looked at it in a year, you probably don’t need it. This is the rule of thumb touted in the book. Of course there are those exceptions, such as holiday décor or that plumber’s wrench that is the only tool to fix the leaky pipe under the sink. For the most part though, one has to ask if the stuff that crowds our homes could better be used by someone else-- or tossed in the bin.

Your home is not only the physical, but the emotional base for you and your family. If you spend five minutes a day searching for your keys and can’t find the receipt to your laptop when it needs servicing, you’re not only adding frustration, you’re burning time that compounds. How much richer the life lived in peace and order? Once you achieve the inner peace that outer calm affords you can’t help but start to look at the way you spend your time. Has it been in acquiring stuff you don’t have time to use?

Cleaning and organizing a waste of time?? How about spending weeks of your time looking for your reading glasses?

All this made sense, especially now as I sort through the files and boxes of a life. Frame a few mementos, a precious representation of achievements and valour, struggles and success. Place on wall and shelf one or two reminders of the wonderful person who has moved on. Even these are tokens—keepsakes of a man whose memory could never be erased even if the house he loved were to burn down tomorrow with everything in it.

It’s just stuff and the stuff is not the memory.

Memory is something no time, change, rust, mildew, weather or act of God can disenfranchise.

May your path lead you to discover the wonders under your own roof. You can get rid of the things. Take a photo of that which you wish to muse over, but don't clutter your life and mind with objects. Those shoes you wore to prom are not the memory. Snap a digital of them and let them go.

When you have breathing room there's room for life. After all, there’s so much more good to tumble in...

like love, romance and the ability to write and read, dance and sing-- all that is really important. Enrich and declutter.

Thanks for the memories, Dad.

Christine London

www.christinelondon.com

Are the “Bad Guys” really All Bad?

2010-05-19T16:51:00.001+01:00

For the past couple of days I’ve been looking back over some of my blog posts from as far back as 2007. Okay, so it’s not that far back, and for some reason my archive stops in July 2007 then restarts in January 2008 – I suspect I was only posting to MySpace then. Perhaps that a minor project for when I’m really bored – to import my blog entries between August and December 2007.

But anyway, I tweeted, buzzed and facebooked a few of the entries because, even now three years later, I found them to be an interesting read. One of them even prompted my post on Tuesday about casting film versions of my books.

One post, well, two actually, that struck me was to do with “hate mail” – or in this case a particular piece of correspondence regarding Reunion and one person’s reaction to it. The general position I took in the posts was that I prefer my characters to have depth and be multidimensional rather than one-dimensional. I like flawed heroes and damaged heroines. I love sympathetically evil villains that at the same time have you hating their guts yet understanding their pain, fears and maybe even feeling a little sorry for them.

In short, I don’t do stereotypes.

I guess this fits in with another post I found about the difference between erotic and porn. Porn is full of stereotypes, erotica isn’t. Or shouldn’t be.

Perhaps it’s a failing of mine as a writer, or perhaps it’s a strength, but I do spend an awful lot of time thinking about my characters. About what motivates them. About their past and how it affects the person they are at the time of the story. About how they would react in different circumstances.

And I spend as much time examining the antagonist and secondary characters as I do the hero and heroine.

The first time I really examined my antagonist closely was when Phaze picked up Lost & Found but asked me to make some changes before publication. The main changes centred around the antagonist, Beth’s father, Colonel Burnett – or simply The Colonel.

I was told that I’d made the Colonel too one-dimensional, that his motivations weren’t clear. In short, I’d done exactly what I strive not to, which came as a surprise to me because I knew what motivated The Colonel and I knew that he wasn’t one-dimensional. At least, I thought I did. What I hadn’t done was get this across in the story. So that was my aim – to give this important character some depth.

I’ve always tried to write from strictly one character’s point of view and in the case of Lost & Found it was from Chris, the hero’s viewpoint. But to really get under the skin of The Colonel and show the readers what I already knew about him, I figured I’d have to write some scenes from his viewpoint. Which is what I did. And in doing so I found that I didn’t really know The Colonel at all on a conscious level. Oh, he was there, in my sub-conscious, waiting to get out and explain himself, but writing those scenes really opened my eyes and really taught me a lot about the art of characterisation.

And it taught me that ‘the bad guy’ is just a point of view. In Lost & Found, The Colonel is ‘the bad guy’ because he’s the one hell bent on stopping the hero and heroine from being together. He’s irrational and stubborn – a domineering father who demands everything be his way.

But from his point of view, he’s not doing anything wrong. Far from it – he’s actually protecting his daughter and trying to hold on to the only child he has left now that he’s lost his son. And he’s not stubborn – he’s proud. And he’s not domineering, he’s living the same military life he’s always lived, even though he’s retired.

The more I wrote, the more I felt myself empathising with him – but when you read the book as a whole it’s clear he’s still the bad guy.

Which brings me to Eternally & Evermore. This book has the most obvious and clearly defined bad guy I’ve ever written. And yet, right from the start, I wanted to get the reader asking why John Nugent behaved the way he did. What drove him? And that’s because, come the finale, I wanted the reader sympathising with him just enough to add to the tension of the scene.

So early on, in the first section of the book when all the main characters are eighteen year olds, I made it clear that the hero, Will, and John had once been very good friends, but something drove them apart – something that none of their friends knew. So even though John is thoroughly unlikeable, you find your self asking if he’d always been like that – because Will couldn’t have been friends with him if he was, and what happened between him and Will to make them hate each other so much.

And when they meet again as adults, the animosity is still there, at least on John’s part, and you again find yourself asking why he still holds a grudge given that…. Opps, nearly gave away an important plot point there. John’s softer side is mentioned by some of the other characters, and in the end, when all is revealed, you can’t help but feel a little bit sorry for him. The man has suffered. More than any man should. It doesn’t excuse his behaviour or what he’s become, but it does make it understandable to a small extent.

At least, that’s how I’m hoping you feel when you read it. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Eternally & Evermore is released in the Summer. Lost & Found is available now.

Wednesday Words - “Soul in his Eyes” by Christine London

2010-05-19T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today’s Words were due to come from Don Luis Da La Costa, but events beyond his control (his laptop went “kaboom”) has prevented that. Fortunately, Christine London, who was due to post her Words on the 9th of June, has stepped into the breach. Don’s Words will now appear in the slot originally slated for Chris.

Here’s the blurb for Soul in his Eyes by Christine London.

What would you do if suddenly, unexpectedly, a man entered your world…testing your attitudes, challenging your integrity, dislodging your emotional equilibrium and haunting your dreams with his eyes--- Not just any man, but Hollywood’s hottest Scottish actor?

Glasgow’s rough streets and the celebrity of Hollywood may seem light years apart, but when it comes to deliverance from the isolation inherent in both it is the unexpected that brings salvation to superstar Erik Bartholomew. Born and raised in a Glasgow working class suburb, hard drinking drop out of elite university programme, latecomer to acting, Hollywood’s hottest actor is having second thoughts about the invasive spotlight of fame.

A Los Angeles kindergarten teacher has never had cause to interact with Hollywood’s elite, much less consider the implications of a brush with fame until her quiet life is turned upside down by one chance encounter. What is the mysterious draw between such disparate people that is powerful enough to overcome distance and time? It is as if she can read his very soul through his eyes.

Fascinated by her pointed questions and almost magical ability to see into the depths of him, Erik reaches out to Christine in curiosity and attraction.

Is the gap between ordinary and mega stardom insurmountable?

Become a part of their world

Soul In His Eyes

By Christine London

Available NOW from Phaze Books

*****

And here is an excerpt from the book…

"Jacob Brice beware!" the black cloaked man rasped in rage as he leapt from the roof, landing hard on the stone steps of the mausoleum. The impact forced him nearly to his knees into a crouch. The sword in his hand struck the cast iron fence on the way down with a harsh metallic clank. Quickly dislodging it, he swung about to face his opponent. With the fury of betrayal in his eyes he lifted the blade up and around his head, striking the sword of the man before him with such force that it sent him reeling backwards. The opponent stumbled off the steps and down onto the ground, landing on his back. With his sword miraculously still in hand, the opponent scrambled to regain his footing.

His cloak swirled like thick black smoke behind him as he jumped down to carry on his attack.

Stand if you be a man." Jerad growled, regaining his balance.

"You are insane!" Jacob countered as he sprang to his feet.

Jerad lunged at him, teeth clenched in anger and exertion. Jacob countered. They fought blow for blow across the uneven terrain of the graveyard. Jacob caught his boot on the edge of a stone pathway, falling again to the ground, this time losing his grip on his weapon. It flew, landing at a distance in the dirt.

"Damn it", he cursed as the director shouted, "CUT."

Erik lowered his sword and strode over to see if his colleague was all right. Reaching down, he extended his arm to James, the actor playing his nemesis. "I don't think Jacob would have allowed such a faux paux," Erik jested as he helped James to his feet. "Are you all right, mate?" he asked.
"Yeah…just bloody clumsy. You're right. My character would never have lost his sword. Too much the classic protagonist."

"Right, boys. Shall we try that again?" Geoff boomed from his chair behind the camera. He rose and walked over to his two male leads. "That looked brilliant…well up until your little stumble, James. Just recreate what you did before that and it will be a print." The two actors were still breathing deeply from the exertion of the fight. Geoff looked at the expression on both of their faces and added, "Yeah, yeah…I know the bloody swords are heavy and it's difficult. All those hours in the gym do pay off, though." He gave them a wink and turned back toward his chair.
James and Erik looked at each other, resignation on their faces. Erik swept his cloak up over his arm and walked back toward the mausoleum. The inevitable make-up girl met him. She began touching up his face and hair like a cleaner fish swirling around a shark."Sorry for the sweat, my dear. Occupational hazard." He looked at her, reached for a bit of lint on her cheek and brushed it away with his thumb.

She blushed. "Mr. Bartholomew, if you aren't the cheeky one."

"Turn about is fair play," he quipped.

"All right, gentlemen. Let's get this done properly. Take your places, please," Geoff ordered. As Erik climbed atop the mausoleum, he smiled to himself. This shoot was a dream come true. It would most likely put his name on the actors "A" list. More importantly, he was having the time of his life.

*****

Christine London was born in Chicago, Illinois, but left the long winters of the Midwest as a child to find her roots in the sun and charm of California, both North and South. Her adopted home became Great Britain when she spent a year of college in the east end of London with three male flat mates; one from each country on the main island. Her fascination and love affair with all things British has grown over the years, facilitated by summers spent trading houses.

Graduating from Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles, Chris continued with family, teaching, singing in a jazz sextet and running foot races (and winning) before discovering her true passion….the romance and adventure of writing.

It took one Scot to awaken her poetic appreciation of Scotland's natural beauty, and another Scot to ignite her passion for writing. Thank you, gentlemen.

Visit my website at www.christinelondon .com for the latest!

Come tweet! http://twitter.com/ChristineLondon

The Cast List

2010-05-18T09:00:00.000+01:00

I recently added a “You Might Also Like” widget to this blog and it threw up this post from a couple of years ago. It’s about who I’d cast as the mains characters in the film versions of my books (assuming I could get big name stars to hardcore sex scenes). The books covered were Charlotte’s Secret, Lost & Found, and Reunion. I thought it might be cool to do it again with my two most recent books, namely Kissed by a Rose and Eternally & Evermore.

Kissed by a Rose

This is a tough one due to the age of the characters, who are mostly in their late teens / early twenties. But here goes.

Adam (The Hero) – Young, British, intelligent, etc… He’s good looking, but not a ‘beefcake’. And he has too ooze intelligence and charm but bit a little bit geeky. There’s only really one choice I suppose and that’s Mr Harry Potter himself, Daniel Radcliffe.

Chloe (The Heroine) – This is really, really hard. Chloe is described as “the best British actress of her generation” and as having “feminine curves” rather than being “stick thin”. So on the shape issue, you’d have to rule out the likes of Kiera Knightly (as much as I hate to) and Emma Watson. I guess what I’m really after here is a nineteen year old version of Kate Winslet – unless Ms Winslet could pull off playing a nineteen year old herself. She’d have to dye those blonde locks though, Chloe’s a Brunette.

Eddie (Adam’s Roommate) – Cassie describes Eddie at one point as “a bit more rugged” than Adam. He’s also not the sharpest tool in the box. This is almost impossible for me, so I’m going to cop out and cast anyone of the male cast members of British teen-soap, Hollyoaks.

Cassie (Adam’s other Roommate) – This is a role I’d like to see Emma Watson take on – just to see if she can play someone who’s about as different from Hermione as it’s possible for a character to be.

Kim (The Other Woman, sort of) – Here’s a problem – Kim is described as being almost Chloe’s double in appearance – although her character couldn’t be more different. Think Ms Winslet could pull a double shift? Through the magic of computer whatnotary, they could even appear on the screen at the same time (the same computer whatnotary that makes her look like a nineteen year old). Or do we have any other suggestions?

There are other characters I should really cast too, like Sam Bradwell and the Hollywood agent, Hilda, but I think these five are the most important.

Eternally & Evermore

I’ve said before that Eternally & Evermore started out as a rewrite of Reunion, but morphed into something completely different. This is particularly true of the characters and the cast I picked for the older story is no longer appropriate. So here’s my pick for the newer story.

Will (The Hero) – Could actually be played by two actors, one as a teenager and one as a thirty-eight year old, (The same could be said for all these except Jeremy) but I’m casting the adults here. Will is bald (ish) but handsome, but what we need in the actor is the ability to project intelligence & confidence. The audience have to trust him. I know he’s a Scot, but we’ve seen in Doctor Who what a good estuary accent he does, so I’d like to see David Tennant in this role – although he’d need a drastic haircut.

Amy (The Heroine) - “A little too thin” is how Will describes her to himself when they meet again after twenty years apart. Amy has had a tough life and this role would be challenging for any actress. We’d need to see her brimming with confidence at times, and very, very vulnerable (almost needy) at others. There is probably only one British actress who’s ‘a bit too thin’ that’s anywhere near talented enough for this role – and I know you’re going to say I’m biased here – Ms Kiera Knightly. She’d need to get the bleach out though, cause Amy’s blonde.

Jeremy (Will’s friend) – Very English. Intelligent. A bit posh. Mid-to-late twenties. Sound like any actor that’s recently taken over the most coveted role on British television? Stand up and take the part please Matt Smith. You’ll even get to drive an Audi R8 at high speed through the English countryside.

Lizzie (Will & Amy’s friend) – Lizzie is fun & flirty, but also Amy’s trusted confidant and is serious about her friend’s welfare. Don’t ask me why, cause I don’t have a answer for you, but I see the lovely Minnie Driver in this role.

John (The bad guy) – I don’t do stereotypes and I like my villains to be a little bit more interesting that just the evil guy who gets in the hero & heroine’s way. John is exactly that. You need to believe he’s a complete and utter bastard, but you also have to understand his motivations, feel his pain and, maybe, even feel a little bit sorry for him. That’s why I’d cast Daniel Craig. He’s done such a good job of actually making Bond seem like a real human being that I can see him doing great things with the role of John Nugent. Plus, it’s easy to believe that Mr Craig would kill you as soon as look at you, which helps when playing a villain who… Opps, nearly gave away a plot point there.

So there we have it – my fantasy cast for two films that will most likely never get made. But it was a fun exercise to do. If you’ve read Kissed by a Rose, do you agree with my casting? Unless you are one of three very special people (one of whom is my publisher), you won’t have read Eternally & Evermore yet as it’s not out, but what do you think of my cast? Good, huh?

Monday Morning Flash - “Mind the Gap”

2010-05-17T09:00:00.000+01:00

This little piece was inspired by a late night train rife I took with an old girlfriend many years ago. Enjoy.

*****

Mind the Gap

(292 words)

Amy and I met friends for an Indian meal last Saturday, our first night out since we got back from honeymoon. We took the underground so we could enjoy a drink—Amy enjoys a fruity Pinot Gris.

By the time the food arrived, Amy had polished off half a bottle and was getting as fruity as the wine. She rubbed my bulging cock through my jeans and wasn’t subtle about it, either. Our friends must have guessed what she was up to.

We caught the 23:27 home—a deserted, rickety old train. The high-backed seats provided plenty of privacy. As soon as we sat down, Amy kissed me hard, shoving her tongue into my mouth. I mauled her beautiful tits through her blouse and slipped a hand up her skirt to finger her pussy. She was dripping wet and smelled ripe.

She struggled to unbutton my fly, took out my cock, and wanked it. As the train slowed and pulled into a station, I lay my jacket over my crotch. Amy kept her hand movements small until the train jerked back to life. She leaned over, ducked under my jacket, and swallowed my cock. I was doing my best on her pussy, but found it hard to concentrate.

Amy was past caring when the train next stopped. So was I, come to think of it. I stifled a cry and filled her mouth before the train started moving again. She swallowed almost every drop. Amy lifted her head from my lap, looked me in the eye, and smiled. She wiped a drop of semen from the corner of her mouth.

There was a wicked look in her eye as she sucked her finger clean. “Hmm, saltier than usual. Must have been the curry.”

Six Sentence Sunday 16/05/2010 - “Eternally & Evermore”

2010-05-16T09:00:00.000+01:00

It’s Six Sentence Sunday time again and it’s back to this summer’s release “Eternally & Evermore”. Today is a little different though – the definition of “Teaser”. This verse is read by Will on a very significant gravestone. The picture to the right is irrelevant – I just like it.

*****

Beloved son
Stolen from this life before he’d had a chance to live it
Our Wonderful Son taken Too Soon,
We See Your Face wherever Flowers Bloom
The Light of Our Life Our Pride and Joy,
We’ll Miss You Liam Our Beautiful Boy

*****

For other #sixsunday posts, visit the Six Sunday blog

e-lust #13

2010-05-15T09:00:00.000+01:00

photo courtesy of Ms Scarlett

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Stuck - Since I first saw the picture he sent me I have had this visual stuck in my head, like a sweet thing lingering in the mouth.... wrists bound, tied to headboard--ankles bound, tied to baseboard-- naked, exposed

Animalistic - I grabbed the back of your ponytail like I owned you. No protest. Only a moan. Fuck, how aroused were you? Even your kiss was desperate, wet, passionate; your body was on fire and it showed.

A Hot Afternoon - She took Grady's hand and guided it between her legs. Grady's instinct kicked in as soon as she touched Hatty's tender clit and felt the wetness gathered there.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Confessional: Fixation/Addiction - In porn, both video and photo, I have little interest in the men. It’s the women who get my full attention, who arouse me. I seek them out. I flick past hetero couplings, bored. Blow jobs? Meh. Oh wait, close-up of her pussy? Her coming? Ok I’ll watch now.

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Thanks for the mansplanation, but I greatly prefer my vibrator - His views on female masturbation (derived, clearly, from absolutely nothing legitimate) are so fucked up, so irritating, and so detrimental, that I want to punch him in the face. It is, truly, mansplaining at its finest.

See also: Pleasurists #75 and #76 for all your sex toy review needs.

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A Pondering
An I thought us girls were supposed to be the confusing sex?
I get ragingly horny watching gay porn
Menopausal Body
Over-Rated
Snotty Blowjob
The Ethical Slut
What counts as kinky?
What Is Romance
Why We Swing

Sex News, Interviews, Politics and Humor

Strip Club Series - Part One - Club Super Sexe

Kink & Fetish

An Anal Fairy Tale
How I Turned My (Ex)Husband Into a Pervert Pt.1
In Her Place
Kinky
Love that Thang He Does
On Productivity, Insanity and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches
Rights and Responsibilities
Shoe shopping
Show Me Your Teeth
The Greek Slave
Voice

Erotic Writing

A Recurring Fantasy
almost
Awakenings
A Helping Hand
Bite me
challenge
des fumes
Exposed
Frankie Says Swallow
For your prompt review
Gardening
Glass Elevators
Haze
In The Boardroom With Brock
Microfantasy Monday, week 77: Rain, part 2
Monday Morning Flash - "Homebaking"
One of the Hottest Moments I Had as a Prostitute
Seven
the feast
Unexpected Pleasures
Used
Wet

Friday House Guest – Christine London at the RT Cover Model Photo Shoot

2010-05-14T09:00:00.001+01:00

Today’s House Guest is Christine London. I know you’ll make her welcome.

*****

I have to admit to a bias where photography, book cover shoots in particular is concerned. Having dabbled in cobbling a cover or two of my own, I have gained great respect for the hard work of the models and photographers that produce such beautiful work.
Saturday at the RT Booklovers convention brought a much-anticipated treat---the welcome of industry professionals and readers into the world of a romance novel cover shoot. Sets carefully assembled, lights mounted, photographer clutching expensive Nikon equipment, lucky attendees buzzed with excitement as the host of the shoot welcomed us.
Internationally renowned model, Jimmy Thomas (www.jimmythomas.com) moved effortlessly through pose after pose, change of costume accomplished in the blink of an eye (and largely in view of the rapt audience) Mr. Thomas charmed his way in a graceful ballet that included numerous emotions. Whether a cowboy, a regal regency gentleman or between creamy satin sheets, Jimmy made what is not easy, look it. Spinning a spell of romance and sensuality that seemed to raise the temperature in the room twenty degrees, Mr. Thomas moved about each female model with poise and smoldering masculinity.
To be a really great cover model one must not only appear to make love to his partner, but the camera as well. A consummate professional, Mr. Thomas captured the definition of being 'top of his game' all whilst adding absorbing commentary, casually adjusting a prop or an errant strand of hair.
After the final scene was shot, the three model participants stayed to answer questions.
Methods of lighting, posture and matters or professional concern were all discussed. Ever the generous spirit, Mr. Thomas even conveyed warning to aspiring models to beware of contract specifics; to not sell them short by allowing their personal images to fall into unsavory use.
The man himself tells me that we can expect further surprises at next year’s RT Convention. The mind does dance in imaginings of what that might be….
Thank you Jimmy for being so kind as to share an area of the business few have opportunity to experience.

Christine London
Author of Romance With a Twist
Visit my website at www.christinelondon .com for the latest!
Come tweet! http://twitter.com/ChristineLondon

Wednesday Words – “Verasheyan” by J. Trout

2010-05-12T09:00:00.001+01:00

This week’s excerpt comes from J. Trout. Verasheyan, published by Phaze Books is, if you please, a Science-Fiction/BDSM/Romance novel, which isn't something one comes across every day. Among other things, it includes a short course on the psychological and physical causes of BDSM, from which this excerpt is taken. Most Psychology courses aren’t anything like this.

In Verasheyan, Reshayn, a beautiful hermaphroditic alien, has been captured by the police who want information from him… her… it… (the novel actually uses the pronoun ke) about his… her… its… boss, a rich crime-lord. Unsure of how to get the information, the police captain, Blaie, hands the alien over to a BDSM expert named Master Zane. But Zane’s assistant, Nell, falls for Reshayn.

Along with the erotica and the BDSM techniques, there’s some interesting background on Reshayn's alien culture and Nell's psychology. In fact, the novel is as much character-study as it is erotic-adventure story, getting deeply inside the heads of the four characters. Altogether, it's a fast, hot, thought-provoking read. Enjoy this excerpt.

You can purchase Verasheyan from the Phaze website or from your favourite e-book store.

**********

Zane poked the touch-pad again, and the scene shifted to the inside of another room, this one designed to resemble a classic medieval dungeon. In its center a naked young man, also gagged, lay on his belly across a tall sturdy stool. His arms and legs were artfully bound to its legs, and his visible erection swung free under the edge of the seat. An athletic woman dressed in leather harness, a classic cat-o-nine-tails hanging at her belt, was slowly, lovingly, pressing on the end of a studded vibrator that had more than half disappeared between the ‘victim’s’ buttocks. The man was jigging frantically on the stool, escaping nothing, and his eyes were wide. The sound was off, but he was obviously screaming.

Blair went pale as he watched, but didn’t pull his eyes away from the screen.

“Let’s have a closer look, shall we?” Master Zane manipulated the touch-plate again. “This is the interior.”

The screen promptly showed a colorized version of a fluoroscope view, a close-up of the stretched rectum with the solid-dark implement crawling through it slowly. The whole scene bounced and jiggled, and a light-red area under the vibrator changed color, growing brighter.

“That’s the nerve center,” Zane said, pointing. “And, as you can see, it is definitely being stimulated. Mistress Anne will have to proceed carefully to keep the subject from climaxing before maximum stimulation is achieved.”

“M-maximum…?” Blair mumbled, unable to pull his gaze away.

“Sensory overload. The breaking-point. The idea is to keep the subject hovering there, and in an orgasmic or near-orgasmic state, for as long as possible.”

Blair said nothing, but Zane noticed that he bit his lip.

“Simple pain is not sufficient,” Master Zane said, working the touch-pad, “To reach the particular kind of sensory overload we want. Simple brute pain will destroy tissue, and nerve sensitivity with it. It will cause the subject to faint, or at most to promise anything for relief – but will leave the mind still intact enough to think of believable lies or some other form of resistance. No, for the sort of complete surrender we want, the pain must be mixed with irresistible pleasure. Look.”

He pointed to the screen, which now showed a plain room in which stood two tall, sturdy, upright posts. Between them, spread-eagled by wrist and ankle cuffs clipped to rings on the posts, stood a young man – naked, except for a blindfold. A muscular middle-aged man dressed in black was lashing at his back, buttocks and thighs with a slender-tailed multiple-thonged whip. The younger man’s back already sported multiple pink stripes where the lashes had struck.

Blair leaned closer, peering intently at the screen.

“Those tails are narrow thongs of moderately-soft leather,” Zane explained. “A blow with them will sting noticeably, the stinging sensation will soon change to an intense itching that lasts for several minutes, and of course the blow will bring blood to the surface of the skin, as you can see.”

“…Uhuh…” said Blair, staring.

“Now, when you bring blood to the surface of the skin, you make it more sensitive. This can be— Ah, there. See what he’s doing.”

The man had tossed the whip down, somewhere off-camera, and had picked up a long fluffy feather. Carefully as an artist drawing a sketch, he drew the tip of the feather down the youth’s back, then across his buttocks, and then jiggled it lightly over the backs of his thighs.

The effect on the young man was remarkable. He stood rigid at first, then began to squirm, then writhed furiously.

“Tickling!” Blair gulped. “He’s tickling him!”

“No ordinary tickling, with his skin that sensitive.” Master Zane reached for the touch-pad again. “Now let’s look at the biochemical factors...”

Monday Morning Flash - “Hot Cream Desire” by Cassie Exline

2010-05-10T09:00:00.001+01:00

Today’s Flash is once again from Cassie Exline. She wrote this story for a contest at “Coffee Time Erotica”, so as you might have guessed from the pic, it’s about coffee. Well, not strictly about coffee, it’s just got coffee in it. Sort of. Enjoy.

**********

Hot Cream Desire By Cassie Exline

(466 Words)

Every Wednesday afternoon at two o'clock, Robin sat in Norma's Coffee Shop enjoying a cup of coffee and doing a crossword puzzle while trying not to stare at the handsome dark-haired Luke who sat at the corner table not far from the ladies restroom.

She fantasized Luke naked in bed. Desire seared her body every time their eyes met. Inevitably Robin creamed her panties before her cup was empty or her crossword completed.

Robin always made several trips to the ladies room. When she passed his table, they would nod and smile.

This Wednesday Robin dressed to kill. A short skirt, a top with a plunging neckline, and stilettos. No panties. She made four trips to the restroom and three times had been asked out by other men.

Ready for another trip, Robin stood and smoothed her skirt. Her hips swayed when she passed Luke’s table. She was fixing her hair in the bathroom mirror when the door opened. Luke entered and locked the door. He reached for her and slammed her against the wall. He shoved her arms above her head. His hungry mouth feasted on hers. They kissed, their tongues licking and sucking, while their bodies pressed hard together.

One of his hands slipped under her top and cupped one of her silk covered breasts. His other hand moved down her back and squeezed her bottom. He brought her left leg up. His fingers pushed under her skirt.

She caressed his face, kissed his lips, his cheeks. Her fingers twined his hair while his fingers explored the moist furrow of her pussy.

He broke their kiss to nibble her earlobe, down her neck. His mouth crushed hers as he ripped off her blouse and deftly removed her bra. He sucked her nipples. His teeth raked the hard nubbins. She moaned.

He whirled her around. His hands slid down across her bottom, down her thighs and yanked her skirt above her waist. He tugged her curlies and rubbed her mons.

She heard the snick of his zipper, bent over, and braced herself against the sink. He widened her legs, poised his cock at her cunt, and rammed so deep she orgasmed. His thrusts steadied and intensified. He fucked her hard and fast. His orgasm triggered another for her. His hot panting breath washed over her.

“Oh, Luke. Luke,” she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck.

His hot cream trickled down her leg. She turned and sucked his tongue into her mouth. He set her on the sink. She wrapped her legs around him. He fingered her to another orgasm.

She was still breathing hard when she heard knocking at the bathroom door. “Robin! Your break is over. We need fresh coffee made.”

“Just a minute, Norma!”

“Newlyweds!” Norma stomped away.

Six Sentence Sunday 09/05/10 - “Kissed by a Rose” – Now in Print!

2010-05-09T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today’s six sentences come from “Kissed by a Rose”, which is now available in print from Phaze books, priced at $12.95 (or about £8.75-ish).

*****

“Perhaps you’d be warmer if you were wearing something else.”
“Don’t you like it, I brought it for you?” She closed the door behind him and did a twirl.
“So this is my birthday present?”
“Part of it, the second part is in the lounge.”
Adam had no idea what to expect, but he certainly wasn’t expecting what awaited him.

*****

For other #sixsunday posts, visit the Six Sunday blog.

Friday House Guest - “Confessions of a Recovering Pantser” by Misty Malone

2010-05-07T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today’s House Guest is fellow Phaze author Misty Malone. Over to you Misty.

*****

Come closer and I’ll tell you a secret.

Closer.

Just a bit more.

There you go. Okay, so here’s my deep dark confession: Until last year, I’d never written an outline in my life.

I’ll wait for you to recover.

Yup, I was a pantser, just winging it from chapter to chapter, a concept of plot in my head but no clear direction on where I was going or how I would get there.

Everything changed in April 2009 at the Romantic Times Conference. I pitched a fantasy series, two of which were finished, a third only a concept in my head. The agent I spoke with loved the concept and wanted to see the completed manuscripts… plus a treatment for the third book.

Treatment? As in pedicure, manicure, and facial?

Nope. As is a chapter-by-chapter breakdown of the important plot points in a novel. A lot of research went into learning what a treatment was, I’ll tell you. Turns out, they’re a tool used in the film industry when scriptwriters pitch their story ideas to movie studios. Rather than reading a 500-plus screenplay, studio directors request a three to four page summary, breaking down the main plot points by scene. Seems the publishing industry has adopted this technique, too.

So there I was with not a word written for the third book. Where to start? Chapter one, of course. Four sentences, introducing the character—not by physical traits—but by what he does, by what is At Risk for him in the novel, by what his major goals and major obstacles are.

Chapter two follows the same formula, but also advances the story of the plot. What changes in this chapter? Do these changes help or hurt the main character’s plot goal? What decisions is he forced to make as a result? By planning out these chapters side-by-side, you ensure each one has movement and plot elements that will either help or hinder your characters during the course of the novel.

Another unexpected perk came when I gave the treatment to my critique group. I was just hoping for overall impressions. Instead, I got questions about character motivations, realism issues, and continuity concerns. In other words: plot holes. But this was great! Critters pointing out my plot holes before I even penned Word #1!

Imagine how much work that saved me during the writing and editing process. No wasted scenes that should never see the light of day because they didn’t do anything to move the story forward. A cohesive plot with no dropped threads or gaping holes. In short, the treatment became my ultimate writing tool.

Now, that’s not to say the treatment is written in stone. And here’s something the pantsers among you will love—things can, and will, change the further you get into the novel. For example, in the book I’m working on now, I decided to completely change the transition into the climactic scene of the book because of something I learned about my villain that the treatment couldn’t tell me.

And when it came time to write the synopsis, my work was almost already done for me! All I had to do was refer back to the treatment—which blueprints those plot points agents and editors want to read about in your synopses—and just check those chapter notes against what ended up in the final product.

So, here I stand, a recovering pantser. Not to say I won’t dip back into that mindset for a short story once in a while, but I’m converted. I’ve written treatments for four novels now, and the feeling of cohesiveness and closure is there in a way they weren’t before. If you’ve never dared a treatment before, go ahead. I won’t tell. It’ll be our little secret.

Bio for Misty Malone: www.MistyMalone.com

A new voice in town, Misty hails from the Big Apple itself. A Taurus with a penchant for angsty romances gone wrong and good ol' fashioned epic fantasy, Misty writes male/male romantic erotica. Her short stories can be found at Ravenous Romance, and her longer works at www.Phaze.com, including Dead Men Get No Tail, and her forthcoming historical fiction, The Consort.

Check out the book trailer for Dead Men Get No Tail online at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TTg_IZCRy7k.

Happy reading!

Thursday Thoughts – Election Night

2010-05-06T09:00:00.000+01:00

So, here we are. The Big Day. #GE2010. Those of you outside these green and pleasant lands might not know there’s an election on and today is the day that Brits go to the polls, stick their cross in a box (could that sound any more dirty? Or is it just me) and pick a new government.

Possibly.

The thing is that this year, more than any other year for a long time, the prospect of a hung (or if you’re from the SNP or Plaid, a ‘balanced’) parliament looms over this election like a giant black rain cloud. Now, I accept that in some other countries, notably Germany, a hung parliament/coalition government works. But there are as many countries where it doesn’t. Italy and Israel anyone? It almost seems like they have to elect a government every other year because the current coalition has collapsed. And British history shows that the country has made its biggest strides when it has had a strong government with a healthy majority.

I suppose, given that I know many of the readers of this blog are from outside of the UK, I better just explain how the election of a government here works. Firstly, we elect members to the House of Commons only, not the House of Lords (the upper chamber). Secondly, we don’t actually elect a Prime Minister, we elect a Member to represent the local constituency using a ‘first past the post’ system. This of course, is what calls for the likes of the Liberal Democrats, Greens et al to claim the system is so unfair. First Past the Post tends to elect a Member from one of the two main parties, Labour and Conservative, with a smattering of LibDems that in no way reflects the national share of the vote.

The system is also biased towards the Labour Party. They need a lower overall national share of the vote to win a majority than the other parties because their core vote tends to be concentrated in large inner-cities where there is also a greater concentration of seats available. There are 650 seats in the House of Commons and each seat is supposed to represent roughly the same number of people living in each constituency, so because population density is greater in inner-cities, that’s why there are more seats in inner-cities too.

Is this system unfair like the LibDems and others claim? Yes. Without question. According to the BBC ‘seat' calculator’ if the current opinion poll numbers (don’t get me started about opinion polls) are accurate (they won’t be, they have a 3% margin of error either way so a 6% lead for one party could in fact be a 12% lead and still be within the MoE. Crazy) then Labour could end up with 42% of the seats for only 29% of the national vote, Tory’s would have the same 42% with 35% of the vote and the poor old LibDems would suffer only 12% of the seats for 26% of the vote – half of what they ‘deserve’.

Of course, all this is based on what’s happened in previous elections and I really do think we’re in for a shock of 1992 proportions or bigger when the results come out overnight. (For those that don’t know, the exit polls in 92 announced after the election closed predicted a Labour win for Neil Kinnock but were very, very wrong, with John Major’s Tories clinging to power)

But here’s the thing, the system as it is works. Look back at the last time we had a hung parliament in the UK. The election of February 1974 resulted in a Lib/Lab government under Harold Wilson that lasted until just October of that very same year.

Now compare that with the governments since that have commanded large majorities in the House of Commons – notably those of Margaret Thatcher and Tony Blair, both of which had massive influence and changed the country radically.

Thatcher is without question the most divisive leader of the UK ever – with the possible exception of Oliver Cromwell who was, after all, responsible for the Civil War. But love her or loath her (and there is no in between, on one who lived under Thatcher can be described as being ambivalent towards her) there is no doubt that the Britain she left behind when forced from office by her own party was a totally different one from the one she inherited.

And while Tony was perhaps not quite as radical as Thatcher, he still oversaw massive changes in the way the country is run and the outlook of its people.

So I’m hoping that tonight we don’t end up with a ‘balanced’ parliament. I’m hoping there will be a clear and decisive victor. But I’m also hoping the result will shake things up a bit. I’m hoping that the electorate stick two fingers up to the media and pollsters who seem to have spent this past month telling us what a great political story it would be if there was a hung parliament. Yes, the media don’t really care who wins as long as they do, and they win by being able to stretch the story out for as long as possible.

I think tonight will be interesting. It may even be as dramatic as 1997. Who knows? It will, as they say, all become clear in the morning.

Wednesday Words - “Eternally & Evermore”

2010-05-05T09:00:00.000+01:00

Yes, I’ve reserved this week for myself. It’s my blog, what you going to do about it? There’ll be more guests next week, but for now I’m serving up a tasty helping of Eternally & Evermore.

In this scene, which follows on from this week’s Six Sentence Sunday, Amy had instructed Will to arrive at her house prepared for the what they’ve got planned. Enjoy.

*****

Come Prepared, she’d said. And Will knew that she meant one thing—condoms. He’d never bought any before and wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. He considered asking his dad if he had any, but only for a second before he thought better of it. And even though he knew that Bobby would give him one, he couldn’t ask him. If he did, then Bobby would know what he and Amy were planning and while Bobby wouldn’t spread rumours maliciously, he couldn’t be trusted not to say the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time without realising it.

So there was nothing else for it. After he’d walked Amy home that evening, he called into the all-night store by the park. It was late and the other shops were closed, but Pattel’s was always open. Run by an Asian family, the store sold all the basics that one might want in a hurry—bread, milk, booze, a small selection of groceries, sweets, tobacco, newspapers, magazines and, of course, condoms.

There wasn’t anyone hanging around outside the shops—He had been worried he’d bump into John Nugent and his gang but they seemed to have found a new hangout in recent weeks. He walked in and thanked his lucky stars that Mr Pattel was behind the counter. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to go through with it had it been Mrs Pattel—or worse, their stunning daughter, Neesha, who’d been two years ahead of Will at school and worked part-time in the shop as she went through university. The Pattels kept certain products behind the counter. Cigarettes obviously, that was the law, but also the stronger booze like the spirits and fortified wines, medicines like cough mixture and paracetamol tables and, of course, the condoms.

Will browsed the shop, aware that Mr Pattel was watching him. The shopkeeper had had bad experiences of some of Will’s peers—John Nugent in particular. He didn’t want to walk up to the counter and just order condoms. It had to be a throw-away line. He wanted it to look as if he’d gone into the shop for something else, and might as well get some condoms while he was there.

He settled on a magazine he regularly bought, some chocolate and a bottle of white wine, which he thought he could take to Amy’s with him tomorrow.

“ID?” Mr Pattel said when Will put the wine on the counter. Will got out his wallet and flashed his provisional driving licence, which he’d taken to carrying around with him ever since he’d turned eighteen and been legally old enough to buy alcohol, even though Mr and Mrs Pattel were the only ones who ever asked to see it. Mr Pattel nodded and rung up the items on the till.

“Five pounds fifteen, please.”

“Oh, and some condoms as well.” He mumbled the word.

“Some what? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Somecondomsaswellplease,” he said in one breath.

Mr Pattel shook his head. “Sorry, still didn’t get it.” Will wondered if the man was doing deliberately now. Making him suffer.

Will took a deep breath. “Could I, please,” he said, “have a packet of condoms as well?”

“Of course, young man. A pack of three, twelve or eighteen?”

Will shook his head. “Just three for now.”

Mr Pattel turned around, took something from one of the shelves behind him and then turned back to Will. He held out two packets. “Ribbed, or featherlight?”

Will looked him square in the eye. “Which would you recommend?” he said with a smile.

Mr Pattel laughed and put the featherlight pack back. “First time?”

Will nodded. “Can you tell?”

“Trust me, she’ll like these. Six seventy-five altogether.”

Will found the coins out of his wallet while Mr Pattel put the items into a brown bag. “Good luck. And have fun.”

April Keywords – WTF??

2010-05-04T09:00:00.000+01:00

I’ve done posts before focusing on the keyword searches that bring people to my website and their utter absurdity. April was no different. Forty five different key phrases resulted in people clicking on links to my site. Which isn’t bad really. Until you break down what those searched phrases are.

Obviously the top phrases were “Marc Nobbs”, “marcnobbs.com”, “marcnobbs” and “Mark Nobbs”. “Ruthie’s Club” bought in a number of hits too as did various ‘erotica’ and ‘erotic romance’ related phrases. But it’s the ‘one off’ phrases that are always the most interesting. The ones that make you stop and think “WTF????” Here are some of the best for April.

“tom gabby cock”
“squirting orgasm filetype pdf”
“he pulled my jockeys down to reveal my 13 year old cock”
“ikizler erkeği kızarsa nasıl davranır” – which Google translates to mean “Although the twins flushed and how men behave.” (No, I didn’t understand it either)
“oh god yes she moaned as the priest licked her” (sounds like a hell of a confessional to me)
“oh yes oh yes fuckme filetype pdf”
“my wife sighed as his cock went up her arse” (well, she would, I suppose. That or scream)

All I can say is that there appears to be some very odd people in the world.

Monday Morning Flash - “Homebaking”

2010-05-03T09:00:00.000+01:00

Today’s Flash is one of mine again. “Homebaking” was written as a challenge to tell a story entirely through dialogue. Enjoy.

*****

Homebaking (206 words)

“Hi, Honeybuns. I'm home. Hmm, someone's been baking. Cookies!”

“Don't you dare, Sweetie. They're for the church fete.”

“Hummph. Hoo hate, horry.”

“Sweetie!”

“Sorry; couldn’t resist. Where are you anyway?”

“I’m upstairs, Sweetie.”

“What are you doing up here? You've still got a cake in the oven... Oh.”

“I did the test. I'm ovulating. The leaflet says we have to make love lots and lots over the next thirty-six hours.”

“Thirty-six hours?”

“That’s right, Sweetie. Once every couple of hours should be enough. Starting now. Thank God it's Friday.”

“Every two hours? I'll be knackered.”

“And I'll have more than a cake in the oven, I hope.”

“Eh?”

“Never mind – just take your clothes off and come here.”

“Okay.”

“Slow down, Sweetie. You know how I enjoy watching you strip.”

“Really? How's this?”

“Yeah, Sweetie. Wiggle that arse for me.”

“Enjoying the view, or should I turn around?”

“Turn around.”

“Okay.”

“Hey. No fair, Sweetie. Move your hands.”

“What's it worth, Honeybuns?”

“I'll suck.”

“Deal. Voila! Hey, what are you…?”

“Humpf, grumpf.”

“You shouldn't talk with your mouth full, Honeybuns. Oh, that's good. That's really good. Oh yeah. Suck it for me. Why are you stopping?”

“Wouldn't want to waste those spermies, would we?”

“Good point.”

“Come on, then. I'm ready and waiting for you, Sweetie.”

“You sure? I'm all fired up.”

“Goody. I'm going to enjoy this.”

“You bet you are. There we go.”

“Oh. Yeah. Oh, that's nice. Oh, that's nice!”

“Hmph, Hmph!”

“Ohh.”

“Hmph! Ahh! Yes. Yessssssss!”

“That was quick, Sweetie.”

“Does it matter? You got what you wanted.”

“I know, but...”

“And we'll go again later, won't we?”

“Damn right we will.”

“Honeybuns? What's that smell?”

“What smell?”

“Smells like burning.”

“Oh fuck! The cake!”

Six Sentence Sunday 02/05/2010 – “Eternally & Evermore”

2010-05-02T09:00:00.000+01:00

Here’s another six sentences from Eternally & Evermore, which is set for a summer release. This scene is from the early part of the novel, when Amy and Will are still teenagers. They are sunbathing in the park on a lovely June day having just had a picnic with their friends.

*****

“You know what I’ve always said about… you know.”
“You’re going to have to give me a clue, Amy.”
“About us… you know. Waiting until the time was right before we… you know.”
“I remember.”
“Well, I was thinking that, perhaps, the wait might be over.”

*****

You can read today’s Six Sentences from other great authors via the Six Sentence Sunday Blog or search twitter for #sixsunday

Featured in e [lust]

2010-05-01T09:00:00.000+01:00

I was this week featured in e[lust] – the blog which lists many sex-related blog posts. I’m in the “Erotic Writing” section. One of the conditions of being featured is that I must repost the entire e [lust] list on this blog within a few days of the post going live. So, here it is. A whole host of lovely links for your reading pleasure. Just come back to me when you’ve finished, okay?

*****

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #13? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the site’s sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Flesh – Her mind awash with the thought of fucking. The smell of his scent stirring her cunt, her skin alive and encased by lust.

Putting energy in – Play is energising, at its best; so when both of you are tired, sex or spanking can be a way to get away from it all, rejuvenate your emotional connection and stimulate body and brain with a flood of hormones and endorphines.

A Rude Awakening – In the depths of the night, I half wake to the feel of her cool skin wrapping itself around my back. Soft breasts pushing against my ribs and her groin moulding itself to my buttocks.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Shouldn’t – It always starts off so inconspicuously. Innocent, like the sort of teasing that might occur now and then between any other pair of friends who share a hint of attraction to each other.

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Comfort – She’s so strong and yet, when we lie down together, she makes herself small and vulnerable for me. ”Hold me” she says in a tiny voice

See also: Pleasurists #73 and #74 for all your sex toy review needs.

Erotic Writing

Back Story
bodystocking blowjob
Bella Durmiente
Began my day
Bubbleland
Current events
Fiction: Growth
First Meetings…
Game On
“I want your cock in my mouth”
“Make Me”
Mauled at Noon
Monday Morning Flash – “Bathtime”
musing/not asking
Negotiations
Oh, What a Night
One Last Surprise
Over-Ruled?
Park ‘N Ride Me
Slut with Wine Bottle
Stardust
Satin Met a Laddie
Unravelled
Wednesday meeting with V

Kink & Fetish

BDSM Advice Series: Gags
Domme for a day
FetInRealLife #12 – DIY Flogger
First Memories
Impact
Last Night
New friends and intense, sweaty, loud orgasms
Out with the Old, in with the New
Sluts, Squirts and Swing Clubs
Steel
Submissive Skills: Hunt Slut
Trust
taking her as My girl, discovering the Dom within
“Welcome to SpankingCast, our spanking podcast”

Sex News, Interviews, Politics and Humor

Building Community for Sex-Positive Sexuality Professionals
Soaking — Marinating in the Cunt of Christ

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Gay Pride
Going Bareback
I Can’t
Ladies, what do your genitals say about you?
My Identity is Erased
More Bad Advice
My Rape Story
Read and you may learn…V-massage
Psychology of Rape Fantasy- An Overview
Support Survivors
Top 10 Good Things About A LDR
You Shur Got a Pretty Mouth

Friday House Guest - “Sleek, Shapely Curves” by Victoria Blisse

2010-04-30T09:00:00.000+01:00

This week’s House Guest is Victoria Blisse, who we heard from earlier this week in the Wednesday Words slot with an excerpt from her vampire romance, The Point.

Today, she’s going to talk about one of my favourite things – beautiful feminine curves.

*****

When you hear guys talking about expensive sports cars you always hear them drooling about their beautiful curves well when I write, I like to wax lyrical about curves too but I don’t often mention cars.

Hello, I am Victoria Blisse and like to write about ample bosoms, shapely hips and big bottoms. I love writing about real women. Women who have wobbly bits they’re not proud of, cellulite, the odd wrinkle or stretch mark. I got heartily sick of reading romance stories about stick thin girls. You know the type. They’re geeky, shy and apparently unattractive to the opposite sex but the moment they whip off their glasses and shake out their hair they’re ever guy’s wet dream with subtle curves and perky tits to match. I am not that kind of woman and I wanted to write stories about characters like me because we curvy girls deserve love and lust as much as anyone else.

It makes me sad when I see advertising hoardings covered in beautiful women quite clearly airbrushed to remove all their alleged imperfections. It makes me feel inadequate sometimes because I am never ever going to look like the model on the bill board, heck if she’s had to be airbrushed I don’t know what computer hi jinks they’d have to do to make me look presentable! But not just that, it makes me feel sorry for the poor girl who is obviously stunning to start with but still has her image digitally played with before it can be used. How awful must that make a person feel? It’s just as bad for guys these days, they’re coming under similar pressures to look toned, tanned and well groomed as we women have experienced for many years.

Well, I think it’s time that we reject the media image which is so unobtainable it’s unreal. I mean if Lara Croft really existed she’d keep toppling over with the weight of her massive, pert boobs! No, we need to be looking for the good, the sexy in ourselves just the way we are. We’ll never be perfect and that shouldn’t be seen as a bad thing. Imperfections are what make us different from each other. They’re the things that mark us out as an individual and it’s about time we started to champion diversity and the love of our wobbly bits.

I like to think I’m doing my bit with the characters in my stories. How does the physical description of a book character impact your view of them? Do you prefer the body perfect hero/heroine or do you prefer characters with imperfections like I do? I’d be very interested to hear your views.

Thanks Marc, I hope to be back here again in the future.

*****

Vic is a northern lass, hailing from sunny Manchester. Check out her website, facebook, facebook fan page (cool, I’ll have to get one of those, not that I have any fans) and twitter. Lots of lovely ways to contact her.