The Little Lizard Boy contest continues.
Every comment here and on my Facebook page counts as an entry!

SEXY, HAWT, SCORCHING, FILTHY, AND OMG!
THAT’S JUST PORN!

It’s a matter of personal tastes, isn’t it? Of boundaries, imagination, inhibitions or the lack thereof. One person’s sexy romance novel is another’s scorching hot read. One reader’s erotic is another reader’s filthy, and one reader’s filthy is another reader’s Oh My God! This is just pornographic!

If you’re my mother, anything after chaste kisses but before third base is filthy. Third base and beyond is porn.
It’s all subjective.

I was thinking about this recently as I was proofreading a book for one of my co-bloggers. Juniper Bell writes in a number of genres, under a number of pen names. She has an historical series coming out with Avon soon. But she also writes great erotic romance. She just got the rights back for her first book, a very hot erotic, and she’s going to self-publish it.

I loved the story—well-rounded characters, logical plot, wonderfully smooth, evocative language. And the sex!!! Hoo boy. I tweeted that I was proofing a durty, durty book. Juniper replied that it’s not that dirty—she’s written much dirtier than that. I was like, Really? Dirtier than the rec room scene? The rest of our co-bloggers (we’re the Nine Naughty Novelists just in case you want to, you know, check us out) got a kick out of that. I have an aversion to buttsecks, which always makes them laugh.

[By the way, I think I’ve finally figured out the difference between hot romance, erotic romance and erotica. If the H&H have durty, durty sex before knowing each other’s full names, and they wind up with an HEA, it’s erotic romance. If there’s no HEA, it’s erotica. You’re welcome.)

Now, I write graphic sex, but my stuff’s not as hot as Juniper’s. And although I haven’t read a lot of Delilah’s stuff (I’ve read a few titles—my sister-in-law has read nearly everything La Devlin’s written), I think Delilah’s stuff is hotter than Juniper’s. When people I know say they want to read my books, I always warn them about the graphic sex because, for people who never read romance, it might be surprising. But as far as hot romance goes, my books are not at all shocking—monogamous, hetero sex with an HEA. Pretty darned vanilla.

My mother told me this week that my books and my website are nasty, and she wishes she’d never read them. I wish she’d never read my stuff, too. I reminded her that I’ve told her, since the day I sold my first book, that she shouldn’t read it. Mom thinks oral sex is on the outer limits of human sexual perversity and that it was invented by hippies in 1968. So, no, she shouldn’t read my stuff. Unsurprisingly (if you knew my mom), she wouldn’t listen and now she’s been horrified and appalled and nauseated and honestly, it’s not my fault. (Mom was considered prude by her contemporaries back in the fifties. She didn’t like Elvis. She didn’t like Elvis.)

I will admit to being embarrassed when certain people read my stuff. Not ashamed—just embarrassed. I’m not ashamed that I have sex with my husband, but I’d be embarrassed to discuss details of it with people at church or my daughter’s school. I absolutely can’t imagine people at my church knowing about my books. More and more folks at Diva’s school know about my alter ego and so far, there have been no crowds or pitch forks.

My sister-in-law—the one who reads all of Delilah’s stuff—says that if she could write, and her books got published, she’d be so proud she’d tell everyone, including clergy and old people. I wish I could be that open and unconcerned with other peoples’ opinions.

On the other hand, when I told my mom how much I’ve earned in royalties this year, she immediately quit complaining about my shameful career as a pornographer. My mom is the most practical prude you’ll ever meet. Me, I’m just thrilled that people like my stuff enough to pay to read it, and that werewolf lovin’ is helping my family get through a very lean period.

What’s all this got to do with werewolves? Nothing. The following excerpt isn’t even a love scene. Oh well—I promise you, there’s a great sex scene in Ready to Run. But it’s not Juniper or Delilah hot.
And that’s okay. It’s all subjective.

Kinsey Holley is the pen name of a sweet middle-aged Catholic lady in Houston, Texas. She lives at www.kinseyholley.com and Nine Naughty Novelists. She spends way too much time on Twitter, and she loves to get email at kinseyholley@gmail.com.

And she’s seriously considering writing a BDSM story. She’s just not sure she’d have the guts to publish it. Maybe she needs a new pen name…

Ready to Run is the latest book in her Werewolves in Love series.
 
Sometimes a girl’s gotta save herself.

A Werewolves in Love story.

Sara Hedges had planned to escape the backwater, bigoted town of Luxor, Texas on the wings of a college degree—not on the back of a Harley, riding for her life.

Just a couple months shy of loading up her Miata, however, betrayal bares its ugly fangs. Her scumbag uncle has sold her to a pack of werewolves willing to pay any price for her special bloodline and it looks like there’s no way out. She never expected the new-in-town, sex-on-a-stick loner to come riding to her rescue. Or to discover he’s a werewolf, too. A good one…with one too many secrets.

Bryan Keeton waited two months deep undercover for the chance to get his hands on one of the gangster Eurowolves wreaking havoc across the South. After calling in the FBI to blow the lid off Luxor, he’d planned to leave town before he did something he might regret—like get involved with the suspect’s niece.
But Sara makes him stupid. And now they’re on the run from the Feds, who aren’t interested in her innocence, and from the wolves who want her for their own personal squeaky toy…

Warning: This story includes an undercover alpha with a sexy Texan drawl, a heroine with a dangerous secret, a ring of wolves willing to pay just about anything to own her, and a small town that needs to learn a little something about tolerance.

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Writing Good Sex

As an erotica author, I’m asked so many times where I get my inspiration from. I have to be honest, much of what I write comes from experience. Now before you all gasp and I’m labelled something I’m not (I’ve been the same man since I was twenty-one) I have had good sex. I’m talking all kinds; passionate, dirty, with a vast range of toys and other funs things going on.

There are some things I haven’t experienced. I’ve not had any forays into any lesbian encounters but in those situations, I’ve got a pretty decent imagination, and hell, haven’t we all fantasized?

So when I’m writing, I definitely use my own personal experiences to help describe the sex in my books. And writing good sex is all about the description. The reader wants to be taken along with every last lick and suck and nibble. They want to feel exactly what the characters are feeling and, by reading, experience the range of sensations and emotions for themselves.

When I first started writing erotica, I never imagined it would be of benefit in my regular writing (I also write paranormal fiction) but it definitely has. I’m so much more aware now of how I’m conveying the senses of my characters to my readers. I now consciously think about every sense; the taste of salt on someone’s skin, the musky scent of a woman’s arousal, the hard ridge of muscle on a man’s stomach. In erotica, we want details. We want to know everything the character is experiencing.

Here is a “no-no” when it comes to writing erotica. Never, ever finish a really hot sex scene with “and then he/she came…” Just like real sex, it’s all about the big “O”. The reader wants to experience every toe-curling, body shuddering, last delightful thrust of it. The orgasm is the turning point in the story, the moment when the couple (or more) go from that height of excitement into whatever relationship they’ll have going forward.

I read a discussion recently about whether a virgin would be able to write good erotica. Surely, like many other things an author may write about (sci-fi authors describing going into space/horror authors describing being eaten by zombies/historical authors describing living in the 1800’s) just because they haven’t actually done any of it, doesn’t mean they should be any less good at writing about it. It’s a good argument but it’s one I would have to disagree with. Writing erotica is all about the sensations and if it’s a feeling you’ve never experienced properly (or at all!) how can you properly convey it to others?

Sure, the type of sex we want to read about might not be quite what we’re used to experiencing—the setting is bound to be sexier, the characters are going to be hotter (no beer bellies or saggy bits please!) but that doesn’t mean we can’t add a little of our own experiences to our tales.

So here’s what I think, to all those would-be erotica authors out there. Want to write about toys or anal, then why not give it a go first? After all, there is no better research than experiencing something for yourself and if you want to write about it, why the hell not have a bit of fun at the same time!

M.K. Elliott was born in Devon, England, where she now lives with her husband , two young daughters, a mad Spanish rescued dog and four hens. Though she has a degree in Zoology, her true love has always been writing and she now works as a full time author. M.K. writes everything from contemporary romance to steaming hot erotica, and her love of travel and adventure is her main influence in her stories.

M.K. is the author of the Barnes & Noble best-selling collection, Rescued. She’s also had a number of titles in the Amazon top 100 for erotica, including Rescued, Some Love it Hot, and her bi-sexual vampire novella, Deadly Beauty. Her latest short story collection, Some Love it Rough is now available to buy from Amazon.com.

You can find out more about M.K. by visiting her Facebook page or by following her on Twitter.

Remember, the Little Lizard Boy contest continues.
Every comment here and on my Facebook page counts as an entry!

A reminder to all you writers out there! Submissions for Cleis Press’s The Cowboy will close at the end of this month! Details regarding the guidelines can be found here: Submission Guidelines

For the rest of you, I’m heading to Memphis tomorrow and have guest bloggers lined up to keep you entertained. Be sure to drop by and say hello!

Friday—Marissa Elliott
Saturday—Kinsey Holley
Sunday—Ann Jacobs

Now, I know you want to find something to say today so you’re entered in that FABOO contest, I’ll pose a question…

Which punctuation mark would best describe your personality?

Thank you so much Delilah, for having me here at your blog today!

Lately, I’ve been blogging about the kind of BDSM stories I write and why I like to write them. My BDSM stories are romantic, sexy stories about the journey of self-discovery my characters take as they fall in love.

This week one of my characters is appearing at another blog in the Perfect Man Event (Day Dreaming) and he had to answer questions about what qualifies him to be the perfect man. Well, Gabe (from Power Shift,) was a tad uncomfortable answering those questions about himself, but the questions made me think about all my Dominant heroes and what they have in common. I’ve written a story about a Dom who’s just discovering his dominant side (Dev in Power Struggle) and stories about more experienced Doms, including Gabe in Power Shift, but the thing they all have in common is that they are caring Doms.

Because the Dominant in a relationship has power, he (and I only say “he” because my stories feature males Doms—certainly the Dom in a relationship can be a woman) he also has great responsibility. Just like Spiderman says. He is responsible for his submissive’s safety and her pleasure. That means knowing her, knowing what she wants and needs, knowing how far to take her. A caring Dom is kind and thoughtful. He loves and cherishes his sub. He takes care of his sub physically, mentally, emotionally, sexually. He provides safety and security and acceptance, and gives her the confidence and strength to give herself totally into his care. And although he takes control, he is ultimately controlling himself. He recognizes that even in a D/s relationship there has to be a balance of power and that it takes caring and understanding and commitment to achieve that balance. And he also recognizes that the journey of self-discovery never ends and there is always more to learn.

Here’s a short excerpt featuring Gabe and Reagan, from Power Shift:

He rolled her to her back, mouth still joined to her, so he could slide one hand up her body and cup one of her sweet breasts, so soft, so lush. It filled his hand perfectly, absolute perfection. He lowered his mouth to her breast and tugged her nipple into his mouth, tonguing it, sucking it, and she writhed beneath him, arching her back, pushing herself up to his mouth. Her fingers slid into his hair, scraped across his scalp and more sizzles cascaded over his skin. He growled.

She just wouldn’t give up on hurting him. Then he almost smiled, his mouth still closed over her nipple. She liked to make him feel things, and yet he knew she would never really hurt him. He trusted her, and she challenged him, every time, and he had to admit he’d never loved the thrill of a challenge more than with her.

His throat constricted and he bent his head, his heart pounding, taking a moment to get control of his emotions. And then he paused. Why was he hiding his feelings from her? She’d seen him at his most vulnerable. So he lifted his head and stared into her face.

She gazed back at him, and her expression shifted and her eyes flickered as she took him in. Her hands came to his head, his face, a tender smile curving her lips, and he swallowed hard at the love and respect and devotion he saw there. “I don’t know how to say it,” he choked out. “Other than I love you, Reagan.”

She stroked his hair and his rough cheek and he turned his mouth into her palm and kissed it, closing his eyes.

Then he knew what he had to say to her. “Reagan.” He looked at her and her eyes focused on him. “I don’t want to own you or control you. I want to care for you, and look after you but I want to tell you that…I will spend my life encouraging you. Making you stronger. And in doing that I know you’ll make me a better man.”

His words were like a sacred vow and her eyes glowed. “Gabe. Thank you. We’ll make each other better. I love you too.” Her gaze held his, her words too like a vow, a promise. “I love your strength, your honor. I love how unselfish you are and how you repay my trust in you with care. I love how you found the strength to be vulnerable with me when I know how much it scared you.”

“Sweetheart. I could say the same to you. I know you didn’t want to make yourself vulnerable again.” Admiration and pride expanded inside him.

She nodded, eyes full of love and worship. “Thank you.”

“We both have to be willing to surrender,” he whispered, moving over her, between her legs. He took his weight on his elbows, arms beside her head on the pillow, hands in her hair. “I know that now.”

Here’s where you can find Kelly:
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Goodreads
Kelly’s Yahoo Newsletter Group
Nine Naughty Novelists

You know, I look far and wide for special things to bring you! While I was at the Authors After Dark conference in Philadelphia last weekend, there was a vendor with dolls I couldn’t resist. Here’s one I bought especially with my wicked little devils in mind!

If you love it and want to see what else the dollmaker has to offer, follow this link:
Mistress Rae’s Decadent Designs

What do you have to do to win this precious little bottle doll? Post comments on my blog or my Facebook page. Every comment you make over the next two weeks will count as one entry.

The contest ends August 30th!

Last night, I dreamt John Wayne was my husband and that he was the captain of the U.S.S. Minnow. I’ll tell you a tail of sailing ship… Oh, and he was “grounded” from work for drinking and working in the control tower. Yeah, dreams don’t have to make sense, do they?

Only it kind of does given my odyssey yesterday. I almost got bumped from my flight, Philly to Atlanta, because Delta overbooked my one PM flight by five people. Hey, any other industry and that would be considered fraud! I did get on that flight and thought my troubles were over. Noooooo!

Our plane arrived late in Atlanta. Delta’s booking people told me they couldn’t confirm me for another flight until three the next day. I sat on standby for two more flights to Little Rock, then went begging an attendant to get me the hell out of the airport. “Fly me to Dallas, I’ll take a damn rental car home!” She took pity on me. At 7:20, I boarded a flight to Memphis. When I told the Red-Headed Hellion on the phone, she said, “Rental car? Pffft!” She drove the three and a half hours to pick me up. We got home about one AM.

Horror story over? Nah! My luggage didn’t come to Memphis. It flew to Little Rock and the airport closes at ten PM. So someone has to make another trip today to pick it up!

Anyway, I do have some fun stuff I brought back from the conference, pictures to share… Just not today. I do, however, have a winner!

The winner of the Fugly Ring Contest is…Tammy Ramey! 8) Tammy, congratulations! Be sure to email me with your snail mail address and I’ll get your huge sparkly into the mail for you!

Be back tomorrow for the start of a brand new contest!

Last week, I became exceedingly angry at one of my favorite talk show hosts, to the point where I phoned in and lifted my voice to the nice young woman who answered. I seldom call radio programs, but I was, as they say, about to bust a gusset. The reason? He kept referring to members of committees as “committeemen.” He did it over and over until I couldn’t contain myself.

Those of you who aren’t gray-haired old uppity women like me don’t remember the days before the female more-than-half of the species decided we ought to get the same respect and pay that men did. Back then, we had “doctors” and “lady doctors,” the second being a kind of oddity and not to be taken as seriously as the real thing. You may not have experienced the natural state of “man” back then, where virtually everything significant and remunerative was done by males. At that time, everyone on any important committee would have been male and the term “committeeman” would have been accurate. In short, you’ve never faced a world where women served as the Ladies’ Auxiliary of the human race. I have, and I have no intention of going back there. Ever.

So, why then did I describe my latest short from Changeling Press to my Romance Writers of America chapter with such glee as: A hard driving businesswoman meets a gladiator from another planet who has a problem with women in positions of authority? Shouldn’t a story about that set my hair on fire?

Well, yes and no. Yes if the hard driving businesswoman crumbles at his feet as though she were made of meringue. But, honestly, no one would want to read a story like that, anyway. We want to feel passion and fire…conflict, the engine that drives every good story. Still, in reality, wouldn’t such a woman tell him to take his attitude to someone who’d appreciate it and leave her the hell alone?

This leads us to the no part of the answer. A story where a powerful woman succumbs to the seduction of a more powerful man can provide a nice fantasy for a reader who would never allow a man to boss her around in real life. The story’s not real, and when you get right down to it, many of the things we enjoy in fiction would horrify us in real life.

As an author of erotic romance, I’ve written sexual interactions that I’d never consider performing, and I go back to the days of free love and “if it feels good, do it.” I’ve done threesomes, foursomes, exhibitionism, and bondage. I write a character Wonderslut, Avenger of the Non-Orgasmic. I had another character who hooked up with two perfect strangers to make love in their train compartment in complete darkness as the train traveled through a long tunnel. Delicious on the page but horrifying if not outright dangerous in real life.
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