Monday, January 31, 2011

Link Love

No, that's not the title of an erotic romance about either golfers or folks who are just a bit too fond of chainmail(though around here, you're forgiven for thinking either.) It's a round-up of some fun stuff from around the Web. I'm a bit weary tonight, so instead of blathering on about something or another, I thought I'd share some bits of goodness I've found elsewhere. Surprisingly enough, you can click on most of these links at the office and not risk appalling/offending/arousing your co-workers. It's not all about the sex here. Just usually.

It's Only a be creative or not to be. This blog is put together by my very creative friend Kathie, who also writes the cozy and thought-provoking simple living blog, Two Frog Home.

And because I find other people's creative processes fascinating, an interview with the above-mentioned Kathie.

Important safety tips for the published
(or soon to be published, or hoping to be published) writer.

Book trailer for Gotta Have It: 69 Stories of Sudden Sex. (OK, this one is decidedly NSW). I'm in the book, but not in the trailer, except as a quick mention of the title, "Laughter in Hades."

And because every writer (heck, every working person) needs tasty recipes that all but cook themselves, a sample from a very handy Website.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Yeah, yeah, yeah, more promo

But it beats bitching about the snow, doesn't it? I could go on and on about snow, except I have reason to be grateful for snow today. Thanks to snow, I was already working from home when the migraine started and thus was able to take the Good Drugs [tm] before my head entirely burst into flame. Though I suppose I'd be warm with my head on fire.

Anyway, on to the actual point of this post...and there is one, underneath all the migraine-med-induced rambling....

Sacchi Green has posted about her new anthology, Lesbian Cops, which...surprise surprise...has one of my stories in it. Check out the post and you can learn about all the hot stories, not just mine.

I think the cover is quite striking--arresting, even, if you'll excuse the horrid pun. However, I'm sad to report that none of Himself's co-workers look like that (or present the equivalent male level of modelesque hotness).

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

I wrote tonight.
That, I know, should scarcely merit a post. After all, I'm a writer.
I'm a writer who works outside the home a minimum of 9 hours a day, usually more, plus close to two hours of car commuting on a good day--and both yesterday and today were not good days in the wonderful world of navigating the highways of Massachusetts. Yesterday we had snow that turned to freezing rain and was a terrible mess. Today...the roads were dry in the morning and merely wet tonight, but things were still slow.
Days when I leave the house before 7 AM and get home at 7 PM make me inclined to have a Scotch and curl up with a good book. I even have a good book awaiting a few hours to read it (Side Jobs, a collection of Jim Butcher shorts in the Harry Dresden universe).
But I wrote instead. Not a lot, and more roughly than on a better day. But I wrote. I also paid bills and did some promo, but what matters most to my heart is I wrote.
And that makes all the difference in the world.
Time to tip over now.

(PS: There were no actual fireworks tonight--I took that picture at the Jaffrey Fireworks Festival last summer--but it expresses how gleeful I feel to finally write again._

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

And the winner is...


Congratulations, winner! I've sent you an email with the e-book attached.

Thanks to everyone who played.

Monday, January 10, 2011

"Fools' names as well as faces...

oft are seen in public places."

That's a quote from my grandmother's grandfather, who was a fairly noted architect in his era, but so modest his family cemetery plot didn't have any grave markers on it, let alone the ostentatious ones beloved by middle-class Victorians--just a small tag, "Keely," on the fence that marked off the area.

I suspect he wouldn't approve of the way I toot my own horn in public constantly. As a Victorian Catholic gentleman, he would certainly not approve of the erotic books I'm promoting.

But I digress. I'm here to toot my own horn again quickly and say that Threshing the Grain is live. Actually on sale. A real, genuine book.

And I am very excited indeed, and more than a little nervous. It's an act of faith to write a book and perhaps an even greater one to send it forth into the world, to be read or ignored by the masses. Good luck, little book. May you make many friends--and may some of them not be afraid to share your name and face/cover in public places.

Sunday, January 09, 2011

Contest! Win a copy of Threshing the Grain

It's that time again! Comment before January 15 for a chance to win a copy of Threshing the Grain: Seasons of Sorania Cycle 3, which releases tomorrow from Phaze. (Edited because the book's now officially released into the wild!)

Dark fantasy romance with satyrs (the mysterious, sexy kind), demons (the scary, ugly kind), brave humans fighting against dangerous magic, and kinky sex (all the hot kinds). What's not to like?

Thursday, January 06, 2011

New Book!

I have a new book on the way. On January 10, Threshing the Grain releases from Phaze. Threshing the Grain is the third in the Seasons of Sorania Cycle from Phaze, fantasy romances rich in magic and kinky sex. This one features both a demon and satyrs!

Watch this space, because I'll do a giveaway as soon as I have copies!


Service. Honor. Sacrifice. Being a Soranian Lord or Lady means putting the needs of the land and its inhabitants before your own and performing the magic necessary to ensure good harvests and good health. Adimir, son of the Lord and Lady of Thelana, was raised to serve his estate and people and his physician-wife Miryea supports him—especially in the parts involving sex-magic and spanking.

But when portents suggest Adimir must give his life to destroy a demon, Miryea fights back with powers of her own, powers she’s still learning to use. An ancient, wise satyr from the hills of Thelana holds the secret to defeating the demon, but it’s trapped in his memory by magic. To release it, Miryea needs to take a leap of faith into the satyr’s arms and work sex magic and healing magic in ways she never knew she could.

She finds her answer, but it demands yet another shocking price. Can submissive Miryea find the courage to hurt and humble the man she loves in order to save him and the people of Thelana?


[Miryea's] first vision--and so far their only shared vision--had followed the ritual spanking on the spring equinox.

“Should I…” he asked, and in answer, she shifted so she presented her ass to him.

“Make it hard,” she begged, although she didn’t know if that was the gods offering inspiration or her own instinct wanting the sharp, physical pain to offset the pain in her soul.

And he complied.

He used more force than he usually would, and the first few blows simply hurt. Tears filled her eyes and she bit into the bedclothes to keep from crying out in a way that would panic the servants.

She would endure. She owed it to Adimir.

More than endure, she would enjoy. She must enjoy, because she’d gain no visions if she felt no bliss.

As he continued, the throbbing pain began to transmute to reluctant pleasure, but her mind was distracted and her body wasn’t cooperating and the tears still threatened to come. She bit her lip to keep them back, although she felt like she was cutting off her desire as well.

Pleasure was there, just out of reach, but fear and despair blocked her. She squirmed, struggled, trying to get away from the pain--and, paradoxically, from the ecstasy that threatened to follow it, because what kind of woman would have orgasms when her husband’s life was in jeopardy?

“Let me try something,” Adimir took up her abandoned sash. “Put your hands behind your back,” he said, in a way that brooked no argument, a way that, despite everything, went straight to her clit.

She complied, and shuddered as he wrapped the embroidered red silk around her wrists, binding them together. She could still move, could still squirm away almost as easily as before, but safe in the silken bonds, she lost her will to do so. The simple binding made her his prisoner, removed her choice--

Let her open herself.

Off balance now, unable to hold herself up, she had no choice but to press herself forward, face among the bed-linens, ass in the air.

“Lovely,” he said, and sounded like he meant it.

A few more thwacks and she filled her mouth with wool and linen, trying not to weep, trying not to cry out from the tangled pain and pleasure and love and fear. Adimir pressed his free hand on the back of her neck, and the gentleness and strength behind that touch, the love and the authority, let her break down. Tears flowed as if she’d been holding them back for months rather than days. And as she cried, he stopped spanking her, cupped between her legs. His fingers found her clit, worked their magic as they always did.

It shouldn’t have been enough--enough to give her pleasure, certainly, but not enough to send her into the spirit world. But this time as the world started to shatter into bright shards of ecstasy, Miryea remembered something of her lessons in magic and sent a little of herself between those shards deliberately, for the first time ever.

The room blurred and spun. She closed her eyes and saw the harvest moon and the stars heavy above Thermanae, and felt a cool breeze scented with wild thyme and goat dung and smoke from an olive-wood fire, although it was still warm and humid in Arlind.

And when she opened them again, the harvest moon hung huge and red in the star-studded night sky, staining the harsh beauty of the hills not with blood, but wine. Never mind the full moon was still over a fortnight away, past the time of the Harvest Festival this year, and the hills of Thermanae were a day’s ride, and she was in the satrap’s palace in Arlind with her shutters closed and her face pressed into her bed-linens.