We're talking about first kisses today over at the Nine Naughty Novelists, and I have an excerpt posted there. But I can never stop at one...especially when the subject is excerpts...or kisses.
So I'm offering a couple more, including an unedited look at my new novella, Edge of Heaven. Edge and Mattie's first kiss can be found at The Midnight Bell
Pisces are nothing if not compassionate. Abandoned puppies, orphaned children, wounded men; we want to save them all. Derek was looking very wounded, and it made me forget all about being nervous.
“I’m with you now, aren’t I?” I asked. I closed the distance between us and framed his face with my hands, intending to reassure him with a simple kiss. But he pre-empted my kiss with one of his own, sweeping me into a tight embrace, molding me to him, slanting his mouth over mine. I opened my mouth on a sigh and his tongue swept in. There it was again. A rush of heat. A feeling of home. The been-here-done-this, déjà vu feeling that only being with a soul mate can give you.
A man’s kiss is his signature. Mae West said that. Pretty insightful for a Leo. I felt like my soul had known Derek’s kisses in a dozen different lifetimes. If we’d done this months ago, it might have saved us both a lot of waiting.
I could have gone on kissing him all night, but too soon, he was pulling away. We took turns taking off each other’s clothes; slowly, deliberately, breaking eye contact only when the need to see or to taste what we were uncovering became too overwhelming to ignore. I was right about the tan. I was right about a lot of things.
If you liked this excerpt, please be sure and check out all the other smokin’ “First Kiss” excerpts at The Nine Naughty Novelists
Well, the results are in, the winers have all been chosen and I've invited a friend to drop by and give us a drumroll to accompany my announcement of the winner's names.
Doesn't she look excited? Do you suppose she thinks she's won something too? Let's not tell her she hasn't yet.
We do want that drumroll...right?
First prize: Jewel
Banged Up – Jeanne St. James
Hearts Afire – 3E’s
Afterthought – Cat Kane
Love at First Stake – J. Morgan
No Recourse – Mari Carr
Second prize: Patsy Hagen
Bound by Deception – Christa Paige
Once Bitten – Trina M. Lee
The Challenge – Serena Shay
Third prize: Fallon Hadley
Scent of Cin – Ella Drake
Halo in her Pocket – Morgan Q. O’Reilly
Felicia’s Fling – Jolie Cain
Runner Up: Sherry
The Wicked Flame – Stephanie Adkins
Winners choice from Tielle St. Claire
Runner Up: Noelle
Intimate Strangers – Gem Sivad
For a Price – Olivia Brynn
Runner Up: s7anna Iron – P.G. Forte
The Extremist – Juniper Bell
And, just because I do love winners, I'm giving away a second copy of Iron to the first person who writes in and correctly names that drum!!
Um, I don't mean the drum itself, I'm asking what that type of drum is called.
And speaking of Iron...
Even though it was mysteriously missing from the polls this morning, my book, Iron, is also up for book of the week at Whipped Cream/Long and Short Reviews.
Personally, I blame the pixies for all the confusion.
But if anyone has not yet voted for one of the many other fine books that are up there this week and would be so inclined to cast your vote its way, I'd be hugely and eternally grateful.
And here's what Holly had to say about it in her review:
"Iron is a tale of love lost, passion denied, and a reawakening of desire long buried.
I love that as the story goes on, Aislinn convinces Gavin that anything agreed upon in their bed is acceptable, as long as they both agree. And I also loved that Gavin came to appreciate Aislinn for herself, needing her to be his wife as herself. The sex is sizzling, and more so because of the time setting. There are tears and laughter here, and the happy ever after is an unusual one.
If you enjoy magic and history, this is the book for you."
We're talking, of course, about eye candy. And I've assembled a collection of costumed cuties for your viewing pleasure...
I put this guy first in honor of all the truly hot Firefighter stories Liquid Silver Books has been putting out this year. Get it? Putting out? Fires? Yeah, I know. Bad pun. *g*
Cowboy dude has to come next because I know so many people adore them. Personally, my tastes run a little more to the urban side of things...
Urban Fantasy, that is. These two would fit right in withIn the Dark, my first vampire story, coming out in December. And, speaking of which...
Yeah, I don't know what his costume is supposed to be, but he looks just like one of my main characters, so he stays. But, moving right along...
Skater Dude took the easy way out with his costume, but I don't think we should hold it against him. And at least he made more of an effort than this guy:
Hmm. Don't think I'll hold that against him, either.
Oops. Guess these guys weren't ready...
"Come as you are, as you were, as you..." Oh, sorry. Got carried away. Yep. This guy's dressed up as the late Kurt Cobain.
I've included him mostly because Kurt was a Pisces and no blog post can possibly be considered complete without at least one random astrology reference, IMO.
This one is in honor of my newly completed Angel story, Edge of Heaven. Very excited about that one. We'll see where it ends up...
Um, yeah, well...these two don't really need an explanation, do they? Sometimes, pictures really are worth a thousand words, I guess...
Okay, I know. You're probably saying, "Uh...PG? This is a costume?" But, yes, in fact, it just so happens it is. This guy has come to the party dressed as one of the heroes in Cooper Davis' excellent novella, Boys of Summer.
And that pretty much wraps up my contribution to the tour. From here you'll want to head over to Cat Kane's blog at: http://catkane.blogspot.com
Cat's super hot novella Afterthought is just one of the many fabulous books you could win today.
And, just in case you've stumbled onto this tour by accident, here's a brief re-cap of the rules:
There are twenty-two blogs to visit along the way, starting with Gem Sivad's blog:http://gemsivad.wordpress.com/blog/ Just follow the trail and leave a comment at each stop along the way. If you get lost, there's a map located HERE. Winners will be announced tomorrow. Good luck and have fun!
Be sure to check back here on Friday, October 30 for some fabulous Halloween eye candy and a chance to win some even more fabulous books. Here are the deets...
Follow the Trail...
Gem Sivad – http://gemsivad.wordpress.com/blog/
Trina M Lee- http://www.trinamlee.com/
Emily/Elise – http://www.scorchedsheets.com/blog
Juniper Bell – http://www.authorjuniperbell.blogspot.com
Morgan Q. O’Reilly – http://themorgandiaries.blogspot.com
Tielle St. Clare – http://tiellestclare.blogspot.com/
Tina Holland – http://tinaholland.wordpress.com/
What you could win...
The Rules of the Game...
Just stop by each of the blogs on the list, enjoy the tasty treats we'll be providing, and leave a comment at every stop to be entered to win. Winners will be notified on Halloween. Additionalcontests may be offered along the way, so come and play!
PG Forte www.pgforte.com Love without Limits, Romance without Rules IRON -- Liquid Silver Books -- September '09 In the Dark -- Samhain Publishing-- December '09
This is an essay in defense of life-altering sex scenes. But, first, the disclaimer:
I like writing sex. I have, in fact, gone so far as to suggest that writing sex is the next best thing to having sex. As it happens, my husband doesn’t exactly agree with this. Oddly, he has yet to realize his determination to prove to me how much better the real thing is, doesn’t actually motivate me to concede the point all that quickly. Or at all. Hey, I’m no dope. But that’s another story. Let’s move on…
So, the other day I was working on another of the interminable, ubiquitous scenes of life-altering sex for which I’m justifiably (at least in my own mind) well-known, and I started to feel just the teensiest bit depressed.
First of all, I was hoping the scene wouldn’t read as interminable or overly-ubiquitous (‘cause, wow, wouldn’t that be redundant) but after spending a multiplicity of days writing the darn thing, it was sure starting to feel like that to me. Yes, Virginia, too much of a good thing is still too much—even if you’re talking about sex or chocolate.
And, sadly for me, since the scene in question takes place in 15th century Spain—where, if you can imagine, people hadn’t even yet heard of chocolate—I was left with just the sex.
Just the seemingly endless, quasi D/s, 15th century, gay, vampire sex. WTF, right?
Not surprisingly, given the circumstances, I started hearing those nasty ghost voices in my head. You know the ones I mean. They’re the Ghosts of Snarky Reviewers Future, people who haven’t yet read this book I’m not finished writing and who already are telling me, “What is this crap you’re writing? Tell us how this isn’t porn.”
The worst thing about it was…I could kinda see their point. And, being the chronically self-doubting, borderline paranoid writer that I am, I naturally found myself second-guessing my own story. Was I writing porn? Or, even worse from my perspective, was I writing self-indulgent, trend-pandering crap?
Let me just spell it out for you again (‘cause, yeah, I do get a kick outta saying it, actually, thanks for asking). 15th century, gay, vampire, D/s sex—you have to wonder, don’t you? I mean is there any trend I’ve missed with that list?
Well, there’s always amnesia, obviously, but I really think once was enough for that.
And, it was life-altering sex too—let’s not forget that—which is when I started to get seriously depressed. ‘Cause, honestly, how often is real-life sex all that life altering? I mean, is it? Really? In your own personal experience? Even if you’re getting all Tantric about it?
Paradoxically enough, that’s also the thought that made me start feeling better about things. Because—duh—this isn’t real-life. It’s fiction. And if the fictional sex scenes you’re writing don’t have some kind of meaningful impact on the characters (even if the impact is a sudden realization that all the sex they’ve been having is relatively meaningless) then you probably are writing porn.
Porn, to my way of thinking, is when you’ve tossed a bunch of sex into a story for reasons that have nothing to do with the actual story. Possibly because there is no story. Boy meets girl, boy screws girl, boy screws girl again—or boy screws two girls, or two girls and another boy, or a whole bunch of boys and no girls, or whatever?
Yeah. Not a story. Not all by itself, anyway. No matter how inventive, well-written or even entertaining it may be.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized the same can be said of any scene in fiction. If it doesn’t move the story forward in some fashion, if it doesn’t have impact for the characters or resonate with them, if it doesn’t illuminate some facet of the characters’ personalities (if it’s not, IOW, life-altering) it probably doesn’t belong in the book.
This is why I really like to plot my stories out before I start writing. It keeps me on the right (non-porn) track. Pantsing, i.e. writing by the seat of one’s pants (sounds kinda dirty in this context, doesn’t it?) doesn’t work for me. I tend to end up with a lot of those entertaining (possibly even well-written and inventive) scenes that don’t really serve the story and which need to be deleted because, like I said at the start, this really isn’t porn that I’m writing. It’s a love story. A sexually explicit, decidedly fantastical and, yes, thank you very much, life-altering love story between two of my absolutely favorite characters to date. And no chocolate.
Being the voluble and egregiously opinionated person that I am, I have my own thoughts on the career VS hobby debate that’s been going on (seemingly forever) at RWA. At first glance, it might seem like the question—what makes someone a career author as opposed to a hobbyist—would be an easy one to answer.
Many of us have careers—you know, those things that typically eat up all the time we have left over after we’ve taken care of family obligations, swallowed a few bites of food and gotten our four-to-five hours of sleep each night? Usually, for most of us that have them, our career is also the way in which we earn our living. Which is not to say that money = career all the time.
Doctors frequently start out owing more than they make and actors…well, sometimes they never get past that point. Which is why their day jobs are called jobs and acting is well…still not a hobby. But, suffice it to say that income is usually some part of the career equation.
Most of us are also pretty confident we know what hobbies are. They're things like reading, bird watching, knitting, stamp collecting, golfing, bowling, tying flies; activities and interests that frequently appear impossibly tedious to those who don’t share our enjoyment. But, to those of us who choose to indulge in them, our hobbies are pleasurable pastimes, possibly even addictions.
I don’t know, is eating chocolate a hobby, do you think?
But, however much we might enjoy them, our hobbies are not the kind of thing we would typically offer in answer to the question: And what do you do?
Also, although we may occasionally enter contests that involve our hobbies, some of which may or may not offer cash prizes, our hobbies are not, generally speaking, the kinds of activities we look to monetize.
Although the eating chocolate thing—that would be fun to try, wouldn’t it?
Now, since English is a living language, unlike Latin, I realize that certain words, such as career, hobby and…oh, I don’t know, 'excellence' springs to mind for some reason, don’t ask me why…might mean very different things to you than they do to me. So, instead of arguing over definitions, I’m going to fall back on the time-honored tradition of storytelling to make my point.
My story begins as all good stories should: It was a dark and stormy night.
Oh, wait a sec. Wrong genre. Let’s try that again…
Once upon a time there were three little authors who wanted, more than almost anything else in the world, to make a career for themselves as romance writers. These three authors took their dreams very seriously. They worked hard to hone their craft. They studied, they read, they joined big, helpful associations with long, fancy sounding names where they learned everything they could about fulls and partials and ARCs, about genres and word lengths and POVs. They learned about submission…um, no, sorry, I mean submissions. They learned about queries…
Bet you thought I was going to go somewhere else with that one too, huh?
Eventually, after much hard work and what seemed like a very long time, the three little authors accomplished something very special; something that the New York Times would have you believe every person you’ve ever met at every dinner party you’ve ever attended wants to do—but won’t. Each of the three little authors had written a book.
Now, I must pause here to explain that, were you to be hearing this read aloud by means of some sort of text-to-speech technology that the Author’s Guild would no doubt be attempting to ban (but that’s a story for another day) that last paragraph might be accompanied by the sound of a choir singing the Hallelujah Chorus, something like this:
Beautiful, isn’t it? We’ll just let that run as we continue...
The three little authors were all justly proud of their accomplishment. They were also somewhat tired and in serious need of large quantities of chocolate…and possibly tequila. But, much as they’d have liked to be able to kick back and celebrate, they knew this was no time to be resting on their laurels because, as everyone at the big helpful association with the long, fancy sounding name had been telling them, now came the really hard part: selling their books.
Of course, after the really hard part would also come the really, really hard part—promoting their books—but I’m getting ahead of myself.
So, after taking the evening off to just kind of lean against those laurels (just a little tiny bit) the next day found the three little authors back at their computers once again. They polished their manuscripts and they proofread them, they crossed their fingers and sent copies off to their critique partners asking them to be brutally honest.
Yes, they lied about that part.
And, while they waited for the critiques to come back, they made lists of all the editors and all the agents that the big helpful association with the long, fancy sounding name suggested were the only people in the whole, wide publishing world worth submitting your books to.
When, at long last, the books had been proofed and polished and critiqued to within an inch of their virtual lives, the authors, content that they’d produced the best work of which they were currently capable, kissed their books good-bye and sent them out into the big, wide publishing world in hopes they’d find a good and profitable home (preferably one where they’d enjoy a wide audience, large print runs and good distribution).
What? You really don’t kiss your books good-bye before you send them off? Okay, no matter.
Time passed. In some cases, a lot of time passed. Leaves fell. Hair turned gray. The world grew older. But, eventually, all three of the authors’ books had received rejections from all of the editors and each of the agents to whom they’d been submitted.
Audio tech notes. This part should sound something like this:
Having their dreams deferred put all three of the little authors into very gloomy moods, just like this music might. However, this is the part of the tale where things really start to get interesting; because it’s at this point that each of the three little authors decide to do things just a little differently...
The first author, still shaking her head over the latest rejection and feeling just a little discouraged, said, “Oh! This book is No Good! I shall write another one!” And she did. She shoved her first manuscript under her bed, sat back down and went right to work on her second book.
More time passed. Eventually, this book was also completed; and, after another evening of chocolate and tequila and leaning (a little more heavily this time) against the laurels, and another round of proofing and polishing and punishing critiques, the first author sent this book out into the world, as well—to all the same publishers and most of the same agents who’d received her first book. And it, too, met with rejection.
Luckily, the good people at the big, helpful association with the long, fancy sounding name had warned the authors that something like this could happen; and the three little authors understood that it could be years before they wrote something that was considered worthy of publication. So the first little author persevered. Yes, it saddened her that she still had not earned her ‘first sale’ pin from the big helpful association with the long, fancy sounding name but she continued to write book after book; all of which eventually ended up gathering dust on the floor beneath her bed. This went on for some time.
Meanwhile, the second little author was also working hard at making her dream of publication come true. She, too, had been discouraged when her first book was so definitively rejected. “Oh!” she said, carefully filing the letter away along with all the others she had received so that she could re-read them later if she needed inspiration. “This book is No Good! I shall re-write it!” And she did. Reopening the word doc where her story resided she began right away to re-work her story based on the advice and suggestions she’d received along with all those rejections.
Luckily for the second little author, she did not live in a far off century (such as the nineteen hundreds) before computers were invented, back when words like ‘cut’ and ‘paste’ had literal meanings and books took a whole lot longer to rewrite than they do today. It took the second little author very little time to make all the changes she wanted to make.
She changed the title of her book and the names of the main characters, their eye colors, their hair colors, the jobs they held, the city where they lived and all the complications that were keeping the h/h from too quickly reaching their HEA. Ever mindful of the constantly changing marketplace, the book became in turn a contemporary romance, a paranormal romance, a chick lit—oh, no, not a chick lit: that’s out—an erotic romance, an urban fantasy, and finally, a cowboy-millionaire-time travel ménage story with a secret baby-NASCAR subplot twist.
Okay, not really.
Like the first author, the second little author would occasionally send a few chapters of her WiP off to a contest where the judges for the second round were many of the same editors and agents who had already rejected her story in its original version. Sadly, however, though she continued to get really encouraging responses (along with many more contradictory suggestions on new ways to change and improve her story) just like the first author, the second author was also unable to attain her ‘first sale’ pin.
Sigh.
The third little author may have started out just as discouraged as her sisters, but she was not nearly as patient. I think she may have been feeling just a tad claustrophobic, as well. You see, everyone at the big, helpful association with the long, fancy sounding name had been insisting, for quite some time, that there was only one, very narrow path to publication success and it lay along something they liked to call the Career Development Continuum.
The third little author wasn’t feeling the CDC. For one thing, she wasn’t altogether certain what it was. For another…well, I’m not sure but I think there may have been some question in her mind about drummers...or different drummers, or—
Look, I know guitarists get all the attention, okay? But drummers have really nice arms. Check it out…
Uh, sorry. Kinda forgot where I was for a minute. Let's continue…
“I know this might not be the best book in the world,” the third little author told her cat as she crumpled up her latest rejection letter and tossed it on the floor for her to play with. “But I’ve thrown books against the wall that were a whole lot worse—and they got published! I’m going to go back online and look to see if there isn’t anyone else out there who’d be interested in publishing this book.” And she did.
She went back to the keyboard and Googled up e-pubs and small press pubs and POD pubs and Irish pubs and...well, maybe not. And, in a surprisingly short period of time (because she was able to simultaneously submit her ms electronically) the third little author found a publisher who accepted her book and sent her a contract.
The third little author was overjoyed. After dancing around the room and scaring the bejeezus out of her cat, she ran to her computer and quickly emailed the big, helpful association with the long, fancy sounding name and said: “Send me my pin!”
“No can do,” the big, helpful association with the long, fancy sounding name replied. And then they explained that they weren’t always as certain as they’d like to be that the third little author’s publisher was real…or that her books were real…or was it, they weren’t sure she was real? They seemed confused—and this confused the third little author as well.
Because, while it was true she hadn’t received the promise of a big, fat advance check from her publisher the quarterly royalty checks they sent her seemed real enough. And, yes, her friends and family who lived in far off places couldn’t always go to the large chain bookstores at their neighborhood malls and stand around admiring her books on the shelves there. But, still, those POD copies she took to booksignings at her local bookstore seemed pretty real to her too.
And—heaven knows—she received just as many interruptions while she was trying to work as she ever had from all the people she knew who’d never been convinced that writing was a real job in the first place.
She also received fan mail—and that seemed very real.
Now, because I know you're all waiting for the HEA, I’m pleased to tell you that eventually all three of the little authors achieved their NYT bestselling dreams. One fine day, when they least expected it, one of the many, many, many query letters they’d continued to send out over the years landed on the desk of a clever and discerning agent who quickly requested the full and almost as quickly sold it (at auction, in a very nice, three book deal) to a major publisher.
Note: Cue the chorus again.
The moral of the story comes in the form of a question. During all the time that the three little authors were working so very hard toward being published in a major market, only one of them was being paid for her work. Only one of them was receiving reviews and growing her fan base. Only one of them was signing books or dealing with booksellers. Only one of them was actively involved in promoting her work or was gaining experience in working with editors and cover artists and other publishing professionals.
I've been thinking a lot about the Big One lately. Fans of my LA Love Lessons series will probably remember Gabby (whose birthday is coming up in another month or so, btw. I'm sure even her detractors will have a hard time forgetting that she's a Pisces) and her own search for the Big O. Ah, if only Gabby knew that help was available right around the proverbial corner.
Dr. Ava Cadell, real-life Love Guru and the founder of the Loveology University (located in Los Angeles, where else?) could have given her quite the assist. I'm sure Dr Ava's courses would have meant an end to Gabby's waiting.
But, then again, if that were the case, I wouldn't have had a book. So I guess it's all good. ;)
With Valentine's Day fast approaching, and in connection with her new Tantric Workbook, Dr Ava is conducting her own search. She's hosting the Search for the World's Best Lover contest. Do you think you know someone who you think qualifies for the title?
If you do, and if you want a chance at winning some very cool prizes for you and your loved one--and if you happen to be someone who's not currently suffering from The World's Worst Case of Writer's Block...Not that I'd know anything about that, of course--this is the contest for you. And, a very nice Valentine's Day surprise for the lucky winner!
Sponsored by Dr Ava's Loveology University, with the winner to be announced on Valentine's Day, all you need do to in order to participate is visit the contest site and submit a short (500 words...okay, c'mon, now, that's really short!) essay explaining why the person you're nominating deserves the title.
The winner will receive either a $2000 scholarship or $1000 cash, in case you were wondering. And, in addition, just for entering you will receive a really nice certificate for your partner as well as a FREE copy of Dr Ava's e-book, 52 Sizzling Sex Secrets. Now, I don't advise saying that 3 times fast (although, it might be good exercise, come to think of it) but I'm betting that at least a few of those secrets might give your tongue better things to do than twisting itself around such lusciously alliterative lingo. Even if I am a huge fan of alliteration.
And now, Dr. Ava has been kind enough to share the following article with us all. It's a little long, but I figure my fans are used to that kind of thing...besides, we all know size matters, don't we?
I just really hope Derek is paying attention...
The Big 'O'
Your Sex Life
The Big 'O' In search of the ultimate orgasm by Dr. Ava Cadell
As humans we are always in search of the ultimate orgasm whether it’s with our soul mate, a one night stand, a bottle of booze, or mind altering drugs. It is our second basic instinct after self-preservation. So why are we seeking that euphoric, mind-blowing, earth shattering, energy melting orgasm? We seek to lose that part of ourselves which connects to the everyday and mundane, and for a brief moment of eternity reach out and feel the all-embracing Karma, the essence of the universe, making, for that one brief moment, our tiny insignificant essence part of a much greater supreme whole. Perhaps therefore, the "ultimate orgasm" is our shorthand for losing the pain and hassle of being human, and seeking to transcend the fleshly prison for one brief instant in which we can float ethereally like gods.
Choose Your Orgasm
There are many different kinds of orgasm that you can experience from stimulation of different parts of your body. Each one will create different kinds of feelings ranging from quick, short, localized, deep, concentrated, to full body orgasms. This is your opportunity to experiment with as many different kinds of orgasm as you can. Remember that orgasm is good for your health so it’s doctors’ orders!
A UniGasm
This is an orgasm where stimulation is directed to one primary erogenous zone such as the penis, prostate, testicles, clitoris, G-spot, anus, or nipples. Nipple stimulation for men and women can produce an orgasm, though it’s not as common as some of the other erogenous zones. For women, having their breasts caressed and nipples sucked releases Oxytocin, the chemical that makes them feel like they are in love. Masters and Johnson discovered that one percent of women were able to achieve orgasm from breast stimulation alone. This is an area that many men enjoy stimulating during foreplay, but rarely think of as having orgasmic potential. To give memorable oral sex on her breasts and nipples you need to understand that the size of her breasts have nothing to do with the sensitivity. Ask her if she gets turned on by having her breasts played with. If so, then follow these directions. Begin by caressing and licking both of her breasts, not just her nipples. Alternate each one as you use the flat of your tongue in lapping motions all around her breasts covering every centimeter. Follow your tongue with light fingertip caresses, leaving her nipples until last. When both breasts are suitably wet from your tongue, cup your hand over one breast at a time so that the tip of her nipple rests in between your thumb and your index finger. Squeeze the fingers together so that you raise her nipple slightly, and then begin licking it with the tip of your tongue in circular motions. After about a dozen licks or so, pucker your lips around the nipple and suck gently but firmly; let your head bob up and down simultaneously. To enhance oral nipple sensation, put an ice cube in your mouth while lavishing her orally. Don’t forget to give equal attention to both breasts and nipples. When she is climaxing do not stop or change what you are doing. Let her push you away when she is ready.
For male nipple stimulation, the directions are pretty much the same, except men are more interested in having immediate nipple contact with deeper vacuum sucking motions from the woman- not so much teasing around the nipple area. Some men enjoy having their nipples nibbled on. So ladies, it’s up to you to find out how much pain or pleasure your man wants on his nipples. Some men have one nipple that is more sensitive than the other. While you suck on one, you can pinch the other one and then ask him which one feels most erotic. You could be the first one to introduce him to a UniGasm through his nipples. Now that’s what I call creating a lasting mammary, (I mean memory)!
A BiGasm
Many people are experienced with various forms of dual stimulation—a penis and a tongue, a vagina and a tongue a finger and a tongue, and various other combinations. Here are some ideal ways to create two points of stimulation at the same time.
This will be more intense than a UniGasm so it’s worth exploring. It can be licking his testicles while masturbating his penis, sucking on her clitoris while penetrating her anus with a finger (preferably covered with a finger cot), sucking his penis while massaging the testicles, licking her perineum while fingering her vagina, and lets not forget good old fashioned penetration too. Have fun experimenting with different combinations on your lover’s body. Ask for feedback so that you know which combinations are most exciting for you both.
The TriGasm for Her
So, here’s the revolution, the ultimate orgasm—TriGasm. Afemale TriGasm is the result of arousing 3 points of pleasure, the clitoris, G-spot, and anus simultaneously. Here are some tips for you and your partner as you go off on your TriGasm exploration.
Step 1:
The woman should lie back while her partner lavishes her clitoris with oral pleasure until she has reached a level 8 on a pleasure scale of 1 to 10.
Step 2:
Change course and stimulate her vulva (outside of the vagina) in small circles with your tongue for 2 minutes.
Step 3:
Return to the clitoris and orally increase her level of pleasure to a 9, almost to the point of no return.
Step 4:
At this peak, insert your forefinger palm up into her vagina and find her G-spot, then tap, tap, tap it gently towards her navel.
Step 5:
Simultaneously with step four, stimulate her anus gently with a feather, a pinky or a vibrator to bring her to a momentous, energy-draining TriGasm!
The TriGasm for Him
The TriGasm for Men is also the result of stimulating 3 points of pleasure, the penis, the testicles and the anus simultaneously.
Step 1:
The man should lie back while his partner lavishes the head of his penis with some good oral suction until he reaches a level 8 on a pleasure scale of 1 to 10.
Step 2:
Then use your mouth and tongue to stimulate his testicles for 2 minutes while you masturbate his penis with your hand.
Step 3:
Return to the penis orally and increase his level of pleasure to a 9, almost to the point of no return.
Step 4:
At this peak, fondle his testicles as you continue to orally delight his penis and insert your forefinger palm up into his anus to find his prostate gland, then tap, tap, tap it gently.
Step 5:
If all goes well, he’ll have an unforgettable, enormous TriGasm!
Blended Orgasm
A blended orgasm is much like the BiGasm with a little twist. The intention for the blended orgasm is to make it last much longer by teasing your lover and stimulating one primary erogenous zone, then teasing another, then going back to the first and so on. Start by choosing your favorite orgasm technique (such as oral stimulation on the clitoris for a woman and oral stimulation on the penis for a guy). Get aroused to a level 6 on your pleasure scale, and then switch to another orgasm technique you enjoy (such as G-spot for a woman and prostate for a guy) and get aroused to a level 7 this time. Switch back to the first technique, raise your arousal level to 8 and then back to the second technique at least three times before reaching a level 10 on your orgasm scale.
This orgasm technique is a wonderful way to monitor your pleasure scale and is most beneficial for men who suffer from premature ejaculation. Whenever they feel like they are about to reach their orgasm, they move their attention to another erogenous zone to distract the point of no return action.
Mind over Body Orgasm
Since the brain is the most erotic organ in the body, it should be no surprise that you can think your way to orgasm. Sexual thoughts can activate the brain just like sexual touching does. If you’ve ever enjoyed looking at porn, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Visuals of people having sex can automatically trigger your body into a state of arousal, making women wet and giving men erections. If you continued to watch erotica without touching yourself, you could still experience a full-blown orgasm. Even if you’re not into porn, you can achieve a mind over body orgasm by tapping into all of your five senses. To begin, wet your genitals with your own saliva or some lubricant, and then using only your imagination, think about what your lover’s tongue would feel like between your legs; what he or she smells like when fully aroused; visualize what they look like naked; imagine touching, kissing, licking and tasting his or her body. Hear them moaning with pleasure. Become aware of your own feelings as you let your excitement build. The trick here is not to touch yourself, but to let the ebb and flow of your orgasm take you on a mental journey to sexual ecstasy. This can also be fun to do with a partner as a safe sex activity.
Orgasm enables us to surrender complete control
Orgasm is the best form of escape from reality
Orgasm is the most natural high
Orgasm is wired to our brain, not between our legs
Orgasm gives us indisputable confidence
Orgasm teaches us to accept who we are
Orgasm satisfies us physically
Orgasm satisfies us emotionally
Orgasm can be a spiritual experience
Orgasm is addictive
Orgasm cannot be hurried or pushed by anyone
Orgasm can unite two lovers into one
If you have never experienced an orgasm you may be suffering from gynecological, hormonal, or even neurological disorders, but more commonly you could have a psychological block such as:
This is my first attempt at remote posting. Apologies ahead of time if I make a mess!
THE OBERON CHRONICLE
Volume 5, Issue 1 January, 2009
A New Beginning...
Let me apologize right off the bat and admit I stole the title of this article from Star Wars. What can I say? I’m in that kind of a mood. Besides, it’s January—start of a new year. Almost the start of a new decade, or at least getting closer. The aughts are almost over or, as my brother likes to call them, the oh-ohs.
I really think he might be onto something with that. Haven’t the last eight years felt like one, painfully long, series of mis-steps?
In addition, of course, we also have a new president and while maybe a return to something approaching normalcy is too much to hope for, at the moment, we can continue to be hopeful, just the same.
I’m hoping to introduce some new features to the newsletter this year. This issue is rather spare—I’ve no new releases and no new reviews to report (or brag about). But I’m hoping to add my own reviews of some of the books I’ve been reading along with the occasional interview.
On a more personal note, my son is twenty-one and later this year my daughter turns eighteen. Now, that really feels like a new beginning to me! But, the new beginning I’m most pleased to be able to announce is the up-coming re-release of the entire Oberon series in print.
Yep, you read that right. If everything goes as planned, the first three volumes—with their brand, spankin’ new covers—should be available for purchase within the next few months. Definitely something I’m looking forward to! So, if you belong to a book club, know the book buyers at your local libraries, or have an interest in helping set up book signings—please let me know! I love signing books. Have pen, will travel.
In other news: This month, I’ll be hosting Dr Ava Cadell (author of the Tantric Sex Workbook) on my blogs. Here are the links:
January 19-23 at The Midnight Bell http://ping.fm/8RxFP The subject is Tantric Kissing
January 26-30 at Rhymes with Foreplay http://ping.fm/2Clay The subject is ‘The Big O’ Gee, wonder why I’m interested in that one? ;)
February 2-6 at The Crone’s Nest http://ping.fm/TwXbZ where the Oberon Book Club will be reviewing the Workbook. Should be lots of fun!
Dr Ava is also hosting a contest this month (just in time for Valentine’s Day) The ‘Search for the World’s Best Lover Contest costs nothing to enter and offers some great prizes--including a copy of 52 Sizzling Sex Secrets which you get just for entering! Write a brief essay on why the person you’re nominating should win and you’ll also receive a nice certificate for your loved one and a chance to win a free scholarship to Dr Ava’s Loveology University. For more information check out her website at: http://ping.fm/UUguN
I’ve also been expanding my web presence in the past few months and can now be found on Facebook and Twitter...hope to see you there!
This Month’s Excerpt
From
Sound of a Voice That is Still
In this month’s (slightly edited for language) excerpt, set in late January--hey, what a coincidence, huh?--Siobhan pays a visit to her sister’s teashop. I always liked writing the teashop scenes...
The door to the teashop burst open and a gust of wind propelled yet another of Marsha’s friends into the shop. Scout Patterson pushed the door closed behind her, dumped her umbrella into the bucket beside the door and advanced towards them, shaking back her hood and pulling open the hooks of her jacket as she did.
"I hate this weather," Scout snarled as she dropped, damp and disheveled, into an empty chair. "I hate the rain. I hate the cold. I hate the mud. I hate my car. And, oh, God do I hate being pregnant."
"Those last few months do seem to last forever." Marsha nodded sympathetically at her friend, but Lucy Greco-Cavanaugh, cousin to Scout’s husband Nick, looked up from the beekeeper’s catalogue she’d been immersed in and frowned at them both.
"What are you two talking about?" she snapped. "How can anyone hate being pregnant? I loved being pregnant. I mean, what’s not to like?"
Scout glowered at her friend. Probably debating the usefulness of suggesting to Lucy that she try not to take it personally. Completely useless, as Siobhan could have told her. Lucy took everything personally. Especially anything connected to her family.
"Well, let’s see." Scout cast a longing look at the large bowl, brimming with foam, that steamed peacefully on the table in front of Lucy. "Among other things, there’s the lack of caffeine. Mornings like this, that seems like a huge concession to have to make."
"Oh, big deal. So have a decaf, then," Lucy grumbled, as she picked up the bowl and sipped at her latte.
"Or how about some tea?" Siobhan suggested, remembering how badly milk had sat with her stomach during her own pregnancy.
"Maybe." Scout glanced doubtfully first at the teapot, and then at Marsha. "What’d you put in it this time?"
"Mostly green tea," Marsha said. "Along with lavender, and rose petals. And a little spearmint. It’s got some caffeine, not enough to hurt you, but I can make you some without, if you want."
"Why don’t you forget the drinks and think about getting some sleep," Heather Finch, co-owner of the local bookstore advised. She looked at Scout critically. "Have you been up all night or something? ‘Cause girl, you look like hell."
"Heather, that’s a terrible thing to say." Heather’s partner, Ginny Hartman frowned at her. "But, you do look a little tired, dear. Have you been having trouble sleeping?"
"I’m sleeping just fine, thanks," Scout answered. The stubborn thrust of her chin dared any of them to argue with her.
"Here, have a pastry." Marsha pushed the plate of cinnamon rolls towards Scout. "So, what’s wrong with your car?"
Scout picked up a roll and cautiously took a bite. "What’s wrong with it? Gee, I don’t know. You mean, besides the fact that every time I get in it I can’t help but remember how I nearly died in it last summer?"
"So? We all nearly died last summer," Lucy reminded her, taking another sip. "Don’t dwell on stuff like that, you’ll make yourself sick. Have a latte."
"A latte. Right." Scout sighed, and Siobhan found herself feeling caught between sympathy for Scout and agreement with Lucy. Marsha had come close to being killed, too, after all. And, in a way, it had been at least partly Scout’s fault.
"It hasn’t ever really run right since the accident, and now the roof’s started leaking." Scout looked down at her stomach ruefully, "Plus, it’s not exactly a practical family car, either."
"Get an SUV," Lucy suggested. "Like mine. They’re not as sporty as your Mustang, but they’re plenty practical."
Scout sighed. "Well, I would, except Nick is being a little weird about money right now. He doesn’t seem to want to spend any for some reason."
Lucy’s eyebrows rose in surprise. "So? Why would you be spending his money? You’ve got plenty of your own, don’t you?"
"Yeah." Scout grimaced. "He’s being a little weird about that, too."
"Oh." Lucy nodded understandingly. "Joey, huh?"
"I guess." Scout sighed again, and took another bite of pastry.
"Joey...what?" Heather asked Lucy. "What’d your brother do now, Luce?"
"Oh, nothing, really," Lucy said. "It’s just...well, he did kind of happen to suggest to my father that Nick was maybe marrying Scout for her money. Or that he should have been marrying her for her money, or something. This was a couple of weeks before the wedding. The story got a little confusing in the re-telling."
"They usually do, don’t they?" Ginny observed, her brown eyes twinkling over the rim of her cup as she sipped at her tea. "So, who told who what, exactly?"
"Well, my father told my mother, of course. And then my mother had to go and tell my aunt about it, and my aunt--"
"Went and told Nick," Scout said, taking up the tale. "Who blew up at Joey. Again. I have to say, it was not my idea of a fun Christmas."
"Yeah, and I was so sorry to have missed it." Lucy grinned. She pushed her bowl across the table. "Here. One sip ain’t gonna kill you, Scout. A little coffee, a little warm milk, a little foam--where’s the bad? It’s the answer to all of life’s annoying little problems." She turned to Marsha. "I can’t even remember. What did we used to do, before we had them?"
"Drugs," Marsha replied, smiling at her friend. "Drugs. Cigarettes. Alcohol. Stuff like that."
"Oh, yeah." Lucy smiled reminiscently. "That’s right. Those were the days, huh?"
I'm currently working on a new series featuring vampires. I know--when will I learn to never say anything that starts with the words: "I'll never write a book about...[fill in the blank]".
Vampires. Geez. What next? But, I'm reclaiming my Queen of Angst crown with this one, let me tell you, so it's all good. Comic angst...my new niche.
My vampires are some of the chummiest characters it has ever been my pleasure to write. I'm posting an excerpt below, to show you what I mean. But, first, let me explain about the title of this post. The excerpt is from the first book in the series--did I mention that already? The title of this book is In the Dark, which will be followed by Old Sins, Long Shadows and then by either The Luminosity Factor or Swallowed by the Light, or both...depending on how the story arc works out. As I mentioned: still in the works.
The series is NOT romance. It's more what I like to call Vamp-noir. But will probably be shelved under urban fantasy. But, I can't think of a name for the series. And I'm OCD enough to really, really need one.
So, I'm running a contest. I'm going to give away a copy of any book in my backlist (see my stacks at the Wicked Whispers Library for the full list) to the person who comes up with the series title that makes me want to scream Eureka! 'Cause, right now, I got nuthin' and I'm driving my family nuts by asking them every other day or so what I should call the damn thing.
Basically, the series revolves around a nest of vampires living in San Francisco, headed up by a twelve hundred year old vampire named Conrad. Here's part of the blurb for the first book:
When you live forever, you’re bound to make a few mistakes. Especially when yours is a life led in the dark.
In 1969, a twelve hundred year old vampire named Conrad attempts to 'turn' the free-spirited teenage runaway with whom he’s fallen in love. What happens next is something no one saw coming: newborn vampire twins.
Forty years later, Conrad has gone missing and the twins are called upon to help find him. What happens after that is a tale of blood, betrayal and...vampire family values.
As you can see, not quite 'Three Men and a Baby--with teeth', because the babies in question are all grown up when chapter one opens, but it's got a lot of humor mixed in with all the angst. Besides Conrad and the twins, book one also features two other major vamps (along with a couple of non-related vampires) Damian and Armand--both of whom are Conrad's friends, confidantes, lovers, children. See? This is why people love vampires, I think. You just can't get those kinds of really complex relationships anywhere else. But, enough about that. Here's the excerpt--a fairly self explanatory little scene. Conrad and Armand are, as already explained, vampires. Desert Rose--the hippie chick for whom Conrad is falling--has no idea.
Thursday, November 28th, 1968
Thanksgiving Day
"All I’m saying is that you missed out on a really great party today."
Desert Rose was pouting. Arms crossed, she gazed at him sullenly from one end of his couch. Lying back against the cushions at the other end, Conrad smiled at her indulgently. He hadn’t been expecting to see her here this evening. Even though she’d taken to spending every weekend with him, tonight was Thursday—definitely part of the week, as far as he was concerned. However, the fact that it was Thanksgiving apparently made it the start of the weekend, in her mind.
"I told you about it last weekend. I was hoping you’d show. You’d have liked it."
"Yes, I’m sure I would have," he said as he pulled her towards him, rearranging her limbs until she was reclining against his chest; her head resting on his shoulder; her long hair swept to one side. Unexpected, yes. But definitely not unwelcome, he thought, as he began to lick lazily at her neck. After all, three days was quite long enough to go without. He’d grown quite addicted to the taste of her over the course of the past month. Which would have worried him, if he’d been planning on turning her. He wasn’t. "It sounds like it was a...real happening scene."
On the other side of the room, where he was seated at the secretary desk, writing checks to pay the monthly bills, Armand glanced up at him, his expression pained. "A happening scene? Mon Dieu." Then his eyes focused on the girl who had settled happily into Conrad’s embrace, her eyes closed, her neck exposed. For an instant, Armand’s tongue danced lightly across the points of his teeth. He sighed quietly as he bent his head and went back to work.
"Well, it was," Desert Rose insisted, her voice already taking on the slightly dreamy tone that indicated she was so relaxed she hadn’t even noticed he’d begun to feed. "With music and dancing and...and more food than...well, than you’ve probably ever seen in your life. Corn and beans and squash and cranberry sauce and those little pearl onions. And mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, peas, three kinds of pie, a big chocolate cake. Not to mention homemade bread and biscuits and pumpkin soup. Oh, and there was even an entire turkey made out of tofu."
"It sounds delightful." Conrad raised his head. "Armand?"
"Oui?"
"Qu’est-ce que c’est...toe-foo?"
Armand looked up again, his face perplexed. "Je ne sais pas," he replied with a shrug. Then, his face clearing, he snapped his fingers. " Ah, non, non, non. Il est Chinois. It’s something to do with soybeans. A kind of a paste, I think?"
"Soybeans?" Shaking his head, Conrad went back to his meal. Soybeans. What next? He could eat human food, of course, but it had very little taste and no nutritional value for him, so he rarely bothered anymore. In the past, of course, things had been different. He’d had to eat regularly then, as part of his attempts to fit in, to pass for human. But, he hadn’t felt the need for such subterfuge in many, many years and so, being as he was now a man of some means and could afford not to eat, he didn’t.
"I wish you’d been there," Desert Rose murmured, still pouting. "You could have met some of my friends."
"I’m sure that would have been very charming," Conrad lied and, sensing she was growing restless, quickly licked the wounds shut and released her. "But, you know, mignonne, Armand is Canadian and they don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving up there. It would have been rude to leave him alone."
Sitting up, the girl glanced at them both. "Well, he could have come too, you know. All sorts of people were there."
"Merci, chérie." Armand smiled at her. "And we do celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada. It’s just not all about the food there." Casting a sly glance at Conrad he added, "But Conrad is not an American either, you know."
"You’re not?" She turned back to look at him. "Where are you from?"
Conrad felt himself frowning. "Originally?" He had to think about that for a moment. The part of Europe he hailed from had been called so many different things over the centuries, most of which would mean nothing to her. "Rome," he answered, finally, taking the easy way out.
"So you’re like...Italian?" She eyed him curiously.
"Close enough," he said, ignoring Armand’s muttered, "...but no cigar."
"So, what would you eat on Thanksgiving then? Spaghetti, or pizza, or lasagna or something?"
Conrad grimaced as thoughts of garlic threatened to sour his stomach. "I don’t really care for those either."
Cocking her head to the side, she frowned at him thoughtfully. "You know, now that I think about it, I never see you eat anything. Why is that?"
From across the room, Armand choked back a laugh. "C’est parce que vos yeux sont fermés, chérie," he answered. That’s because your eyes are shut.
"That’s enough from you," Conrad growled, throwing a pillow at his head.
"What did he say?" the girl asked, glancing at both of them again.
So, okay, we're blogging about nerds this week over on the Wicked Whispers Authors' blog, which got me thinking about the subject of Nerds and Geeks...not that I know what the difference is. IS there a difference?
Does anyone know? Does anyone care?
Anyway, since I'm the Whisperette in charge of hotties for the month of March, it's a subject I had to think about. A lot. Because, to tell you the truth, hot nerds is not my usual fare. But they're up there now, so go, check 'em out. Tell me how I did. There's a potential prize in it...
To be honest, when I first thought of hot nerds my mind immediately went to fiction, not photos. So, I'm tossing in a mention of my favorite hot nerd Dexter Travis from Jodi Lynn Copeland's excellent story, Somebody's Hero. Mmm. Hot jungle love.
Since I've sworn off saying 'I'll never write a book about (fill in the blank)', I'm sure that someday I'm going to end up writing a story with a nerd/geek for a hero too.
Maybe.
I'm not usually a fan, however, which probably explains why, out of all my heroes I can't really think of one who qualifies for the title.
Well, okay, possibly Mike from Let Me Count the Ways. He is an accountant, after all, but far less nerdy than Claire, perhaps, suspects. As this excerpt perhaps will show...
In this scene, Mike is attempting to impress Claire (who's just picked him up after a party) by giving her a hot stone massage...
"I believe you said something about a massage?" Claire murmured in teasing tones.
"Hmm?" I wrenched my eyes away with difficulty. My gaze drifted up towards her face, taking the slow, scenic route past all her naked glory. "What?"
Claire arched one eyebrow. "My massage?"
Crap. So much for repairing the damage I’d done with my earlier performance. Here I was, acting like an ass all over again.
"Right." Standing, I gathered up her clothes. "Why don’t you roll over on your stomach and I’ll get started.
Averting my eyes as she repositioned herself on the bed, I dropped Claire’s stockings and garter on top of her shoes. Her panties I let fall in the space between the table and the bed where I hoped they’d go unnoticed.
Inexcusable, I know, but given how badly I was screwing up, I suspected this was likely to be a one time event. That being the case, I knew I’d need something with which to console myself in the years ahead.
I lifted the bottle of massage oil from the pot of water, where I’d put it to warm up, and poured some into my palm. The heady sweet scents of almond, honey amber and musk filled the air as I rubbed my hands together. Using a light effleurage stroke I quickly covered Claire’s back with the oil, and then coated her arms and legs as well. Then I turned away to remove the first rock from the pot.
"Well, that was very nice," Claire said as she started to get up. "Thank you."
I glanced at her over my shoulder and frowned. "No you don’t. Where do you think you’re going? Lie back down. We’re just getting started."
She looked surprised, but she did as I said. I squirted oil over the stone in my hand and then turned back to her.
"That was not the massage," I said as I brushed the hair away from her neck and then began to gently rub the stone in small circles down her neck and across her shoulder. "That was just getting you ready. Are you always this impatient?"
"Yes," she replied, biting the word out sharply, and I couldn’t decide whether her tone was teasing or annoyed. "Actors have very short attention spans. Are you always so bossy?"
I sighed. "Probably. I’ve been running my own company for a long time now. I guess I’ve gotten used to it."
"Hmph," she muttered darkly. "You have an answer for everything, don’t you?" And then we both fell silent. The muscles at the back of her neck were knotted. I rubbed harder. I’d been right about the tension. For an instant, I actually considered telling her that. Luckily, I reconsidered the impulse. Being right was a lot like being boss. Invaluable in business but, more often than not, a complication everywhere else.
"Omigod," Claire murmured a moment later. "What is that? Whatever you’re doing, it feels wonderful."
"Haven’t you ever had a hot stone massage? The heat is supposed to help relax the muscles and the pressure is different from what you can get using just your hands."
"I see. I guess you must do this sort of thing often."
I switched hands and went to work on the other side of her neck. "Well, no, I wouldn’t say often. Occasionally though."
"So... you just happened to have everything you needed on hand? Is that what you’re telling me?"
"It doesn’t take much, you know. Just massage oil. Rocks. A pot to heat them up in. It’s really pretty simple."
"Simple. Right." Claire shook her head. "Amazing. Fashion. Architecture. Decorating. Classic cars. Hot stone massage. Next thing you’ll tell me is that you mix your own massage oil too."
My hand faltered. "Well, yeah, actually, I—I did."
"Unbelievable. Mike, are you sure you’re an accountant?"
I laughed. "I guess you’d better hope I am, huh?"
"I guess so," she muttered. "Jeez. You’re full of surprises tonight."
"Good surprises, I hope?" I quipped lightly.
Claire sighed and it was a moment before she answered. "Very good. Just very... unexpected."
