Beginning January 1, 2013

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Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Author Interview: Anne Kane

Whipped Cream is pleased to have Anne Kane with us this week. Anne lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with, as she says, “a bouncy Jack Russell terrier, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, a geriatric guinea pig and too many fish to count.” I asked her how she personally distinguished between erotica, erotic romance, and pornography.

“I find it quite easy,” she said. “Pornography reminds me of a textbook—the old put Tab A in Slot B, shake it up a bit and add dialogue of short words. Erotica is a bit more descriptive—it involves feelings and reasoning, but not necessarily a plot or romance. The best description of erotic romance I’ve ever read is that if you take the sex out, you still have a wonderful story that people would want to read. I like to think that most of what I write falls under that category.”

Her favorite erotic author is Angela Knight. Anne calls Angela “the goddess of erotic romance.” Anne went on to say, “When I read her book Captive Dreams, I thought WOW! I want to be able to write like that. That was when I started to slant my own writing more towards erotica.”

She also bought Angela’s Passionate Ink: A Guide to Writing Erotic Romance and recommends it for writers just starting out in writing erotica. She also told me she has a couple of dictionaries, two thesauruses, a grammar book, and some foreign dictionaries. Anne has also taken some online courses and joined several Yahoo loops that cater to erotic writing. She would recommend all of this to other new writers.

I asked Anne how she did research for her books. She laughed and said, “I go out and find test subjects at the local church picnic.” Then she added, “I read how-to books, such as the Kama Sutra, or I picture me being there instead of the heroine, and describe what I’m doing and how it feels. That’s my most often used tactic and it seems to work for me. Of course, if I tried all the things in my writing, I’d be a world-class gymnast. But I like to dream!”

Anne told me she’s never known anyone who could tie a cherry stem with their tongue, but if any of our readers do, she would love it if you would send her a video clip. “I find the concept fascinating,” she told me, “and would love to watch them practice.”

We talked about the best food for eating off another person’s tummy or other body part. “Personally, I like whipped cream,” she said, “although I’d never turn down a nice chocolate drizzle. Whipped cream can be used to create very nice, edible clothing that you can parade around in before you snack.”

Anne also told me that her children and co-workers fixate on a particular habit she has—she carries on conversations with her pets. “In my defense,” she told me, “they are loyal, think I’m a goddess, and never give away my secrets. What more could I ask for?”

She’s a busy lady. When she’s not talking to her pets or writing, she told me, “I sing in a choir; I belong to the local kayak club; I do a lot of walking with my dog; I have a vintage motorcycle that I’m either riding or fixign; and I read a lot.” She paused and then said, “Oh, and I do have a day job, so that takes up forty hours a week.”

I asked Anne who should play her if they ever made a movie about her life. “I think it would have to be Julia Roberts,” she said. “I loved her in Pretty Woman. She doesn’t look anything like me, and she sings and dances a whole lot better than I do. We’re both brunettes, so we have enough in common.”

Finally, I asked Anne what is the one piece of advice she would give a new writer. “Believe in yourself and never give up,” she told me. “There’s always someone out there willing to tell you that you’re too old or too dumb or that you just can’t do it. In my case, they were nice; they told me not to be too disappointed if I never got published. I loved it when I was able to say to them, ‘Oh, by the way, that writing contest? I won first prize!’”

You can read more about Anne and her works at her website

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

More by Mysti Holiday

“Bar’s closed,” Penelope called and started clearing glassware, full and empty.

“Aww, Penny,” muttered good old Lance, grabbing for his glass to take one last swig of his beer. “When are you going to give all this up and marry me?”

She laughed and patted the old man on the hand. “This is my dream job, you old scamp, you know that.” She helped him of the bar stool, walked him to the door and into the waiting arms of a cabbie, just like she had every night that week. Same old, same old. Penny liked routine.

She closed the door and locked it, leaning against it with a sigh. Her dogs were barking and she’d give her left elbow for a massage about now. “As if that’s going to happen,” she murmured. All she had to look forward to was a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, an old movie and some sex with her battery-operated boyfriend.

If she wasn’t so worried about mixing business with pleasure, she’d hit on her boss. Damn, he was hot. And smart. And funny.

And her boss, she reminded herself again. She limped back to the bar and filled the dishwasher with glassware. Once that was running she covered the garnish tray and walked back to the fridge to put it away. A glance over one shoulder at the line of light under the office door told her Shane was still working, tallying up the cash, getting tomorrow’s order ready, using that amazing brain of his. There wasn’t one thing about him that didn’t turn her on. Except his job title.

She hurried back to the bar and leaned against the vibrating dishwasher, wiping her suddenly sweaty hands down her blouse, letting her palms linger over her instantly hard nipples. What would it feel like if it were he touching her there? Would he be gentle? She caressed her tits with slow, circling movements. Or just a little rough? She pinched them both lightly, giving a little gasp at the sensation that shot through her.

Yeah, naughty and a little intense. That would be Shane’s M.O. She ran one hand down her groin, rubbing herself through her skirt, letting the friction of the damp satin against her clit send shivers down her spine. She turned to face the bar and pressed herself against the washer, the soft vibration making her tremble. She unbuttoned her blouse, just enough so she could slip a wet fingertip inside and circle first one nipple then the other, still picturing Shane’s hands, Shane’s body against her. She couldn’t keep the soft moan from slipping out of her throat.

She started to work herself through the cotton fabric when a calloused hand covered hers, stopping all movement. She froze, horrified at being caught in her fantasy.

A puff of breath caressed the nape of her neck and firm lips moved against her ear. “Don’t stop on my account.”


“I—” Penny’s words were cut off when his teeth scraped against the skin of her neck and his other hand circled her waist, tugging her shirt from the waistband.

The reality of Shane’s touch was better than any fantasy, and her resolve to maintain the employee/employer barrier was tossed away. He swung her around to the back bar rail and yanked her shirt off her body.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his breath in her ear making her cunt ooze with cream. “Just look.” He pulled her hair, lifting her head up.

When she opened her eyes, she saw her reflection in the bar mirror—flushed, aroused, lips parted, panting with passion. And then she saw him, and his already brown eyes were dark with emotion. “More...” she managed and he took her at her word, suddenly desperate.

His hands were everywhere, brushing, squeezing, flicking and then they grabbed the hem of her skirt and yanked it to her waist. With one sharp tug, he tore her satin thong off and plunged two fingers inside. She came in one sharp cry, rocking her hips against his hand.

“More!” she screamed and turned to face him, unzipping his pants to release his rock-hard dick. He reached into a side drawer and grabbed a handful of the condoms she kept there for customers. She took one from him and rolled it on, enjoying the low moan he gave as she encircled him and gave a couple thrusts with her hand.

“More,” he said, a small smile on his face, and he lifted her onto the counter. With one quick move, he plunged into her. Bottles fell from the shelves to bounce on the rubber floor, but nothing but Shane held her attention. He slammed into her over and over and kissed her just as hard, his tongue mimicking the movements of his cock, in and out, until she thought she’d die from all the sensations ripping through her.

He put his hand between them and pressed her clit, vibrating it in little circles until she cried out in release. Only then did he speed up his movements, one, two, three times more until a moan and a shudder announced his completion.

He hugged her tightly, laying his face on her bare chest. “Am I dead?”

She laughed, low in her throat. “Could be, because I sure think I’m in heaven.”

He tipped his face back and looked her right square in the eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day I hired you nineteen months and eleven days ago.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You did? What stopped you?”

“You did. You made it clear in the interview that you did not fraternize. I like you, Penny. You’re hot, but you’re smart and you have a wicked sense of humor. I respected what you asked.”

“Until tonight. Thank God.” She rubbed his back, not wanting him to move away.

“Until tonight.” He pulled her hands away from his shoulders and held them in his. “Come home with me.”


He shook his head. “Every night. I want more.”

She grinned. “More is good.” She leaned in and grabbed his lower lip in her teeth giving it a nip before sucking it into her mouth and watching his eyes darken again. She released his mouth long enough to murmur, “I like more.”

About the Author: Mysti Holiday is the pseudonym of a SAHM who dreams of warm climes and hot bodies. She's married to a wonderful man who happily offers himself for research, and she spends most of her days dreaming of uncomfortable situations in which to place her characters. Visit her website at

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Author Interview: Cat Grant

Whipped Cream is pleased to welcome Cat Grant. Cat’s second book, Strictly Business, has recently been released from Lyrical Press. It’s a prequel to the best-selling The Arrangement. Cat told me that she’s written off and on her entire life. “I’m forty-eight years old,” she said, “and I’ve just had my second book published this year. Suffice it to say, it’s been a long journey!”

Cat wrote fan fiction for the better part of fifteen years, but didn’t consider trying to write for professional publication until she became disabled in 2004. “It was a depressing time for me,” she told me, “so my husband encouraged me to start writing again. At first I tried to crack the sci-fi/fantasy/horror short story markets. In three years, I sold a grand total of one story-- mostly because I think my heart wasn't really in it. So I went back and took a look at some of my older work, the stuff I truly enjoyed writing, and practically every single story revolved around the relationships between the characters - and a lot of hot sex too. Making the jump to writing erotic romance seemed a no-brainer.” She told me, though, that one of the biggest misconceptions she sees the public having about erotic romance is “that every work of erotic fiction out there is nothing but wall-to-wall sex, with no other ‘redeeming social value.’”

It took Cat two years to write (and rewrite and rewrite again)The Arrangement and four months to sell it. The reason she took so long can be summed up in her advice for new writers. “Work hard on your craft, and make your first book the absolute best it can be before you start sending it out. First-time authors are so hungry to get published (I know I was!) that sometimes they overlook the basics. I've seen published books out there with sloppy mechanics, inconsistent characterization and WTF? plot logic. Ask yourself this: ten years from now, do you want to look back and cringe? I know I sure don't!”

Cat’s not a big fan of sex for sex’s sake in fiction, which she admits “probably sounds strange from someone whose work is labeled ‘erotic romance.’” She believes, however, that “sex scenes should serve the same purpose as any other kind of scene—if it doesn’t move the story along or reveal something new about the characters and their relationship—it shouldn’t be there.” She added, “That said, if you’re going to write an erotic scene, it should be a genuine turn-on. I’m constantly kicking myself trying to maintain that balance.”

She gave us some recommendations for research books, so if you are interested in writing erotic romance you might want to check these out. “A book that was a huge help to me in writing my m/m/f ménage a trois novel was The Ethical Slut by Dossie Easton and Catherine A. Liszt. Tristan Taormino’s written one on the same subject called Opening Up. If you want to write about polyamory, they’re the experts.”

For books on craft, recommended are the following: Susie Bright - How to Write a Dirty Story Chris Vogler - The Writer’s Journey Joseph Campbell - The Hero with a Thousand Faces Debra Dixon - Goal, Motivation, and Conflict

“In fact,” she told me, “I think Susie Bright’s Best American Erotica series is a must-read too, especially for writers who want to specialize in writing about alternative lifestyles.”

On a personal note, Cat cannot stand to eat calamari. “My dad loved it,” she said, “but to me it looks like a plateful of fried rubber bands.”

Conversely, though, she told me, “There’s a tiny little place not far from where I live that makes the best hamburgers I’ve ever had in a restaurant. My fave is their blue cheese burger. I also have a weakness for hot fudge sundaes and key lime pie.”

Cat doesn’t drink soda pop any longer, she told me, but she said she used to be able to tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi, however she’s not sure if she could tell the difference now.

And, she’s a woman after my own heart. If she’s not writing, she can usually be found sitting on the couch reading. She confessed, “My TBR stack has morphed into an entire shelf!”

You can read more about Cat and her works at her website

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Turnabout's Fair Play by Kealie Shay

Malcolm forced heavy eyelids open and rolled his stiff shoulders. At least, he tried to roll his stiff shoulders. “What the hell?” he muttered when he couldn’t, tugging futilely at the bonds restraining him. “She didn’t!” It looked like he’d been bound with his own restraints.

“Oh, she did…” Keeara’s soft voice drew his attention to the doorway of the bedroom.

“Kee, untie me… NOW!” Malcolm demanded. He wanted out of these restraints. He didn’t miss the shiver that ran down his woman’s body. She stood in the doorway watching him, not moving an inch.

“Uh-uh,” Kee murmured. Malcolm was stunned and blinked in surprise that his sweet little submissive had actually told him no. Her eyes were downcast but he read defiance in every line of her body.

“What the hell is going on, Kee?” He tried to soften his voice, put her at ease, but she still wouldn’t meet his eyes. He tried again. “Why did you do this?” There, that had sounded less hostile.

“I need something from you, Mal,” she whispered.

Every muscle in his body tensed. What was going on? She knew he would give her anything… anything, but permission to walk away from him. That he would never give her willingly. It was too late for that. He searched her face; he wouldn’t survive losing her. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, prepared to tear the bed apart to get free. Her whimper made him focus on her, instead of his roiling thoughts. He looked into her face and saw pleading even desperation. Mal swallowed and steeled himself to let her go.

“What do you need from me, baby?” He was surprised at the gentleness in his voice, but it emboldened her.

“I need…” her eyes met his for one brief moment, then skittered away to glance around the room. She cleared her throat. “I need to be in control… just this once I need to have some of the control.”

Mal blinked, stunned. That was it? She needed to have some control over their play? Didn’t she realize that she always had control? He may be her Master, but she had all the power. He heaved a sigh of relief. He could give her this.

“Kee, baby, you can have whatever you want.”

“Really?” Her eyes flew to his face. What she saw there must have reassured her. She sighed and took a hesitant step into their bedroom. She was clutching her hands tightly to her stomach, but at least she was moving into further into the room. She took another hesitant step toward the bed.

“I don’t want you on the bed,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Mal asked, insolence in his voice. If she wanted control she needed to take it. He bit back a smile when her spine straightened and she slowly met his gaze.

“I don’t want you on the bed,” she said with more force behind her words.

“Mmm…” he hummed. “Okay. Where DO you want me, baby?” He stretched, rubbing sensitive limbs against the soft, warm sheets as he wrapped the rope above his head in his fists. He considered the gentle sway of her hips as she glided across the room. Good Lord, the woman was graceful.

She gripped the velvet rope where it was joined to the headboard when she reached his side.
“I want you there,” she indicated the hook in the ceiling with a nod of her head.

Heat pooled in Malcolm’s groin at the thought. He’d used the hook more than once to restrain her in the middle of the room. The memory had lust roiling in his gut. At his short nod of agreement she unhooked the rope from the headboard. Within a matter of moments he was standing naked in the center of the room with his arms pulled above his head… at her mercy.

The heat of her naked body preceded the silken glide of her skin against his bare back. The cool touch of her hand started in between his shoulder-blades and wandered with seemingly no destination up to his shoulder then down to the dip of his lower back. Just when he thought he knew where her hand was heading she changed direction and surprised him.

Her other hand came into play on his left forearm, which was as far up as she could reach… he’d had to secure himself to the hook above his head. The nails of her slender fingers scraping up his back and down his arm simultaneously scrambled his thoughts. His cock twitched, kissing his belly with moisture. He wasn’t positive but he thought he felt her lips ghost over his ribs as she moved to stand before him.

The muscles in his stomach jumped as she scraped her nails over his hips and across his belly then up his chest to flick languidly over his nipples. His attention was captured by the fierce concentration on her face. “Fuck, you’re beautiful!” he exclaimed.

“Funny,” she murmured. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Mal held himself still as her head descended and her lips closed over his nipple. A groan rumbled up from his chest while a shudder worked through his body at the contact. When she made to go to her knees before him, Mal’s control snapped. In one swift motion he unhooked the rope from the hook and swooped down to scoop Kee into his arms. His wrists were still bound by the velvet rope, but it didn’t impede his grip and he spread her thighs and lifted her onto his straining cock.

“God, baby, I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait any longer,” he said against her lips.

“That’s all right.” She laughed and gripped his shoulders as he strode for the bed with her body still impaled on his. “You lasted longer than I thought you would.”

He grumbled half-heartedly at her as he tumbled them down to their bed. He didn’t miss the flare of heat in her eyes when he tunneled his fingers into her hair and tugged. Her pussy clenched around him, the delicate walls fluttering against his cock at the bite of sensual pain he knew she loved. Pounding his body in and out of her wet heat, Mal gloried in her cries as he drove them both over the edge with a hard, almost punishing pace. His head snapped back and he grunted when his climax hit, Kee’s body tightened and rippled around him pulling every last drop from him, leaving him utterly drained and limp atop her.

“Good God, woman, I can’t possibly live without you,” he muttered into her hair. Too depleted to lift his head from the curve of her neck.

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I married you, isn’t it?” Her laughter warmed his heart as he rolled to his side, tucking her into the curve of his body.

“Yes, it’s a very good thing,” he said as he fell asleep with his arms wrapped securely around his wife.

About the Author: Kealie Shay is the alter-ego of a shy, quiet stay-at-home-mom by day. By night she transforms into a wild woman writing of wicked men and women. She is a sex-crazed nympho who routinely holds bondage parties in her garage, owns a Great Dane named Brock, and plays regularly with Juan, her Cabana Boy. She does all this while wearing a pair of red, thigh-high, stiletto boots. Who cares if it's all in her imagination! Visit Kealie at her website and blog.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Author Interview: Kelly Jamieson

Whipped Cream is pleased to welcome Kelly Jamieson, author of Love Me which is releasing this week from Samhain Publishing.

I asked Kelly how she personally distinguished between erotica, erotic romance, and pornography. “To me,” she said, “pornography is intended solely to arouse, or to stimulate erotic feelings rather than other emotions, or feelings of aesthetic pleasure. In erotica, perhaps more feelings of sexual love are involved. In erotic romance, the key is the ‘romance.’ For me, it’s all about the romance. Even my most erotic stories are about two people falling in love. I like to read and write stories that stimulate a range of emotions—sadness, joy, despair, hope, amusement, and most importantly, love—and yes, erotic, sexual feelings are a big part of love.”

We talked a bit about what other authors write excellent erotic fiction. Some of Kelly’s favorites include Emma Holly, Megan Hart, Lora Leigh, and Lacey Alexander. She told me, “What I like about their writing is the depth of emotion and feeling they portray—not just physical descriptions of sex. I also like how they can make something kinky into something believable and acceptable.” She gave, as an example, the fact that many of Lacey Alexander’s stories feature a “good girl” and her inner conflict when she gets into a situation involving voyeurism, threesomes, etc. “That was my hope for my erotic novel Love Me,” she added. “To make the story of an ‘ordinary’ couple who end up in a sexy threesome believable, something readers can relate to.”

She also said that she thinks everyone wonders about the sex lives of erotic writers—at least she does. She told me she wasn’t going to talk about her sex life, but she let me know, though that in lieu of research for Love Me she mostly used her imagination. She did do a lot of research on the internet for Dream Girl, which is coming out this fall from The Wild Rose Press. “I even went on a virtual tour of a brewery online,” she said, because making beer is an important part of the story line. “I also confess to using a ‘porn for woman’ site to research positions and to describe things I haven’t...uh...seen up close.”

Her upcoming book, Dream Girl, isn’t classified as erotic romance, but she does say it’s very spicy. “No threesomes,” she said, “but very hot sex. I find it a challenge to write the really erotic stuff because (and I said I wouldn’t talk about my sex life!) I’ve never had a threesome, either two men or two women, so it was challenging (okay, and fun) to imagine all the possibilities.”

Her most embarrassing sex scene she’s written to date is the female/female sex scene in Love Me. “It wasn’t embarrassing necessarily to write it – but I kept thinking about what people would think of me when reading it,” she told me.

We talked about piercings and why it’s sexy. Kelly told me she has her belly button pierced. “I’m not fond of many body piercings but one day I was at the beach and all the girls had pretty, sparkly jewellery in their navels and I wanted that too! My teenage daughter had gotten it done, so I knew what was involved. I think some tasteful sparkly jewellery on a nice tummy is very pretty and sexy. (The two women in Love Me compare their piercings...!)” She added, “Huge stretched earlobes are not sexy. Lip piercings just look painful to me – how do you kiss? I’ve heard things about tongue piercings that are interesting - but I’d never do it!”

I asked Kelly about her most embarrassing moment. “I do so many embarrassing things. Recently, my daughter had my car and came to pick me up. I saw the car in the parking lot and started walking toward it. I had my gym bag with me, so I opened the back door and threw the bag in. Then I noticed the car was empty. Where was she? Why did she park the car and leave it unlocked? Then I realized I had the wrong car!!! It was the same make and model and color as mine, but not mine. I opened the door and grabbed my bag, praying the real owner wasn’t watching me apparently steal something out of his car, and turned around. There was my daughter, running toward me saying, ‘What are you doing!!!??’ in a tone that clearly said ‘Mom, you are so embarrassing!’ I was mortified. I guess it would have been worse if the owner of the car had been sitting there. I could have jumped into the passenger seat with him!”

Kelly is a woman after my own heart. She loves food. “My favorite would be popcorn—salty, crunchy, and you can pop up a huge bowl and sit there and eat and eat and eat because it’s mostly air—which makes it a very good comfort food.” Then she added, “God, that makes me sound like a pig.” However, even as much as she likes food, she cannot bring herself to eat liver. “Well, any organ meat actually,” she said, “but I’ve tried liver and the taste is make-me-gag disgusting.”

And, finally, painted toenails for Kelly gain a definite yes. “My favorite toe polish is Tequila Sunrise from Rimmel,” she told me. “It’s a bright orange. I never wear colored polish on my fingernails, but always on my toes.”

You can read more about Kelly and her works at her website.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Author Interview: Devon Gray

Whipped Cream is very pleased to welcome Devon Gray. Devon doesn’t have a long history of reading erotica, or writing it for that matter. In fact, Devon wore several hats before finding that the one of writer was a perfect fit. She told me she had several unfortunate jobs because she ignored the creative chatter in her head (including one as a birth control educator for college freshman...she refused to tell me any more than that...maybe she’ll tell you in tomorrow’s chat).

Devon picked up her first erotic romance less than two years ago--Dirty by Megan Hart. “What drew me into her writing was the intensity of the story,” Devon told me. “The heroine suffered from deep, scarring issues which unfolded as the pages turned. I will always remember this book.”

Devon only ventured into the world of writing two years ago and, until that time, had always primarily read straight contemporary or historical romance. “I am a complete pantser,” Devon said, “so at the onset of ‘Addicted’ I had no idea what my characters had in store for me. The story focuses on their sexual journey, and with a happily-ever-after it fit nicely into the erotic romance genre.”

Devon’s erotic romance is considered mild by her publisher, who gives it a single rose rating. Devon told me, “It’s just slightly racier than what I had been exposed to in the titles I chose to read.” She also has another Scarlet under contract with The Wild Rose Press-The Wilder Roses titled “Playing for Keeps.”

Devon has another manuscript, “The Divorcee Whisperer,” which she intended to be another erotic romance. “The characters had another story in mind,” she said. “I can only do what the voices in my head tell me!”

I asked Devon which she found more challenging to write—erotic romance or straight romance. They each have their challenges, she shared with me. “In a straight romance it is necessary to build up a lot more sexual tension prior to the first sex scene. You want the reader to become invested in the characters and the story, but you don’t want to risk losing their attention. With an erotic story, the sex comes in much sooner. That can be an issue in and of itself, because I have found it difficult to write a longer word count with the sexual relationship beginning so early in the story.”

Devon told me she started out as a teenager writing rather dark poetry. She also admitted she sometimes will still pen a poem if the mood strikes. She had tried to write a book several times, but not being able to plot the storyline frustrated her. Two years ago, however, she had an epiphany. “I discovered it was possible to complete a manuscript without plotting it beforehand,” she said. “I also discovered that being a pantser can be dicey at times, but I’ve had to embrace the fact it is my natural style of writing.”

Devon’s husband is a wonderful cook and makes her very favorite food. It’s a baked brie that Devon says he “stuffs with deliciously sinful ingredients, wraps it in pastry dough and then bakes it. There’s something sexy about a man in the kitchen who knows what he’s doing!”

Not only can her husband make a mean baked brie, he can also tie a cherry stem with his tongue. Devon told me, “He has an annoying habit of being able to accomplish just about any task he tries. The one thing he says he could never do? Be a writer. Dealing with a constant string of constructive criticism and rejection isn’t appealing.” She also said that she can’t say that she blames him for that!

When Devon isn’t writing, she’s thinking about writing. “It’s always on my mind,” she confessed, “but when I’m not at the keyboard I am doing all the things mothers with young children do—driving all over the planet, cleaning up messes that seem to regenerate of their own volition and trying to enjoy the journey of it all.” Devon also loves to read and take long walks. “My characters often speak to me while I’m on these hikes, so it’s a very productive time.”

I asked Devon, “Painted toenails...yes or no?”

“Painted, definitely.” She slid her feet beneath her chair. “Although mine aren’t right now. And the brighter, the better. The best is a fresh pedicure set off against white sand at the beach. Just the thought makes me happy.”

And, Devon is a good ol’ southern gal...born and raised in Atlanta, y’all. Asking her if she can tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi is nearly blasphemous. She’ll tell you so in a heartbeat.

Finally, I wanted to know if Devon could give a new writer just one piece of advice...what would it be?

“My best piece of advice for a new writer,” she told me, “is to persevere. This is a tough business, and every writer has a different timeline. Never stop trying, and while you’re waiting for your time to come, immerse yourself in all things writing—take courses, get involved with a critique partner or group, join the RWA and local chapter, if possible. And read. Read as much as you can.”

You can read more about Devon and her works at her website.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Caught Under the October Moon by Kiki Howell

The meshing colors of the fallen autumn leaves crackled under the weight of her bare feet similar in sound to the fire that burgeoned around the stack of dry logs before her. Once she felt the heat infiltrate her body, she shed her deep burgundy, velvet cloak and watched as it fell to the ground like pouring wine. Turning, she lit the red candles and spicy incenses of cinnamon and ginger on her makeshift altar. The small flames threw flickers of light that danced upon the various fruits and vegetables that decorated the tree stump. Lost in her rituals under the light of the October Blood Moon coming through the thinning canopies of the treetops, she neglected to hear the approaching footsteps.

The final shift of the brush as a man came into the clearing startled her. She turned and faced her visitor. Forgetting that she was standing there fully exposed, she stared into the eyes of Mitch, a friend from her apartment building two floors up and one door over. Despite the fact that she had developed many friendships, no one there knew that she was a witch.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, as she followed his eyes down over the erect nipples of her breasts to the small patch of hair between her thighs. Unable to avoid turning to get her robe, she was forced to display her backside to him also.

"I saw a cloaked figure enter the woods and debated about checking it out until I saw the flickers of light through the trees." He blushed as he stumbled over the words. "I couldn't sleep. What are you doing here at three o'clock in the morning?"

Thoughts rushed through her mind. Would he approve or disapprove of her Wiccan ways? She momentarily felt like a trapped animal as he took a few steps towards her to get closer to the fire. His baggy, wrinkled sweatshirt didn't prevent her from being distracted by the memories of him shirtless this summer.

"Listen, Brianna, you don't have to be afraid to tell me. I won't judge you. You know I'm not like that." He turned to face her then took hold of the front of her robe and fondled the crushed velvet between his fingers. "Will you feel better if I confess something first?"

"I don't know." Her voice sounded strange even to her as apprehension and excitement mingled making her insides tremble. The smell of him drifted over the short distance between them, and she closed her eyes as she took it in. She could never deny to herself the attraction she had to him, but he had never made any advances before to show her he felt the same.

"Then here goes." He stepped in making his hands, still holding her robe, press up against her abs; and her hands, still holding her robe protectively closed, touch his hard chest. "I have wanted to be alone with you, since the first time I met you, so that I could see how you would react if I did this…"

The warmth of his breath brushed over her face before the fullness of his lips surrounded hers. He brought his hands up into her hair, and the chill of his fingertips felt like pure magical energy.

Mitch kissed her cheek, and whispered in her ear, "Relax, Brianna. I won't do anything you don't want me to."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel better." She became acutely aware again of her nakedness under her robe as heat pulsed through her core moistening her with desire.

"Now why are you out in the woods in the middle of the night buck naked? I can't get that image of you out of my mind." He pulled her against him tighter, and she let her pinned arms move to her sides allowing his jean-covered hardness to touch the skin of her stomach where her robe had opened slightly.

"I am Wiccan, and I was celebrating the Esbat of the October full moon." She dared to let her hands move onto his hips as she spoke liking the way they felt against one another.

"I like holding you, and I am thrilled that you are not pulling away."

"Then it doesn't matter to you that…" A kiss interrupted her question. He penetrated her lips with his tongue and swept it over hers.

"That you are a witch? No, you can explain more about that later. All I can think about now is getting my hands under your robe."

She felt her smile all through her body. "Then touch me," she said as she withdrew from his embrace and let her robe cascade to the ground again.

He didn't immediately come to her. First, he slowly unclothed himself barely taking his eyes from her body. She liked the way it felt, to be exposed to him. The thoughts she'd secretly had of them together over these past months welled up within her as his palms cupped over her breasts. He kissed her briefly again before cradling her body to his and guiding her down to the ground to lie upon their discarded clothing. Leaves crunched and slim branches cracked as he spread apart her thighs and tasted her. The feeling of his tongue separating her nether lips made her give thanks again to that moon above her for the bounty she had been given. She reached out to finally touch his hardness as he kissed up her body and over her nipples.

Just before the thickness of his member entered her wetness, he said, "I feared this moment would never happen."

"Anything can happen under the full moon."

About the Author: Kiki Howell is an author of magical erotic romances, with her first two published stories releasing in Celtic Love Knots, Volume 10 September 2008 from Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. She is also looking forward to the releases of "Mystic Stones" and "The Witch's Beast" next year with WCPT. You can visit Kiki at her website or

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Author Interview: Amber Scott

Whipped Cream is happy to have Amber Scott with us. Amber admits to having a duel personality, but hopes to one day integrate them. She writes historicals and paranormals as Amber Dayne, but contemporaries and erotic romance as Amber Scott. She said, “I’ve found my historicals grow spicier and my contemporaries more magical.”

She started out writing different genres, mostly to find out where her voice could blossom. “In between two full-length manuscripts,” she said, “I tried an erotica novella. I loved it. When I wrote my first erotica, The Best Revenge, I’d already finished a young adult, a paranormal, and a contemporary romance. The Best Revenge turned out to be my debut and first sale. I loved writing it so much that I now I alternate between mainstream and eroticas. I feel like it keeps me fresh.”

Amber told me that she finds writing erotica to be much more challenging. “You have to be original, sensual, and still have deeply developed plot and characters. I think some make the mistake of focusing on ways to get the characters naked rather than the reverse.”

The series Amber is working on right now is “sort of Hitch meets Quantum Leap contemporary romance,” she said. “My anti-heroine, Millie Match, is really a fun character.”

I asked Amber what her family thought of her writing. “I don’t think any of my family has read any of my books,” she told me. “You start out thinking they’ll all rush to buy them. They didn’t. But, that’s okay. Not many of them are readers. Those who know my genres support it. Those who don’t, don’t really ask anyhow. The only person I would just about die of embarrassment over finding out is my 84-year-old uncle. But then, he told my maid of honor a dirty joke at my wedding, so you never know.”

If Amber could entertain a character from a book, she told me it would be Michael from Julia Quinn’s When He Was Wicked. “I’m totally in love with him,” she told me. “I'm a sucker for unrequited love. I picture him, me, a fireplace, fur rug, no clothes and lots of imagination. Oh and don't forget the champagne and strawberries.”

Perhaps it’s needless to say, but her favorite letter is “X”, as in “X-rated. As in excuse me. Exotic. Extreme. Exactly.”

Some little known facts about Amber:

Her favorite food is chocolate- “Mmmmmm. Can’t live without it. Milk chocolate especially, but any form will do. Cakes, cookies, donuts, bars, sauce.”

Speaking of sauce, chocolate sauce is also her favorite food to eat off someone-“One, it’s my flavor of choice. Two, it’s pretty easy to lick up without a sticky leftover.”

Painted toenails make her feel sexy- “The right color red is like toe lingerie. I can feel sexy in sweats if I have cherry red toenails.”

And, she’s a champion at tying cherry stems with her tongue- “My two bestest friends and I used to have cherry tie offs. I won. Every time.”

Finally, I asked Amber what advice she would give to a new author. “I’d say- write for yourself. You are your audience, not the imaginary woman in the store pursing her lips over the little idea niggling in your brain. If you write with you in mind, make yourself laugh or cry, then you will find your voice and voice is the most sought after quality in this industry. Never give up.”

You can read more about Amber and her works at her website