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Saturday, February 28, 2009

Desert Heat By R. W. Shannon

When I woke up this morning, it was just an ordinary, hot Saturday in Arizona. The newscaster said it was 110 degrees. It was a little past four and I was in the middle of trying to decided between chicken and fish for dinner when my husband Xavier showed up in the doorway of the kitchen. Naked.

I froze, holding the cellophane wrapped meats in my hands, almost dropping them as my eyes wandered over his broad chest. His dark ebony skin glistened with sweat and steam from the shower. My eyes wandered lower, traveled over his tight abs and, lower still, settling between his muscular thighs.

Without a word, he stripped me in the kitchen, carried me upstairs, and tied me to the bedposts.. As he takes my earlobe between his lips, I shiver in the air conditioned room. I can hear him move around the bed. The sound of his bare soles brush against the tops of the carpet and blends in with the rhythm of my heart beat.

The mattress shifts under his weight as he crawls up my body to kiss me on my lips. I inhale his scent. My husband smells like a honey dipped star. I inhale deeply as he kisses me. His tongue expertly parts my full lips and entwines with mine. My lips miss his when he pulls away to rain kisses on my neck and shoulders. I sigh. After fifteen years, this man still knows what buttons to push.

Yet, my mind travels to our daughter who is out at the mall with her friends. Our son who is sleeping over at his friends tonight. Our newest son who is sleeping in the crib at my mother’s house a few blocks away. There was a pile of papers on my desk from my criminal law students that needed to be graded. The garbage disposal was broken, again. My husband will be in Japan all next week on business. And I’m sure our dog Lexi is standing by his food dish wondering where dinner is.

A rough flick of his tongue brings me back to reality. I open my eyes. The blindfold tickles my eyelashes. Soft golden sun light lines the edges of the dark mask. He grazes my nipple with his teeth. My breath hitches. I want to run my hands over his bald head but my wrists are tied with red silk scarves. My fingertips ache. I need to touch him. I need to run my hands over his hard muscular shoulders and back.

Another shiver flows down my spine and settles in between my legs. What is this man doing to me? The same thing he always does, blow my mind.

He kisses the sensitive skin between my breasts, then kisses a slow, wet path down my torso to the area between my thighs. I sigh. Until this moment, I never saw the merit of a Luther Vandross song. One is playing now. And for the rest of my days, I will worship this song like a hymn. Vow to always stop and daydream whenever it flows through my speakers. When Luther sings, “I’d follow you to the moon and the stars above,” I sigh. That is how much I love my husband.

Maybe I don’t tell him enough. Maybe I do take him for granted sometimes. Maybe I have gotten used to the “midnight quickie” when the kids and dog are finally asleep and it is the only time we have together before one of us passes out from exhaustion. Maybe I need to tell him I love him more often. Tell him that he still means more to me than a paycheck, a warm body at night. He is an amazing father. An amazing husband. I realize. His tongue dives deep inside my core, coaxing another orgasm to the surface.

I love you tumbles out of my mouth as a whisper. Three simple words that have so much meaning behind them. I repeat them. I want him to hear them, to feel them inside of him as I need him inside of me right now. Suddenly, he stops and climbs up my body. He thrust his tongue in my mouth as he thrusts his member deep inside my valley. I gasp as he thrusts deep and hard against my opening.

Our sweet aroma fills the room. My eyes roll back in my head. I am his bitch now and he knows it. That is why he takes his time. Tracing the letters of my name against my slick walls. My toes curl by the time he gets to the “l” in Melinda. When he gets to the “n”, I have already signed my soul over to him. Whatever he wants from now on, he gets. No questions asked. Steak for dinner? Done. That new Dodge Charger? What color, honey?

His voice is harsh and soft against the side of my neck. He thrusts faster, deeper still. The headboard slams against the wall. I am so wet that he slips out. He pauses to slide back into place. Xavier’s thrusts become more erratic. I hear him moan. Hear him mumble my name. Talk some smack about how good my pussy feels. I didn’t think it was possible, but I cum again. His voice echoes in chorus with mine.

Spent, he rolls onto his side. Then, he unties my hands and pulls me to his chest. I snuggle against him, still wearing the blindfold.

The song switches to Patti Labelle. The one we danced to at our wedding. I smile. My hand flows down his sweat soaked chest and grasps his still hard member. Cum leaks over my hand. I take off the blindfold and tie it around his eyes.

My turn.

About the author: R.W. Shannon currently lives in the desert of Arizona and has survived five years of 100+ degree summer days. She is hard at work on several projects.

Author Interview: Tory Richards

Whipped Cream is pleased to welcome Tory Richards, who has two erotic romances out with Whiskey Creek Press and a third, The Cowboy Way being released in April.

Tory started our writing sweet romance, then graduated to steamy and finally erotic romance. "Let's face it," she said. "Sex sells. It was a big step for me. I can't tell you how many times I typed the male C word only to go back later and delete it, then go back to add it again. I'd always considered that a bedroom word."

I asked her what her family thought of her writing. She told me that her parents didn't understand how serious she was about writing, laughing ti off when she would mention it. However, her daughter and niece encouraged her to pursue a writing career and to submit to a publisher. They are the only two family members who read all of Tory's books. Other family members read only the work published under Tory's real name. "Erotic romance is too explicit for them," she explained.

The erotic stories have to have a good, strong plot for Tory to consider them a success. "Nothing but sex for the sake of sex is porn to me," she told me.

Most of her research comes from her own life experiences. "I write about places I've been and weave snippets of things that have occurred in my life into my stories." She smiled. "Of course, the names have been changed to protect the guilty."

She does, however, have one resource book that is dog eared and about ready for the trash can—a romance phrase book.

There are several boundaries she refuses to cross in her writing, but two of them she feels strongly about: incest and anything to do with animals. Those elements will not be found in Tory's works.

On a personal note, I asked Tory what body part she would pierce if she had to pierce one. "The belly button," she said. "That's the only place I think piercing is sexy. And, of course, the ears, but I don't think that counts. Piercings in eyebrows, tongues, nose, or anywhere else is a turn off to me."

The questions turned to food and Tory told me that sandwiches—any kind—is her favorite food. She loves them. And, while she doesn't drink soda any more, when she did she preferred Pepsi over Coke, because it was sweeter.

When she's not writing, she can usually be found hanging out with her daughter and granddaughter, meeting friends for dinner, traveling, or catching up on emails to old friends. Or any number of other things.

In April, she's planning on attending the Romantic Times Convention in Orlando, Florida; and, because she thinks painted toenails are sexy, she will be there with them and with her toe ring. You can keep up with Tory on her website,

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Five Cocktails and a Blow Job

By Eve Summers

“I would love to give you a blow job.”
It’s the cocktail speaking, the fifth cocktail of the afternoon. I never would have mustered the courage otherwise, even though Andy’s open shirt reveals every mouth-watering muscle on his abdomen.

Andy lowers his own glass. He shifts in his seat and crosses his legs, ankle on knee.

“You don’t mean the cocktail?”

I keep his gaze. “I don’t mean the cocktail.”

“It’s a bad idea on so many levels.” It comes out croaky and he clears his throat.

I’m hoping it’s not just the whisky that’s making his voice hoarse.

“You’re a fine woman and I don’t want to risk our friendship. Fuck, I don’t want to risk the championships, either.”

His pants are baggy (not the usual spray-on black jeans that make my hormones sigh) and his thigh is obscuring my view, but I know he’s growing a huge hard-on while fighting the image of my mouth on him.

I smile to myself. Where were we? Oh, yes.

“I agree about the championships. “ And I do... to some extent.

He says nothing.

“Believe me, it’s easier to find a good cock than a good bridge partner.” It is: most men would happily sell their souls for a chance to get head, but I’ve never met a guy who’s as refined a bridge player as Andy.

Still nothing.

“I don’t want to risk the bridge, either.” Ok, that last one’s a fib.

I can’t read his face, but when I fold my arms behind my head and my boobs thrust forward, Andy swallows hard.

Keep going, girl.

“Which is exactly why I’m here. You’re one hell of a sexy bloke, Andy, and I can’t get your body out of my mind.” Truth. “I can’t even concentrate on bridge anymore.” Truth. “If I go down on you now, we won’t go down in the finals tomorrow.” Sheer speculation.

My logic is resonating with him. Time to appeal to his other decision-making mechanism.

Leaning forward to deepen my cleavage, I grip my cocktail’s maraschino cherry by the stem, tease it with my tongue, glide it in and out my mouth, taunt it with my lips.

Andy watches my mouth, mesmerised.

Now for the big one. “Let me give you a blowjob, Andy. I’ll even pay you.”

He chokes on his drink. “You are offering me money to shine my knob? That’s, like, so fucked-up.”

Translation: that’s irresistible.

To be sure, my nipples are hard and I’m creamy with anticipation. I place a greenback on the table. “A hundred dollars will do you?”

His smile is pure bliss. “I guess I’d better take one for the team.”

About the Author: Eve Summers is the pen name under which Yvonne Eve Walus writes romance and erotica. Eve believes that words are the greatest aphrodisiac, and the best lover is the one who will set your mind on fire (though, of course, it's ok if he looks like Josh Holloway, too). Eve's first experience at writing erotica was a monthly members' only newsletter distributed among subscribers of a porn site. It was a guaranteed conversation-stopper. You can find out more information about her and her work at or

Author Interview: Helen Hardt

Whipped Cream is pleased to welcome Helen Hardt, author of "Seduced in Seoul," available through The Wild Rose Press. Helen also has two other erotic shorts soon coming from The Wild Rose Press.
I asked Helen how she distinguished between erotica, erotic romance, and pornography.

"This is an excellent question," she said. "I think a lot of people are confused by these terms. The question, 'what is erotic romance?' is easier answered by explaining what erotic romance ISN’T. First of all, erotic romance is not pornography. Pornography is written (or filmed) only to sexually arouse. There may be a plot, or there may not be. But there will be explicit sex, usually with more than one partner, and sometimes partners of the same sex. Erotic romance is not erotica. Erotica is sexually explicit writing which has a plot and is more literary in nature than pornography. There is often a sexual journey of sorts, and there isn’t always a happy ending.

"Erotic Romance is, at its core, romance. As in any romance, there is a well developed hero and a well developed heroine, both with goals, motivation, and conflict. There is a plot. And there are love scenes. The difference between erotic romance and traditional romance is that the love scenes are longer, more explicit, and contain graphic language. Sometimes the scenes will contain elements of alternative lifestyles, such as BDSM. But the love scenes serve a purpose other than to arouse (although sometimes they do!) or to illustrate a character’s self-discovery (although sometimes they do!) The love scenes exist to develop the relationship between the hero and heroine, and to help move the plot along to its ending, which will, of course, be a happy one. This is still romance, after all."

Helen began writing romance two years ago and didn't begin with the goal of writing erotic. She noticed, however, as she experimented with different genres that she wrote to the steamy side. "One day," she told me, "while struggling with writer's block, I decided to try writing an erotic short to clear the fog. It worked. The fog cleared, and the short became 'Seduced in Seoul.'"

Since the publication of "Seduced in Seoul," Helen has written three other erotic shorts. One of them, "Under the Moon," you can check out at The Pink Chair Diaries as a free read.

Helen's been writing stories since she was in the first grade and started her first novel, a young adult romance, in the eighth grade. "I still have the manuscript which I typed on an IBM Selectric," she said. She laughed and added, "Now I'm showing my age. In high school, I amused my friends by writing dirty stories about our teachers and students. Okay, maybe I was always meant to write erotic."

As with many people, though, Helen found that life got in the way, and she put her writing on hold while in college and law school. Later, she had children and became a stay at home mom. But once her boys were older, she decided to get back into writing.

"After completing a young adult fantasy fiction manuscript," she told me, "I picked up a romance (Nora Roberts' Morrigan's Cross) for the first time in over a decade. I got hooked, and decided to try writing romance. And here I am!"

Helen told me she found two books extremely helpful when she started out writing erotic romance: The Complete Idiot's Guide to Writing Erotic Romance by Alison Kent, and Passionate Ink: A Guide to Writing Erotic Romance by Angela Knight. "In addition, probably the most helpful resource in all my writing, not just erotic, has been an online course by Margie Lawson called Empowering Characters' Emotions," Helen said. "Margie is a chaptermate of mine. If you have the chance to take any of her online courses (she offers two others, as well) run, don't walk, and take them. She's phenomenal. ECE is especially helpful for writing erotic romance. I've read so many love scenes in erotic romance that are no more than tongues thrusting, lips sucking, body parts slapping together. Without the emotion to back it up, the reader won't get those 'belly tugs' that we all live for."

On a personal note, Helen has four piercings: three in her left ear and one in her right. "I used to have five in my left and two in my right," she shared with me, "but when I finished law school and took the bar exam, I decided that was a little much, so I let three of them close. I've come close to doing the belly button, but I keep hearing that it takes six months to heal. Body piercing, to me, is sexy in the same way tattoos are sexy-- as a tasteful adornment to a body that is already beautiful. Nothing is less sexy than a body that is covered in piercings or tattoos. I personally don't care for nose, lip, or eyebrow piercings. Nipple piercings are kind of sexy, but I'm not that brave!"

When it comes to food, raw oysters are up there at the top. "They're perfect for slurping right off a tummy," she said, "and, of course, they're known as an aphrodisiac. I know a lot of people don't like them, but I absolutely love them. They're slick and salty and just wonderful."

However, her very favorite is sushi. "Yes, I love raw food," she confessed. "Salmon is my favorite, and my second favorite is Unagi, which is freshwater eel. And it's actually cooked."

On the other end of the spectrum, however, she can't eat goat cheese. "Ugh," she said. "I'm convinced it's the work of the devil."

And, on a very personal note, she shared with me that her husband can tie a cherry stem with his tongue and, yes, she does know what a lucky woman she is!

Finally, I asked Helen what advice she would give an author just starting out.

"Self-educate, self-educate, self-educate! I'm totally serious," she declared. "There is so much more to writing romance than knowing the rules of grammar and being able to put together a colorful sentence. The resources I listed above are wonderful, and there's a wealth of others available. Self-education made a huge difference in my craft. A little over a year ago, I entered my first contest...and got my humility handed to me on a platter. After getting over the initial shock and damage to my thin writer's skin, I took a good look at the judges' comments and began the education process. I did much better in my second contest, though I didn't final. The third? All three of my entries finaled. Winners will be announced next month. I attribute those finals, and the fact that I'm now published, to self-education." You can keep up with Helen on her blog,

Friday, February 20, 2009

Friday Spotlight: Siren-Bookstrand

Samantha Hark is running from one werewolf when she ends up in the arms of two. Can she overcome her fears and insecurities to trust in the love they offer her or will her time run out as her past closes in with deadly intent?

JD and Caleb McBane aren't about to let anything or anyone stop them from claiming their mate, even if that person is Samantha herself. The mating musk may render their feisty mate pliant to their commands, but when it wears off, Samantha is back in fighting mode.

Can JD and Caleb tame Samantha before her enemies strike the killing blow?

Author's Bio

I live near Charleston, SC with my two biggies (my dogs). I have had a slightly unconventional life. Moving almost every three years, I've had a range of day jobs that included everything from working for one of the worlds largest banks as an auditor to turning wrenches as an outboard repair mechanic. I've always regretted that we only get one life and have tried to cram as much as I can into this one.

Throughout it all, I've always read books, feeding my need to dream and fantasize about what could be. An avid reader since childhood, as a latchkey kid I'd spend hours at the library earning those shiny stars the librarian would paste up on the board after my name.

I credit my grandmother's yearly visits as the beginning of my obsession with romances. When she'd come, she'd bring stacks of romance books, the old fashion kind that didn't have sex in them. Imagine my shock when I went to the used bookstore and found out what really could be in a romance novel.

I've working on my own stories for years and have found a particular love of erotic romances. In this genre, women are no longer confined to a stereotype and plots are no longer constrained to the rational. I love the anything goes mentality and letting my imagination run wild.

I hope you enjoyed running with me and will consider picking up another book and coming along for another adventure.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Thursday Spotlight: Siren-Bookstrand

What's a girl to do with five hot guys who need her for their sexual survival? Create a weekly schedule.

Accidentally transported to an alien spaceship, Valerie Thornhill inadvertently volunteers to be a virtual sex slave for five men.

A shortage of females and her blatant curiosity aboard the alien vessel conspire and set fate in motion. The fact that the five are sexy and attractive is helpful when she learns the term of service is three years.

Forbidden to show favoritism within her unusual household for the duration of the long trip, Valerie still can't help falling in love with the most intriguing one of her male harem. The fact that she is apprehensive about his demeanor and overall size only heightens her desire for him.

When the aliens discover Valerie's indiscretion, the ultimate price for her desire may jeopardize the return trip to Earth for all of them.

"Words fascinate me. I especially love hearing new word combinations because they often inspire story ideas. The spark for this book came after I heard the words male harem. I was well into writing the story before the word Menagerie traipsed across my conscious, becoming the perfect title. Hope you enjoy it."~ Lara ~

Author's Bio

Lara Santiago is the bestselling author of over twelve books. She's an Ecataromance award winner, a 2007 Passionate Plume finalist forThe Lawman's Wife, and has garnered a coveted four and half stars from Romantic Times Book Reviews for her novel, The Blonde Bomb Tech.

From her futuristic novels to her contemporary romantic suspense, she's known for her independent heroines and those compelling alpha males we all adore.

After turning in her twelfth manuscript, she came to the realization that this writing gig might just work out after all. She continues to dream up stories, keeping no less than ten story ideas circulating at any given time.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Wednesday Spotlight: Siren-Bookstrand

Life has never gone the way Mari wanted. She hasn't had a date in forever, her job is heading nowhere, and she can't get in touch with her sister. To make matters even more perfect, she has just been kidnapped by Russian mobsters while hiking in the mountains.

Being rescued by not one but two gorgeous men just makes the top of Mari's my life sucks list. They are both totally gorgeous, totally sexy, and totally into her. How is she supposed to choose between them?

But twins Cole and Bear Daniels have the perfect solution. She can have them both. They are telepathic in a way not many are. Not only can they talk to each other mentally, they can physically feel what the other is feeling. Because of this, they always know that they will share a mate.

Now if they can only convince Mari she is the perfect woman for them both. But convincing Mari they both want her and are willing to share is harder than Cole and Bear thought it would be, especially when someone is out to kill Mari and they have no idea who.

Author's Bio

Stormy Glenn believes the only thing sexier than a man in cowboy boots is two or three men in cowboy boots. She also believes in love at first sight, soul mates, true love, and happy endings.

When she's not being a mother to her six teenagers or cleaning up after her two 70 pound lap puppies, you can usually find her cuddled in bed with a book in her hand and a puppy in her lap. Or on her laptop, creating the next sexy man for her stories.

Stormy welcomes comments from readers and tries to answer all emails as soon as she can. You can find her on her author bio page at

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Tuesday Spotlight: Siren-Bookstrand

Nevvie Barton has never truly felt loved or like she belonged anywhere--ever. Abandoned by her adopted family and trapped in an abusive relationship, she takes a job with Tyler Paulson and Thomas Kinsey as their cleaning girl.

Nevvie knows her fantasies about "the boys" will always be just that--the two handsome men are devoted, loving life-partners. Then Tyler and Thomas fall in love with Nevvie and hatch a secret plan to seduce her and make her their permanent third.

For the first time in her life, she feels attractive and wanted. When they ask her to move in and be their personal assistant, Nevvie jumps at the chance. Her planned escape doesn't go without a hitch, and the boys must rescue her from a brutal man who would rather kill her than let her go.

Can Tyler and Thomas heal Nevvie's wounded body and soul and prove to her that she really is their dream come true?

"I love this book because I fell in love with the characters as I got deeper into the story. They really surprised me, and the dynamics between them as they related to each other were fascinating. They heal each other in different ways, and while they're all independent people, they're truly complete and stronger when they're together." ~ Tymber ~

Author's Bio

Tymber Dalton lives in southwest Florida with her husband Brucie (aka "The World's Best Husband™") and teenage son (Goddess help us all) Bopiwil (Bottomless Pit With Legs). She loves her family, writing, coffee, dark chocolate, music, a good book, hockey, shoes, and her dogs (even when they try to drink her coffee and eat her shoes).

When she's not dodging hurricanes or writing, she can be found doing line edits or reading or thinking up something else to write. You can drop her a line through her website/blog and keep abreast of the latest news, views, snarkage, and general ramblings she feels like posting when the mood strikes her. (She also writes for BookStrand as Lesli Richardson.)

Monday, February 16, 2009

Monday Spotlight: Siren-Bookstrand

Boone and Chase Jackson have managed to avoid Rachel Robinson for months, although it wasn't easy. She's a forever kind of woman and they've been burned too badly in the past to ever want a commitment again.

When Rachel gives up on them, though, they're not happy. Seeing that other men have decided to move on her, they give her a night she'll never forget. But they all get more than they bargained for when Rachel discovers she's pregnant. The men are quick to throw off their fears and make her their own.

But she doesn't believe them. Deciding their desire to commit is only for the baby's sake, Rachel refuses to believe that it's her they want. But the passion between the three of them is hotter than ever.

When the pregnancy is in danger, can she and her lovers still have a future?

"I love ménage stories. How can a woman resist having more than one man wanting to please her? In this story, though, Rachel's convinced that Boone and Chase only want her because she's carrying their baby. They'll just have to prove otherwise." ~ Leah ~

Author's Bio

I've always loved to read. I can't imagine going through life without it. And I've always loved happily ever afters. Sometimes when I would read a story it would send me off somewhere else so I wrote that story for my own amusement. Finally I decided to submit one. I love writing and can't imagine anything more satisfying then doing what I'm doing now. I hope people who read my books get the same satisfaction I get from books.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Author Interview: Kimberly Dean

Whipped Cream is pleased to welcome Kimberly Dean. Kimberly has written for Black Lace Books, Red Sage Publishing, Ellora's Cave, Avon Red, and her new Dream Wreaker series is published by Pocket Books.

I asked Kimberly to tell us a little about her latest book, In Her Wildest Dreams (our review of this book may be found here).

"In Her Wildest Dreams is the second book in my Dream Wreaker series," she told me. "It is set in the nighttime world of sleep and tells the stories of the Oneiroi, descendants of the Greek gods who help humans dream. What She Wants At Midnight, the first book, is the tale of an unknowing witch who summons her Dream Wreaker to her with a love spell… unaware of the implications that magic can have. In Her Wildest Dreams is a thriller about a Dream Wreaker fighting to save the woman he loves from an evil Somnambulist who overtakes her at night. Both are erotic paranormals that have received great reviews."

She consented to share the blurb for In Her Wildest Dreams with us.

Shea Caldwell fears sleep. As a child, she’d suffered greatly from sleepwalking, never knowing where she’d wander or what she might do. Her sleep disorder had worsened until one terrible night when she’d done something that could never be forgiven. She’s lived with the guilt ever since – only now her somnambulism is back.

Derek Oneiros is a Dream Wreaker, a spirit of the night that bestows dreams on sleeping humans. By day, he works with the beautiful Dr. Caldwell. By night, he watches over her as she sleeps. When an evil Somnambulist invades her dreams, the only way for Derek to save her from total possession is to possess her himself.

It’s a struggle for power, with Shea caught in the middle. The Somnambulist’s control over her is growing. Can Derek’s love save her? Or will she forever be a tool for the evil of the night?
Kimberly told me she wrote erotic romance before it was the "hot new thing." She continued, "When I started writing, U.S. publishers wouldn’t even consider my work. Black Lace Books in England was ahead of the game, and I took the chance of sending my work overseas. I was first published in 2001 when Black Lace Books included my story 'Playing with Fire' in their Wicked Words 5 anthology. They were great to work with and slowly U.S. publishers caught on that there was an unmet need in the marketplace. Smaller publishers started publishing hotter books, and I made my way back across the pond. The big New York publishers were still leery, however. I can still remember a Harlequin editor saying, 'Oh, you write the naughty stuff.' As a result, the mainstream publishers were slow to get in the game – until they decided to jump in with both feet. The pendulum has swung so far. Today I get reviews describing my books as having 'vanilla' sex. I finally figured out that they mean it’s free of S&M or fetishes, rather than it’s not hot – but I still wish they’d change their terminology.

"Overall, I think the change has been for the better. It’s opened up opportunities for some writers who were never given a chance before, and now they’re branching out into new areas. I’m sure things will change even more, and it will be interesting to see where the market goes from here."

Like other authors, Kimberly admits to wishing she could peer into the future and see just what the next big trend will be in that market.

She also thinks scientists should invent "a device that will automatically take the stories in your head (with all the vivid color, emotion, and action) and translate it directly to paper. No typing necessary."

That would definitely help with the problem of writer's block, which Kimberly admits to suffering from while writing In Her Wildest Dreams. I asked her how she got through it.

"Unlike other writers who insist you have to fight through it and write every day, I found I had to back away," she told me. "Forcing it wasn't going to help. Instead, I needed to know my story better. I tried different techniques including flowcharting and flash cards with the major points I knew the story needed to hit. Finally, arranging those flash cards on the wall seemed to work. In the end, I'm really happy with the way the story turned out. It's been getting very good reviews, so I'm glad that all the pain and suffering was worth it."

I also wanted to know which came first for her—characters or plot?

"They have to come at the same time for me," she explained. "I usually start with a scene that then expands into a fuller story. That scene will give the the characters and the necessary conflict. If I don't have both components, the story won't develop."

Finally, I asked Kimberly what advice she had for new writers.

"Learn your craft. Learn to pitch. You can have the best book in the world, but if you can’t get your concept across in a short period of time, you’ll lose your editor or agent’s interest. Act professionally," she said. "I was on a subway heading to a writer’s conference and there were other writers on board, bragging about their books. They were hooting and hollering, telling normal subway riders about how hot and sexy their books were. The thing they did not do was look at the expressions on the other riders’ faces. Even if these people had been readers, you could see that they were turned off by these authors’ behavior. That little scene did nothing to improve the reputation of romance books, and I was embarrassed on behalf of the genre." You can keep up with Kimberly on her website,

Friday, February 13, 2009

Friday Spotlight: Jodi Lynn Copeland

What tools are an author’s best friend when it comes to reaching readers?

As a reader, a website is what draws me in first and foremost. If I read a new author and enjoy their work, the first thing I do is go on a website hunt. I love to learn about authors and their journeys, both to publication and the day-to-day, as much as their books. When I am at the site, I will often sign up for a newsletter. I may also visit a blog, but am not all that likely to revisit.

Newsletters tend to be my big draw as they come directly to my inbox, no searching or clicking required. I can easily save them for whenever I have time to read them. Whereas, blogs require remembering to revisit a site and check it frequently for updates. If I had more time, this wouldn’t be a big thing, but with such little time, I generally forget to check them. As for content, excerpts and contests are both a big plus. Combining the two works great, as it requires a reader to check out an author’s new work with the incentive of a reward for doing so. I know many readers enjoy bookmarks, but I tend to lose them or my children end up swiping them as toys, so I don’t pick them up all that often.

As an author, I maintain both a newsletter and contests. You can join my newsletter, Passion Press, by sending a blank email to: I both run separate contests through the newsletter, then also do individual web ones each month at: In addition, I send out bookmarks, signed cover flats, etc. through periodic goodie mailings. Readers can sign up for the goodie list by sending an email with your snail mail address to:

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Thursday Spotlight: Jodi Lynn Copeland

What do future writing plans entail?

I hope lots of good stuff! :-)

I like to write across the genres as it keeps things fresh and interesting in my mind. I am writing a paranormal suspense with a witch and werewolf at current, as well as a “girlfriends journey through time to discover what’s in their heart” story. Then finally I have a short story I will soon be undertaking for The story will be written in the Spice-vein—lots of sexy heat!—and have a light paranormal edge. This one will be posted a chapter a week in the months of May and June, and is a free read for all. I will post details of the story on my website ( as the dates draw nearer.

Once my girls get a little older, I plan to have a good deal more time to write. I hope to delve into the a bit darker suspense realm then. I also am doing my best to find time to get back to some series I have been unintentionally avoiding at Ellora’s Cave—both Sons of Solaris and Wild Hearts. I regularly am asked when and if I plan to get back to them, and the answer is absolutely, just as soon as possible!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Wednesday Spotlight: Jodi Lynn Copeland

What is your latest release and the inspiration behind it?

Escape To Ecstasy was released from Kensington Aphrodisia the last week in January. It is now in stores across the country, as well as available online through the various vendors, like and Ecstasy is a contemporary erotic romance, but it has shades of suspense. It also has a lot of emotional punch. This is probably my favorite novel to date because it does pack that extra punch. So far most of the reviews I’ve received on it agree to this end. A reviewer/reader who gets an author’s work is truly a great reward!

When I first considered writing Ecstasy it was to revolve around an island of men with the supernatural powers to heal a woman’s spirit and soul. However, my editor wanted me to stay in the contemporary vein. So I lost the supernatural power aspect, but kept the rest of that angle. The private island is set off the coast of Maine and houses a sensual healing resort for women only. However, some of the men who are the healers need some healing help of their own. When they least expect it, they get just that from their leading ladies in this two-story combo.

The first story features a recluse heroine and a hero who considers himself responsible for a man’s death during his teen-age years. The second story is a reunion romance for the resort’s owner and his one-time girlfriend. Both contain the same set of characters, so after the first story ends, the reader gets to continue on their involvement with the heroine and hero from story one.

You can check out a brief excerpt from Ecstasy here:

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Tuesday Spotlight: Jodi Lynn Copeland

What do you write and what do you most prefer to write?

I am primarily published in various genres of erotic romance, through a number of publishers, including Kensington Aphrodisia, Harlequin Spice, NAL Heat, Ellora’s Cave, and so on. However, my first love was single-title romantic suspense, and that continues to be my greatest genre love today. When I pick up a book to read, I am most apt to pick a suspense novel as they tend to be the only ones that will keep me glued to my chair and the pages. I have little time to read, so I want a book that is going to pull me in and attempt to steal my mind away from all the tasks I should be focusing on.

From the writing standpoint, I also prefer suspense. Exploring and balancing the romantic and suspense subplot makes for added adventure and exploration on my part. Also, there are endless directions a suspense novel can take. Just when it seems the author has made it clear the villain is one person, something happens to clear their name and point fingers in another direction.

At current, I am working on a few different proposals, but the one calling to me the most is a paranormal suspense. The paranormal aspect is set in the modern day, so the larger focus is on the suspense. This one keeps giving me surprises, which I just adore! I am eager to get the proposal wrapped up and see what others think about it.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Monday Spotlight: Jodi Lynn Copeland

Describe Jodi Lynn as an author:

My writing career began in 2003 with the publication of my first erotic romance, Uncharted Waters, through Ellora’s Cave. Since then I have published three dozen novels and novellas with six different publishers. The actual novel process for me began over a half decade before, when I wrote a romantic suspense/mafia type of trilogy as a sort of escapism during my junior year of college. Each of those books was huge—well over single-title length—and far from publishable. As published authors will so often tell those writers still attaining the published level, perseverance and continuing to study the craft paid off. Finding fellow authors through online groups and local in-person events played a big role in the sale of that first book, and continues to be a huge part of my every day experiences and motivation.

Since that first release in 2003 and several subsequent ones over the next couple years, my writing style has changed quite dramatically. I used to be a pantser, who would sit down to a blank screen or sheet and write away without any known plot. With more pressing deadlines, small kids, a day job, and so much else occupying my mind and time, these days I need to do at least marginal plotting in advance. Still, I like to leave some of the story component open, as not knowing exactly what will happen leaves for excitement on the author’s end, as well. My schedule has also changed a good deal. I used to write whenever the mood or inspiration hit. Now I write whenever time allows. This often means writing well after midnight and stealing half hour patches throughout the day.

To read about my journey and learn a bit more on me outside of writing, visit the “About Jodi” page on my website: Please note if you tour the site, I just put up the new look so some pages are still under construction.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Perchance to Dream by Mysti Holiday

Maura never slept well when Jim was away, when she couldn’t curl up next to him like two spoons in a drawer. She hated sleeping pills, hated the way she felt in the morning, so she did what she could to exhaust herself.

First, a three mile run followed by fanatically corralling every dust bunny in the small house. She played ball with the dog until the normally inexhaustible retriever curled up in a corner in surrender.

And still she wasn’t ready to face bed alone. Maybe a little nookie with BOB would help. Sex with Jim surely made her good and drowsy. God, she loved her man. Damn his job that took him away so regularly.

She took a long, hot bath first, letting the warmth and wetness relax her body. She smoothed lotion on her long, toned legs like she was preparing for her lover. Dabbed a bit of perfume on her wrists, her throat. She released her hair from its French twist and brushed it ‘ til it gleamed.

Slipping into a black silk teddy with an open crotch, she crawled in between her satin sheets and reached into her nightstand drawer.

The vibrator was shaped like an animal, a tiny anteater with an abnormally long tongue on top. She turned it on and let that tongue lap at her clit, then let the tip of the vibrator gyrate its way slowly inside her wet hole. She licked the fingers of her free hand and played with her nipples, tugging at them and rolling them between index and thumb. Every tug made her gut clench, every lap of that anteater’s tongue sent heat and cream into her sheath.

The phone rang beside her and she glanced at the caller ID through slitted eyelids. Jim. She snatched the phone off the hook.

“Jimmy,” she moaned. “I miss you.”

He groaned low in his throat. “Are you touching yourself, Maura? Did you shove that fake cock into your hot cunt?”

“Mmm...but it’s not you.”

“Move it around, baby. In and out, harder and faster, and moan for me. I’m there, shoving myself into you. How does it feel.”

“Oh, God, good. What do you do next?”

The bedroom door opened and, startled, Maura dropped the phone.

“Surprise, baby.” Jim grinned and tossed his cell phone to the floor, stripping as he approached the bed. “Got done two days early and couldn’t wait to get home. Looks like you couldn’t wait, either.” He leaned down and covered her hand, the one holding the vibrator, with his own. Holding it in place, he covered her mouth with his, claiming her with a hot, moist kiss.

She opened to him, swirled her tongue around his and all but purred at the feel of his skin on hers. He moved away, stopping her hand from removing the vibrator inside her.

“Leave it.” He smiled. “I have something else in mind.” She cried out when he turned her over and slid a hand under her belly, lifting her ass in the air. He unfastened the little bit of material that held the crotch of the teddy in place and pushed the silky material up past her waist. He patted her exposed cheeks, then pressed a kiss to each one. “Oh yeah, baby...that’s what I’m talking about.”

He pushed the vibrator deeper and she thought she’d die from the rubber tongue flitting across her clit. “I’m going to come, Jimmy. I want you inside me. Ohhh...” she moaned the word as an orgasm coursed through her. “Damn you.”

He pulled the vibrator out a bit, just enough to keep that anteater from caressing her hypersensitive clit and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Keep that right there, Maura. In just a minute, you shove that inside you and I’ll be inside your other hole.”

He brushed a finger up her ass, circling it around her tight entrance and she thrilled at the thought of being full up, as full as she could be. A shiver danced across her skin. “Yes.”

Jim squeezed lube into her crack and slipped a finger inside, wiggling it around until her muscles relaxed. Once she did, he inserted a second and scissored them, widening the gap.

She balanced herself carefully on one elbow and reached back to encircle his cock with a hand. It was hard and warm and throbbed at her touch. She moved, up and down and up and down, turned on even more at the sounds he made.

“I’ve been ready for you for days,” he said and pulled away. “You keep that up, I’ll come in your fist. I’m not waiting any longer.”

“Take me, Jimmy. I’ve been ready for days, too.” She braced herself, shoving the vibrator deep inside just as he entered her from behind. The fullness took her breath away and she moved her vibrator in time with his thrusts. This time, when the lapping tongue on the vibrator brought her to orgasm, he came with her.

He pulled out slowly and lay beside her, a fine sheen of sweat on his skin. She slipped the vibrator out and dropped it on the floor before turning to grin at her husband.

“I love you,” he said and dragged a sheet over their bodies. Once they were covered, he pulled her against him, pressing her ass against his softening cock. His arm circled her waist firmly and she sighed.

“I love you, too.”

And, safely tucked up against the warm body of the man she adored, Maura dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time all week.

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

Author Interview: Nina Pierce

Whipped Cream is pleased to welcome Nina Pierce, whose introduction to romance and lust was Colleen McCollough’s The Thorn Birds, which is Nina’s all time favorite book. She told me, “The forbidden love between Meggie Cleary and the priest she couldn't have, Ralph de Bricassart, will forever be blazed in my memory. And when Richard Chamberlain played the lead in a made for television mini-series … well, that sealed it as my all time favorite love story.”

She feels one of the biggest public misconceptions about erotica is that erotica doesn’t have a story. “That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Writers of erotica struggle with the same plot and character issues as every other author,” she explained. “Writing a good sexual encounter is not only hot, but it also exposes character personalities to the reader. Seeing the hero and heroine grow and develop as they fall in love with each other is an important component of all romances, even erotica.”

There are a variety of ways Nina uses to research for her books. She told me, “If it’s just a quick question like ‘How hard an impact deploys side airbags?’, I just throw it out over some of my writer loops. Authors are great for sharing that kind of information. I’ve asked my local chapter some doozies.” She grinned. “They are wonderful...and patient.”

Other information she can find on the Internet. She told me online searches are great for “drugs, weapons, things you need to know about how to kill people...uh... I mean characters.” She added, “Sometimes it’s only a small detail, but makes a big difference when added to the whole story.”

On the other side of the spectrum are profession questions that require an interview. These are Nina’s favorites. She’s spoken to an architect, landscaper, retired FBI agent, game warden, police officers, and firefighters. She told me, “I’m setting something up with a detective in the near future. I can totally get lost in research. It’s one of my favorite parts of writing a story.”

Nina told me that when she first started writing in 2005, she wasn’t thinking about writing erotic romance. “My first attempt at writing is still sitting under my bed,” she confessed. “it’s a great story and I was very proud to get from ‘Once upon a time...’ to “Happily Ever After,’ but the writing is... well, let’s just say not fit for the light of day. Then I moved into romantic suspense. I wrote a plot about a stalker with lots of twists and turns in the story. It’s a great read, but I’m still shopping for a publisher.”

She found her stride with the suspense and decided to keep that aspect but to “open the bedroom door.” The first books she wrote with those elements—a suspense story with lots of hot sex—was The Healer’s Garden. It was published by Liquid Silver Books in December 2007 and Nina has continued to write erotic suspense stories for them.

I’m always curious what the families of erotic romance writers think about the books they write. Nina told me, “My family is extremely supportive of my writing. My adult children tell their friends that their mother writes, but none of them allow their friends to read my books. My husband brags about my writing, but doesn’t read my stories. He loves it when I read scenes out loud to him and he especially likes helping me research some of those love scenes.” She winked, then continued with a grin, “My extended family buys my books, but no one has dared read them. They don’t want to know their little sister/daughter knows about that kind of stuff.”

On a personal note, Nina told me she’d love to have a belly piercing. “A little jewel or dangly shining on my tummy; they’re so cute. Three babies and several years past my twenties, and it’s only something I can dream about,” she said. She doesn’t care for face piercings, but finds a man with pierced ears very sexy. “It seems so bad,” she explained. “Add a tattoo and I’m drooling.”

Nina also told me she’s a Pepsi person all the way, will only drink Coke if it’s vanilla, and she never drinks diet. “Ick,” she said, “and, besides, I have this whole phobia about aspartame.”

And, her husband can tie a cherry stem with his tongue. Yes, she realizes she’s a very lucky woman.

Finally, I asked her what kind of advice she would give a new writer just starting out.

“Never give up,” she said. “To become published you’ve got to really want it. The setbacks can be daunting. I've submitted chapters to writing contests and felt very confident with my entry, only to earn abysmal scores. I've sent partial chapters to agents and had them say I wasn't a good fit for them. I've received requests for full manuscripts and waited for a month only to be rejected. It hurts. It beats up on your ego and erodes your confidence.

“Decide that nothing is going to keep you from reaching your goal.

“Believe in yourself. Don't let others tell you "you can't" and if they do -- don't believe them. Tell everyone who will listen that you want to be a published author. Say it out loud. Don't keep your talent hidden. The more times you say it with conviction, the more real the dream becomes.

“Write. Write. And write some more. Then finish something and submit it. Don't let fear of rejection keep you from reaching for your goal. Put yourself out there. No one will accept a manuscript sitting under your bed.” You can keep up with Nina at her website, .

Friday, February 6, 2009

Friday Spotlight: Phaze


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

Lisabet Sarai was born more than half a century ago in Wisconsin, but grew up mostly in New England, in a series of suburban towns. She was always the egghead, the girl with the thick glasses at the top of her class. As she went on to university and graduate school, she acquired more degrees than anyone sensible would ever need. It wasn't until she was working on her second masters degree that she realized intelligence was sexy.

Lisabet became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she's written plays, tutorials, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and of course, erotica and erotic romance.

Her lifelong interests in sex and the written word became serenditipitously entwined nine years ago when she read her first Black Lace book by Portia da Costa. Her work inspired Lisabet to take her fantasies out of the closet (and the private email files) and expose them to the world. The rest, as they say, is history (although granted, no more than a minor footnote!)

She's been married for more than twenty-six years, much to her surprise; she never expected to find a lifelong partner. Still, she's had her share of erotic adventures, some of which her husband and Lisabet have shared.

She has always loved traveling; her husband seduced her in a Burmese restaurant by telling her tales of his foreign adventures. Since then she has visited every continent except Australia, although she still has a long travel wish list. Currently she lives with him and their two exceptional felines in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her creative writing. She can be found online at


"Exposure" by Lisabet Sarai

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Thursday Spotlight: Phaze

The Dom Next Door

Professor Alex Johnson is a teacher by day, Dom by evening. Nadia Flemming is his next door neighbor. While she is attracted to the slightly nerdy conservative Brit next door, she is also a bit intimidated.

Alex decides to show Nadia that he isn't the shy, sweet man she's always believed him to be, and sends Nadia on a journey of sensual delights that rocks her world.
Violet Summers is a married mother of three beautiful children, including one set of twins, one rambunctious puppy, and one husband, except when she’s a single mom of one spoiled teenaged God-child, three spoiled kitties, and two spoiled, elderly parents. Both of Violet’s personalities
are very busy!

No, Violet has not suffered a psychotic break yet (though she may after dealing with creating web-pages and MySpace accounts). Violet is actually the writing team of Sierra Summers and Violet Johnson.

Neither woman can remember quite when she started writing, though VJ has a vague memory of a story written in the seventies about a girl named Carmel (that’s Car-MELL) who wore designer Sassoon “shapes,” or jeans. It was not, she says, her finest work.

Both women read voraciously, and in a multitude of genres. Sierra classifies them as “readers, as opposed to readers of romance. This means when we write, we’re as concerned with the story as we are with the sex.” That said, Sierra has been known to boycott books where the characters
haven’t “done the deed,” by page 125.

Sierra and VJ live in Southeast Michigan, and the spice of the Metro-Detroit area often flavors their work. “Why look for a more glamorous setting,” VJ asks, “when we’ve got the beautiful, re-vitalized Downtown area to draw from?”

Violet Summers writes in a variety of genres, from contemporary to paranormal; from soft BDSM to fantasy. The two things all her stories have in common is their deeply emotional stories and their scorching erotic love scenes.

Sierra and VJ love to hear from their readers. You can contact them at You can find them online at, and


Violet Summers' "The Dom Next Door"

Alex had been on simmer all day. Nadia's call, and the knowledge that all the tools he needed to restock his private dungeon were sitting in her living room just waiting for him, had kept his cock on high alert and his nerves on edge. Hell, he'd barely been able to concentrate on his lecture on the relationship of Byron to Percy and Mary Shelley. In fact, the kinky implications of that little trio only added to his sexual tension.

Sadly, as exciting as the prospect of replenishing his little corner of heaven was, he didn't have anyone to share it with at the moment. Alex was a Master, with a capital M. He trained both Doms and submissives, shepherding them into a mutually satisfying, safe, sane and consensual lifestyle. His most recent trainee, a sub named Ben Reynolds, had left Alex for the love of his life, Stacey Stanton. Alex smiled at the thought. Ben and Stacey had both been his pupils in the art of Domination and submission, and he liked them both a great deal. The idea that he had something to do with reuniting them gave him a warm glow down deep. Unfortunately, he thought wryly, it does nothing for the raging inferno down a bit lower.

Alex dismissed his final class fifteen minutes early, finally unable to resist the call of the delivery at Nadia's. As he drove toward their small cottages, he considered the prospect of a new trainee. This one needed to be a female. While Ben had been eager to learn, Alex's tastes had never leaned toward men, and Ben was about as heterosexual as they came. No, Alex's next pet had to be a female. His aching cock wouldn't stand for anything less.

Immediately his mind jumped to the woman he'd like to train. Nadia. Beautiful, funny, sensual Nadia. For the last three years she'd dominated his fantasy life, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her damp red mouth pursed around his dick, her full, natural breasts swaying as he spanked her lush, round ass. In his fantasies Nadia was the perfect sub, sassy and vulnerable an irresistible combination.

Unfortunately, she'd made it abundantly clear she saw him as nothing more than a friend. A pizza and movie buddy. And Alex valued that friendship too much to jeopardize it by pursuing more.

With the lingering vision of Nadia on her knees before him, naked with her wrists bound behind her back, he pulled into his driveway and headed across the lawn. He had a key but, as usual, her door wasn't locked. He opened it quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she was working, and felt the breath freeze in his chest at the sight that met his eyes.

Nadia. On her knees before him. She wasn't naked, but she was clutching a black rubber butt plug that put all sorts of ideas into his mind.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Wednesday Spotlight: Phaze

Licks and Promises

Licks & Promises is a new erotic short story collection by a master of the genre. If you like your sexy stories sweet, silly, scary or simply outrageous, this is the book for you! Featuring classic M.Christian stories plus some tales that have never been seen before. This is one book you'll read, re-read, and remember for a very long time.

M.Christian is an acknowledged master of erotica with more than 300 stories in such anthologies as Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bisexual Erotica, Best Fetish Erotica, and many, many other anthologies, magazines, and Web sites. He is the editor of 20 anthologies including the Best S/M Erotica series, The Burning Pen, Guilty Pleasures, and others. He is the author of the collections Dirty Words, Speaking Parts, The Bachelor Machine, and Filthy; and the novels Running Dry, The Very Bloody Marys, Me2, Brushes, and Painted Doll. He can be found at


M. Christian's "The Train They Call the City of New Orleans" from Licks and Promises

Someone bumped into her elbow, jogging her memory. With a sharp shock, she straightened.

“Sorry,” said a heavy voice from above. His smile was bright, beaming as it was tossed back at her from over his right shoulder. Her artist’s eyes picked him apart: the dull reds of his wool shirt, the aqua and white of his worn jeans, the terra-cotta of his comfortable leather boots, the marbling of his black and white peppered curly hair and beard. The smile stayed a bit too long, a touch stretched out as he took a seat three rows ahead of her.

That damned place, she thought, that awful place. Iron balconies and brick, a turgid river moving with eternal purpose, shanty-shacks and mansions, crawfish and red peppers, too-sweet drinks and strong shots, an atmosphere of vomit and magnolia blossoms. She’d begun there as if it was just the same as the Pacific Northwest, just warmer, with more colors -- but then it had started. Slowly, as said, insidious. Laying awake on a hot night, fanning herself with a magazine, body bare for a simple cotton dress. Thoughts had emerged, and she’d found herself pacing -- at first
in her mind and then with her feet, like a trapped jungle cat.

She’d had lovers before, of course, but they’d been intellectual, artistic interludes -- executed with caution. They had either faded way, leaving nothing but memories, or had broken apart with only a few tears. But after she’d started renting that little place, the high-ceilinged loft
near the river, she’d begun to crave, to hunger, in a way that was unfamiliar. Maggie had eaten before, but now she wanted to hunt and feast.

On the train, leaving that hot and humid city, she looked at the back of his head, recapturing for herself the breath of his shoulders, the tightness of his stride, the strength of his legs, the firm muscles of his back and ass. It was too easy to picture him, standing on the rough boards of her studio floor, clothes piled into a far corner. Standing firm and large before her. She saw her hands as holding a bit of charcoal, capturing the flow of him, the planes and curves of his broad, firm body on a sketchpad.

It had been that place. It had hexed her, seeped into her open pores, worked its way into her. All that light, heat, spices, had done something to her. It had started burning her, making her smoke and steam.

She started masturbating. Casually at first, but then with a passion for herself that no lover had ever shown. It became an act of love, a thought-out and anticipated event. She’d spend the sweltering days thinking of a fantasy, constructing in her vivid imagination the location, feel, the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice, the words he’d speak, the feelings that would come to her. She’d sketch him, capturing him on a few scraps of paper: his face, his chest, his arms, his legs, his penis -- both hard and soft. Then, prepared and burning even hotter as the sun set on the filigreed rooftops, she’d stretch out on her cheap little bed, pull up her simple cotton dress, and tangle her fingers, at first, in the curls of her pubic hairs, and then with a few deft strokes, part her lips and relish in the humid excitement of her cunt. Her other hand would be reserved for her tight nipples, the right when she wanted the familiarity of her favorite breast, the left for when she imagined his mouth, hand, there. It would go on for hours, and then even longer as the reds and yellows of her pallet, of the city, had started to really penetrate her skin.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Tuesday Spotlight: Phaze

Battery Drain

Alex's life is pretty simple: hack through the back doors of a few multinational companies' accounting sections, grab a million here, a million there, and feed his addictions. But a recent run in with a virtual security system forced him to reexamine his priorities. That's when Morgan reappeared in his life. Morgan - seductive, deadly, beautiful raven haired assassin that haunts men's dreams, walks out of a crowd and hands him the opportunity for a new kind of mission, one that includes her as a bonus prize. In return, Alex must become a cybernetically enhanced superwarrior, question his own humanity, and all along, Morgan fades in and out of his dreams, his personal experience, and continues to offer her influence and her sexual favors, in his life.

Don Luis de la Cosa is a new author with Phaze Books, however, he's not new to publishing. Currently he has one science fiction novella published with Phaze Books called "Battery Drain." Don also has a contract with Drollerie Press and a pending story in an anthology edited by Zane. He can be found at,, and


Battery Drain by Don Luis de la Cosa

Morning reaches out and pulls me from the restless sleep that exhaustion has forced over me. Harsh sunlight filters through the grates in the metal floor that serves as a ceiling to the basement I’ve called home for the past few days. Daytime’s the worst. All the input between the daylight from upstairs and the stark white lab coats is too much for my optics, though, several of the techs habitually wear tight skirts as if they’ve forgotten I’m down here or simply don’t care. I’ve seen enough Victoria’s Secret while sitting here in the semi-darkness to rival their website.
Maybe they do care. Outside, I can hear the activity on the docks: the boats loading and unloading, workers shifting around shipments, and seagulls, lots of them. Must be fish. The subway rumbles past, five hundred yards away in an underground tunnel, and a wayward rat gets toasted when he brushes the third rail. I flip through the several different visual scans my new optics permit, just to pass the time. In one, heat signatures and temperature walk across my field of vision. In another, distances and center of mass targeting scrolls across on a tech’s
white lace thong in liquid red lettering. All the sensory input can sometimes send me into a hypnotic overload, and I close my eyes to concentrate on trying to control the waves of information my awakening senses are receiving.

The pain in my limbs has lessened in the past few days to the point where I can carefully move around the small basement without fainting. I feel as if gravity has suddenly became an arbitrary concept, or perhaps increased so much that it’s made moving around exceedingly difficult. I reach out to steady myself against the wall and my arm snaps up with a speed that
continues to amaze me. My body seems almost foreign, with reactions and perceptions I previously thought only possible in the purely digital realm. That was all fine with me, as long as they made sure to include my tongue in the list of organs they had mechanized.

Simple surgery to augment my capabilities was the common sense way to ensure that I survived what I’d been hired on to deal with. My last ‘job’ as a deck jockey hadn’t really required much physical exertion, except for carrying flat panels and cables to connect everything. Hell, even sex was virtual at this point. I had, in fact, managed to accomplish one of my infiltrations by seducing the security guard who, as she should have been, was jacked in when I showed up. Other times, more often than not actually, the data I would pilfer was buried under several sublevels of virtual security. Hacking has never been a completely safe profession, but in today’s market, the risks were heavier than ever before, defense mechanisms could just as easily result in mild frustration as neural disintegration. A few narrow escapes from the latter convinced me of the
need to change professions before something unpleasant happened.

Over the years, I had made a number of contacts involving my line of work, others who ride the edge of life to survive. I figured searching out a few old faces might help me rethink my options. My searching finally ended in a small bar hidden in a dirty corner of the city. Of course now, most corners of the city were pretty dirty.

She sat alone in a corner booth, silently observing the activities of the other patrons, mood lighting enhancing the sharpness of her jawline, shadowing her already shadowy mahogany brown hair, and accenting the cleavage her far too flirty outfit revealed. With a subtle nod of her
head, she offered me the open seat opposite her. Cautiously, I crossed the room and slid onto the vacant bench.

Turns out she’s looking for a samurai, a cybernetically enhanced bodyguard, to help her in her latest endeavor. I told her the story about my last brush with security at that company in England, and my inherent distaste for the field. She affected disinterest, and with a wave of her
hand, dismissed my concerns.

“You’re better at it than the people trying to keep you out, Alex. The last time we worked together, you really didn’t even need me, your security measures were so tight. Hell, it took them three weeks to even realize they’d been compromised.”

She did have a point. But what were the risks? And were there any benefits?

“In any sort of encounter, there are three distinct possibilities: one, you lose, two, you win, and three, it’s a draw, and neither of you ends up on top. So, yes, there are risks. Of course, we’re going to give you every tool in the book to make sure that you win and fight dirtier than anyone
else in the game.”

This was getting very serious, very fast. She sensed my apprehension and told me about the money involved. It was a tidy sum, and my bank account could definitely use the extra padding, but, why me? Why not somebody else?

“I already told you, you’re the best. You are one even if you haven’t yet realized it. Inside you is a spirit with a purpose. I’ve seen it. Your capabilities are so much more suited to this than sitting behind a console.” I listened to her words and silently thought about their meaning. I had never before thought to become one of the enhanced muscle that provide the physical support for a large scale attack on a corporation’s assets. I was always tucked away from the front lines behind miles of optic computer cables, writing myself checks for the immense collections of half cents that get lost in companies’ accounting. The tone of her voice, the look in her eyes and the warmth of her face all combined to finalize my decision. However, she wasn’t going to get me easy.

“So, tell me why I should accept your money when I can pull that down in a weekend without having to risk my neck in the process.”

“Because it’s in you, Alex. You might be happy doing what you’re doing for small change and stacking chips from shady deals, but at some point, you’re going to have to let it out.” She stared me in the eye for a long dramatic pause, just long enough to hypnotize even the deadest of poker
faces, and then dropped a bomb in my lap. “And you get me as part of the deal.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I don’t lie, Alex.” And with that, she rose from the table, knowing that I would follow her, and glided across the floor to behind a velvet curtain. The shadows in that section of the bar made the pockmarked wall look even less sturdy than it should, but, I followed her knowing that she
was right when she said she didn’t lie. Behind the red crushed velvet curtain was a couch draped with the same material, and one solitary light, dimmer than the one at the table jutting from the exposed surface of the exterior wall. I thanked my lucky stars that she was wearing rubber when she sat on that couch, no doubt countless years of DNA had been spilled on its surface, and it certainly didn’t look like someone cleaned back here all that frequently. But then, that was part of the charm of this place.

She pulled me closer to her and started kissing my zipper, her hands grabbing me from behind as her lips slid and her tongue played across the enclosure. I had, since our very first encounter years ago, been dreaming about this, and to finally find it going on was almost enough to have me come right then and there. Of course, I wouldn’t dream of missing out on this experience for the world. She undid the hooks on my leather pants, the buckles at the waist similarly ceding to her expertise. She had me exposed faster than I could have protested if I was inclined to, and slowly began to lick my shaft from base to tip, wrapping her lips around the member along the way, and tickling the tip before swallowing the whole thing like a hungry beast. She pumped me in and out of her mouth, grabbing my hips and pulling me toward her. Her tongue did things to me that there were probably illegal in several states and I came in burning jets that went straight down her throat, grabbing for any handholds I could reach in order to keep myself from collapsing onto the floor.

She sucked the last drops from me and wiped the edges of her mouth. I tried like hell to make sense of what had just happened, and then, realizing there wasn’t an explanation, simply allowed the wave of pleasure to wash over me before I buttoned myself back up. She stayed on the couch until I finished putting myself together, and then rose, a hairsbreadth away from me. I could still smell the sex on her lips.

Just before she left the alcove, she spoke in a half whisper, saying, “Think about it, won’t you?”

Damn! Every time we get together, she rocks my world! I watched her disappear into the crowd and out the door before following the same path. On the way home in the transport, I sat in a daze wondering if I was making the right decision. I fell into my bed and didn’t wake up until
late in the day, though I suffered through a recurrent dream about battles fought and mortal wounds. When I woke, I commed Morgan and let her know that I would join the team, what else could I do? She let me know that arrangements had already been made for the procedures, and she would be by in half an hour to personally escort me to the location. I quickly stuffed
everything I thought I would need for a fast recovery into a bag: cyberdeck, HK Phoenix automatic pistol (just in case), and a couple fresh changes of clothes. The chime at the front door made me jump. Was I completely insane, or was this just another business opportunity? I
answered the door to find Morgan standing there, dressed skimpily, but not unclassy, with the same soft glow in her eyes that I had noticed at the bar. She asked if I was ready to go and I replied that I was, shouldering my bag. We left the building and walked out to the subway to cross the city.

On the way to the clinic, she told me more about the work to be done after my recovery. I’ve never heard anyone describe storming a fortress as being ‘easy’ before, but she somehow convinced me that it would be. Armed recon drones, wall-mounted cannons just to take care of those types who wanted to emulate Spiderman, windows made of the same material that commercial interstellar flights used in their windscreens – practically impenetrable stuff. Once inside, a laser latticework filled the hallways to detect the slightest amount of movement, and the mainframe we needed to get to was guarded by a quad-phase electric containment unit that only one person had the code for.

Yet, she assured me that all of this was not really the issue.

“The mainframe we have to get into is a new liquid state model. We’ve had some of the best people working on this for the better part of a year, but haven’t been able to crack it.”

“So, how do you think having me there to keep all the bad guys off your ass will remedy the situation?”

“Because I’ll actually be going along just to carry all the artillery.”

“And who’s going to do all the work?”

Morgan simply smiled at me, the left side of her mouth curling up and her eyebrows lowering to give her a sinister appearance. That sneer only served to remind me of what else she’d done with those lips the night before, and suddenly, my pants were far too tight. Her higher than
mid-thigh dress barely covered her, and as we traveled further toward the edge of the city, nearing the docks, the subway car became increasingly empty. Once I’d become excited, every time I looked at her face, I felt those lips caressing my stiffness. After two more stops, we were
completely alone, and her discourse had become a low hum in the background, fading in and out of the train’s own throaty whine.

“Alex, have you been listening?”

“I’m sorry Morgan, it’s just that, well, I was thinking about….”

She recognized my intent before I was able to complete my sentence. She’d been watching my erection grow just as much as I’d been dreaming about her lips. Never once frowning at my forwardness, nor hesitating for an instant, she approached me from where she stood, fingers suggestively curled around and sliding along the floor to ceiling pole. She leaned over slowly, making sure I saw straight down the top of her garment, and kissed me passionately, her mouth eager, hungry, her tongue just as surprisingly deft as it had been last night. Then, she undid my pants with an expertise equal to that of the last time. She found my hardness pulsing to her
touch, and, turning, she reached for the bottom of her skirt, slid it above her hips, revealing her nakedness and inching toward my face with her ass. I could smell her already wet, a spicy sweetness to which I was immediately addicted. I grabbed her hips, brought her to my face, and
caressed her delicate lips with my own tongue, drinking the honey that dripped from between them. When I released her, she straddled me, and I noticed a large tattooed design across her waistline in the separation peeking out from under the material. Grabbing my shaft, she slid down onto me, damn near burning me she was so hot. We were far from the city’s center and the only other stop this train made was at the docks, a good twenty minutes away, plenty of time to accomplish our mission. Once she was comfortable on top of me, she started gyrating and bucking her hips, the trains vibrations and constant rocking from side to side adding to the
experience. We weren’t in that position long before I found myself almost ready to explode. Wanting to prolong this as much as possible, I grabbed her around the waist, stood up, and using the handrails for stability, continued in this new position, screaming, sweating, straining, feeling
the rush of fluids begin and suddenly, inadvertently, my gaze fell upon the bold design tattooed on her back, some ancient god whose significance was entirely lost on me. Its image was terrifying: an enormous fanged snake’s head on a scaly human body with a similarly terrifying skirt of serpents. The image impacted me so much that I came fast and hard, stumbling backward and thankfully falling into a chair. Morgan rushed over to me, with both hands on my knees to steady herself, and sucked the last few drops out of me, rocking gently with the train, the smell of sex permeating the air. Again those lips, she was fast converting me into a devotee, and I wasn’t quite sure just how to reconcile my feelings. We hurriedly got dressed as we were approaching the station, gathered our things and stood by the door.

Once at the shipyards, it was a short walk to the warehouse that contained the clinic we were looking for. A man wearing a white lab coat met us at the door and ushered us inside. The interior of the clinic was a stark change from the outer warehouse façade. Offices with open doors lined a short hallway that ended in a large metal door labeled “Personnel Only”. My escort’s deft fingers played across a fingerprint scanning keypad, gaining us access through the metal door, opening onto a large trailer dominating the open space. I was told this trailer was the operating room and on the far side were the accommodations where I would be recovering. A
rather small attendant crossed the open distance, taking my coat and bag, telling me they would be in my room after the procedure. As the attendant walked away, Morgan told me she would be leaving to complete some arrangements. I watched her retrace the path we had just walked and then I turned to the man in the white lab coat to see what was next.

He told me he was a technician and would be assisting in the implants after I had been checked out by the medical team. Basic stuff: signal boosters to speed response time, multi-scan optics, channel amplifiers to improve aural capabilities, and rapidly multiplying nanotechnology would
be injected into the bloodstream to bond with and augment the existing neural network in order to handle the excess of information and the signal boosters’ higher range of output. Nothing I hadn’t heard of before, but certainly nothing I had ever expected to be going through myself. We walked toward the surgical trailer and I looked at the opaque windows lining the sides. Reaching the door, the technician opened it and led me into a rather large examining room. I sat on an empty table and tried to get comfortable as another man in a white coat strode into the room. The second man walked over to me and introduced himself as the head surgeon for my operation. He professionally explained the procedures he would be using, and the schedule for recovery, while checking my pulse, listening to my breathing, and testing my reflexes. After these items were finished, the doctor told me I would be put under for the examination and surgery, explaining it was easier to gather their data if I was unconscious. I pressed him on this point, challenging that he might simply want to put me under so he could transport me for one of the companies I’d hacked.

“Of course someone in your position might consider that. However, what I’m talking about is slicing through skin and muscle to the major nerves running through your body, then attaching pulse meters at both ends in order to test transmission rates. Local anesthesia won’t work at those depths, and if you so much as twitch during the operation, you run the risk of either damaging or severing the nerve completely and incapacitating that side of your body. Of course, we could regrow the nerve, but, the blood typing, stem cell generation, growth time, installation, and rehabilitation would conservatively take two years, during which time no one would even remotely consider the possibility of allowing you on an interstellar transport if, for some unforeseen reason, you should need to leave town on ‘business’. Or you could just agree to be
put under general anesthetic.”

“I see your point, Doc. So, when do we get started?”

“Follow Althea, there, and get showered. Use the scrubber to clean everything. I hate dirty patients.”

Monday, February 2, 2009

Monday Spotlight: Phaze

Phaze Books is the erotica and erotic romance imprint of Mundania Press, LLC. Established in November, 2004 with five titles, Phaze Books has in the last five years grown to offer 200+ titles and counting in eBook and trade paperback. Phaze Books is proud to include among its roster a number of nationally bestselling authors, award-winning writers, and popular names in the romance genre.

Phaze Books has maintained a visible presence at various romance writer/reader conferences over the years, and select print titles are shelved in independent and chain bookstores across the United States. Phaze Books has produced several Romantic Times BOOK Reviews Magazine Top Picks, multiple ARIANA winners, an EPPIE winner, and several winners and finalists of reviewers awards. We have published authors who have appeared on USA Today and New York Times besteller lists, as well as being bestsellers. Our goal is to offer more quality romantic fiction in the years to come.

Phaze Books is most proud of our affiliation with Phaze Books' author and editor Alessia Brio's Coming Together series. ALL print & ebook royalties (author/poet, editor, and artist) are donated to charity of each anthology collection.

Our current Coming Together collection that was released January 18th, 2009 is our Coming Together: At Last anthology. This collection contains stories and poetry with interracial romances and couplings where race is not the issue. The theme of all stories is hope. We had so many wonderful entries that we had to create two collections! In Volume I, we have Aurora Black, Alessia Brio & Will Belegon, Saskia Walker, Cerise Noire, RaeLynn Blue & Shara Azod, Lee Benoit, Jeremy Edwards, Andrea Jackson, Sergio Ortiz, Zoe Nichols, Seressia Glass, Lisabet Sarai, Yvette Hines, and Jax Cassidy. And in Volume II, we have Steve F. Young, Aliyah Burke, Ralph Greco, Tex Randall, Jude Mason, Sacchi Green, Chloe Waits, Jolie du Pré, Jae Knight, Allison Wonderland, Selena Kitt, J.M. Jeffries, Andrea Dale, Robert Buckley, Bridget Midway, and Chloe Waits. The introduction for both collections is written by New York Times bestselling author of the Vampire Huntress series, L.A. Banks.

All proceeds of this sale will go to Amnesty International. "The stars seemed to line up for Phaze Books with this collection," says Phaze Books publisher, Kathryn Lively. "First we release a collection of work involving interracial romances at a time when our nation has just sworn in our first African-American president, who is, himself, the result of an interracial relationship. Our anthologies were released the day before Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and two days before President Barack Obama
took office. And at the president's ball, President Obama and the First Lady danced to the song 'At Last'. I don't think we could have planned this better if we tried."

For more information on Phaze Books, please check out our site at And for more information on the Coming Together series, go to


"Enough Said" by Bridget Midway from Coming Together: At Last- Volume II

Autumn opened her eyes and rolled onto her side. She crawled over the bed to the nightstand and dove into the drawer where she found a friend she hadn’t used in long, long time. The bright pink plastic phallus hummed and vibrated as soon as Autumn turned the switch at the bottom.

This unique vibrator worked in water. Remembering its capabilities, Autumn ran to the bathroom and turned on the shower in the cramped stall. Without taking off the T-shirt, she got inside, letting the cool water attempt to lower her overheated flesh.

She put one foot on the wall next to the faucet and braced her free hand on the built-in soap dish. She slipped the vibrator inside of her, slow at first. Once she got it all the way inside, she let out a long, low cry. The feeling couldn’t match Sean’s dick but it was very close.

Autumn moved the vibrator in and out of her at a faster pace. The music echoed in the bathroom. The sound, the smell, the feeling, they were all like Sean, almost. It would be things like this that would have to pacify her in his absence.

Her leg supporting her body trembled as she leaned her head back. Autumn’s stomach compressed into a ball as she squeezed her nipple. The build up to the orgasm churned at a slow pace, but at least she knew she could get there. With Sean, he could look at her and she wanted to claw her clothes off and spontaneously combust right on the spot.

As the climax started to build, her strength began to wane. Autumn slipped down the wall as she continued to piston the vibrator in and out of her greedy cunt.

“Sean! Sean! Sean!” Even with her eyes closed, she noticed an immediate shift in the lighting in the stall, as though someone had flashed a light on her.

Autumn opened her eyes and turned to the glow. Sean stood next to the shower stall with the curtain pulled back and carrying a self-satisfied grin. Without a word, he covered her hand holding the vibrator and he removed it from inside of her. Not bothering to turn it off, he tossed it to the floor.

Autumn hooked her hand behind his head and pulled him, clothed and all, into the small stall. Sean craned his head down to kiss her while both of their hands worked on his shorts, trying to undo them and get them down.

Once his cock was freed, Sean took no time in looping his arm under her propped up leg as he guided the head of his penis to her pussy. He stared into her eyes as he pushed his way inside of her.

Autumn clawed his wet shirt clinging to his back and wrapped her other leg around his body. Just like she liked, just what she wanted, he pounded inside of her fast and hard. Cramped space or not, he knew how to please her.

Sean massaged her breast as he kissed her, darting his tongue in and out of her mouth. Autumn’s hand moved up to the back of his neck to his head where she immediately noticed his new shorter haircut.

At that point, he let her breast go, brought her hand down, carried her outside of the stall to the counter, and left the shower running. The old Autumn would have yelled at Sean for getting the bathroom floor so wet. Now it seemed so trivial.

Sean cupped her ass cheeks as he slid himself in and out of her. Even with his tan, his cheeks flushed red. Autumn framed his face with her hands. His strong jaw line now had a fine sandpaper grit covering it. Trying to capture a new sensory detail, she smoothed her hands over his face, letting the prickly hairs tickle her palms.

As soon as Autumn felt Sean’s legs shaking, her pussy twitched, tightening around his shaft. The feeling provoked a moan from Sean. He squeezed her ass cheeks, then nibbled her earlobe.

She coiled her legs around his body and released a scream that would have been worthy enough to have the police alerted. It didn’t take Sean long to follow suit, letting out his own guttural growl to complement her shriek. His muscles tensed in an instant as she felt his hot cum bathing her insides. That feeling she wouldn’t be able to duplicate.

After a tense moment, Sean exhaled. His shoulders and back relaxed as he kissed the side of her face and moved to her mouth.

When he broke from the kiss, he said, “Marry me” with a smile.

“Ask me when your dick isn’t inside of me.” Autumn laughed.

The smile dripped down from Sean’s face. He pulled out of her but kept his hold on her. “Marry me.”

Autumn regarded him for a moment. She laughed at first, thinking the joke was still rolling until she noticed how stoic Sean’s face had become.

“Marry me,” he said again with the beat of their sex song playing in the background.

Autumn wriggled away from him. “No.”