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Monday, May 31, 2010

Monday Spotlight: Jennifer Campbell


“What do you mean, be your slave? You can’t possibly mean actually give up my freedom and serve you, sexually and otherwise? Do people do that?” As Misty looked at her new lover her big hazel eyes indicated her surprise at what he had just suggested. She had always thought submission and bondage were confined to a freaky segment of the population. People who read those kinky books she’d seen in the bookstore, but then she remembered the time when she opened one those books began to read what was inside; she had a hard time stopping and putting it back on the shelf.

“Many people have D/s relationships, normal folks like you and I. Submission and power exchange are exciting and they add a spice to your love life.” Even though they were in the public square with dozens of people walking about around them, Marcel slowly reached out and touched her breast feeling her nipple through her thin bra and silk blouse. “Your nipples are hard, Misty, does the idea of being my slave excite you?”

Her New England upbringing made Misty instinctively pulled away from his fingers rubbing her breast, but she realized it wasn’t because she didn’t like him touching her in public. No, her action was more societal restraint and her mother’s teaching of what was proper for a lady than her own desire. Misty understood if not for those things she would have let Marcel play with her nipples here in public.

Knowing him had been the whirlwind of her life and it had only been a just over a month since she’d met the handsome French student and his dark eyes had penetrated to her soul. There had been a fleeting moment when she’d wondered if she should pull back and go slowly with him, but she hadn’t been able to. No, she trusted him, heart and soul, for better or for worse.

Yet she still wondered why her? Marcel was a ten when it came to guys even if you took away his French accent and why would you take it away? Misty knew she was basically attractive with a slim figure and long red hair which got attention, but her boobs were right on the line between B and C cup, so she didn’t wow guys. In her mind she keep thinking he could have had anyone so why me?

Putting it all aside, she looked at him with his curly sienna hair and those eyes which melted her. She knew under his shirt was a ripped chest with a sexy six pack which she loved to touch when they were naked together in bed. Yes, in bed, she had capitulated to him sexually and she would have turned red if she had to tell her mother when. She had only been able to resist him four days before they had fucked and now she was living with her in her tiny apartment. How long would this bliss continue she mused before like her other relationships it dried up and blew away.

Having pushed away from his hand on her breast, she now grabbed his hand and pulled back close to him giggling as she did. The giggle was to ease her tension about the slave question. “So you really want me to be your slave?”

He touched her hair and kissed her face making her feel so loved. “More than anything, Mon ami, it would be perfect and I would make it perfect for you.”

This Misty did not understand. How could things be perfect for the slave? “How would you do that? Isn’t it all about the dominant enjoying it?”

“No, no, you misunderstand. It should be good for both of us. As your Master it is my job to see that you are thrilled by the things I have you do. You will have to tell all your sexual fantasies so I can make them come true. I promise you right now your submission to me will be bliss.” He held her close as the people moved around them.

This was a revelation to Misty for she had thought that bondage and D/s play was mostly about pleasing men and the female submissives indulged their Masters. However she had one other question come to her right away. “What would happen if I were bad?” As soon as the question left her pink frosted lips Misty wondered why she had asked it.

“You would be punished, Mon ami, a slave must obey her Master.” His dark eyes twinkled as he looked down at her and then she caught her breath because she knew why she’d asked the question. The very thought of him punishing her made her insane with desire.

In high school, Misty had discovered she had a thing for punishment in a most shocking and unusual way. She was simply a train wreck in History and the teacher, Mr. Davis had become frustrated with her failing grades and had asked her to stay after school for extra help on day. Well the extra help had come in the form of Mr. Davis taking her over his knee and baring her panties for a bum reddening spanking. At first she’d been shocked and she was well aware she could get him in deep trouble as he apologized after the spanking, but what she hadn’t counted on was her arousal. As he apologized all she could think of was would he do it again, or could she get her boyfriend at the time to do it. Neither had happened, but she had kept Mr. Davis’ secret and because of it she knew what would happen if Marcel’s hand punished her soft bottom.

“Yo . . . you would spank me?” She pushed the words out in hopes his answer would be yes.

“Yes, and perhaps more if you are truly naughty.”

What did that mean? Was he talking about crops, whips, and that whippy stick thing she had seen used? “There would be limits though, right. You wouldn’t go too far.” She felt somewhat self conscious even asking Marcel this as he had always been gentle and loving with her.

Marcel ran his hand through her hair and he began to walk taking her with him. “It will be nothing but what you desire, Misty. Your submissive fantasies brought to life.”

It was all more amazing than she could imagine. Was this gift from heaven boyfriend going to make her kinky sexual fantasies come true, or was it all too good to be true? She would take some time and think about it a little more, but she got a strong impulse to ask him to do something dominant to her right now with all these people milling about. She looked up at him. “Could you do something right now, Marcel?”

“Not unless you can call me Master.” He was already doing it knowing she would be thrill to call her Master.

Misty saw a nearby bench and steered them to it. She sat, but clenched his arm so he would stay standing in front of her. With his body in front of her, she opened her legs while sitting on the Newbury Street bench stretching her skirt to the maximum degree and feeling the soft spring breeze on her damp panties. Now she looked up at him and said the words. “I open myself to you, Master. Do as you will.” A pulse of naked arousal surged through her. Yes, I do want to be his slave.

With the Newbury Street tourists and shoppers seemingly unaware as they dipped in and out of storefronts and bistros, Marcel sat down beside her. Misty instinctively closed her legs somewhat, but he stopped her by placing his fingers on her inner thigh, just under her mid-thigh denim skirt. He leaned in and whispered to her. “Don’t be afraid, Master will touch you.” Stealthily he slipped his hand up the inches of her inner thighs until he found her pubis. In the process her skirt was pushed up a bit, but when he touched her panties right where he knew her clit was she didn’t care what she was exposing.

Yet his hand was gone in an instant making her almost mew to have it back. She arranged her skirt and closed her legs pulsing with the feel of being an object, a slave for his pleasure. As she turned to him, she caught a blonde girl sitting on a bench opposite her and quite obviously watching them. She was beautiful, the kind of girl Misty could see Marcel with, but she smiled and nodded at Misty like she approved of her sexual play.

“More please, Master.” Misty’s words were breathy as she was yearning for his intimate touch again.

Marcel brought her closer to shelter them and then he unbuttoned the bottom two buttons of her green silk blouse. With this done, he snaked his hand up her belly to her black gel bra and easily popped her right breast out of its cup.

Now Misty’s breath came in slow gulps as Marcel audaciously rolled her nipple between his fingers. He did not squeeze it or try to bring pain, he just rolled it to stiffness so much she wanted him to rip her blouse off right there and knead her breasts in public. “Is this good, slave, could you do more of this?”

She was so aroused it was hard to form words, but she did her best. “Yesss, it’s good, Master.” Misty could no longer deny she wanted to do this with him as the evidence her nipple and her pussy had provided was undeniable. Letting her head sink into his chest, she smelled his cologne, sighed, and let loose the words she could not keep inside. “Master, I want to be your slave.”

Jennifer Campbell lives in a modern log cabin, nestles under the fir and spruce that cover the mountain her ancestors settled under. She lives with her Master, Jack, who she serves in an eight year M/s relationship. Not wishing to live free or die, as the state’s motto suggests, she continues her pure submission. Jennifer would love to hear from other submissives, especially those who are touched by her writings about female slavery. Never wanting to forget who and what she is, Jennifer will sometimes write when she is wearing her collar, or her nipple chain.

Jennifer maintains a My Space page and blog. You can also visit her web site or email her at

Saturday, May 29, 2010

One Life to Live by Annie Nicholas

I checked my teeth in the mirror to make sure a piece of dinner didn’t hide between them then grabbed the mouthwash. The cap fumbled from my trembling fingers and clattered into the sink.

“All is well, ma cher?” The sound of his sultry, accented voice through the closed bathroom door sent my heart into a fit of flutters.

“Yes, I’ll be right out.” I swished and spat then did a quick breath check. Garlic bread with my meal? What a stupid choice. Taking a deep breath, I stared into my own reflected gaze. You can do this. A lot of women ask a guy over on the first date. I swallowed. You can do this?

Of course I could.

I straightened my cowardly spine. In the next room sat the sexiest man who’d ever crossed my path. He asked me out, not the other way around. When he returned to Paris tomorrow did I want to regret being—so—me?

No regrets. I had only one life to live and he’d be the first step on my new journey.

I removed my blouse and folded it in half then stopped to stare at the silky material in my hands. With a sigh, I crumpled and threw it onto the floor. My skirt followed.

Tracing the delicate white lace of my bra, I smiled a little at my reflection then pulled the pins out of my long black hair and let it flow over my shoulders.

Before I lost my courage, I opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the living room.

Jacque stood next to a side table examining some of the framed pictures I kept. He set the one in his hand back on the wooden surface. Heat blazed in his dark gaze as he trailed it along my curves and back up again. His thin, black tie hung loose.

A token bottle of liquor sat on the bar next to me, I couldn’t even recall what it was. I grabbed the two glasses by the bottle. “Drink?”

He strode across the room in long, slow strides and took the tumblers from my hands. “Non.” Placing them back on the bar, he turned his intense stare back to me.

I tried to remember how to breathe. “Music, I-I’ll turn on some music.”

He blocked my path. “Non.” Then he stepped closer until my back hit the walk. Leaning forward until his lips almost brushed mine, he waited.

“I can dim the lights.” My whispered words so soft I barely heard them.


His warm breathe brushed my lips and sent a shiver along my arms as goose flesh pocked my skin. Pushing against the lacy bra, my nipples hardened but he still hadn’t closed the gap to kiss me.

Impatient for his touch, craving his hands on my flesh, and needing to taste him, I closed it for him. I pressed my lips to his and ran my fingers through his thick chestnut colored hair so I could pull him to me.

A ferial growl rumbled in his chest as his controlled exterior crumbled and the passionate man inside emerged. He pressed me to the wall with his firm body while his hands slid over my sensitized skin.

I needed to come up for air but he wouldn’t let me. His mouth consumed mine and my breaths came in gasps. With sure, confident strokes of his tongue, he explored my mouth and encouraged me with softly spoken words.

“Oui, ma cher” were the first words he murmured as I yanked his shirt from his waistband and ran my hands over the muscles of his broad back. He wrestled his jacket off.

With over anxious fingers, I fumble at his pants.

“Oh oui! Ma puce” was the second urging.

The buckle may as well have been a chastity belt, I was ready to use my teeth. “Did you glue this on?”

Chuckling, he slid his fingers on top of mine and popped a clasp to release it. Together we unzipped his pants then he guided my hand into them. “Please, oui?” was the last encouragement I needed.

This man wasn’t walking out my apartment until I was good and fulfilled. I stroked the hard length of his cock and watched his eyes flutter. The soft skin reminded me of velvet.

Lips parted slightly, he thrust his hips in time to my caress. His gaze captured mine as he unclasped my bra. “You are too dressed.”

It slipped from my shoulders and I needed to release him to let it fall.

In a flurry of cotton, buttons, and silk Jacque undressed. My imagination didn’t do him justice. Lean, firm muscles defined his chest and abs. His long fingers grasped the front of my panties so he could peek inside.

This small action turned me on more than anything he’d done so far. Wetness developed between my legs. I needed to feel that full, hard cock pound inside me.

He reached his hand in, slid his fingers between my folds, and rubbed against my clit. “You are ready for me.”

I inched my panties down my thighs as he watched and teased my nub. A little moan escaped my lips as he pressed harder. Stepping out of them, I spread my thighs.

With his strong hands he cupped my ass and lifted me to his hips.

The unexpected ride gave me a start. “The bedroom is right there.” I pointed to a closed door.

“We’ll end up there…eventually…but we start here.”

A squad of cheerleaders sounded off in my head. Oh, I was so not going to regret tonight.

He eased his cock into my moist pussy with a slow, easy rhythm until I took all of him. I’d never been fucked against a wall before and the angle made everything feel all right.

The pace quickened. Each thrust ran along my clit and left me panting for more. My cries filled the apartment. He pushed in, and in, and in. Faster, harder he demanded more and more of me.

Sweat trickled down his back and made it slick to my touch. I held on with ankles crossed and rode the length of his shaft until he grunted like a wild beast. Lights exploded in my head while climaxed. Screaming and praying,I would have pinned him to the wall if I’d had the strength.

My eloquent Frenchmen lost the power to speak as he cried out, spilling his seed into me.

His knees gave out and I landed in his lap. He brushed the hair from my face. “I think…” he tried to catch his breath. “I think I will miss my flight tomorrow.”

About the author: Annie Nicholas hibernates in the rural, green mountains of Vermont where she dreams of different worlds, heroes, and heroines. When spring arrives the stories pour from her, in hopes to share them with the masses one day. Mother, daughter, wife are some of the hats she happily wears while trudging after her cubs through the hills and dales. The four seasons an inspiration and muse.

Author Interview: Sierra Dafoe

Whipped Cream is pleased to welcome Sierra Dafoe, award winning author.

The first book Sierra remembers writing was in second grade; it was called "Tommy the Turtle" and she drew little illustrations across the top of each page.

"That was when I discovered the joys of creating a whole new story, a story that excited me the same way the books I read did --although I daresay the books were better-written," she said with a laugh. "I’ve written ever since, stories, screenplays, even a couple of attempts at stage plays, poems, newspaper articles… But I always came back to stories. To books. As fun as everything else can be to write, books were and are and always will be my first love."

"How do you personally distinguish between erotica, erotic romance, and pornography?" I wondered.

"Oh, good question! Okay, the word pornography derives from the word pornai (or it might be pornae) which means prostitute in Greek. And not just any kind of prostitute, but the lowest, cheapest, twenty-buck an hour type prostitute. So pornography is, pretty much by definition, degrading, in my opinion. It’s the portrayal of women (and men) as prostitutes, as whores -- which I think a quick glance through Hustler pretty well supports.

"Erotica, on the other hand, is a depiction of human sexuality, in all its splendid variations. It might be celebratory, it might be degrading -- but it’s not by definition degrading, unlike pornography. Erotica has room to explore sexuality on all kinds of levels, which is one of the reasons it’s so hard to codify -- that old 'One woman’s erotica is another woman’s pornography' thing.

"But erotic romance is something else again. The key word here is romance. Erotic romance is a sub-genre of romance, and therefore ideally it has to live up to all the expectations of the romance genre -- the emotional push-and-pull between the protagonists, the happy ending -- plus the erotic content. That’s really what erotic romance is to me -- it’s romance plus. "

For Sierra, one of the main dividing lines between porn and erotic romance focuses on respect.

"Even in a committed dom-sub relationship, if it’s healthy, there is a great deal of mutual love and respect between the partners. In that context, submission becomes an act of love, of service -- as does domination. Both partners are fulfilling the other person’s needs, rather than their own -- and how much more loving can a relationship get than that?" Sierra asks with a smile. "Joey Hill’s Natural Law series is an excellent example of that, and it’s something I explored a lot in my own Devarian series, a futuristic story set in a world where men are slaves and women are the rulers. It was a lot of fun, exploring that power dynamic with reversed sex roles."

Sierra feels the biggest public misconception about erotica is that it's easy to write well.

Some authors who have really stood out for Sierra as writing excellent erotic fiction, and putting the lie to that misconception, include Joey Hill, Lora Leigh, Kate Douglas, Anya Bast, Angela Knight and Nalini Singh.

"Nalini Singh's not really erotic," Sierra told me, "just very, very spicy. I completely devoured her Psy-Changeling series. Red Garnier is another very hot author whose writing I love (full disclosure -- she’s also one of my critique partners, which means I usually get to read her stuff before anybody!)"

"How do you judge what makes a good erotic story when writing your own fiction?" I asked.

"Well, I know there are authors who disagree with this, but to me, you should be able to take the erotic content out and still have a compelling story. I guess what I’m saying is, if you’re relying on the erotic content alone to carry the story, you’re only doing half your job as a writer. In my own writing, I strive to create a plot and characters that I care about, that hold my interest, even without the added heat of the erotic scenes. And I’ve yet to have a complaint that my books aren’t hot enough as a consequence!

"At the same time, in an erotic romance where the emphasis is on erotic, ideally the sexual component should be an integral part of the plot -- part of what drives the motion (as well as the emotion) of the story. And to me, something beyond simply lovemaking should be going on in those scenes no matter what, whether it’s a plot twist, a new revelation, or simply developing the characters further.

"Writing erotica is in many ways exactly like writing any other type of story. To be compelling, it needs to have interesting, well-developed characters who fascinate me, a strong story line, good pacing."

Sierra told me that if an author wants to write erotica, the first thing they need to do is learn to write-- that erotic writing is not some separate subset of writing where none of the rules apply—there are no shortcuts.

Over the past three years, erotic romance stories have seem to been the kinds of stories that have been occurring to Sierra, even though she writes everything.

"I guess you can say I'm writing the horse in the direction it's going," she said.

On more of a personal note, I asked Sierra, "If you could be anyone you wanted, who would it be?"

"Barbie," she said promptly. "Like the bumper sticker says, she has everything! Okay, I'm not serious—I couldn't deal with that much pink. I’d love to have been Katharine Hepburn for a day! What an intelligent, complicated woman. "

Sierra already has her ears pierced and she likes earrings.

"I like sparklies in general," she admitted.

If she had to pierce another body part, she said, "I’d probably pierce my belly button to have another place to wear something sparkly and shiny -- but then I’d have to start doing sit-ups so I’d feel comfortable about showing my belly-sparklies off in public!"

She thinks M&Ms are best for eating off another's tummy—"The plain ones, not the peanut," she specified. "Who wants to have peanut breath when they’re kissing? Plus, they’re small and they kinda tickle, and you really have to use your tongue to pick them up… And, of course, they’re chocolate," she added with a smile.

"What is your favorite food?" I wondered.

"Oh man -- that’s like asking me to pick my favorite hunk! There’s so many… But if I could only live on one thing (okay, two things) for the rest of my life, it’d be chocolate cake with vanilla icing and a big glass of milk. Not exactly the healthiest diet, but my inner child would be very happy."

However, she recently tried a kind of stewed seaweed recently.

"It was salty and slimy, and I am never going there again!" she declared. "Yuck!"

She can also tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi, and especially between Diet Coke and Diet Pepsi.

"I swear, most people are more wedded to their brand of diet soda than they are to politics or religion!" she said.

She's also known two people who can tie a cherry stem with their tongue.

"A father and daughter," she explained, "which makes me think the skill is genetic—and therefore means I don't have to feel bad because I can't!"

Finally I asked, "If you could give a new writer one piece of advice, what would it be?"

"Write a lot. Seriously, that’s it. I see a lot of newer writers crank out four, five, ten stories, and think they’re ready. Well, some of them are, likely -- but it’s even more likely that most of them aren’t. You know things after writing ten stories that you didn’t know after your second. You know things about story-telling after a hundred stories that you’d never have learned otherwise. Seriously, just keep putting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, and don’t be discouraged if your tenth story gets rejected. Writing’s a learning process like anything else, and it’s a lot harder than driving a car!"

You can keep up with Sierra on her website,

Friday, May 28, 2010

Friday Spotlight: Gail Koger



Gail Koger

Stealing from a warlord and giving him the one finger salute as I made my getaway was not the brightest thing I’d ever done. Okay, it was an incredibly stupid stunt.

Did I mention that this particular Coletti warlord is the most feared in the entire galaxy? That Zarek’s the ultimate predator and even the other warlords are scared spitless of him? That he never ever stops until he either captures or kills his prey?

Yeah, I have the big, bad after me and all because of one little finger. Okay and a Ditrim crystal the size of my fist. Am I worried? Of course, only an idiot doesn’t fear a very angry Coletti warlord. But, I am very good at what I do. Bad news is, so is Zarek.

My name is Detja. The Enforcers call me the Ghost. As a master thief I must be a combination of magician and chameleon. The illusion of magic deflects attention away from the act and when things go to hell, like they sometimes do; the ability to blend into any situation or culture is a must.

My looks are my biggest illusion. I’m a Farin, the fragile flowers of the universe. No one in a million years would ever expect me to be an extraordinary thief or powerful psychic. Everyone takes one look at my delicate frame and exotic features and dismisses me as harmless. Really big mistake on their part. I’ll admit that most Farin females are timid creatures devoted to domestic duties and incapable of doing harm to anyone. Me? I’m an anomaly, a genetic throwback to a time long, long ago when Farin females were warriors.

BIO: I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for thirty-one years and to keep insanity at bay, I took up writing. Not to worry. The insanity isn’t catching – much. Other than the addiction to chocolate and the twitch in my left eye, I’m good. I’ve had my weird but true stories published in newspapers and magazines. My first book was The Ghost Wore Polyester, a murder mystery/comedy set in Sedona, Arizona. Just My Luck, a science fiction romance, was reviewed by Chris at Night Owl Romance and received four out of five hearts. Lisa at Joyfully Reviewed called it an incredibly fun read. My third book is The Warlord’s Comeuppance, which will be released by Whispers Publishing on July 9th. I’ve also worked with producer, Bonnie Forbes of Fortress Features on several reality TV series.


Thursday, May 27, 2010

Thursday Spotlight: Gail Koger



Gail Koger

How did all this start? Them. It started with them. In 2015 something nasty found our world. They call themselves the Tai-Kok. I still remember that first psychic contact. Their hunger slapped me in the face. It was sharp, visceral and constant. They were malevolent, depraved ghouls who lived to eat. Literally. And their image is forever burned into my mind. Tall, hairless, skeletal humanoids with a mouth full of sharp metal teeth. And to complete the total gross out, three blood-red eyes glared out of skin so transparent you could see their bones and innards. Ewww.

How they found our world or why they consider us good eatin’, who knows. It was my job to stop them. My name is Kaylee Jones. I’m a cop and a Siren. You can consider me the early warning system that keeps Earth from becoming an all-you-can-eat banquet.

The bad thing is, I’m also what you’d call a trouble magnet. Just ask my brothers. Chaos and disaster dog me where ever I go. Sometimes it sucks being me. My psychic abilities are the only reason I’m still breathing.

How did I meet the vampire aka the big bad Coletti Warlord?

Part of my job description as a Siren was mentally scanning our galaxy for any signs of the Tai-Kok. I was searching the asteroid belt for their ships when I sensed an alien presence. It was male. Definitely not human. His utter aloneness. His grief for those taken from him and his burning need for vengeance resonated so deeply within me that I instinctively reached out. Big mistake. He latched on and dug in tighter than a tick on a hunting dog. No matter how hard I tried to dislodge the little shit from my mind, he wouldn’t leave. And just my luck, his hold on me kept getting stronger. For awhile my uninvited guest seemed to be content to just observe. That and growl whenever another man got near me. I mean, c’mon. It was like having a rabid pitbull stuck in your head.

What did Talree, the Warlord, want? Me. How romantic, you think? Not! The rat bastard needed blood and it seemed only mine would do. Lucky me. And to make matters worse, he decided to make me his mate. Big honor, he said. Didn’t matter that I wasn’t willing and this mate thing meant he owned me mind, body and soul. Ever tried telling a Coletti Warlord no? Doesn’t go over very well. Unless you’re armed to the teeth and even then, it’s pretty iffy. They’re damned good at mind control and add in their ability to teleport and you’re toast.

Okay, I’ll admit that the sex is hot. Really hot. Melt your panties hot. Gotta admit the first time I saw his dick it was freaky and kinda weird. So weird that I almost forgot the cardinal rule. Never ever make fun of a guy’s penis. But it gets the job done. If you know what I mean. Really really gets the job done. If you’re in to the multiple orgasm thing. Doesn’t hurt either, that Talree is a hunk. Body of a pro wrestler and a face that could grace the cover of GQ Magazine.

And the bossy jerk did agree to save our world from annihilation. But, the bad news was, Warlords aren’t benevolent do-gooder types and there was a price for them helping us. Our women.

That’s when I discovered the Coletti’s dirty little secret. Chemicals used in their Great War created a genetic anomaly and their women are going the way of the Dodo Bird. To save their race from extinction they must convert females of other species. Lucky us. Okay, I’ll live a very long time, heal quickly and can do neat stuff like teleporting and mind control but... Fangs! C’mon. Makes you want to bite something.

A neck or an arm or...

And don’t get me started on my father-in-law Zarek, the Overlord of the Coletti clans. One scary dude that makes Darth Vader look like Little Orphan Annie. Did I ever mention, that I’ve got a big mouth and don’t take orders well? Yeah, kinda suicidal when dealing with Warlords. The mate bond with Talree and my abilities as a Siren are the only things keeping Zarek from mind-wiping me. For now.

And the really bad news was, Talree’s low-down conniving brother, Malik, had joined forces with our alien freaks and now we have to stop them from destroying the galaxy. For better or worse, our fates are intertwined. To survive what is to come, I have to embrace my destiny. Become something not quite human. Sometimes to protect and serve was a real bitch. But on the bright side, I can use that power to change the system. Introduce a little truth, justice and the American way. If we fail, not only would Earth be destroyed, but countless other worlds would fall, too. So not happening on my watch.

BIO: I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for thirty-one years and to keep insanity at bay, I took up writing. Not to worry. The insanity isn’t catching – much. Other than the addiction to chocolate and the twitch in my left eye, I’m good. I’ve had my weird but true stories published in newspapers and magazines. My first book was The Ghost Wore Polyester, a murder mystery/comedy set in Sedona, Arizona. Just My Luck, a science fiction romance, was reviewed by Chris at Night Owl Romance and received four out of five hearts. Lisa at Joyfully Reviewed called it an incredibly fun read. My third book is The Warlord’s Comeuppance, which will be released by Whispers Publishing on July 9th. I’ve also worked with producer, Bonnie Forbes of Fortress Features on several reality TV series.


Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Wednesday Spotlight: Gail Koger

Reflections Of A Demented Dispatcher


Gail Koger

Thirty-one years of wild requests, screwy questions, bizarre behavior and outrageous demands have left me with a permanent twitch and an uncontrollable craving for chocolate. Don’t get me wrong. Working as a 9-1-1 dispatcher can be very rewarding. BUT - some days I felt like the whole world was nuts. I mean, c’mon who in their right mind calls 9-1-1 for the winning lottery numbers? Huh? On a normal day my calls ranged from this winner:

A hysterical woman yelled,"My bird is in a tree!" Sometimes I really can’t help myself, so I said, "Birds have a tendency to do that, ma’am." The woman screeched, "No! You don’t understand. My pet parakeet is in the tree. I’ve just got to get him down." Like I said, not a clue. "I’m sorry ma’am, but we don’t get birds out of trees." The woman then cried, "But... But...what about my husband? He’s up there, too!" Okey-dokey. One rescue unit coming up.

To this champion: A man whispered, "Who won the Tommy Hearn fight?" I whispered back, "Sorry, don’t know." "You don’t! I thought the police were supposed to know everything," the caller exclaimed in disgust and hung up. Wonder where he got that idea?

My grin died a sudden death as an officer shouted for backup at a local fast food restaurant. An instant later he hit his officer’s alert button and yelled, "Step it up!" Okay, this was so not good. No one hurts my guys. I quickly relayed his location to other officers and started a supervisor. The officer keyed his radio again and shouted, "White male..." His radio stuck in the transmit position, the sounds of fists hitting flesh and the grunts of a no-holds-barred fight rang in my earpiece. And then to my utter disbelief in the background I heard, "Welcome to Jack-In-The-Box. May I take your order?" I wanted to yell no, my officer is getting the crap kicked out of him in the drive-thru lane but this guy was persistent, "Wanna try our new chicken fingers?" Finally after what seemed to be an eternity, I heard the wonderful sound of sirens. And the relentless Mr. Jack-In-The Box tried again, "How about one of our special combo meals?" Later my bruised and battered sweetheart of an officer brought all of us a bunch of chicken fingers. Courtesy of Jack-In-The-Box, of course. The job does have its perks.

One of which is indigestion and heartbreak. Melody, a fellow dispatcher, answered a 9-1-1 line and heard a woman shout, "My ex-husband is banging on my door and I have a restraining order against him." The crash of breaking glass was followed quickly by the woman screaming blue bloody murder. Shots rang out and the woman’s screams were abruptly replaced by children’s sobbing. The woman’s six year old daughter picked up the phone. "My mom said that if anything happened, I could call 9-1-1. Can you please hurry? I’m really scared." A dispatcher can’t allow her rage and grief to affect her job. That kid needs help and it’s up to you to get it for her. So, you stuff all those feelings deep down inside you and do your job.

And Melody, a true professional, sucked it up and did a terrific job. Her voice was calm, soothing, "What happened to your mom?" The child cried, "A mean man broke all the glass and shooted a gun. My mom fell down. I don’t know where I live, can you find me?" Melody quickly typed in the information. "Sure I can. I’ve got police officers coming to help you. Who else is in the house with you, honey?" The little girl sobbed, "My brother and sister. She’s a baby. My mom got blood on her and she won’t wake up." Melody’s fingers flew over the keyboard, "Okay, are any of you hurt?" The child answered, "No. Are the people coming really nice?" Melody reassured her, "Yes, honey, the police officers are very nice. They are gonna come and help you out, okay?"

A professional 9-1-1 dispatcher must be able to deal with rapidly changing situations and maintain her calm at all times. And some days that can be pretty darn hard. I was reaching for my stash of chocolate when my next call came in. Her voice low and worried, a woman announced, "There’s a strange woman in my bathroom taking a bubble bath." A bubble bath? Are you kidding me? "You have no idea who she is, ma’am?" The woman said, "No. I really had to pee and when I opened the bathroom door this bitch yelled, ‘Close the damned door. I’m taking a bath here!’ So, I grabbed her clothes and called 9-1-1." Our well-scrubbed burglar got whisked to jail. Some days catching the bad guys is too easy. Some days eating a handful of Tylenol is easy, too.

My headache kicked up a notch when a belligerent man called and said, "I want to report my four year old son missing." "Ok sir, how long has he been missing?" The man snapped, "Four years." I have to admit, I was a bit curious. "Is there a reason you haven’t called before now?" There was a slight hesitation, then he replied, "I’m starting to get concerned, ok?" Wow, four years and now he’s concerned? "Where was the last place you saw him?" "Panama," he hissed. "Panama," I parroted incredulously. "Have you made a report with the officials in Panama?" His hostility increased, "No." "I’m sorry sir, but we can’t take a missing person report for someone in Panama." He snarled, "Let me talk to someone who knows what they’re doing, because you obviously don’t."

Some citizens of our fair cities have absolutely no idea of what an officer can or cannot do. They aren’t plumbers, electricians, alligator wrestlers (don’t ask) or allowed to shoot down low flying aircraft. We have to educate them. I know. I know. It’s an unending task. But we can do it. No! Wait! Tearing out your hair leaves those funny bald spots. We. Can. Do. It. Really. Would I lie to you?

A career as a 9-1-1 dispatcher is demanding, exasperating, satisfying and fun. Yeah, fun. Catching a burglar or bank robber rocks. A short happy dance is permitted. You’ve made a difference. Made the world a safer place for a short time. We don’t always win but when we do, there’s nothing like it. Chocolate anyone?

BIO: I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for thirty-one years and to keep insanity at bay, I took up writing. Not to worry. The insanity isn’t catching – much. Other than the addiction to chocolate and the twitch in my left eye, I’m good. I’ve had my weird but true stories published in newspapers and magazines. My first book was The Ghost Wore Polyester, a murder mystery/comedy set in Sedona, Arizona. Just My Luck, a science fiction romance, was reviewed by Chris at Night Owl Romance and received four out of five hearts. Lisa at Joyfully Reviewed called it an incredibly fun read. My third book is The Warlord’s Comeuppance, which will be released by Whispers Publishing on July 9th. I’ve also worked with producer, Bonnie Forbes of Fortress Features on several reality TV series.


Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Tuesday Spotlight: Gail Koger



Gail Koger

The cougar is a concealment and ambush hunter. A good cougar stalks their prey and then circles in for the kill. Okay, ladies, kill is a metaphor. For us lazy hunters, the ambush method of hunting uses less energy and has a greater chance of success.

The best place for hunting our prey is senior centers and retirement communities. Yes, you heard me right. Senior centers. The men are old, hearing impaired and can’t run very fast. C’mon, even I can outrun them while they’re dragging along their oxygen tanks. I know. I know. Cougar’s prey are supposed to be young bucks. Too much work, girls. Old geezers are much easier to handle.

Men are horny. Old men are even hornier. Suck it up, ladies, and ignore the yellowing, mottled skin, scrawny bodies and talon like toenails. We cougars are not faint of heart. No, we are hunters. Hear us roar. So just trowel on the makeup. Old, remember? Can’t see very well? A good underwire bra combined with a sexy low cut blouse and bada-bing, bada-boom, your prey is hooked. You reel him in and net yourself a trip to Hawaii or an Alaskan cruise. And for God’s sake, don’t forget the Viagra and ear plugs. Yes, ladies, I said ear plugs. That Darth Vader like wheezing does tend to get on your nerves.

Another great location for hunting is pool side at the community centers. First you look for the gentleman with the dead critter perched on his head. That hair piece shows he’s vain and on the prowl. Next you check to see if he’s wearing enough gold chains to sink a battle ship. Remember, gold equals money. Money equals the perfect prey. Okay, sometimes not so perfect. His itty-bitty Speedo leaves nothing to the imagination and exposes his shortcoming to the entire world. But not to worry, a little Viagra will fix that problem. Unfortunately, the little blue pill won’t fix his sagging, wrinkled paunch or the fact that his body hair would rival a gorilla’s. But, downing a couple of Vicodins or a dozen Martinis will solve this problem. Remember, a successful hunter travels the world, first class. A bad hunter gets a quick trip to Vegas and the all-you-can-eat buffet.

BIO: I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for thirty-one years and to keep insanity at bay, I took up writing. Not to worry. The insanity isn’t catching – much. Other than the addiction to chocolate and the twitch in my left eye, I’m good. I’ve had my weird but true stories published in newspapers and magazines. My first book was The Ghost Wore Polyester, a murder mystery/comedy set in Sedona, Arizona. Just My Luck, a science fiction romance, was reviewed by Chris at Night Owl Romance and received four out of five hearts. Lisa at Joyfully Reviewed called it an incredibly fun read. My third book is The Warlord’s Comeuppance, which will be released by Whispers Publishing on July 9th. I’ve also worked with producer, Bonnie Forbes of Fortress Features on several reality TV series.


Monday, May 24, 2010

Monday Spotlight: Gail Koger

The Joys of Menopause


Gail Koger

Menopause is the transition period in a woman’s life when her ovaries go on strike and all hell breaks loose. We become a human roller coaster. One minute we’re fine; the next we’re Attila the Hun in a dress.

Here are the fun things you get to look forward to:

#1 - Hair starts growing in places you really rather it didn’t and you suddenly look like Groucho Marx. If that wasn’t bad enough, you realize you’re getting a little thin on top. Okay, you can give your husband a run for his money. Buying several wigs will take care of that little problem until the hot flashes hit.

#2 - With one look you can send grown men running for their lives. Okay, the knife clenched in your fist doesn’t hurt either.

#3 – Deprived of chocolate you have the ability to take down an armed felon without breaking a sweat or a nail. Hey, who needs the S.W.A.T. team?

#4 – You don’t need a sauna, you are one. Those wonderful sweat stains and sodden hair are so very becoming.

#5 – Chocolate is the only thing standing between you and a life behind bars.

#6 – Your sex drive sputters to a complete and utter stop. If a lap dance from a hot Chippendale dancer doesn’t get you excited, your husband’s in for a long dry spell.

I tried everything from Black Cohosh to soy to Evening Primrose Oil and finally settled on Prempo to keep my homicidal tendencies under control. The good news is, the police no longer do hourly drive-bys on my house, my hot flashes are gone and my sex drive is back. Now where did I put my little black negligee?

BIO: I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for thirty-one years and to keep insanity at bay, I took up writing. Not to worry. The insanity isn’t catching – much. Other than the addiction to chocolate and the twitch in my left eye, I’m good. I’ve had my weird but true stories published in newspapers and magazines. My first book was The Ghost Wore Polyester, a murder mystery/comedy set in Sedona, Arizona. Just My Luck, a science fiction romance, was reviewed by Chris at Night Owl Romance and received four out of five hearts. Lisa at Joyfully Reviewed called it an incredibly fun read. My third book is The Warlord’s Comeuppance, which will be released by Whispers Publishing on July 9th. I’ve also worked with producer, Bonnie Forbes of Fortress Features on several reality TV series.


Saturday, May 22, 2010

Ven Conmigo by Elyzabeth VaLey

Samantha raised her hand and waited for the teacher to approach her. Gods he was handsome: at least six feet tall, he was broad at the shoulders and the t-shirt he was wearing was tight against his chest. His long blond hair hung behind in a messy ponytail, wisps of it framing his masculine face and highlighting his dark blue eyes.

“Class dismissed,” James called.

He noticed Samantha’s raised hand and nodded to her. He swallowed hard, trying to calm down his nerves and his libido. It was incredible what one look at that girl could do to him. He was 28 years old and he had never felt so attracted to any woman, but there was something about Sammy. Maybe it was those long pigtail braids she liked wearing, or those large brown puppy eyes; perhaps, it was those luscious red lips, or those feminine curves.

“What is it, Sammy?”

Samantha smiled. She mentally reprimanded herself for staring at her teacher. She was 25. She should be over that sort of teenage behavior.

“I think the book is wrong,” she stated. She began pointing out the errors and James nodded absent-mindedly. He could not care less about some stupid grammar book and its mistakes. Sammy’s cleavage was distracting him.

“What do you think?”

James turned to look at her. He took in a dizzying breath. She smelled like candy.

“Ven conmigo,” he said in Spanish.

“What?” Sammy asked bewildered.

“Come with me,” James repeated in English, as he went back to his desk and began to collect his books.

Samantha stared after him; her body shook at having him so near.

James walked in front of Samantha. He heard her heels clicking on the cold marble floor, and his thoughts strayed from her feet to her well-shaped legs. He opened the door to his small office and invited Samantha inside. He tried hard not to stare after her full round bottom. He entered behind her and closed the door. All coherent thoughts fled from James’ mind as he looked at her. Samantha stood next to his desk, her books hugged tightly to her chest, her eyes wide, her lips slightly open: a perfect portrayal of innocence.

Samantha quivered. She reddened slightly as she recalled more than one masturbating session with James as her object of desire. Embarrassed at her erotic thoughts, she shifted her weight, licked her lips and waited for James to say something.

James saw the pink tip of her tongue graze her lips and he was unable to hold back. Gently, he tucked her books away from her and deposited them on the desk with his. He found her eyes and heard her gasp as he bent his head to capture her mouth with his.

Surprised, Samantha couldn’t help gasping when she looked into James’s eyes and saw in them the same desire she felt coursing through her body.

James placed his hands around Sammy’s waist and pulled her to him. He heard her sharp intake of breath when she felt his hardened cock press against her. He pushed his tongue inside her mouth and his heart beat heavily against his chest as she responded to his kiss, letting her own tongue run free and begin a battle with his.

His hands raced from her waist to her shoulders, finally finding their way to her ample bosom. He placed a hand on her breast and was rewarded by a moan. Encouraged, he squeezed the fleshy mound before proceeding to open her blouse.

Samantha gasped again as James pulled her closer and she was pressed against the fullness of his stiff member. A rush of wetness reached her panties when he fondled her breasts. She wound her hands tighter around him, releasing his hair and running her fingers across the long silky strands. Her hands roamed down his back and she cupped his firm ass before introducing her hands inside his waistband.

James growled and nipped Sammy’s lower lip when he felt her soft hands caress his swollen cock. With a groan, he released her lips and pushed her breasts out of her bra. Without hesitancy, he lowered his head and took the tight nipple of her left breast into his mouth.

Samantha moaned. Her panties were soaked and yet she was not satiated. A pulsing feeling began at her core. She needed him. She needed James inside her.

“Please,” she managed to say.

James lifted his head from her breasts. His eyes were hazy with desire. Without a sound he claimed her lips again as his hands found their way beneath her skirt. Somehow, she ended up sitting on his desk, her legs splayed open as his fingers traced the outline of her wet mound.

She moaned into his mouth as he flexed his finger and lifted the edge of her panties. Involuntarily, she bucked against him, her body unconsciously searching for something to fill her.

James pushed two fingers into Samantha. He pulled them in and out of her a few times before she stopped him with her hand.

She shook her head. “I want you now, James.”

James smiled. Without missing a beat he pulled out his cock and pushed it into Sammy’s waiting cunt.

Samantha gasped. Her legs entwined around James as he pushed into her. Together they found release as they whispered sweet words of love to one another.

James kissed her neck, bringing her back to reality. Samantha looked at their entwined hands and smiled. James followed her gaze and chuckled.

“You realize that most of your students hate me?” she asked her husband.

James brought up her hand and kissed the finger that held their wedding band.

“I don’t think that’s possible, love.”

About the author: Usually shy and quiet, with either a book or notebook nearby, at first sight you might think that Elyzabeth is nothing more than a hard working student. However, at closer inspection, you might discover that behind her serene demeanor she might be concocting an elaborate fantasy of love and desire.

Author Interview - Lynne Roberts

Whipped Cream is pleased to welcome Lynne Roberts, author of First Date and After Hours, both from The Wilder Rose Press.

Lynne told me that the research for her books differs depending on which book it is.

"The internet has brought the world to your screen with the touch of a few keys and I do a lot of my research that way," she said. "But nothing beats the smells and sounds of the real world. Recently, I went to San Francisco where my WIP takes place and took notes like crazy."

Lynne started writing mainstream fantasy with very little sex involved and, in fact, still writes fantasy under her real name. However, a friend of hers wrote erotica and, when Lynne read some of her work, she was challenged to give erotica a try.

"I can honestly tell you, it was harder than I thought. Er, no pun intended," she told me. "Writing erotica was like exercising muscles I hadn’t used in a while. It was slow going and hurt a bit. It did get easier. There are many similarities but writing erotica presents its own challenges that are unique to its genre. Such as word choice and creating a clear sequence of events, while things are happening simultaneously, without become repetitious."

One thing that both mainstream and erotic romance or erotica have in common, for Lynne, is that they both have a story. And this is where erotica differs, in her mind, from porn.

"With porn, it’s only about the sex," she said. "The people don’t really matter. While erotic romance contains sex, it’s a romance. I would not write a book in which I did not feel something for the characters and work toward their HEA."

If an author wants to write erotica (or any other genre, for that matter), the best advice Lynne can give them is to read in that genre.

"Read… and then read some more and when you’re done, read another." She laughed. " Seriously, read the genre in which you write. This rule applies across the board."

"Does your family read your writing?" I wondered. "What do they think about it?"

"Most of my family does not read my work because it’s currently only available online as an e-book and none of them have e-readers or computers… yeah, they are a little behind the times."

Lynne said she's never been embarrassed by a sex scene she's written, however, she did admit, "I have written one that made me squirm in my seat and I had to take frequent breaks. One of the best compliments I ever received was: 'As soon as my husband read your book, he attacked me. (In a good way.)'" She laughed and added, "See, just doing my part toward marital harmony. "

"If you could entertain a character from a book, who would it be?" I asked.

"One of my books or any character?"

"Any character."

" Wow! That’s a good question. There are so many! Just one? I’ll cross off all the Black Dagger Brotherhood vampires because that might be a little scary and they’re all mated. Got it! Mohan from a book by SJ Thomas that is not yet published. (I know, that’s kind of cheating… just wait until it is—you’ll understand) What would the evening be like? Lots of witty banter, sexual innuendo and wine… curtain closes there, "she said with a wink.

On more of a personal note, Lynne pierced her belly button when she turned 35.

"I love it! I don’t go around showing my belly button off so it was just for me. Is it sexy? I think so," she said with a wink. "I think piercing is still just enough of a rebellious act that there is a bad boy/girl connotation to it that, let’s face it, is sexy. I mean metal is penetrating your skin, what else do you do?"

She considered almost anything creamy best for eating off another's tummy.

She laughed and then added, "Except maybe peanut butter. Other body parts? Honey or chocolate."

Her favorite food is turkey sandwiches.

"Yeah, sexy, huh?" she said with a laugh. "But I love them plain or with Swiss or cranberries or lettuce and tomato…"

However, she can't bring herself to eat sushi.

"I'm sorry…it's raw!" she said.

"Can you tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi?" I asked.

" Yes, I can. I conducted a taste test when I was little and picked Coke. I’ve drunk it ever since. I’m nothing if not loyal… of course between me and you, I really prefer root beer now."

Her favorite letter? "S. Hey, what can I say? It's curvy."

"What is your strangest habit?"

"All my habits are strange. Okay, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this. I have to open my garage door to make sure my car is in the garage before I lock the house up for the night. It’s not as OCD as it sounds. My kids were leaving the car door ajar and I was waking up to a dead battery. I started checking simply to make sure the car’s interior lights were off but now it’s a habit."

"When you are not writing, what can you usually be found doing?" I wondered.

" Not writing? What’s that? Editing most likely," she said, laughing. "Reading, playing with my kids. Homework (we have 2 hours of it every night) playing on Twitter, checking my email (I’m a compulsive email checker)."

And, finally, she loves painting her toenails…usually red, but she has been known to mix it up and paint them black once in a while.

You can keep up with Lynne on her blog,

Friday, May 21, 2010

Friday Spotlight: Desiree Holt

What Am I Working On Now and What’s Ahead For Me

May 23 is the release day for The Bargain, from Resplendence Publishing. It’s a lover story with a lot of twists. My favorite kind to both read and write.


Lara McKee‘s life came to a crashing halt the night her husband was killed in a carjacking and she lost their unborn child. Now she channels all her energy into her job as assistant to Cole Cassidy, sexy CEO of Alamo Construction. Cole’s own life is a mess. A shotgun marriage based on a lie and the fiery death of his wife on the highway have left him with a child to raise that’s a constant reminder of his first wife’s lies and deceit. Both of them have written marriage out of their future.

But Cole desperately needs someone to mother the child and take charge of his personal life. When he proposes a marriage of convenience to Lara, who still yearns for motherhood, she shocks herself by accepting. And so these two people, carrying a van load of emotional baggage, begin to build a life together under almost impossible circumstances. Conflict builds over the child, whom Lara falls in love with at once and Cole ignores.

Beneath the daily conflict, love unexpectedly begins to grow. But at the moment they dare to explore their feelings, anger over the child erupts and the night turns into a disaster that nearly destroys the marriage. Slowly, bit by bit, they begin to re build their relationship, carefully nurturing these new feelings. But it takes another near-tragedy before they can finally get past the hurdles to complete happiness and truly become a family.

So be sure to watch for it and check it out at

Now. As I mentioned earlier this week, I work on more than one story at a time. And I write under two names which doubles my pleasure—which certainly can add to the confusion.

Right now I’m immersed in five—count ‘em, five—series as well as a single title. Downstroke is the story of a country rock singer who made it to the top, and then some. But he did it by walking away from the life he was expected to live and leaving behind a shattered relationship. At the top of the ladder, abusing drugs and alcohol, he nearly kills himself in a one car wreck. It takes three years for him to put himself back together. Now, at forty-two, he’s back on top and someone is trying to kill him. Who gets hired to provide security? You guessed it. That gal he left behind.

Driven by Hunger, out soon, is a shifter story that is a sequel to Line of Sight and Hot Moon Rising. Book Four in The Sentinels: Animal Instinct, is coming out this month. And I am working away at Night Seekers and The Omega Team.

I like to write series I guess because I like to read them. I like following the paths the different characters take. You can keep up with my stories, current and future at the following sites:

Please come and visit me. I love to hear from my readers.

And thanks again to the lovely ladies of LASR for having me in the spotlight.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Thursday Spotlight: Desiree Holt

What’s My Day Like

First of all, I’m very fortunate to live in a beautiful place—the Texas Hill Country. Most of the area is ranches and a lot of them raise cutting horses. There are also hay farms, horse breeders, dog breeders, even an alpaca farm. My house sits in the middle of six gorgeous, wild acres, with every imaginable kind of wild life. And yes, at night I can hear the coyotes howl in the distance. The view through the windows where I work, either to my left or right, is so magnificent I have to kick myself not to just sit here and stare.

Anyway, back to my schedule. At least on the days I’m not out doing errands or research.

I share my house with three wonderful cats, five years old, that I adopted from the animal shelter. At seven in the morning they want their breakfast and they aren’t shy about waking me up to remind me of that fact. So first activity of the day is feeding them.

Next come the deer. This area is home to a large herd of white tail deer and a smaller herd of axis deer. Over the past ten years they know if they show up in my yard I’ll feed them. so I fill the feeding pail with corn and grain mix and make sure they get their breakfast.

I fix my first cup of coffee of the day from my wonderful Keurig machine. If you don’t have one, check it out. Pop in a K-Cup for coffee—many flavors—tea or hot chocolate, toss the cup and voila! A hot drink with no fuss. With coffee in hand I spend the next two hours answering email and doing promo work.

Finally, showered and dressed and ready for work, I begin the thing I love most—writing. I usually work on two or three manuscripts at a time, so I pull up the one I’m immersed in, reread what I wrote the day before and start banging away at the keyboard.

Often I take a break to search for visual aids on the Internet. Hunks, for instance. I can usually visualize what I want my hero to look like and I’ll search for a picture as close as I can get and print it out. Right now one of the books I’m working on is about a country rock singer in his forties, and the image that plastered itself in my mind was of Christopher Stone, the late actor who was married to Dee Wallace (ET’s mother!). So I found a great picture of him and now it’s taped to my computer desk.

In midafternoon I take a break and return phone calls. Three days a week I work out at the Y. On the other days I walk a mile with my iPod cranked up, singing along off key. Then it’s time to feed the cats again, then the deer, then myself. Then to bed to watch television, make notes on what I wrote that day, and indulge in recreational reading for myself.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Wednesday Spotlight:Desiree Holt

How Do I Do My Research

Now this is the part of my work I really enjoy talking about. Research sounds like such a boring word. It calls up images of the hushed atmosphere of libraries or of hours poring over very boring publications. But for me, research is really a treat.

First of all, my heroes are all alpha males in very alpha professions—the military, ex-military, protection services, cowboys, law enforcement. So the very areas I do research on are exciting themselves.

And I read, of course, but books full of exciting information. Right now I’m immersed in Inside Delta Force by Earl Haney. And I just finished a lengthy but very, very informative report on the Sinaloa drug cartel.

I’m fortunate enough to have human resources who don’t mind sharing their time with me. I’ve spent a lot of time talking to former members of Delta Force, Army counter-intelligence, the local sheriff’s department. the Special Agent in Charge of the local FBI field office. Ranch owners. Rodeo committee members. You name it, I’ve talked to them.

Field trips are also exciting. I was privileged to be able to visit LaRue Tactical, the company that makes sniper rifles for the Marines. And to spend an afternoon at Texas Armoring, the company that take ordinary vehicles and makes them more secure with armor plating, hidden gun ports, bulletproof glass—all the things you see on television. They took an afternoon to walk me through the entire process.

I have travel agents who help me with information on distant places as well as friends who have traveled there and eagerly shared their experiences and photos with me.

I’ve been lucky enough to fly in a helicopter and a luxury private plane, spend an afternoon on a private yacht, rub elbows with people on both sides of the law (don’t even ask), all of which has helped me flesh out my stories and hopefully make them as real to my readers as they are to the characters in my books.

Tomorrow we’ll talk about what my day is like. Stay tuned.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Tuesday Spotlight: Desiree Holt

Where Do I Get My Ideas

“Where on earth do you come up with the ideas for your books?”

Almost everyone I meet asks me that question and it’s certainly one I’ve asked of other authors.

The answer? A lot of places.

I’m working on a story now that came to me because I read a Letter to the Editor in my local weekly from a woman who’d been out jogging in the rain, got soaked and was offered a ride home by a man in a big black pickup who had his German shepherd with him. So I thought, what if……

Another time I was watching a mystery on television and in one tiny part of the story they hid the body of their infant beneath a tree, and I thought, what if……

I was in the checkout line at Wal-Mart one day and watched a couple in the next lane in a heated argument and I thought, what if……

I live in the middle of the Texas Hill Country surrounded by ranches. Let me tell you, just watching those cowboys at work, especially when they work their cutting horses, gives me so many idea my head can hardly contain them.

Sometimes I’ll be leafing through a magazine and a picture will catch my eye.

And often I base my stories on people I meet. My son had a friend who was a truly mysterious character. No one knew for sure which alphabet government agency he worked for or where he went when he disappeared for weeks at a time. And so Ethan Caine, the hero of Redemption was born. And The Scorpio Team deals with other men he worked with…or didn’t! But they made for good story material.

So the key is to never rein in your imagination, to always look around you and be open to whatever you see. Who knows? Maybe there’s a story right in front of you just waiting to be told.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Monday Spotlight: Desiree Holt

Why Do I Write

First of all, I want to thank Marianne and Judy for having me here in the author spotlight. It’s a real pleasure and I know I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.I look for old friends to join me and to making new friends. So pour your coffee, tea or soda, pull up a chair and let’s talk.

I find as I participate in book signings, chats, other activities, that there are five questions people seem to ask over and over. The same questions, I guess, I ask of authors I read myself and want to know more about.

1. Why Do I Write
2. Where Do I Get My Ideas
3. How Do I Do My Research
4. What My Day Is Like
5. What Am I working On Now

So why do I write? I write because I have an overactive imagination and if I tried to do all the things whirling around in my mind I wouldn’t be long for this world. So instead I write about them. In my stories I can visit every country in the world, immerse myself in any kind of profession, meet an array of fascinating people.

I had an English teacher many years ago who said, “When you write you give the reader a gift. On a blank page, with your words, you can help them draw pictures in their mind, give free rein to their imagination. They can take your words and create their own pictures.” I’ve never forgotten that. When I plot my stories and define my characters I try to use my words as an artist uses brushes and help the reader visualize.

I write because I like to share my thoughts with other people, and because I’m an addicted storyteller. When a thought dances around in my brain and begins to coalesce into a story, I want to share it with other people. To make them see and feel the things I do. Hopefully to bring pleasure into their lives.

And I write because in my computer and on the pages of my books I can be anyone, go anywhere and do anything, without ever leaving home. It’s a wonderful world out there and I try to capture it all in the pages of my books..

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Passionate War by Jennifer Wile

He watched her through the glass doors, the steam from the hot water misting the glass just enough to make his imagination wonder. He was her team mate, her partner, nothing more. He had longed to feel the touch of her smooth skin under his finger tips, to gently brush the hair away from her hazel eyes, and to take her as his own, claim her from all others.

But, like always, he just slipped quietly into the bathroom, the mist on the door concealing him as well as her. His eyes followed a water droplet as it made its way down the glass door, and he pictured it as it slid across her creamy skin. Down passed her shoulder, over her collar bone, slipping ever so quickly through the cleavage of her full breasts, the one thing he and the water drop would disagree on, one of the few places his tongue would linger. Slowly the water droplet made its way down the glass getting stuck around where her naval would be. He physically willed the water drop to continue its path, continue taking him down her body, but the drop stayed in that position, his mind continuously stuck on the picture of her tight tummy. Running a hand through his hair, he let out a long breath, realizing he was staring at the door. He quickly ducked out of the room.

He was her partner nothing more.

Jade squinted, her hand moving against the wall trying to find the towel nearby. Her watery finger prints left signs of her struggles to stop the burning sting in her eyes, but they weren't the only things that were burning. Heat pooled in her loins. A soft “yes!” floated on the mist of the shower as she found the face cloth. Wiping her eyes she thought about him.

He was her partner, nothing more; no matter how much she might want otherwise, she couldn’t possibly imagine a man so strong as him would ever want to take her, to be with her. She imagined the soap washing off of her skin was due to his hand. His hands running over shoulders and down her back, coming around the front of her tummy and slowly inching down.

”Damn it!”

She quickly grabbed the face cloth again and placed it over her face. The conditioner had trickled down into her eyes. Sighing she turned and let the water tangle with the strands of her long brown hair.

He had helped her today. Who was she kidding? He had saved her life! Not that she hadn’t done the same for him in the past but this was different. This time he had actually laid his hands on her, actually picked her up and took her to the medic personally. She had to admit that once she was in his arms she felt fine but against his chest she felt so protected, all she could do was lean in closer and try to take in his masculine scent.

Robert found himself in Jade’s bedroom still looking in on her in the shower. He remembered holding her in his arms, remembered the feeling of utter dread that maybe this time he wasn’t fast enough. The sounds of the guns firing in his memory suddenly faded as he looked up and met Jade's gaze. He had missed the water being turned off; his heart raced.

He stood up, unable to take his eyes off her body, down the curve of her breasts over the erect nipples, gliding over her abdomen. Jade cleared her throat forcing him to look back at her eyes. He didn’t know what to say, but his feet said it for him. Before he knew it he stood face to face with her, giving her only half a second before he pressed his lips passionately against hers. Jade kissed back, her tongue meeting his feverishly. Roberts’ hand moved over her body finally finding the triangle of soft curls between her legs. He felt her clit begging him to touch her and he smiled; she wanted him as bad as he wanted her. He picked her up and Jade wrapped her legs around his hips, her mouth nibbling on his neck.

Robert placed her on the bed and Jade looked up at him as he freed himself of his uniform. His rock hard cock greeted her eyes and she desperately needed him inside of her. He crawled onto the bed, his hand gently massaging her breasts as one of his knees pushed her legs open.

Jade moaned and he could smell her sex; her arousal made him crave her. As he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, his cock teased her clit. He ran the tip over it before moving slowly down her pussy, until he rested at her entrance. He placed the tip inside and took a deep breath when her hips moved trying to force the rest of him inside of her.

He looked down at her face. Jade was biting her bottom lip to keep from screaming. In one smooth motion he slid inside, her hot damp sheath wrapping tightly around his cock as he began to thrust in and out slowly as he kissed her lips. Pulling away he held on tighter to her wrists and pulled his cock almost completely out; at her groan of protest he entered her again, this time her hips meeting him thrust for thrust. Jade began to shake and he knew she was about to hit her climax; he was close as well. As her pussy wrapped tighter around him, milking him for what he would give her, he released her wrists and wrapped his mouth around her breast. As Jade screamed and shook with pleasure he bit down on her nipple adding pleasure and pain as his seed filled her core.

No longer just her partner, no longer just her team mate, she was now his.

About the author: Publishing a novel was a dream come true for Jennifer and an unexpected one. Since then she has been going to school to finish up her degree while writing more stories of different genres in hopes of continuing her writing career. She loves to hear from her readers.

Author Interview: Franny Armstrong

Whipped Cream is pleased to welcome Franny Armstrong, whose newest release Forever Blowing Bubbles is being released next month by Red Rose Press.

Franny's been creative since she was a child doing plays in her mom's garage for the neighborhood kids, charging them a nickel each. Her mother always encouraged her to write out her feelings and thoughts.

Twelve years ago Franny became ill with Multiple Chemical Sensitivities (MCS) and Bipolar II disorder which kept her home to avoid things like fragrances, air fresheners, cleaning products, exhaust fumes, etc. She became a professional writer and now she gets to write at home full-time.

"Surprisingly, there never seems to be enough time in the day to do all the things I want to, including work on my four websites, market, build marketing plans, blog, vlog, write, edit, create graphics for the web and book covers, and research. I absolutely love this job and wouldn’t give it up for the world. I have millions of stories and characters in my head just bursting to evolve."

Franny believes that erotica is all about sensuality, exploring your sexual side, and self-discovery.

"Many people believe it's just plain dirty pornography without the love, without the emotions," she said. "Great erotica makes your heart sing along with your body."

Porn doesn't have anything to do with love, romance or passion, in Franny's opinion.

"Porn is sex to make money with no emotional attachments. I always have to have the feelings associated with love and trust. Just watching or reading about sex is dull and boring," she assured me. "You can tell from watching adult videos (oh, did I say I watched them as a research tool?(Cough, cough…) that there is no emotion between the participants."

When it comes to researching her books, Franny admitted she has a vivid imagination and most of what she writes comes straight from her mind.

"I do read a lot of romantic erotica and research terminology and such," she told me. "I’m thinking of buying the book Kama Sutra to get more ideas and I’ve watched a few movies…raunchy sex driven movies that have nothing to do with erotica and everything to do with sex which gave me a few ideas on cool positions etc. I tend to practice on my hubby too. He asked me recently, 'Where have you been for the past twenty years?'”

Franny writes paranormal romantic suspense, paranormal romantic comedy, and also non-fiction about environmental health issues. Erotica intrigued her, though.

"I gave it a try and found that though I believe I can always increase the heat between my characters, I tend to do so without the swearing. Sensual, smoldering, sexy love is so much more fun to write as the main focus of a story."

"What does your family think of your writing?" I wondered. "Do they read it?"

Franny laughed.

"No! I doubt anyone in my family would like to know just what goes on in my mind. They’ll read my suspense, though admittedly, my mom refuses to read the love scenes, which are rated HOT. My youngest daughter tells all her work colleagues that I write ‘dirty’ novels. I tell them that I write erotica romance, which is not dirty, but sexy and sensual. There’s a big difference. However, there is a long lineup of people waiting to read them. I don’t give out the freebies ahead of time. That would spoil the fun of publishing it and having people show how much they truly want to read it. Funny though," she added with another laugh, "most of the ones interested are male."

"If you could entertain a character from a book, who would it be and what would the evening be like?"

"Wow, don’t tell my hubby or family, but in an erotic romance I've just had contracted, I’d like to have a ménage a trios with the characters Tait Bennett, tall dark and handsome, moody, and super sensual, and Mike Wagner, a tall hunky blonde cop who has a great sense of humor. They are the Yin and Yang of lovers for my character, Jada McKenzie. There’s nothing like a good variety to spice up your love life.

"We would be in Costa Rica in a villa up in the hills, the air fragrant with tropical blossoms, soft guitar music playing in the background. The bedroom patio doors would be opened (screens closed for bug so they don’t interrupt). Tait and Mike would be worshiping my body while licking chocolate off my skin. I in turn would be kissing and doing the same to them. Wow, is it hot in here? The moon would be full with each star shining so brightly the sky would be lit from above as though mystical beings sent their blessings. Dozens of pillar candles are lit around the room giving a warm loving atmosphere as we make sweet, passionate love. Oh, my…where is hubby’s cell phone number…whew!"

"What is your most embarrassing moment?" I asked.

"Though I have many, the best was when hubby and I fell off the bed at an inopportune moment landing ‘over top’ of the poor dog while our three kids came running to investigate the screaming laughter. We kept saying ‘Stay downstairs’ while trying not to put our weight on Buddy, who was not impressed. We didn’t hurt him since hubby and I kept us propped upside down with our hands on the floor trying to extricate ourselves before the kids got to our room. It was funnnnnnyyyy!"

I asked Franny what advice she would give to writers who want to try their hand at erotica.

"Get past the blushing. Make sure you have a great plot with a Happily Ever After. If you squirm, the reader should too. Always leave them wanting more…ah, books of yours, that is. Sexual tension is the peak of foreplay which leads to the greatest release. Try practicing on your partner. (they really like that) Let your inhibitions go, and never hold back. Erotica can make your own love life sing while your imagination soars."

You can keep up with Franny on her website,

Friday, May 14, 2010

Friday Spotlight: Belinda McBride

Living Fearless

We all know someone that humbles us with their skills, their intelligence and their abilities. I know I know many people like that. But among those lucky ones, there’s always that person who just seems to screw up in spite of themselves. It’s my friend “D” who can do virtually anything artistic, from drawing to sculpting in fabric. It’s “M” who can charm the skin off a snake, and paints photorealistically, or it’s “J” who had the looks and skill to have had a fulfilling career on stage.

These are all individuals with more than their share of talent, yet they’ve done nothing with it. Any of them could have started a business, written a book, or parlayed their skills into something really special. Instead, they’ve all lived tragic, unhappy lives and have never really exploited their potential.


I have a theory. It’s simple: fear. Fear of success, as well as the fear of failure.

Fear of failure is wicked. I’ve met writers who have been stuck on a project for years because they’re afraid to actually put it out there to be looked at. Even giving it to a critique partner or beta-reader is more than they can deal with.

Fear of success is even more insidious. There is responsibility that comes with success. How do you follow up that best-selling book with another? What if your next project sells well, but is a critical flop? Then there are more practical fears, such as money management and organizing your life to accommodate that success.

The people that I mentioned above are real, and without exception, their lives are unhappy and discontent. They gave up, and when you close the door on your creative self, life becomes bleak and unsatisfying. That creativity seeks another outlet, and sometimes that outlet can be far from healthy.

My challenge to you is this: take a risk. Try. To get Biblical, your light won’t shine if you hide it under a basket. And now that I think of it, if you put an open flame under a basket, you’re risking a nasty fire…

I’m not talking only about writing or art, but life in general. How long have you put off joining a gym because you’re afraid of the opinions of others? Maybe you want to take a class at the college, but it’s been so long and you don’t know if you can keep up with the younger students. Or my favorite, “Why should I get my hopes up when I’ll probably fail anyway?”

Let it go. Gather up your confidence, even if it’s the tiniest of shields. Cultivate thick skin. The only way to build your muscle is to exercise it. If you approach a wish with a plan, it’s no longer a dream, but a goal. And if you have a goal, write it down, make plans on how to carry it out. Don’t be afraid of succeeding! Don’t be afraid of failure either.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Thursday Spotlight: Belinda McBride

Alpha Tidbits: Levi, the Novice

At age three, Levi is my youngest Siberian, and my current show dog. He’s also the only intact male here at home. I have one other male, a 10 year old named Hu Fei. Since Levi has balls, he gets to be the Alpha by default.

He’s completely inappropriate as an alpha. When we visit my friend’s kennel, every dog on the property takes a stab at him. The English Mastiff lays on him, the Finnish Spitz mauls him mercilessly, and the pair of whippets love to roll him end over end. By the time we leave, I always have to check to see if Levi’s balls have sucked up into his body. He’s a total weenie.

Oddly, he actually has some really admirable alpha traits when he and Hu Fei aren’t growling at each other. Levi is a guardian. When all the other dogs are napping in the sun, he sits on watch, overseeing their safety. He does the same thing in the house at night. I have Missy on the bed with me, Pai Mei under the bed, and Ditto on the floor beside me. Levi sleeps in the doorway, keeping guard.

In all honesty, Levi really doesn’t like Ditto. She’s old, grumpy and prone to bite randomly…remember, she’s almost blind. So no, Levi isn’t Ditto’s buddy. While Ditto firmly believes that she’s not a dog, she occasionally remembers that she is and will venture off the back porch and out into the big dog yard.

That yard is where the dogs play their war games. It’s full of bushes and trees, with little trails that wind through the underbrush. They love to weave through it full speed, and one day Ditto followed everyone out there into the bushes.

I noticed that Ditto was stranded in the bushy part of the yard. She’d move forward, run into a branch or trip on a rock, and then she’d be stuck again. I was just getting ready to get a leash and walk her back in when Levi showed up at her side. Slowly, carefully, he escorted her from the bushes and up into the main yard and then through the gate. From there, she scented her destination (me) and made it up the stairs. Once he saw that she was on her way home, Levi darted off to play with the girls.

Now that’s what an alpha should be.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Wednesday Spotlight: Belinda McBride

When Everything…Stops

I wouldn’t call it writer’s block, after all, I’m sitting here writing now. However, there are times when everything just shuts down. I’m okay for editing and revising older work, but my mind simply refuses to take on something new. Early on, that worried me a great deal, to the point that I warned my editors that my writing schedule is a bit erratic at times.

The autumn is usually a dry time for me, and right now, the green, green grass of April is calling my name. It’s saying, “The foxtails are setting on! Get the Weed Eater started!” When I’m under stress, my creative energy will just ebb away. My older sister’s family is going through a heartbreaking battle with her addiction right now, and we spend a lot of time and energy listening to her children as they battle to save their mother’s life.

Oh, and then there’s RT. I’ve never been to it before, and as a person with social phobias, it’s got me a bit spooked. Add to that the fact that my promo stuff is taking up most of my luggage space, and now I’m really worried!

Honestly, I didn’t think anything would bubble to the surface for awhile, but last night I should have been sleeping, but instead, entered that twilight state where the mind begins to wander and create. While I won’t begin writing it just yet, I’ve got the kernel of an idea for a novella that will be part of a BDSM anthology. It really felt good to follow the meandering path of my imagination, even though some of the story was filled with sleepy foolishness.

So everything stops sometimes, and now I’m learning that even though I’ve stalled, things will start again. It just takes a stray thought or the whisper of a melody to trigger just the right, perfect idea for the moment.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Tuesday Spotlight: Belinda McBride

Alpha Tidbits: Ditto the Undead Dog

For nearly 20 years, I’ve shared my home and life with Siberian Huskies. I’ve bred and shown them, trained in obedience and even taken them to mushing bootcamps. (that convinced me to leave the sledding to the truly courageous!) Because they are a primitive breed, Siberians have some behaviors that are very similar to that of wolves. Of course, Siberians won’t usually dig holes in your walls, shred your curtains, and piss all over your every possession. Well…not every day...

Anyhow, Siberians flourish in packs, and their pack structure is very similar to that of wolves. I have 7, with an Alpha bitch, a kinda Alpha male, and an omega. Of the seven, one elderly female is a loner. She’s never been happy with the other dogs. Ditto was born at my house, moved in with her owner/breeder at 6 months old, and then returned to me years later when Mo was diagnosed with cancer.

Ditto has only one pack member other than herself, and that’s me. She sticks to me like Velcro. Where I go, she goes. Sadly, she’s approaching 15, and I swear she actually died a couple years ago; she just doesn’t know it. Ditto is the guardian of my personal space. She’s blind and totters around unsteadily, but all the other dogs tread in fear of her. She sleeps next to my bed at night, and if she’s in a particularly foul mood, in the doorway to prevent any other dog from entering the room.

Last month, she died again. I was working and noticed that she didn’t react when I bumped her with my computer chair. Getting down on the floor with her, I checked her breathing. It was shallow, and she didn’t respond to stimuli. Mom and I sat on the floor with her for a half-hour, keeping her company as she passed.

Outside, the other dogs were romping and playing. One apparently hit the work table and knocked the dog dishes on the floor; Ditto suddenly opened her eyes the rest of the way, (yes, they were open the whole time) and got to her feet, stretching and yawning. She sauntered into the kitchen and waited patiently for her dinner. Mom and I just sat and laughed.

I think that was the third time she died this year.