Giselle Renarde's Blog, page 112

Six Sentence Sunday: Girls Gone Carnal

Happy Sunday!

This week's new release is Girls Gone Carnal: Lesbian Vamps, Witches and Weres, a mini-anthology of paranormal erotica.  Below, we've got six sentences from a story called "Milady's Bath"--a Gothic tale about a maid bathing her mistress, who has obtained some awful injuries after wandering out with the full moon.

Six Sentences from Girls Gone Carnal: Lesbian Vamps, Witches and Weres:
As Milady skims her fingers through the hair between her legs, I watch her lovely breasts bob in the water.  Those pallid spheres call to me, their poor pink nipples distended and erect.  I roll up the sleeves of my nightdress before drizzling fragranced oil across her chest.  She sighs when I rub my cloth the length of her bare breast, but I am hardly satisfied to touch her skin through a square of cotton.  Her nudity provokes irrepressible urges in me.  I must feel her soft flesh against mine.
***

Now Available from:
eXcessica: http://www.excessica.com/books/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=5&products_id=594

Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/girls-gone-carnal-lesbian-vamps-witches-and-weres

All Romance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-girlsgonecarnallesbianvampswitchesandweres-973787-139.html

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/244450

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Girls-Gone-Carnal-Lesbian-ebook/dp/B009POGFN8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1350147153&sr=1-1&keywords=girls+gone+carnal

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/girls-gone-carnal-giselle-renarde/1113451625?ean=2940015586367

Coming soon to other vendors!

Enjoy/Happy Weekend!
GiselleGiselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...

LGBT Seniors Meet and Greet in Toronto

I spotted this little handout at a community centre in North Toronto, and since I've often heard said there's less support out there for older LGBT individuals than younger ones, I thought I'd post it here.


If you're having trouble reading the above, I'll recap briefly: Thursday October 18, 2012 a seniors' organization called SPRINT is holding a social and "special client engagement opportunity" from 2-4 p.m.  They want to know what YOU, LGBT and LGBT-positive people 55 and older, would like to see in upcoming programming.

All sexual orientations and gender identities welcome!

This event takes place at 140 Merton Street, Jane Moore Community Room

If you're an LGBT senior in Toronto, or you know people who are, attend/spread the word!

Hugs,
GiselleGiselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...

New Release! Girls Gone Carnal: Lesbian Vamps, Witches and Weres

Furry.  Vicious.  Wicked. 
Lesbian shifters, vampires, and witches come in all shapes and sizes.  From the humblest mouse to the most ferocious cougar, from maids and their mistresses to urban vamps and the women they lick, these stories are sure to inspire chills, thrills, and delicious shivers:
Milady’s Bath ~a Gothic tale from a Lady’s maid at midnightMrs. Fox and the Cat of Nine Tails~a fairy tale cat seduces her mistressSneak~a mouse shifter saves the day in a backwoods bordelloSparrow Takes Flight~a wind witch leaves as often as she comesBlood Lust~this vamp plays with knivesWild Things~a deaf witch meets her match in the rainforestTaken from Behind~cougar shifters must be extra carefulBlood Whore~urban fantasy from a student just vamping for the cash
WARNINGS: This title contains blood, fur, and explicit lesbian sex.
Word Count: 26,000
EXCERPT:Milady winces as she glides into the bathing tub and dunks her head under the water.  Her soft breasts float to the surface even before the tip of her nose rises up.  Her wet hair emerges and she gasps for breath.  All else but her scraped knees remain underwater.
Seating myself on a cushioned stool at her side, I soak a square of cotton in the fragranced water and wipe dirt from her face.  She smiles at me as though we share a secret, but I must admit it’s a secret I don’t fully understand.
“Have you truly never been intimate with a man?” she asks.  “You can confide me, dear Lizzie.  I promise never to tell a soul.”
Shaking my head, I run the cloth down Milady’s smooth neck.  The white cotton turns grey and I must start again with a new square.  “I regret I have nothing to confess.  I have no desire to be intimate with any man.”
She hisses when I touch the cloth to her chest.  Her scratches trouble me deeply, but Milady remains jubilant after such wretched abuse.
“I could never take pleasure in pain,” I tell her.  “If this is the mark of man, I am safer in my own leanings.”
“Ah, but this is no mere man,” she says, and closes her eyes.  A smile flows from her tender pink lips.  “He is a man and so much more.”
As Milady skims her fingers through the hair between her legs, I watch her lovely breasts bob in the water.  Those pallid spheres call to me, their poor pink nipples distended and erect.  I roll up the sleeves of my nightdress before drizzling fragranced oil across her chest.  She sighs when I rub my cloth the length of her bare breast, but I am hardly satisfied to touch her skin through a square of cotton.  Her nudity provokes irrepressible urges in me.  I must feel her soft flesh against mine.
Now Available from:

eXcessica: http://www.excessica.com/books/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=5&products_id=594

Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/girls-gone-carnal-lesbian-vamps-witches-and-weres

All Romance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-girlsgonecarnallesbianvampswitchesandweres-973787-139.html

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/244450

Coming soon to Amazon, B-to-the-N, all those places...

Enjoy/Happy Weekend!
GiselleGiselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...

I Am SO TOTALLY QUEER

It's National Coming Out Day, which, according to Wikipedia, IS observed here in Canada, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to say I'm here, I'm queer, you're probably used to it.  I guess I'm not COMING out, since I've never been shy about telling you all the dirty details of my sexual and romantic life, but why not take the opportunity to celebrate my sexual identity? I'm not sure if I've blogged about the concept of "coming out" before, but I firmly believe that coming out is something we do every day, not just once and then it's over and we can live our lives as happy queers.  Coming out happens every time we walk down the street holding hands with our sweethearts.  Coming out happens every time we make small talk at a function and mention in passing our girlfriends or boyfriends or husbands or wives.  Coming out happens in linguistic selection, in not veiling our awesome selves.  
If our sexual and/or gender identifies evolve within our lifetimes, coming out can happen multiple times with the same set of people--family, friends, coworkers.  Those of us who identify as queer, bi, or even gay or lesbian, can express true solidarity by expressing our queerness verbally and vocally when/if we happen to be partnered with people of the "opposite sex" (I don't like that term, but can't think of a better one off-hand).  That's when the outside world will be most inclined to view us as straight.  I'm talking, for instance, when I was in my twenties and had a long-term partner who was a man.  People look at that and say "straight folks" and it takes a lot of effort to drive the queer point home.  We've got to be extra-loud when our visible out-in-the-world actions don't tell the whole story of our identities.  
We are constantly making choices, oftentimes not even aware we are doing so, that will determine whether we make our sexual identities known to strangers and acquaintances or not.
It's not a one-time dealy, just do it and you're done.  Every day is coming out day.
But especially today.
If you're coming out for the very first time today, or in an especially big way (like, if there's a pinata and cake involved), then all the power to you.  And I would like a piece of cake, please.
Hugs,GiselleGiselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...

Excerptfest 2012: Boys Next Door

I just so happen to have an excerpt on hand from the inimitable Sommer Marsden.  The Book is Boys Next Door.  The burb is this:


Boys Next DoorThree Men, One Woman, Maximum Passion
Never in her hottest dreams did Farrell McGee expect a move to Tower Terrace to be such an erotic roller coaster ride. "Good luck getting your key. I’m the middle house across the road should you need anything. At all," he said. The tone, the words, the accent on the anything. Oh god, he was one of those men. Men who had tons of self assurance and sexual prowess and total faith in their bedroom abilities. Those men were dangerous.Starting over at twenty eight, Farrell McGee discovers sleepy Tower Terrace teeming with handsome men. Well, maybe not teeming, but three heart-stopping men do live across the road from her.Despite feeling she's fallen backwards into a fairytale, complete with a big stone tower, a local legend and missing love letters, it becomes clear that all three of her neighbours have a sensual grip on her. She's powerless to choose just one, and just as powerless to get them out of her head or her bed. Deke, the devilish good boy who's superb at being bad. Coop, so often annoying in his gruffness, but oh so dominant where it counts. And Stephen the pretty, sweet, slightly submissive one. Her sex life has never been so good and her heart never so torn. She needs to choose one man, when she's not ready to give up any of them. But deep down she knows who she wants.

EXCERPT:

‘It’ll be okay,’ he said, pulling me back just enough that I brushed against him which helped me get my bearings.

He was warm against me, but I shivered.

‘Your hands are freezing. Are you claustrophobic?’

‘Not so much that,’ I whispered as if louder noise would make us plummet to our deaths. ‘I just don’t like elevators. How long? How long will we be here?’

‘Do you want the truth or do you want a lie?’

I sighed. ‘The truth, though the smart money is probably on the lie.’

‘Probably half an hour to an hour. George has a good heart but slow hands.’

‘Great.’ I moved my hands around to try and find the railing that ran along the sides of the elevator. I didn’t think this poor man needed to be holding me like some damsel in distress. But what my fingers brushed was most definitely not the wall of the elevator. My hand froze.

‘Um . . .’ he said. And there was that dark and almost sinister laughter that somehow slid up my spine and under my hair and prickled my scalp like electricity.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.

A moment ticked by and I was afraid to breathe. I felt like I might laugh or cry or scream, or possibly all three at once.

‘But not enough to move it, eh?’ he asked, moving his body just enough that I felt the hard push of his cock to my hand.

My face heated with a blush. I was grateful he couldn’t see.

‘Shit. First I grope you and then I . . . just keep right on groping you. I don’t even move my hand. Have I mentioned the one thing that freaks me out is elevators? And a dark one that is being worked on by a slow man is the worst case scenario.’ ‘Hunh,’ he said and I could hear him smile.

‘And my hand is still on your cock!’ I blurted, finally ripping my hand away.

‘Hey, whatever calms you down, Farrell McGee.’

I couldn’t help but snort, but my hands were shaking and I felt a little light-headed.

‘You’re really scared,’ he said.

‘I’m –’

‘It’s coming off of you in waves. It’s palpable. That’s hard to pull off. Palpable fear.’

‘I am nothing if not talented.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a failed actress. You?’

‘Failed writer. But I am currently the butcher for our small town.’

‘Ah, I love meat.’

Dead silence.

‘Oh my God. I swear I’m not normally this stupid.’ I put my hand up to brush my hair out of my face, in the dark it felt like a million tiny spiders tickling my cheeks.

But I brushed over him instead – I was starting to wonder if it really was an accident – and he took my hand and squeezed it between his warm ones.

‘Breathe,’ he said. He put my hands flat on his chest and then placed his over the top of mine. I stood there, trying to calm down and feeling the steady and easy beat-beat-beat of his heart.

I took a deep breath and held it before blowing it out. The same way I did for stage fright.

‘Better?’ he asked, his face close, his breath smelling of mint.

‘Better,’ I echoed.

‘You smell good,’ he said. ‘Like peaches and . . . I can’t quite put my finger on it.’ Deke leaned in and sniffed right at the juncture of neck and shoulder. My skin prickled almost violently. ‘Honey?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘All I can smell is you.’

What was I doing? My God, I had just met this man, had only seen him in the light for a few moments and now – if my nether regions were to be believed – I wanted him.

Badly.

‘And what do I smell like?’ He put his hands on my lower back, splaying his fingers, spreading their warmth. He pulled me just a touch closer and though his cock wasn’t touching me, I felt – or imagined I felt – the energy from his hard on mingling with my own lustful energy.

‘Pine and cinnamon and wood smoke. Like the outdoors. That’s what you smell like.’

‘Hunh. Good nose. I spent all day at a client’s fishing cabin, dressing a deer.’

For some odd reason, I imagined a deer in a skiing ensemble and snorted. But even as the laughter burst out of me, I pushed my pelvis to his. Brazen, but it was what I felt the urge to do. So I did it.

New life. New way of doing things.

‘Dressing?’ I rotated my hips just a bit and his fingers brushed over my skin sliding lower to slip beneath the waistband of my jeans.

‘It means butchering. But don’t worry,’ he said, when I went a bit stiff. ‘I cleaned up real good and even had some coffee by the fire before I left.’

His mouth came down on mine then and I figured, fuck it. I was scared and horny and he was handsome and Satan-ish and felt damn good pressed against me.

I let his tongue bully mine before I put my hands in that dark mussed hair I remembered and hauled him to me. Deeper went the kiss and when he bumped his erection against me so I could feel how turned on he was, I nipped his lip.

‘Damn,’ he said. ‘Welcome to town.’

‘Shh. Kiss me,’ I said, rubbing my hand over his cock, squeezing his length through his jeans until he groaned. ‘I need to be distracted.’

‘I can do that,’ he said against my lips. Then he was turning me. A flipping, flying, falling sensation because of the darkness. My back ended up pressed to the wall of the elevator, my ass riding that metal bar I’d been searching out.

‘Touch me,’ I begged. I wasn’t sure where this new ‘me’ was coming from, but it was fine. She was okay by me.

‘I can do that,’ he echoed and his warm fingers ran down my belly, making me tremble.

His hand slipped below my jeans before plunging into my panties. Deke’s hot fingers found my clit and he pressed so that all my breath slipped out of me. Warm wet circles brought me close to an orgasm right off the bat. He was good.

I arched against him and kissed him again, finding his face – a bit rough with stubble – with my hands. I sighed again, arching up to meet his touch and he lazily slipped a thick finger into my cunt.

‘You’re so fucking wet, Ms McGee,’ Deke said against my throat. His teeth grazed my pulse point and he gently sucked that fragile skin until an echoing tug sounded in my cunt. My body tightened around his finger and this time we both groaned.

[To be continued]

HarperCollins: http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/boys-next-door/
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Boys-Next-Mischief-Books-ebook/dp/B008LQ9MJ0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1348935240
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Boys-Next-Mischief-Books-ebook/dp/B008LQ9MJ0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1349105040&sr=1-1
All Romance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-boysnextdoormischiefbooks-957573-144.html
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/boys-next-door-sommer-marsden/1112032934?ean=9780007479313Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...

Excerptfest 2012: Naughty: Full to Bursting

It's never too early or too late for Christmas strap-on sex with a side of double penetration!

After six months together, Wanda still hasn't told her children Janelle is more than just a friend. Janelle spends every evening at the house, helping with dinner and homework, but come 10 or 11 at night Wanda always sends her home. Their only chance for debauchery comes one weekend a month, when the kids visit their grandparents. With Christmas on the way, will tensions build too high for Janelle to handle, or will she be fully satisfied by Wanda's big, sexy gift?

Sample

“Wanda?”

Janelle sat up in the middle of the mattress, cradling the covers in both hands. Her back was bare, chilled not by the temperature of Wanda’s cozy home, but by her apprehension. The house was too quiet.

“Wanda?”

There was a squeak on the stairs and then a creak on the landing before Wanda appeared in the doorway. Janelle struggled with where to look first: she glanced at her woman’s face, but she couldn’t glean any emotion from that stony expression before her gaze shot down between Wanda’s thighs. Should she laugh or should she gasp? It was…wow, it was huge!

“Lost for words, little girl?” Wanda strutted into the bedroom, and that mammoth dildo bounced with every step. “Hey, you said you wanted more. I figured I'd give you part of your Christmas present a little early. Doubt you’ll be calling out for more after I fuck you with this monster.”

Janelle could feel saliva collecting under her tongue, and she forced herself to swallow. She couldn’t even remember what she’d been thinking about before. Now that she’d laid eyes on that big, veiny cock, she only wanted one thing.

“It’s new,” Janelle stammered, feeling like an idiot. Of course it was new, it was her Christmas gift!

The strap-on they usually used belonged to Janelle, but it was cheap, hard to wrangle, and the dildo that came with it was nothing to write home about. This new one was less a harness than a sleek pair of jockey shorts with a reinforced waistband and O-ring. Janelle had only ever seen them online, but that stretchy black fabric fit Wanda’s round ass like a wet dream.

Wanda crept up next to the bed, proud as punch, letting the new toy sway side to side. “Wanna touch it?”

***

Christmas stories are always popular, even in the middle of August.  Naughty: Full to Bursting is available from Torquere Press: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=79_108&products_id=3475Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...

Excerptfest 2012: Gigglepuss

After working in the same restaurant for four years, Lorna develops a sudden and explosive crush on quirky Mitsuki. Though Mitsuki doesn't seem to oppose Lorna's advances, every time Lorna tries to kiss the girl, Mitsuki giggles. For a cocky dyke like Lorna, giggles are insulting ... almost infuriating! A sacrilege! Can Lorna quell the giggles, or will she join in?

EXCERPT:

I kissed her on Tuesday, and she giggled.

I kissed her on Wednesday, and she giggled.

Thursday I vowed not to take another chance. I wasn’t used to being laughed at. Other girls didn’t titter when I pulled them close, took their soft cheeks firmly between my palms and pressed their luscious lips to mine. Other girls understood the seriousness of my intent. But other girls were not Mitsuki.

My ego was battered and bruised, but I couldn’t resist. I couldn’t resist those pink lips gleaming like liquid glass under a thick layer of gloss. I couldn’t resist those hazel eyes, which sparkled even more brilliantly than her lips. She reminded me of a Japanese anime schoolgirl, the way she flirted and teased with nothing but the bat of an eyelash. But Mitsuki was real. She was flesh and blood – warm flesh and cold blood, it seemed to me, because I kissed her again on Thursday, and she giggled.

I left work in a hidden fury that night. I didn’t want her to see how exasperating I found her, or the restaurant, or this situation, or anything. Cool as a cucumber – that’s Lorna. Ask any of the closet bi babes in this godforsaken boonie-ville and they’ll tell you the very same: Lorna never loses it. Lorna’s always in control. The guys around here are scared of me – they cross to the other side of the road when I’m marching down the sidewalk – but the women? Oh, they’re a different story altogether.

Women love me. They just don’t know it until I tell them. And, actually, it’s less a telling than a showing. I catch some gorgeous marriage-laden MILF or some barely-legal pretty checking me out, and I hold their gazes. I don’t let go. They’re spellbound. I know when I’ve got them mesmerised. I know they’d follow me to the ends of the Earth and, when we arrived there, they’d let me do whatever I damn well desired.

Well, I don’t usually trail them along quite that far, but it’s never been too hard to force-feed that look that says, ‘Follow me’. Up they get, excusing themselves from their friends or family or date-night with the hubby. ‘Just going to powder my nose,’ they say, because the women in this goddamn town never stray beyond euphemism. These are girly girls, even the grown women. They don’t piss; they powder.

Though they don’t piss or powder once I’ve made eye contact. They walk right past the restrooms, straight down the hall to my filthy post-war industrial kitchen. If it’s summer weather, I pull them out into the alleyway and press their backs to the brick wall. The garbage cans are right there, but I’ve never heard one of them complain about the smell. They’re already too intoxicated by the spell they’ve let me cast, and they go limp in my arms. They don’t put up a fight. They don’t chatter or gab, and they definitely don’t giggle. I kiss them and they take it. They might sigh or gasp – in fact, they usually do – but I’ve never heard a single one of them laugh.

If it’s spring, when a young woman’s fancy turns to thoughts of lust and her wardrobe turns to breezy little dresses, I might just hike up the girl’s skirt and let her pussy ride my palm. Otherwise, I’ll just launch my hands up her top and thumb her tits through her bra. If one of those nipples escapes, so much the better – I’ll squeeze it between my thumb and forefinger until she’s weak at the knees.

***

Get it at Xcite: http://www.xcitebooks.co.uk/Book/6286/Gigglepuss.htmlGiselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...

Excerptfest 2012: A Tale of Fur and Flesh

Since it's October and all, I guess a shapeshifter fairy tale excerpt is in order:

Princess Lally was a happy child until her mother’s untimely death. It was then her devastated and distraught father locked himself away, leaving Lally to grow into adulthood without parents to care for her. When the King finally emerges after ten years, he is no longer the man Lally remembers from the halcyon days of youth. He has descended into lunacy, and is intent upon marrying his daughter.

Lally’s joy at her father’s return quickly becomes rage, and she takes refuge in the darker realms of her personality, surrounded by a forest of shape-shifting creatures. Disguised as a peasant girl under layers of furs, she seeks shelter and protection in the land of the good King Aelwyn. Will Lally remain in the dark world of the shapeshifters and succumb to the same madness that has overtaken her father, or will she find relief from her suffering in the one man who treats her with kindness?

EXCERPT:

“You make my blood boil, you filthy dog!” Lally cried. His insults evoked in her the same feelings Offal’s had, long before she knew he was good at heart. Picking a rock off the ground, she launched it at Wolf. He evaded the stone and it struck the oak tree behind him.

Allerleirauh braced herself for a stormy reaction, but the creature said nothing. He did nothing. His violent gaze pierced her like an arrow through her heart. Then a threatening smile crept across his face as he revealed sharp canine teeth. She felt naked before this rough beast. No other creature had rendered her so bare, so fragile. Could Wolf smell her anticipatory juices?

The forest floor trembled under the creature’s forward steps. His voice was hot and rough. It was the sound of friction. “Nah, I’m no dog, lass. Ye know well I’m a wolf. And ye? Ye’re a good-for-nothing hoor. Even yer old da wanted a piece of ye.”

Lally tasted bile at the mention of her demented father. It wasn’t her fault! How dare he? Her heart pumped with fury as she rushed the wolf-man, not knowing what she might do next. Strike him? Kick him? But no. What was she doing? Plunging her tongue into his hot mouth! Wolf caught her in his lean arms when she leapt at him. Holding her aloft, he returned her thirsty kisses. Even his mouth was strong.

Breaking from the desperate kiss, he dipped Allerleirauh back. Blood flowed to her brain, making her dizzy as Wolf ravaged the breasts peeking out from under black snakeskin. He bit her tits. He sucked her tender nipples so hard they stung. He could do anything to her. She was his dinner. Wolf ran his rough tongue the length of her chest and up her neck, leaving traces of hot moisture in his wake. Again and again he lapped her skin. What strength in his arms, that he could he support her. The power she perceived in his body made her muscles limp.

When Wolf raised her to his lips, the collection of blood in her head rushed straight to her cunt. A tremble shot through her core. Grabbing his silver mane, she kissed the beast unrelentingly. “You will help with my mantle, you dirty dog,” she disparaged him. “You harmful beast, you callous brute!” This would be their game.

“Aye, I’ll help ye, trollymog,” Wolf replied, abruptly releasing his grip on her. When Lally tumbled down to earth, he continued their match of denigration. Grabbing her by the waist, he inverted his princess-cum-whore. “Turn yer belly to the ground, wee strumpet. I cannot bear to look upon yer bawdy face.”

***

Scottish werewolves... am I right?

A Tale of Fur and Flesh is available from eXcessica Publishing: http://www.excessica.com/books/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=22&products_id=468Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...

Excerptfest 2012: Callie and the Hipsters

I dedicated this ebook to CBC Radio Three.  Really.  I did.  You can check the dedication and everything.
At some point in life, every author must write a book about a divorcée who sleeps with two of her son's friends, right?  Well, Callie and the Hipsters is mine:

When Callie’s husband leaves her for a younger woman, she drives all the way out to the summerhouse only to find it's been taken over by hipsters--twenty-somethings who wear plaid and listen to indie rock and eat nothing but raw broccoli.  They're friends of her son, Dante, all queer and quirky students at the nearby university.  

At first, Callie's irritated that her son has thrown a party in her haven of relaxation, but when she and a bottle of Kahlua stumble upon two young men gettin' it on in her bed her annoyance morphs into arousal.  The drink and the day's multitude of disappointments encourage her to join Vish and Evan, pansexual and polyamorous young men who are more than happy to welcome a vibrant older woman into their bed. How will they feel about inviting Callie into their lives?  

EXCERPT:


Callie froze after pressing the door to the master suite open with her hip. She was still in the doorframe when she realized she wasn't alone. The lights were off, but the moon and its twin in the lake illuminated the space well enough for her to make out two bodies writhing in her bed. Hers and Winston‟s bed. Well, not anymore. She very nearly turned tail and left them to it before remembering this was her bedroom, not theirs, and she'd most likely had a much crappier day than they'd had, so she deserved it more.    And then she thought, well, what am I going to use it for? Drinking alone until she passed out? At least they were having fun. They were young! Let them enjoy life.    Callie didn't move. She wasn't really sure where to go, now. There were two girls making out on the couch downstairs, and up here…were these girls too? Whoever they were, they were too into each other to notice her presence. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the moonlight, and when they did she nearly dropped her Kahlua. They were boys—both of them! At first she wasn't sure. She tried to convince herself the white guy underneath the brown guy was actually female, but they were both buck naked and there was no mistaking balls.    Both guys were skinny. Thin arms, thin frames, thin legs—skinny. She had a much better view of the brown guy—Indian, maybe? South Asian, at any rate. He was fucking the white guy doggie-style—did gay guys call it that? Callie didn‟t know—with the covers and sheets all pushed down to the foot of the bed. Although she felt like a total perv for doing it, Callie crept further inside the bedroom and concealed herself in the darkness of the corner by the door. She gulped down her second bathroom cup of Kahlua and poured herself a third. If she was going to act like an utter reprobate, she should at least have an excuse. Drunkenness was a fine justification for any misbehaviour.    The Indian boy had a hand in the white boy's sandy hair now. Callie could just make out the clutch and pull as he forced his lips against the boy's ear. “You like that, don‟t you? You like my cock in your ass.”   The white boy moaned, but that obviously wasn't good enough. “Tell me you like it,” the Indian guy insisted. “Tell me you like my fat dick in your tight little asshole.”    “I like it,” the white boy cried. It was the first time Callie heard his voice, and it was higher in pitch than she'd anticipated. “Give me your big dick, Vish. Fuck me hard.”    It seemed to Callie that this boy, Vish, was already fucking him hard, but apparently Vish could go harder. “You sure you can handle any more?” he taunted.    “I can take everything you've got, babe.” 
***Find it at Secret Cravings. It's part of their "Hot Flash" Line: http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=126
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...

Excerptfest 2012: Narcissist Seeks Narcissist

If you enjoy a little comedy, a little romance, and of course some lesbian sex, Narcissist Seeks Narcissist just might be the story for you:

Szuszu the former model has inhabited a world of sex, drugs, and far too much scotch since she was just a teenager. All these years, her best friend Babette has been right by her side. Now that Babette is married and setting off on a world tour, Szuszu feels utterly abandoned.  As a pre-departure joke, Babette writes up a silly and snide little personal ad, which Szuszu proceeds to post, hoping to attract a woman who looks just like she did when she was young.

Naomi thinks Szuszu's post is hilarious -- what a great sense of humor! She can hardly believe the centrefold she stole from her dad's collection way back in the day is looking for love. It's not like her to answer a personal ad, but for the infamous Szuszu she'll obviously make an exception. She thinks Szuszu looks fantastic, and Szuszu thinks Naomi looks just like her -- owing to the fact that Szuszu's vision isn't what it used to be and she's too proud to wear glasses.

EXCERPT:

"What's that you're scribbling, darling? It's about me, isn't it?" Szuszu reached across the table, nearly knocking over her backup scotch and soda. "Hand it over, Babs. Let's have a look."

Babette pressed the cocktail napkin flush to her chest, setting down her slim gold pen. "It's nothing, Szusz. Just my shopping list." She shook her head, eyes wide, guilty as sin. "Just my groceries."

"Shopping!" Szuszu cackled, knocked back the scotch in her hand, then slammed the glass down on the table. "Darling, you haven't done the shopping since you shacked up with that dairy cow you call a wife. You don't need to shop -- just bend the old hausfrau over a bucket and you've got your milk for free."

"Leave Matilda out of this." Babette shoved the cocktail napkin in her jacket pocket.

"Ah!" Gazing across the table through the amplifying lens of an empty scotch glass, Szuszu pointed to Babette's chest. "There! I see what you've written. It's all smeared across your tits, darling." Squinting, she tried to make out the loopy handwriting smudged on Babette's skin. "noitaroda… lautum… rof… What is that, darling, Latin? Or have you had a stroke?"

Babette glanced down at the writing on her chest, wetting another serviette with Szuszu's next scotch and rubbing it over the pen marks. "It's backwards, darling. It's an imprint, you know." After setting the wet serviette down on the table, she pulled the dry one from her pocket. "Fine, then. Fine, if you're so curious. Here it is. That's what I wrote."

Squinting at the flimsy square of paper, Szuszu held it up close and then away from herself, but the words still wouldn't come into focus.

"I think you need to get yourself a good pair of specs, Szusz."

Szuszu's eyes twitched at the blasphemy. "Nobody wears glasses, darling, except librarians and Elton John. I was a model, you know."

"Yes, I know, Szusz. Everybody knows." Babette rolled her eyes like a teenager. "You do realize you've gone up to every person in this bloody lounge to tell themI was a model?"

"Well, I was on the cover of all the magazines in my day."

"In your day, right, you were. Headlines read: War is over. Szuszu greets sailors at port."

An overwhelming desire came over Szuszu to kick her dearest friend in the shins, but when she let loose, her snakeskin boot met the cylinder of metal holding up the table. "Oh, for Christ sake," she moaned, rubbing her toe. "If I wasn't legless, I bet that would smart." Defeated, she handed the napkin back across the table. "Here, read this for me, Babs. I can't see straight."

"Can't even think straight," Babette mumbled. "All right then, you want to know what I wrote while you were babbling on about your glory days? I wrote up a personal ad, darling: Narcissist seeks narcissist for mutual adoration. Turn-ons include mirrors, soup spoons, darkened windows, and other reflective surfaces. Must enjoy photo albums, the sound of her own voice, and endlessly reliving days of cover girl glory. Doppelgangers will receive preferential treatment--see attached photo. Looks trump substance. Models preferred. Serious enquiries only."

When Babette had finished reading from the serviette, Szuszu offered weak applause. "So you're going to dump the dairy cow after all these years. Good show, darling. It's about time."

Babette's ears turned bright red and she shook her head. "I am not dumping anybody. This ad isn't for me--it's for you. You're the narcissist, darling. You're the one unlucky in love."

"Luck has nothing to do with it, Babs." Szuszu polished off the last of her scotch and held up her glass for more. "I'm not like you, darling. I don't buy into your little cult of Noah's Ark, everyone in neat little pairings."

"It's hardly Noah's Ark if it's full of lesbians," Babette muttered.

***
Narcissist Seeks Narcissist is available from New Dawning Bookfair: http://www.newdawningbookfair.com/index.php?page=shop.product_details&category_id=51&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=99&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=178&vmcchk=1&Itemid=178

I guess I should mention that all these ebooks I'm excerpting from are available from most big retailers (like B&N, Amazon, ARe) as well, but if you love your authors, do try to buy directly from the publisher's site.  We earn more pennies on the dollar that way, and then we can feed our cats and pay our rents and keep on writing.

Hugs,
GiselleGiselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...