Laura Roberts's Blog, page 56

My gym routine needs an update: Stunt Writing day 18

I’m about to derail my whole Stunt Writing plan.

Why?

Because I got the green light from a publisher in the UK who liked the first 5,000 words of the erotic novella I sent them, and I need to finish the book by October 1!

This is exciting for a number of reasons, not least of which is that this would be my first traditionally published book. So I made a mock-up cover to celebrate:

Note: This is NOT the actual cover, it’s just a mock-up for my current WIP!

So although I do intend to keep up with my daily walks (which, unfortunately, I have totally failed to do this week), I will be substituting writing pieces of this novella instead of postcard stories and recording podcasts for the remainder of the Stunt Writing course.

Actually, I might try recording some of the book while I walk, as I’ve never tried dictating a piece of writing to myself. But that depends on whether or not my digital recorder still works, since my “smart phone” is not smart enough to do recordings. (Don’t ask.)

But back to my daily walk updates…

Today I hit the gym with my husband, but forgot to bring my Fitbit, so I didn’t get to see how many steps I conquered there. I figure somewhere in the neighborhood of 5,000, since that’s my average.

My workout is pretty straightforward, and could definitely use updating. I’ve been doing the same workout for approximately 8 years now, so yeah, change is good.

Here’s what I do:

Cardio for ~20 minutes on the elliptical machine (or however long it takes me to run the “Sears Tower” program — which today was 18 minutes and 26 seconds)
Leg Press: 410 pounds
Seated Cable Rows: 70 pounds
Bicep Curls: 20 pounds (yes, I am a pathetic girly-girl when it comes to bicep curls, bleh!)
Behind the Head Shoulder Presses: 50 pounds
Pecs: 55 pounds
Reverse Flys: 10 pounds (my right shoulder hurts everyday, so I am supposed to do this exercise to help alleviate the pain)
Skull Crushers: 40 pounds
Inclined Chest Press: 25 pounds

If my shoulder doesn’t hurt at the end of all that, I will sometimes throw in some Pull-Ups and/or Dips on the assisted machine.

Afterwards, I am pretty much useless for the rest of the day, and will typically eat lunch, drink a cider, and head to the bedroom for some quality TV or movie watching time with my husband and snuggling with our cats.

That’s about the plan for the rest of the day today, though I may also try to write up an outline for another novella that I want to write for the 3-Day Novel Contest (September 5–7) this year.

So…

What’d you do today?

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Why did the writer cross the road? (Stunt Writing day 14)

It’s 2 PM and 87 degrees. The Weather Channel claims it “feels like 84!” but I call bullshit. Feels more like 97, if you ask me. Though, thankfully, there’s still a slight breeze to wick that sweat on your forehead, if you pause in the shade of some nice, big trees.

I’m still cooling off after today’s 45-minute (!!!) walk.

I’m back, baby. With a vengeance. And this time, it’s personal.

I was inspired by my Stunt Writing professor’s encouragement to “take a leap and push through to the other side.” In one of her video lectures this week, she described a friend who had just met up with a personal trainer for her first session, and felt like she was about to die. The trainer told her that was okay, because at least 10 people in the gym knew CPR and could resuscitate her if that happened.

Now, I know walking every day for 30 minutes isn’t quite that extreme, but given the extreme heat California is experiencing right now, I do feel like I need a bit of a push to keep on going with this.

So, much like the chicken of so many jokes, I decided to cross the road.

I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it myself, but when I complained to my husband that there was nowhere to walk in this stinking town, we were sitting at a stoplight and he pointed across the street and asked, “Why don’t you walk over there?”

Huh! Why didn’t I? I’m not sure, but I think it’s because I didn’t know where that road went. It looked like it just went into another apartment complex, and walking around on private property is something I try to avoid. Turns out it’s actually a road with some nicely paved sidewalks that goes on for quite a way, bending and curving, and there’s even a few more apartment complexes and such down there.

I’ll have to further explore tomorrow, to see just how far I can walk before the sidewalks end.

For now, I feel re-energized by my walk. I feel stronger. I feel good. I hit my 5,000 step count! All in the heat.

Tomorrow, I’m going to go earlier in the morning, to try and beat the heat.

For now, I’ll soak up some air conditioning, have lunch, and do a little writing.

So…

What have you been up to today?

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#HumpDayReviews: Queen of Clubs, Season One by Katie de Long

The exotic dancers and employees of the Queen of Clubs walk a fine line, with only wits, beauty, and market savvy to keep them from toppling into the shark pit. Ride shotgun through lap dances, romance, and sexual awakenings. Don’t worry, these girls won’t ask what your hands are doing under the tip rail.

This collection contains all seven novellas in the first season of Queen of Clubs. They contain adult language and mature content, and can be read standalone or in order.

An excerpt from Queen of Clubs: Malia

“So who’ll give us the best show?”

I turned away from James, arched my face into his friend’s neck to speak. “Krissy has a great trick she saves for birthdays and bachelors: lighting her nipples on fire. She and Tori are both beltwhippers, too. That’s always a laugh. Tori’s got a nasty mouth on her, if you want to humiliate him a little. How much do you want to piss him off?” I pulled back and grinned.

“You got any tricks?” He raised an eyebrow. I winked at him, but bachelor parties had never been my thing.

“Oh, honey,” I leaned in close. “My best shows aren’t onstage.” Another friend tapped him on the shoulder, and I looked up.

Now I realized why that bachelor looked so familiar, with his brother staring me in the face.

“Lani?”

I fled the stage.

Buy Links

Amazon

My Thoughts

Queen of Clubs is full of characters. Starting with “Angel,” who chooses her more average stripper name when an old hand informs her that “Persephone” will make the regulars feel she thinks she’s better than they are, these ladies of the night have all got unique stories to share.

Whether they’re falling in love with club customers or fellow employees, there are plenty of tales for these women to tell — all from their own personal perspectives. You won’t find any of that “hooker with a heart of gold” crap here, nor broken prostitutes jonesing for a fix. Clichés begone! These are real women with real reasons for joining the sex trade, as well as for getting out of it.

What you will find in these pages are stories of loves lost and found, lust that beguiles, the dangers of falling for someone when you don’t even know their real name.

If you’ve ever fantasized about the women behind the sex workers, or considered pole dancing yourself, check out this collection for seven wild rides from a writer who tells it like she’s been there, too.

About the Author

Katie de Long lives in the Pacific Northwest, realizing her dream of being a crazy cat-lady. As a kid, Katie flagged the fade-to-blacks in every adult book she encountered, and when she began writing, she vowed to use cutaways sparingly. After all, that’s when the good stuff happens. And on a Kindle, no one asks why there’s so many bookmarks in her library.

Connect with Katie on Facebook, Twitter, and her website, DeLongKatie.com.

Giveaway

Katie de Long is awarding a randomly drawn commenter via Rafflecopter a signed copy of a Queen of Clubs novella plus a hand created pendant (US only). To enter, use the widget below — and don’t forget to follow the rest of the tour and comment. The more you comment, the better your chances of winning! All tour stops can be found here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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The Third Man and the power of uncertainty: Stunt Writing day 13

As a fitting finale to my noir class, my husband and I went to see The Third Man in an actual movie theater last night.

We’d never been to The Ken before, so we were curious to find out what it looked like on the inside. As for me, I was wondering what a west coast art house theater would be like, having enjoyed my experiences in NYC at theaters like the Angelika and Film Forum. (Incidentally, I’m super stoked that Angelika is finally bringing its own brand of theatrical entertainment to San Diego, even though I’m less-than-thrilled with the theater’s physical location northeast of La Jolla. Bring that culture downtown!)

The Ken was definitely old-school. The box office was closed, so we purchased tickets inside from the man behind the concessions counter. The decadent, greasy smell of buttered popcorn filled the air, and even though neither my husband nor I typically eat popcorn at the movies, we both wondered afterwards if we should’ve bought a bag.

The seats were definitely a throwback to a bygone era. No stadium seating here, with its comfortable, plush chairs that include a headrest. Proving that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone, these narrow, rather hard seats could use one of those stadium cushions meant for attendance at ball games. Perhaps the concession stand could stock up with Ken logo-emblazoned options, for those of us used to a little more butt padding?

At any rate, it was great to see this flick on the big screen. I’ve seen it before, of course, but there’s always something unique about seeing a movie in a theater, larger than life. Orson Welles rather demands such treatment, don’t you think?

I’m still pondering elements of the film, wondering in particular why it ends the way it does. Many noir flicks have unsatisfactory endings, and The Third Man’s seems particularly puzzling, if only because I can’t quite figure it out.

Now for the requisite ***SPOILERS AHEAD!*** warning for those who have somehow managed to escape watching this infamous film…

So, here’s my puzzle: I get Anna. I completely understand her motives. She loves Harry Lime, even though he’s an utter villain. She’s even told Holly Martins this very thing, in several different ways throughout the film. “A person doesn’t change because you find out more,” she says of Harry, when Holly comes to her apartment to say goodbye. Both Anna and Holly now know about Harry’s penicillin scam, and have seen the gruesome results. But she is unwavering in her devotion to the man she knew and loved. It’s a strange thing to say I get that, because I’d really like to condemn Anna for it, but at least she’s honest with herself and with Holly. She has never been mixed up in Harry’s schemes, except for her fake passport, or so she claims. Maybe she’s lying — she is an actress, after all — but it doesn’t seem like it. After all, why wouldn’t she run from the police when they come to cart her off to Russia?

She doesn’t want any part of Holly’s betrayal of Harry, and tells him this in the café where Holly is lying in wait to turn Harry over to the police. She accuses him of being a police informant — which is exactly what he is — and tells him how much she hates him.

So why in the name of all that makes sense would Holly try to win this woman over at the end of the film?!

Holly Martins, bumbling detective, still seems to think he’s a cowboy in the Old West, and that his heroic pose will win over this hardened woman. He leans up against that cart full of firewood and strikes a match to light his cigarette. Anna walks past him like he’s not even there. She doesn’t even glance sidelong in his direction, and she certainly doesn’t look back. The End.

You knew it was coming, but yet it still makes no damn sense. Because Anna is acting perfectly within her character by ignoring Holly (hell, she’s accidentally called him “Harry” for most of the film, and still sticks to her guns concerning her hatred of the man), but Holly is trying to be some kind of Hollywood hero and sweep her off her feet. Hello? The woman has dissed you at every turn! Did you not get the memo?

But I guess, typing it out that way, it kind of makes perfect sense. Because Holly does think he’s some kind of a Hollywood hero. He’s a hack writer, and it shows in his actions. He does exactly what any of his characters would do in that situation. They’d try to force a romance. They’d think that standing in a pose would make a woman drop everything and rush into their arms for a sweet embrace.

Idiotic! Has any real woman ever acted this way? Particularly when they’ve told their pursuer time and again to bugger off?

Anna is true to herself, and for that I admire her. I don’t share her views — either that a person doesn’t change because you find out more, or that Harry Lime was a loveable guy — but I admire the way she sticks to her beliefs. And I wonder what will become of her, because Holly is still trying to help her, but she doesn’t want his help. She’s undoubtedly going to come to a bad end, like everyone in noir films does. But that’s what she wants.

So I guess the real puzzle here is… why does Holly think he wants to be with Anna?

Holly is clearly a naïve character, someone who thinks he can solve the world’s problems with a little American optimism and ingenuity. But of course he can’t, because there are people like Harry Lime in the world, who view people as nothing more than “dots” to be picked off if it turns a profit. How do you combat true evil? And how do you center yourself in a world where the people you hold dear turn out to be people like Harry?

Holly deals with these kinds of problems by drinking, which only makes him slower and stupider when more problems arise. What kind of a hero is that? And why does he think he can protect Anna, anyway? She’s clearly more street smart than he is. Vienna is her city, not his. She wants to be with someone like Harry, no matter how terrible a person he really is. So what does Holly think he’s got to offer her?

I guess, ultimately, Holly thinks that he can change Anna, that he can make her love him. And that’s a very strange way to think about relationships, which is why I’m not getting it. If someone doesn’t already love you — or at least like you — then what do you think you’re going to do? Pester them until they change their minds? That does seem to be typical of old Hollywood notions, though it doesn’t square with any notion of romance I believe in. You can’t harass someone into loving you, after all, and usually we refer to those kinds of people as stalkers.

Anyway, I still find the ending very strange, because Holly seems to think of himself as this noble character, even though he basically discovers he was brought to Vienna under false pretenses by someone involved in truly heinous crimes, presumably to participate in such crimes until he himself became disposable. Why, then, continue to paint handing Harry over to the authorities as a traitorous act? The man was killing people for money! Holly is clearly not cut from such cloth, and yet he tells Callahan Calloway he can’t just throw aside 20 years of friendship.

Why not? Wouldn’t that be the noble thing to do?

So the real mystery here is Holly Martins. Why is he so loyal to a man like Harry Lime? Why does he think he’s going to get Lime’s girl in the end? Is it an act of revenge? (He says Harry stole his girl, once upon a time, when shooting the breeze with Anna.) Is he just that naïve? Maybe he’s just trying to start a new life for himself because he’s got nothing to go back to in the US? I don’t know. Maybe there’s no way to know. And so in the end we’re left with uncertainty.

And the uncertainty is what makes this film great, isn’t it? Because with all of the off-balance shots, all of the strangely happy zither music, all of the veiled threats, and all of the conspiracies floating around in this story, it’s that feeling that everything you know is wrong. Your loyalty, your love, your basic ideas about human nature. The Third Man suggests it’s about discovering who this third man really is… but when we find out, that solves nothing. We are still adrift on a sea of uncertainties, trying to make sense of the senseless.

Sometimes, we just have to surrender to the abyss, don’t we?

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Fleshing out flash fiction: Stunt Writing day 12

Day 12… What happened to day 11? I walked in Costco, while I waited for some prescriptions to be filled. I walked in a grocery store, collecting items for lunch and dinner. I went to the gym and hit the elliptical machine while virtually climbing the Sears Tower (I will always call it the Sears Tower, even now that they’ve renamed it Willis, but that’s another story for another day).

Pretty dull stuff. Not much ado to make a haiku.

So onward to day 12!

I just sent in a submission to 101 Fiction, a sci-fi/fantasy/horror/surreal magazine that publishes on a quarterly basis. Their current call is for stories on the theme of “Underground,” so I wrote a flash piece called “Raven” about good and evil at the end of the world. Keep your claws crossed that they like it!

And with that, I’m onto the first piece of Week 2, dedicated to postcard stories. This should be a fun experiment, as I love flash fiction but haven’t quite mastered the subtle art of the story in such a short space. I mean, I can be brief, but it’s also got to have that pop of color. That’s the tricky bit. What to cut, what to keep?

I’ll be working on that this week, as I experiment with more short fiction writing.

Anyway, since I sent my “Raven” piece in for publication, I can’t reproduce it here. So instead, here’s a list of some other publications I’m aiming to submit to this week:

Ten Thirty One — Halloween erotica
Splickety Love — Just Friends?
Infective Ink — The Substitute Teacher
Holland Park Press — I is Another short story competition
Lazy Fascist Review — no theme

I consider submitting stories for publication to be a kind of “stunt writing” in and of itself. After all, you never really know what the editors will be excited to read, and what will make them flip you a rejection in 30 seconds flat. Maybe they’re just oversaturated with the kind of writing you do. Maybe they’re just in a mood. Maybe you really just suck. Mostly, you’ll just never know. Unless, of course, their rejection letter is a straight-up “YOU SUCK!”

I haven’t gotten any like that yet, so I guess I should consider myself lucky.

At any rate, it’s time to put more words on paper, so I’d better quit this bloggery and get to it!

So…

What’s on your To Do list this Sunday?

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Haiku Noir: Stunt Writing day 10

It’s your last chance to steal some of my books — or get some for half off!

Check out the full list at my previous post here. Sale ends tonight (July 31) at midnight.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled daily haiku!

Since this is the very last week of my noir class, I thought I’d write some haiku about a few of my favorite noir flicks.

First up: The Big Sleep.

“go ahead and scratch,“

he says. she does. but the itch

is still there… stronger.

Gotta love Bogey and Bacall, right?

Next: Laura.

shady characters,

one soaks in his bath, writer.

other… a good cop?

I love this scene, but the whole movie is pretty brilliant. Especially the ending!

And finally: The Third Man.

500 years peace

brought us the cuckoo clock? sir,

you’re the cuckoo here!

Orson, you fiend! This flick is great if you love watching the light and shadows, the zigzagging lines, that feeling of being always off-balance. And, of course, it’s a story about a pulp fiction writer, so you’ll get some cheap thrills watching Holly Martins bumble his way through a murder mystery when his forte is clearly westerns. And did I mention the zither?

You can stream all of these flicks on Amazon, if you don’t already own them. Click the links I’ve included and away you go!

This was a fun exercise. I may have to write a few more of these noir haiku before the weekend is out. What movie would you recommend I try next?

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Pining for the prairies: Stunt Writing day 9

My first week of walking went so well… and this week I have been finding every excuse not to leave the house for my walks.

Here’s my problem:

I hate routines!

I hate feeling like I have to do something — whether it is good for me or not — and I hate feeling bored.

Walking, in my tiny town, is an activity I equate with boredom, because there are only a couple of roads I can walk on, and thus my walks are the same every day.

I know this isn’t technically true, in the sense that Heraclitus noted “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” The streets are not static, either, despite being more set in place than a rushing river. There’s different activity along every street, everyday. Right?

But still, I wish there were more options.

I remember enjoying walks more in my youth. I lived in a suburb of Chicago, my house just a hop, skip and a jump from a 61-mile-long jogging and biking trail called the Illinois Prairie Path. I frequently left my house in a teenage huff, angry at my parents, my sister, or the world at large, and simply walked on that path until my boiling thoughts were calmed. I would even walk in the rain, happy that the weather was so awful as it both illustrated my mood and prevented obnoxious passers-by from giving me sprightly “Hello!“s as I moodily stalked up and down the path.

“eerie fog on the prairie path” image by Flickr user clarkmaxwell

Part of my enjoyment of this path, rain or shine, was the fact that it stretched for miles in either direction, and seemed to offer an escape from the real world. Though it wound through my town, it also cut a straight line right through, pushing on to the next town over, physically removing me from situations when necessary, and offering the illusion of being in another world. It was, really, a bubble of nature in a world increasingly dominated by cars. The path itself also changed as you went along, from more open and exposed, to more quiet and tree canopied, crossing over highways on steel bridges, passing next to abandoned factories with their crumbling bricks and busted-out windows, curving alongside streams and — as per its name — flatter, open areas planted with prairie grasses.

A typical sight alongside the path in summertime:

“IMG_7482” image by Flickr user clare_and_ben

The path was also paved with a fine gravel, perfect for walking, biking, jogging, kicking up clouds of dirt in frustration, or consumed by puddles for splashing moodily in the rain. Rather than walking a concrete sidewalk, the Prairie Path was a perfect escape from gridded city streets.

It even felt safe in the dark.

“ghost of christmas past on the illinois prairie path” image by Flickr user clarkmaxwell

I walked there frequently, sometimes blasting my angsty teenage music in my headphones, sometimes just scrolling through a never-ending playlist of frustrations in my mind. I don’t think my parents ever knew that that was where I escaped to, when I blasted out of the house like a rocket fueled by anger. They thought I was going to a friend’s house (she lived on the other side of the path), probably. But instead, I disappeared.

The Prairie Path was my escape. It felt like my secret space, even when I knew others shared it. It was the perfect place to walk, even though it was essentially the same every day. It was a great place to lose yourself in thought, to walk fast and escape troubling thoughts, to commune with nature and to quietly meditate in motion. Sometimes I’d go by bike to see the miles fly by, but usually I preferred to walk. It was perfect.

And there isn’t anything like that in the town where I live now. I know there are hiking trails in San Diego, but I’m pining for that long, flat stretch of prairie to call my own.

I guess, at heart, I’ll always be a Midwestern girl.

And I think I may need to purchase a Prairie Path membership, since I’ve been pining for it lately, and I hope someone has been maintaining this path so that it’s still just as wonderful an escape as I remember it from my youth.

So…

What’s a nostalgic place you remember from your teenage years?

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Balboa Park inspired haiku: Stunt Writing day 8

Inspired by this postcard of Balboa Park from 1915:

Here’s today’s daily haiku:

summer sun tickles

dewdrops lazing on lilacs,

Balboa Park sings

Here’s a link to an image of a California lilac, from the San Diego Natural History Museum, in case you’re curious. It looks a lot different than the lilacs I grew up with in Illinois. I wonder if they smell any different?

 

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Welcome to Paradise: Ava’s Awakening #giveaway by Heidi Lynn Anderson

Ava’s Awakening

When Ava stumbles into Paradise and comes face-to-face with her dream man, she has a feeling she’s standing on the precipice of something life-changing. Not to mention, she couldn’t be more surprised to learn her supposedly prim and proper aunt Julie was actually part owner of the premier sex club in Miami and a top-notch Dominatrix.

Navy SEAL Logan Turner always knew he needed more out of life than the next mission. That’s why he opened Paradise with his best friend Julie. It didn’t hurt that he could reap the benefits of owning a BDSM sex club. But when a sexy, doe-eyed woman walks in, his control slips for the first time ever.

Maggie’s Longing

Who would have thought a plan to get the attention of one man, would have Maggie Blake taking two men to her bed?

Maggie Blake has one desire, to experience what the way too sexy Brian O’Malley has to offer in bed. Too bad he thinks of her as an annoyance and not as the hot, willing woman she is.

Brian O’Malley has one rule in life. Never let a woman too close, but club Paradise’s sassy little bartender threatens to change that rule and wiggle her hot little ass into his damaged heart.

Julie’s Surrender

Mistress Julie has worked to gain control of her life and overcome a tragedy from her past, and as a co-owner of Paradise, Miami’s premier BDSM club, she thought she had everything. But the truth is she longs for something more—something like the happiness her closest friends have found with their new partners.

Nick’s sexual specialty is playing “guest star” as the third in his friends’ ménage encounters. He’s especially good at reading a situation and adjusting accordingly, and giving and receiving pleasure—and then moving on. But once he meets Julie, Nick begins to rethink his ideas on relationships.

Nick and Julie get along great outside the bedroom, but Nick will need all his skills at discerning a woman’s deepest desires to show Julie that what she thinks she wants isn’t exactly what she needs.

Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!

An excerpt from Welcome to Paradise

Logan Turner walked into Paradise. The smell of booze and sex flowed over him, comforting his raw nerves. He scanned the large space and noticed the paint changes and new furnishings. The last time Logan was home, he and his business partner, Julie, discussed the updates this place needed. He liked the contrast of red paint and black leather furniture.

His gaze landed on the pretty little bartender and club manager. Her small, heart-shaped ass wiggled to whatever music beat through her earbuds.

“Hey, Maggie, I like what you did with the place,” he called out, loud enough for her to hear him.

The glass she washed clattered into the sink and Maggie spun. The look of surprise on her attractive face had Logan biting back a chuckle.

“Oh, Logan, you scared me.”

She wiped her palms on a bar rag, pushed her pink bangs out of her eyes and rushed over to him. He enveloped her fairy-sized body into a friendly hug.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she said against his chest.

He let her go. “Glad to be home,” he said and smoothed her multicolored waves from her face. “Julie here?”

Her cheeks pinked. “Yup. She’s in her office doing paperwork.”

Buy Links

Ellora’s Cave / Amazon / B&N / All Romance eBooks

About the Author

By day, Heidi Lynn Anderson is a wife, mother, and owner of a small Green-Cleaning company. By night, she spins erotic tales featuring hunky heroes and the women they love. When not working or writing, Heidi likes spending time with her husband and son, doing what Florida has to offer.

Connect with Heidi on Facebook, Twitter and her website, HeidiLynnAnderson.com.

Giveaway

The author will be awarding a $10 Starbucks gift card to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour. To enter, use the widget below — and don’t forget to follow the rest of the tour and comment. The more you comment, the better your chances of winning! All tour stops can be found here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Smashwords Summer Sale-a-thon: Stunt Writing day 7

It’s day 7 in my stunt writing class, and I’d like to pause for this brief commercial announcement:

From now until the end of July, you can grab any or all of the following books for 1/2 off:

Confessions of a 3-Day Novelist: How to Write an Entire Book in Just 72 Hours
69 Sexy Haiku
Haiku for Lovers
Montreal from A to Z
Ninjas of the 512
NOIR
Porn Stars & Peccadillos (Naked Montreal Book 2)
The Vixen Files

Just use coupon code SSW50 at checkout, only at Smashwords.

And you can get any of these dirty Quickies for FREE:

Play With Me: Sex Toys from A to Z
The Care and Maintenance of Bonsai
Double Trouble
Haiku for Haters (not XXX!)
How to Suck Better
The Man With the Golden Cock
Santa, Baby
Sexing the Ninja
The Unbelievably True Story of the World’s Worst Sex
Victoria’s Secret

Just use coupon code SW100 at checkout, also only available at Smashwords.

Enjoy!

And now back to your regularly scheduled Daily Haiku.

In fact, here is one from my Haiku for Haters book, in case you are curious:

Sleepless in Austin

can’t sleep: snow falls, an

endless tapping, my novel

still won’t write itself

If you were to write a haiku today, what would you write about?

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