Fierce Dolan's Blog: Writing Utopia, One Word at a Time, page 13
February 17, 2013
Introducing Flappers, Flasks and Foul Play by Ellen Mansoor Collier
Ellen’s Website | Goodreads
Flappers, Flasks and Foul Play on Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords
Publication Date: July 1, 2012
Media Kit
Book Cover
Author Pic
About Ellen Mansoor Collier
Ellen Mansoor Collier is a Houston freelance writer/editor whose articles, essays and short stories have been published in several national magazines. FLAPPERS is her debut novel, and she’s currently working on the sequel, BATHING BEAUTIES, BOOZE AND BULLETS, due out this Spring. She graduated from the University of Texas at Austin with a degree in Magazine Journalism, and was active in Women in Communications (W.I.C.I.), serving as president her senior year.
About Flappers, Flasks and Foul Play
“Boardwalk Empire” meets “The Great Gatsby” in this soft-boiled ”Jazz Age” mystery, inspired by actual events. Prohibition is in full swing in 1920s Galveston, Texas: the “Sin City of the Southwest.” Jasmine Cross, a young society reporter, feels caught between two clashing cultures: the seedy speakeasy underworld and the snooty social circles she covers in the Galveston Gazette.During a night out with her best friend, Jazz witnesses a bar fight at the Oasis–a speakeasy secretly owned by her black-sheep half-brother, Sammy Cook. But when a big-shot banker with a hidden past collapses there and later dies, she suspects foul play. Was it an accident or murder?Soon new Prohibition Agent James Burton raids the Oasis, threatening to shut it down if Sammy doesn’t talk. Suspicious, he pursues Jazz, but she refuses to rat on Sammy. As turf wars escalate between two real-life rival gangs, Sammy is accused of murder. To find the killer, Jazz must risk her life and career, exposing the dark side of Galveston’s glittering society.
Excerpt:
A loud bang sounded, a crash, a door cracking. Heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs and three men in dark suits entered the Oasis, holding badges. Their guns raised high, the trio circled the room like Wild West lawmen. We had no place to hide. A stocky man shoved Dino against the wall and for once, he didn’t fight back. Sammy must have warned him to be on his best behavior. Frank crept towards the back like a spy, trying to disappear into the woodwork. I’d never been in a raid before, but I’d seen them on news reels. My heart throbbed in my chest as I braced myself for the worst: What if we all got arrested and thrown in jail?
“Federal Agent James Burton, Treasury Department. Don’t move and no one will get hurt!” yelled the tallest of the trio. Over six feet, he wore a fancy three-piece beige suit and felt hat. I didn’t know flatfoots got paid so well.Cool as ice, Sammy sauntered out from the kitchen, smiling at the men as if they were regulars. “Welcome! How can I help you gentlemen?”
“You can tell us where you keep your booze,” Burton said, scanning the room.
“Booze? You’re in the wrong place, boys. All we serve here is good food and soda pop.” Sammy wiped his hands on a dirty red apron he’d thrown on for effect. “Hungry? How about today’s special—home-made spaghetti?”
“We need a drink to quench our thirst,” said Burton. “On the rocks, since we’re on duty.”
Sammy feigned surprise—not a bad job of acting for an amateur. “How about root beer or a Coke? The only cold drinks we serve here are soda pop. We’re bone dry.”
“That’s not what we heard—Mr. Cook, is it? We hear this place is full of hooch.”
I held my breath, trying to quell a bad case of the screaming meemies. How’d he know Sammy’s name? Who mentioned any hooch? Agent Burton and his men slid between the tables, his eyes dancing back and forth, studying each customer, as if memorizing their faces.
A burly cop in glasses pointed to an older bald man cowering in his chair. “You there! What’s that poison you’re drinking?”
“It’s lemonade,” the man stammered. “I swear.”
“Looks like a cocktail to me.” The agent stuck his finger in the glass, tasted it, then threw it down. Glass splintered into tiny slivers as liquid seeped into the wood floor….
Dropping his friendly facade, Sammy marched over to Burton, his boots crunching on broken glass. “I told you it’s a diner, not a bar. Leave him alone. Who do you think you are?”
“Like I said, name’s Burton,” he said, as if talking to a dim-witted child. “I’m the new head of Galveston’s Prohibition enforcement office.” He held up his badge like a shiny trophy. The two men were polar opposites: With his tanned skin and thick honey-blond hair, Burton resembled a golden retriever ready to attack a Doberman. No contest, if you ask me.
“You’re wasting your time here. No need to harass my help or my customers.”
“Seems your customers must like to play rough.” Burton tapped his own cheekbone, indicating Sammy’s black eye.
I nudged Nathan under the table, impressed by Sammy’s bravado. But maybe this wasn’t the best time to question authority. His big mouth could earn him a fat lip.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to Nathan. My throat was so dry, I could barely speak.
“Who knows? Never been invited to a raid before.”
Burton must have heard us because he strode over to our table, and draped an arm over my chair. “Evening, ma’am. What’s a classy dish like you doing in this crummy gin mill?”
How dare he! “Get your hands off me!” I shrugged off his arm, shoulders stiff. He backed away, surprised. Up close, I noticed how young he was, late twenties, face smooth and tanned.
Nathan stood up, a full head shorter than Burton. “Back off, buster. Leave my date alone.” Obviously Burton’s gun and badge failed to impress Nathan. What he lacked in stature, he made up for with attitude.
“Your date?” Agent Burton smiled. “Lucky guy.” He took a sip from my cup, then spit it out.
“If you’d asked nicely, I could’ve told you it was Coca-Cola.” Watch it, Jazz. In school, I’d often gotten in trouble for talking back to my teachers, but they hadn’t carried a badge or a loaded gun.
“Excuse my manners, miss. I can’t resist a pretty face and a smart mouth.”
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February 13, 2013
Kinky Love
I don’t know how else to say it. If you like gay, raw, and intensely kinky sex of the shifter variety, you can get it “Journal of a Lycanthrophile,” Book One of The Scattered Dark Series, free on Amazon, all day today!
when the kink most forbidden is the monster that sates
About Journal of a Lycanthrophile
Jesse Holloman has a fetish for justice and a kink for werewolves. Together, his passions spiral into a world of pain, shadow desires, and an even more sinister, secretive sort of shapeshifter—the kind that changes without shifting.
From Journal of a Lycanthrophile
My first sexual experience was with a werewolf, which is weird to write. I mean, seeing it in words, yes, but also because journaling reminds me of gossipy diaries and schoolgirls, and this is neither. What can I say? I’m a guy with biases, a work in progress. Writing makes what happened to me tangible, helps me understand what happened better. Anyway, maybe somebody will find these notes and understand the real deal, or at least believe things like this happen. I would never have believed if it hadn’t happened to me. I was just a kid—nineteen—a couple of years back.
I was in my junior year at a stuffy boarding school in the foothills of Rainier. Had no fucking clue what I wanted to do with my life, and no real motivation to decide. Factor in how badly I sucked at academics, sports, pretty much everything, and that’s why I was stuck at a boarding school in the middle of no-goddamn-where.
So it’s no surprise I was out goofing off late one night. Goes without saying, the moon was full. I never bought into any of the stories about the moon making people crazy, or turning werewolves. Actually, the encounter started out pretty ordinary until I realized there would be sex. I was nineteen. Getting it on with a werewolf made no difference to me. Any sex is good sex. Guys that age will do just about anything—literally. Besides, it’s not like he was a wild animal that took advantage or anything. The opportunity just sort of sneaked up on us both. He could easily have killed me, and for a long time I didn’t know why he let me live.
I’d gone to a meadow not far from my dorm, an open field gone fallow, adjacent to a defunct ranch separated from campus by a forest of Western Hemlocks and Sitka Spruces. We weren’t supposed to go there, so of course we did, to get high, drunk, fuck, or to have some damn privacy. That’s why I was there, sitting on a big rock jutting out of the ground about four feet, minding my own business, when I heard a sound and saw movement in the brush to my left. I looked over, thinking the shadows and moonlight played tricks on the snow until I saw a really tall and wiry man there. When he noticed me watching, he crouched, and the half-light played over him enough that I saw he was naked. Close to the ground, he held super still, like primal, eerie still, which is what freaked me out.
When he finally moved closer, his silhouette fluffed into dark fur covering his entire body. I stayed put on the rock, thinking he was Bigfoot. He was so tall, though he wasn’t exactly over-sized, just furry. His feet weren’t tremendously big, though they splayed into beefy paws. His arms hung limp but sinewy, and his hairy hands curled into massive claws. Those claws and the enormous fangs pressing out of his frothing, panting snout clued me in he wasn’t Bigfoot. By the time he came within a couple feet of me, everything in me knew he was a werewolf.
It never occurred to me to run. In fact, I wasn’t even afraid. So stunned by what I was seeing, I thought he was some science fiction creature come to life or a myth walking right up to me. Kind of a stupid thing to say, because it was exactly the latter.
After a few moments of staring at each other, I slid off the rock and stood in front of him. If he’d reared up straight, he would have been a good two heads taller than me, and I was six foot two. Hunched down, he came maybe to my shoulders. His collar bones and chest tapered angular and gaunt to the vest of his ribs. He was all solid, lean muscle, with huge thighs and claws that curled into the soft snow. I couldn’t help peering behind him to see that there was no tail.
I was shocked when he came within inches of my chest. My heart raced, but still I didn’t think to run. Eyes black as his gums, when he inhaled, his insanely long tongue curled out from his leathery, stretched lips and licked at the air. He lapped several times, and I stood there thinking nobody would believe me, and I had no way to prove I’d seen him…
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February 10, 2013
Women Writing Men Doing Men
Women Writing Men Doing Men
It’s a cultural staple that straight men dig girl-on-girl, or better yet—the mythological Hot Bi Babe waiting to indulge every het couple’s desire—which a lot of men still reduce to girl-on-girl. A lesser known fact is that women write (and read) the majority of m/m erotica on the market today, and the booming smut industry wants to know why.
First off, let’s distinguish between gay fiction and m/m fiction. Gay fiction generally encompasses the journey of the character, that is, some reality of an LBGTQ life path cloaked in a fictional portrayal. Despite the made up plot and circumstances, the character’s journey is the emphasis, shaped by factors of sexual orientation, possibly gender identity, community acceptance or creation.
M/M fiction is subtly different. It focuses primarily on romance. The romantic engagement of guys is the plot. All circumstances revolve around it, all conflict and resolution, so mote it be. Yes, some women write lauded gay fiction (Brokeback Mountain), though the majority of feminine chromosomes in the homoerotic market write m/m. Why? What’s wrong with writing the good old-fashioned bodice rippers hidden under our matriarchal elders night stands?
Well, nothing, if you like that sort of thing. But what if you don’t? There’s been a lot of speculation on why female authors write M/M romance/erotica, some very good insights included in the resources at the end of this blog.
Basic preference is the simplest factor. Maybe guy-on-guy is a secret treat the author writes because it’s what she wants to read. Maybe it’s something else. For some, sex with a man from the female viewpoint isn’t as literarily titillating as through the masculine perspective, which encompasses different permissions, roles, allowances, desires, sensations, sensitivities, even plot choices.
Along that line, many female purveyors of m/m erotica cite lack of projected gender roles as a factor in their reading selections. In a M/F coupling, roles are automatic. We don’t consciously think about it as readers, and as writers we don’t realize how much we draw on those societal assumptions to fill out character and plot. The woman is the weaker character if not sub, while the man is assumed the hero, until otherwise shown. In m/m, f/f, genderqueer romance, assuming that it’s not a fetish genre, it’s a wide open field. Anyone can hold the power. Anyone can behave as zhe likes. Within that freedom there is greater range to tell a new story, to have a fresh angle, to create brand (spanking) new gender, thus sexual, dynamics.
Some authors write m/m erotica because they feel obligated to. Sensitivity to sexual orientation, gender perception, biogender, and the social voice of those who identify as other than straight calls them to present in fiction what many readers would never pick up to read in nonfiction.
In the end, do we know why women write m/m erotica, or why the audience for it is dominated by women? Who can say? Artistically speaking, authors who don’t think in a box can’t write in one. If an author’s internal landscape doesn’t assume a m/f pairing the author can never convincingly write one. My question is, why shouldn’t women write m/m erotica?
Do you write or read /m erotica? Share your thoughts on the genre and what role it plays in your world view.
Fierce is the gender-lite erotica author of as many pansexual, genderneutral, life-loving configurations as zhe can think of. Latest release to note is Journal of a Lycanthrophile, Book One of The Scattered Dark Series.
Buy link: http://www.amazon.com/Journal-Lycanth...
Frolic with Fierce on:
Words Without Limits www.fiercedolan.com.
FB: https://www.facebook.com/fiercedolan
Twitter: www.twitter.com/fiercedolan
Resources
Lambda Literary – http://www.lambdaliterary.org/feature...
The Marconis – http://historicromance.wordpress.com/...
Alex Beecroft – http://alexbeecroftblog.wordpress.com...
Kergan Edwards – http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kergan-...
Originally published on 7 Sexy Scribes.
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February 3, 2013
Behind the Scenes of Your Favorite Book – Reader’s Guides
For those who love to get behind-the-scenes of their favorite characters’ minds, motivations, feelings, and pasts, a great way to share information otherwise not plot-relevant is in Reader’s Guides. I create one for every major writing project, and readers seem to get a lot out of them. They contain info like name meanings, inspirations for certain dynamics and settings, background information about characters, or the original bug up my ass that prompted putting pen to paper.
If you like digging into the back alleys of stories, check out my Reader’s Guides. And authors, sharing such guides can open up dialogue with readers, and give book groups a starting place for discussing your book. Also, scope out Literary Lagniappe, a site devoted to satisfying your curiosity about stories, plots, and characters, through exploring how they came into being. By tapping into “The Making Of,” character interviews, dossiers on characters, and digging around in the heads of overly imaginative authors, this site presents so insightful and fascinating info on great stories. As well, prospective authors could gain some insight into character development, plot advancement, and the amount of research that goes into all of the above by checking out this site.
Do you read Reader’s Guides? What details did you learn about your favorite stories that endeared you more to them?
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January 24, 2013
Grabbing Word Choice by the Bits – Erotica or Erotic Romance?
Yes, erotica and erotic romance are booming literary fonts right now, but how many readers are aware of the challenge authors face in determining what to call what?
A lot of care goes into how a writer references “down under” (I just made myself giggle.). But seriously, we each have word preferences for how we react to smut, indicating shades of modesty (implying, also, lack thereof), cultural recognition, and deep, sensual arousal. Words matter, yet it’s really challenging to find the right words to suit the style, characters, voice, and setting for a piece. No pun.
I mean, a bravely placed “twat” as opposed to gently penned “folds” can make or break a sex scene for a lot of readers. Likewise a “throbbing cock” isn’t necessarily a “hard, fat prick.”
There are no guidelines for regional referencing, though we all know what arouses our personal zones and what pushes taboo buttons. Sexiness aside, consider for a second, the literal, systematic writing of a sex scene:
If we repeat the same word throughout, it becomes mechanical, thus our writing skills (not to mention general literary cred) are judged. There are only so many times you can say “cock” or “cunt” and either remain arousing.
Using a different word each time or in some peppered pattern reads scattershot.
Likewise, readers of erotic romance are more likely to be enthralled with a”probing member” than lovers of erotica, who are ready to receive the direct “deep dicking.”
Many erotica readers tweak from a “tight snatch,” and are completely turned off by a “sweet sex,” terminology more suited to the romantic interlude.
So you see, aside from the ability to structure intense plot and paint personable characters, restrained and blatant word choice are art all their own.
The thing is, readers do notice the difference, and that’s what distinguishes their craving for either erotica or erotic romance. Some readers like both, though most that I interact with definitely favor one over the other.
Also, after talking with some amazing FB friends (thank you loves!), there is a general consensus that it’s easier to write about masculine bits than it is feminine, and that the terminology used to describe boy junk is most often sexier and free of character judgment, where that of the pussy persuasion usually originated from a sexist, misogynistic slur. I challenge you to find a widely known slang term for ‘vagina’ that wasn’t originally a sexist slur or a fluffy animal. The first person to comment with such an entity wins a free ebook of Gigolo Seduction (18 or older only, please).
Which camp do you fall into–erotica or erotic romance? Is a prick a knob? Can a tender twat still be a hungry little slit? What names for genitalia turn you on? How much does the context around them soothe the bit delivery?
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January 20, 2013
Cover Mates, or She’s Got My Dress On
I was just doing a bit of research on bondage equipment, when a chick showed up at the prom wearing my dress! No seriously. I really was doing researching a restraint board. I know how hard that is to believe.
The funny part is I found my book cover on someone else’s book, and not just someone, but Delilah Fawkes! How cool–we have the same taste!
Check them out. Here’s mine, which came out in May of last year:
And Delilah’s covers, which came out later in the year, with matching shoes:
Check out Delilah. She’s got loads of filth to keep you busy. I mean, other awesome dresses…
The post Cover Mates, or She’s Got My Dress On appeared first on Fierce Dolan.
January 18, 2013
SammyJo Hunts’ Deal with the Devil
It’s been a while since erotica author, SammyJo Hunt, visited my blog. But guess what? She’s back, with a fantastic new release–Deal with the Devil! I’m also stoked that she’s giving away two free ebook copies of DEAL with the DEVIL!!! Comment here within 48 hours of this post to be entered to win! Winners must be 18 or older, and will be contacted by email, so be sure to leave your contact info!
About Deal with the Devil
Derrick Delaney has been a high-class professional stripper for several years, rolling in money and living the good life. He entertains his choice of elite private patrons in the upstairs VIP lounge, and has his goals and dreams mapped out. Among those plans, taking time out to fall in love is not an option.
Then Scott Silver, a famous rock star, walks into the club and into his life one sultry, fateful night. Their not-so-chance meeting develops into an unquenchable obsession for both the exotic dancer and his musical benefactor. When Scott reveals his true agenda, Derrick’s feelings of anger and betrayal are not enough to make him turn his back on the singer. Come along for the ride as passion sizzles, sparks fly, and fireworks erupt when against his better judgment, Derrick is pressured into signing a Deal with the Devil.
From Deal with the Devil
Scott’s behavior mystified Derrick. He acted as though they were on a date instead of him being a paid escort. He shook his head, a small smile curving his mouth. Perhaps the man was telling him the truth, and he really didn’t expect anything else in return for his money. This had to be a first for Derrick. No one had ever just paid to meet and talk to him.
He raised wide, questioning eyes to Scott. “Yeah, you can kiss me,” he murmured, waiting, his lips parting slightly in invitation.
Scott paused, watching Derrick’s eyes for a few seconds before leaning in to bring their lips together. It was soft and hesitant, not at all what Derrick was expecting. It sent a myriad of hot shivers coursing through him. Their kiss lingered for a moment longer before Scott pulled away, leaving his heart racing like a schoolboy.
“Can I see you?” Scott asked, eyes dropping to the growing tent in Derrick’s jeans. Raking his fingers across Derrick’s crotch and scratching at the zipper, Scott indicated what he wanted without force or demand. It made all the electricity in Derrick’s body start sending hot jolts of electricity straight to his cock.
Breath quickening ever faster, Derrick fumbled with his zipper, suddenly feeling like a fifteen year-old kid on his first date. Those arctic blue eyes held him prisoner, fingers shaking as he undid the top button and slid the zipper down. Opening his jeans to reveal white briefs, he ran his hand over his hard-on, palming himself, then reached out and took Scott’s hand. Bringing it to him, he placed it warmly on top of his cock, cupping him through his underwear.
Together, they eased the elastic waistband down to reveal his throbbing shaft. Derrick watched as Scott’s eyes went dark with want. The man was unlike any he’d ever met before. It terrified him, sending off more alarms; but then, desire was there, too. Desire like Derrick hadn’t felt in a very long time for anyone . . . maybe never . . . surged rapidly through his body. He sucked in a tight breath as long fingers gently caressed him, thumb rubbing the underside of the head and down the large vein that pulsed beneath the skin. It sent more chills rushing through his body, this slow death by fire from Scott Silver’s touch.
He watched, fascinated, as Scott’s fingers moved up and down the rigid shaft, stroking hot, velvet skin, teasing and driving him wild. Normally, clients wanted Derrick to pleasure them, not the other way around. He didn’t know what to make of this guy. But he wanted more.
“I want to suck you off. Can I?” Scott purred sensually, voice vibrating with desire. Derrick nodded mindlessly, watching as his ebony head bowed low and soft pink lips opened wide to take him inside. Enveloped in that warm mouth, for the first time in forever, Derrick knew he was in trouble.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathed. Defenses suddenly down, Derrick’s breath caught in his throat, surprised at just how good it felt to be touched by this man. He was losing his sense of control over their private party, a critical error in judgment.
Head falling back against the couch, he closed his eyes and wallowed in the sensations of being blown, expert lips and tongue giving him intense pleasure. He felt Scott go all the way down on him, nosing his groin, inhaling his scent, fingers snaking between his thighs to fondle his balls. Then a tender finger was pushing inside his ass, curling tightly and hitting against that spot that stole the air from his lungs, causing his hips to thrust up for more.
A few more seconds of that talented mouth working his cock, a long finger up his ass, and Derrick was groaning and coming in a heated rush, pumping his load down Scott’s throat. Hips jerking, cock stuttering to empty itself of every last drop of cum, and Derrick was breathless, drained of all energy. When Scott pulled off, it was with a lazy lick over the top of his slit, tongue digging into the tiny opening to tease, tickle, and suck him clean.
“You’re delicious,” he commented softly, voice low and gravelly as he met Derrick’s totally lust-blown eyes. Derrick stared back, trying to focus on that beautiful face, those intense blue orbs did fucking things to his insides. “That was amazing,” he whispered, uncertain, guard fucking blown along with his reserves.
Find Deal with the Devil at:
Amazon
Smashwords
About SammyJo Hunt
SammyJo Hunt is female, age 44, and has made northern Utah her home for almost twenty years. She has not married and is owned by her pet tabby cat Bug. She is currently attending graduate school pursuing a Master’s Degree in Human Services and Counseling. SammyJo has a Bachelors Degree in Social Work, and serves families, children, teens, and the LGBTQ communities.
She enjoys reading, writing, and spending time with friends and loved ones. Ms. Hunt loves hot sexy boys and steamy heroes, along with the challenge of spinning a good tale. Happily-ever-after stories are a great source of her inspiration. She enjoys making her readers fall in love with her characters, and nothing gives her more personal satisfaction than knowing her stories inspire true love and happiness for those who read and enjoy them.
Also by SammyJo Hunt
A Wicked Encounter
The Soul Awakening – part of Chasing the Dream Anthology
Checkmate! – part of “Silver Presents…Love is Love Anthology”-Coming Feb. 9th & available now for Pre-Order
Broken Hearts & Candy Kisses
Forthcoming Releases
Murder, Most Likely – Spring, 2013
Haunted by Obsession – Summer, 2013
Find SammyJo On
Blog
The post SammyJo Hunts’ Deal with the Devil appeared first on Fierce Dolan.
January 15, 2013
Journal of a Lycanthrophile
when the kink most forbidden is the monster that sates
Available on:
Amazon <!--<br />
<LI><A HREF="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/..." target="_blank">Smashwords</A>–></li>
</ul>
<p><strong><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Journal-Lycanth... class="alignleft size-full wp-image-1610" style="border: 0px; margin: 12px;" title="Journal of a Lycanthrophile" alt="Journal of a Lycanthrophile, Book One of The Scattered Dark Series by Fierce Dolan" src="http://i2.wp.com/www.fiercedolan.com/..." data-recalc-dims="1" /></a>About <em>Journal of a Lycanthrophile</em></strong></p>
<p>Jesse Holloman has a fetish for justice and a kink for werewolves. Together, his passions spiral into a world of pain, shadow desires, and an even more sinister, secretive sort of shapeshifter—the kind that changes without shifting.</p>
<p><b>From <em>Journal of a Lycanthrophile</em></b></p>
<p><em>June 26, 1999</em></p>
<p>My first sexual experience was with a werewolf, which is weird to write. I mean, seeing it in words, yes, but also because journaling reminds me of gossipy diaries and schoolgirls, and this is neither. What can I say? I’m a guy with biases, a work in progress. Writing makes what happened to me tangible, helps me understand what happened better. Anyway, maybe somebody will find these notes and understand the real deal, or at least believe things like this happen. I would never have believed if it hadn’t happened to me. I was just a kid—nineteen—a couple of years back.</p>
<p>I was in my junior year at a stuffy boarding school in the foothills of Rainier. Had no fucking clue what I wanted to do with my life, and no real motivation to decide. Factor in how badly I sucked at academics, sports, pretty much everything, and that’s why I was stuck at a boarding school in the middle of no-goddamn-where.</p>
<p>So it’s no surprise I was out goofing off late one night. Goes without saying, the moon was full. I never bought into any of the stories about the moon making people crazy, or turning werewolves. Actually, the encounter started out pretty ordinary until I realized there would be sex. I was nineteen. Getting it on with a werewolf made no difference to me. Any sex is good sex. Guys that age will do just about anything—literally. Besides, it’s not like he was a wild animal that took advantage or anything. The opportunity just sort of sneaked up on us both. He could easily have killed me, and for a long time I didn’t know why he let me live.</p>
<p>Learn more about <em>Journal of a Lycanthrophile</em> with the <a href="http://www.fiercedolan.com/blog/lycan... Guide</a>.</p>
January 14, 2013
Meet Author, Ella Jade
Ella Jade has been writing for as long as she can remember. As a child, she often had a notebook and pen with her, and now as an adult, the laptop is never far. The plots and dialogue have always played out in her head, but she never knew what to do with them. That all changed when she discovered the eBook industry. She started penning novels at a rapid pace and now she can’t be stopped.
[image error]Ella resides in New Jersey with her husband and two young boys. When she’s not chasing after her kids, she’s busy writing, attending PTO meetings, kickboxing, and scrapbooking. She hopes you’ll get lost in her words.
Learn more about Ella Jade at:
Website
Blog
Goodreads
On Something More
An affair and a shocking secret threaten to tear apart a rich and powerful family.
Claudia Samson, housekeeper to the privileged Callahan family, finds herself alone and pregnant after a brief fling with Gavin, the youngest Callahan son. When she informed him of the pregnancy he accused her of running a scam and made it clear that she was on her own.
Brody Callahan, Gavin’s older half-brother, has devoted his entire life to running the family business. He doesn’t realize what he’s been missing by throwing himself into his work until he finds Claudia asleep in the family guest bedroom. He has discovered his very own Sleeping Beauty. Intrigued by the young woman, he vows to get to know her better.
[image error]Although Claudia is instantly attracted to the charismatic businessman, she knows her secret will destroy any chance they have for a future together, but Brody’s awfully hard to resist.
Meanwhile, as Gavin watches Brody and Claudia’s relationship develop, he begins to devise a plan to use the secret to his advantage. He wants full partnership in the business—something he was denied by both his brother and their deceased father—and maybe now he can finally obtain it.
Can Brody and Claudia survive the storm, or will the secrets and blackmail destroy both them and their love?
From Something More
When Claudia made her way outside, the limo was there, but the driver wasn’t. She looked around, but didn’t see him. She decided to get in and wait for him. He’d have to come back for the car sooner or later.
She opened the door and slipped inside, placing her bag on the floor. She was grateful the air conditioning was on in the car, another perk the bus didn’t have.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“Brody?” She looked up and saw him sitting next to her. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.” He moved his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. “I missed you.” He freed her hair from her ponytail and shook it out with his fingers so that it fell down her back and over her shoulders. “Much better, princess.”
She laughed because she had just thought of him as The Prince. If he only knew.
“What is it?”
“I’m happy to see you.” She giggled. “You make things much better.”
“Hard day?”
She leaned closer to him, took his face between her hands, and kissed him. At first, she moved slowly, but the way he looked at her with those smoldering eyes told her everything she needed to know. He was just as excited to see her as she was to see him.
She ran her tongue along his lips, begging for entrance. He eagerly accepted as he parted them and slipped his tongue inside her mouth. His breath was hot and his lips were hungry as he kissed her with more force than she expected. She moved her hands up and twisted her fingers in his hair, moving him closer to her.
He pulled her onto his lap, pushed her hair to the side, and kissed her neck. She could feel his excitement pressing against her hip. His erection was trapped between his stomach and her side. He shifted his hips and rubbed himself into her. She sighed against his mouth, but then he pulled away.
“Claudia.” The sound of his voice was both desperate and breathless. “I could take you right here, but that’s not what I want.”
“It isn’t?” She didn’t mean to sound disappointed.
“Let me rephrase that.” He moved her to sit beside him. “I would want nothing more than to have my way with you right here, but I don’t think either of us intended it to be that way between us the first time.”
“You think about our first time?”
“Every second of the day.” He shrugged. “I’m a guy.”
She laughed, but realized he was right. She’d gotten carried away. It was the way he looked at her, the scent of his body wash, all spice and cinnamon, that drove her crazy.
“It’s your fault,” she said. “You’re irresistible.”
“I was thinking the same thing about you.”
She shook her head and looked down. She felt his fingers on her chin in an instant, and then she was gazing into his eyes. She loved those blue depths. They were soothing and made her forget everything she had on her mind.
“You really need to take my compliments better. I speak the truth.” He kissed her. “I’ll keep telling you how perfect you are and eventually you’ll believe it.”
She would never believe it. A perfect woman wouldn’t lead a man like Brody on. A perfect woman would tell him the truth. She was far from perfect.
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Writing Utopia, One Word at a Time
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