Liz Everly's Blog, page 125

Lusting after “Vincent”

By Liz Everly

Yesterday was not just any Monday. I was in a Twitter conversation with Tiffany Reisz (yes THAT one) and Sarah Wendell (YEP) about the TV show “Beauty and the Beast”—which left us all swooning. Turns out we all loved the show. Do you remember it?

It was about “the adventures and romance of a sensitive and cultured lion-man and a crusading assistant district attorney in Manhattan, New York City,” according to IMDB. And it’s that lion-man that had us all breathless over our Twitter feeds. To this day, when I hear the name “Vincent,” my hearts speed up, just a wee little bit…

 

What is it about that sensitive, yet beasty man that had us all swooning? Was it his love of poetry? His devotion to Catherine? His soul and gut-wrenching agony of never being able to show his face in public? Or was it his mighty roar? The tenderness beneath the roar? All of that reaches into my guts and still makes me yearn, my friends.

And it says something about what we want in a romance, doesn’t it? I mean, as Tiffany said it was, indeed, the most romantic show on television. It wove in art, literature, and love into the plot beautiful ways. The only thing today remotely akin to it is “Once Upon A time,” which I watch with my daughters. It has romance, as well. But its focus is way different.

If you’ve never seen the show you can catch some episodes on TV.com.

Turns out that there is a soundtrack with Ron Perlman as “Vincent” reading poetry. And Sarah pointed me to a youtube reading, which if you have memories of this show might leave you blushing and breathless with the rest of us:

The TV show ran from 1987 to 1990. It starred Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman, airing every Friday night and I rarely missed an episode. I loved the romance and the longing in the show. I was also intrigued by the underneath the city aspect to it. Vincent and his community live in the bowels of the city and I still think about the lovely space he called home underneath and in the midst of the grit and grime. I remember beautiful hardcover books, blankets and quilts, and overstuffed chairs, which all added to the allure of Vincent.

Then there was the writing. Consider the opening lines that ran at the beginning of each show:

Vincent: This is where the wealthy and the powerful rule. It is her world, a world apart from mine. Her name is Catherine. From the moment I saw her, she captured my heart with her beauty, her warmth, and her courage. I knew then, as I know now, she would change my life forever.

Catherine: He comes from secret place, far below the city streets, hiding his face from strangers, safe from hate and harm. He brought me there to save my life; and now wherever I go, he is with me in spirit. For we have a bond stronger than friendship or love…and although we cannot be together, we will never, ever be apart.

Clutching my heart!

Thoughts?

While you’re thinking, I’m going to give a shout out to the ladies who inspired this post Tiffany Reisz, author of many books, including THE SIREN, which I read and loved.

Lady Smut’s Madeline Iva interviewed Tiffany here.

The other sparkling conversationalist of the day was Sarah Wendell, of Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. If you don’t know that blog…where’ve you been? Check it out now. I’m sure our chat is still floating around on Twitter, if you’d like to read it. Before you go, I’m giving away a copy of LIKE HONEY to one lucky commenter today. So, if you’d like to read about a sexy-spy-turned beekeeper in Scotland who meets a young widow and so on and so forth, comment away! And don’t forget to subscribe to Lady Smut. You never know who will show up here!

 

 

The Library You’re Looking For

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

I have a complicated relationship with librarians. When I was a kid, we did not get along. I never understood the contradiction of a Free Public Library that charged fees if you were late returning books. I also didn’t like people being able to tell me which books I could and could not take out a given moment. But then, I’ve never done well with people being able to tell me what I could and could not do about anything.

But as an academic and a lover of books, I adore libraries and have spent many, many hours exploring their treasures. Of course, now I know several admirable librarians and have a much better informed appreciation not only of the vast amounts of work they do (and of the regular abuse they receive from unruly patrons), but their extraordinary love of and commitment to their jobs that often makes them ideal partners for writers, particularly genre (romance) writers.

The Somerley Room at the Fox Hollow Inn

Last Friday I attended the annual Long Island Romance Writers Shining the Light on Romance Editor and Agent Luncheon. Held every year at the lovely Fox Hollow Inn in Woodbury, NY, this networking event allows writers, editors, and agents to mix and mingle and pitch…and drink champagne. This is my fifth year at the luncheon and I make attending it a priority every year regardless of my pitch plans or needs as there is always a riveting speaker with unique insights on the romance publishing industry.

This year’s guest speaker was Bette-Lee Fox, managing director of Library Journal. She is also the recipient of the 2013 RWA Vivian Stephens Industry Award. Ms. Fox’s theme was  about how today’s library is not our mother’s library. This is a good thing as I’ve no doubt I’ve pissed off the librarians of my mother’s era beyond repair. Long memories there.

LIRW President Jeannie Moon speaks with luncheon speaker Bette-Lee Fox.

The numbers Ms. Fox shared are compelling. There are 199 million public library users. In 2013, $1.55 billion was spent on acquiring materials for public libraries most of which was spent on print books followed by ebooks and DVDs. 78% of print book borrowers bought books; 73% of e-book borrowers bought books. The most requested genre of books were thrillers, followed by mysteries, which were very closely followed by romance and inspirational. 22% of borrowers bought books they’d already borrowed and read from the library; 54% bought books of an author they’d first discovered by borrowing that author’s book from the library. Ms. Fox calls this “The Showroom Effect”. I love this stat because romance writers are notorious for re-reading beloved books and we also like to own our favorites in order to keep doing so.

Public libraries, Ms. Fox said, are the public echoes of buying trends. To this end, Library Journal publishes a top 10 list of public librarians chosen titles for the month. Called “Library Reads”, this list is found in the issue on the 15th of the month. Ebooks offer a still relatively new way  for authors to get books to a world-wide audience that is thirsty for new material and there are plans to create a National E-book Month to encourage librarians to stock more e-book authors.

For the writer, these libraries and their librarians offer innovative ways to stock and promote books because they too read, watch, listen, and play. Ms. Fox highlighted the Library Journal‘s Movers and Shakers program that recognizes individuals at the cutting edge of advancing the role of libraries in patrons’ lives. “If there’s a common theme among their profiles, it’s that as much as the library is a place to go, it is also a place on the go—to wherever patrons or potential patrons are.” These are not our mother’s libraries, Ms. Fox concluded. “They are our libraries and they are taking up into the future.”

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For the Mom Who Has Everything … Get Two Men

By Alexa Day

Today is Mother’s Day in the U.S. In the spirit of the day, and in service to those of us who are still searching for the perfect last-minute gift for the woman who has everything, I’d like to dedicate this post to my mother, to her journey into the sexy world of e-books, and to her favorite erotic romance novels.

I see some of you starting to click away. (Yes, I do. If that bothers you, you might consider covering the built-in webcam with a Post-It note because if I can see you, other people can, too.) Something about the words ‘mom’ and

Your mom wants Handyman for Mother’s Day.

‘erotic romance’ that close together is off-putting for some of you. But I encourage you to stick around for a little while. Mom’s been reading romances longer than I’ve been alive — let’s just say that’s a long time. And I know for a fact that my mother isn’t the only one with a keeper shelf of erotic romances. I figure if there are moms out there writing this stuff, it makes sense to think moms are out there reading it.

Here are a few classics from Mom’s keeper shelf … um, keeper directory? Keeper hard drive? You see where I’m going. All her picks are m/m romances. She’s pretty well read in all the subgenres, but m/m holds her attention most persistently.

Joey W. Hill — Rough Canvas. By the time she found Joey W. Hill, Mom had been reading m/m for a while, but this book introduced her to the BDSM genre. Rough Canvas is number 6 in the Nature of Desire series; I’ve got the second book, Natural Law, on my own keeper shelf. If you and your mom have gotten this far without Joey’s work,

Go get some.

now’s the time to remedy that problem. The stories are scorching, the romance is touching, and it’s clear that the BDSM content is written by a woman with a true knowledge of the subject matter.

Shayla Kersten — Thirty Days. How much does Mom love Shayla Kersten? Well, let’s see. Mom keeps a spreadsheet on her computer to organize her hundreds of e-books. The books themselves are stored in various genre-related folders on her hard drive: “Interracial,” or “Younger Man,” or what have you. Shayla Kersten is the only author on Mom’s hard drive with her own dedicated folder. Thirty Days is the story of Biton and Cavan, a Dom and sub making their own way back from the pain of their individual pasts. It’s not a long story, though — pick it up with its sequel, Forever.

Claire Thompson — Handyman.  Will and Jack are opposites in a few different ways. One’s a major player on the stock market and in the bedroom, and the other, the handyman from the title, is still in the closet and mourning his wife’s death. Add to that a pretty significant age difference, and you get a story Mom loved so much that she wrote the author to ask for another installment. (Claire Thompson wrote her back, too!)

I remember the night my mom called me to ask what an e-book was. When I told her you downloaded it, she lost interest. “Why would I want to read it off the computer when I could just read an actual book?” she asked.

“Well, it isn’t for everyone,” I said.

At press time, according to her spreadsheet, my mother is now the owner of 487 e-books. I usually just get her a gift card so that she can add to her library. But if you’re looking for a stimulating gift idea that will still arrive on Mother’s Day, consider getting your mom a classic of m/m erotic romance. You might want to check first, though, to make sure she doesn’t already have the one you’re thinking of getting her.

Your mother follows Lady Smut. Shouldn’t you?

Sexy Saturday Round-up

By Liz Everly and the Lady Smut Bloggers

Hell-o, Sexy! Welcome to your Saturday, a day of the week we can all agree to love. Sit back and enjoy the blog posts we’ve found for you this week. And don’t forget to subscribe. C’mon. You know you want to.

 

From Liz Everly:

Is Facebook still useful?

Tomorrow’s sex toys.

On fan fiction.

From C. Margery Kempe:

ISBN prices have gone up — but only for small amounts (i.e. self-publishers & small press)

Reasons to be cheerful despite the disruptions of publishing

Rupert Murdoch buys Harlequin Romance: prepare to be Fox News’d

From Elizabeth:

Guys, struggling with that tent in your jeans? WikiHow is here to save you with simple steps to hide your erection.

All in the name of science. Author has sex while high on drugs.

May is National Masturbation Month! Celebrate while reading one woman’s story about how masturbation saved her life.

Be sweet to Mom on Mother’s Day by cooking up these sinfully delicious treats.

 

 

 

 

 

Stay Hungry,

Liz

Cities as Inspiration

Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne plays a role in One Night in Rome

by C. Margery Kempe

An awful lot of my stories take place in London because 1) I spend a lot of time there or have done 2) I know parts of the city well and they inspire good ideas for stories and 3) I love that city, so even when I’m not there I like to spend time visiting via my imagination. I set Swan Prince in Hyde Park and most of the Chastity Flame stories in parts of the city from the National Gallery to the Millennium Bridge.

But I’m putting the finishing touches on my new novella for Tirgearr which takes place in Rome. Ah, the eternal city! After many years of admiring the ancient world, I visited there for the first time just a couple of years ago with my friend (and fabulous poet) Alessandra as guide.

I cannot imagine not enjoying Rome but seeing the city with a Roman guide is sine qua non.

She took me to the Jewish ghetto where we had the most exquisite roasted artichoke — a flavour that lingers yet in my mouth, nutty buttery perfection. We saw the Caravaggios that never travel, hidden in small dark churches, turned a corner and stepped through a small doorway into a tiny church full of golden Baroque splendor that the outside never betrayed and she made sure I experienced that golden afternoon light that painters had sought to capture in oil and watercolors for centuries, a treasure that exists no where else.

And the food! Should I even try to describe the food? No. You have to experience it for yourself.

What’s your city? Why? What magic does it hold? What keeps you coming back?

Keep coming back to Lady Smut: or sign up for our posts. You won’t want to miss a thing.

Oh God, Yes! Yes! Yes! : Awesome Noisy Sex

Snoring husband, & artistic lover

by Madeline Iva

There is a great German film called MEN. In this film at one point wifey is unhappy because her husband is snoring.  He explains that men snore because long ago it kept the beasts away at night. What a wonderful, economical explanation!

I think that you could expand this basic theory to add that it’s a women’s job to be really loud while having sex.  Obviously her screams keep the beasts away while the couple is otherwise occupied.

That is–if the sex is good.  If it’s not good and she’s quiet, the bear comes charging out of the woods and eats them. ;>

We know what really good sex usually sounds like.  It’s often very loud, often predominantly female. In END OF THE AFFAIR Julianne Moore and Ralph Fiennes are upstairs at her house and she’s making some moany-moans of extreme pleasure while they have sex.  Suddenly her husband walks through the front door downstairs. He’s home early.  The noise she’s making are cut off immediately, but Fiennes thinks they’re cover is blown.  Wait, she says. They can still get out of this.  But he must have heard you, Fiennes points out.  But he’s not familiar with THAT sounds she replies.  And we know therefore without anything further said that she and her husband have never had good sex, ever.

Really? WHEN HARRY MET SALLY would question that a woman had never faked it — given Meg Ryan’s character’s belief that all women fake it — and they fake it believably.  How? By the noises they make, an enthusiastic uninhibited display of totally faked bliss. Yet I think that sex is the one realm where the slogan “fake it til you make it,” just doesn’t work.

I say that if you’re not getting off with a stranger or husband or wife or whatever–then the onus is on him/her/the both of you.  But it’s not your job to stamp a seal of approval on the four minutes of meh you just got.  Maybe if the guy got the tiny silent pat on the back instead of approval he’d try better the next time–even if it’s not with you.

 

We know that face–and we know that sound.

Not that all women are noisy.  Not that all women should be.  But other than a slapping headboard sound, the only other stereotypical sound of folks knocking boots is the Oh-oh-oh! of a woman heading for home base. Or the Oh God, Oh God, Oh God! Or Yes YES YES YEEEEESSSSSS! Or any variant of the three, with the guy’s (woman’s) name thrown in for good measure.

Okay, so Hollywood has told us a lot over time about noisy sex but what do we really know about it in real life?  I have three stories to share:

YOU CAN NEVER EVER GET AWAY WITH HAVING SEX &  MAKING ABSOLUTELY NO NOISE AT ALL.  If you are near other people when you start having sex and you think that they aren’t going to notice –you are so wrong.

Twice I’ve had people try this — One time I was in a hotel room with several friends when I was traveling.  We were all sharing one room to save money.  During the night I kept hearing these noises.  I thought the guy (just a friend) in bed next to me was masturbating.  The shifting of the sheet would make noise. Then stop.  Then make noise.  Then stop. It went on and on, and I was freaking out silently.  Suddenly he grabbed my pillow and threw it hard at the other bed and told them to stop it.  It was the other folks in the other bed who were trying to get it on as if we wouldn’t notice.  Oy.  While I didn’t get my pillow back, the mystery was solved and I was able to sleep finally.

Aside from noisy sheets another way that people fool themselves in thinking that they’re getting away with sex while other people are in the room is that they whisper to each other.  “Don’t make any noise okay?” That kind of stuff.   It’s a total give away, folks.  I fell asleep outside once watching meteor showers with friends. I woke because someone suddenly said “You think she’s asleep?” in a loud whisper.  That was about five seconds before they started having sex, then rolled down the hill and right over me. (!) People. Sheesh.  If you think you’re getting away with it–you’re not.  The other people in the room totally know.

WHY IT’S BETTER TO OWN THAN RENT:  At one point we rented an apartment that faced the back of the building, so we didn’t use the same entrance as the guy above us.  I thought of him as Mr. Happy Feet because every time this guy had sex, we’d hear him give a few heartfelt groans at the end and then — THEN — we’d hear feet go pounding across the floor to the opposite end of the apartment.  Bum bum bum bum bum bu-bu-bum-bum! Then silence. Then a few minutes later we’d hear the sound of running water. Every time. What was he doing up there? We couldn’t figure it out.

Turned out it wasn’t even a guy–DH finally looked at the mailboxes.  It was a woman. DH suggested that maybe her signature sex move was to run across the floor and vault onto the guy for a big finish. The next time we were in our bed and heard the wind up groans we both looked up.  Then we heard the feet and DH said into his pretend microphone, “And she sticks the landing!” I laughed hysterically.

Alas, I think the woman upstairs heard us.  It was the last time we ever heard the happy feet.

It’s interesting to think about sex noise boundaries when you live in close proximity to others.  I mean, giving voice to your pleasure is an excellent way to engage your senses during sex.  On the other hand, it’s one of the least private ways to have sex.

Should others be more tolerant of sex noise? Or is that crossing the line?

And is it something you should encourage in others (your partner say) or yourself? Or should it just come naturally?

We had another neighbor (different apartment) who lived below us.  We heard them having sex and she sounded horribly robotic to me.  Unh. Unh. Unh.

It actually wound up making me feel self-conscious about what kind of noises I made during sex.  Until then, I’d never actually listened to myself.  But then I got all twisted around because once I started listening to myself while I was having sex, any noises I made seemed, well, performative.  I caught myself modulating up and down. Arg. Then I stopped making any noise at all except for this kind of involuntary sneezy super sigh.  I finally managed to relax, just stop listening to myself and go back to whatever I was doing before.

Anyway, it made me realize I must be loud, but I just really don’t care.  It feels good to roar. And what about you readers–Does louder sex tend to equal better sex for you? Do you think people sort of ‘perform’ when they make noise while having sex? Is it okay to fake it with a little gratuitous moaning–ever?

A Touchy Subject

By Elizabeth Shore

Hello Sexies and happy hump day! I’ve just returned from a glorious vacation in Rome and was set to tell you all about it, but the planet’s nastiest cold has me in the grip of his evil ways. I need to kill this bastard off quick, so I’m bringing you an earlier post about the wonders of touch to keep you deliciously warm and cozy until I return next week. Enjoy!    

I was feeling a little old school this morning, so I fired up Salt N Pepa’s Whatta Man on my iPod as I walked to work. I like that song, and who cares if it came out, like, 20 years ago. As I bopped along, one part of the song perked my ears up. The lyrics go like this:

My man gives real loving that’s why I call him Killer

He’s not a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, he’s a thriller

He takes his time and does everything right

Knocks me out with one shot for the rest of the night

He’s a real smooth brother, never in a rush

And he gives me goose pimples with every single touch

Hmmm. Goose pimples with every single touch. Clearly her man knows exactly where and how she wants to be touched. The dudes in romance novels are blessed with this knowledge as well, never needing any instructions or guidance into where our hot buttons are, they just know it. They also know where our hot button is, and what to do with it once they strike gold. These guys are goooood. I guess that’s why they’re in romance novels. But real life? Not so simple.

Part of the challenge in teaching our partners how to have the right touch is that, well, you actually have to teach them. As in talk to them, telling them exactly what it takes to get you going. A lot of us are kind of quiet on that matter. Why? Is it just way too embarrassing to have to reveal what feels good and what’s not so hot? Is it better to just hope and pray that your guy gets it right rather than speak up and say, “yeah, that’s it. Harder. Slower. Faster. More!”

A friend of mine holds nothing back when it comes to teaching her man. She’s very direct in telling a new lover what she wants and how she wants it. When I asked her if she was ever embarrassed by having to do that, she said she wasn’t embarrassed in the least, but it’s happened that the guy didn’t necessarily like it. It wasn’t clear to her why that was although she conceded that maybe he felt emasculated by the whole thing. Like he was supposed to just somehow know everything about pleasing her because . . . well, because he’s a guy. Or something.

Honestly, it seems kind of insane to have an expectation that someone new would know exactly what to do since we all like different things. A smart smack on the rump feels sexy as hell to some and tortuous to others. How’s a guy to know? Or a gal, for that matter. Guys gotta speak up for what they want, too.

Maybe it’s the words that make things difficult. Imagine yourself saying, in the heat of the moment, “Um, you could rub my (pussy? vagina?) a little harder?” It’s so un-sexy seeming, too clinical or dry or un-romantic. How much more fun if our lovers could simply touch us where and when and how we want it. ‘Cause if they don’t do it right, and we have to say something to correct it, they might get a little, you know, touchy.

Shut up and F–k Me

By Liz Everly

A note from Liz: I’m just back from a conference and am road-weary–so I thought I’d share one of my fav posts from last year. Enjoy!

F–k used to be my favorite word. (Yes, the f-bomb, can’t really write the word here, without setting off the blog censor alerts.) It is with some regret that I acknowledge that it is no longer my word of choice. I sometimes wonder why it doesn’t speak to me the way it used to—is it because I am a mother and need to watch my language around my children? Is it because I am turning into an aging prude? I have given it much thought and am pleased to report it is neither one of those seemingly obvious possibilities.

Here is the thing I used to say about f–k. It is so versatile. You can use it so many different ways. So many different meanings. It’s wonderful for that. When you are a word person, the different ways in which you can use certain words can keep you entertained for hours. “F–k you!” “What the f–k?” “F–k, I forgot my purse.”

“What a f–king bitch. “

Photo by Dollen

My favorite is “Just shut up and f–k me.”

Photo by Dollen

It used to be there was a bit of a shock value in it, as well. Imagine me as a sweet-faced 18-year-old saying, “Who the f–k do you think you are?” (This would have been, what, 1981 and it was still a bit unused, especially in mixed company. I said it to a group of steel-mill workers kicking back drinking beer and putting their feet on my aunt’s new table. One guy almost choked on his beer.) Now, think of me as a mature woman saying it to the same group of men. They’d probably just shrug me off or turn around and say, “F–ck off, lady.”

Now it seems to me that the word is overused. Gratuitously used. Let’s face it, there really is no shock value in it anymore. And I think that it’s become a bit of a lazy way of writing and talking. I recently read a book by a very good friend, a hard-working writer that is much more successful than I am. It was a nonfiction book and a good story. But the word f–k stopped me dead in my tracks. It seemed out of place—I have never known this Southern gentleman to use it in my company and I wondered why it was in his book.

I still love the word, don’t get me wrong; it is just no longer my favorite word. I love the way it feels in my mouth, the way your teeth have to slightly bite into your lip to get the fffff sound and the way in which it kind of moves back to your throat for that harsh KKKKK.  Ffffffuuuuucccckkkkkk. Nothing quite feels like it.

So, I am not railing against the word, and would fight for anybody’s right to use whatever word they want. I am just saying that it’s not always the word to use. A little restraint is called for sometimes. In good writing, it’s what you leave out that can be the most compelling part of the story and I think that applies for word use, as well.  So, when you use it, you feel it, it packs an emotional punch. You know what’s happening. The readers feel that. I think that if we overuse it, readers get kind of immune to it. Maybe I am wrong. God knows, I’ve been wrong before.

These thoughts might seem odd coming from writer of erotic romance , where the f–k is the key and no matter how well-crafted the story, it’s a major reason why we are there, both reader and writer. Will she get laid? And how will it be? Will he get to f–k her and will it be as good as he think it will be?  But over the past few months, both as a reader and writer of erotic romance, I get to see the word and use it a lot, myself. There are times, my friend, when only f—ck will do. Yet, a stretching oneself to find a new vocabulary is something we should all aspire to, maybe most especially those of us interested in quality erotic romance.

Any effing thoughts? heh.

Beyond Resistance

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

I’m a glommer. Hello, my name is Kiersten and I glom. When I discover something I like, a food, a piece of clothing, a new musician, a new book series, I have to drown myself in it till I’m saturated in its bliss. This is a fairly common malaise among readers of romance novels particularly. We know what we like when we find it and boy howdy, do we want more. And more. And more.

My recent reading glom is Kit Rocha’s Beyond series, which currently includes Beyond Shame, Beyond Control, Beyond Pain, the novella Beyond Temptation, Beyond Jealousy, and the novella Beyond Solitude. This erotic romance series is set in a dystopian future where main society is a conservative nest of hypocrisy called Eden “where only the righteous are allowed to live.” Surrounding Eden are Sectors One through Five, areas which house “the remnants of a former society that was destroyed by solar storms.”

Each sector has its own distinct criminal personality. Our “heroes” reside in Sector Four and are the members of the O’Kane Family, a gang headed by notorious bad ass Dallas O’Kane. O’Kane’s are made, not born, and those who become part of the family are marked with ink on their wrists to declare their allegience to the world. This also protects them out in the dangerous sectors as O’Kane ink is recognizable to everyone because this is a very dangerous world.

For me, dystopian series rise and fall on the world-building. The world of the Beyond series is intricately woven and each new book reveals another complex layer. Think Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome meets Sons of Anarchy with a shade of Streets of Fire but without the overt misogyny and sexism.

It’s a violent, hedonistic world whose inhabitants waste no time in niceties but indulge themselves without judgment or shame. But they are also a tightly knit group of characters who find freedom in being claimed first as an O’Kane and then by the lovers they’ve yet to enjoy. It’s deeply erotic, at times deliciously filthy to the point that I recommend you have husband/wife/partner/significant other close at hand while reading—or, at the very least, be sure to stock fresh batteries. With four books and two novellas already in the canon and more scheduled to come, the Beyond series keeps raising the stakes and with each new installment becomes increasingly compelling.

If I had one caution about the  series, it’s that there is much of which to keep track. As is my wont with series that involve so many moving parts, I’m already lost among the cast of characters. It’s not that the men and women are interchangeable, each have their own character quirks which make them individual, but perhaps rather that while there may be many ways a kick-ass dystopian woman (or man, for that matter) can be described, my visual orientation struggles to keep up with them all.

There are a few who stand out as they are the crux of the series and appear in every book, namely Dallas O’Kane himself and his queen, Lex, and tattoo-artist Ace who inks practically everyone who shows up on the page. But already at Book Four, I need a flow chart to remember who did what to whom and when and where. This is a good sign in that there’s a lot going on to fully flesh out this world. But I’ve broken up with series before because I couldn’t remember who was whom (Immortals After Dark, Dark Hunters) and worse because I stopped caring to try. I’m far from that point yet with the Beyond series and in fact was annoyed to realized I’d glommed my way to the end of the available material and the publication date for Book Five has yet to be announced, but it’s a concern.

But not enough of one for me to be able to resist the lure of Sector Four. If you’re looking for an erotic series with high stakes, sizzling sex, and layered world-building, go beyond yourself with Kit Rocha and the O’Kanes.

Follow Lady Smut. We go beyond all sorts of things.

The ‘O’ in ‘Team’: Would You Hire a Sex Coach?

You could go all the way. Heyo!

By Alexa Day

As part of my Post-Tax Clutter Purge and Shred Festival, I gathered up a lot of my old magazines to send to various magazine-seeking charities. Among this year’s odd discoveries were a stash of Cosmopolitans (not sure how those got here), a Playgirl (I know exactly how that got here), a People Sexiest Man Alive issue with Pierce Brosnan on the cover, and the June 2012 issue of GQ.

I got rid of the Cosmos, stashed the Playgirl and the People, and sat down with the GQ. I always enjoy my time with GQ. It’s nice to keep track of high fashion for men because real life is not providing me with useful examples of what erotic romance characters wear. But the June 2012 issue answered two questions for me and raised a third.

Question 1: What is this fascination with Michael Fassbender? The June 2012 issue features a lovely interview with Mr. Fassbender, who is a better looking fellow than I had first supposed. I think I was wrongly blaming him for whatever is now happening to the X-Men movie franchise. I hope he’ll forgive me for that someday.

Question 2: Where has Mark Strong been all my life? Mr. Strong is in the June 2012 issue, too, along with a handful of iconic movie villains. Big as life, with a safety pin in his mouth. He’s been right in front of me, apparently. I spent a little time imagining how the words “right in front of you” would sound in that voice. Then I had a really cold beverage and returned to my reading.

Question 3: Would I hire a sex coach to watch me have sex in the comfort and privacy of my home and then help me out with some pointers? Here’s a link to the article I read about Eric Amaranth. Check it out, along with the best headline ever.

Would I? Would you? Think about it.

Oh, come on. If you had an answer that quickly, you didn’t really think about it. Think about it.

Tab A in the slot formation.

First, let’s look at this in a general sense. I don’t mind telling you that I don’t know everything there is to know about sex. In fact, I would shy away from people who told me they did know everything there is to know. I’m delighted to report that there’s more for me to know and that the body of knowledge gets bigger every day. I keep a reading list and a little library here. I want to achieve my best possible performance sexually, and why not? I mean, I’m not putting any pressure on myself (heyo!). I just wonder if it’s possible to have more than what I have right now, and I think that’s a nice thing to wonder about.

But would I want a coach right here on the sidelines? Do I want that sort of practical hands-on and hands-off (mine on, his off) study?

I honestly don’t know. Seriously, I can’t answer that question. With the right partner, it might make for quite the experience. Even without a partner, it still has the potential to be fascinating.

And let’s consider our alternatives. There’s book learnin’, which is spectacular but has its limits. There’s personal experience, which is as limited as the person; bedding Tom only teaches you how to bed Tom, and only as well as he knows at the time. It leaves much to learn about bedding Dick and Harry. It also leaves out the things Tom doesn’t know but would like to know if he knew about them.

On top of that, there’s the lure of knowledge for knowledge’s sake. The world offers no more seductive whisper than this: “There’s so much more to learn.”

(Darn you, Mark Strong. Darn you to heckfire.)

So would I? Would you? Let me know what you think.

And remember: there’s no ‘I’ in Lady Smut. Follow us and see.