Liz Everly's Blog, page 47
September 20, 2016
Whip It Good
When a problem comes along You must whip it Before the cream sets out too long You must whip it When something’s goin’ wrong You must whip it – Devo
You know how it is when you’ve got a day off from work or other obligations and you find yourself with an entire day to yourself? Yay! you mentally cheer. You can get an enormous laundry list of things accomplished – including the laundry itself! – and you’re imbued with a sense of purpose. But then…well, remember that saying about the best laid plans? Without warning your motivation dries up, you realize you’re exhausted, the weather outside is crap, and nothing seems better than watching a movie or three and deciding the chores can stuff it.
I found myself in just that situation last Sunday. I was going to do laundry but every machine in my building was in use. I could have gone for a walk but the clouds looked ominous. I could have read a book – my tbr pile is scraping the sky – but a sense of drowsiness warned me that my eyes would start drooping after about page 2. So instead I plopped down on the couch and rented a juicy little French flick called Alice, ou les désirs. A teaser photo for the main character showed her dressed up in a tight, black leather number complete with studs and a collar. Awesome! I was hooked (just like she was!).
As it turned out, Alice was a sexual awakening film focused on the main character’s introduction to, and exploration of, a lifestyle of kink. Well, sign me up! It all started with Alice confronting her loser husband at a dinner party hosted by Alice’s cousin, Léa. Alice decides she’s had enough of him and informs him she’s leaving. Problem: she has no place to go. Cousin Léa to the rescue. Subsequent scenes reveal Léa letting Alice know that she’s really, really into kink. Wide-eyed Alice is at first stunned, then intrigued, then, as the film goes on, part of the scene. Léa dresses Alice in sexy unmentionables and takes hot photos of her, both inside the apartment and then eventually – as Alice becomes bolder – outside on the street. So far, so good.
Alice takes her burgeoning interest to an online chatroom where she meets a Dom who insists she call him Master. Being a good little submissive, Alice is quick to obey. There’s a pretty hot scene with Master telling Alice to spread her legs, touch herself, and imagine that he’s whipping her. This really gets her going, and she loves him telling her what to do, eventually bringing herself to orgasm and telling Master all about it. Nice.
Eventually Léa lets Alice know that a younger guy, Rémy – a student of Alice’s, as it turns out (she’s a math teacher) – is also into the kink lifestyle and wants to get it on with Alice. She’s initially outraged since she could lose her job over sex with a student (anyone’s thoughts going to Mary Kay Letourneau at this point? Yeah, me too). But Léa poo-poos Alice’s outrage and convinces her it’ll be fun. Alice relents and a long sexy scene follows in which Rémy and Léa dress up Alice in a tight black dress with a collar and leash and parade her in the street. Then they take her to a classroom, and (this next scene’s my favorite) here’s where the ultimate hotness takes place. Alice has to fully undress, stand in front of the blackboard and solve a complex math equation while Rémy is behind her, touching and kissing her everywhere. Her mind’s getting blown and it’s impossible to focus, but Rémy’s in full Dom mode and firmly insists that she keep at the math equation. This, my friends, was awesome. I loved the contrast between fully dressed, bossy Dom and naked, submissive, highly aroused Alice.
An interesting focus of this particular BDSM journey was the emphasis on whipping. There were several whipping scenes yet nary a paddle to be found. Even spanking was a rare commodity. So what’s writer Cécile Calvet doing getting us all whipped into a frenzy? I did a bit of research to see what peeps in the know are saying about whipping vs paddling. A detailed book, In Praise of the Whip by Niklaus Largier, offers a comparison between religious and erotic whipping, but that wasn’t quite what I was after. Ultimately I found someone in a kink chatroom who offers up this perspective: whipping, flaggelation, and paddling are all a hot turnon, it just depends on if you’re into the sting or the thud.
What say you, dear readers? To sting or to thud – that is the question. Or does it even matter? For those into kink, let us know what you think.
Elizabeth Shore writes both contemporary and historical erotic romance. Her newest book is an erotic historical novella, Desire Rising, from The Wild Rose Press. Other releases include Hot Bayou Nights and The Lady Smut Book of Dark Desires.
Reality TV Done Right with Slow TV
Like being there, but warmer and closer to your kitchen.
By Alexa Day
Slow TV has been around for years, apparently, but I heard about it for the first time a couple of weeks ago.
Lunchtime conversation with some learned colleagues turned to what each of us was watching on television. The summer is a tough time for me in this regard. Basically, I’m watching Law & Order reruns until The Walking Dead comes back on. Project Runway returned last week to break things up a little, but that’s a new addition.
I’m trying to keep up with the discussion when one of my colleagues mentions Slow TV. Born in Norway in 2009, Slow TV basically shows an ordinary event in real time. In this instance, “ordinary” includes a train trip from Bergen to Oslo, or people knitting, or a cruise. Slow TV is, I suppose, so named because the subject matter does not aspire to be terribly exciting, and because the shows tend to be long. The train ride to Oslo runs over 7 hours, the length of the trip in real time.
Incredulous, my colleague asked, “Who’s watching that?”
I started watching it on Netflix this past weekend. It’s amazing.
At the outset, I’ve never been to Norway, so the virtual train ride was a bit of tourism for me. I don’t need anything flashy. I love traveling with the locals.
It’s a long way to Oslo, friends.
Slow TV is a bare bones, no frills affair. On the Bergensbanen, the camera is pointed through the front window of the train. You hear people milling around and the conductor’s announcements, and something pops up on screen to show you which station you’re arriving at, but that’s really all there is to it. The track winds ahead of you, through tunnels, past stations and other trains, alongside the highway, with the countryside sliding by. It’s like actually being on the train, which is an absolutely perfect place to write or read or do all those things I would otherwise be doing if I weren’t watching Law & Order for hours at a time.
Remember the buzz about the Amtrak writers’ residency on rails? Well, as of last weekend, I have a writers’ residency on rails right here at my house, with my own bathroom.
Before you sniff at this, consider that Slow TV in one form or another has been around, right here in America for a pretty long time. The Yule Log — the footage of a blazing fireplace with a soundtrack of holiday music (or without, if you want) — has been on American televisions since the 60s. And what is Slow TV, really, but the Cat Sitter videos for humans?
Best of all, the absence of distractions presented by Slow TV is good for the imagination. There will always be times when I need to absorb other stories and check out those weird, quirky little movies and shows that Netflix supplies in such abundance. (Another quick recommendation — the stark, ruthless Charlie Victor Romeo.)
But between the day job and my regularly scheduled programs, my muse needs some space to breathe … and to speak. The muse loves the train as much as he loves the airport. Every stop presents its own possibilities.
And is there anything hotter than quiet time with the muse, with hours and hours of possibilities?
Follow Lady Smut, where things worth doing are worth doing slowly.
September 19, 2016
Hot Picks for Fall
by Kiersten Hallie Krum
Despite the 80 degree days here in New Jersey, Autumn is definitely beginning to creep its way in, thank sweet baby Jesus. I actually lowered the two kitchen windows yesterday because the nights have been too cold to keep them open. (Other windows will stay open till the first frost. What can I say? I like a cool house.)
Those of you with children have already been through the hell that is September back-to-school. I heard more whinges about school forms and activity sign ups from my parented friends in the last three weeks then I can ever remember hearing before. I gather email has made things worse, not better, on that front. Bless.
Being child-free, my September angst has taken the form of parenting my parents in various, fluctuating ways. Such is the course for this era of my life, as it often is for many people. In these times of angst and declining temps, we need something to heat up the home fires and keep us burning in the right ways. Can I get an amen?!
Fear not! I am here for you with a pair of hot reads for the fall.
This is the first book in Crane’s new biker series for Loveswept, The Devil’s Keepers. Rooted deep in the Louisiana bayou, the Devil’s Keepers biker gang first had a cameo in Crane’s novel, Make You Burn, part of The Deacons of Bourbon Street series, and one of my top picks for 2015. I’ve personally been hot and heavy for this series ever since (this may have included some author nagging), mostly because I’m a sequel bait whore, but also because my biker book jones is motoring on hard and strong (much like those bikers), fueled by such excellent fare as DEVIL’S HONOR. It’s a reunion romance too, so I’m essentially in Romancelandia hog heaven on multiple fronts.
Available November 1, 2016. Click image to preorder!
Look! A blurb!
Merritt Broussard grew up knowing she had two choices if she stayed in Lagrange: run with the outlaws or get left in their dust. So she got the hell out, leaving behind a bad-boy biker and scorching memories of their summer fling. Now Merritt’s back, with trouble on her tail, and the sergeant-at-arms of the Devil’s Keepers is the one person she can still trust. But Greeley isn’t the boy she remembers. He’s harder now, more dangerous—and even more alluring.
Joseph “Greeley” Shaw loves two things: his bike and his club. At eighteen, he escaped a rough life, found the Devil’s Keepers on the wrong side of a bad weekend, and never looked back. Greeley swore to live and die by their code: Devil’s Keepers first, Devil’s Keepers forever. No one comes between him and his brothers—except for the tantalizing woman who touched his soul. Greeley’s the kind of man who honors his commitments . . . and Merritt is one promise he’s determined to keep.
Merritt returns to Lagrange after the death of her father, a man who’d spent most of her life as the back-door doctor for the Devil’s Keepers–and sheltering Merritt from the same. She still managed to fall in love with Greeley one hot summer after college ended and before leaving for an east coast law school and life far from home. Now that she’s back, she’s desperate to avoid Greeley, now sergeant-at-arms for the club, and the ex-lover who’d promised that if she returned to the parish after leaving him wounded and broken-hearted (that very much not being typical biker response) he’d either claim her or kill her.
Faced with a major crossroad in her life and pursued by a man who refuses to comprehend the meaning of “no”, Merritt has come home despite knowing what will happen should Greeley discover she’s there. It’s not long before he does just that. Cue the sexy hijinks and emotionally wrenching self-discovery, all of which makes DEVIL’S HONOR typical Crane fare. Once again, as in her EDGE series, her world-building is spot on. The sultry Louisiana environs may seem drawn with familiar strokes, but Crane makes them feel freshly painted with a tangible feel so that you’ll want to swim in all that sticky bayou heat.
One of the things I love that’s a staple in Crane’s books is how the hero softens without losing a hint of his badass-ness (I swear that’s a word). Greeley starts the book knowing full well how much Merritt means to him–and then she destroys him. He hates that he let himself be so vulnerable to anyone, much less to a woman, talking about a future together while she was planning her escape. He’s not about to let that happened to him again just because she’s run home with trouble on her bones and grief in her heart. Despite his deep resentment and simmering anger, faced with Merritt in the flesh, Greeley can’t resist that same pull she wrapped him up in the first time around–and this time, he’s not letting her go. The journey he takes to be what they both need so they can become the unit they were meant to be is one you shouldn’t miss. DEVIL’S HONOR is super sexy hot and emotionally wrenching with moments of humor sprinkled like sips of Jack D, and enough sequel bait to make you wish the calendar would hurry the eff up and so you can get to the next one. I mean, just look at the covers for the books yet coming our way!
Click on image to preorder!
Click on image to preorder!
Strewth. DEVIL’S HONOR will be released November 1, 2016, Devil’s Mark on January 3, 2017, and Devil’s Own on May 16, 2017 (*MAY?!*), but you can pre-order all three of them now.
INDECENT PROPOSAL by Katee Roberts
Trading the heat of the bayou for the cool of New England brings us to Robert’s dark romance, Irish mob series, The O’Malleys. INDECENT PROPOSAL is the latest installment of the series, and, as usual, Roberts delivers with a twisty, layered, story of what happens when the Irish and the Russian mobs butt up against one another–and when two of their children inconveniently fall in love.
Look! A blurb!
Greed. Ambition. Violence. Those are the “values” Olivia Rashidi learned from her Russian mob family-and the values she must leave behind for the sake of her daughter. When she meets Cillian O’Malley, she recognizes the red flag of his family name . . . yet she still can’t stop herself from seeing the smoldering, tortured man. To save her family, Olivia sets out to discover Cillian’s own secrets, but the real revelation is how fast-and how hard-she’s falling for him.
Plagued by a violent past, Cillian is more vulnerable than anyone realizes. Anyone except Olivia, whose beauty, compassion, and pride have him at “hello,” even if she’s more inclined to say good-bye to an O’Malley. While his proposal of sex with no strings seems simple, what he feels for her isn’t, especially after he learns that she belongs to a rival crime family. Cillian knows that there is no escape from the life, but Olivia may be worth trying-and dying-for . . .
Click on image to buy!
First of all, THAT COVER. Cillian wears those tight vests in the story too, so this is definitely a case of the cover reflecting the goodness within. And, hel-lo goodness!
Olivia is the bastard child of the now dead head of the Russian mafia. Her scary half-brother wants her (and her daughter) back in the familial fold to fulfill his deathbed promise to his father while keeping them under his control–whether Olivia likes it or not. And she really doesn’t like it at all. The last thing she needs is to tangle with the brooding son of the Irish mob, with his sexy vests and rolled up sleeves out of which glimpses of his many tats can sometimes been seen. But Olivia is losing her battle to resist the charmer who makes dirty alley sex seem somehow pure and special. All this while she tries to keep her enforcer ex from laying claim to their daughter–and falls deeper and deeper into the lure of Irish eyes.
After the death of his younger brother, Cillian has done an about face in his life–not that his family has noticed. Gone from drunken, brawling lout to tortured, loner accountant, Cillian has slowly been taking up maintenance of his family’s legitimate enterprises–and those books less open to the light of day. His only solace are the hours he spends at the local pub sipping apple juice and sparring with Olivia. He’s seen her hard veneer crack, revealing the soft, welcoming woman who is the real draw to Cillian’s guilt-ridden soul. But the wrong marriage of mob families has already ripped The O’Malley’s apart and hooking his future with an enemy’s sister is a sure way for Cillian to find himself equally ejected from the family.
Like Crane, Roberts uses her setting as it’s own character, wrapping Cillian and Olivia’s story in the dark alleys and mansions of Boston, it’s unforgiving streets offering both succor and jeopardy whether it’s the open lawns of the Boston Common or the opulence of Beacon Hill or the shadowy nooks of Southie.
Olivia and Cillian have been sparking since they first clashed in The Wedding Pact. Olivia knows all too well the dangers of being deep with a mob family and is not eager to jump feet first into another one, buy Cillian is unlike any man in her experience, treating her with gentleness and affection when she least expects it. Cillian’s demons haven’t let him rest since he watched his brother bleed out in the street. The only quiet in Olivia’s presence and that makes her worth any risk she might bring with her–be it from her family or his.
Click on image to preorder!
An Indecent Proposal is currently available and there’s more dark, twisty romance goodness coming in the new year as Forbidden Promises, The O’Malley’s Book Four, is scheduled to release next May (again with the May?!) sporting a cover that drove me to ask Roberts where her Forever Romance publisher was finding these guys and, more importantly, are they single?!
Forbidden Promises will feature a runaway O’Malley as Sloan O’Malley flees her father’s machinations for her future toa cottage by the sea…never knowing her new, surly neighbor is a hit man (named Jude. How awesome is that name?!) with a vendetta against all things Sheridan, the competing Irish mob family whose queen is married to Sloan’s brother Teague (of The Marriage Contract).
So settle in, cozy up, and keep hot and bothered with these prime choices from a pair of authors burning up Romancelandia this fall.
Follow Lady Smut. We’ll promise to keep your home fires burning.
Writer, singer, editor, traveler, tequila drinker, and cat herder, Kiersten Hallie Krum avoids pen names since keeping her multiple personalities straight is hard enough work. She writes smart, sharp, and sexy romantic suspense. Her debut romantic suspense novel Wild on the Rocks is now available. Visit her website at www.kierstenkrum.com and find her regularly over sharing on various social media via @kierstenkrum.
All titles reviewed in this post were provided to the reviewer by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
September 18, 2016
Servant of the Undead, erotic zombie horror free read
Isabelle Drake’s Servant of the Undead
If you’re new to this serial, you can start with Part 1, “Do it.”
Part 19: “That’s more like it library boy.”
“What happens when we’re done? To me?” Hayden spoke over the bits of Rachelle’s conversation that drifted into the kitchen from the other room.
Mattie continued moving her fingertips across her breasts, playing with her nipples. “If I were you, I guess I’d want to know that too.”
“So tell me,” he asked, trying to ignore the truth that his cock was already hard.
She leaned forward and whispered, “Well, you see, it kind of depends.”
“On what?”
A bright flash of green passed through in her eyes. Hayden winced from the pain of his own excitement.
“You know I’m not wearing any panties, right?” She smirked, then leaned back and crossed her arms right underneath her breasts, shoved them up, her tight nipples straining against the fabric. One quick tug and those breasts would be in full view.
“On what?” he asked again.
A hard smile pulled on her mouth then she mouthed, no panties.
Of course, she wasn’t going to answer his question. Bitch.
Hayden did his best to ignore her comment, but the image of her bare pussy wouldn’t leave. “Fine.” He shrugged. “Let’s go. Follow your fucking map.” Hayden pulled his gaze away from Mattie’s body as he called into the other room. “Rachelle, you sure you want to do this?”
There was a pause in her phone conversation, then, she called back. “What, are you kidding? Of course.”
Mattie pulled her coat closed then moved to the hall. “Do you have some boots, Rachelle? A heavy coat? It’s going to be really cold and we’ll probably have to walk through some woods.”
Rachelle’s reply, Good idea, I’ll be back in a few was followed more pieces of her phone conversation and the thud of her feet across the wood floors.
As soon as the door slammed shut, Mattie’s coat was on the floor, and she was on him, grabbing his belt. When her fingers tangled, he unbuckled it. With one motion, she shoved his pants and briefs down. She grabbed his dick, caressed it, gently running her cold fingers up and down his warm skin. “If you hurry, she won’t have to walk in on us.”
The kettle’s shrill scream sounded. Hayden scrambled to shut off the flame. “Turn around.”
Pivoting on the toes of her boots, she looked over her shoulder. “That’s more like it, library boy.”
“Don’t call me that.” He lifted her skirt and positioned his cock between her ass cheeks. “Hold on to the counter.”
Without worrying about whether or not he hurt her, he impaled her with a single sharp drive. She was tight, but her body accepted his full, hard length. He backed out and plunged in again. She bucked, encouraging him to pound into her and he did. Flickers of the constant sexual fire that she’d lit in him flamed and tore through his limbs in a fierce and angry blaze. He pumped his dick into her pussy with quick, remorseless thrusts, grabbing her hips, digging his fingers into her cool flesh. His cock got bigger, his sac tight, and she grunted as he ground into her.
Tremors rolled over her body, and he felt the walls of her vagina squeeze, starting to pull the cum from his dick. The last few thrusts were vicious and fierce, almost to the point of pain, but he couldn’t control himself, didn’t really want to, and he fell into the dark bliss of the mind-numbing physical release. The pleasure died as quickly as it begun.
He withdrew, pulled down her skirt then adjusted his own clothes.
Mattie looked him up and down as she adjusted the bindings covering her breasts. “Well done, researcher.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” he asked, getting past her.
She picked up her jacket and followed him into the living room. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Research.”
“I write for a tabloid newspaper. That’s not research.”
She kicked the back of his calf, and he stumbled until he grabbed the edge of the couch.
“You’re so smart, Hayden,” she said after a husky laugh. “I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out.”
He looked over his shoulder at her.
“What I want from you,” she said.
He pointed to his dick then moved as far from her as possible, stopping beside the picture window that looked out onto the street.
She zipped up her coat and folded her arms across her chest, a sold wall of stealth and wickedness. “A man like you, with so much to offer a woman and you think fucking is all I want?”
He looked out at the night. Rows of white lights blinked back at him. Snow lay heaped in corners, heavy and dense, turning into shadows as the sun set on the slow-moving city. “I don’t care what you want,” he said, watching yet another plow shove its way down the street.
“You ought to.”
Rachelle swung into the room, the giant fur wrapped around her body, Bean boots swinging beneath the hem. “You guys aren’t ready?” She glanced between them.
Mattie swept over and shoved Hayden toward the hall. “Get ready, Hayden.” She wrapped her arm around Rachelle’s shoulders, kissed her on top of the head, then took her hand to lead her to the kitchen. “I’ll make us some tea and make sure everything is taken care of out here.”
The sight of the two of them, hand in hand, narrowed Hayden’s focus to only two things. Getting what he wanted—something fresh to give Bob so he could get that something in return—and what he needed—a way to erase Mattie from of his and Rachelle’s life.
***
Want more? The next part will be here next Sunday. Or, you can come over to the Servant of the Undead Wattpad page and read more for free right now. Unfamiliar with Wattpad? It’s an online community for readers and writers. Its filled with free fiction of all kinds. It’s easy to log in and get started; you can use your Facebook account.
Until next time, follow Lady Smut, we’re always here to inform, entertain, and keep you up to date.
***
Isabelle Drake writes erotica, erotic romance, urban fantasy, and young adult thrillers. Best Friends Never, her newest release is the first in the Cherry Grove dark YA series.
September 17, 2016
Sexy Saturday Round Up
What a week it’s been! Are you ready to relax and enjoy your Saturday? I know I am. Here this week on Sexy Saturday Round Up we’ve got an assortment of fun and fantastic just for you. Dive in and enjoy.
September 16, 2016
How to get published in anthologies
First let me start by saying this is not a definitive guide to how to get published in anthologies, but a highly subjective guide based on my editing over 60 anthologies, and now being the Best Women’s Erotica of the Year series editor for Cleis Press, and having my own work published in over 100 of them. Why am I sharing this on Lady Smut? Because writing erotic short stories for anthologies is how I got my start, and how many in the erotica and erotic romance genre have broken in. It’s not for everybody, especially if you think only in novel length plots, but what anthology writing credits can do is give your work visibility and gain you new readers, boost morale, connect you with other writers (and editors and agents, who may be reading and looking for their next big author) and earn you a little extra cash. My anthologies are on bookstore shelves across the country and a few around the world; several have been translated into German. That means that your short story may be read by someone far, far away who, if they like it enough, may start following you online, eager to read every word that follows the end of your anthology tale.
Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1
Numerous erotica and romance novelists have gotten their start by publishing shorter fiction in anthologies. Delilah Night, whose work I published in my erotic romance anthology Irresistible, put out her first solo novel, Capturing the Moment, this year. She described getting her first acceptance letter for an anthology this way: “I actually found out that my story had been accepted into Irresistible because I was following Rachel Kramer Bussel on Twitter. She said that she had three stories with Jewish characters, and I thought *hmmmm.* An hour later I got the email. I screamed, grabbed my husband, and may have cried.” Jade A. Waters, whose novel The Assignment, the first in her erotic romance trilogy Lessons in Control, will be published in December by Carina Press, got her first byline in the genre in my anthology The Big Book of Orgasms. There are countless paths toward book deals, but having previous writing credits bolsters your visibility and can be impressive to publishers because they know your work is already “out there” and being read.
Jade A. Waters’ first novel, The Assignment
I also organize readings at bookstores, like our upcoming Best Women’s Erotica of the Year reading January 31, 2017 at Skylight Books in Los Angeles, for my anthologies, giving authors the opportunity to read their words aloud to a live audience, which I find an invaluable experience for finding out what truly connects with readers. Often, local bookstore patrons will attend, who may have never heard erotica read aloud before. You never know who will show up to a reading, and often your words will stick with audiences long after they’ve heard them.
Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 2
Plus, it can often be easier and faster to get a short story published than a longer work. Generally, it takes about a year to a year and a half from submission to publication. It’s also exciting. I too cried when my first short story, “Monica and Me,” got published, and the thrill of seeing my name in a book has never gotten old. It’s also been a stepping stone to a career as an anthology editor I never imagined when I sat down to pen that first story.
So, with the caveat that short stories aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, for those who are interested, I’m sharing my top five pieces of advice on how to better your chances of getting published in an anthology. Please keep in mind that an anthology editor may be inundated with hundreds of submissions and only able to select a very small percentage of them. This means that, simply based on the numbers, not everyone is going to get accepted. Don’t take it personally; if your story gets rejected, send it back out, or polish it and see if you can tweak or extend it. Whatever you do, don’t give up on it because you don’t know all the variables at play that went into an editor’s decision.
Right now, I’m aiming to get 500 submissions to my call for Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 3 (December 1 deadline), even though I only have room for between 20 and 30 stories, depending on length. Why? Because I want to publish as many authors I’ve never worked with as I can from around the world, and want to offer my readers as much novelty, variety and creativity as possible. The best way for me to do that is to draw from a wide pool. Please don’t let that discourage you, though; in the past, if I had too many wonderful stories that simply wouldn’t fit within my allotted work count for an anthology, I’ve taken the surplus and fashioned some of them into a new anthology idea based around a theme that’s cropped up. I’m also editing the flash fiction BDSM anthology The Big Book of Submission, Volume 2 (January 10 deadline), which will contain 69 stories, three times the usual number I have room for. You can find many more calls for submissions at the Erotica Readers & Writers Association Author Resources section, and also follow publisher Sexy Little Pages for their calls.
Onto my writing advice:
Read the guidelines fully
This rule should go without saying, but with every single anthology I edit, I receive submissions outside the stated word count, not focused on the theme or otherwise outside the rules I’ve set down in the call. My calls tend to be very long (most by other editors are shorter), but that’s because over the twelve years I’ve been editing anthologies, I’ve honed in on the exact what I’m looking for (except for plot and content; with those, I want to be surprised!). What I try to do with my very detailed calls for submissions is save both authors and myself time. Will I read your story even if you submit it single spaced when I require it to be double spaced? Yes, but for every small adjustment I have to make to submissions, that’s time taken away from reading them. One major point: only submit your story once. Don’t consider your submission a rough draft, a suggestion or in any way unfinished. Yes, an editor will be editing it if it’s accepted, but it looks bad and is insulting to an editor’s time and professionalism to submit a piece, have it accepted and edited, then completely rewrite it and expect them to the do all that work over again. Submit the final, polished, amazing, proofread (see last item) story you’d want to see published with the byline you want to use. Following the guidelines shows you want to be taken seriously.
Make your writing stand out
Considering what I stated above, that editors may be facing hundreds of submissions, think about how to make yours stand out. For instance, when I edited Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica, I received many more excellent submissions than I could include in the book. Since the theme was sex toys, I read many stories that focused on the same type of sex toy used in a similar way. That’s not to say those stories were bad, but simply that I couldn’t include more than one lest my readers get bored. Some of the stories that stood out as unique were ones like “A Tale of Two Toys” by Chris Komodo, about dueling remote control vibrators, “My Life as a Vibrator” by Livia Ellis, told from the point of view of a vibrator, from factory shelf to being used by lusty women, as well as stories that employed household objects as erotic aids, such as “Icy Bed” by J. Crichton. Obviously, you can’t know in advance what kinds of stories will be your competition, but you can think outside the box. Now, I’m not saying that you should set your story on Mars or some fictional planet if you hate sci fi just for the sake of standing out. I’m saying that if you have a brainstorm that’s off the beaten path, or know about a subculture that not many people do, use that to your advantage. For instance, I used my many years playing in chess tournaments as fodder for my story “Check, Mate” in Alison Tyler’s erotica anthology G Is for Games.
Grab the reader’s attention, but don’t give away too much immediately
When I’m reading story submissions for my anthologies, I especially look for stories that pull me in with an amazing first line and keep me frantically reading to find out what happens next. That’s not to say each story needs to have a fast pace; in fact, in addition to variety in terms of sex acts, sexual orientation, setting, tense, and age and race of characters, I look for stories with varying paces so readers get a wide range of types of stories. But I tend to prefer stories that keep me guessing just a little, not necessarily with a plot twist, but that are full of enough drama to make me keep reading. Sometimes people assume that “erotica” simply means “sex story,” and that’s not the case. A short story, erotic or not, still has to have a beginning, middle and end (no matter the chronology), and the ones I tend to select are intriguing from the start and stay intriguing.
Have fun with the theme
Not all anthologies have themes, but when they do, go ahead and mix things up a little. One of my favorite examples of this is from my anthology Flying High: Sexy Stories from the Mile High Club (originally titled The Mile High Club: Plane Sex Stories), where Cheyenne Blue took the sex on an airplane theme and ran with it (or rather, walked) with “Wing Walker.” In this case, I truly didn’t want every story to be about seat mates getting it on in the air, and she made sure her story spun in a direction I could never have imagined when I wrote the call for submissions. I’ve channeled my fear of driving and cars into a BDSM erotica story about a woman “forced” by her partner to drive as part of their kinky relationship. Once again, if you have insider details about a certain location or fetish or hobby, taking that and eroticizing it is a way to impress an editor, gloss on the theme and stand out from the pack.
Proofread and read your work out loud before submitting
This goes along with my first rule. We all make typos and other mistakes, and I’d say almost everyone will find something to tweak once they read their work aloud. It simply sounds different when you speak the words rather than read them on the page or screen, especially if you’ve already read them numerous times. This is an excellent way to give your work a final proofing before submitting it.
Rachel Kramer Bussel (rachelkramerbussel.com) has edited over 60 anthologies, including Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1, Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica, Begging for It, Fast Girls, The Big Book of Orgasms and more. She writes widely about sex, dating, books and pop culture and teaches erotica writing classes around the country and online. Follow her @raquelita on Twitter and find out more about her classes and consulting at eroticawriting101.com.
September 15, 2016
Fantasy, Fairy Tale, & Fashion: The Smexiest Parts of TALE OF TALES
by Madeline Iva
I’m becoming more fantasy obsessed as I get closer to the releasing of my FIRST NOVEL which—you guessed it—is a fantasy romance.(Shameless plug: it comes out November 1st) Yet what is it about fantasy that does it for me, exactly? Well, for one thing, I’m a total sucker for ye-olde poofy dresses. Yup.
Pair up a ye-olde poofy dress with a dainty princess crown, add in some gloomy tall interiors–preferably with a brooding mysterious hero lurking in the background–toss in a general air of gothic funk, and yeah: that’s me swooning at your feet.
That’s not to say TALE OF TALES is an amazing movie. Is it romantic and heartbreaking? No. Disney would not approve. But I think it’s worth watching, especially if you view the movie more as a kind of fantasy fashion show. The stories are based upon the writing of Giambattista Basile who in 15 whatever was a fairy tale collector. Fairy Tale Collector—now that’s a job I want! I was transfixed like a cat chittering at the birds as I watched the plush costumes and how they blended with the settings of the film. ****SPOILERS AHEAD****
Here are my fav fashion moments from the movie:
THE QUEEN:
I loved the sea monster–and was very unhappy to watch a critter minding its own business die–even a mythical one. 
The sea monster’s heart is about the size of a Thanksgiving turkey and contrasted artfully against the Queen’s black dress. She has to eat the whole thing in order to conceive a child. The smeary red all around her mouth makes just the right statement of glorious depravity in the moment. And the amazing stone backdrop provides a minimalist contrast–so lux.
Note the awesome stone labyrinth –I want one for my yard! (No more mowing.) I loved this scene, because the pale stone set off her crimson dress with black velvet detailing so well! THAT dress. 
That dress is TO DIE!!! Chasing after son in play, she runs along, gaily calling his name while she scampers about, her dress flowing behind her, the sleeves all a swirl –and her little gold crown wiggling around the corners—lurv!
How the Queen’s fashion sensibility continues, even as she takes a turn toward the homicidal. The Queen, while attempting to bash in someone’s head with an elegant black poker, wears a matching black taffeta dress with tight sleeves at the top of her arms and a tight bodice, both of which billow out into graceful bell sleeves and a voluminous skirt below. Bravo!
THE PRINCESS:
Here is Violet with girly hair d’jour. I want to squeeze her to death! You’ll note her dress has little dangly pom-poms. In the words of Rachel Zoe: Ba. Nanas.
Our round faced, dimpled princes goes from this – to this.
What a before and after transformation! Yet who can resist her in such a besplattered state, full of post-trauma gravitas, as she comes all covered in blood and gore to deliver to her father the head of the ogre he married her to.
Aw! He loves her. She however, has had enough.
It says something about the depth of my romance convictions that I kept waiting for this relationship to work out. Look at the tenderness on his face — and look at the knife in her hand. Yeah, it’s never gonna work out.
THE OLD MAID
One day an insatiable lusty King hears a maid singing with a lovely voice, but she nips inside before he can see what she looks like. He assumes from her youthful voice that she’s young and pretty. Alas, she’s not – not at all. But she desires him too!
From the other side of a locked door she protests her modesty and vows she’ll sleep with him–but only in the dark. Sneaking into his bed chamber doesn’t work out, however. When she’s exposed in the early morning light, the king orders his guards to throw her out. She winds up getting tossed out of a window all tangled up in a crimson bedspread.
Caught in the tree limbs far below, the bedspread winds up saving her life, acting as half hammock, half straight jacket. A boar-woman comes by and cuts her loose, and she falls down onto the mossy rocks. Half-stunned not just by her fall, but even more so by the humiliating events she just endured, she groans and frets. The boar-woman suckles her (!) comforting her in all her childish wounded vanity, misery, and woe, until she falls into a daze. She wakes up transformed into a youthful maiden ROCKING THE CRIMSON BEDSPREAD.
Of course the King comes along — he’s boar hunting — sees her, and instantly falls in love. 
They marry. Here she is in a divine wedding gown with a gold jester’s collar (the joke is on the King) with little danglies (people I am a sucker for danglies). Her beautiful hair is all piled up and topped with an extra-dangly pearl headdress – Swoon!
What I liked best about this film is that eventually the enchantment wears off and she’s back to being her old self again. She scutters off before the King can see her. Isn’t that really the lesson we need to learn from life? Sometimes after going through a sh** week you get a little boon. But soon enough the boon fades away and life is back to normal once again.
Disney would SO not approve!
Ready to leave the tyranny of Disney behind? Follow us at Lady Smut.
Madeline Iva
writes fantasy and paranormal romance. Her novella ‘Sexsomnia’ is available in our LadySmut anthology HERE, Her fantasy romance, WICKED APPRENTICE, is available for pre-order Oct 1st and releases November 1st.
September 13, 2016
Steamy Excerpt
The end of an awful marriage might be the beginning of something smoking hot. Click to buy.
Hello Sexies! I can’t be with you today but would never dream of leaving you high and dry, so please enjoy – any way you wish (!) – the following sizzlin’ scene from my latest historical release, Desire Rising . See you again soon! xo
She recalled what Budding had said. Must have been hell—pure hell. Her eyes welled with sympathy. She didn’t know what tortured Miles, but the reasons didn’t matter. Whatever they were, she understood his pain.
He looked over, meeting her gaze, and took in a breath. “You may be wondering—”
“No, Miles.” She shook her head. “What you choose to share with me about yourself—or not share— will be your decision alone and done in your own time. Until then, you need not say a thing.”
He cleared his throat and she noticed his hands ball into fists. “’Tis difficult to find the right words.”
“Which is why you needn’t find them with me.”
He took a step closer, looking into her eyes. “You are an uncommon woman, Catherine Sheffield.”
“Yes.”
He smiled. “And quite agreeable.”
“When it suits me.”
Miles leaned into his right arm, resting against the tree. His despair of moments ago faded, leaving in its wake the spark of desire. He lifted his left hand and trailed his fingers across her cheek.
“And does this suit you?”
He bent closer so they were inches apart, the warm exhalations of his breath gliding across her face. With his forefinger he caressed her top lip and then bottom, circling her mouth with a touch as light as air. He inserted just the tip of his finger into her mouth, sweeping it across her tongue, then withdrawing it to paint the moisture across her bottom lip.
“It does.” Her response was little more than a whisper. The excited beats of her pulse trembled like leaves stirred by the wind.
“How about this?” he asked, his hand straying downward to trace light, sensual patterns along her throat. When he reached the indentation at the base of her neck he paused, stroking her collarbone. Then he dipped lower, teasing the swell of her bosom before sliding his palm over her left breast, caressing it through the fabric of her dress.
Her nipple puckered in response to his touch. Slow, delicious pulses throbbed low in her groin. Her eyes drifted closed, lost in a carnal haze.
“Look at me.” He lightly pinched her nipple. “I want to watch you get aroused.”
“How do you know I will?” she challenged, though the breathiness of her reply betrayed her bravado.
“Trust me, you will.” The flat of his hand glided over her belly, drawing ever closer to the apex of her legs. “I’m about to make it so. You shall feel my touch all over your body, and I shall hear you moan.”
Although the park was empty of visitors, Miles stepped even closer to Catherine to ensure his body shielded hers. Then with one hand he lifted her skirt and chemise while he slid the other beneath the silk material to caress her thighs. Where his fingertips stroked, a line of fire sizzled along her skin.
Her breath whooshed from her lungs. Her heartbeat soared. Miles’ hand roamed upward from her thigh to cup her mons then he brazenly slid a finger through the soaking folds of her pussy and lightly stroked her throbbing clit. She gasped, shocked yet thrilled at his daring.
Taking her cue from his boldness, she spread her legs farther apart, needing more of his skilled caresses to soothe her burning ache. He smiled as though she’d given him a reward and continued his assault. Her blood roared in her ears, skin burning from Miles’ attention.
Her breaths came hot and quick.
“Let go, Catherine,” he whispered, increasing the pressure of his hand. “Let me see your desire. I would know how far I can take you.”
It was as though he were testing her, seeing if he could expose her limitations. She rose to the challenge and nodded. “If you dare.”
“Oh,” he growled beneath his breath. “I dare.”
In the back of her mind she knew the risk they took, sharing passion outdoors in which any given moment might expose them to prying eyes. But it was an experience she’d never had, and the danger added an element of sensuality far too delicious to resist. She rested against the tree and ever so slightly arched her back to meet the pressure of Miles’ hand. She lifted her arm and placed it around his neck.
To her surprise, he shook his head and withdrew his hand from beneath her skirt. Reaching behind his head, he unwound her arm and settled it by her side. “Not this time,” he said.
“Now is for you alone. I can touch you, but you must not touch me.”
“But—”
“If you can stand it.” His eyes gleamed as he teased, provoking her in a way she’d never known.
With the tip of his tongue he licked her lips, holding off on fully kissing her. Instead, he tugged at the silk scarf loosely tied about her neck, easily removing the fabric and exposing the swell of her breasts above the gown’s plunging neckline. Then he lightly pulled down on the gown enough to be able to dip his hand beneath the neckline and withdraw her bare breast.
Catherine hissed in a sharp breath of air from the searing heat of Miles’ touch. Her nipple hardened like the pit of a cherry as he rolled it between his fingers. She longed to wrap her arms around him, drawing him into her embrace, and his refusal to allow her to do so heightened her arousal until just as promised, she moaned aloud.
She cast her gaze downward between their bodies. The bulge of Miles’ cock thrust against his breeches. Beads of sweat clung to his temples and she knew he burned for release. But his satisfaction this time seemed to be from pleasuring her and she accepted his wish. Next time she would be the one giving pleasure.
He bent down to dot kisses along her neckline and the swell of her breast. Flames of desire consumed her. “Oooh!”
He looked up, eyes glittering. “Shall I stop?”
“Never.”
“As you wish.” A faint smile touched his lips before he resumed his work. With excruciating slowness, his tongue painted a scorching wet trail around her breast. Blood roared in her ears and her heart pounded so fiercely she wondered if Miles could feel the thumping beneath his lips. It mattered not. Her head swam from his sensual assault. He teased her to the brink of madness, flicking at her nipple with his tongue but not sucking it.
“Please,” she begged, her voice like a whimper.
He lifted his head. “Patience, Miss Sheffield.”
“It’s gone missing.” She thrust her chest forward, demanding attention, but still he held off. Catherine thought she would go mad from Miles’ torment, frustration mounting by not being allowed to touch him.
Around and around he kissed until, at last, he took her hardened nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the sensitized skin, grazing it ever so lightly with his teeth. Her hands gripped the rough bark of the tree she leaned against while Miles’ tortuous expertise with his lips and tongue shot fire to her throbbing core. Moisture trickled down her thighs as her hips swayed.
Release danced within her grasp as Miles continued to suck her sensitive nipples. Yet she craved more, just a little. Her eyes closed as she panted with unfulfilled need. If only he would lift her skirts once again…
A warm breeze fluttered loose strands of her hair, a brief reminder of their outdoor locale. Yet with Miles standing directly before her, his large muscular frame serving as shield from prying eyes, they were cloaked in relative secrecy. Even so, Catherine gave thanks for the isolation in that area of the park.
She allowed her head to fall back against the tree, indulging in Miles’ caresses as she would a luxurious bath. After a time his kisses once more slid tantalizingly along her throat, then they brushed her cheeks, her forehead, until at last he claimed her lips.
His torrid kiss was like an explosion of fire. Catherine opened her mouth to Miles, returning his kiss with frenzied passion. She dipped her tongue into the hot recesses of his mouth, tasting him, breathing him in as if he’d become a part of her. He groaned low in ecstasy as she pulled away and kissed his throat, licking the heated, salty skin, then returned once more to continue kissing his mouth. Now it was her turn to groan aloud as Miles’ hand crept downward once more to cup between her legs.
She breathed into his mouth as his fingers stroked her sensitive clit through the material of her dress. She wantonly pressed herself against the palm of his hand, already panting from his earlier teases and desperate for release. But Miles held back, pulling away as she strained forward, causing her to nearly cry aloud in frustration while continuing to stoke the fires of her lust.
He gave a swift look around, ensuring they were still alone. Then he bent forward and, using both hands, grasped the voluminous layers of petticoats, chemise, and the gown itself and edged up the skirts, bunching them at her waist. Holding them against her body with his hand, he raised his face so his gaze burned directly into her eyes.
“Wrap your leg around me.”
Her mouth went dry. She licked nervously at her lips, her heart slamming against her ribcage. For one wild moment she wondered if he issued his command in jest, but a single look in his lust-black eyes revealed the truth. He would pleasure here, outdoors, and she would let him.
She lifted her thigh and placed it around his waist.
Really Bad Story People, or What Becomes of the Braying Jackass?
Yes, officer, this guy is bothering me.
By Alexa Day
Long ago, in a critique group with a very talented group of writers, I faced a bit of a dilemma. One of my colleagues had passed around a story that revolved around a character who was just an irretrievable ass. Of course, this character was paired with a female character who just doted on and encouraged the protagonist’s worst qualities. She made it possible for him to move through the world as an ass. I kept waiting for some development in the story to awaken the protagonist, for some realization to surface in his porcine proto-brain. I didn’t necessarily want him to turn into a sweet, cuddly pookie bear (that’s not an attractive alternative, either, really), and I wasn’t hoping for a grand apology. I just wanted him to recognize that everything he had in the world came from his being an ass.
But nothing like that happened. In essence, the story could be summed up thus: protagonist, a braying jackass, rides his girlfriend’s coattails into society and amazing success.
Eventually, with everyone’s eyes on me, I had to confess to my colleague that his character was unlikeable. It seemed to be the cornerstone of the story, and not in a magnetic way. If there was more to his life, I couldn’t ascertain what it was.
My colleague offered me a smug grin. “Well,” he said, “do ya have to like everyone you read about?”
I know where he was going. Sometimes, little girl, you’re going to have to read people you don’t like. Yeah, no shit, honey. Pretty sure you didn’t have to read some of the uplifting tales of racial suffering I had to slog through in high school. But thanks for the reminder, sweetheart.
And at the time, I did need to read about likeable people. I was working a hellish job at a law firm, serving a horde of people I didn’t like or respect. I have crossed the street to avoid some of those people. I was not going to invite more of them into my life for the sake of promoting literature.
I thought of this experience again on Sunday. I had such grand plans for Sunday — who doesn’t, right? — but I watched all of them fall into a great black hole created by a book I was reading. I don’t want to speak its name, for fear that I’m not actually the last person in this hemisphere to read it. I’ll just say that I literally could not put it down for more than a few minutes, and that everyone in the story was an awful person.
My mind went back to my condescending colleague. I could barely get through 10 pages of his obnoxious protagonist, but I devoured 400 pages of these terrible people. So what had happened?
I don’t think I’ve changed all that much. I still don’t want to invite additional awful people into my life.
Part of the difference, I think, is that 400 pages gives an author enough time to seduce the reader. None of the characters in the longer story was an irretrievable ass right from the jump. Not in an obvious way, anyway. By the time I started thinking, “I don’t know about you, dude,” I was being pulled along by the story.
I also think that my fiction receptors were hoping some great justice would deliver the goods to the population of awful people in the book. The book flirts with that possibility, and that’s all the opening the mind needs. No, don’t walk away. It’s still possible that everyone in the story will spontaneously combust. You’ll want to be here for that, won’t you?
This led me to think of romance.
Neither the short story nor the longer book I’m talking about here is a romance. But whenever I read something that sparks such an emotional response, I wonder, “Could one write a romance in that way?”
On the one hand, romance is written in kind of the opposite way. We want the hero and heroine to get what they deserve, but the story is constructed so that they deserve happiness. A happiness they may never have considered for themselves. If there is a better feeling than watching the hero open his eyes to the fact that he is loved, finally, in a way he didn’t think he deserved, I’m not sure I want to know what it is.
Look back at that last sentence. Isn’t that what my colleague from critique group was trying to accomplish?
Stubbornly, I have to cling to the idea that my reading life has no room for the Irretrievable Ass and the Enabler Who Loves Him. I’m just determined to be right about that.
But in a genre where authors think cigarettes and recreational sex make a character “bad,” could we stand to broaden the range of people who make our stories live?
How good does any of us really have to be?
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Alexa Day is the USA Today bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance with heroines who are anything but innocent. In her fictional worlds, strong, smart women discover excitement, adventure, and exceptional sex. A former bartender, one-time newspaper reporter, and recovering attorney, she likes her stories with just a touch of the inappropriate, and her literary mission is to stimulate the intellect and libido of her readers.
September 12, 2016
From Naughty to Nice: Following My Muse Across Genres. A Guest Post From Jackson D’Lynne
There seems to be a misconception among romance readers; once an author has written in a specific genre, they are locked into the genre, and therefore spice level, until they give up ghost.
What a load of shit.
Guest author Jackson D’Lynne
Most authors are driven by their passion, their muse, and the money they make from writing, which means that while one genre birthed their careers, they are in no way shackled to it. The market dictates what is popular and therefore what readers are buying.
Lots of authors change up their genres to fit the market, and I’m all for that as long as you can do it while still staying true to your muse.
I began writing fiction in elementary school, and I have been writing bits and pieces here and there over the years. But I didn’t begin writing books until 2012. I published my first book in March of that year, and guess what? It was a book of Christian poetry and short stories.
How then did I end up on this website, you ask?
Click on image to buy!
Well, in 2014, I switched it up and wrote and published a deliciously smutty time travel paranormal novel, The Diva and the Duke, the first book in my The Three Goddesses Series. While I am a born-again Christian, not every story idea my muse conjures up is SFC (safe for church), and the idea for that particular book series plagued me until I gave in and wrote it.
I officially switched up genres, in a big way.
The Diva and the Duke was so unlike what I’d written before that my mother-in-law refused to read it. Her right, her loss. While my MIL didn’t like it, someone did because it reached the Amazon Bestseller’s List twice.
In 2015, I wrote and published my second smutfest, The Rancher and the Renegade—it was full of smexiness, filthy language, and an utterly deviant villain. It was longer and naughtier than the first book, and therefore even further from the squeaky clean book I’d written in 2012.
Now, were in 2016 and my muse is no longer happy with just writing paranormal romance. She wants adventure, she wants dark tales, she wants clean, sweet romantic tales that would make fans of Little House on the Prairie sell their last pail of milk to own it.
Click on image to buy!
My muse, who I lovingly call “Ellari, Sorceress of the Pen”, is now conjuring up story ideas for several YA Sci-Fis and thrillers, a sweet fantasy standalone, a bloody and suspenseful adult thriller, a time-travel pirate trilogy, a dark medieval fantasy, a series of erotic novellas set in space, and the book series I am currently writing for Dragonblade Publishing: Dry Bayou Brides.
As someone who lives and dies by her muse, I’ve never been one to tell her no, and so I’ve decided to give her the lead. She’s told me to write a brand new sweet western romance series, and so I am. The first book in my new Dry Bayou Brides series is The Shepherd’s Daughter (set for release September 27, 2016), and it is so far from what I’ve written before that I am petrified at what fans of my naughty books will think.
Will they like it? Do they expect me to sneak sexy bits in between the pages? Will they think I’ve turned my back on spicy books?
Coming September 27, 2016!
As an author, readers are my bread and butter, and without them I am left with lots of words to write and no one reading them. But because writing is my passion, and my muse and I are a team, I am taking a chance at writing outside the box in which my career began.
I’m taking a chance on my new genre, will you?
Jackson D’Lynne is one of the pseudonyms of a hardworking mother of four trapped in rural Pennsylvania. When she isn’t writing naughty paranormal romance, she is writing sweet historical romance as Lynn Winchester. When she isn’t writing at all, she is reading, playing Diablo III, having long conversations with her cat, Nix, or watching Netflix and chilling with her husband of 12 years.
You can catch up with Jackson on Facebook and Twitter.
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