Liz Everly's Blog, page 50

Sexy Saturday Round Up

Summer’s almost over! Time to revel in your lazy weekend fun (while you can) before the hustle and bustle of fall arrives.  To help you with that project, we’ve got some handy-dandy links to savor, snort at, and suck down like a minty mojito.  Enjoy!

From Madeline:

Some say porn is good for you.  Others say porn is destroying young men’s sexual health.

Reductress has had enough with men making jokes about rape.  Devotes website to making jokes about stupid men’s attitudes towards rape.

Margaret Fountaine: Victorian adventurer, butterfly collector, and collector of young male lovers.

Romance novellas from Nigerian women are challenging traditions.

When good intentions go wrong: A writer expresses her pain after trying to write POC protagonists and disappointing black critics.

Why we gasp and moan.

One woman aims for vindication against a crotch grabber.

From Smart Bitches Trashy Books: How Movie Beta Males Won Her Heart

From Women’s Health, Australia: This survey reveals the type of women men find most attractive.

From Elizabeth Shore:

Hankerin’ to be humiliated? Tips for talking to your partner.

If you’re college-bound kid is feeling homesick, help her out with a candle that smells like her home state.

Some interesting stats on glasses porn.

It’s not just for the ladies! One man waxes poetic about his experience getting a “boyzilian.”

Talkin’ dirty. 15 erotic fiction quotes that are sure to get your motor revved.

Why some people are better suited than others for consensual nonmonogamy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How to succeed at writing when you feel clueless

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

I’m getting a head start on Second Chances week in honor of the release of our own Lady Smut author Elizabeth Safleur’s new erotic romance, Perfect, which you can read more about on her website, including an excerpt.

But what I want to talk about today isn’t so much fictional second chances, but real life ones, though if you are looking for a fun foodie romance all about a second chance career, I highly recommend the hilarious Nuts by Alice Clayton.

I’m going to focus on my own second chance career as a writer, which started off when I was flailing my way through one of the worst time periods of my life: law school. When I was in college, I thought I knew everything about everything, including what I wanted my future job to be. I did consider applying to journalism schools, because I’d been writing letters to the editor throughout my teens, getting them published everywhere from The New York Times to Vogue, but because I thought I would be the next big activist lawyer type, I focused on law schools. Also, I was 19 and 20 when I was applying, because I graduated from college in three years and my birthday is in November, which in hindsight at 40 years old seems very young to have to know what I want to do for the rest of my life.

So there I was at one of the most prestigious law schools in the country, NYU Law, and I was miserable. I felt totally outclassed by my peers and kept falling farther and farther behind on my schoolwork. I was living off student loans in a dorm so I couldn’t foresee how I would be able to ever afford to leave, since I didn’t have any savings. I wound up slogging through the next three years, but using my newfound enthusiasm for indie bands and musicians as a way to escape from what increasingly felt like an utterly wrong fit.

I had been reading erotica since college, but one day I decided to see if I could write my own. I had no fiction writing background and had never even considered writing short stories before; I was more of the impassioned, fiery, opinionated essay writing type. I saw a call for submissions for an anthology about celebrity sex fantasies called Starf*cker and went about crafting a story based on my own crush on a certain famous figure which became my first written and published erotica story, “Monica and Me” (you can listen to it on The Kiss Me Quick’s podcast).

“Monica and Me” image from The Kiss Me Quick’s podcast

Around this time, just as that story was being submitted, I realized that the jig was up, and law school wasn’t for me. In 1999, at the end of my third year, when I should have been graduating, I slunk into an administrator’s office and confessed that after dodging my classes and basically flunking out, I would be taking a leave of absence. I never went back.

From there, I went on to write more short stories, which led to be asked to co-edit and then edit anthologies. At first, those books were conceived of by publishers who would present possible subjects such as spanking or exhibitionism and voyeurism, and later, I started pitching my own anthology ideas.

What started on a whim eventually became my second chance career, and even led to a full-time job when an adult magazine editor in chief was looking for a new senior editor, and approached me about it. At the time, I was making do as a typist at an insurance agency, an utterly mind-numbing job that left me feeling utterly bored.

Over the next seven and a half years, I learned a ton about writing, editing and publishing at that job, while also delving into new projects, such as writing a nonfiction sex column for famed alt weekly The Village Voice and running an erotic reading series.

But even though I loved all these opportunities, I carried around a huge amount of guilt about dropping out of law school. I felt like it was this giant black mark not just on my finances (I emerged with over $150,000 in student loans, and while I don’t have the exact amount I paid over the next 14 years, I’d estimate that Sallie Mae ultimately got around twice that from me in payments), but also on my reputation. No matter what I achieved in my writing career, whether bylines or awards or speaking engagements or packed rooms full of people at readings or new books published, I felt like a failure. That only started to ease once I finally did pay off those loans in 2013, with some help on the final payments from an inheritance from my grandmother.

Even now, I still sometimes wish I could go back in time and get that degree, not because I wish I had stayed on that path and become a lawyer, but because then I would feel like I had accomplished what I had set out to do. I’ll never know what opportunities that would have led to, but I do think dropping out had a silver lining, because it made me that much more dedicated to my new career. I threw myself into writing, editing and promoting my work with gusto. I said yes to almost any opportunity to do live readings, to write for new publications, both paid and unpaid, to work with various publishers.

This year all of those skills came in handy when I faced a major depression for several months, slogging through each day listlessly. I was stuck mentally, emotionally and, it seemed, in my career, which didn’t feel like it was moving forward in any way. I worried each month that I wouldn’t have enough money to pay the rent, and didn’t know what to do. Eventually, I asked those closest to me for help, not with my mental health issues, but with potential jobs.

With some guidance from my therapist and my depression naturally running its course, life started to seem brighter and a bit more worth waking up for, and those friends I asked for help have launched me into what I consider my next second chance writing career, as a part-time copywriter for a retail company. At first, I felt like I was giving up my freelance writing life that I’d built up since my magazine job ended in 2011, but over the past few months, I’ve discovered that I actually enjoy copywriting and geeking out about marketing. Contrary to my concerns that I was unfit for office life after working from home for so long, I love having coworkers I can turn to with questions and get an immediate, face to face answer. I’ve also started doing entertainment blogging for a site called OMJ (Oh. My. Jersey.), which has provided its own learning curve, but also showed me a whole new way of being a blogger I’d never considered before.

My point in sharing all this is that it’s never too late to start writing, or return to writing, or try a new way of writing. Maybe you’ve written technical manuals but want to try writing a mystery. Or maybe, like science writer Emily Nagoski, author of the much buzzed about sexuality tome Come As You Are, you’ve also got a romance novel in you. Nagoski, writing as Emily Foster, has a new romance novel out called How Not to Fall that I’m excited to take to the beach with me next week while I’m on vacation.

Or what about Jill Kargman, who prior to 2015 was primarily known as an author of novels like Momzillas, but has now parlayed that world of ultra rich mommies into one of the most hilarious shows on TV, Bravo comedy Odd Mom Out, which she also stars in? Talk about a second chance career!

I had no idea what would happen when I left law school, or when I got laid off from my magazine editing job, or when I started exploring copywriting, or at umpteen other points along my career journey. How could I have? But taking those leaps, some by choice, others by necessity, has helped get me where I am today. I didn’t have a game plan when I wrote that first story; I never said “I want to edit dozens of anthologies.” I did it all one step at a time, and I’m still doing it one step at a time, as I assess and measure and experiment and forge ahead with each new essay, article, short story and anthology.

I often find that prospective authors want a blueprint to follow, a mapped out route to writing success, but alas, there is none, because each of our journeys are different. Just as nobody can tell you exactly how to write (in my opinion), no one can tell you what chances you should be taking. That you have to figure out for yourself.

I’ll leave you with a quote from one of my favorite books I’ve read this year, the essay collection/memoir You’ll Grow Out Of It by Jessi Klein, a comedian and head writer for Inside Amy Schumer.

She has a chapter titled “How I Became a Comedian” which is actually a pretty serious chapter, about how we can wait and wait and wait, sometimes forever, for our big breaks, so often held back by our own fears, but that at a certain point, we have to decide whether to create our own chances, or keep on waiting for some mythical future time when we feel “ready.” Klein writes of doing her first standup comedy gigs after longing to do so for years: “The fear of trying stand-up and the fear of not trying stand-up were locked in an endless stalemate, where both sides made convincing arguments and both sides agreed it would be a good idea if instead of making a decision I just sat on the floor of the crap apartment Pete and I shared and ordered huge amounts of truly terrible Indian food.” Her path meandered toward her eventual success, including turning down a stint writing for Late Show with David Letterman in large part because her dad said to her of the thirteen-week offer, “Well, that doesn’t sound like much of a job at all.”

Contrary to my post’s headline, I don’t have a surefire route to instant writing success, because there isn’t one. I’ve done it in my own roundabout way, not by writing novels as so many of my peers have done, but by writing and editing short stories. That’s one path, the one that has worked for me so far, because it’s something I love doing even after 17 years. I think the key to that success has been being willing to adapt and grow and take risks and, via trial and error, figure out where to best focus my skills, time and energy.

If you take anything away from my words, I hope it’s that whether your thing is writing or comedy or athletics or art, you will never regret going for it. You won’t regret giving yourself a second or third or fourth or thousandth chance, but it’s very likely that you will regret never taking that chance in the first place.

Visit Lady Smut all next week for more on Elizabeth SaFleur’s new novel Perfect and second chances.

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.

Sex, Magic, Fantasy & One Cranky-Pants Heroine

A Promise of Fire (The Kingmaker Chronicles)[image error]

Click to buy!

by Madeline Iva

This is the one.  This is the book you gotta read.  That’s what I keep hearing about Amanda Bouchet’s debut release A Promise of Fire (The Kingmaker Chronicles)[image error]PROMISE OF FIRE, the first in THE KINGMAKER CHRONICLES with sex, magic, and fantasy woven together into one Greek Gods of a romance fantasy gyro.

But this is not a review.  I too, have a fantasy romance coming out soon.  I too, am trying to roll up magic fantasy sparkies into a delicious heap of smexy.  I could not review this book if I tried.  Instead I read it/inhaled it/grokked it with small stabs of anxiety and admiration. Look at how consistent she is in all the smexy, all the spells and everything.  Is my book this consistent? Is my book this polished?

No, it’s not.  I mean–I just got back my edits, and the editor explicitly said: “After you have done this, give me back a clean manuscript. I will then give it to a copy editor who will also look at its consistency and give you some feedback.”

(!)

So I’m a little in awe of Amanda’s book.  But let me entice you a little more:

What we’ve got here is a world in which our heroine has literally run away to join the circus.  How fun is that? She’s swiftly kidnapped by a hot warrior dude and Amanda Bouchet keeps the smexy sparks rolling between these two through the entire book. He needs our heroine to keep his kingdom intact.  See,the heroine has this handy little gift: when people lie to her it shreds her brain with pain. Handy, if you’re wondering who’s going to be loyal to you and your family in the new regime, no?

Along the way, we witness magic in a variety of inflections, but also tweaked and tumbled by the Greek Gods, who frequently stick a finger in humanity’s pie.  As I was reading (and fretting) my sweetie wondered aloud how Bouchet carries off Greek Gods without Greece. Very adroitly, is my answer.  There’s a Mount Olympus, thus there are gods crawling off it and littering the landscape. Bam!

And…I won’t add any more spoilers, except our cranky-pants heroine is tied to a rope with a muscled bunch of hotness on the other end, and while they stalk the landscape, we capture glimpses of her (literally) tortured past.

Okay–so buy it already!  But what I really want to talk about is an issue near and dear to my heart — a topic I’ve repeatedly discussed with Kiersten Hallie Krum:  How to get people to like your strong, intelligent, sassy-pants heroine?  I mean, she sounds great on the surface, right?  You’re thinking: I love strong, intelligent heroines! Bring ‘er on!

No you don’t.  From a romance writer’s point of view, you’re just waiting there in the weeds, sneaky reader, ready to suddenly dart out on Goodreads or in the Amazon reviews section and declare our beloved heroine a selfish bitch, who’s very snarky (but not in a good way) and completely unlike-able.  Yes you do.  And I know this, because I’ve read romances and had this same reaction myself. Oh, the humanity!

Btw, Kiersten says check out her book Barefoot Bay: Wild on the Rocks (Kindle Worlds)[image error]Wild on the Rocks, if you DO for some strange reason want to read an unlikeable snarky heroine.

So I’ve fretted over this problem for years–all the years I’ve been getting on my feet as a romance writer. At first I was reassured by what Elizabeth Shore (fellow Lady Smut-er) said: “It’s okay if your heroine is intelligent.  As long as she’s not perfect.”  Smart words, Elizabeth. Other romance writers say we want to read about people smarter than ourselves.  Don’t be afraid of strong heroines.

Yeah! But. Um.  When I told my fellow romance writer (and thus romance reader) friends that the heroine of my novel loved magic and her raison d’ etra was to know and master magic in all it’s forms they reacted with a unanimous ew.   I said, ‘No, you don’t get it. Um.” And then Joanna Bourne said: “She’s like Tinkerbell.”

“Yes!” I said, pounding the table at Panera.  “Yes! Thank you, Joanna.” Turning to the rest, I said,  “She’s like Tinkerbell.”

“No one likes Tinkerbell,” Joanna said.

(!)  o_O

So this is the cross I bear.  How to make readers engage with my heroine when she doesn’t want babies, or to be used as a door matt by her man, her family, and the masses in general? I’m exaggerating here, of course, to make a point, but I direct you to Virginia Kantra‘s paranormal series Children of the Sea.

Sea Witch (Children of the Sea)[image error]

I *think* this is the paranormal book Virginia was referring to. Check it out — click on it to buy.

Kantra, at a Washington Romance Writer’s meeting said it was a challenge getting her publisher to accept a older, unmarried, female heroine who was content being alone and just wanted to have some hot sex.  (Sound familiar? Half my friends are like this.)

They said, “Well Virginia, as long as, you know, she’s nice to animals and maybe the occasional old person, you’re good.” (These are completely made up quotes on the part of her publisher, by the way.)   Kantra said by the time the story had gotten through all the edits, the story was set in this very peculiar beach town, strangely littered with hundreds of stray cats and elderly people on every corner. My point exactly!

Okay–back to Bouchet’s book.  How, I ask myself, how does she carry off this cranky-pants heroine who is unwilling to get close to anybody and anyone, and ultimately, is more powerful than anybody and anyone in the whole book? How does she pull this off? (?!?!?!)

Well, I will tell you.  After chewing over the plot in my mind, I think her secret sauce is the backstory. Bouchet’s heroine was repeatedly taught that to love someone is to see that person (again, literally) gutted.  To trust is to kill.  She keeps anyone and everyone at a distance, but at the same time (and this, Kiersten, is the key point) as readers, we feel the longing she has to make connection to the people around her.  We see how, despite her prickly defenses, the cranky is rapidly slackening.  She genuinely likes and respects these people.  She wants to be one of them–she can’t quite admit it to herself, but she does.  And she is becoming one of them–which is putting each and every one of their lives at risk.  This is the drama that winds up the end of A Promise of Fire (The Kingmaker Chronicles)[image error]Bouchet’s book.

…And now I’m swiveling my head back to my own manuscript, taking a deep breath, and getting ready to plunge back in.  Bye!

Follow us at LadySmut.com and clap if you *do* like Tinkerbell.  She’s iconic you know — iconic!

Madeline Iva writes fantasy, paranormal, and contemporary romance.  Her novella ‘Sexsomnia’ is available in our LadySmut anthology HERE, Her fantasy romance, WICKED APPRENTICE, will be out REAL SOON!(September, 2016.)

New Study On Female Orgasms Reveals It’s Still A Big Damn Mystery

By Elizabeth Shore

A friend of mine, knowing I’m forever on the hunt for interesting blog topics, recently forwarded an article from The New York Times, “Scientists Ponder An Evolutionary Mystery: The Female Orgasm.” My interest, among other things, was aroused at once. This, after all, is literary candy for an erotic romance writer. I devoured it with gusto.

Here’s the lowdown from the article: scientists have long pondered the purpose of the female orgasm and have put forth multiple theories. Yet to date there’s been no singular agreement. It’s a byproduct of the male orgasm, say some. It’s meant to ensure females want to have sex and thus aiding the men in procreation, insist others. Then there’s a third camp that says the female orgasm is a biological function for fertility. The cervical contractions “suck up” male sperm and heighten the chances of conception. (Like a vacuum, I suppose. The Hoover theory?) The big problem there, unsurprisingly, is that since orgasms during sex are difficult for so many women, it seems rather suspect that they would play such a pivotal role in conception.

That last theory, however, the one about aiding in conception, is just the perspective a couple of evolutionary biologists are offering, except with a twist. They say the orgasm did indeed once serve an essential purpose toward helping females become pregnant. But here’s the fun part: it’s because in ancient female mammals, the clitorus used to be inside the vagina.

Come again? Ye ol’ happy button on the inside, where all the action takes place? Talk about hot times on the ancient mammal playground. But that’s exactly what Drs. Mihaela Pavličev and Günter Wagner are arguing in their new theory, published in The Journal of Experimental Zoology.

In conducting their research, the two biologists looked at the evolution of early mammals distantly related to humans. They discovered that ancient female mammals used to ovulate only after copulation with a male, versus having a regular ovulation cycle that occurs regardless of sexual activity. Because social groups among early mammals weren’t developed as they are today, a female aardvark, for example, might be waiting a good long time between rounds of sexy time with a hot male aardvark. When the two finally did come together and get down to business, it was essential that she made the most of her chances for conception. So having her clitoris inside the vagina made sure the female had an orgasm which, in turn, sent a signal to the brain to release an egg for fertilizatin. Ah, nature. Beautiful how that works.

As evolution marched on, mammals’ social dynamics changed and they began hanging out together on a regular basis. Females had more access to regular sex so, the reseachers theorize, the clitoris was no longer needed in that strategic location. Over time it moved away from its original position to the frustrating spot where it is today.

As intriguing as this sounds, it’s still just so much speculation, apparently. Even the researchers who published the paper admit that their findings don’t definitively settle the argument about why the female orgasm exists. But while I’ll leave the evoluationary biologists to continue pondering that question, the erotic writer in me is thinking there’s a good story in all of this. Say I have a heroine, for example, raised deep in an ancient jungle, one of those places that are nearly impossible to reach except by the most determined of explorers. And let’s say I have a hero who’s a determined explorer. He’s a scientist. And he’s hot, naturally. Somehow he’s able to overcome hostile guardian tribes, wild animals, thick terrain, and nasty bugs and he comes upon our heroine. Our heroine who, by the way, hasn’t evolved the same way as modern women so she’s still got the clitoris-inside-the-vagina thing going on. They have wild sex, and it’s amazing, and his mind is blown by her lusty orgasmic ability. But then he wants her to come back with him to the modern world. All kinds of problems there, right? Not the least of which is resistance from a hunky member of the guardian tribe who’d like nothing more than to blow the hero’s mind himself, but in an entirely different way…

Nothing like having some scientists pass along a book idea.

 

Of Wings and Women

These two might not be doing it right.

By Alexa Day

Zig Ziglar had this to say about the fine art of having it all: “You can have everything in life you want, if you will just help other people get what they want.”

He probably wasn’t talking about being a wingwoman, but his message about service definitely applies.

What’s a wingwoman? Glad you asked.

The wingwoman accompanies a friend, either male or female, to a target-rich environment, to facilitate the friend’s meeting other people for fun, romance, and perhaps sexytimes.

A wingwoman’s job isn’t easy, although the best practitioners make it look that way. The real virtuosos are hard to find. In my time, I have known exactly three, two of whom have moved far enough away that I can no longer call on them when I need support.

I do think the requisite skills can be taught. It just takes a little patience.

Want to give it a whirl? Find yourself a single friend — for our purposes, I’m talking about another woman — and prepare to learn a thing or two about a thing or two.

The first thing to consider as you enter WingWorld? It isn’t about you. Indeed, if there are two of you, I think you are best served to take turns. You could either decide that one of you is going to be the wing all night long, or you can switch off as you go from place to place. But I’ve seen people try to wing for each other simultaneously, and it doesn’t work all that well.

Your job as the wing is to make sure your friend is getting what she wants. You’re not getting what you want for her. You’re not getting what you want, unless you just want her to be happy. You don’t even get to pick the place. All this is about your friend. Make sure you’re both dressed appropriately, and then let her lead.

Now that you know your role, let’s see how this plays out on the ground. Follow along with me, won’t you?

1. Show up a little early. If you’re at your destination on the early side, say during the beginning of happy hour, you’ll get a nice place to sit. Do not concern yourself with hanging out there for a long time after you are done eating. Smart bartenders don’t mind sharp-looking ladies chilling at the bar because we encourage sharp-looking fellas to buy themselves a drink and then to buy a little something for us. It’s Zig Ziglar’s theory in action.

Are you the sort of woman who insists on buying her own drinks? Don’t let me tell you to stop. I, however, am not that sort of woman, so you might need a couple of grains of salt to work with me.

2. Bend the conversation. Be open and welcoming to everyone. Converse. Flirt. Have fun. But remember your job. Tell him what you do, but play up your friend’s job. Accept a compliment about that dazzling choker; you borrowed it from your bud. Try to be subtle. Bend the conversation, but don’t force it. Your friend has likely joined the conversation at the same time you did, but remember — your job is to serve.

3. Check in. I mentioned a moment ago that this is not about what you want for your friend; it’s about what your friend wants. I see way too many wingwannabes trying to steer their friends toward men in whom their friends have no interest at all. That’s kind of like what the Urban Dictionary calls a Bowling Ball Present: something you give another person that’s really intended for you. It’s obnoxious. Checking in with your friend from time to time ensures that she is getting the intended search results.

4. Consider your exit strategy, or as they say in the Thunderdome: Two women enter, one woman leaves. If you have accomplished your mission and introduced your friend to the hottie of her choosing, it’s time for you to get out of the way. Be delicate. In my experience as the wingwoman, I’ve found it effective to wait until my friend’s new friend gets up for some reason (like the bathroom). During his absence, I check in with my friend and take my leave if she’s all set. I’ve fallen back on the legendary early meeting. If it looks like the two of them are moving on to the next bar, I’ve noped out to leave them alone.

Exit strategy is not without risk.

If your friend is too inebriated to effectively participate in exit strategy, you don’t go anywhere (except to take her home). If your friend is not enthusiastic about exit strategy, you don’t exit. If you have intuition that risk exists, you declare this. If you do exit, you do still have to check in, both during the course of the evening and at an appropriate time in the morning. It is impossible to eliminate risk in our world, but risk can be reduced to manageable levels.

5. Celebrate. If you reached the exit successfully, it’s time to start thinking about your turn. Maybe next time she’s your wing. If you’re not in the market for free-range gentlemen, maybe you just make her buy the drinks and tell those secrets.

Either way, isn’t volunteering grand?

Follow Lady Smut. We’ve got your back.

Favorite Trends in Romance: A Guest Post by Michele Mannon

by Michele Mannon

The Romance Writers of America conference this summer held a discussion about hot trends within the romance genre. For this post, I decided to address this topic and share five trends I think are both prevalent in many new releases as well as trends I gravitate toward as a reader.

Guest Poster Michele Mannon

Bikers, Mobsters, Criminals, and Hit Men

I’ll be the first to admit, I love a bad boy hero. I love reading them. I love featuring them in my books. These mega Alpha heroes typically run against the grain of society, are often defiant, violent and like to be in control. Ever since Kristen Ashley released Motorcycle Man, with a surly bad ass biker hero named Kane “Tack” Allen, I’ve been hooked. Another book I recently read is Dark Mafia Prince by Annika Martin. The hero is a mobster…a hot as sin Russian bratva, and man is he naughty.

Tattoos

What began as bad boy heroes with tribal tattoos seems to have morphed into an entire subgenre within contemporary romance. Laura Kaye has a great series, The Hard Ink Novels, which are set in a tattoo parlor. And authors are getting creative with what their hero’s and heroine’s tats say and where they’re located. The best example of this is in Molly Joseph’s Diva. Sorry I can’t give it away but let’s just say you’ll feel like you’ve been struck by lightening after the author so expertly reveal it.

Dirty, Filthy Sex

Click on image to buy!

Remember when in almost every romance you’d have to wait until page 100 for the characters to get it on? Just like the pacing in stories is changing—becoming much more like television, fast and always moving forward—sex within romances is happening a lot sooner, and with much more yummy, explicit detail. Spankings, rough, dirty-talking heroes, and a whole lot of intense foreplay seem to be the norm right now. And I really love a good, dirty sex scene. Yet crafting one where love sex that drips off the pages and that has the right balance of angst, love and sexual tension is hard work. I recently had a reviewer comment about my new release, Rogue, the first book in The Deadliest Lies Series: “Mannon really knows how to craft a love scene-scintillating and yet tender.” A comment I love, of course. The truth is I write scenes I want to read. And hopefully, you do too! (BTW, I featured an excerpt below. Warning: heat level high.)

Crossing the Border

Scenes, and stories, set outside of small town America seems to be an “up-and-coming” trend. In The Professional, Kresley Cole took us on an amazing, and highly erotic, journey to Russia. There’s a great scene inside a banya that I love. In case you’re wondering, a banya is an outdoor sauna the Russians favor. Inside, visitors escape the cold and partake in the custom of smacking each other across the body with bound twigs and leafy branches dipped in cold water. See, there’s something new to be learned in these globe-trotting stories.

And characters are also taking on more of an international flavor. Ilsa Madden-Mills, Dirty English, features a British street fighter. In my book Hit Man (coming 11/16), Diego is Mexican/Danish…with a filthy, Spanish-speaking potty mouth. 

Click on image to buy!

Man Buns

Okay, I haven’t read a single romance with a hero with a man bun. And I’m talking about the curled up ponytail kind, not buns of steel. But I’m giving everyone an official heads up. If you read The Deadliest Lies series, the ruthless CEO of this group of hit men has a man bun. You’ll see it described through the main characters eyes in every book. But I promise you, when Hayden’s story is revealed, great things are going to happen to that man bun.

So what are trends you’re reading in romance? Which ones do you like? Are there any driving you crazy? Let me know in the comments!

Happy reading!

Blurb for ROGUE

My lover is dead.

And they think I killed him.

I’m running rogue. Hell bent on both revenge and redemption. Whatever it takes, I’m going to finish a job that began nine months ago. An unauthorized assignment that turned horribly, devastatingly wrong.

My miscalculation.

My fault.

My heart left shattered into incomplete pieces which will never wholly fit back together again.

But first I have to outsmart my former organization and the hired killer they’ve sent after me; a ghost from my past who knows my every move, who’s been inside my head, my heart, my dreams and memories: Jaxson.

I’m the traitor, Kylie. The rogue mercenary, Jaxson’s newest assignment.

And this is our love story.

Click on image to buy!

Excerpt from ROGUE: Warning ~ Spice Level HOT

Kylie and Jaxson are on the run and things get a bit wild.

Terrific. He’s going to flirt with me and tease me to death.

“You up for a challenge?”

“It depends on what it is.”

“Smart girl. How about I give you a play by play? Then you can either tell me to fuck off or to go for it.”

“What if I tell you to fuck off right now?” I sweetly ask.

He chuckles. “It’s your dime, fireball. Your call.”

I arch my eyebrows. He’s got this naughty, devilish look in his eyes and, God knows, not only should I resist him but I should roll myself out of our hiding place and run as fast as my legs will carry me into the woods.

“If this will help me survive Hell Camp, I’m up for a challenge,” I hear myself say.

“Believe me, it’s going to be a lesson in restraint for me as well. So here’s the deal. I wanna tease that sweet pussy of yours. Fuck you with my fingers. See how quiet you can be, how still you can be, how in control you can be when all hell is breaking loose around you. A shame I can’t lick you like I want. We’ll save that for a better time.

What do you say?”

What do I say? I open, close then open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Not “Yes, make me come beneath this decomposing tree while Hayden’s hellions run amuck around us.” Not “No, how about courting me with a few flowers first? Or at the very least, getting me tipsy on a bottle of good wine?”

I swallow hard. “I say this is you being unpredictable. Go figure.”

His hand slides downward and across my belly.

“Don’t you dare,” I whisper.

“Oh, I dare. But . . . do you?”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for days. Fuck, since you sank that knife into my thigh.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Hating that memory.

Jesus. He’s lost his freaking mind right along with me losing mine.

“Listen. You think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been eye-fucking me? Damn, I love the way you bite then lick your lip while you think I don’t know that you’re watching me.” His hand moves across my lower abdomen, the tips of his fingers sliding beneath the waistband of my sweatpants and my panties.

“Jaxson who?” I reply. Yeah, right. I’ve had eye-gasms over him for weeks.

This is crazy. Beyond crazy . . . insane. My whole experience at Hell Camp, the fights, the knives, is surreal. One adventure after another. Nothing prepared me for him. The pad of his pointer finger flickers over my nub, tempting me. I think, Why not give into this wild need to go a little nuts? Besides, I’m with the right man to push me over the edge—literally. Just looking at him . . . oh my . . .

He’s curled a finger inside my folds.

The bony part of his palm rubs across my sensitive hood.

And I’m wet, and growing wetter with each subtle caress.

“Bend your leg and put it up on my outer thigh.”

I stare at him like he’s talking gibberish.

“I need this as much as you do.” He grins like a madman, a daredevil, a man who can steal your breath away then have you begging he steal more of it. And just like that, I’m a goner.

I bend, lift my leg, and anchor it on top of his thigh. “Stop . . . talking. Or they’ll hear you,” I whisper, my tone hoarse with excitement.

Naughty. Oh so naughty, and I want it.

“Fireball,” he murmurs, “I’m going to be struggling right along with you not to give our hiding spot away. I promise you that.”

“Misery loves company,” I add, then moan as he thrusts a digit into my slick channel.

“The best kind of misery.”

Slowly, so very slowly, he slides his finger in and out, and I’m in heaven. I feel his thumb pressing into my nub as his finger drags along the walls of my channel.

“You’re wet but tight,” he breathes into my ear, “I’m going to work another finger inside. Nod if that’s okay.”

“Do it,” I demand.

As promised, he pushes a second in alongside the first. Slowly at first, then quickening the pace. I can’t help but tilt my hips along with each stroke. It’s not long before I feel the climax building up inside me.

I moan.

“Coming,” he whispers so quietly, I barely catch his question.

“Almost. Sweet Mary . . .”

“No. They’re coming. Footsteps.” He winks at me, rolling his thumb once again over my sensitive hood while his fingers plunge into me and withdraw. Once. Twice. Three times. Until my body is shaking with need.

I jerk at the sound of a voice close by. “The trail Jaxson left behind was goddamn amateurish. Like he wants us to find him. He’s around here somewhere.”

My eyebrows lift high enough to touch the tree overhead.

His smirk is full of mischief.

And, holy sweet Mary, if his tongue is anything like his fingers . . . I clamp my lips shut, holding back my moan. Yes, oh yes.

“Check around.”

No, oh no.

“Over here,” someone shouts at the same time I arch my hips toward Jaxson and pray that the mewing sound going off in my head doesn’t work its way out of my mouth.

I struggle to keep quiet, to still my movements, to not give us away. And I curse Jaxson for putting me in this situation, for masterfully bringing me to the edge, to make me want to shout out my climax, only to have to dig deep not to do so.

My eyes meet his, and without my making a sound, I crest. My pleasure clear as day in what has to be the most blissful expression known to womankind. Which, I silently gasp, is reflected in the hottest look known to mankind that crosses over his face.

Sweet mother of God. This man is going to be the death of me.

“That was fucking beautiful.”

I blush. “Shhh. They’ll hear you.”

“They’re gone, off on a wild-goose chase. I ran ahead and planted a few less-than-subtle trail marks. Still, we better head back.” He removes his hand from beneath my sweatpants, shifts my leg off his thigh, and rolls out from beneath the tree. I squeeze my eyes shut, briefly, disbelieving what I’ve just done, then slide out after him.

He offers me a hand up.

“You’re insane,” I mumble.

“And you’re beautiful.” 

ROGUE is now available to buy from all major ebook retailers (click image above for direct link).

Follow Lady Smut for more great guest posts!

Michele Mannon creates characters who are far from perfect; who are likely to be knee-deep in trouble, heart-first in love and at wits’ end when life unexpectedly, unequivocally turns to hell. Her debut series, Worth the Fight, received two Romantic Times Magazine Top Picks. Her new sexy romantic suspense series with St. Martin’s Press, Deadliest Lies, releases in August 2016, beginning with ROGUE, a story about what happens when your own organization sends a hit man after you mistakenly, heart-wrenchingly kill your lover. Michele lives in Pennsylvania but likes traveling to exotic places, including the NJ shore. She’s fond of skinny cinnamon dolce lattes, quick-witted, Irish-accented men, a good story, and lots and lots of laughter.

For more information about Michele, please visit her website: http://www.michelemannon.com.

 

 

 

 

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 14: “That what you had in mind?”

Hayden’s cock twitched, and the first spurt of his hot cum rolled down the back of Rachelle’s throat. She kept him in, widening even more, letting him fuck her mouth as hard and fast as he could. Somehow, he managed to keep his mouth on her pussy, zeroing in on her clit. Her release came with a hard tremor, making her legs tense and her back lift off the bed. He thrust and jerked. She stilled and gave her body over to him. They melted together, becoming one explosion of sex.

Even after the tremors faded, he lay across her, she licking his dick and he licking her pussy. The small, tender flicks of her tongue started to bring blood back into his shaft. She licked him several more times then pulled away. His dick still ached for attention.

“Can I talk now?” she asked, putting a crack in the brutal, sensual spell.

Hayden gave her thigh one last lick then rolled off her. He raised himself up and twisted to see her face. Her eyes were half-closed and her mouth glistened. “What?”

“I’m not sure that counts as fucking.”

Hayden spun all the way around and crawled forward so his face was just above hers. “You don’t feel…what?”

“I felt it. It’s just that, well,” she lifted her body and nudged his dick with her hip, “I noticed you’re still a bit stiff, and it would be a shame to waste that ready cock.”

Despite the mind-blowing orgasm, his dick was getting hard again and the need to fuck still pulsed through his veins. He ached for release with an angry, unnatural desperation and there was only one way to get it. He rubbed himself against Rachelle and as she purred a pang of guilt vibrated through him. What he’d just done to her was dishonest. He’d used her and he was about to use her again. How many more times after that? Hayden untied her wrists, slid his hands beneath her, then spun her so she was diagonal across the bed. This time he would have to be just short of cruel.

Once she was settled, he worked his way down her body, providing a show for the creature outside, running a row of kisses from behind Rachelle’s neck to between her breasts. The stockings had held and her tits were high and tight. He pulled one hard tip into his mouth, grabbed the other with his hand and pinched the nipple. She rolled her shoulders and spread her legs. He positioned his shaft between her wet pussy lips. She was so slick, so ready for him. His cock was hard, his entire body stiff and tense. With one solid thrust, he filled her tight channel then paused, taking the time to feel her tightness squeezing his shaft.

He whispered into her ear. “That what you had in mind?”

She moaned. “Fuck me, Hayden.” She lifted her hips, shifted her legs to spread them even wider, and grabbed his shoulders. Squeezing her fingers deep into his muscles, she groaned. “Now. Do it.”

***

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.

Sexy Saturday Round Up

Hello Readers! Welcome to Sexy Saturday Round Up.  We’re inside staying cool while bringing you the latest hot links from the big, bad world out there.  Enjoy!

From Madeline:

Haven’t you always wanted a crazy PR lady to send you emails like this?

You know you want to look — Olympic men in teeny tiny speedos.  #OlympicPorn.

In Defense of Villainesses.

A celebration of mediocre mom-ing.

Magic no longer sucks! An interview with an anti-conjuror and how he gets his tricks of the trade through customs.

Like plucking away at your hair? How to tell if it’s become an obsession.

Can’t tell if the person you like online is really attractive? Try this online app. An AI rates photo for looks and age.  I tried a few photos and it kept saying I pretty ugly, but it also kept saying I was 22. (I’ll take it!)

From Elizabeth Shore:

The latest trend in sex toys? The touch-free clit sucker. Ooooh! Squirming in my chair already.

Would you like a blow job with that latte?

Your brain, explained.

Virginity myths debunked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Read it already! A writer’s confession.

by Isabelle Drake

I’m not so great at reading my own writing aloud. Sure, I’ve done it. For small groups, large groups, for college credit, and a couple weeks ago, for fun.

For fun? Well, sort of. Partly for fun, partly out of curiosity and well, yeah, I also did it for promotion. Promotion! Marketing! These are topics writers are encouraged to think about all the time.

Where are you going to promote your new release?
How’re you going to promote your backlist?
What about your work-in-progress makes it marketable?
How are you reaching new readers?

You get the idea. We’re encouraged to try new marketing strategies–all the time. We should be innovative and exciting. Relevant. We must keep up with our blogs, twitter accounts, and Pinterest boards. On the side, we’re also writing.

That’s a lot of pressure. No, not the writing. That’s not pressure. That’s fun. We’re writers, so creating stories and torturing characters, that’s what we do. It’s that marketing and promotion stuff that stresses us out. Not because we don’t want to do it, don’t understand it, or even because we’re not good at it. It’s because there’s always something newer, fresher, and more exciting we need to do. Right now that new fresh thing is Facebook Live.

Now here’s my confession. I don’t care that I’m not good at reading my work aloud.

I’m a writer. I write stories for other people to read. I love crafting stories and I’m thrilled that I have readers who support my work. Isn’t that what matters? The words on the page? The story? I think so. I probably shouldn’t admit this either, but I think its funny that I’m not a great performing-author. Sure, on occasion, I have pulled myself together and done a fine, if not good, job at reading. Like when I did my MFA graduate reading. But for the most part, I’m happy to hand over my work for other people to read (inside their head) and enjoy (without me there staring at them).

So, if you haven’t guessed already, I did a live reading of my new release, BAIT, from New Vintage Press, on Facebook. I was at the Romance Writers of America national convention, standing on my balcony in San Diego, wearing my favorite Hello Kitty t-shirt, and I did it. I hit go live. I said, hi, showed people around, then read.

 

Yeah, it was promotional, but more important to me, it was fun. Will I do it again? Sure. Will I worry about how well I perform? Nope. Not at all. The only thing I’ll be concerned about it whether or not people have a good time.

***

Here at Lady Smut, we love to know what’s on your mind, so comment and let us know what you’re thinking. And follow too, for all the news you need–and want.

***

Want to check out Isabelle Drake’s next live reading? Come find her on Facebook. Cuckold Beach 3, her newest release is the third in her smexy Cuckold Beach series is available now for preorder.

Why #WeWantAquaManNOW: Jason Momoa Makes Us Wet

Who’s the Seven? Who cares? #WeWantAquaManNOW

by Madeline Iva

It’s hot people.  I’ve been hunkered down inside 24/7 finishing my novel.  Last week I finished and now that I’m no longer walking about like a dazed zombie living inside the fictional universe in my head, I’ve noticed that *damn* it’s frickin’ unpleasant out here.

That furnace blast of heat every time I open the door is just nasty. At least six of my poor-arty-writer-friends are living without a/c or with crappy box units that cannot keep up in this hellish sauna of a Southern town.  So let us turn to another kind of hotness to offset the summer sweat — the kind found on the big screen of a chilly movie theatre.

The internet is heating up with Jason Momoa’s persona of Aqua Man.  I have to say, I never saw the appeal of Aqua Man before Jason Momoa came along. Then I was slayed, simply slayed.  I love it that Momoa was also once a marine biology major.

So while I put my freakishly white legs into the sun and gather up some sorely needed Vit. D, let me list THREE REASONS WHY I’M EXCITED ABOUT AQUA MAN THE MOVIE.

Momoa is a diverse Super-Hero Character that doesn’t feel like a token side kick. Many beautiful brown men would make awesome super-heroes and it’s about f**king time.  Am I right?

Beard-y goodness, people. That’s what I’m talking about.

 Hot beardy goodness! (Like beards? Check out my Beard-y Hotness page on Pinterest.)
Tattoo’d.  Bohemian.  Edgy. Face it, people, I’m bored Bored BORED with the same-o, same-o super-hero thing.  Yawn! Here is a riveting take on a character that explores a whole new side of what a Super-Hero could be.  A hero for hipsters everywhere, reflecting the times we live in.

Also, I like water, I like the sea, and allllllllll the mysterious, strange and cool stuff under there. My hope is that there will be lots of jelly fish, octopuses, and other bizarre marine life a-plenty when this movie comes out.   Not to mention how just watching all that water makes you feel cool and refreshed.

They’ve got him in some super thick light colored contact lenses.  It’s a little like Jim Carey in The Grinch and my fear is that Momoa might not be able to act through them. Anyway–

Here’s what Momoa said about playing his new role:

“The greatest thing for me is that Polynesians, our gods, Kahoali, Maui, all these water gods, so it’s really cool and a honor to be playing a [water] character. And there’s not too many brown superheroes, so I’m really looking forward to representing the Polynesians, the natives.” (The Frisky)

Alas, we won’t have AquaMan to drool over until summer 2018.

In the meantime, I will use my imagination (ahem!) to keep me occupied until then.  I’ll also keep a sharp eye out for more AquaMan stuff online, cause while this JUSTICE LEAGUE MOVIE  preview looks great, I am committed to continue the #WeWantAquaManNOW rebellion on Twitter.

Anyone else excited about the Justice League movie? Or Jason Momoa? Or both? It isn’t just me is it?