Liz Everly's Blog, page 81

Sooper Sekrit Love

Secret kisses are the best first kisses EVAH!

by Madeline Iva

Okay, talk about illicit pleasures!  Do we love secret love? Course we do! Romeo & Juliet — duh!  Brokeback Mountain — doh.  The list goes on and on…

Not that I’m into secrets usually.  I have a friend who loves to deliberately let you know she knows a secret–and who it’s about–but then she won’t tell you what it is.  Drives me bananas. Yet when it comes to romance, I’m a total secret love addict.  Why do I revel in it so much? No idea.

I mean, there’s private where people don’t know something is going on between two people.  Then there’s secret where boink-age is being deliberately hidden from everyone.  Oooooh.

Is it because secrets in this day and age are a dying breed when it comes to romance? Anything goes right? You’d have to try really hard to come up with a good reason for keeping your relationship in hiding.

I’ve confessed to my horrible Gossip Girl addiction before on this blog.  It drove DH crazy, and I’m still kind of ashamed of it.  After an hour or two of hearing it from the other room, he couldn’t take it any more and would stomp into the living room and make me shut it off. Why? Why do you like that show? He’d rant.

‘Cause they have *sekrits*!

Gossip Girl was really just one long string of bad romance/sex secrets–and if it was a little sick, then all the better.  The show starts off with the secret that Serena slept with her bff’s bfriend, Nate.  Meanwhile, Nate’s secret is that Serena took his virginity. Another secret: now Nate in love with Serena.  From there it just goes on and on.

Teachers and students get it on.  Even stepbrothers are not taboo–is Gossip Girl what kicked off the whole Stepbrother erotic romance trend? Because my friends, that show was swimming in stepbrother-ness sex stuff.

Mother and stepson have sex at some point.  An older married women and a high school student have sex — she eventually pays him for it–another secret.

At one point the heroine’s stepsister is trying to steal her bfriend — which, by that point in the show, for the record, was the only guy the heroine has had feelings for who was NOT nor ever had been her stepbrother.

Ooh, it was a bad, bad, show.  And I was slavering over it, until DH finally made me go cold turkey.

ROSWELL was another TV show about teens and sex and dripping in secrets.  At least their the secrets had to do with the fact that they were aliens.  Even so, I felt that they let the cat out of the bag way way too often.

So, back to romance — specifically erotic romance.  BEAUTIFUL BASTARD did a great job at the sekrit sex motif.  She’s his employee, but she despises him as a boss every bit as much as she worships his beautiful face.  When the sexual tension and her resentment boil over, she ends up mashed against a glass wall in a high rise business tower doing all kinds of nasty things with him after hours.  But of course no one can know — especially his family who owns the biz.  I liked the story right to the bitter panty-shredding end, but I have to admit that my enjoyment sagged a wee bit when the secret got out.

And even with gay marriage ringing out across the land, I’m convinced that we love m/m so much in part because often if the hero is trying on a m/m relationship for the first time, it’s something he definitely wants kept under wraps.

SPEAKING OF WHICH: I was at the cafe writing with a friend who suddenly turned to me and said, “What’s going on over there?”

I looked around to my left.  At a table was a small group of high school students.  Boy girl, and across the table from them another boy girl combo.  But under the table where the girls couldn’t see, one boy had his birkenstock mashed down on top of the other boys sneaker.

And I mean mashed.  We’re not talking a momentary ‘hey shut up about that’ signal.  We’re talking this is my foot completely resting on yours and there’s no mistaking it between us, ever. 

Yi.

“That. Is secret love,” I said to my friend.  I thought it was piercingly sweet.

I observed them some more, discreetly.  The boys were ridiculously gorgeous.  I mean, the girls were pretty, but sheesh! And–as one notices with some gay men who are attracted to their own clone–the boys also looked quite a bit alike.

“Why?” my friend asked. Meaning–why the secrecy?

“Because they’re young.  And it’s new.  They’re shy about other people knowing.”

I mean, I’m not saying I felt thrilled for the girls who definitely weren’t supposed to know what was going on, but wow.

And what about you dear reader? Let Lady Smut be your sekrit crush.

Follow us — subscribe to our newsletter.  We promise we won’t tell.

Okay, enough cafe stalking.  Back to work for me — if you want to linger, here’s a clip of the best secret romance moments from Brokeback Mountain:

 

 

 

 

 

For F**k’s Sake: Ground Rules For Sex Buddies

No feelings, please. We’re just having sex.

Hey All, I’m off this week but don’t want to leave you high and dry, so what better way to avoid that than by revisiting a stimulating conversation on ground rules for sex buddies. Enjoy!

By Elizabeth Shore

I got some happy news recently when my publisher offered a contract for a story I wrote awhile ago and have really, really wanted to get published. It’s called Desire Rising and is a historical erotic romance novella about a young woman stuck in an arranged marriage to a total jerk whom she actually tried to love. One night the a-hole comes home drunk and tries to rape her, and plucky heroine decides she’s had enough. A struggle ensues and jerk hubby accidentally gets killed. Oops.

Our heroine knows she’s gonna get blamed and possibly hung for that little mishap so she high-tails it outta there in the middle of the night, moves to another city far, far away, and completely reinvents herself into an urbane, polished woman who enjoys the physical pleasures of love but keeps her heart guarded and away from the pesky business on the emotional side. She’d tried emotional love once before – and look how that turned out! – so she’s having none of it. But, naturally, this being a romance novel, she meets an awesome guy and falls in love again. Before that all happens, however, my heroine is essentially living the life of single gal with sex buddies.

In order to make the situation work for her, my trend setting heroine establishes firm boundaries of what’s acceptable and what’s not. I realized, as I was looking through the story the other day, that essentially she’s laying down the modern-day equivalent of ground rules for sex buddies. Or f**k buddies. Pleasure partners. Whatever term you fancy, entering into one of these situations can be fraught with landmines you dare not step on lest everything explodes into heartbreaking smithereens. And therein lies the rub.

Sex buddies are not people with whom you want to become emotionally attached. ‘Cause that ruins the whole point, yo! A relationship is an entirely different matter. If you’re just wanting some good sex, keep it at that – a situation where both parties are only in it for the bump and grind.

As I spoke with friends and read advice others have given, rule #1 on the sex buddy hit parade is that very thing: Don’t Become Emotionally Attached. If you find yourself thinking about baking your sex buddy’s favorite pie, you no longer just have a sex buddy.

Women consistently doled out the same advice when it came to establishing sex buddy rules. In addition to the irrefutable avoiding emotional attachment rule, there were variations on the theme: no cuddling after sex, no discussing your hopes and dreams, no sharing of personal info. These are all things you do with the one you love, not with the one you only f**k.

Other rules from the female perspective included: Keep it simple, keep it fun, no dating, don’t mix friends, don’t ask. That last point goes with the requirement to make it crystal clear from the onset that you’re not looking for commitment. Neither is he. But since that’s the case, you have to accept that you or he could have others. And if you’re not cool with that, you’re not cool with having a sex buddy.

A male friend added additional sage advice: no social events/parties, use phone calls and texts strictly for hooking up, no hickeys, bite marks, or impossible to wash out cologne/perfume, no sharing details with friends. Be discreet.

It would seem to me that having a sex buddy relationship would be more difficult for women than men. We gals tend to get our hearts involved earlier than the guys, and many women don’t want anything physical unless there’s also some sort of emotional tie. Yet there are blogs a’plenty written by women for women doling out advice on maintaining a sex buddy relationship.

What do you think? Have you had a sex buddy? Did you like it? Sound off in the comments below. And follow us at Lady Smut. We’re happy to be your buddy, and we love talking about sex. :-)

 

 

 

PRO or PAN? Or Something in Between?

By Liz Everly

I’ve been a professional writer for about 30 years. By definition, I mean someone who gets paid for their writing on a regular basis. I’m a relatively new fiction writer in some regards, in that I’ve only started getting paid for my fiction, oh, let’s say, in the past five years. Much of that money has come from my mystery series. Not from my romances—but we’ll get to that later.

I’ve been to MANY writer’s conferences and, in my opinion, the best, both in terms of money and opportunities, is the one held by the American Society of Journalists and Authors (ASJA). This is an outfit that you have to meet strict criteria to even join. But when you go to their conference, all are treated equally. Every person can go to every session. Every person has a choice of what to do with the time for which they have paid. Let me repeat this: Even if you are not a member, you can go to all of the sessions.

Not so at the RWA National conference. Did you know that?

Within the conference, there are several “retreats” and chapter events. The chapter events and/or parties usually cost you extra. Upwards of $40. Some of the chapter events I would have gone to had I had the money were the Kiss of Death event and the Passionate Ink party. But I didn’t go—no extra funds for either of those events. This conference is one of the most expensive ones I’ve been to, even without all of the extra places you can plunk down even more money.

Such is life.

A couple of the “retreats” are held within the conference— PRO and PAN retreats. PRO is section of the membership that has just been published, or is close to getting published (with a contract), or has finished a novel, with proof of submission to an editor or agent.   In order to qualify for the next level, writers must make $1,000 on ONE BOOK (not a series) of ONLY ROMANCE writing. This is the membership for which I qualify. Because I’ve made under $1,000 on each of my romance books, I don’t qualify for the group I REALLY belong in—which is the PAN group,  the published authors network. ($1000 is a lot for a digital-only title to earn.) Of course PAN had their own “retreat” which was full of information I could have used. I looked over the PRO retreat schedule and knew it wasn’t for me at this point in my career.

I am certain that I’m not the only writer the attended the conference who had this special situation. But people were very surprised when they looked at my badge and saw that I wasn’t PAN. I was on a panel. I’ve published 3 romances with Kensington, one with Tirgearr, and an anthology with Harper Impulse. Plus, there is the mystery series, which most people know me by.

It is what it is.

I always said I was very proud of my ASJA membership because I had to work for it. I totally get having different levels of membership. But to have these sessions at a conference that are closed to people who don’t “qualify”? Shouldn’t it be up to the attendee to make up their mind what they are interested in? What would be the most helpful for them at this point in their careers? Everybody is paying the same fee:  writers are a smart bunch, why not leave it up to them to choose?

And Then Life Interfered

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

We had a death in the family this week and with this, along with my birthday last week and topped off by a migraine-dominated weekend, Life has thus interfered with my planned post for this week.

Instead of something fresh and potentially scintillating, let me redirect you to a few Lady Smut posts you might have missed if, say, Life interfered with your plans as much as it did with mine.

There’s still time left to leave a comment on my Deacons of Bourbon Street post from last week and win an electronic copy of the first book in this hot new MC series from Loveswept, Megan Crane’s Make Me Burn. Be sure to plug in and listen to the interview I had with all four authors of the series, Rachael Johns, Jackie Ashenden, and Maisey Yates.

Elizabeth Shore delved into the man bun trend (I personally am not a fan) in All Bun Up while Madeline Iva talked hot FBI guys with author Leah St. James. Finally, Alexa Day took the bit between her teeth and weighed in on the ongoing discussion (or controversy, depending on which side of the byline you sit) on inspirational romance writer Kate Breslin’s RITA nominated book For Such a Time.

Until next week, lovely readers. Follow Lady Smut.

This Is How It Starts: Kate Breslin’s For Such A Time

Are we really seeing the problem?

By Alexa Day

I am, speaking very generally, encouraged by what Romance Writers of America is trying to do with regard to diversity within our genre.

I’ve checked out the Storify from one of the diversity-related panels at this year’s National Conference (and you should, too). I downloaded the handout from the excellent authors at the panel on writing multicultural romances. And I would be doing you a disservice not to mention that Beverly Jenkins was on NPR last week. Her reference to the Borg from Star Trek echoes a common complaint I have about black historical romance, both in print and in other popular entertainment. That’s not an RWA thing, but I want to mention it anyway.

With all this forward motion, then, it is discouraging to hear about For Such a Time by Kate Breslin.

In case you haven’t heard about this, I’ll catch you up briefly, but be warned that my summary here is incomplete.

For Such A Time is an inspirational romance between the commandant of a Nazi concentration camp during World War II and a Jewish prisoner. Much is made of the fact that the heroine is blonde and blue-eyed. I don’t want to give too much story away, but part of the HEA is that the heroine converts to Christianity.

I haven’t read it, and I’m not going to. I’m also not going to provide a buy link. If you want your own copy, it’s easy enough to find.

Anyway.

This book was a finalist in two categories for this year’s RITA competition. The finalists were announced a good while ago, and the winners were announced at the conference a couple of weeks ago. But apparently the subject matter of the book is just starting to make significant waves.

Now, I want to focus my argument. I’m going to depart from my usual pattern here by not delving into my issues with the book’s subject matter. Smart Bitches, Trashy Books does a better job than I will in its review. Sarah Wendell has a separate letter to the RWA Board on her Tumblr. If you’re interested in knowing *why* this is offensive, Sarah’s letter is a really eloquent explanation.

I think we are well served to consider two additional issues.

1. The RITA finalists are not nominated. I keep seeing this in press coverage for this book, and it’s driving me crazy. This is not how the contest works. Finalists become finalists because the first-round judges give them high scores. They are not nominated by anyone, least of all by the RWA.

2. The RWA is not really the problem here. Because the RITAs work the way that they work, it’s possible for any book that wows enough first-round judges to slide right through to the final round. If insensitivity or ignorance or anti-Semitism are poisoning this process, then they are working at the first round, when the entries are in the hands of those judges.

Skeptical? Well, consider this.

An awful lot of people have no problem at all with this book. I will concede that it may be beautifully written, and I will not be heard to discount beautiful writing. But I mentioned before that this book was below the radar until fairly recently, and I think the sea of excellent reviews, from Library Journal and RT and others, have something to do with that. Has no one mentioned how problematic this book is?

Has no one asked?

On Friday, the RWA released a statement. I looked at the statement itself, and at the Facebook announcement of that statement. At press time this morning, there were maybe 30 comments on both of them. One of those 30 responses expresses some disappointment, but not surprise, at how thin-skinned and easily offended people seem to be nowadays.

One out of thirty.

That attitude is our problem.

That’s not genuine confusion about why this is offensive or potentially offensive. This is acknowledgment that you might be offended — very casual acknowledgment, but acknowledgment nonetheless — followed up by the suggestion that if we are offended, we need to have a seat and accept that other people aren’t offended.

This position is diametrically opposed to diversity. At its absolute minimum, diversity is giving a shit about why people might be bothered by the things we might be doing or failing to do. And let us be clear — fewer and fewer people are satisfied with the absolute minimum at this stage of the game. I know I’m not satisfied with it.

For Such A Time didn’t final on just one judge. It didn’t impress just one reviewer. My suspicion is that there are an awful lot of people out there who understand exactly how offensive this book had the potential to be, but just don’t care all that much. I do not envy Courtney Milan and RWA’s leadership the job of dealing with that.

I am, as always, curious to hear your thoughts. I care a great deal about whether and why people are offended.

And follow Lady Smut. We’re all about heightened sensitivity.

Sexy Saturday Round-Up

By Liz Everly and the Lady Smut Bloggers

Hello Sexy! Happy Saturday! Start (or finish) your day with some fascinating blog posts curated just for you by us.

Enjoy!

From Liz:

Sex pots of the ancient world.

Big and beautiful woman struts her stuff.

Taking a male pen name. Hmmm.

From Elizabeth Shore

He’s gone (sniff). A farewell tribue to Jon Stewart.

So, um, do you really want to know how it is? Eight women who’ve tried anal sex describe what it’s like.

Are men intimated by powerful women?

Predicting the Game of Thrones season 6 story lines by its shoot locations.

You don’t believe that, do you? 10 outrageous lies your man is telling.

From Madeline Iva

One woman talks about What I Wish I Had Known Before Reporting Sexual Harrassment.

Action movie fan? Here’s some romance recs to get your blood pumping.

Holy lip-gloss Batman! Bust reports on The Make Up Tax.

Surprise! Huff Po reports on What keeps your mate interested.

 

Skinny Dipping: *Best* Erotic Fun Evah!

Poldark goes for a wee swim in the cove.

by Madeline Iva

Readers, there are so many sensual pleasures in the summertime.  Home made ice tea with fresh mint from the garden.  Lawn croquet birthday parties with tart lemon-squares and raspberries. Mountain cabins all rustic and smelling of woodsmoke, swamped in summer morning mist, twenty degrees cooler than back in the city.  Tan lines are rivetingly attractive on most guys, emphasizing biceps and tushies. Sun-bathing is sensuousness itself, smearing ointments all about the skin. Flippy summer skirts are cute-ly sexy, while guys without shirts on are damn hot. Speaking of which…

Even now, when the heat is brutal, there’s something that feels so good (and maybe Isabelle Drake with all her sexy yard work snaps knows this) about the clean sweep of well mowed lawn, or clutching onto the sweaty back that’s been mowing the lawn.  But the best part of summer comes after building up that sweat, when you take a big plunge into the drink.  I’m talking the pool, the pond, the lake–because there is no sexier, nipple-hardening sensation than water against your naked skin.

Water polo, anyone? I had no *idea* water polo players were so fit.

Do you remember the first time you went skinny-dipping? I do.  Deprived of a swim suit, I felt aware of my slippery skin in a whole new way.  It was shocking and I had to wiggle around for fifteen minutes with pure delight.  I felt not only naked, but somehow *extra* naked.  It was divine.  Water rushing up between the legs makes one perk up and feel a bit more alive.  Bobbling breasts on the surface of H2o is a good thing.  Illicit skinny dipping is the best — you get the thrill seeking without actually doing anything horribly bad.

On a black night many years ago I went illicitly skinny dipping with my girl friend to cool off.  Once we were on the point of shivering in the cold pond and were coming out of the water we realized that on the shore were two naked men coming in.  They said hello, we said hello, our voices quietly carrying across the water.  We passed each other, picking our way very slowly through the intense dark.  It was so velvety black that aside from the impression that one of men had curly hair, all I could really see was the top of my friend’s glowing white shoulders.  I wondered if mine glowed as well.  It was all very civilized, and yet extremely primitive as well.  Then we could hear their quiet voices moving off into the center of the pond.  On the shore we felt around in the gritty dirt to find our clothes, until I realized I was feeling somebody’s wallet.  We’d found the men’s clothes, and had to move over about six feet to the left before I tripped on my girl friend’s sandals and we found our own.

There’s a long history of men swimming naked.  I recently read something about sea bathing back in the 18th century.  It sounds awfully cold, and horrible, like asking for salt water up your nose.  On the other hand this scene from A ROOM WITH A VIEW always refreshes my faith in humanity.

Of course, *everyone* remembers Mr. Darcy taking his little swim in the BBC version of Pride & Prejudice.  Different people have tried to imitate him since then, but that first dunk seemed both an attempt to quench and at the same time revel in the sensual passions he was experiencing for Miss Eliza Bennet.

You’re not Colin Firth, but you’re not bad. (Actually it’s Elliot Cowan in LOST IN AUSTEN.)

I’m actually a little surprised after reading a fair amount of erotic romance at how few scenes are conducted out of doors or in pools, or in any water at all.  Yet water is the great equalizer.  Any woman no matter how tall or large can wrap her legs around a guy and bobble about–not just the itty-bitty among us.

What about you? Read any good romance scenes that take place in the drink? Please do share…And what about skinny-dipping? Any fun stories to relate?

Meanwhile, follow us at Lady Smut.  We’re up to our necks in erotic bliss.  (splash!) Ahhhhhhh….

Cumberbitch does Darcy…

 

All Bun Up

By Elizabeth Shore

Our intrepid Lady Smut blogger Madeline Iva first called it to my attention. “How have we NOT done a post on this?!” she mused. Seemed like pure crazy talk, but it happened to be true. We hard hitting Lady Smutters had to date not yet pondered the merits (or lack thereof) of the man bun.

To be honest, I don’t recall a trend in recent memory more polarizing. When I asked a girlfriend about it, she texted back lightning fast in all shouty caps, “I HATE IT!!” Other Lady Smutters were of the same ilk. Yet there are polls showing that women, particularly those in the 18-24 year old crowd, love their guys with a pulled back ‘do. Makes them look “edgy,” they say.

Male celebrities are eatin’ it up like the latest diet craze. One of the earliest adapters was David Beckham. As a dude who by most people’s standards could define the word “metrosexual,” Beck has had myriad hairstyles over the years and he’s rocked the man bun many a’time. I have to say, with his full sleeves of tats and careful facial manscaping, Beckham is one of the few guys (IMHO) who can pull this off. Plus, if he was running all over a soccer field carrying the hopes of a nation on his shoulders, he probably didn’t want his focus getting distracted by his hair. However, I’d be remiss if I failed to point out that this is the same guy who also once sported (gasp!) cornrows.

Beckham aside, the world of the man bun has an array of devoted A-list followers, including Jared Leto, pairing it here with full beard and robin’s egg blue suit.

And Chris Hemsworth, who’s also a fan of the “mun,” as I’ve seen it called. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even Bradley Cooper has kept himself on the cutting edge of hair fashion with his own version, preferring it a little higher on the head than the other dudes.

But before you start thinking that these guys are setting a new trend, it’s good to keep in the mind the adage of “everything old is new again.” In this case, ancient Japanese samuai warriors were rocking a man bun long before Hollywood came calling. So were sumo wrestlers. And Vikings.

So what’s a girl to do if her guy really, really wants to throw his hair back in a bun? Rather than shudder in horror and run far far away, the best approach might be to make sure he at least gets it right. Manbunhairstyle.net to the rescue! This website answers all of your burning man bun questions, including making the distinction between a bun and a topknot, and which products to use for your guy to look his best.

Like it or not, the man bun appears to be here to stay, at least until the next trend comes along and takes its place. Personally, I’m a fan of men’s buns, just not those on the top of their heads. ;-)

To bun or not to bun? That is the question for you, readers. Let us know your thoughts on the man bun – or on men’s buns! –  in the comments below. And check back every day for a fresh new post so you’ll never get “behind” on the latest trends.

Where Do You Draw the Line?

by C. Margery Kempe

No, no, I’m not talking about our bizarre sexual practices, I’m talking about something superficial for once. Clothes: yes, that’s right. People have been sharing this link to horrible 70s clothes and I have been having flashbacks. So where do draw the line? What’s the one item of clothing that you cannot take in a potential date?

• Eye-scorching shirt/blouse

• Cheap suit

• Tacky trousers

• Novelty socks

• Hideous accessories

• Nitwit knitwear

• Colours not found in Nature

What would you vote for? If you need inspiration, check out those 40 Cringeworthy Fashion ads. Vote early and often. Let’s hear your worst experiences!

Follow Lady Smut: we don’t do leisure suits.

The Deacons of Bourbon Street Interview and Review of Make You Burn

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Last year, at the 2013 RT Convention in New Orleans, the sultry setting of The Big Easy inspired four romance writers to create a new, erotic motorcycle club (MC) series.

Now The Deacons of Bourbon Street are ready to hit the road, burning rubber out of the gate with the debut of book one, Make You Burn by Megan Crane, tomorrow, Tuesday, August 4th.

Ladies, start your mothereffin’ engines.

I had the chance to sit down with all four Bitches of Bourbon Street–Megan Crane, Rachael Johns, Jackie Ashenden, and Maisey Yates–at this year’s Romance Writers of America national conference. What followed was a riotous, naughty, frank chat about the bad boys of Bourbon Street, the bad ass women in whom they meet their matches, and all the filthy goodness yet to come in the series.

Click below to hear the entire chat (headphone use is recommended for a better listening experience).

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE.

Scroll on down for my review of Make You Burn and then leave a comment to be eligible for not one, but TWO e-book copies graciously provided by Loveswept and Megan Crane. Be sure to check back for a review of each new release in The Deacons of Bourbon Street series in upcoming months.

 

Make You Burn: A Review

Meet the Deacons of Bourbon Street, bad boy bikers who are hell on wheels—and heaven between the sheets. Megan Crane revs up an irresistible new series co-written with Rachael Johns, Jackie Ashenden, and Maisey Yates.

 

Sean “Ajax” Harding’s oaths are inked into his skin. Once second-in-command of the Deacons of Bourbon Street motorcycle club, he left New Orleans to protect the brotherhood, and only the death of his beloved mentor, Priest Lombard, could lure him back. Walking into the old hangout gives him a familiar thrill—especially when he gets an eyeful of the bar’s delectable new owner. A wild ride with her is just the welcome Ajax needs. Then he realizes that she’s Priest’s daughter, all grown up and totally off-limits.

Sophie Lombard loved her father, not his lifestyle. She’s done with bikers . . . until Ajax roars into town—arrogant, tough, and sexy as ever. And although he treats her like the Catholic schoolgirl he once knew, Sophie’s daydreams tend to revolve around sin. With the very real possibility of heartbreak looming, Sophie knows better than to get too close to an outlaw. But every touch from Ajax is steamier than the Louisiana bayou—and heat like this may just be worth getting burned.

If you’re thinking, “say, that sounds like Sons of Anarchy!” you get a gold star! The Deacons of Bourbon Street is like the Sons of Anarchy spin off we wanted and never got with less blood, less objectionable behavior toward women (sorta), and more seriously sexy times flavored with emotional angst with a guaranteed happy ending.

I devoured Make You Burn in one sitting. And then I read it again. In the weeks since first receiving the galley, I think I’ve read it 15 times. Conservative estimate.

You want this book. You have no idea how much you want this book. But don’t worry. Ajax will show you.

Look, bad boys in leather on motorcycles in New Orleans? It’s like someone made a checklist titled “What Turns Kiersten On” and then wrote four heroes who fit the list. Starting with Ajax.

Especially, Ajax.

Ajax is a total alphahole, no question. Full stop. There are no limits with Ajax, no boundary he won’t cross, no extreme he won’t push over or push someone else over if he feels they need said pushing. He has a code, a fierce, unbreakable code, and that code literally is his life. He doesn’t take people’s concerns or objections into account. He says what is going to happen and expects people to make it happen and he’s big enough and mean enough to follow through on what he promises will be the fallout if what he wants doesn’t happen. He’s absurdly gorgeous and is obscenely filthy in every delicious way and is ridiculously gleeful about it. He’s often got shit attitudes toward women, at least on the surface, and sees no reason to change his mind any time soon. But he also has an out-sized mental and physical strength. He knows exactly who and what he is and makes zero apology for it, which is its own kind of sexy. His confidence is intoxicating and anyone who encounters him knows he’s good for whatever he says he’s going to do. He puts a capital A on Alphahole and you just want to thank him for it as you test the durability of the nearest flat surface while taking off your pants and that’s before you get to his dirty, dirty sex skillz.

Sophie is his match in every single way. She’s fierce and strong-minded with a sharp mouth and a steel spine. But she also has a wealth of compassion that is at odds with the harsh philosophy with which her father raised her single-handed. She confronts life head on, stepping up to whatever challenge is presented to her. She can hold her own with a cadre of bad ass bikers and navigate the complicated pathways of MC culture without a second thought. She is the princess of the MC, whether she likes it or not, and she really, really doesn’t like it. When Priest sent his chosen sons away, it was Sophie who picked up the pieces and kept the business going, kept her father living. Ajax rolls back into town the night her father dies and sets off all her brewing resentments about the club, wraps it up in outrageous sexual demand, and puts a bow on her soul-crushing grief. He is the shining example of everything her father denied Sophie: love, acceptance, pride, intimacy. And she meets Ajax toe-to-toe without fear and challenges his every command even knowing he’ll push her far beyond her comfort zone every time.

For both Ajax and Sophie, the lost of Priest is a cataclysmic event. From the day he was exiled from New Orleans, Ajax has been waiting to come home. He’s pictured it in minute detail and it only took the death of his father figure to make it happen. Ajax’s strong sense of duty is literally etched into his skin, a tome of obligation he willingly shoulders as he sets out to reclaim his club and his city. He takes one look at Sophie and knows he’s going to claim her too…eventually. Though he’s happy as a pig in slop to be back, the club and New Orleans are very different from when he left…and still neither as much as Sophie. But he now has to navigate without Priest there guiding the way and this new shape to his old life takes more than a few hits out on him. And Sophie is basically a solid, right hook.

Sophie has played second fiddle to the club in her father’s heart her whole life and dreamed of the day when Priest would place blood over brothers. A day that will never come now that her father is dead. Instead, she’s left to come to terms with the fallout and the dubious legacy Priest has left behind if not left to Sophie. Does she stay on the fringes of the Deacons as Ajax pulls the club back from the brink, a life she loathes but can never quite bring herself to leave? Or strike out on her own to find the life she should’ve made ten years ago? Ajax’s homecoming heralds the return of all Sophie has enjoyed 10 years doing without: the brotherhood, the biker bunnies, the blood. But from the moment he walks through the door, Ajax spins her world completely upside down. Even as he pisses her off and turns her on, he’s also the only solid thing she has to cling to in the upheaval that just erupted through her world. Every moment with him reminds her of what she’s lost but at the same time, he’s the epitome of what she can’t quite abandon. An addiction she can’t give up even if it kills her.

On the surface, Make You Burn is a smokin’ hot, MC erotic romance and holy crap, does it deliver on that promise. But it’s also a story about dealing with immense loss and struggling to find purpose and balance in the face of excruciating grief–and what happens when the life you thought you hated is the person you can’t possibly live without.

Jump on and take a ride with The Deacons of Bourbon Street.

DON’T FORGET to leave a comment to win a free copy of Make You Burn.

Get an extra taste of the sinful stuff with a trip through the Make You Burn Pinterest Board.

Add some boogie on the bayou with Megan Crane’s Make You Burn playlist below.

And follow Lady Smut. We’ll burn you right up.

Make You Burn Playlist
Do I Wanna Know?—Arctic Monkeys
Devils & Dust—Bruce Springsteen
Hey Hey, My My—Battleme
Sail—AWOL Nation
Little Black Submarines—The Black Keys
My Body is A Cage—Arcade Fire
Stronger Than Dirt—Tom McRae
Dry County—Bon Jovi
I Am the Highway—Audioslave
My Way—Limp Bizkit
Paint It Black—The Rolling Stones
Prophecy—Remy Zero
Storm Coming—Gnarls Barkley
The Way I Tend To Be—Frank Turner
What You Are—Dave Matthews

Releases August 4, 2015. Click the image to buy!

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Releases December 5, 2015. Click image to preorder!

Releases January 8, 2016. Click image to preorder!