Robin L. Rotham's Blog, page 9
August 9, 2011
Winner!
Rose!
Congratulations -- hope you enjoy!
An Adult Excerpt!
Here it is, as promised! An unedited ADULT excerpt from Carnal Compromise, coming August 9th to Samhain Publishing. If you're under 18...well, you shouldn't be here anyway. That's what the content warning page was for.
Carnal Compromise
Blurb:
When you're down on the farm, things are bound to get dirty!
Joe Remke just has one qualification for his lovers—he wants them gone before sunrise, which makes his new bunkmate AJ about as safe as a woman can be around him. It also makes his determination to sleep with his boss downright stupid, because if Brent ever gives in, he'll be looking for a new job.
Brent Andersen knows sex with his right-hand man Joe is inevitable, but he's not going down without a fight. Putting the new female hired hand in their cramped RV was a stroke of genius, taking the heat off him while protecting her from the horny young guys on his custom farming crew.
AJ Pender's bunkmates may hide their feelings for each other from the rest of the crew, but they aren't fooling her—Brent and Joe are gay, and it's all she can do not to cry at the thought. Not that they'd be interested in her, of course, and if they ever found out she fantasizes about being the meat in their farmer sandwich, they'd probably die laughing.
Fortunately for Brent and Joe, fantasies have a way of outing themselves and AJ's are right up their alley. But even three-ways have their risks, and AJ can serve as a buffer for only so long before the tension between them explodes. Can any of them walk away with their hearts intact?
Warning: Flying BOBs ahead—and that's just the warm-up! Strap yourself in for a wild ride complete with ménage, m/m, and a voyeuristic f/f scene hot enough to make three grown men beg for mercy.
Excerpt:
The ride back to the camper was tense. All she wanted to do was grab one of them by the collar and stick her face inside the neck of his jacket, drink in the warm, metallic scent of skin and lick the dried perspiration of the day off. She could probably have an orgasm just from that. It had been so long since she'd tasted any part of a man, she almost cried thinking about it.
They all sat stiffly in their seats, not saying a word until Brent asked, "Anyone want a bite to eat? The Shanty's still open."
AJ and Joe answered simultaneously. "No."
He grinned. "Guess that's settled."
Thank God the other guys had stopped in town for supper. Having witnesses as they walked together into the camper would have been excruciating. Seth and Tim had been sending her speculative looks all day, and AJ felt like her face was a neon sign that said Three-way at our place tonight!
Inside the camper, Brent gave Joe a shove. "Go take a shower while I get things warmed up."
Then he swung AJ around. Humid heat gushed from the neck of his jacket as he crushed her against him and kissed her. The musky, wind-sharpened scent of him swamped her brain while his stubbly cheeks and peppermint tongue played havoc with her nerve endings. She moaned desperately, tearing at his zipper.
"Hey, take it easy," he said as he stepped back and pulled off the jacket. "We've got all night."
"I can't," she said desperately, stripping out of her own down vest. "Now. Do it now. We can take it easy later."
"You think I'm getting in the shower now, you can think again," Joe declared, whipping his flannel overshirt off over his head without unbuttoning it.
Together the two men undressed her, and her arms tangled with theirs more than once in her efforts to get some clothes off them. In short order, she was naked while they were both still almost fully clothed, and suddenly she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her body. How had she gotten here, with not just one but both of these gorgeous men? Her mind knew the mechanics of it, remembered exactly how it had happened, and yet it just didn't quite all fit together in her head. She wasn't the stuff of men's wet dreams.
But they were sure as hell the stuff of hers. Whenever she reread Amanda Garrity's Carnal Deliverance, Brent and Joe replaced the two sexy male characters in her mind, and she was the intrepid heroine being ravished by two ruthless home invaders in a role-playing fantasy. She'd been replaying scenes from that book in her head all day, with Brent starring as the long, lean and blond Grant and Joe in the role of the dark, muscular and ruthless Isaiah. If she hadn't carried a box of tissues in the tractor, her jeans would have been soaked by noon.
"Don't get shy on me now." Brent drew her hands away, and she opened her eyes to find both of them looking at her breasts.
AJ bit her lip, feeling more out of place than ever.
"Sorry, they're not very big," she mumbled. In fact, she looked more like a boy than a woman, with her broad shoulders, long waist and narrow hips. Genetics and years of working outdoors had made her wiry, and especially in the summer, the berry-brown farmer tan on her face, neck and arms contrasted violently with the milky skin under her clothes, emphasizing her masculine appearance.
"I'll take quality over quantity every day of the week," Joe said. "You have very pretty little tits." He pulled her back against his naked chest, and the intensity of her arousal became almost painful.
"I don't know if I can do this with both of you the first time," she said in a shaky voice.
"Why not?"
"Because it's… I'm just too ready. It feels like I'm going to explode all over the inside of the camper."
"Need a little relief first?" he murmured in her ear, sliding a hand down over her belly.
She jumped when his fingertips tickled between the lips of her pussy, her nipples prickling sharply in the camper's cool air. "No, I want you to fuck me!"
Fire swept up her neck into her cheeks. Had she just said that out loud? To someone besides her vibrator? God, she must be on the freaking edge.
Brent bent his head and licked one of her nipples, sending agonizing ripples through her abdomen. "But we're just getting started…"
© 2011 Robin L. Rotham
August 6, 2011
Preparing to Be Deprived
Mr. Robin started paying for satellite radio when one of his new pickups came with a free three-month subscription. I was surprised because he'd previously refused to have anything to do with it. "Why pay for radio when you can get it free over the airwaves?" But that free three months was just enough to get him hooked -- besides The Roadhouse, he enjoyed the other C&W stations and the comedy channel -- and he paid for the full subscription for several years.
But one day a few months ago, he noticed he was being charged city sales tax. It annoys the hell out of Mr Robin to pay a single cent more than he has to for taxes (because we pay income tax out the ass -- seriously), so he called and told them we live outside the city limits and they needed to take the city sales tax off our bill. Of course, their computers aren't up to that complicated a task -- since we have a city listed in our address, it automatically charges that city's sales tax. I understand this. Every computer program has its limitations.
But Mr Robin does not understand, and he got so frustrated after hanging on the phone with several different people for hours trying to get it changed that he told them to cancel his subscription.
Over pennies of sales tax.
Yeah, I know -- I'm still rolling my eyes, too, but for him, it was the principle of the thing.
Anyway, the satellite radio company screwed up the refund they owed him, and screwed it up several times because apparently when he traded in his old pickup, they just swtiched the account over to the new owner's name and then sent the check to them. He got so angry and fed up, I finally had to take over dealing with them, and the last time I had to talk to them, I really gave them an earful.
Then I traded in our old Suburban for a newer one...and it came with three free months of satellite radio. The timing was perfect -- we would have satellite radio just long enough for the kids to listen to it on our long trip to Utah this summer.
But a funny thing happened. I started listening to the 80's channel. And the 90's channel. And the 70's channel. And then I found The Coffeehouse, a singer/songwriter and acoustic rock station. Wow, what a perfect station! I absolutely love it because it really focuses on my favorite musical instrument, the human voice. Nothing captures and holds my attention better than a beautiful voice.
Today on my way to pick up Mr Robin, I heard two great examples--Jason Mraz's live acoustic version of You and I Both, and Sixpence None the Richer doing an acoustic version of Don't Dream It's Over. Both songs perfectly showcased the performers' amazing vocal abilities, and let me hear and understand the lyrics in ways I never had before. I was breathless and lost in my head the entire time I listened -- I don't even remember the drive.
Which is kind of hazardous, now that I think about it, so I guess it's just as well that my three free months is about to expire. But isn't that just the way it goes? I finally discover a radio station I don't want to live without right before it goes away from my radio. *sigh* It's back to the CD player for me while I'm in the car, and unlike my old Suburban, this new one doesn't have a six-disc changer. (Wah, wah, poor me. *grin*)
On the bright side, we get The Coffeehouse on our home satellite system, so I won't be completely deprived, and I can buy songs I like from iTunes, just like I did the Jason Mraz and Sixpence None the Richer songs. Now if I can just get Mr. Robin to leave so I can turn it on...
July 24, 2011
Guess What's Releasing August 9th!
Yes, it's Carnal Compromise, coming to Samhain Publishing on August 9, 2011! So if you've been waiting impatiently to find out whatever happened to those kinky, down-and-dirty farm boys from Carnal Harvest, your wait is just about over. Yay! And this one's a full-length novel, girls, so there's plenty of Brent and Joe to go around.
And look at this yummy cover! The cover artist couldn't have done a better job if he'd actually read the book. I swear, I just about had an orgasm when I saw the size of the guys' equipment. *grin*
If you want to read an excerpt, you'll find it on my website's Coming Soon page. And if you want to read another, different excerpt, come back here on August 1 and I'll post one just for you.
Best of all, I'm giving away a free download of Carnal Compromise bright and early on my release date! So if you'd like to enter, just email me at robin@robinlrotham.com before August 9th and tell me one of the heroes' names.
But for now, here's the blurb, which may change once my editor has her way with it...
Carnal Compromise
Joe Remke just has one qualification for his lovers—he wants them gone before sunrise, which makes his new bunkmate AJ about as safe as a woman can be around him. It also makes his determination to sleep with his boss downright stupid, because if Brent ever gives in, he'll be looking for a new job.
Brent Andersen knows sex with his right-hand man-ho Joe is inevitable, but he's not going down without a fight. Putting the new female hired hand in their cramped RV was a stroke of genius, taking the heat off him while protecting her from the young horndogs on his custom farming crew.
AJ Pender's bunkmates may hide their feelings for each other from the rest of the crew, but they aren't fooling her—Brent and Joe are gay, and it's all she can do not to cry at the thought. Not that they'd be interested in her, of course, and if they ever found out she fantasizes about being the meat in their farmer sandwich, they'd probably die laughing.
Fortunately for Brent and Joe, fantasies have a way of outing themselves and AJ's are right up their alley. But even three-ways have their risks, and AJ can serve as a buffer for only so long before the tension between them explodes. Can any of them walk away with their hearts intact?
Warning: Flying BOBs ahead—and that's just the warm-up! Strap yourself in for a wild ride complete with ménage, m/m, and a voyeuristic f/f scene hot enough to make three grown men beg for mercy.
© 2011 Robin L. Rotham
September 10, 2007
Grandmother's Masterpiece
Here's another one for my Grandmother, one of the few poems I wrote with a smile on my face. She took more pictures of my sister and me when we were children than anyone else -- unfortunately, she was also the worst photographer.
Still, the photographs she took always manage to make me grin.
Grandmother's Masterpiece
I just can't help but smile
at this poorly centered snapshot;
you really couldn't take
a decent picture.
Summer sun beat down
upon our brown impromptu crowns,
two rolled-up paper sacks
a bit askew atop our heads.
Dimpled knees peeked out
from hems of homemade cotton gowns
as we posed, our arms akimbo,
by your net-strewn berry patch.
Bright red sticky smears
on both our fingers and our lips
tell the tale of little girls
who ate as many as we picked.
Your slender shadow sneaked
into the lower right-hand corner
and for once I'm very pleased
to see your total lack of skill.
Whether it was shaky hands
or faulty composition,
you managed to create
our family portrait.
© 2004 Robin L. Rotham
[image error]
August 20, 2007
When Canada's Gone
This is a poem I wrote when I was into those creative writing classes a few years ago, before I started writing romance. I belonged to a different sort of online writers' group then, a literary group, and members tended to be very polarized in their political beliefs and very vocal about them within the group -- which is one reason I'm no longer there. It was during the last presidential election, during which I kept hearing the comment, "If Bush is re-elected, I'm moving to Canada!" This hit my funny bone pretty hard because I'd heard the exact same comment from the other side ("If Gore wins, I'm moving to Canada!") many times in the previous election.
Obviously not too many people actually followed through on that threat, and I'll bet the Canadians heaved a collective sigh of relief that a buttload of intolerant Americans didn't head for the border.
So this poem isn't written from the POV of either the Left or the Right, because it could be from either. It has two titles because I can never seem to pick one.
When Canada's Gone
(or Heaven On Mars)
Where will we go when Canada's gone,
When the last frontier is our front lawn
And all the world's arable acres are taken,
Leaving us only the lands forsaken?
How will we find a place to be
Just what we want in society,
But free of society's bothersome rules
That govern our homes and jobs and schools?
How can they even say with pride,
"I'm an American on right's side!"
When all they ever do for me
Is hinder my individuality?
Can't they see how narrow their view,
Allowing no room for different or new,
Condemning my instincts as base or wrong
Just because I'm not singing their song?
Curtailing my freedoms, promoting their laws,
Is leaving me feeling angry and raw.
I'm about ready to leave this place,
But the only land vacant's in outer space.
I'd better get cracking on manned space flight
If I want a new place to live tonight.
Since no one here agrees with me,
I'll fly away and soon be free
To carry on just as I'd rather
Without a thought for whom I'll bother,
Escaping hate and rules and wars
To make my own little heaven on Mars.
But uh-oh, wait--I just remembered,
I won't get there 'til next September.
That's too long before I arrive,
with no guarantee I'll make it alive.
Perhaps there's nothing for me there,
No water, no food, oh yeah, no air.
At home, these things are always near--
Guess I should learn to get along here.
© 2004 Robin L. Rotham
August 12, 2007
The Stuff of Dreams
Today's poem is another exercise in catharsis for me. Back in the late '80s and early '90s, I worked for a man who just about gave me a nervous breakdown -- Angela Knight would call him a Bosshole. (Wish I'd known that term back then, LOL!)
His name was Will, and he was a "recovering" alcoholic and a diagnosed bipolar who regularly went off his meds because he didn't like the way they made him feel. It was a Jekyll and Hyde story -- Will was a very intelligent man, an innovative risk-taker, and he could be quite generous with his employees. Hell, sometimes he was even loving -- he'd break down into tears of gratitude for all of us and tell us how much we meant to him. We were his family, since he didn't have a family of his own. But when he got into Hyde mode, he was condescending, manipulative, vindictive, and paranoid.
Meanwhile I was the child of an alcoholic, so my reaction to him was predictably codependent -- I thought if I could just be more perfect, he'd be happy.
God, what a horrendous six years that was! I dreamed about him periodically for ten years afterward, dreamed that I was back at work for him and wondering how the hell that had happened. It wasn't until I wrote this poem that the dreams finally stopped.
But before I show you the poem, I have to tell you about the dream I woke up to on Mother's Day. It was a nightmare, actually. I dreamed that the kids and I were driving down the road in the Suburban, and when we came over a hill, we saw that the road was covered with water at the bottom. I crept closer, wondering how deep the water might be -- I couldn't tell because it was kind of around a curve -- when suddenly the road gave way beneath us.
I saw that the Suburban was about to be swept away in a torrent of water, so I yelled at the kids to jump out. I saw Randy and Erin jump to safety, but Jana wasn't with them. I searched the Suburban frantically but couldn't find her. In a strange twist, the Suburban changed, growing smaller and gradually morphing into a long piece of woven material that used to be a boat. I picked it up and shook it, hoping to find her, but she wasn't there. I was standing on the shore and Randy and Erin were still there...and I looked at the huge river of muddy brown water roaring by and realized Jana was in there somewhere. She was gone. I only had two children left, and it was my fault -- I shouldn't have driven so close to the water. I doubled over with the pain and started screaming her name over and over...
And that's when I woke up. Of course, I burst into tears. OMG, I've NEVER been so glad to wake up and discover I'd been dreaming! (Not even after the agent dream.) I tried to tell Mr. Robin about it, but I was crying too hard.
Then I tried to go back to sleep because it was still pretty early, but I was too shaken up. And wonder of wonders, Jana came down early, while everyone else was still asleep, and crawled in with me. We snuggled for a while and then she wanted to play one of her old favorite games; she likes to crawl up inside my nightgown and pretend she's a baby in my tummy again. Normally I'm not fond of this game -- she's about to turn six and it's a pretty tight fit -- but this time I was more than willing. She tucked her little body inside the front of my nightie, her head just under my chin, and asked, "Mommy, can I suck my thumb?"
"Sure, baby," I told her.
So she sucked her thumb and made gurgling baby sounds while I held her close to my naked breast, and it was so incredibly wonderful, I thought my heart would burst.
Then she started giggling and squishing my breasts and the moment passed. I laughed and told her to quit that and she giggled some more and said, "But Mommy, I like jiggling your boobies!"
That was when I decided it was time to get up and make breakfast. I discovered to my dismay that there were only six strips of bacon left, but Erin doesn't like bacon, so I figured I'd give two to Mr. Robin, two to Randy and two to Jana. I cooked them up and then scrambled some eggs before getting down paper plates. As usual, I went to make Mr. Robin's plate first, and when I reached for the bacon, there were only two pieces on the paper towel.
"Who ate all the..." I turned around and there was Jana, clutching the tail end of a piece of bacon and giving me a guilty grin.
"I just love bacon so much, Mommy," she said earnestly.
Any other day, I'd have been annoyed with her, but all I could do was laugh. Randy, the little sweetie, gave up his two pieces so that his dad could have some, and we all had a nice morning.
It was, indeed, the stuff of dreams.
So here's today's contribution to the Poetry Train.
Way Overdue Purging Acrostic
Mystical swirling dispatched by a scream.
Yesterday's drama is this night's dream;
Sweating the truth of a job gone wrong,
Trembling with anger I've swallowed too long,
Eyes dripping hopelessness stare in the dark,
Realize crawling is leaving its mark
In a psyche too precious to squander on Will;
Only in nightmares of him do I kill--
Until now, I recall, lying back with a yawn,
Sunrise will find my boss stabbed on his lawn.
(Oh, I needed that!)
© 2003 Robin L. Rotham
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