Sunday, May 29, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday - The Rococo Room

This week's six sentences come from a recent release called "The Rococo Room," an urban fantasy-ish, paranormal-ish small-town girl in the big city erotic romance:

His lean chest glowed pale blue as she traced her finger around the black lines of his killer tattoo. Skeleton, rose, broken heart. “What's it about?” she asked.

His pink nipples drew into tight buds as she touched his skin. “Life,” he said.

She tried to understand for herself, but life just didn't seem that painful to her.


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Thursday, May 26, 2011

New Release: Five Body Blade (Multicultural Menage)


Hot on the heels of anthologies, novels, and novellas, this week's addition to the Giselle Renarde Erotica roster is short and...not particularly sweet, actually. This is one of those stories with a bit of a ruthless edge to it, the kind I came into my career writing. Like the sword described in this story, Five Body Blade is hard and soft. Hmm...that description sort of reminds me of a certain portion of the male anatomy...five of which are featured in this new little ebook...

Five Body Blade

By: Giselle Renarde
Published By: loveyoudivine
Published: May 26, 2011
ISBN # 5057_1039
Word Count: 3,968
Heat Index

The "Five Body Blade" is a samurai sword hard and sharp enough to slice through five torsos in succession. For Miki, it's not only a coveted objet d'art, but also an erotic inspiration. She sees herself in the blade. Her fantasy is to take on five bodies at once. Five MEN. Toy boy Theo is apprehensive. Fortunately, she has the cash to make it happen.

Excerpt:
“Maybe I should pick up the check for this one,” Theo chuckled. “You must be dirt poor after spending all that money on a sword!”

Miki smirked, gazing at him with false coyness. “Are you my father or my lover? Dinner is my treat, as always.” Reaching across the table to touch his hand, she went on, “At any rate, I have something of a favour to ask of you.”

“Ask away,” he bid as a small bowl of gumbo arrived before him. Fancy restaurants never got it right. Was it enough that they tried, or should they strive harder for authenticity?

“Do you have five friends?” she asked.

Theo devoured an eager spoonful of gumbo, immediately regretting his haste. It burned his palate, but he couldn’t very well spit it out. He’d just have to suffer through. Taking a sip of water, he answered, “I’ve never counted my friends, but yeah, there are at least five of them. Why?”

She sat back in her chair, hands folded in lap. She hadn’t ordered an appetizer, so she just watched him eat. “I see myself in the five-body blade.”

“Polished metal usually has that effect,” he teased.

“Would you be serious for a moment?” She shot him a smirk. “I’m telling you I want to take on five bodies at once.”

His spoon tumbled to the bowl, splashing soup across his white shirt. “You want to slash five of my friends?”

“No, darling. Come to think of it, I would only need four since I already have you.” Theo’s eyes sought the exit sign until she continued, “I’m not about to slash anyone. The blade is my inspiration, not my weapon. My body is my weapon.” Tracing the gleaming steel of her butter knife with her index finger, she said, “I’ve always wanted to take on five bodies at once. Five men. You can be one, of course.”

Releasing a nervous chuckle, Theo dabbed at the soup stain with his napkin. “You’re not…you’re shitting me, right?”

“Not at all,” Miki replied. “It’s perfectly orchestrated in my mind. I’d like to use the timber table, since it’s long and narrow, but still strong enough to support the weight of two men. I think I’ll need to hang the sex swing overtop so I have enough mobility…”

“How long have you been planning this?” Theo asked, trying not to sound like too much of a prude.

“For as long as I can remember,” she confessed. “Now I have the sword. It’s time. So, can you get me four willing participants? I’m sure your college buddies could use some extra cash, if it isn’t enough to offer sex with no string attached. Not that it’s a big deal, but I would prefer four fit, gorgeous black boys. I would take four more Theos if that were possible.”

Finally, he had to express his disbelief. “Aren’t you even going to ask me if I want to be a part of this?”

She stared at him blankly before stating, “Money is no object.”

Buy Now from All Romance or loveyoudivine. Coming soon to other vendors!

Hugs,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Trans People Are Not All Murderers and Prostitutes


...but if I were the kind of person who acquired all her knowledge of the world from television police dramas, I might be under the impression they were.

Why is it that every time I see a trans person portrayed in a TV police show, whether it's Canadian, American, or British, the character is either a psycho-killer or a drag queenesque streetwalker? And, because race is always a factor, I should point out that all the psychos are white and all the hookers are black. Just sayin' is all.

There are other kinds of characters on these shows. There are cops, there are victims (okay, I did see one episode of Law and Order with a trans hate crime victim--but even in that case it was implied the character was a hooker. She was black, after all...), there are family members, there are those characters the police initially suspect but turn out to be innocent, there are lawyers, doctors, investigators, there are political backroom types...the choices are varied and many.

Hello, television! There are trans doctors out here in the real world. They do exist. There are trans people who work at all levels of the penal system (yeah, penal, haha...funny word), in the court system, everywhere! I know some personally. And yet no TV writers seem to be able to escape that ridiculously tiny box they've crammed trans folk inside.

Here is a plotline that is no longer shocking, unpredictable, or even interesting: everybody's looking for the woman they're certain committed this crime (though, golly gee, how could a woman have the strength to wrestle a big honkin' man? Me oh my! It's a mystery!) and turns out that, dang, she's a he! (Or something along those lines. I'm sure you've seen at least one episode of some or another show that went a lot like that.)

AND police/investigator characters can't seem to stop referring to trans women as "he" (that's a no-no) and as "transvestites" (another no-no) which really doesn't help anybody. Is this verisimilitude? Likely. But these days public sector workers get a lot more training about working in an anti-oppressive framework than they used to. I have trouble believing nobody in that environ is going to speak up against transphobia and ignorance (or perhaps offer a weighted silence or dagger-eyes), at least for the sake of viewers like me.

Maybe writers of TV police dramas could use a little anti-oppression training.

Big Hugs,
Giselle

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Call for Submissions: "Getting Better" Charity Sip Blitz

Hi writers! You know I love to support charitable organizations, whether it's through front-line volunteer work or by donating my writing, or proceeds therefrom. Well, here's a great opportunity to help out the "Getting Better" project with Torquere Press. I've already sent in my submission (fingers crossed) and if you're a writer of LGBT fiction I hope you'll consider sending something in too:

Spread the word!

For the 2011 "Getting Better" Charity Sip Blitz, Torquere Press' beneficiary is the It Gets Better Project
. We're looking for positive, romantic stories that depict GLBT people in functional, adult relationships (m/m, f/f, m/m/f, and transgender or transsexual protagonists). Stories should have a well-developed plot, strong characters, and a fully realized conclusion, with a strong preference for a happy ending. All heat levels and genres are welcome!

Manuscripts should be original works of 3,000 to 8,000 words; no reprints, please. Authors will sign a one-year agreement to donate all royalties to the It Gets Better Project, with the understanding that Torquere Press will match all donations 100%.

Deadline for submission is July 25, 2011. Torquere Press general writing guidelines apply: see http://www.torquerepress.com/submissions/index.html for details. Please submit your story in .rtf format, along with a synopsis, your contact information, and author biography, to
submissions@ torquerepress. com with "Charity Sip" in the subject line.

The Charity Sip Blitz will be published in September.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday - My Mistress' Thighs


This Six Sentence Sunday, I've decided to pluck six sentences from my latest release, My Mistress' Thighs: Erotic Transgender Fiction and Poetry. I chose this particular snippet (it's from my TG historical/fairy story Secrets of the Solstice Sacrifice) because it so neatly expresses the both the desires and trepidations many of my trans characters feel in relation to romance, attraction, and bodies that don't feel perfectly theirs:

Pressing her soft lips to his ear, Trysta whispered, “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Neither have I,” he admitted. “You’ve aroused in me the sleeping serpent.”

At that turn of phrase, her body grew limp in his arms. “Yes,” she said. “I know only too well what you mean.”

Hugs,

Saturday, May 21, 2011

My Mistress' Nitty Gritty


Yesterday I put up a post about My Mistress' Thighs, my new anthology of transgender fiction and poetry, but I neglected to give you any details of what the book contained. #gisellefail (I can use hashtags here, right? LOL) So, today I've got all the details for you:

My Mistress' Thighs is a collection of 7 of my stories published by loveyoudivine's TransFix line of fiction interspersed with original poetry AND two brand new, never published anywhere anytime anyhow stories ("A Wolf in Grandmother's Clothing" and "Love in the Time of Instant Messenger"), as well as two other stories you may or may not have read at some point ("Dressing for Dinner" and "Cock for a Day"). So that's...11 stories total? And a bunch of poems too. I particularly like "A Wolf in Grandmother's Clothing"--my quirky take on the Little Red Riding Hood tale.

As for the previously published lyd ebooks included in My Mistress' Thighs, we've got Expanded Definitions, Friends of Dorothy, Leslie Goosemoon Rides Again, Secrets of the Solstice Sacrifice, Spring Fever, The Public Life of Private Paulsen, and Third Rail.












Hate to sound sales-pitchy, but if you were to purchase all those ebooks separately it would cost you $15. My Mistress' Thighs includes essentially 4 bonus stories and poetry, and it's only $10.99 or $9.99, depending on which retailer you purchase from, for the ebook collection. The print book is $18 from Amazon, which, all things considered, isn't bad. It's a beautiful book.



So, that's my spiel. Thanks for paying attention to me. LOL

Hugs,
Giselle

Friday, May 20, 2011

New Release: My Mistress' Thighs


I've been waiting for this day. My erotic transgender fiction and poetry anthology, My Mistress' Thighs, is now available in print and as an ebook. I got a copy of the print book in the mail today and, I'm telling you, it is GORGEOUS. It's all full of pictures and stuff...oh, and words too. Over 300 pages of words, in fact.

Okay, I'm giddy, but seriously--it's a wonderful collection. Am I allowed to say that? I know I wrote it, but I have such confidence in this book as a whole. It looks beautiful and it's full of my favourite stories involving transgender characters who just happen to have sex sometimes. They fall in love too, and they have trepidations and they have issues, but ultimately love wins out. Isn't that the way life should be?

I usually write a foreword to short story anthologies, and I didn't for this one. Only a dedication: For my Sweet. Truly, this book is for my girl more than for me. No, that's not true--it's for us, and for you. That's why I chose to include never-before-published poetry between the stories. Sweet taught me how to write a sonnet. I wanted to open this book with a poem called "Fear of Drowning" because it was the first sonnet I ever attempted, and I wrote it as a gift for Sweet. Now we're sharing it with you. It begins:

This line never to cross, instead we hide,
But peer in quicksand silence, sinking will,
From sybaritic splendour on this side
To realms of pure affection waiting still.

I invite you to be my guest in this little world of a book, to take my hand and come with as sybaritic splendor opens the gates, as it so often does, to those unknown realms. Join me.

My Mistress' Thighs

By: Giselle Renarde
Published By: loveyoudivine
Published: May 19, 2011
ISBN # 9781600546143
Word Count: 60,171
Heat Index

A cross-dressing cowboy, a post-war pin-up, and a wolf in grandmother’s clothing all find a special home in My Mistress’ Thighs. This collection of erotic transgender fiction and poetry by Giselle Renarde makes room for everyone. There’s a secret solstice sacrifice, a case of spring fever, an online romance, and a Wednesday night dinner routine that’s anything but dull. This anthology includes erotic favorites, new surprises, and never-before-seen poetry. From the timid closet dresser of “Love in the Time of Instant Messenger,” to the post-op rodeo queen of “Leslie Goosemoon Rides Again,” all who seek love find it in the world of Giselle Renarde Erotica.

Excerpt from "The Public Life of Private Paulsen"

George stopped short as he approached the Grand Marigold Hotel. Pearl Paulsen! There she was, before his very eyes! His whole body felt topsy-turvy as he surveyed her, from the rhinestone brooch clipped to her mink pillbox hat, down past a matching mink coat, and all the way to her seamless stockings and high-heeled shoes.

Apart from Hollywood starlets, Pearl Paulsen was the most recognizable woman in the country. When she first returned from Europe, her photograph was smeared across the cover of every national daily. Even now she appeared in the odd newsreel, still greeted by the jeers and hisses of cinemagoers. But George never hissed, and he held to the hope that very few among the hecklers held any feelings of enmity toward poor Pearl.

And now she stood before him, chatting with the dapper men and elegant women of her sycophantic clique. Pearl Paulsen! What a glamorous girl she’d become since the war! With her blonde SwirlaWave hairdo and her deep red lipstick, she looked nothing at all like the young private George had landed beside on the beaches at Normandy.

His mouth opened and a name tumbled out. The wrong name: “Howard!”

Pearl’s head whipped around. Her gaze was hard when it met his. And then recognition sparked, thank goodness, and her expression softened. She smiled faintly at first, but her lips soon wore a full-blown grin. Excusing herself from her elite circle, she ran to George and threw her arms around his shoulders.

“Why if it isn’t good old Georgie Kensington! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Backing away to get a load of George in full military uniform, Pearl snapped up her fallen shoulder bag from the ground. Her wide smile gleamed. “How long has it been? How are you? What are you doing in the big city?”

George wasn’t terribly interested in talking about himself. His life was a bore. He’d much rather hear about hers.

“Is that fellow giving you trouble, Pearl?” one of the men from her clique called out.

“Heavens, no!” she chuckled. The late-evening sky threatened with drizzle, and Pearl grabbed George firmly by the arm and dragged him beneath the hotel’s overhang. “I would like you all to meet a darling man I served with in the army. This is Private George Kensington.”

He’d risen significantly in rank since the war, but George didn’t bother her with that information. The clique mumbled their hellos and then resumed conversations amongst themselves—all but the man who’d interrupted their reunion. “So you knew our girl Pearl on the battlefield, did ya?”

The man’s intense smile made George nervous. “We were like brothers,” he replied in earnest.

“Brothers!” Pearl released a shimmering giggle. “I certainly hope you don’t see me the same way now!”

George gazed down at his feet. “Why, no ma’am. No, I certainly don’t.”

It was no secret Pearl had once been Private Howard Paulsen—no secret to anybody anywhere. The whole country had been treated to the most intimate details of her transformation when she arrived home from surgery in Europe. “Private Paulsen went abroad and came back a broad,” the joke went. She was one of only a handful of individuals across the world who’d experienced a full change of sex, and she was famous for it.

Purchase My Mistress' Thighs in ebook format at All Romance ebooks or loveyoudivine Alterotica or other retailers

Purchase the paperback edition at Amazon

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

New Release: Love Again, a Candlelight Romance

Love is a funny thing, isn't it? It happens, and it happens, and it happens...again.
My latest release, a short story from Untreed Reads' Candlelight line of literary romance fiction, is about the kind of love that happens "again"--the kind that hits you after the teen years, after college and love and marriage and kids and kids in college. The kind that sweeps you off your feet and makes you feel like you're beginning the cycle all over again. That love.

Nearly forty years after high school, Karen attends her best friend Frida's funeral and is reacquainted with Frida's younger brother. All grown up, Karl is no longer the scrawny kid she remembers. He's now suave and incredibly handsome. When Karl takes Karen back to their childhood neighborhood, with each lending the other support while laughing together in their old playground, they realize life will go on. And, they may just be together as it does.

Excerpt:
“Well, if it isn’t a sight for sore eyes!” the man in creased khakis called out, letting out a hearty laugh. Was that any way to speak at a funeral reception? She would have liked to escape, but where to? In any case, it was too late now; she’d been spotted.

“Harvey Wisniewski,” Karen replied, whitewashing her distaste with a false smile. “It’s good to see you again. You’re looking…”

“Good is an understatement!” he interrupted, shovelling coffee cake down his gullet. “Now, if memory serves me, you were a pudgy little lump of a girl back in high school. Just take a look at you now! Wowza!”

Wowza? Seriously?

“Well, that was a very long time ago,” Karen replied, half-prepared to leap over the sofa to get away from this guy. As she looked in all directions for some mode of escape, her desperate gaze fixed on a familiar face across the room. Her heart surged at the sight of him. Strange, how a man always looks his best in funeral attire.

Murmuring, “Will you excuse me?” Karen manoeuvred her way around the sofa. As she snuck away, Harvey was still rambling on about the new television he’d just bought.

The distinguished gentleman in the fine black suit offered his palm when she approached him. When he opened his mouth, it was only to speak her name, “Karen.”

“Karl.” She breathed his name, slipping her hand into his. The feel of his skin nearly made her gasp, but she quickly recovered to offer, “My sincere condolences.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I can’t believe Frida’s gone.”

“I can’t believe how long it’s been,” Karen said, relieved to have finally found someone whose depth of emotion matched the enormity of the circumstance. Frida was dead. “Doesn’t it seem like just a couple years ago we were at school together? It’s been more than thirty now. Can you believe that? I can’t. It doesn’t seem possible. The years escape us, don’t they? Frida was my closest, dearest friend and I’ve barely spoken to her since…”

She’d come over to comfort Karl—lovely Karl with the kind grey eyes, caring Karl who had just lost his sister—and now she was the one whose cheeks streamed with tears. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed,” she cried, fishing through her purse for a tissue that wasn’t already soaked with funeral tears.

“It’s only natural,” he consoled, extending a handkerchief with the initials KHW stitched in the corner.

The sight of those imperfect blue letters seized Karen’s heart. “Frida made this for you,” she stated. “She made it in Home Ec in tenth grade. I remember.”

Karl nodded. “Frida stitched it up for my fourteenth birthday.”
“I was there.” Karen burst at the sudden recollection. “I was there for that birthday, remember?”

“And I grumbled, of course, because what would a fourteen-year-old boy want with personalized hankies?” Karl asked. He chuckled forlornly before brightening at some mysterious thought he didn’t share.

Tracing her fingers across the stitching, Karen sniffed away the last of this round of tears without polluting Frida’s handmade gift. She’d rather preserve it like the Shroud of Turin than risk its ruin. Chuckling along with Karl, she remarked, “Frida never was any good at crafting. Mrs. Fairchild gave her a grade of C minus on this hanky.”

“I still have yours as well,” Karl said, almost abruptly, like he’d been preparing the line and was suddenly ready to deliver it.

Reflecting back nearly forty years, she replied with a faint, “That’s right, isn’t it? I remember I got an A plus on the assignment.” She could still see them seated at the rows of Singer sewing machines, recall the scent of food preparation as the other half of their class worked at the cookers on the far end of the room, and feel Frida’s ever-presence at her side. “It’s funny, the things you remember.”

“It doesn’t seem so long ago,” he began, staring at the yellowing scrap of cloth between her fingers. “But I suppose it was, when you think about it objectively.”

Mid-sentence, an elderly woman sitting stiffly across the room waved him over. Perceiving her need for him, Karl began by saying, “Thank you for coming. The whole family appreciates your support,” and then he shook his head as if shaking off an old habit. “I’m sorry, Karen. I’m acting as though you were just any well-wisher. You and Frida were practically sisters all those years ago.”

Gulping, she nodded. Her throat burned too badly to speak.

“Don’t go far,” he went on, easing his way across the crowded room. “We’ll catch up when I’ve done my rounds.”

Love Again is a sweet romance available now from Untreed Reads, and many other distributors such as All Romance ebooks.

Hugs,
Giselle

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Quick Six TNG with Elizabeth Black


Finally feeling better after an icky sicky sort of weekend, so this week Quick Six is late again (I'm becoming unreliable in my old age!) but, without further ado, here's our Quick Six TNG with Elizabeth Black!
1. What does "vanilla" mean to you?

Hetero sex that wouldn't make my Catholic mother keel over in a dead faint.

2. Is there any moment from your life that you remember in slow motion?

My six year long divorce. It seemed to move so slowly time moved backwards.

3. What's the most unsettling movie you've ever seen?

Wow, hard to choose since I love unsettling movies. I've seen many. "The Iron Man" (the Tetsuo movie, not the super-hero one), "I Spit On Your Grave", "Eraserhead", "Repulsion", "The Last House On The Left", "Freaks", "Audition", "Grave Of The Fireflies". I hear "Salo" is very disturbing, but I haven't yet seen it. Funny thing is I just saw "The Human Centipede", which is supposed to be notoriously unsettling. I thought it was stupid and boring. Two hours of my life I'll never get back.

4. If you had to get a tattoo on your face, what would you want it to look like?

I wouldn't want one on my face. I'd like an oroboros near my ankle. And if you come near my face with a tattoo gun, I'll pound you.

5. How many monkeys jumping on the bed?

Five little monkeys jumping on the bed! One fell off and bumped his head!
Mamma called the doctor, and the doctor said,
"No more monkeys jumping on the bed!"
(Rinse and repeat until all five are gone.)

6. Which of the books or stories you've written is your favourite?

No contest: "Feral Heat", my erotic romance novel with bisexual male werewolves published by Romance Divine. That one has always been my top seller. I'm preparing to write the sequel soon as well as a free short story written in the same universe with the two main male werewolf characters.


Blurb:
Grant and Sam were more than lovers; they shared a special secret. They also shared Grant’s roommate, Amelia, who was beginning to get suspicious about the two hunky males who disappeared every month. The sexy trio was not without their crises: Grant and Sam had a curse that continued to dog them, and Amelia’s soon-to-be ex had a bite that was as bad as his bark. It’s a howlin’ sexy time when author Elizabeth Black turns up the – Feral Heat.

If you'd prefer a lesbian story, how about "Things That Go Hump In The Night", which appears in "I Kissed A Girl II: More Virgin Lesbian Stories", published by Ravenous Romance in March, 2011? This is a lesbian ghost story set in America.


Blurb:

Our readers asked for it, and now we're pleased to present Volume II of first-time lesbian encounters inspired by Katy Perry's hit song! Seven returning authors continue to arouse, plus six new authors will not disappoint.

This diverse collection travels the globe and the ages. No two settings or circumstances are alike, proving that women from every walk of life and culture are curious and eager to explore their full sexuality...with each other. You will be titillated, tantalized and swept away as you:

* Journey to Australia, where two long-time friends discover more than friendship

* Fly to Hawaii, for a language lesson interrupted

* Stop in Costa Rica, for a massage in a tree house

* Travel north to Alaska, where strangers connect

* Across Canada, to discover how co-workers release tension

* Over the Atlantic to the United Kingdom, where a concert is more than guitars strumming

* Close your eyes to wander into a mythical kingdom, where women take charge

* Voyage to historical Italy, to discover things are not always what they seem

* Jet back to the heat of Miami, and be entranced by a goddess, before exploring the rest of the USA to discover a host of erotic lesbian encounters!

Join us as we trot the globe and enjoy out-of-this-world experiences!



Sunday, May 15, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday - Anonymous

Please forgive the late posting of my very first "Six Sentence Sunday." I'm still recovering from food poisoning or something awful. It's been a hell of a weekend.

Anyway, here are the first six sentences from my first novel, Anonymous:


“I want to suck another man’s cock,” he said.

She smiled. “I want to watch you.”

“I bet you do.”

After setting her glass down on the coffee table, Hannah crossed her bare legs over her husband’s lap and laughed. “I can’t believe we’re talking like this. It’s so naughty!”

(If you want to read more, there's an excerpt at All Romance ebooks)

Friday, May 13, 2011

New Release: The Rococo Room by Giselle Renarde

Just in time for Friday the 13th, I've got a great little paranormal novella for you! The Rococo Room is about a small-town girl who follows the bad boy to the big city and...ends up meeting a nice guy inside a painting... You know, cuz these things happen in the city. What can I say? LOL

For the blurb and a supremely hot excerpt, read on:
When bad boy Matt leaves the small town of Port Canatangua, Delia follows him to the big city. Delia’s crazy about Matt, and refuses to believe the rumours surrounding his departure. As soon as he finds a good job, he’s sure to get in touch. Until then, Delia takes a dingy little apartment and a position as a security guard at the art gallery. When she falls asleep on the job and finds herself inside a painting alongside Jacob the handsome shepherd, she tells herself it’s just a crazy hallucination. What better place than a dream to find the man of her dreams?

Warnings: This title contains graphic language and explicit sex.

Word Count: 23,000

EXCERPT:

Matt was tall. She had to stand on her toes just to get his top over his head. Pulling it off, he threw it over the smallish bale behind her. His lean chest glowed pale blue as she traced her finger around the black lines of his killer tattoo. Skeleton. Rose. Broken heart. “What's it about?” she asked.

His pink nipples drew into tight buds as she touched his skin. “Life,” he said.

She tried to understand for herself, but life just didn't seem that painful to her. Even when things got bad, she always had hope for the future. Like when Matt first came to town and wouldn't let her hang with the group. She was young, but she waited it out. It wasn't always easy, but she made it through and everything had worked out just the way she knew it would. “It's nice,” she said. Lie.

“It's not nice,” he laughed, pressing his body against hers. Her back met the plastic wrapped around their hay bale. “It's melancholy.”

His cock was already hard. She could feel it through her clothes. Without thinking too much, she slipped her short shorts down to her ankles. She'd never done that before. She'd always kept her clothes on while digging into Matt's pants. Now she felt bare and proud. Her undies were baby blue and made of some kind of fine mesh. They cost more than she was used to paying for underwear, but they were pretty. When she bought them special in Sudbury, she knew they were the ones she'd wear when she asked Matt out to the fields.

Matt dropped his pants in three seconds flat. Though she'd seen his cock on many occasions, it seemed special this time. Something new was happening. As she reached for his tempting erection, Matt surprised her. Grabbing her wrists, he pressed them back against the bale. It happened so fast her heart raced. He didn't usually touch her much, except to pat her head while she sucked him off. Now he held her back with a generous smile on his face. “I didn't realize until now,” he said, “how much I've taken you for granted.” Easing forward, he bent to press his hard cock against her mesh bikinis. She'd never felt him against her like that before. It felt naughty and delicious. Instinctively, she pushed her pelvis at him. The base of his shaft brushed her surging clit while his tip pumped precum onto her belly. Pressing his whole self close to hers, he writhed slowly against the outside of her body.

Why hadn't she taken her top off before her shorts? She wished she could feel her bare breasts against his moist chest. Maybe best to leave it on, though, considering how sweaty the weather had gotten her. Now he had her by the wrists and all she could move was her mound against his meat. Pressing herself against him, she helped his big cock stroke her clit. It felt so good she breathed heavy against his bare neck. “It's in the back pocket of my shorts,” she whispered. “The condom.” She wanted to feel him on the inside.

He let go of her wrists, cradling his cock as he bent to sort through her pockets. While he fished around down there, she took the opportunity to tear off her sleeveless top. Her bra didn't match the panties, but in the dark there wasn't much difference between white and light blue. Thank god for the plastic wrap on the bale behind her, or she'd have hay poking into her back.

“Found it.” When Matt rose to his feet, a mesmerized smile spread across his lips. He stared into tits snuggled close together in clean lace, like they held the secrets of the ages. Reaching behind her back, she unclasped her bra. The straps fell from her shoulders as she curled them inwards. Her bra tumbled down, leaving her breasts bare to be kissed by the humid breeze. Pressing his cock against her belly, Matt cupped her pale tits in his hands. She knew he'd like them. When he squeezed, the condom packet in his left hand jabbed at her flesh. It felt good. Everything felt good. She gasped, throwing her head back against the curved hay bale. Her whole body went into spasm under his touch.

Warm precum trickled across her belly as his aroused cock pumped the creamy stuff all over her skin. “Maybe you should put on the condom now,” she suggested. She didn't want to seem pushy, but she knew it was time. Her pussy felt swollen and wet as she pressed her thighs together. When she imagined his cock coming in, a thrill ran through her.

The Rococo Room is now available from ebook retailers including:





Coming Soon to Amazon!

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Awesome Cover for Five Body Blade

Okay, I'm just showing off now--but it's not my abilities I'm showcasing. I could never create cover art as awesome as that of Dawne Dominique. She does most of my covers at loveyoudivine, and I'm never disappointed. Here's what she came up with for my upcoming short, Five Body Blade:
The "Five Body Blade" is a samurai sword hard and sharp enough to slice through five torsos in succession. For Miki, it's not only a coveted objet d'art, but also an erotic inspiration. She sees herself in the blade. Her fantasy is to take on five bodies at once. Five MEN. Toy boy Theo is apprehensive. Fortunately, she has the cash to make it happen.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Quick Six TNG with D. L. King

I feel like an extra-big loser for being late posting this week's Quick Six TNG, because would you believe it features the one and only D. L. King? Yeah. And I'm posting it late. So, without further ado:

Quick Six TNG with D. L. King


What does “vanilla” mean to you?


Vanilla is my favorite flavor—of cakes, ice cream, frozen yogurt, sandwich cookies, etc. I’m not a chocolate fan. Vanilla, however, isn’t a word anyone who knows me would use to describe me. Just sayin’…


Is there any moment from your life that you remember in slow motion?


Freshman year of college: My dorm stairwell. Floor-to-ceiling glass. A storm. A first kiss. A bolt of lightening seen through the window, with thunder following only a split second later, the exact moment our mouths met. Cheesy romance plot? Nope. It actually happened. It felt like slow motion then and I still remember it that way.


What’s the most unsettling movie you’ve ever seen?


After Life with Liam Neeson. Unsettling in the extreme. I hated it but it has steadfastly refused to leave my consciousness. I’m actually mad at Liam Neeson for making the film, because I used to love him…


If you had to get a tattoo on your face, what would you want it to look like?


But, I don’t want a tattoo on my face. (whine, whine, whine) I used to think a tear would be nice, until I found out that had to do with time in prison, so I’ve since decided I don’t want a tear on my face, not having actually been convicted of anything and having to serve time. So, I suppose if I had to have something, it would be a small (and I do mean small, think Phoebe from Friends small) blue crescent moon, just below the outside of my right eye. It would match the big ones I have above my ass.


How many monkeys jumping on the bed?


No more monkeys jumping on the bed. ‘Nuff said.


Which of the books or stories you’ve written is your favorite?


No! But I can’t choose! So I’m going to go with blatant commercialism and promote my latest anthology. I’m the editor, but I also have a story in it. Does that count?


Carnal Machines: Steampunk Erotica from Cleis Press


This book seriously rocks and I’m really proud of it. There are fourteen stories in the book and while primarily straight, three are lesbian and one is gay. Here’s part of the back cover blurb:


For such a tightly laced age, Victorians spent a lot of time thinking about things carnal—proving, of course, that what is repressed will be even more exciting once the corset is unlaced…


Carnal Machines takes you to another world filled with brothels, flying machines, steam-powered sex toys, manor houses and spiritualist societies—even Doctor Watson makes a house call. Fantastic, fantasy-filled and stoked to full power, Carnal Machines is a steamy read that guarantees many happy endings.


Buy link: http://www.amazon.com/Carnal-Machines-Steampunk-D-L-King/dp/1573446548/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1301803149&sr=1-1