Hot Topic: Tattoos

Today's Topic:

Tattoos

This weeks hot topic is tattoos because I just spent all evening (Sunday) watching my husband get one. I'm a little wishy-washy on tattoos depending on what they are, but if they're done right I think they're hot. What do you think? Are tattoos sexy, or trashy?

Author Interview: Amber Green

Author Name: Amber Green
Year started writing for LI: 2007
Titles: The Huntsmen 1: Lights Out!, The Huntsmen 2: Bareback
Web Page: www.ShapeshiftersInLust.com

What genre do you write in, and why? How did you come up with your paranormal characters? How do you decide what their powers and history are?

The shadowy edges of reality fascinate me. I like thinking about the differences one change in standard reality would make, and the difference each of those differences would make. I also like to think that keeping my rules very close to standard reality will intensify the effect of the nonstandard reality.

The basic departure for this reality is the existence of huntsmen, who fit pretty much within the standard definition of human except in that they have the potential to become nonhuman. The nonhuman form, in contemporary English called a hyde, is the the hairy man of the wilderness that appears in almost every culture. In Britain, he was a woodiwoe; in most of the US he's Bigfoot. When Europeans explored the world east and south of India and first heard stories about orangutans, they wrote them down as quaint legends of a primitive culture's hairy man--and were shocked when confronted with living specimens.
One huntsman or another might have the ability to see a bit further into the infrared spectrum, or an ability to see auras, or an ability to see in low-light conditions, but having too much of any of these abilities would mean sacrificing "normal" vision because the human-sized eyeball has room for only so many rods, cones, etc. and the human brain has only so much room for the area devoted to processing visual information. The huntsmen have better noses than the average human, but about half of them can't smell any better than a human with a very good nose. None of them smells as well as a dog because that would require gross changes in the nasal structure and the proportion of the brain that is devoted to analyzing scent.

A huntsman's strength and agility are within human norms, but are always developed to the degree that humans reserve for athletes because each huntsman is a warrior, born and reared with the duty to protect humans from hydes and--if only to keep in practice--other things that go bump in the night. Joe, who is quite human, is as strong, as fast, and as silent in his movement as any huntsman. A huntsman's metabolism is faster than a human's, but not fast enough to heal broken bones in less than a couple of weeks.

A huntsman's great weakness is his need to inhale and exhale emotionally, to feed on energy as you'd feel on oxygen and to purge himself of foulness, as you'd purge your lungs of smoke, before it builds up enough to block his ability to absorb more wholesome energies. If he suffocates, whether that happens over a period of hours or years, he loses his humanity and becomes a hyde.

When a huntsman crosses the line to become a hyde, he becomes increasingly animalistic, gaining the dog-like olfactory powers for example but sacrificing human characteristics in exactly the same proportion. His brain goes to mud and muscle and sensory perception. He is stronger, but less agile. He can see in the dark, but bright light blinds him. He gets a double-sized dick, but develops such a rank stench he can't get any willing takers for it.

In a reality that included demons, aliens, fae, telepathy, human flight, pyrokinesis, precognition and body jumping, say, what would be special about huntsmen? But in a prosaic, human-centric world, they stand out.

What was the first story you ever wrote about? (not nec. first published story) :
The Time Traveller’s Daughter, about Hello Central, a girl who was not anchored in any one timeline or reality, and would skip from reality to reality with a disconcerting lack of notice. I started it around age 11, re-wrote it repeatedly, and finally abandoned it during my senior year in high school.

Where did your most unusual plot idea come from? :
Dreams. Nightmares.

What music inspires your writing? :
I like to have a pair of theme songs, preferably conflicting, for each major character. When one isn’t working, I can play the other. Instrumental versions work better when I can get them, but where are you going to find an instrumental of the John Kay version of Bold Marauder? I also like to listen to music in languages I don’t know, such as Russian and Gaelic. After a few listenings I start “translating” in my head, but don't get the distraction of the singer's imagery. My son bought me an album of Final Fantasy songs done in a Gaelic style but keeping the Japanese lyrics. To protect me from being influenced by the titles, he copied them onto an unlabelled CD. I don't know who did this music or why, but I want more of it.

Does your cat insist on sitting on your keyboard like mine does? :
Jackson chins my screen for attention. Her nemesis QP waits until I’m cuddled up with the laptop, then oozes in between my lap and the lap-board. The other cats ignore me when I'm typing.

When you get stuck, how do you find your way back to the writing? :
By reading.

The Personal stuff:

TWELVE WAYS TO TELL I'M A GEEK

I like playing online games in Dutch, a language with which I am only passingly familiar. Thinking of "shops" as "winkels" and trying out different ways to pronounce "Dreigende Gelei Klodders" never fails to make me grin.

Computers outnumber people in my house.

All but one of them is lying around in pieces at the moment.

I know pi to a dozen places. Almost. Or I used to. Really. I wrote a fan letter after hearing "White and Nerdy." And the answer is Picard.

As an 18-year-old English major, I bopped into my faculty advisor’s office and asked whether I should take general chemistry 1101 or "honors general chemistry for majors" as my mandatory science class. He said, "If it were me, there wouldn’t be any question at all." I said "Thanks!" and bopped out. Took a few weeks to realize he’d meant something along the lines of, "Are you flipping crazy?"

My first rejection letter was from The Dragon. They said I was taking too technical an approach to [the ecology of] a fantasy universe. A year later, they began running a series of articles exactly like what I had proposed. My fingerprints on the world of DnD. Yup. :)

I have been known to use "grok" and "Talleyrand" in the same sentence.

I used the term "cognitive dissonance" in an erotic romance.

I have never studied the Klingon language, but I could give a five-minute off-the-cuff speech comparing Hamlet's "to be or not to be" soliloquy as recited in the Klingon language to the Bill of Rights as recited in NewSpeak.

I can spell "soliloquy" and "ecdysiastic."

I read reference books for fun. I can, without getting up from this chair, reach two translations of Sun Tzu, five issues of Osprey, a handful of books on the Napoleonic Wars, a book on Spanish for Law Enforcement Personnel, three dictionaries, and two 19th century manuals on household management. A collection of medieval reference works holds down the other end of the table.

I play tank battles for fun. I can lose Kursk as easily playing the Germans as I can playing the Russians.

Writing the Fantasy

Maybe it's just me. But I have a ton of stories sitting in a pending folder on my computer. So many ideas and not enough time to get to them all. As soon as I cross off one idea, finishing the manuscript, another three ideas will hit. I'll add them to my folder,realizing I've finished one book yet still need to write three more on top of my others still pending.

I've had one idea I've been toying with for a year. Other projects took a front seat, so I shelved this one. I admit I have a thing for a group of hot guys. I love reading about brothers, a squad, friends, a group, because after I read one story I'm salivating to read about the next guy on the list.

To that end, I envisioned my squad, a group of ex-military government experiments. They are good guys who've been through a lot. The project that created them disbanded, but the scientists who've been playing God aren't stopping. Thus my squad, Circe's Recruits, are still needed. There are five of them, four stories planned. (Two of my recruits have a thing for each other they don't necessarily like but can't deny--two guys, one book.) I've got a story arc, proposals for each book, and wonderful ideas for all of my characters.

The stories will be written, and that's how I know it's a good idea. See, I'm not writing for a specific publisher, though I will admit some of what I dreamed up was for my editor Ann (hi Ann). I'm writing this story for me, to satisfy that aching need to complete Roane, Zack, Ace, Derrick and Hale. One way or another, even if their stories are never read by anyone but me, those hard-working guys will get their happily-ever-after. My own private fantasy.

Marie
www.marieharte.com

Summertime fun

While fall is my favorite season, there's something to be said for summer. There's a lot to love about a time when being lazy is just part of the day.

I love cookouts. Days by the pool. 4th of July fireworks. Lightning bugs. Picnics. Sprinklers in the afternoon. The lush trees and flowers. Small summer thunderstorms that rumble but never get wild. The smell of honeysuckle. When I was a kid, we used to go the river a lot in the summer. I loved to put my toes in and let the minnows nibble.

I could go on but you get the point.

What do you enjoy about the summer?

Hot Topic: Threesomes

Today's Topic:

Threesomes

Love 'em or hate 'em, threesome themes are prolific in the world of romance. Some menage scenes are temporary, one night stands, and some are the makings of a happily-ever-after. Which do you prefer, the brief fling or the forever angle? If neither, why?

Flash Fiction - Corporate Take Over

“You’d better get your shit together, Jason, the new VP of Exploration is on his way up here.” Cathy hissed as she leaned over my cube wall.

“Not now, Cathy.” Bitch. The spreadsheet I’d worked on for two weeks was almost done. All the data I’d compiled was spread all over my miniscule work space, hung up on magnetic white boards, or lying on the floor around my chair, its rhyme or reason known only to me.

“You’re unbelievable. You’re going to make us all look bad. For once, can’t you clean up that mess you call a cube?”

“Can’t you just crawl back over that wall and under your desk?” I shot back.
This was not the time for the freaking new boss to parade past. Shit, these guys from corporate were always swooping in, crapping on everyone and then taking off to torment some new department.

Besides, we all knew the guy was here to cut our budget, trim the fat and roll some heads. Whether or not my cube was a mess wasn’t going to lose me my job, and if it did, then fuck it. After eight discoveries over the last five years, I’d proven my value to Anders Oil and Gas.

“I heard he’s gorgeous.” She rolled her eyes, pretending to swoon.

“Well, then. Don’t waste anymore time with me. Get your ass to the ladies and get ready,” I said over my shoulder, but she’d left.

Great. He’d be another brainless pretty boy who’d probably golfed his way to the top. Any minute, the elevator doors would open, he’d step out followed by a herd of handlers and assistants, and then he’d proceed to glad hand each of us, as if he really gave a shit, but really just sizing us up, deciding the next poor son of a bitch to fire.

I didn't have time or patience for interruptions or VP's. I returned to my spreadsheet to fill in the last few columns. Once all the data was in, I'd load the file into the program and pull the data together on a map, pinpointing the next place to drill for oil. The game was afoot and I was hot on the trail of a layer of sand that might hold the next huge discovery and earn my percentage of the well.

“Banks!” My manager's voice rattled the metal walls of my cube like a sonic boom.

I jumped in my chair and knocked my coffee cup over my map and me. “Shit! That was fucking stupid. Did you have to shout?” I stood, blotting the hot coffee off the large multi-colored map, not bothering to wipe off what had spilled down the front of my jeans, burning me.

“Can I help you with that?” Smooth and deep, the voice slid over me, tickled its way down my spine, between my legs and settled in my balls with a soft sigh.
Christ, I’d never heard anything so sexy, so inviting, in my life. I turned around.

The voice was nothing compared to the Nordic god that stood next to my sputtering, glaring boss. A head taller than me, with broad shoulders and thick blonde hair, he wasn’t what I expected. He was so much better. I stared, sopping paper napkins clutched in my hands, dripping on the carpet.

“Lars Anders.” He stuck out his hand, then realized mine were full. And laughed. Easy and deep, it rocked me. His mouth quirked up to one side. Those killer blue eyes traveled down my body, caressing me inch by inch, until he reached the large stain.
The wet spot directly over my erection.

One eyebrow and the other side of his mouth rose. “And you are?”
I looked up into ice blue eyes. No one on earth should have eyes so blue or lashes so full and thick.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out but a strangled squeak.
Oh fuck. I was in trouble.

Available Now: Secrets and Lies by Amanda Young

Blurb:
After the near genocide of his race, Teague Johnson now spends his life hiding in plain sight. In a city of populated by humans and nightfeeders alike, he and his brother are forced to cloak themselves in forged histories in order to blend in among the hierarchy of society.

When he’s not working at Oasis, the sex club he and his brother own, Teague keeps to himself. He relies on strangers to feed his sexual desires, but anything more intimate is off limits. A nosy boyfriend snooping around in his business is the last thing he needs.

Kyle Drake’s arrival at the club makes Teague rethink his favorable stance on one night stands. From the very first touch, Teague can’t get enough of Kyle. Their weekly trysts give Teague a reason to anticipate the future -- until Kyle unexpectedly disappears.

A visit from an old friend thrusts Teague’s life under a microscope and endangers everything he holds dear. Allegiances are tested, and the lines of friendship blur in a race to stop an inhuman killer. Kyle’s fate hinges on Teague’s ability to untangle the intricate web of secrets and lies before it’s too late.

Excerpt after the cut:

Kyle Drake leaned against the large, circular bar set dead center in the cavernous room and took a languorous sip from the longneck beer bottle gripped in his clammy fist. He gazed restlessly over the crowded dance floor, unmoved by the sight of dozens of sweaty men and women in various stages of undress, bumping and grinding to the heavy thump of classic rock that pulsed out of the loudspeakers overhead. The scene should’ve had some effect on him, since the men outnumbered the women by a ratio of six to one, but it didn’t. All those hot male bodies rutting and writhing -- acres of scantily clad flesh to choose from -- and all he felt was impatience.Taking another long pull from his drink, Kyle turned his focus to the small clusters of people socializing here and there along the fringes of the large open room. He squinted to see better through the dim atmosphere, searching for one man who made his pulse pound and his dick ache for attention.

A pale, ginger-haired man, dressed in black denim and a sleeveless black T-shirt that accentuated his bulging biceps, walked past Kyle and looked him over. Kyle glanced away before the other man thought he was interested. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the redhead shrug and moved on.

Since he’d arrived at Club Oasis thirty minutes ago, Kyle had been cruised by several men and women. Their gazes had met his for just the right duration; their come hither smiles trying to lure him into accompanying them out onto the packed dance floor or, more likely, into one of the secluded booths in the back room. His face heated as he recalled the way one woman had pulled down her stretchy shirt and waved her pendulous breasts at him, pouting when he shook his head and looked away. She’d had a nice pair, he had to give her that, but he’d never been much on tits.

Firm pecs and hard nipples are much more my style.

Through it all, his dick remained flaccid inside the snug black jeans he’d squeezed into earlier in the evening. His body refused to react to their offerings, holding out for the one man who turned his insides to putty and made him come so hard his eyes rolled back in his head. A man Kyle already knew he couldn’t have for anything more than a casual fuck.

Teague Johnson, sex on legs and co-owner of Club Oasis, was an enigma. An unending mix of smooth sensuality and mystery that Kyle’s brain raced to unravel, while his body simply yearned for more. More contact, more time…more everything.

Kyle had met the other man upon joining the club with his then boyfriend Darren and had instantly been attracted to the tall, virile man. Shortly thereafter, Darren had ditched him for an older, richer, sugar daddy, and Kyle had been free to indulge in his desire for Teague.

After the first hasty fuck in the backroom, he honestly hadn’t expected to get a repeat performance from the sexy club proprietor. He’d been off his game that night, so excited by the prospect of cornering the other man that he’d shot his load almost the minute Teague pushed inside him. Mortification was an understatement compared to what he felt in response to popping off like a horny boy with his thieved copy of Playgirl. To his surprise, Teague had approached him the following weekend, and their routine was born. For the last few months, they’d been fucking every Saturday.

Kyle kept waiting for Teague to move onto someone fresh and new, but he hadn’t yet. The arrangement would have been perfect, and had been for a couple of months, but lately Kyle found himself wanting to talk to the other man, to share things he had no business discussing with someone who was only a fuck-buddy.

The situation was as annoying as it was hopeless. Yet there he stood, back at the club on Saturday night, waiting to see if he’d have another shot at the man he was quickly falling for, despite the knowledge that his feelings would never be returned. Coming here, making himself available, was an effort in futility. It was also a compulsion Kyle couldn’t resist.

He was smart enough to realize things would end badly -- probably sooner rather than later. That hadn’t stopped him from acting on the strong impulse to be with Teague, not tonight or any of the previous nights he’d broken down and given in to the urge. His sexual demons rode him as hard as he yearned for Teague’s touch. No matter how pathetic and empty he felt afterward, there was just something about the other man that kept drawing him back for more.

Finally, he spotted Teague off to the right side of the building near the entrance. The other man loomed a head above the crowd, chatting with a small group of men Kyle didn’t recognize. Even amid the cluster of more heavily built men decked out in everything from leather to spandex, Teague stood out like a beacon, a flame among the embers.

Kyle watched as his lover’s gaze casually scanned the room, even as he laughed in response to something one of the men said. Although he knew he was staring like a lovelorn kid, Kyle couldn’t look away. This was Teague in his element, always watchful, always…on. It made him wonder what his lover would be like outside of work. Would he be alert and reserved as he was here? The thought skittered away when Teague turned in his direction and their gazes clashed across the space separating them.

Kyle shivered, Teague’s penetrating stare as potent as a hand caressing his fly, and lifted his beer in way of hello. Teague acknowledged Kyle with a barely perceivable nod before turning his attention back to the men around him.

Kyle’s pulse thrummed, his blood rushing south to fill his shaft, making it ache from just one simple glimpse of his lover. He gulped down the last of his beer, the semi-cold dregs barely enough to quench his thirst, and set the empty bottle down on the bar. Glancing at his watch, he pushed the button on the side to light up the face and noted it was nearly midnight.

After sneaking one last glance at his lover, Kyle began to weave his way through the crush of people toward the backroom. Teague did a walk-through at ten, twelve, and two -- you could set your watch by his punctuality -- and Kyle planned to be there when the other man showed up.

He pushed aside the curtain of chains separating the illustrious backroom from the main floor and stepped into the dimly lit corridor. The stout tang of semen and sweat hung in the air, a hint of something almost coppery under the stronger scents. The wet slap of flesh and hoarse male groans echoed through the passage.

Tiny booths lined each side of hallway, each cubicle with its own large viewing window from approximately waist-height up to the eight feet ceilings. Crimson velveteen drapes shielded the glass, on the off chance whomever used them wanted privacy. He seemed to be the only club member who preferred to keep his sexual activities private.

Within the tight confines of his jeans, Kyle’s dick twitched and began to swell in anticipation. He stepped inside, his eyesight gradually adjusting to the change in light. Although he had planned to walk to the end of the corridor and wait in one of the last rooms for Teague, that didn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind and sneak a glimpse of the other things going on around him. Looking had never hurt anyone, but it did give him some extra creative ideas for what he and Teague could do during their time together. The man was an inspiration to Kyle’s libido. While he would be more than satisfied by straight sucking and fucking, he didn’t think that would hold his lover’s attention for long. Teague owned a sex club, for God’s sake; there probably wasn’t much he hadn’t seen or done a time or ten. The last thing Kyle wanted was for him to get bored.

Quick peeks into the first couple of six-by-nine rooms provided glimpses of unknown couples in different stages of vanilla sex. One man had his female partner pinned to the glass, the globes of her round buttocks pressing more firmly against the viewing window with every thrust. Another man stood facing the far wall, his ass pushed out, while his male partner held his ass cheeks open and noisily slurped at his hole. Neither was anything that really caught Kyle’s attention.

The third room offered up something a little different and he stopped for a moment to watch the threesome inside. Morbid curiosity kept his feet glued to the floor as two large bruisers fucked a slight blond man. The twink hung suspended in a sling connected to the exposed beams in the ceiling, strips of black leather tethered by silver metal rings crisscrossing his pale body and bracketing his thighs. A blood red ball gag spread his lips wide, his eyes scrunched tight in pleasure, pain, or a little of both.

More interesting than the tools of their trade, or even each man’s individual appeal, was the fact that the blond was lifted to the perfect height between his partners’s muscular bodies, his hips at the perfect angle to accept either of their sizeable pricks inside his ass. Kyle studied their rhythm as they plowed in and out, the steady cadence of back and forth that grew faster, rougher with every ragged inhalation. The measure of their thrusts seemed like a dance, one pulling out while the other squeezed inside, the timing behind each lunge impeccable.

Kyle considered what it must feel like for the man in the middle, to be surrounded by all that hot, silky skin rubbing over every inch of his body while his lovers held him captive. His ass cheeks clenched just thinking about it. On the other hand, being one of the men doing the fucking, squeezing into that hot, tight hole… That sounded pretty fucking good, too. His dick jerked inside his Levi’s with the intense desire to find out.
Would a threesome be something Teague was into? He’d have to think on that one a little more before suggesting it. It was an interesting thought, but sometimes fantasy didn’t play out well in reality. He knew that better than anyone.

The blond moaned around his gag, a shudder running through his slender body, as he came in what Kyle imagined would be the first of many orgasms before his partners were finished with him.

He tore himself away from the trio and continued down the hall, ignoring the other rooms and occupants in favor of finding an empty one to await Teague. Watching was fun, but it only went so far.

Kyle rubbed the heel of his hand over the stiff outline of his cock and winced. The metal teeth of the zipper bit into his flesh, chafing the delicate skin of his shaft. If he didn’t get some relief soon he was going to have permanent track marks up and down his dick. He shuddered. If he wanted to decorate his prick, he’d wear a cock ring or get a piercing. Scars didn’t bear thinking on.

After locating an empty room at the end of the hall, he slipped inside and pulled the drapes shut behind him. Kyle quickly undressed and folded his clothes, laying them in a neat pile in one corner of the bare room.

Naked save for white cotton ankle socks, Kyle leaned against the back wall and took his cock in hand, loosely stroking its rigid length to full thickness. Soft skin shifted over the hard inner core, the friction barely enough to tease. His eyelids drooped, imagining what would happen once Teague arrived. Looking forward to it.

The faint sound of chains rattling at the end of the hall filled the air with a musical tinkling. Kyle stiffened in anticipation. There was no guarantee the person entering the back room was Teague, but Kyle felt certain it was.

He glanced down at his watch, squinting in the dim light. One minute after twelve. Right on time.

Schooling his respiration into slow and even breaths, Kyle tried to calm the pulse thundering in his ears. He didn’t want to appear too eager, even if it was the only thing he’d been able to think about all week. Showing any expectation -- when their meetings were supposed to be fun and noncommittal -- would be akin to the kiss of death for their non-relationship.

No more than five or six minutes passed before heavy footsteps clattered directly outside the booth. The curtain rustled and slid back with a quiet whoosh, revealing Teague in all his divine glory. A snug black T-shirt hugged his broad chest and lean torso; the short sleeves cupped the muscular contours of his biceps. Leather pants clung to trim hips and long, athletic thighs. As nice as the legs were, it was the impressive bulge between them that made Kyle’s mouth water. He knew precisely what lay beneath the butter soft leather and couldn’t wait to get his hands or his mouth around it. The salty-sweet ambrosia of Teague’s skin was as addictive as methamphetamine, and Kyle couldn’t wait for another taste.

Kyle lifted his eyes and met Teague’s gaze from across the room. Teague still stood in the doorway, casually braced over the threshold. He regarded Kyle with a neutral expression, his dark eyes betraying not a hint of what was on his mind. “Back for more, are you?”

Kyle smiled in spite of the brisk greeting. “You know it.” He forced himself not to take offense at what Teague said. The man seemed overly wary of being too nice, as if a few kind words were the equivalent of exchanging a vow of everlasting love. “I can’t seem to get my fill of you. I’m addicted to your sweet cock. Think I could find a suitable twelve-step program for that?”

Teague let the drapes fall closed behind him and stalked across the room toward Kyle. The fluid, innate grace of his approach made Kyle’s heart race in excitement. Teague stopped a hairsbreadth away from Kyle and rubbed the tip of one forefinger along his collarbone. “I might, but why would you want to go to all that trouble when I’m right here to soothe away your craving?”

Buy your copy today at Loose Id!

Hot Topic: Safe Sex

Today's Topic:

Safe Sex

Is safe sex a requirement in romance, or optional?

Author Interview: Theolyn Boese

Author Name: Theolyn Boese

Year started writing for LI: 2007

Titles: The Ta’e’sha Chronicles 1: Daughters of Terra, The Ta’e’sha Chronicles 2: Shards of the Mind

Web Page: www.theolynboese.com

What genre do you write in, and why? : Sci-fi and Futuristic. I write in these because of the freedom they give me to answer my favorite question: What if?

How much time do you spend writing every week? : It really depends. Some weeks I don’t write at all and other weeks I’ll spend thirty or forty hours. If I’m not writing I’m thinking about where I want to go with what I am writing. Erm, Or I’m arguing with a friend about where we want to hide out during the upcoming Zombie Apocalypse.

What was the first story you ever wrote about? (not nec. first published story) : Oh geez, I think the first time I tried to write something besides poetry was when I was a freshman in high school and it was about my Dungeon and Dragons character. A sour tempers swords woman that would pick a fight with a badger just because it looked at her wrong. Cora Quicksteel. Grrrr, sounds fierce, doesn’t she? The story was AWFUL and filled with the usual teen drama and angst. She died a tragic and noble death, of course.

How do you judge the effectiveness of the sensual scenes in your stories? : I send them off to my crit partners and hope they don’t laugh themselves sick after they read it.

Do you ever try out the sexual positions you write to make sure of accuracy? : Hey, now! My Mom might be reading this!

What one word best describes your toy collection? : Boring.

Favourite candy while writing? : Wintergreen Breathsavers

Where did your most unusual plot idea come from? : Tequila. A friend and I were, um, having a movie night and talking about the plot for a novel I was working on and (this is a bit fuzzy now) but we were talking about how my mother described my books to someone (Polyamourous transsexual mermaids from space) and how absurd things sound when you add the words “from space” and by the time the evening was over we had Interstellar Serial Killing Hamsters with a penchant for galactic domination. Yes, said hamsters will be appearing in a novel.

What inspires you to write? : Everything, something will spark an idea and it just goes off from there! Then, I have to write it.

Plotter or a Panster? : Both, I make a skeleton of what I want to happen and then go with instinct when I’m fleshing it out.

Does your cat insist on sitting on your keyboard like mine does? : All four of them do. At the same time. Occasionally, they pull off a key and then stare, wondering why I’m jumping up and down making funny noises.

What is your most embarrassing moment as an erotic romance author? : When I found out that my boss’ wife and her reading group bought copies of my book and read it together like it was an Oprah Bookclub title.

When you get stuck, how do you find your way back to the writing? : Leaving it alone until I can work it out in my head. Or I go onto the next part of the book and then go back later to weave the ends together.

The Personal stuff:

What kind of books do you read for fun? : Sic-fi, fantasy, romance of most genres, New Age and religion, mythology, and science. Right now I am re-reading books by Mercedes Lackey.

Is your real life anything like your stories? What about your fantasies? : Not really, I am probably one of the least romantic women you’ll never encounter. And I seem to always attract the sensitive guys. Talk about role-reversal. They want to do the dinner and chick flick movie date and I’m staring at the latest advertisement for a flesh-eating monster movie with heart-felt longing.

If you were to make a bumper sticker for your car that had to relate to erotic romance, what would it say? : I always fall back on my favorite quote from Lord of the Rings: You shall taste man flesh!

Sex with anyone famous? : Not yet, but I have great plans of at least one instance of groupie sex with a couple hawties I can think of.

Cake or Pie? Coke or Pepsi? Tea or Coffee? : Donuts, diet cherry Coke and I live on coffee.

Flash Fiction: Crybabies and Sex

"How is taking off your shirt going to help, Agent Rayland?" Nicki squeaked. Determining modesty would probably be a better tack than bravado, she tried dropping to her knees. Tried, being the operative word, as the solid thunk of her left knee striking the bedframe preceded another catastophe.
"Owww....shit...fuck." The medley of curses didn't stifle the laughter from the doorway as Nicki lost the little bit of balance she had, listed to the left, and slammed into the nightstand. The fancy brass knob made contact with her cheekbone as her butt hit the floor and the shin of her right leg left a layer of skin on the underside of the frame.
That's it! she decided. Laying her head on her awkwardly twisted arms, Nicki gave into the tears pressing against her eyelids.
The bed swayed beneath Luke's weight as he stepped over rather than around it to get to her. "Are you okay?" The amusement was still there, but concern overshadowed it as his warm hands stroked along her throbbing leg, examining the injuries she'd inflicted on herself.
Again.
"No," she sobbed, glaring up at him. "I'm not okay." And she was sure the sight of her eyes, swollen and red, matched the splotches on her face. She'd never been a pretty crier, which only made her angrier and cry even harder.
"I can see --"
"This is all your fault!" There, it was out.
"I don't --"
But could she just leave it at that--oh, no, not Nicki Vymes, she just had to humiliate herself completely. "Oh yes, it is. If you hadn't let me run into you, then showed up at the strip club I never would have seen that cute ass of yours. Or your yummy eyes. Which only made me horny and Harold wasn't helping."
Luke didn't saying anything, only stared at her in what looked like stunned surprise.
"Now, I'm gonna have a black eye from the knob, a swollen knee, a scrape that'll probably fester and give me gangrene, and I'll never have a screaming orgasm." Giving up, Nicki let another wail out, sucked in a deep breath and pushed her face into the mattress to wipe her tears and runny nose on the tangled bedding.
She'd never quite understood what a deafening silence was until now. Unwilling to face him, Nicki squirmed, trying to get her feet under her, but rising was beyond her ability. Resigned, she rattled the cuffs binding her to the bed, "The key is under the bed. If you'll just--"
"No." His firm hands lifted her off the floor.
A gentle twist and flip had her settled on the mattress staring up at him as his shirt was tossed aside. "I can't do anything about the black eye, the swollen knee, or the scrape." Faded denim dropped to the carpet. "But the screaming orgasm, that I can deliver."
"Oh."

Hot Topic: Cry Babies

Today's Topic:

Cry Babies

This week's hot topic came to me during my weekend reading, while I was rolling my eyes and seriously considering deleting a book I was only thirty pages into. It drives me insane when a strong character, be it male or female, does an abrupt 180 and turns into a snivelling, whining cry baby. I can love angst and inner turmoil as much as the next person, but when the crocodile tears come pouring down a character's face for no good reason, it's the beginning of the end for me.

What do you think? Are there too many character's boo-hooing in romance?

Author Interview: Marie Harte

Author Name: Marie Harte

Year started writing for LI: 2007

Titles: Tied and True; Reaper’s Reward; Mirror, Mirror; Saturnalia; Satyr’s Myst

Web Page: http://www.marieharte.com

What genre do you write in, and why? : I write in a lot of genres, but specifically have been writing contemporaries and paranormals for Loose Id. Contemporaries give me a breath of fresh air, where I can focus more on character than on creating a world. And paranormals test reality, so I can go back to breaking rules with those.

How much time do you spend writing every week? : Hmm, about two to three hours a day (usually at night), except for the weekends where I can normally fit in a few more if my husband will take the kids. But if I’m on a hot streak, I’ll sacrifice everyone’s dinner for my muse. J

What was the first story you ever wrote about? (not nec. first published story) :
I was very young, maybe 8 or 9, and wrote a story on 5x8 index cards. It was about three girls and three guys in the jungle, and the girls had crushes that were returned. A bunch of Tarzans and Janes living it up without parents, and who could turn into animals at a whim. And I wrote it in purple ink.

How do you judge the effectiveness of the sensual scenes in your stories? : If it turns me on after I read it, it’s good. If the words are flat to me, they’ll be flat to the reader as well.

Do you ever try out the sexual positions you write to make sure of accuracy? : Once in a while, but for the most part, I fantasize a lot. And I’m pretty good at accurately gauging spacial relationships. Slot A, Tab B…etc. haha

Ever been told, Um...sweetie, that's not how it works? : A few times, yes. And I cracked up over the editorial commentary that’s rated X and yet still managed to sound professional. Too funny.

What one word best describes your toy collection? : very slim, but I like to share my husband’s magazine and video collection. Hey, what’s his is mine. That’s my motto.

Favorite candy while writing? : Chocolate, specifically those dark chocolate, mint Musketeer snack bites. They KILL me.

Where did your most unusual plot idea come from? : Not sure. A lot of my ideas come from the shower. See the next question.

What inspires you to write? : The Discovery Channel, TV, other books I’ve read that make me wonder what if? Oddly enough, most of my ideas come to me in the shower. I stand there zoning out with the water hitting me, and bam. A story comes to mind. Weird, I know.

What music inspires your writing? : I don’t write to music. No music, television or radio. I like silence.

Plotter or a Panster? : A little of both. I have a general plot where I think the story should go, but between that first word and the last, it’s anything goes.

Does your cat insist on sitting on your keyboard like mine does? : No. Molly is nearly 10 and still hates everyone. She’s so mean she’s cute, and when she lets you pet her, it’s as if you’re getting a real treat, at least until she bites you.

What is your most embarrassing moment as an erotic romance author? : Having my mom accuse me of writing porn. Though it wasn’t as embarrassing as it was annoying. We’ve had some discussions about it, and she’s since “seen the light.”

Most challenging place you've ever written a spicy scene? : I only write at home in the privacy of my study. I simply cannot write with the distractions of family, or, God forbid, the yammering at a Starbucks. When I go to a coffee shop, I want to drink coffee and talk, not write.

When you get stuck, how do you find your way back to the writing? : Sometimes I start something new. Other times I know I just need a break. But I never give myself more than a few days off, and that’s if I’m really struggling.



The Personal stuff:

Any outrageous liaisons in your past? Unfortunately no. If only I were as adventurous as my heroines on the page.

Where's the most unusual place you ever managed to have sex? : In a dorm room. Hey, I said I was boring , see the question above.

What was the most romantic meal you've eaten? : It was a combo seafood/filet plate for one of my wedding anniversaries. We only hit this place once a year, if that, because it’s expensive, but the food and service are terrific and that adds to the romanticism of the date.

What kind of books do you read for fun? : Romance, scifi, horror and fantasy. I’m a true bibliophile. I don’t often read nonfiction, but I do like biographies and the occasional true crime, because I find human motivations fascinating.

Is your real life anything like your stories? What about your fantasies? : Some of my characters are military or ex military, and I use my time served in the Marine Corps as some basis for their experiences. Other jobs I’ve had are good for character backgrounds. My fantasies on the other hand… let’s just say I have yet to talk my husband into a threesome, and I mean the m/f/m kind. Sigh

If you were to make a bumper sticker for your car that had to relate to erotic romance, what would it say? : SEX is not a four letter word. Read a romance, save a marriage.

Soulmates? Do you believe? : I truly do. And I one day hope to meet him. (pssst, is my husband reading this?) Just kidding. But for those who haven’t met their soulmates, I do believe there are people out there who complement us during the different stages in our lives. But it’s the rare souls who finds their other half.

Sex with anyone famous? : Hell no. Those “famous” people have too many problems.

Cake or Pie? Coke or Pepsi? Tea or Coffee? : Pie, Coke and Coffee. But not in that order.

Dark Elves in print again

The second Dark Elves book is now available in print! So exciting. This is the series that started me off and got me noticed so it will always hold a very special place in my heart.

I'm currently working on book 5 of the ebook series and I think book 6 will be my next major project. These 6 stories are the only ones I currently have planned to write but--like the Heaven Sent series--I wouldn't dream of saying that I'd never write in the world again. The elves have been far too good to me in the past 3 years.

It's strange. I'm coming to the close of another series of mine. Kind of a reflective point. Makes me look back to writing book 1 when I had no idea what I was doing or if anyone would read it. Then to book 2 where I was scared it wouldn't hold up to the first. Then to book 3 where I was pretty sure I'd crossed the line and people would be upset with me because of certain occurences. But so far so good. And hopefully people will enjoy the last as much as the first 4.

Thanks to all the fans of the series!!

Flash Fiction: Adultery

It was good.
Loud, noisy cries.
Wet, squishing sounds as bodies connected then separated.
"Oh, yeah, big boy, do it! Do it!" The woman's urgings increased the pace of the man between her thighs.
"You're so hot, kitty-cat. You like it?" The gasps came between each advance and retreat as the man struggled to keep pace with the gyrations of his lover.
"So hot, baby, soooooo... oooohhhhh!"
"Yessss! Yesss!"
As grunts and curses dwindled to giggles and coos, the sound of applause from the doorway had the couple in the bed scrambling apart.
Leaning against the frame, the woman wore an amused smile,"It's nice to know he comes just as fast with you as he did with me." Turning her amber gaze on the man, she hoped the relief she felt didn't translate to sadness in the grin she gave her husband. "Happy anniversary, Harvey. Dinner should be delivered in thirty minutes. Make sure you tip the man."
"Deliah..." Harvey croaked.
She waved away his attempt to untangle himself from the sheets, "Stay, enjoy yourself, you should have fun. I know I will when I get to the Bahamas." Holding up the tickets she'd run to the travel agency to get, she waved at her next door neighbor for six years. "I'm sure you'll love taking care of him for the next twelve years, just like I did for the last twelve. Ta!"

Hot Topic: Adultery

Today's Topic:

Adultery

More than one erotica novel has been centered around the taboo act of adultery. Men and women alike fantasize about what it would be like to stray, whether or not they would actually go through with it. At this time, most publishing houses automatically reject a romance manuscript containing adultery, but what do you think? Does adultery have a place in erotic romance, or is it the one taboo that will remain forbidden to authors?