Congratulations to Ali!

Ali, you have won a copy of "Poker Brat". Congratulations!

Please send me your email address so that I can forward the book to you. Just drop me a line at barrieabalard @ gmail . com (take out spaces to use).

I've had fun blogging here today. Thanks to everyone who read and commented!

Barrie A.

"Semper Fi" excerpt and contest

Contest time! For a copy of "Poker Brat", leave a comment about anything I've posted today on the blog. I'll pick someone at random from all commenters and announce the winner later.

In the meantime, enjoy an excerpt from my upcoming September release, "Semper Fi", a menage (threesome) story. "Semper Fi" will be part of an AmberPAX collection. Let me know what you think of it. Enjoy! -- Barrie


Excerpt from "Semper Fi"
© 2006 Barrie Abalard. All rights reserved.
Available June 1, 2006 from Amber Quill Press
***

Connie Woods hungered to be the first to take the hard-bodied Marine. She swallowed her disappointment as he stripped away Amanda's blouse and bra, sucking her nipples as if he thought he could get booze from them. Her friend's moans of pleasure tormented her.

Damn. She'd had a thing for the man ever since laying eyes on him early in the evening. How could she make him more interested in her?

She thought a moment. It just might work. Men loved woman-on-woman.

Connie nibbled Amanda's neck while reaching for the Marine's zipper. He got the message quickly, pulling his mouth off Amanda's breast to watch Connie make love to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the man shucking his jeans. When he was again settled on the bed, she reached over to touch his erection.

Mmmm.

"Watch and learn," she said before peeling off her friend's underwear, demonstrating more bravery than she felt. She'd never done this with a woman, the thing she loved when a man did it to her.

Connie licked her way down Amanda's body, tongue tickling all the hollows in her torso. When she reached the delta, she veered to the right thigh, biting lightly while the other woman whimpered for satisfaction.

Here goes nothing.

The tip of her tongue explored deeply between the folds. Amanda moved her hips, groaning. Connie reached again for the man's cock, only to discover that his hands had reached her pussy first. His massive fingers explored her gently while she lapped her friend.

The Marine had talented digits. Keeping her mind on satisfying her friend grew more and more difficult. She couldn't help moaning, moving herself against his thumb inside her while his middle finger teased her clit.

"Oh, no, oh, god, yes, yes yes yesssss," Amanda cried, jerking so violently that Connie had to grip her hips to stay in position. Then she forgot all about her friend's pleasure, because she suddenly felt as if she were blooming like a flower. Nothing else existed except the thrills coursing through her body from one central area.

"Oh, God, Connie," Amanda said, sliding down the bed to kiss her with tongue before sucking her nipples. She heard the snap of a condom, and then felt the Marine enter her from behind.

Her, not Amanda. Yes!

Amanda's nimble lips and tongue pulled her nipples to aching hardness, while Jake's cock slid in and out. With every movement, the sweet fire built. Though she'd just come, Connie felt another orgasm building. As his hands seemed busy with her friend, Connie used her own to pet herself to a second intense explosion.

***
Excerpt from "Semper Fi"
© 2006 Barrie Abalard. All rights reserved.
Available June 1, 2006 from Amber Quill Press

Two new covers...

Here are two covers for upcoming books...(click on the thumbnails for the full-sized versions)....

   

Highland Fling by Chevon Gael (Available August 2006)
Brit's Lip Service by Brit Blaise (Available September 2006)

Trace Edward Zaber
Owner/Editorial Director/Creative Director
Amber Quill Press, LLC
The Gold Standard In Publishing!
http://amberquill.com

Earthy Erotica

I have some wonderful, earthy, erotic photos for you to see. Check them out.

Okay, I misdirected you just a teeny bit. But in doing so, I hope I made you think about how interesting the mind is in its interpretation of objects. After all, sex starts in the brain. If it didn't, the world wouldn't have any erotic writings and art. There'd be no point.

A few weeks ago, I received the following email from a friend. I think it's pretty amazing.

"fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too!
Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 (percent of) plepoe can.

i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs forwrad it."

The words above require your brain to make connections that are similar to the ones your brain made with the "earthy" photos, in order to recognize them as familiar. The facts behind why and how the brain recognizes images and words and matches them with known quantities are largely unknown. But isn't life richer for having these capabilities?

Okay, now I'm going to direct you to some artwork I think is beautiful and HOT. I'm supplying the link to the disclaimer page, so you can decide whether to go on from there.

Back later with an excerpt from Semper Fi, my September release from Amber Quill, and a chance for you to win a copy of Poker Brat, my June release. Today may be my birthday, but someone else will receive the present!

Barrie A.

Harvest Recipes

I love to putter about the garden. Harvest time is special. I get to gather the fruits of my labor and share them with family and friends. Which is to say, if you need the L and the T to make a great BLT, I'm your woman. *grin* I love to cook with fresh, organic veggies. Nothing like roasted garlic asparagus or corn on the cob from the grill.

So as a treat, I thought I'd send everyone a bushel of homegrown Kentucky tomatoes. Then I realized exactly how much it would cost to do that. Ouch.

So instead, I'll give you some of my favorite harvest recipes, from my kitchen to yours with love. Enjoy.

Kentucky Dillie Beans
2 lbs. trimmed green beans
4 cloves of garlic
4 heads of dill herb (4 tsp. Dill seed)
2 1/2 cups white vinegar
1 tsp. cayenne pepper
1/4 cup salt
2 1/2 cups purified water

Pack the beans lengthwise into pre-heated pint jars, leaving 1/4 inch head space. To each pint, add 1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper, 1 clove garlic and 1 head dill seed. Combine the remaining ingredients equally, then bring to a boil. Boil remaining water and pour to top off each jar, leaving 1/4 inch head space. Now adjust the caps. Finish boiling the jars for 10 additional minutes in boiling water bath. Yields 4 pints. Beans should be allowed to stand for 2-3 weeks before sampling, so that the flavor really soaks in and has a chance to develop.

Eat Kentucky Dillies like you would a pickle. Makes a great, healthy snack to crunch.


Cousin Brigit's Irish Soda Bread

4 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1 handful of cararway seeds
1 handful currants
1 handful raisins
1 well-beaten egg
1 1/3 cups buttermilk
1/2 cup margarine

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Knead all of the above ingredients in a large bowl. Cover with wax paper and allow to rest for 15 minutes. Place on cookie sheet in the form of a large, somewhat flattened ball and make a cross on top of the bread. Bake for 1 hour at 375 degrees. Let cool before serving. Melt a stick of butter and add 1 tablespoon of honey. Whip until honey is evenly distributed. Drizzle honey/butter mixture over warm, sliced soda bread.

Aunt Edith's Spoon Bread
1/2 cup cornmeal
4 tbsp. butter, melted
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup buttermilk
2 eggs, well beaten
2 tbsp. sugar
1 1/4 cups boiling water
1/2 tsp. baking soda

Pour boiling water over cornmeal and stir thoroughly. Add all other ingredients. Pour into a well-greased casserole dish and bake at 400 degrees for about 30 minutes. Serves 4. Recipe can be doubled or easily tripled if you have more guests.

Grilled Peppers and Onions with Thyme and Basil
4 firm red bell peppers
4 firm green bell peppers
4 firm yellow bell peppers
4 medium sized onions
2 handfuls of fresh thyme sprigs
1/3 cup fresh sweet Italian basil
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 metal skewers

To prepare the grill: Remove the grill rack. Then heat the coals until hot. Throw thyme sprigs on hot coals to flavor and scent any meat, fish or veggies with their aroma.

Take peppers and cut into quarters, removing any remaining seeds. Peel onions and quarter. Divide veggies evenly and push onto skewers. Place on rack and return rack to grill, about 4 to 5 inches from heat source. Grill for 2-3 minutes, then turn skewers and grill for another 2-3 minutes, (peppers should be slightly charred, but not completely blackened). Remove from heat and place on plate. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with fresh basil.

Lughnassadh and the Cup of Fate

In my book, Cup of Fate, the hero waits for destiny to bring him his greatest love–unsuspecting yard sale shopper, Bryn Tuttle.

I had to come up with a name for my hero. It had to sound virile, conjuring images of powerful, rippled muscles, tanned flesh and a dominant personality. Very butch, but with a tender and sometimes gentle side.

A man secure in his powers and abilities, who knew how to touch a woman and make her instantly melt. He had to be more than simply comfortable surrounded by nature–he needed to be in command of it. The more I discovered his character, the more I realized only one name would suit. Lugh. The Sun King, God of the Harvest and Lord of Abundance.

Once I realized who my hero really was, I set about reinforcing the connections between Lugh ap Kernun and Lugh, Celtic God of Harvest.

For those who honor the old ways, the first of August is Lammas. It is a celebration of the harvest and all of nature’s bounty. In the Celtic tradition, this celebration or festival of the Sun God is known as Lughnassadh and is held on August 7. Named in honor of Lugh, God of harvest, fire and light, the Sun King, in his aspect as Dark Lord, gives his energy to all the crops to ensure life while the Mother prepares to give way to her aspect as the Crone.

To the ancient Celtic peoples Lughnassadh was considered the perfect time to pass on what you have learned, to share your abundance with good cheer and good friends. Children were taught how to bake bread and teenagers taught how to make corn dollies.

A feast table was set with items such as: corn, potatoes, barley cakes, apples, rice, succulent berries, summer squash, roast pig or lamb and of course, all manner of fresh homemade breads served with real butter.

According to folklore, it is considered good luck to plant the seeds from any fruit eaten that day.

A fine vat of elderberry or witchwood wine* would be prepared in advance and ready to be sampled on Lammas or Lughnassadh.

Today, you’ll find there are still groups of people who celebrate the harvest festival, and much in the same way as their ancestors. Allow Lammas and Lughnassadh to replenish your spirit. A relaxing visit to the lake, an orchard, or the countryside, allows the whole family to reconnection with nature. Share the bounty of your labours with those you hold dear and help those in need.

*For those of you who wish to celebrate Lughnassadh, but want something non-alcoholic, sun tea can be substituted. Add a sprig of lemon verbena or lemon balm (sweet melissa) for fun.

Check out Cassandra's website and blog for more information on upcoming books, chats and contests.

Sexy Glands

A friend of mine is a Body Talk practitioner. Body Talk is a relatively new field of health and wellness that she describes as “an internal massage—from the inside out”. Hmm, you might think, I’d rather just have my outside massaged, thank you very much!
Now, I’m definitely a huge fan of external massage therapy. Nothing better relieves the muscle tension caused by sitting and writing, or standing long hours, or from working out at the gym. Over the years I’ve learned that in easing out the knots of tension (which feels downright blissful), the massage therapist is pushing out acids that develop and accrue in overused muscle fibers. Clearing them helps rid our bodies of aches and pains—a delicious experience that’s good for us, too. My Body Talk friend says we also benefit from keeping the glandular system clear.

I began wondering about this, which I frequently do when presented with new ideas. An inner massage throughout my glandular system? But—just what the heck is the glandular system, anyway?
I then did what most writers do after pondering their lack of knowledge on a particular subject: I looked it up, in books and on the internet.
In reading about glands, I began to grasp the basics of how they function. But, since I’m an erotica writer and not a health care practitioner, I perceived the process as being rather sexy!

I discovered the glandular system is responsible for producing hormones in our bodies. The organ tract involved starts within our brains and moves down through our torsos, concluding in our sex organs. The hormonal activity commencing in our brains occurs within a segment where the earliest part of human evolution still nestles within us, called the reptilian brain.

Ee-ooh, I thought, I don’t have a reptile within. But we do, we all do. It’s the part of our brain that links us to the past, the era when the ape-man was busy evolving into the fantastic species we drool over today. The reptilian brain activity regulates breathing, heart rate, and the fight or flight mechanism that kicks in when danger is near. It also regulates the primitive emotions of love, hate, fear, lust and contentment, all springing from the search for mating opportunities…ah, primitive emotions. Now we’re getting somewhere.

Evolution has, of course, layered over the reptilian brain with organ growth that provides us with intellectual abilities and (to greater and lesser degrees) the capacity for rational thought. But when a strong emotion overtakes our ability to manage our emotions and we give into the rage, or lust, or whatever primitive passion has been aroused—our reptilian side rules! Actually, I did see two alligators mating in the canal behind my mother’s house in Florida a couple of years ago; I’ll never forget how those waters were wild with the unrestrained activities of such a primal affair.

So, the next time you catch yourself staring at a member of the modern species we call a hottie, take note of the rush in your belly and the tingle in your private parts. The primal urge coursing through your body is linking you with all eternity, in a way, as the ancient call of the wild ignites your inner passions.
Now, I think that’s rather sexy. My Body Talk friend, of course, would remind me to keep it clean—-but she means my glands and not my thoughts!

—-Shara Bloodstone…steamy tales of urban life.

To find out more about Body Talk, see: www.bodytalksystem.com/
For my novella entitled “Urban Ambrosia” see: www.amberheat.com/
Look for my upcoming AQP release entitled “Private Audition”.

It's Getting Hot In Here...Blue Silver: Making Noise

The Blue Silver Pax has arrived! If you've read and fallen in love with one Blue Silver character, I urge you to check out another title. All stories (as some of you may have heard) are entwined, have overlapping scenes.

And, um, my Making Noise received a Heat Level rating of three. Wow, it's getting hot in here. I never expected a story about a youth counselor hiding her sexuality and a musician struggling to hide in the shadows of the limelight to take me to places such as...well, you should really read for yourself. In the following excerpt, Faith has just emerged from a self-love shower to find her best friend Marci and two members of Blue Silver in her hotel room. Marci (thanks to Jacki King for writing such a spunky character) started a game of Truth or Dare. Faith chose "truth", but Marci's just chosen...

“Dare.”

“I dare you to demonstrate what you do for a living. Not what your parents think you do. What you actually do.”

Marci’s voice lowered half an octave to husky. “Tell me what you want me to do next, tiger. I’m wearing what you wanted: a plaid skirt, white oxford, knee socks, and penny loafers. I’m bending over the table, with my bare ass in the air. Are you going to fuck me? Or spank me for using obscene language? Whatever your pleasure, you’re in charge here.”

She shrugged and when she spoke again, the Texas belle had returned. “Phone sex. Someone’s gotta do it, right?”

“Great mother of God,” Brad murmured into a strawberry blonde cloud of hair, as if they’d been coupling for years. But that was the way it went with musicians. They could afford to make a girl feel special for just one night because the one-night-stand was implicit in any backstage relating. They knew it. Their girls knew it, too, just as Marci knew it now.

Marci rubbed a leg against the bassist’s. “I dare you.” Her phone sex voice emerged again. “Repeat that move you made on me. Only this time, make it on Faith.”

“Christ,” Troy said. “Have you applied for a patent on that move yet?”

“If he hasn’t, he should.” Marci snickered.

“Are you in for a treat,” Troy whispered.

A hot, fluttering sensation shot from Faith’s heart to her nether regions. She bit her lip in anticipation, as Brad reached for her. She looked to Marci, who mouthed, You won’t be sorry.

Rule number four: You are a consenting adult, and you may knowingly and willing partake in this game. She swallowed hard and looked to Troy, whose dimple winked at her when he flashed his smile.

“Come here.” Brad rubbed her hand in encouragement and positioned her back to his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder and whispered, “A musician knows nothing better than he knows his own instrument. Yet at the same time, playing with a woman’s body is”—His hand slipped into the folds of her robe, and she tensed, seeking Troy’s reaction.—“in-fucking-comparable.”

Passion glowed in the drummer’s eyes. His tongue appeared for a leisurely taste of his bottom lip, and he gave her a quick nod. “Show me,” he whispered. He wanted to watch.

Her tension melted away.

Brad rolled her clit between his fingers, manipulating her as he would his bass guitar. “Fuck, I love ’em shaven.”

Troy closed his eyes for a moment longer than a blink, but quickly fixed his gaze on Faith’s. Brad plucked and rubbed. But with her heated stare tangling with Troy’s, it felt as if he were the one making music of her pleasured sighs, applying pressure to evoke a higher pitch, relenting for a breathier note. Troy’s hand crept to the apex of Marci’s legs, caressing her through the satin.

The moment Marci groaned in pleasure, Faith threw her head back against Brad’s shoulder and closed her eyes, overcome with the absolute bliss she’d fallen short of during her solo effort in the shower. For stability, she gripped the first thing within reach, which happened to be Troy’s bicep. Feeling the hard, defined muscle, tensing as his hand worked her best friend, only added fuel to the fire. Jeez, she was going to climax, right here, right now, with three witnesses.

“Oh, God. Oh, God.” She concentrated on nothing but what she felt. Strong arms, talented fingers, and with closed eyes, it didn’t matter that the two body parts belonged to two different men, or that the guy she wanted to fuck harder than hard had a hand on Marci’s clit. Her audience faded into the far recesses of her mind. She released her apprehension and gave in to pleasure. When her last groan of gratification escaped her, she tumbled to the bed—across the lap of a very happy man.


What happens next sparks flames akin to a forest fire. But I'm wondering...the hotter the better? Or do readers prefer conventional relations behind closed doors? Let me know your thoughts...

Cassandra's Newsletter Contest

Cassandra’s bi-monthly (low-volume) Newsletter keeps you up to date on my new releases, excerpts, upcoming author chats and contests.

In fact, just by subscribing to her newsletter, you’ll be entered in August’s drawing to win a unique, one-of-a-kind genuine Jade, Moonstone and Crystal Quartz “Goddess Within” necklace and a vial of Bewitching perfume oil. Simply dab the oil on skin and rub a little on the pendant for a bewitchingly sensual glamour. Winner will be picked at random on August 26, 2006.

email:
cassandra_curtis_author_newsletter-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
to join and win.

Potions and Spells

Thought you might enjoy a preview of my upcoming release, I Put A Spell On You. Look for it in August at: http://amberheat.com.

What would you do if someone cast a love spell on you? Sebastian Matthews finds the recipe for a love potion and casts a spell on his next door neighbor, Tess Warner. Unfortunately for him, the spell backfires. Or did it?

Excerpt from I Put A Spell On You
©2006, Cassandra Curtis

“I’m sorry, but you need a shirt and shoes to be serviced.”

“Is that a promise?” He pulled the shirt over his head, covered his pecs, and rippled abs.

The minute the sentence flew out her mouth, she realized someone could mistake her meaning. She flushed as the man twisted her comment into a double entendre and wondered if he’d hold her to her word. A shiver snaked down her spine at the wanton thought. His skin was taut, golden perfection, the muscles rock hard.

When the half-naked customer finished pulling on his t-shirt, she got a good look at his face and swore under her breath. Sebastian Matthews–figures. No one else had the chutzpah to use sexual banter like a weapon and trade blows with her.

“You filled out nice, Tess.”

“Wish I could say the same for you,” she lied. Damn, it wasn’t fair. The cute boy had grown into one hell of a gorgeous man. Sun-streaked brown hair fell in thick waves an inch or two shy of brushing the collar of his t-shirt. On the surface, his dark blue eyes twinkled, reflecting humor. A deeper look revealed mesmerizing secrets and barely restrained sexual hunger. Bedroom eyes.

“Sounds like a challenge, Ms. Warner. Want to play show and tell? I could show you how much I’ve grown.”

“And I could tell you to shove it where the sun don’t shine, pretty boy.”

“Hmm…have to think about that one, sweetheart. Didn’t know you were game for that sort of thing.”

Her sister tried to smother her snort of laughter. Warmth crept up her neck and cheeks. She’d love to wipe that smirk off his face. Maybe a little saltpeter…. She used to be better at this–taking him down a notch, putting him in his place. He seemed to enjoy embarrassing and shocking her…making her blush.

The Sex Life of Romance Characters

I was recently asked how I decide the number of sex scenes to put in a story. The first thing you should know is that most authors, regardless of what genre they write, are not exactly normal.

We've been known to talk to our characters and ask them questions. You may have spotted us at subway or train stations, or outside fast food restaurants–simply wandering around disheveled, muttering to ourselves, pen and pad or recorder in hand.

Most people find it surprising, but the thing is–the characters answer. Oh, yes. Being an erotic romance writer, the characters have a lot to say about sex.

The heroes tend to want it fast and often, while the heroines, although just as eager, would like a little conversation and emotional bonding with their intimacy, thank you very much.

Sometimes characters will show up in my dreams and offer suggestions. Or argue their point across the breakfast table.

"How come I only get one sex scene?"

"You have two," I reply...out loud.

"I have two what, honey?" My hubby asks as he passes by me in the kitchen.

"Not you. Him."

"What?" Waffle in one hand and coffee in the other, my guy looks at me with raised eyebrows.

"Mark." At his continued deadpan expression, I try again. "One of my heroes. He wants more sex."

"He's not the only one," hubby quips. "So–he's got two...what? Or do I even wanna know?"

"Very funny. He has two sex scenes."

"So what's the problem?" I can tell my guy is perplexed. Or constipated. After almost 20 years, I still can't discern the nuances when he scrunches his face like that.

"Well, he doesn't think dreaming about sex counts, so he says he only has sex the once."

"Poor guy. Maybe you can give him some imaginary Viagra."

"Ha–ha. Well, I guess I could write in another sex scene for him."

"Yes." I hear in the back of my subconscious.

Hero: 3, Author: zero.

Looks like I'm adding a scene.

"Or two?"

Don't push it.

Another new cover

Here's another cover for next month...(click on the thumbnail for the full-sized version)....

Come Into My Parlor by Adrianna Dane (Available August 2006)

Trace Edward Zaber
Owner/Editorial Director/Creative Director
Amber Quill Press, LLC
The Gold Standard In Publishing!
http://amberquill.com

Guacamole: Truth or Sex Aid?

Hello again, dear readers.

I'm hoping the subject line of this post doesn't scare you away. It must be said: I have a passion for avocados. I have several tasty guacamole recipes, but I like my guac smooth, without red peppers. Finely diced onions are good, and a bit of hot is OK, but guacamole on the whole is to balance out the spiciness of salsa. The bite of lemon in guacamole preserves the gorgeous color as well as giving a tang.

My topic today is only peripherally about guacamole. Primarily, it's about a broken story I'm trying to fix. It's a work-in-progress featuring a djinni who's been cursed to an eternity of enslavement to a wandering family. To the djinni's dismay, he's fallen in love with the last of the line, a mild-mannered accountant named Laura.

While I like this story, I know it is broken. It lacks something that will make it resonate with a reader. In the words of a top-notch beta reader of mine, the story is not quite cotton candy, but neither is it a good meal. It's a lot like mashed potatoes: bland. I wrote the story as a light, frothy piece, something erotic and sweet without a heavy load of angst.

But even frothy, fluffy stories need that germ of reality in order to ring true. The best humor always overlays some deeply familiar situation we can all relate to; it's what makes Bill Cosby's humor so universally popular, for example. Humor is tough to write well, for me at least. Much more difficult than an angsty story. How to connect my djinn and his sweetheart with my readers? Guacamole isn't the right answer, though it's part of what will fix the story. I need to add the right ingredients to that guac, though. A little pepper, a little onion, a little lemon, and a lot more mixing. And some time to let the guacamole stand, for those ingredients to develop into something rich and flavorful.

I like fluffy stories. I do. But even fluff must have something for a reader to chew on, or else it's simply empty paragraphs, quickly consumed and as quickly forgotten.

Still...I can't quite get away from the guacamole in the djinn's story. It's both truth and sex aid...truth, because we've all had the experience of putting things together and hoping they'll work, whether that be a simple recipe, or a complicated relationship. And sex aid, because...well, I'll just leave you with a little snippet from that work-in-progress, "Genie, No Bottle", and you can see for yourself. Meet Samir, my djinni hero, and Laura, the light of his life.

"Why don't you have a bottle, Samir?" Laura asked, when the scantily clothed female genie on the television smoked herself into her bottle and was corked. It had certainly taken her a long time to get around to asking that question. Her mother had asked it immediately, and most designees of the past had wondered why he had no lamp.

Laura turned around on the bed to look at him, dropping a fair-sized splat of guacamole on his belly. "Whoops." She bent and slurped it into her mouth. Samir's entire body went rigid at the touch of her lips on his skin. She was thorough, too--surely that was her tongue, sweeping every molecule of avocado away. He willed his manhood to remain quiescent and soft, but it had, as always, that one-track mind of its own.

"It's...uh, not that sort of binding." He could hardly speak coherently with her mouth on his skin and her hair brushing his belly and groin. And there was still that smear of guacamole on her cheek. His hand lifted, his index finger reached out, and--she raised her head and looked at him, licking her lips.

It was fated, surely. He sat up slowly, as did she, and when his mouth touched her cheek to rid her at last of the guacamole, her eyes closed. Samir felt her turning her head so that her mouth brushed over his lips. Brushed past. Halted. And returned, so slowly and lightly that he might have imagined it, except for the heat that swarmed over his skin, and her breath against his mouth. Every bodily impulse was to grab her, press her into the bed, thrust his tongue into her mouth, strip those silky blue panties from her hips and satisfy the vastness of his hunger now now now. But in his head rang all those taunts about the feckless, unskilled boys of her youth. He could not afford to become one of them.

Samir slammed the lid on the inferno of his desire, and concentrated on giving Laura the best kiss of her life, drunk or not, rebound or not...here was his chance, and he was taking it.


And once again I have a question: what's your favorite fluffy romance? What keeps you going back to it, why is it you remember that particular story? What's the truth in your guacamole? Inquiring minds want to know.

*grin*


Nina

Crossposted to Nina's LiveJournal Account
Amber Heat Authors blog
Nina's blog

Winners of my July 20th blog drawing!

Congrats to Deborah Chan and Lisa Williams! You are the two winners in my blog drawing! Send me an email at ml@mlrhodeswriting.com and let me know which of my stories you'd like to receive and which ebook format you prefer. :) You can check out my website at www.mlrhodeswriting.com to see a list of my stories and read blurbs and excerpts.

Thanks to everyone who posted comments and sent me emails!! You're all the best!

ML

More new covers

Here are two more covers for next month...(click on the thumbnails for the full-sized versions)....

  

Lie To Me by Selah March (Available August 2006)
To Protect And...Seduce? by Deirdre O'Dare (Available August 2006)

Trace Edward Zaber
Owner/Editorial Director/Creative Director
Amber Quill Press, LLC
The Gold Standard In Publishing!
http://amberquill.com

Winner of my July 11 blog

Okay, I'm SO bad. I totally forget to post the winner of my July 11 blog post here on the blog! I did pick a winner (it was someone who had emailed me her comments) and she's already received her free book. But I totally spaced posting it here. I apologize! Thank heavens a couple of savvy readers emailed me tonight and asked! Thanks Lisa and Jenny!!! :)

So...drum roll.... The winner of my July 11 drawing was...Margaret!! Congrats Margaret! She won a free AQP book (she took a copy of Take It On Faith). :)

I promise I will post the winner of my newest contest right here on the blog! Cross my heart!

ML

Hunkalicious Inspiration

Have you ever noticed as you’re browsing romance authors’ websites, specifically erotic romance authors’ websites, how many of them have a page dedicated to gorgeous, hunky, half-nude men?

As it happens, I don’t have a page of hunks on my site. But I admit, I’m considering adding one. I mean, erotic romance is all about pleasure, right? And if you’re reading it, then why not get a visual along with it? I’ve been extremely lucky to have some truly mouthwatering covers on my erotic stories, so I always feel blessed—and more than a little excited—when I see an email from the Amber Heat art director, Trace Zaber, with the words “Your cover for ____” in the title. Because I know chances are very high I’m about to get a little (okay, or maybe a big) thrill. It’s hard to pick faves because I love them all, but to date, the ones I most enjoy looking at are the covers from The Bodyguard, Night Shadows, Take It On Faith, and my upcoming September release, The Professor’s Secret Passion. The epitome of hot hunks, all of them.



So the cover does, in my humble opinion, definitely add to the pleasure quotient for readers. At least it does for me as a reader.

But back to those pages on author sites devoted to the half-nude men. Okay, drool-worthy cover art is a must. So what’s with these other guys?

Here’s the way I see it. Most writers, as we write, get a picture in our head of our characters. We describe them on the page for readers, give them heights, hair and eye color, sensuous muscles, and big co...er...manly appendages. :) But many of us also tend to visualize our characters, the heroes in particular, as specific people--maybe famous actors or cover models we’ve seen. Or, if there’s no perfect actor or celebrity, we might go out on the net and do some browsing around until we find a picture and go, “OMG, that’s my hero!!” Then we save the pic and put it in a file somewhere so as we write we can ogle the beautiful creature.

I’m guilty of this. I admit it. I don’t do it for every story, but many of them. For example, as I was writing Masks, my Phantom of the Opera book, I had Gerard Butler in mind the entire time as my hero. What was *really* weird is that I wrote the story before I ever even knew they were making a phantom movie and Gerard Butler was starring in it. How’s that for a woo-woo moment? Okay, so that’s my example of celebrity inspiration. But for my September release, The Professor’s Secret Passion, I actually came across pics on the internet that gave me OMG! moments. I have two heroes in this story (double the pleasure!), Aidan (dark hair) and Nate (blond hair). Here are the pics I looked at as I was writing:

So tell me, authors, who are your fave hunky hero inspirations as you write? And readers, do you ever visualize specific people as you read a story. Or do you picture the hunky hero on the cover art (if there is a hunk on the cover) as you read? And...be honest here, folks...how many of you have pics of hot hunks on your website? On your blog? Hanging on the corkboard in your office or cubicle?

Leave a comment or send me an email at ml@mlrhodeswriting.com, and at the end of the week I’ll draw two random winners and I’ll send them a download of their choice from my currently available books!

By the way...the last pic here? Purely eye candy. Enjoy!

M.L. Rhodes
Hot Night. Hot Heroes. Hot Reads.
www.mlrhodeswriting.com

What do you want?

Hey there guys! I'm SO glad to be back on the blog today with AQP. =) So I'm working hard, writing away (that's what we'll tell my editors okay? LOL), and as a writer, I always try to write the sort of story I like. What type of story appeals to me? What turns me on? I always aim for that.

Now my question, lovely readers, (and that means you other authors too because we're all readers, right?) what do YOU WANT in a story? Talk to me. Do you want wolfies? Vamps? M/F, M/M, M/M/F? Comedy? Dark? What do you enjoy reading these days?

Oh, giving away stuff? Yes, I am. Three folks I will select from the posts for their choice of one of my stories. Thank you!!!

HUGS all around,

Isy

Two new covers

Here are two covers for next month...(click on the thumbnails for the full-sized versions)....

  

Lure by Carolina Valdez (Available August 2006)
Wild And Wanton by Brit Blaise (Available August 2006)

Trace Edward Zaber
Owner/Editorial Director/Creative Director
Amber Quill Press, LLC
The Gold Standard In Publishing!
http://amberquill.com

Enough about "Touch"....now for the sense of "Smell".....

Here's a cover for an upcoming erotica release...(click on the thumbnail for the full-sized version)....

Scent (Primal Magic 2) by Adrianna Dane (Available August 2006)
Sequel to the best-selling If You Dare...

Trace Edward Zaber
Owner/Editorial Director/Creative Director
Amber Quill Press, LLC
The Gold Standard In Publishing!
http://amberquill.com

Touch

In many instances we communicate our care and concern for another individual through the sense of touch. A touch can say more than a speech filled with words. A hug, a kiss, the clasp of a warm hand, can send tinglings of warm energy throughout our body. It is that desire for closeness so we may accept and transmit the loving, healing energy of another being so vital to us all. It can convey empathy, reassurance, adoration, and it isn't strictly about sexual need between lovers.

But what if the touch of a lover, close friend, family member only brought pain? What if you could no longer bear the simple touch of a hand in comfort? What if you had been so conditioned to pain that any thought of intimate, physical contact was abhorrent to you? And what if, upon being reunited with your brother, a person you had loved and looked up to, now resembles so much your tormentors you cannot even bear to be in the same room as him?

Kierra's Thread, my latest release from Amber Heat is the story of Kierra's fight to reclaim her life after being sold into slavery to a masochistic master.

Out of the depths of that horror, a single thread of love to another was forged, binding her more powerfully than anything she could have imagined, holding her to sanity, not allowing her to succumb to those who would destroy her.

Jarek Bakari is a Mindwanderer who has bound Kierra to him with the thread of his soul. A high price is exacted from him in order to keep her alive. He can touch her only through her mind, but any attempt at physical closeness causes her physical pain. He yearns to find a way to help her heal, but he has his own scars to contend with as well.

The sensation of touch takes place on so many levels. It is within the mind, the feel of flesh against flesh, soul recognizing soul. Touch can cause so many different sensations. And it can heal as well as destroy.

What if you couldn't touch the people you loved most? How would you show you cared? How would you trasmit your healing energy to them? Read an excerpt of Kierra's Thread to learn more about Kierra and Jarek's story.

Such simple things that we often taken for granted as being a part of us, be it sight, sound, taste, smell...or touch.

Adrianna

A Fly On the Wall

The mystery of the forbidden often titillates our curiosity. Sometimes indulging our secret desires, even through reading, requires overcoming fearfulness. Secretly observing private behavior while remaining anonymous can be a major turn-on, of course. Part of erotica’s appeal, it seems, rises from contacting our inner voyeur while nestled in our comfort zones.

When I lived in the city, I loved catching a glimpse of somebody unaware who had left the blinds or curtains of their dwelling open. I remember one evening in particular, while I was busy making dinner in my kitchen. I happened to glance out the window into a lighted apartment in the building across the way. There, I caught sight of a guy who sat typing at his desk. When he stopped and rose, I quit ripping the lettuce to my salad apart: the man was stark naked! I couldn’t help but watch him head for the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge. I giggled as he leaned casually against the fridge door and chugged from the bottle. He then carried his libation back and resumed typing at his desk, unaware that I was ogling him across the way. I admit, I continued watching him to see what would happen next. He sat typing at his desk long after I finished my dinner and put the dishes away. A disappointing end, I know, which left me to my fantasies...
An independent film producer I knew told me he used to watch a girl with regularity, in an apartment building down behind his own. Almost every day, he’d watch her lay down naked on her bed and masturbate, unabashed, her windows and blinds wide open. Makes you wonder if she was as tantalized by being secretly observed as he was in observing her…

As an erotica author, I enjoy bringing the reader into pleasurable new realms, whether the turf is taboo or foreign. Following new characters into new situations, there’s bound to be some appealing discovery made. Observing intimate pleasure as a fly on the wall is enticing and delicious. And, unlike my naked typist across the way, you’re guaranteed something exciting will happen!

Please note that the following three excerpts are explicit in content and use graphic language—definitely x-rated!

Enjoy—and please let me know what you think.
---Shara Bloodstone
…steamy tales of urban life.

* * *
Excerpt #1, Urban Ambrosia, available at Amber Heat, www.amberquillpress.com

Here’s what Jen H. of Fallen Angels Reviews had to say about Urban Ambrosia:
“While all erotic romances are obviously explicit, I found some of Ms. Bloodstone’s descriptiveness memorably blazing…from the beginning, Urban Ambrosia adeptly blended its romance and spice, which went a long way in making this story almost as intoxicating as its title implies. ”

* * *
Before Marla could make a retort he leaned over and planted a soft, warm kiss on her lips. She nuzzled into it, kissing him back lovingly. She had dreamed of this kiss for over four months, ever since the first time he’d taken a seat at her bar. He had definitely not made himself available, at first. They spent time getting to know each other when she realized his shields weren’t coming down easily. She certainly hoped he wasn’t hung up on somebody from his past but decided even if he was, he’d be well worth the wait.
She broke gently from his kiss. “Mmm. That is so nice. Your lips feel so good.”
“So do yours. Wait a minute—”
“What?”
“Let’s do it again.”
Before Marla could mention they were in a public place, Anthony’s lips were back on hers. She sensed he was really feeling her, not just placing a kiss to arouse, but fully meeting her lips with his own, expressing himself by letting her know he cared.
But the kisses were definitely arousing her passion. She felt her lips part and Anthony’s tongue enter her mouth, pressing deeper and deeper inside. Her tongue reacted, too, searching for the inside of his mouth as she yearned to express her feelings for him. As their making out got more and more intense, Marla felt her pussy heat up and throb, and she ached for Anthony’s cock to fill her up. She instinctively pressed her breasts against his chest and shoved her hand down between his legs. She felt his blue jeans and fiercely rubbed his inner thigh against the palm of her hand. She wanted to grab his crotch but somehow remembered that even though it was dark, they were still in a public place. Her eyes fluttered open as she suddenly felt Anthony’s grip on her arms, holding her away from him.
* * *

Excerpt #2, My Komic Valentine, release date to be announced, Amber Heat.

What it's about:
Serious grad student by day, Penny Ann Foster giggles her way through her nightly cocktail shifts at NYC’s hottest comedy club. Potential lovers abound both at school and work, offering the liberated beauty a slew of provocative escapades with hot and sexy men!

* * *
Before she’d finished speaking, he was up on his feet. She felt him flip her over to her tummy and yank her back on all fours. He surprised her by maneuvering her around to face the mirror. He stood back and spanked her bottom. He continued with light spanks against her pussy, from behind. She felt a sting that made her want to cry out, yet beg him to enter her. When she glanced up toward the mirror, she saw the bed was the perfect height for him to mount her from behind and stand while fucking her. She felt him press the head of his cock against her wet pussy for rear entry. Her juices flowed with so much desire that he slid in easily. He grasped her hips with either hand and pressed deep inside her passageway. With his feet on solid ground, he fucked her doggy style, sending forceful thrusts in and out of her slippery slit.
Both participant and observer, Penny watched in the mirror. She saw herself up on all fours, her breasts swaying back and forth as Bobby plunged himself repeatedly into her from behind. She felt him sweat while he sated himself; he seemed unable to get deep enough inside her, but took great pleasure in trying. They both abandoned themselves to their animal nature as she tilted up her ass to offer him greater access. His movements grew more rapid, more frenzied, as his cock surged in and out of her pliant, succulent hole. She reveled in feeling his shaft heat up and expand inside her, the friction increasing the more he fucked her.
“You all right, baby?” he asked, breathless. “Am I hurting you at all?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” she managed to gasp.
And she was fine; she welcomed the swell of his manhood as he drove himself deeper inside her. The hot lust consuming her was equaled by no other sensation she could imagine.
* * *
Excerpt #3: Private Audition, available in September, Amber Pax collection

What it's about:
Aspiring actress Janessa Jergen never thought she’d use sex as a bargaining tool—until a famous Hollywood couple seduces her into sharing their kinky pleasures.

* * *
Janessa had noticed Arthur sliding over to her, but she was so consumed with Tasha’s ministering that she thought nothing of it. Now, however, she felt his hand move from her hair to her right cheek. He was, she realized, steadying her face, inserting the head of his cock into her mouth.
Oh, geeze, she thought, he wants in on all this. I guess I have no choice…
She felt him press his cock into her mouth, easing it in and out. With gentle prodding, he was insisting she blow him while Tasha sucked and finger-fucked her pussy. She complied, opening her mouth wider for him to fit more of his well-endowed penis inside.
“That’s nice, honey, oh, that’s so nice,” he was mumbling.
She was also aware that he was watching Tasha go back down on her.
She felt Tasha taking her to a climax, now. Tasha maintained pressure by moving two fingers in and out of her slippery hole, pressing faster and harder. She’d alternated her fingers with licking her inner lips and pressing her tongue tip against the most sensitive point of her clit.
Of course, Janessa thought, another woman would know exactly when and how to time this. Oh, this is incredible…
Meanwhile, Arthur was matching the increased rhythm of Tasha’s hand movements with the thrusting of his cock. He had one hand balanced on the wall next to him, the other holding Janessa’s face toward his groin while he steadily fucked her mouth.
He isn’t rough at all, Janessa marveled. Rather masterful, actually…I wonder how many times they’ve done this together, in the past…

* * *

A new gay erotica cover

Here's a cover for an upcoming gay erotica release...(click on the thumbnail for the full-sized version)....

The Professor's Secret Passion by M. L. Rhodes (Available Soon)

Trace Edward Zaber
Owner/Editorial Director/Creative Director
Amber Quill Press, LLC
The Gold Standard In Publishing!
http://amberquill.com

Why are m/m stories so delicious?

In the world of heterosexual erotic romance, the hero, who in many cases is a strong alpha male type, finds lust and love with an equally strong heroine, while the reader keeps a glass of ice water on hand (or perhaps a willing partner) to cool down her own fire, which the author hopes has been ignited due to petting, foreplay, and sex between the hero and heroine.

Sound familiar?

I read tons of erotica--and I'm not using that word lightly, I mean tons. Not only do I write it, I truly enjoy reading it. I'd venture to say I gobble up an average of four or five erotica shorts/novellas/novels every week. Sometimes more. And I read widely, across all the sub-genres. The scenario I described above is the norm for probably 80% of the erotic romance on the market. (That's a guesstimate on my part, which I'm freely admitting, so don't yell at me if you know specific facts and figures.) Now, the heat and sensuality level varies widely. On one end of the spectrum we have erotica that's very similar to steamy "regular" romance. On the other end, we have erotica that pushes the envelope and contains extremely explicit language and situations that would probably make dear old Mom pass out in a dead faint. And then there's every heat level in between. But I think it's good that the sensuality levels cover a wide range of material. They should. Not every reader is the same, and it's important to have diverse material that appeals to a diverse audience.

So what's up with the other guesstimated 20% of the erotica? What I see making up that other 20% are stories that most publishers label as menage and same sex. It's this 20% that I've been thinking about lately.

My Amber Heat colleague, Adrianna Dane, posed a question on the Amber Heat Readers list last week, asking if readers like menage and m/m stories. The response was an overwhelming YES!! It seems these two sub-genres of erotica (menage and same sex) are building a huge following and are the newest "hot" trend for readers. These sub-genres have been around forever, and have always had devotees, but in the past year or so, they seem to have taken off like crazy, no longer appealing just to the niche readers, but to average erotic romance readers as well. The average erotic romance readers, mind you, are heterosexual women.

Okay, so hetero women like to read about strong, hunky men having fabulous sweaty sex with the woman they're going to fall in love with. This makes complete sense since finding the perfect sexual and life partner is many hetero women's fantasy. And...it then follows that hetero women might also be turned on by reading about a m/f/m menage. I mean, two hunks to pleasure her? Yeah, baby! Again, another fabulous fantasy. Women like to imagine themselves in these positions--either with the studly one man or with several studly men.

So then, what about m/m stories and m/m/f menages? And yes, there is a difference between m/f/m and m/m/f groups. In m/f/m menage, two men do the bumpy with the woman, but don't necessarily engage in intimate touching with each other. It's hetero sex all the way. In m/m/f, not only do the two men have an intimate relationship with the woman, but they also are intimate with one another. (The same follows for f/m/f and f/f/m menages, but since that's not quite as common in the erotic romance market, I'm not addressing them in this post). Okay, for a woman reader, it's easy to project herself into the menage story and become the heroine. But for the m/m action, the female reader becomes the observer rather than the participant. When two men are engaging in intimate play with one another, all the woman can do is look on. She's not involved.

So my question is...what's the appeal? Reading about m/m intimacy is a passive act for the female reader. She can "watch" the action, but can't insert herself into the play like she can in a m/f story or a menage. Why then is reading (or watching) m/m so arousing? Why did women across the US (the world?) flock to see Brokeback Mountain? Yeah, Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal are hotties, no doubt, but why did they seem even hotter when they were portraying gay lovers? Why did the love scenes, which certainly weren't explicit, make women squirm in their panties?

A male writer friend of my mine mentioned recently, in relation to this erotica trend where hetero women are enjoying reading about two men getting in on, that with all the buzz about how "hot" these m/m couplings are, women darn well better not give men any more shit about liking to watch women. And it's the truth. One of the most common hetero male fantasies has always been watching women get it on together. There's no big secret about it, it's a fact. And if you ask a man why they like the idea of watching women touch each other, you'll usually get a simple response such as, "It's hot!" Yes, but why's it hot? "It just is!"

So have women always been secretly turned on at the thought of seeing or reading about men touching each other? Or is this is a fairly new thing? In either case, clearly today's modern woman is realizing what men have known for years: watching members of the opposite sex pleasure each other is a turn-on.

Is there a specific reason? Is this new trend perhaps based on the fact that with m/f erotic stories becoming more mainstream and more easily accessible--with a few clicks of the mouse online, a reader can buy enough erotica to keep her busy for a year--women are starting to get a little bored with the usual pairings and situations and they're looking outward, searching for something different to titillate them? Something...more? This could also explain why certain other trends have been hot in the past--vampires, for example, a sub-genre that added a dark and dangerous twist to the erotic stories.

Or is it as simple as what men have been saying for years? "It's just hot."

I'd love to hear your thoughts, so post a comment here or drop me an email if you'd rather at ml@mlrhodeswriting.com

Because I value your comments and opinions, in a couple of days I'll do a random drawing of everyone who's posted a comment here on the blog or who's emailed me and I'll give away an Amber Quill ebook--winner's choice of any of the currently available stories.

Looking forward to hearing from you!

ML

M.L. Rhodes
Hot Night. Hot Heroes. Hot Reads.
www.mlrhodeswriting.com

Three new covers

Here are three covers for next month...(click on the thumbnails for the full-sized versions)....

Accidentally Yours by Isabella Jordan (Available August 2006)
Bad Boy Blues by Christiane France (Available August 2006)
I Put A Spell On You by Cassandra Curtis (Available August 2006)

Trace Edward Zaber
Owner/Editorial Director/Creative Director
Amber Quill Press, LLC
The Gold Standard In Publishing!
http://amberquill.com

The Unconventional Hero

As a writer of erotica and steamy romance, I’m used to bold, take charge Alpha heroes. Let’s face it, we, and likely many of our readers, drool over the guy with the broad shoulders, the big hands and the deep, resonant voice who’s as much at home stepping out of a limousine in a tailored tuxedo as he is jumping out of a helicopter in full battle gear and camo paint.

Is there still room in the romance genre for the unconventional hero? I ask because I was taken aback last night while watching Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest in which Johnny Depp swaggers, staggers and literally prances his way through two hours of high seas adventure and comes out at – at least in my humble opinion – the new romantic hero to Keira Knightley’s Elizabeth.

There may be spoilers ahead:


Kohl-eyed, dread-locked Captain Jack was, for me, the farthest thing from a romantic hero. Sure Johnny Depp is...well, Johnny Depp. Who could argue? But Jack Sparrow proves once again to be a bit of comic relief. He minces, and flails. He sways and postures. Yet he manages to work his way between Elizabeth and her dashing fiancé, Orlando Bloom’s Will Turner.






What makes Jack Sparrow hero material? Is it that he’ll do whatever he must to obtain his goal? Is it those moments of uncharacteristic clarity when he seems to know exactly what to do? Or is it just the deeply hidden secret that underneath his swashbuckling, he is undeniably, as Elizabeth tells him, a good man?

I haven’t figured it out, yet. It might take another movie for me to be sure. In the mean time I think I’ll do some more exploring of the unconventional heroes and try to figure out just what their appeal could be.

Underdogs and Heroines

Sadly, unlike previous participants from this week, I do not have a recent adventure among Chippendales' dancers to amuse you with (although I wish I did......hubba hubba indeed, Sherrill!) No, I've spent the majority of my weekend doing manuscript revisions, publicity work, and watching a passion of mine: Wimbledon. (Spoiler alert for anyone who TIVO'd it.)

And I'm really happy that Federer has another gold plate for his mantle. The boy is adorable. He's not really one of those athletes I take one look at and just wanna jump...really, he's more like your adorable little brother. You just want to muss his curls and pinch his cheek then pour him a glass of cherry Kool-Aid. (I have two such younger brothers, and I am convinced that one's "shaved head" period was because he got tired of everyone wanting to pinch his dimpled cheek and play with his curls.)

I was, however, much more upset about the results of yesterday's final when Justine Henin-Hardenne fell to Amelie Mauresmo. It's not that I "don't like" Amelie or anything. They're both good players, but I definitely adore Justine who has had a very hard life (lost her mom as a teenager) and isn't even 5'6" (a real rarity in this day and age; the only shorter/smaller player I'm aware of is Hingis).

Look at this picture of them ...Amelie (left) looks like she could throw Justine (center) over her shoulder and walk away, whistling "High Ho" and without even breaking a sweat. (Not that I mean any offense by that...the woman can serve at 120 miles per hour...my speedometer doesn't even go up that high!) I mean, Amelie looks like a professional athlete while Justine looks like the cheerleader who'd be organizing Amelie's pep rally. (Not that she is any kind of slouch...can you believe her serve is 116mph?!?!)

I think that like a lot of folks, I just have a weakness for underdogs, and that's why I choose the heroines I do most of the time. In The Gypsy Chick, the heroine Lyndi has just been dumped by her boyfriend three days before Valentine's day, and to add salt to the wound, she has to work Valentine's night, surrounded by canoodling couples. In The Glamorous Life, my heroine is Porsche, a stripper who seems very intelligent and in control until she finds herself in a dangerous situation when a customer takes the idea of a private dance too far; still, having a woman who is intelligent and savvy kinda of makes her an underdog in comparison to what society expects of her. In Picture Perfect, Kristine has given up on Cupid after her heart is broken...when the same man returns to try to repair the damage, she's not sure she can take it.

And then there's my absolute favorite of my underdog heroines. In She Who Laughs Last (and its sequel Margarita Chica), the heroine is Leslie Stetler, a saleswoman who has a very cruel trick played on her that threatens her success. In the end, there is no hero to rescue her. She either has to find the strength inside and save herself, or she has to accept defeat.

I'd like to think that this approach to storytelling, even though it's not always the "tradtional" fiction route, is still able to entertain and inspire you (one thing I can guarantee is that you will laugh A LOT along the way). So give me a shout-out. Are you a fan of the underdog?

I don't think I've ever put an excerpt here, so I'll do that today just for a change of pace. This is from The Gypsy Chick where when Lyndi loses Scott, she sells her soul to the Devil for a guy who's perfect........perfectly awful:

I peeked around the corner and spied on my favorite intruder. Scott leaned all the way forward on the couch cushion. He had the same obstinately thick and wavy dark curls the actor who played Mark Darcy in Bridget Jones did. Even though I preferred Daniel Cleaver, I didn’t hold that against Scott. My fingers ran through it just fine.

A bottle of beer sat on the coaster in front of him, and his blue eyes twitched as he followed the basketball game on the screen. His right hand moved up and down as if he were the one bouncing the ball, then he raised both hands in front of him and took the imaginary shot.

“Give him three!” boomed the announcer, and Scott pumped his fist in the air.

I pulled back around the corner and smiled. Once I recovered from the wave of warm tinglies from spying on my guy in his natural habitat, I moved into the room.

“Hey,” Scott said as soon as I walked in. “I thought you were going to call me.” He got up and came toward me, then he bent down and laid a lip-lock on me that erased at least half the damage from another Saturday night slinging drinks at the bar.

I shrugged. “I’m sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Get naked, get wet, and let me have my way with you.” He made a low growl, then nibbled the side of my neck.

I giggled and squirmed, and after a few more moments of the delicious torture, he backed away.

“You shower, and I’ll cook you an—”

“Omelet?”

“Hey, that’s what you get when you date a firefighter. You cook fast, you eat fast, and you get to what’s important.”

“Like this?” I asked as I backed a few steps away and pulled my black Sweet Alice T-shirt over my head.

“Exactly,” he said. His eyes widened when I tapped the front clasp of the black satin bra.

I lowered my hand. “Feed me, and there’ll be more where that came from.”

He scurried into the kitchen, and I stepped into the bathroom.

Naughty AmberPax Cover

Here's the cover for an upcoming AmberPax Collection centered around ménage (M/F/M) relationships....(click on the thumbnail for the full-sized version)....

Torn by Various Authors (Available September 2006)

Trace Edward Zaber
Owner/Editorial Director/Creative Director
Amber Quill Press, LLC
The Gold Standard In Publishing!
http://amberquill.com

Another new cover

Here's a cover for an upcoming paranormal/fantasy erotica release...(click on the thumbnail for the full-sized version)....

A Little D.A.B. by Caitlyn Willows (Available August 2006)

Trace Edward Zaber
Owner/Editorial Director/Creative Director
Amber Quill Press, LLC
The Gold Standard In Publishing!
http://amberquill.com

Chippendales

If you've been following my personal blog, you'll know I just went to my first Chippendales show.


I have one thing to say.


Hubba-hubba-hubba!


This was one group of fiiiiiiine-looking men. Well, they're The Chippendales, so of course they were! LOL

They opened the show with the guys wearing their signature leather pants, long black dusters, and bow ties and cuffs. It wasn't long before the dusters came off. And we got a peak at what was underneath those pants.

But wait... there's more!
This guy did a whole businessman-coming-home-from-work routine (yeah, image the suit coming off this guy bit by bit) that ended with a mock jerk-off on top of a big box that was supposed to be a computer screen. Full monty from a side view (minus the monty). *G* Phew!

And they did another act to the song "You Can Leave Your Hat On" and gave us the full monty from the rear view. Some fine, fine behinds were up on that stage, I can tell you.

Oh, my virgin eyes. (Did I mention this was my first Chippendales show? It was my first male stripper show, period.)

There was a guy who wore glasses through much of the show. Big, buff body, but his face reminded me so much of an ex-boyfriend of my niece's that I couldn't get into him too much. But... if I stare at him enough, maybe...


The part that surprised me the most, although I guess it shouldn't have, was when the guys came down into the audience and did personal little dances so women could stuff money in their pants. I suppose the reason it surprised me was there were nine--count 'em--nine security guards lined up at the bottom of the stage. I thought they were there to keep the women from mobbing the stage. Maybe they were. But why mob the stage when the boys were coming to us?

And I can hear you wondering... Did Sherrill stuff any money down any of the Chippie's pants?













Well. With hot hunks like these, do you really have to ask?

Sherrill Quinn
Follow your passion to the edge... and beyond
Website | Blog | MySpace | Indulge Authors | Readers Group

New cover

Here's a cover for an upcoming contemporary erotica release...(click on the thumbnail for the full-sized version)....

Sound Off by Penny Dawn (Available August 2006)

Trace Edward Zaber
Owner/Editorial Director/Creative Director
Amber Quill Press, LLC
The Gold Standard In Publishing!
http://amberquill.com

A gift from me to you

Isn't that cover below yummy? Rowr! Makes me wish I'd come up with a story for the anthology! Before I head out to a party with the family, here's a gift from me to you. An excerpt from my June release, Family Jewels:

His fingers trailed up and down my exposed spine. “Humor has little to do with the way I’m currently thinking of you.”

I moistened my lips with the tip of my tongue. “That relieves my mind. Shall we get to it?”

He nodded and then spun me around in a florid finish to the dance.

The music faded away and we left the floor, his hand settling on the bare skin of my lower back.

We mingled with the crowd. I flirted with the men and he fended off their wives. He took care to avoid Colleen, but at the first opportunity, introduced me to her middle-aged husband. The portly fellow offered Sasha a smoke out on the balcony. “Away from all of this nonsense, eh?”

“No, thank you, Harold. I’d prefer to remain with Amalia tonight.”

The man’s stare remained on my chest. I steeled myself against a shudder of revulsion. “I completely understand. Be sure to call my office later this week regarding that transaction.”

“I will, Harold.”

When we’d secreted ourselves in the far corner, he turned to me, blocking the room from view. “What did you think of him?”

I leaned back, looping my arms around his neck. “A man not to be trifled with, but well aware that his young wife is not in the least faithful to him. If anything, I would bet that he encourages her straying to sink his talons deeper into his business associates.”

He bent down, his teeth scraping the tendon in my neck. “An accurate assessment. Harold is not to be crossed. However, neither am I.”

New AmberPax cover

Here's the cover for an upcoming AmberPax Collection....(click on the thumbnail for the full-sized version)....

Potions, Elixirs, and Brews...Oh My! by Various Authors (Available August 2006)

Trace Edward Zaber
Owner/Editorial Director/Creative Director
Amber Quill Press, LLC
The Gold Standard In Publishing!
http://amberquill.com

Pampering yourself

Today is all about me. No, I'm not being narcissistic. Well, not much at any rate. Today's my birthday. I'm a huge believer in the self-gifting philosophy in life. My present to myself this year will be trips to see friends and network with other writers. I love travelling and it's been a while since I've done either trip. So, what is the self-gifting philosophy in life? Basically, you don't wait to be treated to the things that you want. It can be as simple as sitting in your backyard, pulling a book from your TBR pile, and enjoying the nice weather. It doesn't have to be an expensive treat, unless you want it to be ;) Also, you DO NOT need a special reason to self-gift. If it makes you feel good, and it's something that you can afford to do, why wait?

Tell me, how would you practice the self-gifting philosophy?

A Note of Explanation!

As usual I am the backwards kid :-). I posted in the wrong order, forgetting that they will appear from the newest back. So, to make sense of it all, scroll down to "Thoughts on Independence Day." Read that first and and then read excerpt one and finally excerpt two, okay?

Hey, it is 5:45 in the morning--lightening and wind woke me at 4:30 and I finally gave in and got up. I'm on my first cup of coffee and the brain is still pretty fuzzy. But I did get to watch a gorgeous sunrise. The clouds are now gray again but it was fantastic for a few minutes, every shade from molten gold to fiery red, painting the eastern sky on which my office window looks out. In summer, leaves on my shade trees and the mesquites obscure the distant mountains beyond Tombstone but that's okay. I just watched a jack rabbit nibble some grass around the rusty old flag pole--wish I had a good one!--and the business of birds, waking and seeking food. It's a lovely Arizona morning I am sharing with you!

Gwynn

Second excerpt, The Man in Black

Later the same evening. Melissa had gone to the Gulch with Jo but Jo is going to spend the night with Charlie, her new male friend. Lawton offers to drive Melissa home. En route they have a disagreement. He feels he is too old and wrong for her and tries to convince her of this during the drive. She is upset and hurt, feeling he is rejecting her.


They made the rest of the trip in total stony silence. When they reached the apartments, she sprang out of the truck before he came to a complete stop. She hit the ground running and fled desperately for the door. But when she got there, she couldn't find her key.
Melissa dug frantically in her purse, hearing the somber tattoo of Lawton's boot heels coming closer. Without looking, she knew the instant he stepped up on the stoop beside her. Although he didn't speak, she felt his presence.
"Go away," she said. "Just go away and leave me alone."
"As soon as you're safe inside," he replied. "What's wrong--lose your key?"
How could he sound so casual, almost conversational? He's just torn me to pieces, but he doesn't feel a thing!
"No...it's in here somewhere." She fought the tears that trembled at the edge of spilling, weeping with rage, pain and humiliation. Her hands shook, stirring the contents of her purse into a disorderly goulash.
"Here." His voice suddenly softer, almost gentle, Lawton drew a penlight out of his shirt pocket and shone it down into the purse, which he steadied with his other hand. Her key ring, with a horseshoe souvenir from Graveyard Gulch, appeared right on top. He lifted it out with only a slight flourish. In a moment, the door swung open. He reached inside to flip a light switch.
"You girls ought to leave a light on. Makes it easier to find your way in, a little nicer to come home to."
Although Lawton obviously waited for her to go in, Melissa stood, wooden and numb, misery gradually overcoming her anger. He was going to turn around and walk away, out of her life with a finality almost as complete as death. How could she bear it? Dreams without even a shred of hope would be useless, completely empty.
"Don't just stand there." A tone close to pleading charged his voice. "Go on in."
She looked up at him. His black-clad form blended into the night, leaving his face etched in the light spilling through the open door, a primitive carving in ancient ivory. She tried to memorize his face, absorb its likeness and make it an indelible part of herself.
Melissa had never before encountered a man like him and she suspected she never would again. But he didn't want her. His rejection had to be her fault, some failing or lack on her part that made her undesirable. Little wonder he scorned her. Hadn't she constantly appeared naïve, juvenile, and gauche? But even rejection did not destroy her longing. She could even still believe he needed her.
"Don't look at me like that." His words emerged in a hoarse whisper. His hands came out of the dark and grasped her shoulders. He spun her around and pushed her, stumbling, through the door. Following her in, he kicked it shut behind him.
Melissa stopped and stood swaying, dizzy with the abruptness of his actions. He turned her again, this time to bring her to him, in motions as swift and smooth as the way he drew his gun.
His arms encircled her like two bands of steel, crushing her, fusing her to his hard, lean length. Buckle, buttons, even bones seemed to imprint into her flesh. She could not move, could scarcely breathe.
He reached up and tangled his fingers into her hair to drag her head back and then his lips smashed down over hers. The world tilted and whirled, spinning out of control. With her lips sealed to his and her nose almost flattened against his rough cheek, her lungs began to ache for air. But even that need seemed insignificant when every sense focused on the man, the feel and scent and taste of him.
Lawton met none of the resistance he expected. Almost at once, Melissa's body became pliable and yielding, melting against his. Her lips also yielded, going soft and parting beneath the pressure of his kiss, denying him nothing. When a distant voice of sanity reminded him he had to be hurting her, he responded ruthlessly; that was the intent.
Long moments later, by sheer force of will, he loosened his clasp and dragged his mouth free of hers. She made a small sound of protest. She lifted her arms, no longer pinned to her sides by his embrace and reached for him. He moved his hands again to her shoulders, stiffening his arms to push her away.
Her eyes opened, black in the dim light, heavy with confusion and arousal. Her lips trembled, rosy and pouting from the pressure of his kiss.
"Why..." she began. "Don't...don't go. Please."
She reached again, straining against the restraint of his stiffened arms.
"Oh, for crying out loud. What does it take to convince you?"
Looking up at him with huge stunned eyes, she didn't answer. With a growl, half frustration and half despair, he lifted her, swinging her clear of the floor and into his arms. He crossed the room in two long strides to drop her limp body on the couch. Then he lay down, half covering her, and again slanted his mouth over hers. Beneath his weight, her body seemed to soften as if to absorb him.
Hard and heated with need, he became oblivious to anything but the warm, soft female body beneath him. With a single sharp slashing pull, he unfastened the snaps down the front of her ruffle-trimmed western blouse. While the clasp of her brassiere did not yield to an experimental tug, a second, harder jerk parted it.
She trembled slightly as he cupped her bared breasts, but she made no protest. Her skin looked alabaster white except for the soft rosy bud at the tip of each small, exquisitely formed breast. So soft. Sweet. Warm. Yielding. Still, a tiny part of him held back, waiting for the expected whimper, the first flinch of fear or protest.
But none came.
He shifted, moving more fully over her. Their belt buckles grated in a metallic clash. At the sound, he stopped short, jarred back to awareness. His hands stilled, and he tore his lips away from hers. Drawing a deep breath, Lawton dragged himself up and away standing in a single, savage twist. "Damn it, no!"
He would not give in however great his need. Maybe it was what she wanted, but he would not take her like that. Something about her drew and moved him as nothing had in years, more years than he cared to count, but that did not make right something so utterly wrong. Still, it would be so easy, with his whole body screaming its need, with her welcoming warmth spread before him like an offering. But he wasn't going to do it.
Why hadn't she gotten scared, cried or resisted? The realization of what he had almost done crashed over him, bringing a wave of sick disgust. Why had she shown no trace of resistance, no reluctance, no single iota of unwillingness? He'd damn near raped her, and she'd simply offered herself to him, totally, openly, even lovingly.
Though he'd sensed no artifice in the welcome of her body, he could not accept it. Drawing another harsh, deep breath, he began to straighten his clothes. He breathed carefully, evenly, fighting for a measure of calm. Afraid to see in her eyes the fear and pain her body had not expressed, he could not look at Melissa.
He had to get away. He had no room for any other thought. As he stalked toward the door, he noted the dark arc left by his boot heel on the pale, ivory surface. It stood out like a bruise, accusing. In that trivial sign, he saw an ultimate condemnation of his abominable behavior.

First Excerpt--The Man in Black

Background: Melissa and her friend Jo have attend the July 4th festivities at Graveyard Gulch, a restored mining camp. Jo has joined a group that does reenactments of gunfights and other events. Melissa has had her eye on a man in the group, but one the others all say is a loner. His name is Lawton Kane. The group, called “The Gulch Gang”, has just finished lunch and is going out to assemble for a street show.

When they left, Melissa carefully worked her way around until she reached Lawton's side.
"Hi, L...uh...Lawton. Isn't this a great day?"
He did glance at her now, but only the swiftest brush of a gaze. "Hello...er...Melinda, isn't it?"
"Melissa," she corrected gently. "But that's all right. It's hardly a memorable name."
He shook his head as if banishing some errant thought and glanced down at her again.
"No, it's a very pretty name. Has a nice sound to it. I apologize. I won't forget again. You were saying?"
"Oh, nothing important. I love the Fourth of July, though. Celebrating our country's birthday, you know, and in Philadelphia, of course it was always a big event at Liberty Hall, speeches and...well, you know about that, I'm sure. Yesterday Jo and I went to the events up on the Fort. It was so impressive, watching the soldiers. I can't imagine how a person could learn all those steps and turns. It's worse than dancing!"
Drat, I'm babbling again, sounding like a total airhead. He's going to think I don't have one speck of a brain.
He actually smiled, just a little. "Not all that hard," he said. "Generations of farm boys have learned how. City kids too. Most of them with two left feet, just like me."
As the afternoon went on, Melissa made sure she didn't get too far from Lawton. Off and on they even talked in a desultory fashion. When she stubbornly stayed near him, Lawton gave her several quizzical glances. Finally, she confessed she was trying to use him as a barrier to keep Stan a safe distance away. Lawton responded with a short bark of laughter.
"Not being female, I wouldn't know why, but most of the ladies don't seem too impressed with him. Stan's awfully full of himself. Is that the problem?"
Melissa glared at the subject of their conversation. The man was crude, pushy, and chauvinistic. He disgusted her! She nodded.
"Yes. For one thing, he won't take no for an answer! He acts like he's God's gift to us all. I hate having to be rude, but I guess that's what it takes."
She looked up at him again, caught the swift glance he slanted down at her. For the merest instant, she could have sworn he grinned.
He twitched one shoulder in a quick shrug. "Some people are impervious to subtlety, you know. Okay, I'll be your watchdog for the rest of the day."
She wondered briefly at his choice of words. An odd vocabulary for a cowboy. Though not exactly the response she'd dreamed of, it was better than nothing. She had his tacit permission to stay near him, anyway.
After they presented the last street show at four o'clock, the group drifted down the street toward the clubhouse. As they walked, Melissa dared to ask Lawton a question that had been nagging at her.
"Do you think they really had fast drawing gunfighters in the old days? It always seemed to me like something they made up in Hollywood, or maybe even before that, in the dime dreadfuls."
"You're at least partly right," he replied. "There were definitely gunfighters, and probably some of them were pretty quick, but they didn't have weapons with the capabilities of ours. I'd say most of the desperados were likelier to ambush or shoot in the back than challenge anybody to a shoot-out at high noon, while the lawmen were more inclined to rely on accuracy than speed. But there were gunfights between people who had grudges, maybe over disputed ownership of a cow or horse, a rich claim, or the favors of a woman."

…He then shows her how to hold and dry-fire his revolver and she is as impressed with the man himself as with the weapon. She is surprised how easily they talk about this and how relaxed he seems with a familiar subject.

Melissa looked up and smiled back as she returned the revolver to him. Their hands brushed at the instant their gazes met and locked. Suddenly every spot he had touched as he showed her how to hold and aim the revolver seemed to catch fire. Her skin tingled and a fluttering heat flashed through her body.
For just a moment, his pale eyes came alive with emotion. Unable to define or explain it, she could only look, lost in their silvery flames. Finally he tore his gaze away, shaking his head as his face hardened into its usual distant chill. He rammed the revolver back into his holster.
"We'd better get inside," he growled.
The moment of easy camaraderie ended abruptly, leaving Melissa too shaken to react. After Lawton strode away, she made no attempt to approach him again. She crept inside and sat down with the Joneses to eat a quick supper of cold cuts and salads. More than once, she felt someone's gaze on her and turned to catch Lawton watching her, but each time he looked away immediately, as if to deny it.
She sighed, hurt and puzzled by his peculiar behavior. I'll never understand that man. He may know his own mind, but it's a mystery to me. Why do I even bother?

At dusk, they all piled into several pick-up trucks and drove to the edge of town, parking under a man-made hill where overburden or ore-less rock had been dumped during the mining days. Since the barren area reduced the danger of a fire, it was an ideal site for the traditional fireworks display.
Quite by accident, Melissa ended up on the same truck as Lawton, but Stan was also on it. As they watched the fireworks explode into blossoms of color overhead, someone pressed close behind her. She didn't have to look to know it was Stan rather than Lawton, simply because she felt none of the tingle of excitement stirred by Lawton's slightest touch. Disappointment shadowed her pleasure in the beautiful spectacle.

Thoughts on Independence Day

Happy Independence Day, everyone! I think the Fourth of July is my favorite holiday. There are many reasons for this. Yes, I am patriotic. I guess that sounds silly and it is definitely not cool in many circles but I’m not ashamed to shout it aloud. My late husband had been a Marine and his period of service was one of the high points of his life. The same applies to my middle son. I worked for almost twenty five years for the Army and the Air Force, where I gained wholehearted respect for our men and women in uniform who go into harm’s way for our country and for us. My heart is with those who are in that position this very day. God keep them safe.

As a student of history, I am familiar with the background of the forming of our nation and the extreme daring that was required by those men who signed their names to the Declaration of Independence. They could have been hung for treason by the British government, so they took quite a risk. Yet they and many more since have taken life threatening risks which have resulted in the freedom, the amazing life style and the relative peace we enjoy today. We owe all of them a great debt, one which we can never repay except in part by our loyalty and remembrances on days such as this when we celebrate various aspects of our country and those who formed and defend it—Memorial Day, Veteran’s Day and a few other special days come to mind.

Patriotism is not blind acceptance of everything the government says or does; it is not adherence to any political party or philosophy. It is loyalty to one’s country and willingness to put your life or your time or your thoughts into efforts to make it better if possible and to keep it strong and secure. I don’t see how anyone can not be comfortable with that, but that’s just me and my approach, I guess.

I am not ashamed to get a bit teary eyed when I see the patriotic themed floats and the Veterans’ groups parade today; nor when I hear one of those wonderful Sousa marches played, whether very skillfully by a group like the Marine Band or just enthusiastically by a band of middle school students. It’s the spirit that counts! So please, my friends, take a minute today if you will and reflect on the illustrious history that lies behind us as we celebrate the 225th birthday of the United States of America and say a fast prayer for all the folks who have made this day possible. Then go back to your ball games, picnics, or whatever else you are doing to celebrate and enjoy to the hilt!

Another reason this is a favorite holiday of mine is that I absolutely adore fireworks! I am one big kid when it comes to the annual displays. I love every minute of it, every boom and blast and blossom of gorgeous color in the night sky. I’ve tried to photograph them and it never comes out although I have had a few interesting shots which might be UFOs or crazy chrysanthemums or goodness-knows-what!

This evening I will drive to a ridge about a mile from my house, with my ‘fur kids’ for company, and sit as dusk falls listening to the sleepy birds and the sigh of the breeze. There may be some natural ‘fireworks’ too since our summer rainy season has begun early but I am hoping the displays will not be rained out! I will be able to see them from my own little town of Huachuca City, Sierra Vista just down the road outside the gate of Fort Huachuca, and even some of those from Tombstone, twenty miles east of me! I will oh and ah and the doggies will wonder what the heck I am talking about, but they are patient and will accept that Mama does funny stuff. When the last sparkle fades, I will start the car and drive back home, well content that the world is moving along through another summer and once again I have been privileged to watch a spectacle that I greatly enjoy.

This time I am going to feature one of Gwynn Morgan’s books. The Man in Black is a contemporary romantic adventure set in the southwest and features a veteran with some heavy baggage as the hero. It is one of my favorite books, not quite as hot as those by Deirdre but with its share of love scenes. A pivotal event and scene takes place on the Fourth of July in this story and I will post a couple of excerpts from this in a few minutes. You can read the first chapter at my website www.gwynnmorgan.com and buy it at www.amberquill.com/ManInBlack.html or at least take a look at the excellent cover that Trace Edward Zabar created for this story! And, I reckon I'll give away one download copy to one lucky someone who either posts here or emails me at azwriter427@yahoo.com with a favorite Fourth of July story or a comment on my reflections on this day. Have a great one, everybody!

Gwynn Morgan