Here’s what he told me.
If a guy says:
that’s a pretty sweater
you have pretty breasts
If he says:
those are awesome boots/shoes
you have awesome legs
If he says:
those are great jeans
you have a great ass
Ok. That’s not the whole list. There were others including potential compliments including her jacket, blouse, skirt, turtleneck, tank top, khakis, gloves, hat, scarf—and others I’ve already forgotten because I wasn't really listening because he looked so cute when he was talking, and I was sort of thinking about something else.
I do remember though, when I asked him if there were any coded compliments about other things—other things being anything other than the woman’s body—and him drawing a complete blank. I prompted him with, you know, like maybe if they want to say something about her personality or intelligence.
Again another blank.
Thanks goodness women do not objectify men the same way. No, we always consider first their personality and good qualities, like social and environmental awareness.
We'd never do anything like ogle at pictures or stare at some random guy.
Have a great day.
PS - Check out my upcoming release.The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita which will be available on the 5th of September as part of TEB's fabulous new Bollywood collection.
I am yet to completely succumb to the technological revolution that is making its way into the book industry. There are various schools of thought on the topic of ebooks and the various devices on which they can be read. Some people believe that they are poised to take over from their physical counterparts. Others think that ebooks are a minor player in the story of literature and can never replace the lead.
Only recently have I renewed my acquaintance with the library, after years of buying the books that I wanted to read. I have discovered the pleasure of browsing the shelves for books to borrow and read, rather than turning my home into what appears to be a disorganised book warehouse. It is something I hadn’t done since I was studying and, even then, it was a chore rather than a pleasure.
Ebooks are great. Their ability to be downloaded onto mobile readers offer a great deal of convenience and a number of different options. However, I’m still more captivated with hard copies. This feeling extends to more than books as I also prefer to get the Sunday newspaper so that I can spread it out in front of me rather than reading it online. While I still see many people with books and newspapers, I saw a woman on the train with a Kindle for the first time just a short time ago—I’m glad to know that I don’t stand alone. Wile technology is fantastic, I’m still looking forward to Art of the Written Word in good old paperback.
I’d pictured a blissful week of writing, editing, sipping coffee, and maybe (just maybe) a margarita. When the temperature blazed into triple digits, enough was enough. I piled everyone into the car and headed for the coast.
Something magic happened at the beach. I no longer wanted to write or edit. I wanted to look for roseate spoonbills (sometimes mistaken for flamingos). I wanted to see dolphins. I wanted to watch the sun rise and set. I wanted to download videos on my phone of summer beach songs. I wanted to take long walks. I wanted to teach Kyland to throw a Frisbee.
I wanted to build sandcastles, take pictures of gulls, try shrimp stuffed with Monterey jack cheese then wrapped in bacon and deep fried.
I wanted crab cakes instead of bacon for breakfast. I wanted to feel the surf swirl around my ankles. I wanted to see shrimp boats, tour the pier, explore an oil rig museum, explore and island I’d never been to, even catch a ferry.
I wanted to have long conversations, pick up tourist brochures, and wear big floppy hats.
I left for Texas imagining hours to write and rest.
Instead, I got something a whole lot better: renewal
I came home inspired. I came home with new ideas. I came home ready to begin my workout program again.
I’ve written more recently than in the last few months. I’ve planned out three new books. And I played my first competitive racquetball matches.
By taking time away from my craft, I returned to it more jazzed than ever, richer from experiences, more able to appreciate simple pleasures.
I’m convinced…doing nothing is sometimes more productive than anything else…
Here on the eastern coast of the United States, summer is slowly giving way to fall. I can feel it in the air -- there is that crispness that says the summer humidity is slowly disappearing and soon the leaves will be falling, creating a carpet of reds and yellows and browns under my feet. It is one of the sweetest times I can imagine, but there is a part of me that feels sad at the bittersweet farewell to the summer.
What better way to say goodbye to summer and hello to fall than with a sexy ode to the hottest thing a couple could do on a sultry day?
Here's a short story for your enjoyment. I hope you like it!
It was ninety-eight degrees at noon. The weather forecasters in their snazzy summer suits were warning everyone to stay inside, drink plenty of water and keep those air conditioners running.
My air conditioner had just kicked the bucket.
“Popsicles,” my husband said over the phone. “Ice. Bags of frozen peas to put on the backs of our necks. It could be worse! Cheer up, babe.”
I ventured to the fridge to get some of those Popsicles.
That’s where he found me when he came home for lunch, my clothes lying all over the floor, my naked body pressed lightly against the shelves of the open refrigerator. My nipples were hard and every now and then they brushed against the gallon of milk, which made them harder. I had devoured two popsicles and was going for a third.
The thermometer on the window was in the shape of a yellow smiley face. It read exactly one-hundred degrees.
He unzipped his pants. Took off his shirt. I slid a Popsicle into his mouth as he slid his cock into me. Sweat from his hair plopped on my back, a blissful trail of relief. I pushed back against him and spread my legs wide. My nipples rested on the top shelf, painfully tight with the delicious cold.
He sucked hard on the Popsicle until there was almost nothing of it left. I took the last little sliver and gently pushed it against my clit, let it rub against his cock as he slid in and out of my overheated pussy. He held an ice cube to the back of my neck and then against the crack of my ass, cooling me and heating me up and making water drip on the floor between our feet.
I came when he nudged the last little sliver of that ice cube into my pussy and then pushed it in with his cock. I rocked back against him, moaning. One more thrust and he was there with me. The jets of his semen were hot inside me. He came hard enough to lift me off my feet with that final thrust. The blasts of frigid air rained down over our bodies, making us both shiver.
I sucked down the last of the popsicle. It tasted like cherries and him and me and sweat.
“Tomorrow is going to be another scorcher,” he said breathlessly.
I pulled out another popsicle. Opened it up. Sucked on it. Turned around and dropped to my knees in front of the refrigerator, my mouth soft and icy cold, his cock still hard enough. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. I looked up at him with a wicked grin.
“Bring it on,” I said.
What's your favorite sultry memory of summer? Was it the time when you were just falling in love for the first time? Or was it a hot romp with a lover that caught you by surprise? Tell us!
There is a literary agent who I sometimes wonder about since she is a prolific blogger and has some huge names on her roster. As I tuned into her daily rant this morning, I clicked on the right side of her page for her archives and laughed so hard coffee was coming up through my nose.
A year ago, this beacon of all literary knowledge predicted that erotic romance was on its way out.
Yeah, right. Her blog went on to say that in spite of publishers "opening the bedroom door" on a huge number of previously released books that closed them once the readers got to share in a "kiss and a feel", the trend was cooling.
Well you know what they say about opinions and everyone having them...just like we all have a certain often-functioning part of our anatomy.
What it showed me was a general 'literary snobbiness' about our genre. I experienced this myself from both writers and other industry professionals I know who view what we do as 'porn.'
With more and more hopeful publishers joining the ranks of erotic romance, I think it's safe to say the agent was very wrong. I am asked all the time by both published authors and aspiring ones in the area of erotic romance if they need an agent. My answer is always, NO.
If you are keen on giving up 15% of your income for no apparent reason, go for it. A literary agent won't get you in the door of a Hollywood studio with your erotic romance novel, especially if it's M/M.
They won't even push you toward New York publishing houses even if you sell tons. No...I've seen it too many times with other authors. I also experienced it myself.
Four years ago I was able to disengage from a contract with a literary agent who was never able to do much but set meetings for me with production companies who stole my ideas. When I started writing my books, she pooh-poohed them. After a bad situation where an episode idea I pitched to a TV series was swiped - yet again - I severed my ties with her.
She eventually lost all her clients who experienced the same heartbreak and she recently contacted me saying she is working as a package producer for a big agency. That means she is trying to sell all the components of a movie in one: screenplay, producer (herself), director and stars.
I realized that she is typical of the type of agent who really thinks they are producers and/or publishers. They think they know what sells and I guess since all my ideas were stolen, she was right.
The truth is in spite of all the dire predictions about the publishing industry, there has never been a better time for us authors. We can contact publishers directly and hey, they sometimes even approach us once we've built a track record.
I've also learned through my day job as a screenplay reader that erotic romance authors are generally derided by quality agents. Yes, many companies that used to lock those bedroom doors are looking to open them, but getting agents to take us seriously will still take time.
And that's okay as far as I'm concerned because we'll all still be here, tearing those damned locks off those bedroom doors one at a time.
Oh, and no matter what day you’re having, give in to one indulgence and pick up the fabulous new stories out today with TotalE-Bound. It’s a pleasure you deserve.
Or maybe I should say- what is it about me, and chocolate?
Chocolate and I certainly have a love/hate relationship. I love to eat it but I hate what indulging in too much of it can do to my weight so I’m very circumspect about my chocolate indulgence.
I have a visible stash of chocolate bars in the cupboard that I raid once a week or so. This stash has the bars I buy at the grocery store.
My hidden stash currently boasts eight big Lindt bars. These are the ones I like to nibble on every day. What the heck! I only have two squares and the chocolate is dark and good for you. See how easy it is to rationalize about chocolate.
There are four bars of Lindt Excellence Orange Intense which are dark chocolate with pieces of orange and almond slivers.
There are two Lindt Creation 70% Orange which are 70% cocoa dark chocolate with an orange and truffle filling.
The last two are from the Lindt Petits Desserts collection and are dark chocolate with a light chocolate mousse filling.
I’m not one of those people who turns to chocolate in times of stress or sorrow. I just love the taste. Whenever I go to Toronto, no matter what the time of year, my treat to myself is to order a large hot chocolate covered in whipped cream. Yummy!
But the main purpose of today’s blog is to pass along some of my favourite chocolate recipes.
The first one is Hot Fudge Cake.
A friend of mine once said, “With a tub of vanilla ice cream and a little black dress, a woman can have whatever she wants.”
This delicious chocolate cake makes its own hot fudge sauce and cries out for vanilla ice cream and a little black dress.
I don’t know if you’ll get what you want but I can guarantee that it will be fun to try.
1 cup flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup sugar (try brown sugar)
5 tablespoons cocoa
1/2 cup milk
2 tablespoons melted butter
1 cup brown sugar
2 cups boiling water
Mix together flour, baking powder, salt, 3/4 cup sugar and 1 tablespoon cocoa. Add the milk and melted butter and stir well. Place in an ungreased, square cake pan.
In a small bowl, combine the remaining 1 cup of brown sugar and 4 tablespoon cocoa.
Sprinkle evenly over the mixture in the pan. Pour the boiling water over the whole mixture just before putting into the oven. Do not stir.
Bake at 350 degrees F for 45 to 55 minutes. Serve warm with a quality vanilla ice cream.
The second recipe is for Incredible Double Chocolate Brownies.
My family said these brownies are the best they’d ever tasted. You couldn’t wish for a better recommendation than that.
Hope you like them as much as we did. They disappeared way too fast!
Incredible Double Chocolate Brownies
1/2 cup of melted butter
4 oz. semisweet chocolate, broken into pieces
1 1/3 cups light brown sugar
pinch of salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 large eggs
1 cup unbleached flour
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa
1/2 cup white chocolate chips
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease and line the bottom of an 8x8 pan with parchment paper.
In a double boiler or in a bowl over hot water, melt butter and chocolate. Stir until smooth and let cool slightly.
Stir in sugar, salt and vanilla extract then add eggs one at a time, stirring until well blended.
Mix together flour, cocoa and chocolate chips and add to butter mixture. Beat until smooth.
Bake in preheated oven for 35-40 minutes, or until the top is evenly coloured and a skewer inserted into the centre comes out almost clean. Begin to check brownies at 30 minutes. They should be just starting to come away from the sides of the pan. Brownies shouldn’t be overcooked.
So I hope you’ll try one of these chocolately indulgent recipes. Let me know how you feel about chocolate. Please leave a comment.
And if you really like indulgence, make sure you check out my story, Indulge Me, a male/male story set in the largest gay spa in Toronto.
See you next month,
Tales to seduce and entice…
e released, but I have been a part of Total-E-Bound for two years next month doing their blogtalk radio show and to be more a part of this great group of authors feels awesome!
It's the mid-nineteen-eighties. I don't remember the year, or the exact date. I am sitting in my best friend's living room, legs drawn up on her parents' old sofa with two other girls from school around us. We're totally keyed-up – the way teenage girls will be when they're looking forward to something.
We're gathered in front of a tiny TV set to watch … wait for it … The Rocky Horror Picture Show! One of us, I don't remember who, has heard that it's good. A musical. We like musicals. We've been looking forward to this for quite a while. I don't know how she did it, but my friend managed to convince her parents that it's educational. Come to think of it, it probably is educational. Maybe just not in the traditional sense of the word.
I don't know when or how exactly it happens. One moment I am giggling with the other girls, watching a room full of weirdos doing the time warp and the next I am struck by lightning.
I am watching Tim Curry strut around the room in a corset, a garter-belt with fishnet stockings and a pair of impossibly high sparkling platform heels. He is pushing his hips out, singing "I'm just a sweet transvestite…" and it's a total revelation. I don't have a word for this yet but it's exactly what I need.
I have fallen in love with Tim Curry's kinky outfit, his make-up, hell, I have fallen in love with his mouth! I cherish his every word. And that's when he does it. The music has stopped and he is speaking the lyrics now, with pauses for dramatic effect. He looks straight at me and says:
"I see you shiver with antici...
I shiver, I hardly dare to breathe (neither do Brad and Janet, but at that moment I couldn't care less about the two dorks). I wait, breathlessly, for the second half of the word. And then it comes:
… pation!" And I can breathe again, move again. The world has stopped but now it's turning again.
This is what I am talking about.
Anticipation is the hand that brushes the inside of my thigh. It's the tiny breath that touches my mouth just before I feel his lips on mine. It's the shivering sensation just before ... It's a moment of utter bliss and utter desperation as you are waiting for the fulfillment of a promise.
What does anticipation mean to you? Leave a comment! I'd love to hear from you.
Want more? You can catch me at my blog A DARK KIND OF DESIRE. And I am apparently taking over this spot from Gillian Archer. So, see you around here next month!
For my b-day I decided to buy some books, movies and music. These are three of the things I enjoy doing. Reading, watching movies and/or listening to music. I sometimes do all three together. On my relaxing day with family we watched movies, danced crazily to music and ate. After I had so much wonderful books to choose from to read so I found a corner and read while my family brought me drinks and cake. Ahhh… I love my b-day.:)
…increasing the sizzle factor
Chat Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/crenshawcafe
Free Reads Site: http://www.satinnotes.com/
Recently I was working on an interview for another author's blog. One question asked, "What sort of characters do you tend to write? Do your characters show any of your own traits?" After thinking a while, I wrote: "My heroines tend to be strong and independent. Some might call them stubborn."
It's true. There's Kate (Raw Silk), who stubbornly holds on to the notion that she's not submissive in the face of graphic evidence to the contrary, and Christine (Bodies of Light), who refuses to give up even when she understands that she's the last person alive on her space ship. Christine insists on venturing out into deep space to do repairs even though, rationally, it is a useless effort. Stella Xanathakeos, the heroine in my erotic thriller Exposure, persists in her quest to solve the mystery of the charismatic mayor's murder, though her house is burgled and she receives death threats. Elena, in my paranormal Serpent's Kiss, refuses to obey the admonitions of her reincarnated-god lover, changing the course of human history as a result.
With the publication of Wild About That Thing next month, I'll add another stubborn, self-directed woman to my collection. Ruby Jones is a single mother, struggling to realize her dream of owning a blues club. Her respectable dentist husband ran off with his receptionist, leaving her to raise their son Isaiah and pick up the pieces of her self-esteem. She moves from Chicago to New York City, opens the Crossroads Blues Bar, and eventually takes Zeke, leader of the house band, as her lover. However, she's determined not to be hurt again and refuses to be dependent on any man, even though it's clear that Zeke loves her dearly and wants to care for both her and her son.
One thing I've learned in my nearly thirty years of marriage. Stubbornness is in the eye of the beholder. When I call my husband stubborn, he laughingly tells me he takes after his wife. I think he's the one who's stubborn. As for me, I'm not stubborn, not really. No, I'm consistent and principled, unwilling to accept less than the best or to give in, even for the sake of domestic peace, when I know that he's wrong.
He undoubtedly sees us in mirror image. From his perspective, I'm the one who's inflexible and intransigent. He's the one who's right.
Sometimes holding on to a position without compromise is the right thing to do. When it comes to opposing torture in any form, you're darned right I'm stubborn. But stubbornness can have unintended, hurtful consequences in human relationships. In Wild About That Thing, Ruby's insistence on having her freedom almost costs her the love that she - that everyone - needs.
Her story reminds me to think carefully before I did in my heels. There are times when a graceful surrender of one's position is the best strategy for all concerned. I want to make sure that I make the right decision in those situations. After all, I may be stubborn, but I'm not stupid. I want my happy ending, too.
Silver Screen Dream is only 3 weeks away from being released!
I apologise for the terrible title pun, it's just something I can't resist! I'm very excited about this new release because it is something completely new for me and I'm eager to see how it goes down, so to speak. I'm hoping people will love my characters as much as I do.
Book one in the Djinn's Amulet Series
When true love conquers all, what is a djinn to do?
Johnny is a djinn, and he has a hard life. His master, Rahul, is a massive Bollywood star who’s run off to England to avoid an arranged marriage, a marriage Johnny has to make happen. It’s his job.
Rahul further complicates matters by falling for a British Bollywood fan, Laura, whom he meets at a film premiere. How can Johnny get his master back to Mumbai to marry the woman to whom he is pledged and away from the English hussy who is steadily taking more and more of his attention?
Johnny will use revenge and jealousy, but how will he cope when true love is thrown into the mix?
Last time I blogged here I introduced you to Johnny, my djinn, well, he's not mine he's Rahul's but you know what I mean. Today I thought I'd introduce you to Laura.
Laura is a lovely young lady who works in a Cinema in London. She has a really passion for Bollywood movies passed down to her from her Nani. Now, Laura is as pasty white as I am so how can she have an Indian grandparent? The answer is she doesn't. The lady in question babysat her when she was little and Laura just copied all her Grandchildren and called her Nani.
Nani loved all things Bollywood and would sit down the rabble of children and they'd watch the newest Bollywood titles coming alive on screen for them. Laura dreamed of going to India one day, of becoming a translator and she still does but life dealt her a hard blow and she's still desperately saving up to go out to Mumbai.
When she here's that the latest Bollywood blockbuster is premiering at her cinema and some of it's stars are going to be amongst the people watching she begs to be involved because Rahul Khan is her greatest Bollywood love. This is a little extract from the part of the story where Laura first meets Rahul:
“You know who I am?” Rahul asked with a kinked eyebrow.
“Yes, I do. I used to have a lovely Nani who would babysit for me. We watched Bollywood films together. You were one of her favourites.”
“Really?” Rahul beamed. “That’s so sweet. So you enjoy Bollywood yourself?”
“Oh, yes,” I replied, forgetting my nerves and letting the love sparkle in my eyes. “I still watch all the newest releases. I’m going to see Benazir tomorrow when it comes out to the general public.”
“Wonderful. Will you be here when the film is over?”
“Yes, Mr Khan, I will.”
“Then I’ll make sure to write you an autograph, okay? It’s always nice to meet beautiful new fans.”
“Thank you, Mr Khan, that would be wonderful.” I giggled. I tried not to, but the joyful noise just bubbled up beyond my control.
“Oh, call me Rahul, please. Mr Khan is so formal.”
“Okay, Rahul. You’d better take your seat, the film will start soon.”
“Ah yes, and you need to get the drinks in before Farharnaa dies of thirst.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’ll leave you to your work. See you later.” He took a step towards the door then looked back over his fine, muscled shoulder. “Oh, you know my name but I don’t know yours.”
I smiled. “I’m Laura.”
“Laura. Well, it’s been lovely meeting you.” He held out his hand.
I shook it. I think I managed to control my movements quite well, in my arm, anyway. The rest of my body was vibrating like a jelly in an earthquake.
“I’ll see you afterwards, okay?” he added.
“Certainly.” I smiled and reluctantly let go of his hand.
I didn’t have time to squeal, faint or do a happy dance, but I wanted to do all three at once. However, I stopped my instincts and got on with getting and delivering drinks orders. Then I took up my position outside the screen doors. I was not exactly the same as a burly security guard, but apparently I was cheaper.
However, as much as I knew I shouldn’t, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek through a crack between the doors to get a glimpse of the newest, hottest Bollywood movie.
I couldn’t see Rahul from my position. Well, not the Rahul who was there in the flesh. I could see the one splashed across the screen in cool, white, billowing clothes who was looking thoughtful and tasteful and downright sexy.
I swung back out as I realised how long I’d been snooping. Tony would kill me if he knew what I was doing. No one was in the dark, royal blue corridor, and as I fidgeted about, my mind wandered.
I was meant to be there to direct the stars to the toilets or to answer any other enquiries they might have, but I just wanted to watch the film, preferably snuggled close to Rahul. That would be surreal, to watch the star I loved on the big screen with the man himself beside me. I imagined his arm around me, his cheek against mine.
I didn’t think we’d watch much of the film. I know I would be far too distracted by his presence beside me. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything but touching him and kissing him, and I would just lose myself in the ecstasy of his plump lips pressed against mine.
I had to peep again, I just couldn’t resist. I reached out to open the door once more without even glancing that way. My hand encountered something hard, but it was also warm and it certainly wasn’t wooden like the door would have been.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I didn’t see you there.”
“It’s okay,” Rahul replied with a smirk. “I never complain when a pretty lady touches me.”
“Are you all right? Do you need anything?”
I stepped back but didn’t take my hand off his chest. Signals from my brain were taking forever to seep through the excited cells of my body to my fingers.
“I do want something,” he said, and stared deep into my eyes as the door swung shut behind him. “I want you.”
I wasn’t sure I had heard him right at first. I decided I must have been fantasising again.
“I want you,” he repeated. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
“Me?” I was stunned. I should have leapt on him. I should have pushed my face to his, but all I did was stand rooted to the spot. Oh, and I gawped. Like a wide-mouthed clown on a miniature golf course, I let my jaw hang loose.
“Yes,” he affirmed, “you.”He stepped forward and pushed a curl of my hair back behind my ear. His warm fingers lingered on my cheek, his soft palm lay gently on my heated flesh.
I held my breath.
He looked at my lips, and I darted my tongue out instinctively to wet the dried flesh that I had suddenly become intensely aware of.
It was just like my favourite moment from any Bollywood film. Time slowed, colours intensified and I noticed the ice shock of his blue corneas against the jet black, widened pools of lust that were his pupils.
I could hear the softened, romantic music. It might have been real or imagined, I wasn’t sure, but everything in the background faded away, and it became as if Rahul and I were the only people in all the world.
The moment his lips touched mine, I felt as if I had been switched on. Turned on, certainly, but I was also fully functioning. Every little brush of his lips on mine registered in every last, little nerve. Every movement excited me. I realised I had been left on standby since I had been dumped by Danny, my body just going through the motions. Rahul’s kiss brought me back to life.
Silver Screen Dream will be available to download from the 5th September 2011 but you can pre-order your copy now so you know you will be one of the very first people to meet Laura, Johnny and Rahul!