Welcome to Six Sentence Sunday. This month my name appeared in the Romance Writer’s Report magazine. Not for first sale or newest amazing book deal. Nope. It was part of an ad by the Fantasy, Futuristic and Fantasy chapter announcing the winners of their Prism Contest. My novel, A Touch of Lilly placed third in the erotic romance category. It was in reeeeally small print … but hey, I was in there!
So I thought I’d celebrate and share six lines from this science fiction menage story:
Lilly’s focus had been on Dallas and her desire for him. But having the heat of Thaegan’s body pressed against her back certainly kicked her heart rate up another notch.
“I was hoping to join you.” Thaegan’s words came out as if he’d dragged them over a burning road of molten lust.
“I don’t know. I…” Her body thrummed with energy and need and Lilly didn’t really know what she wanted.
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Lilly D’Angelo could have been walking into any of the seedier establishments lining Forty-fifth and Wester on Chicago’s south side. Except for the clientele, the tavern’s owner had managed to replicate nearly every detail right down to the blue haze and the soft crooning of a jazz band on the corner stage. The acrid stench and gruff hum of a Friday night crowd tripped Lilly down memory lane-—a place she had no desire to travel at the moment.
Lilly pushed the sour thoughts of home out of her mind and focused her energy on the patrons at the bar. Morphing her features into her sexiest vixen pout, she moved gracefully toward the long bar on the other side of the room. The eyes watching her ass sashay around the battered tables were clustered on various life forms-—none of them human.
Thanks so much for stopping over. I’m thoroughly enjoying this meme. Your comments totally make my day! See you next week!
I couldn’t do an update this week without telling everyone how fortunate I am to have such a wonderful mom. She raised 5 children (each of us a year apart … you do the math … FIVE teenagers! And she survived!) She’s been wonderful as I’ve become a mom. She hangs back until we ask for advice and then gently shares her wisdom. Mom lives far away from me and though we don’t talk on the phone very often, I think about her every day.
But 27 years ago when I married Mr. Nina another wonderful mom came into my life. I’m so fortunate to have someone else who loves me unconditionally, supports and encourages. I truly am doubly blessed.
I’m not going to be with either of my moms today. But they are in my thoughts and prayers. If you’re a mom … Happy Mother’s Day. And I wish for all of you the special love of a mom.
Now, onto the good news this week …
Blind Love was a hot and sweet story. I enjoyed seeing a woman not holding back her feelings of discontent with her family and how she went for what she wanted … a book to go back to when you are in a sentimental mood, but with hotness thrown in.
Ms. Pierce has penned a wonderful mystery with twists and turns that will keep the reader guessing until the very end. The chemisty between Julie and Damon is smoking with sex scenes that will have you squirming in your seat. It doesn’t get much better than this. Intrique, family dynamics, hot sex and a true happy ending. I’ll be looking for the second book in what promises to be a great series.
Each and every character in this story was well developed and added to the plot. The emotions in this story are extensive and run the gamut from sorrow, guilt, anger, joy and hatred. The location itself is almost a character and Ms. Pierce brings it to life, I could almost smell the dirt and taste the wine. This author is one of my must-reads and this story showcases the talent that put her there.
How about an EXCERPT:
Having Nick present while she visited with Joseph wasn’t really in her plans. Frankie had tried to talk Nick into taking the motorcycle to the hospital later in the morning but Margaret had come running down the granite steps swinging a picnic basket as Frankie was climbing into the truck. She handed it to Nick with two quick kisses on his cheeks and stood watching as he climbed into the passenger side of the cab and they pulled from the driveway.
Now they were headed into town, the midmorning sun hanging in an azure sky, its rays dancing on Seneca Lake. Normally Frankie would have loved a day like this but the cab seemed claustrophobic with Nick Gradin’s surly attitude sitting between them.
“It’s not my fault you didn’t know who I was,” she said quietly.
Turning to her, he cocked a skeptical eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You knew your father had a stepdaughter.”
“And a child bride,” Nick remarked coldly. “I expected my stepsister to have pigtails and braces. Not…” His hand motioned up and down her torso.
“Well, you didn’t seem to mind the package yesterday.”
“Yesterday I thought you were Joseph’s assistant.”
“Funny, yesterday I thought you were a womanizing pig of a manwhore.” She shot him a patronizing smile. “Guess one of us was right.”
He frowned. “If you’ll recall, I wasn’t the one who came on to you in the field.”
“As I recall, it was you who was ready for action in the wine cellar.”
“I was simply reading the signals you were sending out.”
“Then you have a faulty GPS.”
“My wiring is just fine thank you.”
“I suppose you think it is, with all the woman you have tumbling into your posh Philadelphia bed.”
“Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, as if you don’t know.”
“I have no idea what you’re…oh, this is stupid. Pull over here.” Nick motioned to a dirt road that led to a small alcove near the lake.
She’d been parking there once in high school.
“I’m not going to see Joseph until we clear this up and can at least be civil to each other,” he said.
Frankie acquiesced. He was right. It wouldn’t do Joseph any good to have them bickering in front of him. She turned the truck into the trees, their pumpkin and gold leaves floating passively on the gentle breeze. They bumped down the dirt tracks, the center lane overgrown with the dried weeds of summer. Frankie felt as if she was entering the lion’s mouth. Anger surrounded Nick like the cloud of dust trailing behind them. She had no idea why he was so pissed when she’d only spoken the truth.
Shoving the truck in park and shutting off the engine, Frankie stared out over the lake. Its cobalt surface rippled at the gentle touch of the fall breeze. Maybe this was the perfect place to help Nick see things her way. Though she hadn’t exactly started the conversation off in the right direction, maybe she could try again. “I think—”
As if he hadn’t heard her, Nick got out and slammed the door. Pacing in front of the truck, he pulled at his bottom lip, an angry scowl furrowing his brows. What the hell was his problem? Frankie got out and stalked after him. “For someone who wants to talk, you’re damn rude, you know that, Gradin?”
He grabbed her and pressed her against the front of truck, the solid planes of his chest trapping her. “I don’t know what my father told you about me but I do not—I repeat, do not—have a rotating door on my bedroom. There is no harem of beauties waiting for me in Philly. When I choose to sleep with a woman I like there to be a little chemistry between me and the lady.” His mouth came down hungrily on hers, his taste already familiar. When his tongue ran the seam of her lips, she had no choice but to open to his assault. Fisting his hand in her hair, Nick controlled the breath-stealing tempo while his other hand surrounded her breast, squeezing the sensitive flesh. Warm shocks of want shot straight to her pussy. Frankie’s hands seized the soft chambray of his shirt, her heart racing in her ears. Nick broke from her as abruptly as he began. “And there’s no denying our chemistry, Francesca.”
Last I heard we lived in the twenty-first century not in seventeenth century New England in the middle of the Salem witch trials. Still, a group of small–minded individuals with very little to do but stir up trouble decided that a 10th grade teacher in Pennsylvania needed to be
hunted ambushed crucified outed. It seems this English teacher with 33 years experience teaching in the same school was doing something shameful behind the backs of the townspeople … she was writing erotic romance under a pen name to keep her private life–well, private!.
Oh, the horror!
Because you know all erotic romance authors are thinking about sex alllll the time. She probably was thinking each and everyone of the young men she was teaching was a possible research opportunity … yeah right! Where the hell would any parent in their right mind come up with that idea?
I started writing erotic romance before Little Boy Blue was out of high school. My children knew what type of books I wrote. Their friends knew what type of books I wrote. And trust me when I tell you there wasn’t one of them that wondered if their friend’s mother was thinking lurid thoughts about them. Ever imagine your parents “doing it”? Ewww … right? This falls in the same category IMHO.
The story broke two days ago. I must have read about it just a short time after it was released. I was in tears for Judy Mays. I wondered if the administration of the school was going to suspend her or worse. As a former teacher in a small town I know how rumors take on a life of their own and often steamroll over people and leave devastation in their wake.
But happily for Judy and her family, none of that happened.
What followed was a tidal wave of support on twitter and Facebook from the romance community (and many others) that warmed my heart. Judy’s situation went viral and authors all over stood up and shouted at the top of their lungs “Oh hell no!”. Within hours support on the facebook page topped 1,000 followers. Within 24 hours it had gone over the 5,000 mark and it’s still climbing … exponentially! Students, former students, parents, authors, heck people who only saw the story on the news, have all banded together to say that a teacher has a right to a private life. But it’s the romance community circling the wagons that just makes me smile. Despite the difficulty of acquiring contracts, romance authors support and encourage one another.
I know Judy. I had the privilege of meeting her at Romanticon in 2009. The woman is funny and kind. I have no doubt she makes English come alive for her students. And 33 years? Well, she’s got to love her job to stay with it that long. Despite the rough bumps she may have had to endure as this was unfolding, I suspect the publicity has give her sales a veeery nice bump.
I sure hope she and her family are able to take a nice, long summer vacation on someone’s small-minded stupidity!
Rock on, Judy!
First, I’d like to wish everyone celebrating a very Happy Easter. Though I couldn’t be with my children this holiday I did send each of them an easter basket full of candy…because I just can’t give it up!
If you’re keeping track of my crazy house hunt, Mr. Nina and I made an offer on a house that required quite a bit to upgrade and bring back into shape because the former owners passed away and it’s currently sitting empty. Unfortunately the powers that be who are running the estate didn’t think our offer was reasonable and walked away without discussing it. I think that house will be empty for a looooong time. (Though I told my realtor if they come to their senses…we’d still be willing to talk to them.) Anyhoodles, that means Mr. Nina and I are going back to the drawing board and will be house hunting some more.
In the “better news” category, I got a wonderful review for MAID FOR MASTER from Nocturne Romance Reads. Rayna gave it 4.5 hoots and has this to say…
Pierce has this enigmatic way of pulling the reader into her stories and Maid for Master does not disappoint. You get thrown right into a hot BDSM resort complete with role playing, one on one Dom/Sub relationships and to boot, a beautiful story line to follow. Readers not only get to be enticed with hot steamy sex scenes but also get to see a blossoming love relationship between the H/H…A tantalizing story! I suggest running a bubble bath and settle in for a while with this hot steamy read.
Yep, I’m snoopy dancing. How about a brand new EXCERPT to celebrate?
Claire’s bare feet tread steadily along the sandy path. Shafts of sunlight flickered in the cool shadows of the palm fronds. Lush leaves of thick underbrush tickled along her breasts and belly, raising goose flesh. Never had she been so aware of the sensations playing over her body. Even as the warm breath of the ocean breeze danced with her hair, caressing her sensitized skin like a lover’s touch, peaking her nipples and stroking her damp folds, Claire tried not to condemn herself for what she was about to do.
Determination winning out over uncertainty, she focused on her desires rather than the process. Soon there would be no sheltered path to hide her nudity. No way for her to deny her darkest fantasies. No opportunity for her to turn from her Master’s command.
But she would not deny him. Could not deny him.
He’d understood that before she’d been conscious of the thought.
Everything about the man demanded her attention. His presence filled a room and stole her breath. His touch shivered through her. Her body was never sated, always yearning for another caress, another stroke of those long fingers—another brush of his lips. But it was the sensual authority in his voice that captivated. Even a mere whisper thundered through her veins, pushing her to obey.
It was that voice Claire had heard when she’d read the beautiful script of a controlled hand. As clearly as if he’d been standing at the door to her suite commanding her submission, the timbre pulsed hot need straight to her pussy.
It has been too many hours since I last touched you, breathed the heady scent of your arousal, tasted my sweat on your lips. My cock hardens at the thought of you strapped to my bench, your flesh laced with the red streaks of my flogger and your luscious mouth sucking me deep. Join me at my luncheon in two hours at the Masters’ lodge behind the main building. Bring nothing but the gifts I have given you.
She hoped she had not misunderstood. Had he intended for her only to bring the gold band and the leather collar she wore? As she broke through the protective barrier of the foliage and rejoined the main stone walking path, Claire realized it didn’t matter. She’d made her choice.
I’d like to welcome AFTON LOCKE to the Block.
By day, Afton Locke is a logical programmer, but by night she swims in the mystical world of dreams. Intrigued by all things unexplained, like ghosts and karma, she delights in spinning dark, sensual stories that pull readers below the surface of everyday (and sometimes boring) life to the depths of forbidden fantasy.
What else would you expect from someone with her moon in Pisces and Neptune in Scorpio? She lives in the mountains with her husband, dog, and spooky black cat.
Take it away Afton …
Dark closet + sexy boss + 7 minutes = too HOT to stop!
Wanna play 7 Minutes in Heaven?
AVAILABLE NOW FROM ELLORA’S CAVE!
Ever had a fantasy about your boss? ‘Fess up. We all have.
Despite Eliza Worth’s attraction to her boss, Zach Taunton, she’s so fed up with his unreasonable demands she’s decided to look for another job. Her matchmaking friend Margo, determined to give Eliza some sexual healing for her work stress, invites her to a singles mixer, where Eliza reluctantly agrees to play a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. In a dark closet, Eliza is quickly brought to the edge and beyond by a sexy mystery man. Her initial intrigue quickly turns to horror when she discovers her masterful, anonymous lover is none other than her slave-driving boss himself—and Zach seems to want her for a lot longer than seven minutes. But first he’ll have to relinquish some control and negotiate his way into her heart.
Enjoy the video …
How about an (Adult) Excerpt?
(Copyright © AFTON LOCKE, 2011, All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.)
Her breath caught when she realized the room wasn’t just dark. It was completely black. She couldn’t see a thing now. Margo must have had special padding or weather-stripping installed around the edges of the door.
“You’re not allowed to talk, starting now,” Margo said, her voice muffled.
Eliza fought down the urge to pound on the door and beg to be let out but knew that would make her resemble a childish idiot. Not being able to see and knowing nothing about who was in the closet with her sent her heart rate into the aerobic range.
Her other senses soon took over. She heard the rustle of curtain, a man’s breathing and…oh God. That was Zach’s cologne. The distinctive blend of exotic spices and understated class had distracted her mid-task more than once at work.
Coincidence, she told herself as she clasped her hand across her throat. Lots of men wore the same cologne. He couldn’t possibly be here.
This man, whoever he was, didn’t seem nearly as inclined to pause and analyze the situation as she did. She gasped when a questing hand brushed her waist and arm, followed much too quickly by two steely arms fastening around her. Goose bumps exploded across her arms as rolled-up shirtsleeves and very hot forearms slid across her skin.
A pair of lips found her ear with uncanny precision and slashed across it, sliding into a jagged path down her neck. Beard stubble—another reminder of Zach—scraped her skin, sending dual sensations of alarm and pleasure shooting down her spine.
With her arms all but pinned to her sides, she could do nothing but slide her hands around the man’s waist. His body was hot and muscular under her fingers. Muscles flexed beneath the soft shirt as he maneuvered her to stand against a row of shelves. The delicate scent of laundered sheets mingled with his cologne, reminding her of beds.
She turned her chin toward his mouth, needing to taste him. Suddenly his hands anchored both sides of her face, holding her in place for a kiss. No, not a kiss—an onslaught. He skimmed her lips with his tongue before biting, tasting and teasing. Without even knowing exactly how, she found herself slack-jawed and senseless, wanting everything he had to give.
He tasted like wine, with a slight salty tang, as if he’d eaten caviar. While he claimed her tongue with punishing swirls of his own, his legs pressed hard against her, his cock even harder, bruising the delicate flesh over her pubic bone through their clothing.
“One minute has passed.”
The automated voice nearly made Eliza jump out of her skin. Margo had thought of everything.
The sensation of tugging at her blouse brought her attention to her breasts. Her blouse went slack and threatened to fall off when he unbuttoned the few large buttons. Needing and aching, her nipples anticipated strong fingers or a hot, flicking tongue.
At the same time, alarms went off in her head. Exactly how far did people go in this game? Surely seven minutes wasn’t enough time to go all the way but she was at his mercy, whatever he planned.
If this man fucked her in the dark, she wouldn’t even see his cock. She would only be able to feel it, thrusting into her drenched pussy.
“Wait, I—” she uttered.
I spent the better part of this week in another state shopping for a new home. The realtor said by the end of it we’ll be creating our own house in our heads putting a bathroom with a different livingroom and adding a kitchen from a different house. Oy! Was he right! My head is spinning with all the houses we’ve seen. I have to tell you, we looked at one house that was … interesting. There was no way to save the house from itself. There was an indoor pool (empty and without a liner) and an outdoor pool and bedrooms that just … weren’t. The realtor looked at me when we were alone in the kitchen, smiled and said, “there’s nothing to be done here, but blow it up and start again.” I nearly busted a gut. Our realtor is normally very stoic and says very little. But the man was right.
Anyway, we found some beautiful neighborhoods with houses that needed renovating and some beautiful houses we could move into in places we’d rather not live. I’m not sure what we’re going to do at this moment. All I know is now that I’ve returned home, there are boxes begging to be packed. I have two weeks left to get it all done. One foot in front of the other …
On the writing front I have to admit I didn’t get anything more than blog posts and a couple of guest posts written. My current WIP is just a couple of scenes away from being finished. I just need to buckle down and pound out the words and find my Happy-Ever-After for my lovers. I’d like to finish it before I move at the end of the month. Goal stated.
I enjoyed this book right from the start. Claire is a strong woman who can stand on her own. Yet as a submissive she decides to give up control to her Master. Whether he is Master or just plain Jonathon he is a wonderful man who will do anything for love, including keeping a secret from Claire and hoping that, when he reveals it, his heart is not torn out. Watching the two together makes for one hot read. Claire blossoms as a submissive and the love that grows between the two is wonderful…it includes some scenes that were very intense and very hot! I enjoyed this book so much and was happy to see the love and trust between the characters. Nina Pierce does a wonderful job of pulling the reader in and keeping you glued to the pages. I will definitely be on the look out for more of this author’s books in the future.
I’ll end today with an excerpt from “Maid for Master:
Jonathon dropped the cell phone into the oak drawer of his desk, grateful for the interruption. He’d been sitting in his office below Paradise Cove’s main club for the last hour trying to figure out how to handle Claire. No—not handle—men had been doing that her entire life. The woman needed someone who loved and respected all sides of her—the devoted mother, the caring daughter, the submissive lover as well as the corporate executive with an advanced business degree.
He could be that man—wanted to be that man.
Guilt and fear knotted cold in his gut. He’d come close to confessing everything this morning at breakfast. Seeing the gold band winding delicately around her biceps had sent his heart into overdrive. He wasn’t sure how Claire would react when she woke this morning in one of the staff lounges and found he wasn’t there. He had feared she’d feel abandoned once again and throw it all away. Thank God she hadn’t.
He’d tried to steer her toward the idea of the two of them together, but even his heartfelt confession of love hadn’t been enough to open her eyes to the possibility that there could actually be something between them. The disappointment had wrapped tight around his heart and he’d grabbed her computer, looking for a diversion.
Jon had fully expected to see that Claire had been pining over her ex-fiancé, which she’d done. But a few clicks of her internet history had brought up the XTC Resort website and its staff photos. His heart had skipped several beats knowing she’d been surfing their website. Of course he had no way of knowing exactly what she was trying to find, but he’d hoped she’d been looking for him. Well, not him but Master Xavier, the Dom who had held her last night as she’d allowed herself to purge the anxiety and discontent blinding her heart.
Jon understood how little she valued herself. Knew she believed she didn’t deserve to find a fulfilling relationship. Claire’s life had been nothing but one compromise after another.
Well, he planned to change all of that.
Today I’d like to welcome erotic romance author TRACEY H. KITTS. Take it away Tracey…
I don’t write smut, I really don’t. I’ve read smut before and my stuff doesn’t come close. To me, smut is the stuff you find in dirty magazines. You know, no story just hard-core, often not even sexy, sex. I write erotic romance. There is a difference.
Being in the publishing industry, or any business, you have to have a tough hide as the expression goes. And I do. It is difficult to offend me either personally or professionally. Though I would rather you insult me as an individual than insult my work with no good reason. People being uptight and afraid of the subject of sex is not a good reason.
I can tell the difference in someone meaning “smut” as a joke or as a serious remark too. One of my friends recently called me a “smut writer” and I laughed and went on about my day. He wasn’t trying to insult me. I know other writers who take the term in stride and say, “Heck, yeah, I write smut.” I just can’t do that. I grew up in the South and “smut” and “trash” are still bad words here.
I wouldn’t classify my writing as straight erotica either. So, I thought just for the sake of discussion, (and probably hilarity) I would break down what I think common terms referring to romance novels mean.
“Smut” to me is just filth. It’s the stuff where they use offensive words to refer to female parts and the men in the stories are jerks. “Trash” is about the same, give or take a few jerks. “Erotica” is tasteful, graphically described sex. The plot in these stories is often sexual in its very nature, making the story more about sex than other romance. I do, however, put most erotica still in the category of romance. Unless it’s meant to be straight up kink. Which brings me to “kink.” This is fetish sex, graphically described. If done well it can be erotica. If done poorly, it’s trash.
Finally, we come to the term I believe best describes my work. (Of course it’s paranormal romance, but I’m talking about in broad terms.) “Erotic romance.” These stories also have graphically described sex scenes. But you know what else they have that sets them apart? Feelings. In order for there to be romance, both the characters and the readers need to feel something. (Besides arousal) Generally, there is also a great deal of plot and character development. The main focus remains on the growing relationship of the main characters, but doesn’t forget there is more to the story than sex. There’s also more to writing any kind of romance than writing the sex scenes. Anyone who thinks differently has never read a romance novel. It’s easy to turn up their noses at things they have no knowledge of.
One of my latest books, Till the break of Dawn, has the longest love scene I’ve ever written. It’s sixteen pages long. I call it a love scene rather than a sex scene, because there’s much more to it than just the sex. This moment has been building since the beginning of the story, and like most romance novels, it’s been building to more than just the characters taking off their clothes. There are emotional issues that must be addressed.
So, to sum everything up: When someone throws aside all the work I’ve put into developing the characters and the story line and just because there’s sex in it calls my work “smut,” it chaps my ass.
Okay, who wants this soap box?
Please enjoy this EXCERPT from Til the Break of Dawn:
“Are you sure you want to be here?”
I stepped into the room and dropped my purse beside the door, closing it behind me with my foot.
“I’ve never wanted to be anywhere more.”
He leaned forward slowly, then faster than I could imagine he had me pressed back against the door. He lifted me with both the force of his body and the passion in his kiss. As I rose higher, whether by his vampire powers or those of his body, I did not know, I wrapped myself around him.
Whatever it was that Marcus did for me I didn’t want to lose it. I didn’t want to walk away from him and never feel again what I felt tonight. No one had ever touched me the way he did, and it had nothing to do with my body.
His hands slid beneath my shirt and I arched against him. I hungered for the feel of his skin against mine. My need for him was so sharp that it could easily have been considered pain. It was then that I glanced over his shoulder and noticed the drawings. Pictures of me. They were everywhere.
Marcus paused, sensing my distraction. He looked behind him.
“I’ve missed you,” he said softly.
He lowered me to the floor and I walked over to the bed. For several moments I was speechless. How could he possibly have gotten these? We didn’t use a camera that night. But as I drew closer I understood. They were drawings. Images of me lay spread out before him as my body once did.
“They’re beautiful,” I whispered.
I reached to touch one and felt him move closer against my back.
“This is how I remember you.”
My eyes stung with unshed tears. “I never looked like that.”
Marcus tilted my face up toward him. “You look like that now. That same look in your eyes. It took me years to get it right.”
He was killing me. Had I really left him? Why was it again I chose to stop seeing him? Looking into his pale green eyes, I couldn’t for the life of me remember.
“And what look is that?”
I knew he was going to kiss me again and felt my lips parting in anticipation as I rose on tiptoe to meet him. Despite the heels on my sandals, I still needed the extra lift. I expected him to say “desire” or “passion” or even “lust,” anything but …
The word was whispered against my lips as I fell into his arms. His soft, gentle kisses were an answer to so many unspoken prayers. He deepened the kiss, taking my mouth as he once had my body: completely. I opened my mouth and all of my being to him. If Marcus had asked for my soul in that moment, I would have given it.
He moved the pictures aside with one scoop of his hand and deposited them on the nightstand. When Marcus turned back to me my breath caught. Since he was so tall, he always bent slightly forward when he was around most people. The only time I ever saw him rise to his full height was inside the ring. As he looked down at me now, his hair fell forward framing his face and his pale eyes seemed to come alive in the semi-darkness of the room.
The fire that burned behind his eyes might burn me, but I no longer cared.
“Your eyes are glowing.”
There were two lamps in the room and he reached for the one that wasn’t lit.
“Do you want more light?”
“No,” I said, putting my hand over his. “I like it.”
I’m on the 5th day of my 9 day blog tour. Still chatting about Maid for Master. But today’s post also includes my feelings about this crazy profession of writing. Stop on over at Julia’s blog today and share some comment love with me. I don’t want to get lonely.
Pssst … don’t tell my muse that I mentioned she was fickle … we’ve been having a really productive week.
Well an interesting thing happened during my New Year’s celebration this year. (Yes, it’s true I had a birthday and no, I’m not going to tell you how many candles were on the cake. 😉 ) There were lots of munchies and a glass of champagne or two or three or a bottle, and more than a few games of cards, but I’m not talking about any of that. I was surprised when somewhere around 4 am (yep, I was still up then) one of my extended family members started talking about my books.
Now, I’ll admit, it gets a little foggy as to how the conversation actually began. I remember feeling pretty smug that the attention was on me and my writing. But pride quickly turned to surprise. I can tell you, I had no idea the whole discussion would wind down a very precarious path. Well, not for me or Mr. Nina, but for a couple of people still hanging around the cribbage board.
You see, I was asked how I managed to reconcile what I write with the Big Guy Upstairs. Whoa. What??? (Hear the needle scrape across the record.) I’ve been asked a lot of things about writing erotica, but this was the first time someone wondered how I could write porn and exploit women and not feel like I’d thrown all my morals out the window.
Now, I LOVE a good debate. (Mr. NIna calls them arguments, but I prefer the term “heated discussion”. And I’m very good at them.) You see, I grew up in a family where not only were we encouraged to express an opposing opinion we were expected to debate our feelings on it. So I mentally rubbed my hands together and jumped into the fray with both feet. Both my writing and my faith are part of me. I don’t feel a need to defend either one. But educating? Ah, that’s where I went with this. It was the whole EROTIC ROMANCE vs. PORN discussion we smut peddlers seem to fall into every now and again. (Like every time my mother-in-law visits, but this isn’t about her … really.)
So I patiently explained why I write romance with the door open and not Hustler Forum letters. But then it got into the multiple partner situation and how wrong it is to encourage infidelity. Well no, it just so happens every one of my stories ends with a “Happy Ever After” and a commitment from all parties. Relationships are consensual regardless of the number of partners. And it’s about the fantasy of the story. Even Mr. Nina jumped into the discussion at this point. (I think mostly because he reaps the rewards of a long day of me writing erotic romance stories … if you follow me. 😉 ) Interestingly this person (who is my age) could not see any of it. He held fast to the notion that it was all porn and fantasies only lead to affairs. Huh. Not my experience, but okay.
After an hour or so we weren’t circling anything but the same points … so of course there was no resolution. I wasn’t going to feel guilty and he wasn’t going to change his mind. Though I am hoping he has a better understanding of how I feel about my writing and my stories. I figure a little education never hurt anyone even if it happens close to sunrise after more than a few beers. Nothing like a little alcohol to help someone truly express how embarassed they are by what I write. LOL!
So now I throw it out to you. Have you ever had to defend your reading/writing habits? Is there a moral disconnect between erotic romance and your faith? Cuz you know me … I’m dying of curiousity here.