Pushing the Envelope

Seems these days more and more authors are pushing the envelope and in some ways that might not neccesarily be a good thing. Already erotica or 'romantica' authors fight the comparisons between what we write and porn. It's a very fine line we walk to begin with. Most of us know the differences between the two. Porn is sex without any kind of story, emotion, character developement, etc. We writers of erotic romance show in our work how through the sexual journey emotions are heighted, self-awareness is gained and how this journal can lead to love and the promise of a happy ever after.

Readers of our work know there are many subgenres such as menage and bdsm. They are popular with folks who like a spicy tale, aren't they?  Lately I've noticed lots of authors pushing the envelope and the word on the street is that many smalls pubs are encouraging their writers to put out more and more menages and adding more and men with one woman into the mix. Do we really want to see our heroine, the woman we are rooting for, having sex with a half a dozen men or more? Really? Pushing the envelope. But how far can that envelope be pushed without crossing the line into something that can clearly be labeled as porn? Tough subject I know, but I've certainly been wondering about it lately. Now maybe it's my old-fashioned southern upbringing kicking in but when I began writing erotic romance there were a number of self-imposed rules that stuck firmly in my brain."Stranger sex' is a personal taboo with me and I never do it unless my characters are built into a mythological/paranormal world where there is an undeniable connection that is not only sexual but emotional and psychic. My straight contemporary stories usually involve one man/one woman and though they feel free to experiment sexually they stick with each other for that.

Over the past week or so I've read scenes that involve multiple partners (all of whom are strangers to the heroine) and it makes me wonder if there isn't a little bit of "line crossing" going on. How does the heroine build any kind of emotional bond with these multitudes of brawny fellas? Fact is, she probably doesn't. So does this kind of story cross the line into porn? And does the fact she eventually 'gets with' the hero absolve the heroine and make her seem less of a loose-knickers sort of person? I'd be interested to hear what ya'll think? And if you are a reader of erotic romance, does this behavior by the heroine turn you off or make you hungry to buy more? Inquiring minds want know.

In other news: I have a release TOMORROW. Return of the Daredevil, a sequel to Return to Delight (Ellora's Cave) tells the story of T Dobbs and Melanie Honeycutt. T is the youngest of the Dobbs' brothers and has been off doing his thing as a stunt man but the small town of Delight, Texas and the lure of one sexy little lady proves irresistable to a man who longs to get 'back to his roots".

Even MORE news:
My hot paranormal/shifter menage Tinderbox was accepted by Jaid Black and Ellora's Cave for inclusion in the anthology Something Wicked This Way Comes. Have no idea when the books will be released (I'm included in Volume 2) but will be sure to let ya'll know as soon as dates are released. In the meantime, let me share the cover with you.

Here's a little bit about Return of the Daredevil! Hope you like it.

Scrumptious scoundrel. Daredevil T Dobbs, the sexiest cowboy to ever walk the streets of Delight, Texas, headed out of town, taking Melanie Honeycutt’s heart with him. But now he’s back and hotter than ever. Trust him? Her head says no but her body has other ideas.



Stubborn woman. She was the girl T never forgot and the woman he yearns for in the deepest part of his heart. But what’s a man to do when she doesn’t believe he’s home for good? T knows his way around dangerous curves, and Mel’s are hot enough to burn a man. He figures it’ll take a slow hand and some downright smokin’-hot sex to melt her reserve but he’s definitely up for the challenge.

An Excerpt From: RETURN OF THE DAREDEVIL

Copyright © REGINA CARLYSLE, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

She looked up and froze to see T silhouetted in the doorway of the gym.

The sun was at his back, casting him in shadows, and the entire room went still. Heavy air seemed to hover like a living thing in the gym and even the teenaged girls didn’t make a peep as he filled up the room with his presence. But even cast in shadow, it was impossible to mistake that long, lean frame or the swagger in his stride as he finally began to cross the room. T’s bootheels rapped sharply on the carefully tended hardwood. He moved like a man who did what he pleased and took what he wanted. Determination marked his every step and as he drew closer, the shadows lifted, showing Mel the glint in his storm-colored eyes. They were hungry eyes. Sexy eyes. Heavily lashed, they narrowed dangerously beneath the brim of a straw summery cowboy hat that had definitely seen better days. T’s hair beneath the battered hat was long, thick and black, brushing the tops of sturdy shoulders that she practically itched to stroke with her fingers. The hint of a five o’clock shadow covered the lower part of his sexy, masculine face. Oh boy. T for trouble. Suddenly he grinned, throwing her even further off guard as he tipped back the brim of his hat and moved in close enough to touch.

“Hey, darlin’,” he drawled. Before she could blink, T Dobbs wrapped a muscular arm around her, hauling her close, and breathed against her lips. “Damn, woman. I missed you. Kiss me hello, sweet thang.”

The world instantly melted away.

Just like that he stole every bit of good sense she’d ever possessed as his lips took hers in a savage kiss that quite simply rocked her world. There was nothing tentative in T’s mouth slowly devouring hers. His tongue cruised over her lips, tasting thoroughly before dipping deep until she could taste all the complex flavors of this man she’d always loved. If anything his kisses were even better than they’d been all those many years ago. A flash of jealousy whipped through her as she wondered about how he’d gained all this expertise but then the anger was dashed away under the seductive lash of his tongue.

She was lost. Taken under. Obliterated with just one touch.

One big hand cupped the curve of her jaw as a twitter of sound swept the room. Giggling and applause and chatter came at her as if from a distance but, truth be told, she could barely hear it over the roar of blood in her ears. Her nipples went hard against the practical cotton of her bra and she gasped at the sensation.

“Hey! Get your hands off her. What do you think you’re doing?”