Clandestine Classics: IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME!

Okay, I’m going to confess something right off the bat here. I am not, nor have I ever been, a fan of the so-called classics. Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Sherlock Holmes, etc., were never high on my list of must read recommendations for anyone. I found the books to be incredibly boring.

Why?

Probably because I’m an action junkie and probably because I like reading sex scenes. Which, of course, is why I fell in love with Kathleen Woodiwiss romances from day one and why I like thrillers.

For those of you who love the classics—good for you. Nothing wrong with liking them. Just not my cup of tea. But now we have Clandestine Classics—classics such as Jane Eyre and Sherlock Holmes with sex scenes added—and I’m pretty excited about that.

Maybe now that the novels have been modernized, I can take another look and find what I need to give me a satisfying read and at the same time appreciate what others saw all along. Now I understand that when these tales were originally written there could be no sex. Society would have beheaded the authors if they had. LOL So who’s to say those authors, had they been living today, would not have included passionate, open-door sex?

Clandestine Classics is offered to readers by Total E-Bound Publishing. Click HERE for a list of titles. Those classics are in the public domain and anyone can use them. So what Total E-Bound did was to find some ab fab authors to take a few of these books and add some very sexy word count. You might also be interested in knowing that you’re not being charged for any word count other than what the Total E-Bound authors have added.

There’s been a whole lot of hoopla over these books. Some people are outraged that the classics have been touched. I read a blog post a couple of days ago in which the blogger claimed that this generation is warping society. LOL I know a couple of the authors who are involved in Clandestine Classics. Both are lovely ladies. Desiree Holt, who took on the task of sexing up Jane Austin’s Northanger Abbey, is a veteran writer of erotic romance with over a hundred books published—and she is a SILVER BEAUTY!!! 

Sarah Masters, the author who added heat to one of Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes tales, is an amazing individual. She writes under three or four different pen names and just blows me away with her writing talent. She’s also the best cover artist around. And she’s a MOM, wife, and a beautiful woman with incredible highlights in her hair that I’ve got to talk to her about (I want them. LOL)

Neither of these authors are warped nor are they warping society. LOL If you don’t want to read the books, don’t buy them. It’s simple.

I’d also like to mention that these books didn’t happen as a result of E.L. James and Fifty Shades of Grey. I am so tired of hearing about that book I want to scream. Does everyone really think that book was the first erotic romance on the market? It certainly seems so. No one is trying to capitalize on that book’s success. HELL!!!! Everyone is just trying to make a buck just like we’ve been trying to do for years! So just to make it clear, Fifty Shades of Grey did not start some literary sexual revolution.

We’ve been doing this for years.

As a matter of fact, if it wasn’t for Ellora’s Cave, the largest publishing company of erotic romance and erotica in the world, e-books wouldn’t be such a big thing now. That’s right. I give full credit to Ellora’s Cave. Isn’t it just lovely that everyone jumped on the e-book bandwagon? Must have been all of those people reading sexed up books that did it, huh? LOL And the vast majority are women, too. SCANDALOUS!!!!

Clandestine Classics are available for you to purchase today. That’s right. It’s release day. Here’s the link: http://www.total-e-bound.com/prodtype.asp?CAT_ID=306&sb=bt&ntt=3&so=all

Now here’s a little request for Total E-Bound:

How about a little Robin Hood and Maid Marian? And I would kill for some scorching hot sex scenes between Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara---but I’m sure there are copyright issues there. SIGHHHHHHHHHHH… Guess I’ll always have to simply imagine Rhett’s sexual prowess.

Congratulations to authors:

Sarah Masters, Desiree Holt, Sierra Cartwright, Amy Armstrong, Marie Sexton. And to Total E-Bound for finding yet another way to put erotic romance on the map!  

Pen Names and Sensual Authors

Are erotic romance authors as sensual as the characters in their books? I had a reader ask me the other day if I was. After I stopped blushing, (YEP! I blush. Lol) I gave the question some real thought.

The truth is that I’m just plain not sure. How can that be? What I write is a direct product of my mind. Shouldn’t I know? All I do know for a fact is that I’ve never had any complaints from the male species. LOL At least not complaints of a “bedroom nature”.

I had a man tell me once that there was no such thing as bad sex. He said that he got off every single time and, of course, the only foreplay he required was to simply know he was about to get some. LOL Yep, he was one of those kind of men. Regardless, I liked him. He was funny.

But what has sensuality got to do with sex?

Everything and nothing.

Strictly defined, sensuality is basically engaging your senses for the purpose of enjoyment or gratification. You could feast on a bowl of juicy red strawberries and say it was a sensual experience. It’s all about what you experience through your senses.

As writers, one of the things we are supposed to do is put the reader in the scene. I like the idea of putting the reader in the shoes of my characters. So how do we do that? Well, first off we paint a picture for them. We use descriptors to let the reader “feel” their surroundings. But more importantly, we consult our characters’ senses. What are they seeing, hearing, tasting, touching, smelling…and thinking? If we let the reader in on all this then the reader can indeed walk in the shoes of our characters.

A lot of times I write about things I’ve never personally experienced. And that’s where imagination and—well, what I’d like to think of as talent—come into play. In my most recent release, Strip Down from Ellora’s Cave, I had a scene in which my two main characters watched a man and a woman have sex, and then they allowed themselves to be watched. Realistically speaking, that’s not something I’d ever do. In Scarlet Memoir, a book soon to be released from Ellora’s Cave, there is a scene with wax play. And WOW! When I read it back to myself? We’re talking hot, hot scene in more ways than one.

But am I personally, in real life, going to allow some dude—even one I’m madly in love with—to drip hot candle wax on my nips? HELL NO!!! My nips are precious, delicate. NO HOT WAX!!!

So does that make me less sensual than my characters? Nope. Just means I have a great imagination and can make a loaf of bread seem sexy as hell! Damn sure sensual. LOL Erotic romance is all about slowing down the scenery and making it real. Give the readers DETAIL. Make it last.

But let’s not confuse sensuality with different ways of doing it. It’s the way you enjoy it. How it makes you feel. How you make your partner feel that makes you sensual. So why different positions, situations, locations? Why show readers sexual scenarios that might not be the norm in their bedroom or our own? To engage the reader. Broaden their knowledge. Reinforce their fantasies—let them know we think about these things, too! We share a bit of ourselves with those who read our stories.

But just because we all share some of the same sexual fantasies it doesn’t mean we should act on them—or at least some of them. Lol Fantasy is fantasy. I sometimes fantasize I should be ruler of the world. Yep! I think I could straighten out a lot of things. LOL But should I try for that? Hell no. Gives me a headache just thinking about taking over the world. Lol Some women fantasize about something as simple as picking up a guy in a bar—sex with a stranger. Should they? Well, that happens quite a bit all over the world. Do I recommend it? No. Why? It can be dangerous. We all know that.

Let’s face it. Fantasies are just that. Fantasies. Acting on them doesn’t necessarily prove sensuality. But simply having them is very sensual. At least to me. LOL So do I advocate NEVER acting on a fantasy? Oh hell no. lol I simply say you should be careful.

To me, sex is most sensual when shared with someone you care about. Sex without emotion isn’t good—but that’s just the way I look at sex. Millions of people have sex all of the time without any emotional attachments. It’s just not for me. And that’s why I write romance.

Love is always at the center.

Now, by nature I’m a pretty reserved individual. I’ve even said on occasion that I’m kind of shy. And I’ve been laughed at for saying that, too. LOL Well, as we all know, it’s a helluva lot easier to jump online and talk trash and open up than it is in real life sometimes. No, I’m not a prude. If I were, I couldn’t write what I write. But I am a private person which is why I use a pen name. There are a few tried and true friends on the Internet that know my real name and even know what I really look like.

I’ve had requests from readers for pictures and even my mailing address. I’ve always declined to give out that information. Will I ever reveal my real name? No. Never. That’s a done deal with me. Unless I get to know someone incredibly well, that is. How about pics? As of now I still have a kid in high school. I seriously doubt I will post any public pics of myself until he’s out of school and maybe not even then. I’m not sure there is even a need. If I end up needing to do book signings? Then maybe. If I end up at a convention? Maybe. But for now? No.

I write about love and sexual fantasies. Maybe…just maybe…maintaining a little mystery for the author is just what the doctor ordered. LOL

I’ll be offline most of the day as I have some business appointments. I’ll check in later and see what everyone thinks of pen names and author sensuality. In the meantime, I hope everyone is happily reading, writing, and editing. Until later…

Am I Rusty?





I guess so. Well…maybe. LOL

My brother wanted to take one of the dogs for a walk on the beach. I hadn’t been out in a few days and decided it would be a good idea. But the fact is, my ankle hasn’t healed enough for long walks on the beach. So I told him I’d have a cup of coffee on the patio of the restaurant where we have beach access and read while he walked the dog.

Bro frowned, thought I was being lazy—and I wasn’t being lazy, lol. Just didn’t want to walk too far then have to walk back in pain! Walking in sand is not easy on my ankle at all.

Anyway, we walked the two blocks to the beach, and he took the dog down to the shore. I headed for the patio overlooking the ocean. I ordered my coffee with cream, opened my book, and settled in for a nice relaxing hour or so.

After a while, I caught a shadow out of the corner of my eye. There were other people on the patio, of course. Conversation and laughter was all around me. I looked up, curious about the shadow, and saw a man to the right of my table leaning against the deck railing—not looking at the ocean, but at me.

I KNOW what you’re thinking. Yep, I do.

You’re thinking: OH! THIS IS GETTING GOOD! TESS IS ABOUT TO MEET A MAN!!

And to that all I can say is, “Don’t put your money on TESS!” I’m rusty. Remember?

I smiled. He smiled. I went back to reading. Yep, I did. So he says, “Nice morning, isn’t it?” I looked up at him, nodded, “Yes. Very nice. Perfect weather.” I went back to reading my book.

I KNOW!!!!! You’re shaking your head. LOL But I’m rusty, remember?

At this point, the hero in my book is meeting with the leaders of an Afghan tribe and the story is getting pretty dicey. The Taliban is everywhere, and I just know that the smart ass young kid is running to them right now to tell them my hero is there.

“We’ll have a few days of cold weather here and there, but it’s usually pretty tolerable. One of the reasons I moved here. Are you on vacation?”

The damn Taliban is about to get the jump on my man and this dude wants to talk weather. Sighhhhhhhhhh… I looked up. “I moved here in September. Guess I’m a local now.” I laughed lightly and lowered my head to find my place on the page.

“Must be a good book,” he said.

“It is.”

“Romance novel?”

I turned the book around and showed him the cover. The Apostle by Brad Thor. CIA type thriller. Not a romantic word on any page. LOL

He nodded and pushed himself off the deck railing. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

Quickly I said, “Oh you’re not bothering me.” Well, actually he was bothering me but a Southern gal just can’t be rude and say that. Ya know?

He smiled and walked away.

I KNOW!!!! You’re banging your head against the computer screen. So I read a bit more, and then my bro gives me a shout, and he and the dog come onto the patio. He ordered a coffee and told me to put the book down. I did. By the way, the Taliban didn’t get my man. LOL

So bro says, “Did I see you talking to someone?”

“Some man was talking about the nice weather.”

“And?”

“And what? The weather is nice.”

“That’s all?”

“He wanted to know if I was reading a romance novel. Asked if it was a good book. Then he left.”

Bro says, “You’re hopeless.”

“Huh?”

“The man was trying to engage you in conversation for more.”

I said, “More what? There’s only so much you can say about the damn weather.”

“Don’t act stupid, Tess. You know what I mean.”

“You’re trying to make a short, polite conversation about the weather into something it wasn’t.”

“And you’d rather write romance than live it.”

“Oh my GOD!!! A man exchanges a few words with me and you think I should spread my legs!”

“Well…why not?”

The walk back to the house was an absolute blur. I was livid. Bro came strolling in about ten minutes behind me. And the argument continued. No. Not gonna bore you with all of bro’s thoughts on my life and all of my thoughts on his life. HE’S NOT EXACTLY A DAMN CASSANOVA these days himself!!!!

But I have to admit. It does bug me that I didn’t recognize that the man probably was trying to “meet” me for more than talk about the weather. So would I rather write romance than live it? No. I just know that writing it always turns out better than actually living it---at least where I’m concerned.

Do I intend to remain alone until the Grim Reaper takes me? Well…if I don’t learn to recognize the signs a bit better that might just happen. LOL Do ya’ll think I need to get laid? Tell the truth. LOL

Hugs and Kisses…

JUST TESS

Did You Hear Me Scream?

My computer would not power up. I flipped out and went just a little bit crazy. And I didn’t do it quietly either. My kids gathered around me, worrying over what would happen next. The oldest asked if I was all right. The boy asked if it meant no dinner.

No I wasn’t all right. And yes it meant NO dinner. Who the hell wants to cook when the computer  dies? I was in mourning. I went to bed. I didn’t have a black nightie so I mourned in pink.

Oh the thoughts running through my head. Would I be able to retrieve all of my stuff? Was I going to have to buy a new computer? Was it going to cost me as much to fix this one as buying a new one? AND? How was I going to deal without email and Facebook?

Worse than that… how was I going to tell the world I was OFFLINE?

As luck would have it, the laptop had been sent off just the week before with the promise of a three-week turn around. I don’t have Internet on my phone. Only the oldest does. So after a couple of days of just stressing, chewing my nails, staring at the monitor, I broke down and emailed my friend EM and told

her what happened and to tell everyone. I was also able to get in touch with Regina, too.But I do apologize for missing my last two Monday blogs.

How do people deal with emailing from their phone? It’s all so tiny. Not for me. Anyway, I got the comp into the shop on Friday. Dude said it would be Tuesday before he could look at it because he had several ahead of me. Okay. I couldn’t argue, could I? Tuesday comes along and no word. I called on Wednesday to be told the part had been ordered and should be in by Thursday or Friday. Okay. Progress, right?

I called on Friday to get a recorded message that the DUDE would be closed for the holiday. Gone Friday, Saturday, Sunday, AND Monday! Jerk never told me about that. Oh well, nothing I could do about it. I actually tried writing longhand. No. Not something I can do anymore. So not happening. I spent my time painting the boy’s room and cleaning out closets.

Three different times I found myself sitting at my desk with a meal. Yep, sat down with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There were things I kept wanting to do and would race to my office only to remember that my comp was GONE! I missed all of the birthday wishes on FB.

My mind was idle. Truly idle. There are only so many movies a person can watch. Ya know? I discovered a couple of things about myself through all of this. I don’t just count on my comp for writing and communication purposes. I rely on the Internet for news and weather and just information in general. TV, newspapers, and radio just don’t cut it for me anymore. None of those mediums can come close to what I can find on the Internet.

I also discovered I’m not quite as addicted to email as I thought I was. After the first three days, I sort of calmed down and realized that it would all be there when I got back online. I did continue to feel very anxious about not getting any work done, however.

Strip Down from Ellora’s Cave released on Friday. So I really had done nothing in the way of pushing it. Something I like to do two weeks before each release. Since I’ve been back online, I’ve done as much of that as possible, but I feel as though I’ve missed a window of opportunity. Sighhhh

I don’t do a lot of promo when I blog, but today I’m going to do just that. CAN YOU TAKE THE HEAT? If you think you can, run on over to Ellora’s Cave and get yourself a copy of Strip Down. Be careful—it burns!!!! 

http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9440-strip-down.aspx

BLURB:  What’s a topless dancer to do when a cop tells her to “spread ’em”? Cooperate, of course. Which is exactly what Jazzmyn Monroe does when her big-city dreams land her in a world of trouble and the arms of sexy detective Ryder Muldoon. Jazzmyn is no angel, but she doesn’t expect the rip-roaring, passion-filled rollercoaster ride given by one of L.A.’s finest.

An honest cop with a target painted on his back, Ryder is forced to go rogue if he wants to stay alive, and the hottest woman he’s ever laid eyes on is the key to his plan. It’s supposed to be just business with a side of sex. If only it were that simple. Jazzmyn’s sinful curves and aptitude for red-hot loving ramp up his libido…and a whole lot more.

EXCERPT:  Copyright © TESS MACKALL, 2011

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

Rivers of blue smoke layered the air. The hoots and hollers of drunken men drilled through the savage strains of heavy metal music and surged within her body. Glass shattered and two rabid men faced off, the broken beer bottle each held nothing more than an extension of their cocks. Unfazed by the nightly display of testosterone-fueled, alcohol-induced rage, Jazzmyn turned her back to the scene and concentrated on working the runway patrons to her advantage.

“Grind it, baby, grind it!” shouted a man sitting a couple of feet away.

To reward the enthusiastic customer, she looked directly at him and smiled. Yeah, he’s good for a ten-spot at least. She pitched her hips in his direction then slowly rolled them back and forth. He lunged for her and she stepped out of reach.

Not so fast. Show me da money.

He held up a dollar bill, but the man next to him waved a twenty. We’re talkin’ my language now. She sucked on her finger, swaying her hips from side to side, and stared at the dark-haired Mr. Twenty. God, what a hunk. A little too clean-cut for this place. She figured he’d gotten lost from the rest of the convention pack he probably traveled with. For a moment she wondered what it would be like to wake up with someone like him every morning. Someone who didn’t belong here—the place where she did belong. Gesturing her closer with the crisp green bill, he never cracked a smile. Cool, not too excitable. Well, she’d just see about that. They all had a chink in their armor somewhere. It was simply a matter of pushing the right button.

Jazzmyn bent over and let her bare breasts dangle just above the money. He folded the bill lengthwise, making it good and stiff, and brushed it across her nipples. Oh shit. This guy knows what he’s doing. Lust swelled low in her belly and her cunt became moist. He had nice eyes. Dark blue. Eyes a woman could get lost in if she didn’t know any better.

And Jazzmyn knew one hell of a lot better.

A path of searing heat followed the double sawbuck on its journey down her torso to the tiny G-string that covered her clean-shaven pussy. His gaze locked with hers. She whipped upward and thrust her cunt at his face. He never even flinched, but it got her the twenty. His hot fingers lingered on her flesh as he tucked the green inside the string wrapped around her hips. Damn, he’d wound her up. Those deep-set eyes, intense and forbidden, stared up at her.

Wiggling her way to the pole at the center of the stage, she pressed her barely covered wet pussy to the cold metal and slid her slickened folds up and down the smooth steel. It was the special part of her little show. She dared a glance at the man. He shook his head and beckoned with a fifty.

Fuck! She often pretended to get off on stage, but this man didn’t seem to want that. What’s up with him? Her fake orgasm act on the pole usually netted her a hundred bucks in appreciative tips. It wasn’t as if she’d allow any of them to do the job. So why stop her? Then again, maybe she would let this one. He wasn’t the average asshole, was he?

What was she thinking? He was an asshole, all right, or he wouldn’t be here, would he? He’d be at home with his wife and kids. If she were his wife, she’d make sure he stayed at home. No chance of anything like that happening for her though.

Maybe he thought seventy bucks earned him the right to say when. Okay. She’d play along. Back to the man. Back to the money. Angling her knees outward, she squatted in front of him. Almost eye level, she stared him down. Make your move, honey.

His tongue snaked from his lips as he glanced down at her silk-covered cunt and back up at her eyes. Ohhhh, he wants to touch the pussy. I might look like an easy piece dancing around up here, showing my ass to keep a roof over my head, but it’ll take more than a fifty to get what you want, slick. Jazzmyn shook her head and rocked her hips forward. He nodded his understanding.

Stowing the fifty in his wallet, he withdrew a hundred and raised an eyebrow. She shook her head again. He coupled the hundred with another. His blue eyes darkened and narrowed somewhat, which she took to mean he’d reached his limit.

She grabbed the money and held it between her teeth as she flattened her hands on the floor behind her and heaved her hips into the air. The man dipped his head to her cunt. Only seconds remained before the bouncers would tear him away.

Then all hell broke loose and cops flooded the joint!

The man jumped from his chair and pulled her from the runway. Jazzmyn slapped at him but he tossed her over his shoulder and ran toward the rear of the club. Heart racing, blood rushing to her head, she looked up from her position on the guy’s back and saw the waitresses and customers being herded up against the walls and handcuffed. Why the hell were the cops raiding the club? She thought about screaming for help, but who the hell could—or would help her? The cops would take her to jail just like the rest of them. Her best chance was to hang on tight and hope the man carrying her knew what he was doing and that he wasn’t some sort of crazed serial killer.

Jazzmyn recognized the sound of the club’s metal door as her temporary savior shoved it open and rushed out into the alley where the heated air of the L.A. night met them. Mr. Good-Looking turned left toward the alley, which swung her dangling body to the right. The two hundred dollars she’d held crushed in her hand fell to the pavement with the jostling movement. Shit. She lifted her head once more, seeing the crumpled money skittering away on a breeze and slowly receding from sight. She watched in awe as police lights strobed and reflected off the large plate-glass windows in the few storefronts she could see.

The deeper the man ran into the alley, the darker it became—eventually growing lighter again as they reached the other end, where he set her down next to a car. What now? Would he let her go? Fear drummed inside her and dizziness from hanging upside down over his body overwhelmed her, buckling her knees. The strange man held on to her and she slumped against his massive chest. His strong heart thumped loudly in her ear—such a surprisingly soothing sound.

With the dizziness gone, she pushed off his arms. Damn, the guy must have spent hours in the gym. She looked up at his face to find him staring down at her. Shining bright with the glow of neon lights, his eyes stunned her. Definitely not your ordinary asshole.

He moved his face closer and her gaze strayed to his lips. She wondered how they would feel on hers. Mere seconds ticked by and their mouths came together. She breathed in his scent, so virile and spicy. His mouth tasted of whiskey, his tongue soft and warm twining with hers. And she was all but naked, just a tiny scrap of fabric separating them. Since when did she feel self-conscious about her state of undress? For that matter, when the hell had she started kissing customers?

His hands moved down her back and lower to cup her bare ass cheeks. Spasms of pleasure flared in her cunt. Her juices trickled. Sex in an alley with a man she didn’t know—dangerous, forbidden. What she was doing finally registered and she broke the kiss.

Her heart stuttered. It was one thing to perform on stage for money, maybe to cross the line and let a guy cop a feel for a little extra, but sex in a dark alley with a perfect stranger wasn’t something she’d bargained for. Why the hell had she ever left Georgia? In the last five years she’d bounced from one shithole to the next, one asshole to another. Searching for what? Love? Yeah, at first. Now she just wanted out, but there was no one or nothing to go back to. Not a single inviting rainbow on her horizon. She was stuck.

“I’m a dancer, mister. That’s all I do.” The words came out in a rush of air.

His hypnotic gaze bored into her. He brought his hand to her cheek and let his thumb brush her lips. Holy shit. What is he? Some kind of sexual Svengali? Rising and falling with his steady breathing, his chest grazed her naked breasts. She shuddered and he dropped his hand to cover one of the aroused peaks, fingers flicking the nipple. An almost torturous desire streamed through her.

“Oh, I think you can do a lot more than dance,” he said.

Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves, but Jazzmyn had always kept hers in her shoe so she could step on it herself. And this man’s lay-me-down-in-the-shade-and-fuck-me-honey voice had just nailed her to the pavement. Her body—and if given the chance, her heart—were going to roll over and play dead. Well, not dead. Done deal. She was as good as his.

“Ther-there’s a policy against fraternizing with customers.”

“We could be the exception to the rule,” he said.

That voice stalked her, moving in like a summer storm, and there was no place for her to run even if she could. It had been a long time since she’d actually wanted a man—lusted for one—and she sure as hell lusted for this one. Every once in a while those silly little-girl dreams of happily ever after popped into her head without warning.

This was one of those times.

Pinocchio Syndrome

I’ve been around e-publishing for a few years now either learning the craft, soaking it all up like a sponge, writing or editing, and usually all three. I’ve seen authors come and go. Seen genres suddenly become bestsellers while others lose their appeal just to rise again. I’ve seen author meltdowns and publisher meltdowns alike. And I’ve been involved in publisher shutdowns.

In other words, I’m not green anymore. I lost my publishing cherry long ago. And I’ve decided to get a few things off my chest today.

When I first decided to write, I sat down at my computer and researched for a while before I jumped in. I discovered erotic romance and decided that was the best way for me to go. E-publishing was something I’d never heard of but it just felt right. I could see a future in publishing online. I was right. LOL

But it’s like my daddy was always fond of saying: “No matter where ya go, there’s always an asshole there to greet ya!” And Daddy was so damn right!

One of the first issues I encountered in Romancelandia was the incredible amount of prejudice against erotic romance authors. Just a few years ago it was rampant. It’s still there, but it’s one of those things that is less talked about now. Have you ever been chatting with an author on a group or forum, just having a conversation about romance writing in general, and then that author finds out you write erotic romance? Happened to me a few times. It was as if I no longer existed. Thanks to the antiquated ideas of RWA—yep, I blame RWA mostly—erotic romance authors were not REAL authors. Why RWA? Well, until erotic romance put e-publishing on the map and showed the publishing world a different way of doing things—a different way of making money—RWA was the DO ALL-KNOW ALL-END OF ALL where romance writing was concerned. You needed the RWA stamp of approval to be a REAL AUTHOR.

Some authors still want that. And that’s fine. Everyone must follow their own career path. But don’t…hear me…don’t look down on others who have chosen a different path. Just sayin’. 

Another thing that I’ve run into along the way has been the idea that e-books aren’t real, and therefore the author isn’t a REAL AUTHOR. Can you hear me groaning? I just poured a shot of whiskey in my coffee. Yeah, I did. Hemmingway did it. So can I. Ooops! He was a REAL AUTHOR. Hmmm…well, maybe the whiskey will make me a REAL AUTHOR, too! LOL At least I’ll feel better—as long as I don’t do more than a couple of shots, that is. LOL Yeah, it’s morning, but it’s MONDAY morning. Besides I didn’t sleep well last night. And if it makes you feel any better, I just added a little whipped cream to the top. Now it’s a breakfast drink! Yeah, that’s it!

Anyway…back to my rant. So I’ve had two strikes against me since the beginning. I write sexy stuff and I’m e-published only. Now hear this: I am happy in e-publishing. I do not spend my time salivating over the BIG SIX nor do I spend my time querying agents. And btw, that whole agent thing is another issue. There are authors who believe you’ve got to have one or you’re not a REAL AUTHOR. And if you want to be pubbed with the BIG SIX, I guess you do need one because they won’t look at your manuscript unless you do. At least for now. I figure agents are going to have to go through a little reinvention in the not so distant future in order to hang on to their businesses. With no need for an agent in e-publishing and the way self-publishing seems to be taking off, authors aren’t quite as inclined to give someone fifteen percent to open the same doors they can open all on their own. However, I do think that if you’re with the BIG SIX or aiming for them and don’t have an agent that you need one to handle negotiations and contracts—and of course, to get you in the door. Never do anything you aren’t qualified to do.

So what’s next? Glad you asked. LOL If you don’t have books out in print, you’re not a REAL AUTHOR. Okkkkaaaaayyyyyy…now this is when I bring out the whips and chains. And I’m not bringing them out for pleasurable purposes either. What a crock of… Does anyone here really believe that an author’s words are less enjoyable because a reader is not holding the book in their hand? Sure I like print books. But I don’t think a print book is better in any way just because it’s something I can hold. And now that all of the big authors are out in e books and we have all of these amazing e readers…wtf? Yet I’ll still see an author somewhere posting about their book finally being in print as if they have suddenly been made a REAL AUTHOR. Pinocchio Syndrome. All Pinocchio ever needed to be real was love and all an author needs to be real is a love of writing. Get it???? So anyone out there who thinks less of their author abilities because you’re not in print—well, STOP IT! Don’t buy into that. It’s NOT true.

And here’s another one that really burns my butter. You’re not a REAL AUTHOR unless you write longer works. HUH? My hair is officially singed from that one. Regina touched on that last week in her post entitled Is a novella a REAL Book? You bet it is and you can find that post here: http://threewickedwriters.blogspot.com/2011/06/when-you-head-into-bookstore-or-online.html  My friend Emmy Ellis, aka Natalie Dae and Sarah Masters, posted about this on Facebook a few days ago, too.

Novella writing isn’t for everyone. And I doubt most of us even give it a thought. But lots of authors talk about how writing shorter works just isn’t the same as writing a full-blown novel. Oh PUHLEEEZE! I write longer works AND shorter works. Writing short is a helluva lot harder than long. To write something short that is completely satisfying, an author has to pack a big punch with every word, sentence. The writing must be tight but at the same time leave NO stone unturned. I dare say that writing short takes a lot more skill than writing long. And I can say that because I do both. I read novellas, short stories, and novels. I’m afraid that a lot of novels are padded with unnecessary stuff. Yeah, they are. Have you ever found yourself reading a novel and skimming or paging ahead? I do that a lot. Another thing is that novellas and shorts are becoming increasingly popular. Busy lifestyles require a satisfying read that won’t steal an entire afternoon or evening. Novellas and short stories are here to stay. So for those of you who think you aren’t a REAL AUTHOR because you haven’t written an 80K novel yet???? STOP THAT!

Now for a little mood lightening. LOL Just got word last night that my contemporary novel, Strip Down, will release from Ellora’s Cave on July 8. Check out the coming soon page and read the blurb and excerpt. Trust me…this one is hot hot hot! http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9440-strip-down.aspx

Once again I have no author book trailer to showcase. No one is sending me any. Hmmm…free promo????? I don’t charge. LOL Would love to see a few come my way. Just send to teasyone@hotmail.com

http://tessmackall.com

Restraining the Receptionist by Juniper Bell

NOTE:  Juniper's post was scheduled for yesterday, Saturday, June 11. However, through a blogger glitch--don't we just love those? LOL--it did not post, and therefore has been posted today. And oddly enough is showing the date as yesterday. Beats me! I'm just glad she's here and her new book looks smokin' hawt!!!!

I’m going through first-time jitters all over again. Trembling with nerves, torn between desire and shyness. Wondering if I’ll measure up…if it will hurt…if this will be my first and my last time…

See, while I’m no longer a virgin in most respects, I am when it comes to sequels. Restraining the Receptionist, out June 14, is my first. It’s a follow-up to my book, Training the Receptionist. I never particularly intended to write a sequel. But I actually got requests for one, which blew my mind to the point that I couldn’t … well, restrain myself.

I quickly discovered that writing a sequel is really weird. It’s like picking up dolls you abandoned in the toy box. Your characters are still piled there in the same position you left them, waiting for you to decide what to do with them. Last time I saw Dana, Ethan and Simon, a receptionist and her two sexy bosses, they’d finished a hot three-way and had made a deal to continue working/playing together.

Did they have any more stories left in them? Would their voices come back to me, particularly Dana’s, my first person narrator? Would the new story please the readers who had enjoyed the first one? Or (nooooo!!) would it disappoint them? These are questions I never worried about before. But with a sequel, they seem to go with the territory.

The good news is, Dana reappeared without missing a beat. And another character immediately grabbed my attention. Most of Training the Receptionist involved Simon’s relationship with Dana. Ethan was a shadowy figure who only appeared at the end. This time, he took center stage right away. He’s a very strong, very dominant character with some demons in his past. Dana has her hands full with him.

The story that unfurled surprised me, as they always do. The surprise here was how Ethan challenged Dana to discover even more about herself—about her spirit of adventure, and her capacity for trust and surrender. As I wrote, the enigmatic Ethan emerged from the shadows and revealed some of his complexities.

And that turned out to be the most fun part of writing a sequel—the chance to go deeper with characters I already knew and loved.

In a few days, Restraining the Receptionist will be out of my hands and into those of whoever wants to read it. And then I’ll find out how my first time went. Whether it was painful or orgasmically awesome. I already know it was good for me. My first time was way too much fun. I’m hooked.

If I smoked, I’d need a cigarette right now.  

How are sequels for you? Do you like reading them? Writing them? What’s the best part and the worst part of a sequel? I’ll choose one commenter to receive a download of the first book, Training the Receptionist. 

BLURB:

Every deal has a loophole.

…the Receptionist, Book 2

Dana Arthur’s new job with the firm of Cowell & Dirk is going well. Translation: the occasionally kinky ménage with her two bosses, Ethan and Simon, has been several months of politically incorrect bliss.

Except the relationship feels unbalanced. While Ethan is the undisputed master, the partners’ iron-clad agreement stipulates that Simon must be present as she performs her “duties”. And she senses there’s a subtle, powerful tug-of-war developing for more than just her body.

Simon had agreed to share the firm’s fiery, sensually daring receptionist…to a point. With Simon out of town, Ethan plans a feast of erotic temptations designed to have Dana begging him to break the deal. He didn’t realize his heart would be a casualty.

Once she surrenders to his wicked demands, Dana realizes there’s no going back. It’s time for a three-way renegotiation…this time, all or nothing. 

Product Warnings

NSFW!! Do Not Try This at Your Job. Contains highly inappropriate workplace behavior including m/f/m, m/m, bondage, creative use of office space and a high-stakes trip to Atlantic City.

Read an excerpt here. 

Check out Juniper’s website here.

Download a Free Read in the Receptionist series here.

I Don't Have Blue Hair!

And even if I did, what difference does it make? I don’t wear support hose or have pearls wrapped around my neck either—although I do own a perfectly nice strand. I’m not a wrinkled up old prune living on dreams or in the past and I don’t need KY!

There. I said it.

Age is a number. That’s all. Does it matter to a reader how old the author is or what they look like? To that I say a resounding HELL NO. If readers wanted a visual, they’d go watch Angelina Jolie kick some butt or Jason Statham rocket off to the moon in a car, explode a package, and safely return to earth not a muscle out of place.

So you’re wondering…What’s got Tess on her soapbox? Why is she so pissed off? (Easily done.) Well, it’s like this. I’ve been so incredibly busy volunteering at school for all of the end of year stuff and dealing with my boy and eighth grade prom—shopping for tux, manicure, haircut, etc etc etc. that I’d gotten behind on my blog reading. I spotted a post about bloggers who love to make fun of, hate, the romance genre. At first I told myself NOT to click on the links and get all upset but I did it anyway. So here I am. Pissed Off City!

The first post I accessed was all about this reporter/blogger, whoever the hell she was/is, and how she’d attended the Romance Novelists’ Association meeting in Britain and found herself surrounded by blue-haired ladies wearing support hose. By the end of her post she was saying how much she liked all of the women. But hell that was too late for me. She’d basically insulted every romance writer on the planet by saying we were too old to know anything about love and sex. My friend, who is a geriatric nurse, really needs to talk to that gal about what she sees going on at the old folks home!

Well, I had to go and click on more posts and discovered that some psychiatrists are saying that reading romance novels gives women a distorted view of relationships. You know…if I were a man, I’d take great exception to that statement. She’s saying that men are pretty much pigs, jerks, and assholes and can never measure up to the romance hero. And what do I say? I say that women aren’t stupid! We know daily life—work, paying the bills, raising kids, worrying over how to fix the leaky roof—has a way of putting a damper on romance. We KNOW that the men we love are not perfect and don’t expect them to be. I’ve always been secretly in love with Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan character. Tom Clancy does NOT write romance. John Grisham doesn’t write romance. There are a lot of books I read which are NOT romance. And I love the characters just the same. But that doesn’t mean I expect the same heroic deeds from Mr. Regular Dude walking down the street, now does it? Hell NO!

I think I’m smart enough to know the difference between fantasy and reality. Hell, someone should crawl inside my mind sometime and take a gander of just what my fantasies are! Hmmm…Well…maybe not.

The blogger claims that researchers are saying that reading romance is just as addictive for women as pornography is for men. That just as men need a visual and become excited—engaged over pornography—whenever they can’t get their fix they become depressed and that romance books do the same thing to women.

It’s also being said that the reason Amazon chose to launch its new publishing venture in the romance arena was because women buy romance at the drop of a hat. That it is a cheap, mindless endeavor of some sort for us. Well, sounds like Amazon made a good business decision to me. And if those bloggers only knew how persnickety we women are about our romance books.

Basically, we’re now being called addicts by researchers. And what a sweet ‘n’ sexy addiction it is!

This week’s book trailer is from Delaney Diamond for her book Fight For Love published by Amira Press. Delaney created this video herself! Great job. Fantastic imagery and music.

Looking for Love Online

“One out of five relationships now begins online.” That’s the claim of one online dating service. Do you believe it? I do.

And I also think some of these online meet-and-greet services are a hot bed for scam artists on both sides of the gender fence and for people just looking to get laid. Now there is nothing wrong with simply wanting sex. But—if you’re looking for love on one of these sites, you need to keep in mind all of the pitfalls. One being that the person you “meet” might be only after sex. Like I said—that’s fine. Nothing wrong with that—as long as both parties know that up front, that is.

Basically, meeting someone online is no different than in real life. You’re still going to run into jerks and freaks and kiss a whole lot of frogs. LOL And then you have the extra added worry of…”is that really a pic of him?” OR “is he really a millionaire?” LOL For the purpose of this post, I’ll be considering the female POV mostly. So boys? Don’t get your tightie whities in a wad if a little man-bashing happens to go on. I still LOVE men. Lol

Personally, I haven’t tried one of these dating sites, but I know a whole lot of women who have. Sometimes their stories make my hair stand on end, too. One lady “met” this man and was talking to him right much through instant messaging and thoroughly enjoying herself. He was handsome, smart, complimented her to the point of just making her melt---and then after a couple of weeks? He lowered the boom!

He needed investors to get his new business off the ground. Uh huh. So my friend comes to me with this story and tells me that on the one hand it sounded like a good investment for her---but on the other hand---what if he’s lying and out to scam her?

HUH? WTF? “RUN!” I screamed. “Get the hell out of Dodge now. He is a liar, a con man. Please don’t give him any money.” Her reply? “You know he could just be a really nice guy and trying to cut me in on a good deal, too!”

Okay. I’d like to tell you that she finally saw the light and did actually quit talking to this dude, but I can’t. Our conversation sort of went downhill from there. lol She finally decided I was jealous of all the wonderful things that were happening to her and we have not talked since. That’s been about a year ago now. Well, I survived. I prefer my friends have a little common sense anyway. HA!

I also had a friend who became involved with a major jerk. She met him through MYSPACE. He led her to believe he had money. All he ended up being was some middle-aged guy who was still swilling down a case of beer every day, smoking pot, and living off of some woman---a woman he forgot to tell my friend about. So a word to the wise where this whole money issue is concerned. If a man talks to you about how much money he has? Well, he probably doesn’t have any. But sometimes you just get hold of a bragging asshole, too! Been there, done that. Either way, that kind of man—the one who has money and brags about it or does not have money and brags about it is NOT someone you want in your life. Period. 

Besides, if YOU are the real deal--not looking to take advantage of a man--but simply looking for Mr. Right. Someone to share your mind, body, and soul with--then you don't care about the money aspect of it, do you? Well, at least not in such a way that money is the focus. Of course, you don't want to end up with someone YOU'D have to take care of, but happiness isn't about the bucks, is it? 

I could tell you story after story about online romances gone bad. There’s the one about the dude who sent the gal a pic and it was of his nephew. LOL Damn. Didn’t he know that when they met she’d wonder why he’d lost all those muscles and all of his HAIR?!!! Plus!!! He’d shrunk about half a foot, too. LOL And then there is the one about the woman who left her kids for a man she’d met on MySpace. Yep, she did. Left her hubby and kids and moved all the way across the country for a J-E-R-K. He turned out to be an alcoholic and very abusive.

I seem to be the go-to person when these online relationships heat up, and then blow up. LOL Like I know what to tell them other than RUN! And you know what? It doesn’t make any difference what I’ve said to any of them. In every single instance, all of my “friends” chose to continue in the bad relationship/situation.

Trust comes hard to me. It really does. I’ve had guys pop up on Facebook and MySpace—even email me directly. But as soon as I find out they are NOT contacting me for the purpose of what I write—as in they like reading it—I hit delete. Oh now there was this one dude whose head I played with for about half an hour before hitting delete. Meh…I was bored. LOL I guess I’m just old-fashioned. But that has nothing to do with “meeting” someone online. Real life meet ups are too fast for me. LOL

What happened to taking it slow? Savoring the little things? Does everyone really have to lay all their cards on the table about their finances and reveal all the skeletons in their closet on a first date? AND…get naked, too? Okay okay. I write erotic romance. Yeah, I know. I should be the poster girl for SEX! Well, I’m not. LOL I write fantasy. I’ve often said: I WRITE IT. I DON’T LIVE IT.

If the miracle of love hasn’t happened to me at this point, it’s pretty much a done deal that it’s not going to happen. Know what I mean? So I don’t have any faith in dating sites. Don’t have any faith in the real life version either. Now where does that leave me?

The only way I think I could “date” again—online or off—is if I was introduced to someone first by someone I trusted. And the person who makes the introductions should really KNOW the man they are introducing me to as well. It couldn’t be just a casual acquaintance for sure. Yeah, I know. I’m picky. But shouldn’t we be picky when choosing an individual to share ourselves with?

My advice to those who are trying the online thing is this:

1.   Lead with your head, not your heart.

2.   Never disclose financial information.

3.   Read between the lines.

4.   If anything sounds off? Well, it probably is off.

5.   Ask lots of questions.

6.   Take your time. Don’t agree to meet someone two weeks after you “meet”. Patience is indeed a virtue and the right guy will wait until you are completely comfortable with him.

So how long do you wait before the actual physical meeting? Beats me. LOL But I think it would be in the four to six month range, really. It’s my understanding that online you graduate from email or messaging on social networking sites to Instant messaging/chatting. Later on you talk on the phone. But I would think it would be a gradual process for those who feel the need to play it safe, and well, keep their sanity, too! LOL

I do hope there are some commenters today who have gone through the whole online dating process and can share some good advice for those who want to try it. And hells bells, if you’ve got a great story, I’d love to hear it!

Today’s featured book trailer was created by Tina at Topaz Promos http://topazpromos.com She made this for Elenna Taylor for her book Win By Default from XOXO Publishing. 

http://tessmackall.com