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Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Christmas Fantasy - Book 1 of the Fantasy Diary Series - Siren Allen #adult #sex #erotic #authorinterview #fiction

Welcome to BRB, everyone! My guest today is self-published erotic author Siren Allen! And she's good at what she does, and that's write the steamy bits. Welcome, Siren, let's get the party started! What genre do your currently write? And, is there a genre you'd like to write, but haven't tried yet?
~ As Siren Allen, I write Erotic Romance: Paranormal and Contemporary. However, I do write under other pen names. As Monica Garry-Allen I write sweet Romantic Comedies. Coming this October you will find me writing horror under the name of M.G.A.
Yeah, I do a little bit of everything.

Many authors use a nom de plume, and they may use one opposite to their own sex. Do you think an author's sex or sexual orientation should dictate what genre they write?
~ No, I think we all should be free to express ourselves any way we choose.

Some authors have issues with character development, writer's block, plot summary etc. What is the biggest challenge you face when writing? How do you overcome the problem?
The biggest problem I face with writing is actually sitting down to write. My day job keeps me busy. I keep a note book handy so I’m always able to jot down ideas when I’m at work or out shopping.
When I get home I always get distracted by chores, my phone, FACEBOOK! Lol. In order for me to sit down and get some good writing time in I have to go to the library for a few hours and write on my laptop or if the weather is nice I go out on my porch and write. There are usually too many temptations in my house... including my hubby.

What has been the single most successful marketing tool you've used to date?
Facebook, it helps me reach people all over the world. I will definitely say Facebook and social media is very helpful for authors.

If you had to live as one of your characters, which one would it be, and why?
Though I love Alyssa Blakely from my current Paranormal that is out now, I have to say that as I write book two of that series I am realizing I would like to be Alyssa’s big sister, Ashley.
Ashley has a potty mouth and she’s not afraid to use it. She’s very independent and strong. She’s a force to be reckoned with and her mate is learning that taming her is going to be harder than he thought. So if I had to be any of my characters I would be the one I am writing now, Ashley Blakely from Dark Fantasies coming this December. 

While writing, have you ever drawn from personal experience, and why?
Yes, sometimes I have to ask myself ‘what would I do in certain situations’. But only if my characters personality is similar to mine. Other times I have to ask myself ‘what wouldn’t I do.’

Just for fun–
What is your favourite colour?
 Black
Which do you prefer: a little left to the imagination or explicit?
 Explicit
When you first met your partner/spouse/lover what drew you to him or her first?
His kindness.
If you could spend the day with any famous author, who would it be? And, why?
Kresley Cole, because she is one of my favorite authors and I would love to ask her questions about the alpha males in her Immortals After Dark Series.
If you could indulge free of any consequences, what would be your ultimate sexual fantasy?
A threesome...me, my husband and Channing Tatum. 

Christmas Fantasy – Book 1 of the Fantasy Diary Series

Blurb:
One bite was all it took. 

It’s that time of year again. Alyssa Blakely is busy writing in her fantasy diary, filling it with all her forbidden, sexual fantasies. The star: her very sexy boss, Devin Jordan. Too bad for her, he’s never given her a second glance. 

Or so she thought… 

After a steamy kiss under the mistletoe and a night of wild sex, Alyssa has the bite to prove just how wrong she was. 

Devin Jordan has found his mate. The only problem: she’s human. He’s not. Can he prove to her that his inner beast can be both naughty and nice? Or will her fear of the unknown and a threat neither of them saw coming keep him from claiming her?

Excerpt:
“Is this what you wanted to show me,” she purred and watched his chest rise and fall.
“Turn around.”
She did as he asked, turning around so that she faced the headboard. Ass in the air, she waited for him to touch her.
“Lay your head down on the bed.”
She did. Her pussy throbbed. She spread her legs open wider. Hoping he would hurry up and touch her.
“Close your eyes.”
 Eyes closed, she felt him push her hair to the side, off of her shoulder and back.
“Do you want to know what I was thinking?”
She nodded her head against the mattress as he rubbed his finger from the top of her spine to the bottom causing her to shiver. A moan slipped through her lips when she felt his tongue on her flesh, traveling the same path his finger had just taken. When he reached the bottom, he bit her cheek and gripped her ass in his hands. He kneaded her roughly, but it felt so good.
“I was thinking about this.” She felt his tongue against her pussy, licking her slowly. She rocked back, pushing her body closer to his face. “And this,” he said, before sucking her clit into his mouth.
“But…I…guessed this.” Her body shuddered and she could barely get her words out. His tongue swirled around her clit and her hips jerked. She tried to form a coherent thought, but found the task impossible. She felt him pull away. Cold air teased her center. She wanted his tongue against her flesh again.
“You said I wanted you tied to a chair.” Devin told her. “That was not what I wanted. I wanted you like this, with your ass in my face.”
Alyssa pressed her face against the mattress, his words making her even more aroused. Behind her, she felt him moving, repositioning himself. She gripped the sheets tighter, knowing what was coming next.
“Let me know if I’m too rough.”
Too rough, impossible. She loved his roughness. She loved that he no longer sounded like himself. His beast had emerged, because of her. He gripped her hips and pulled her against his erection, grinding his body on hers. She ignored the sliver of fear that came over her. He wouldn’t hurt her…couldn’t hurt her. She was his mate. He leaned forward and kissed the nape of her neck. Between her legs, she felt his fingers spreading her open.
“I’d rather die than hurt you.”  He pushed into her.
Gripping the sheets, she arched her back as he surged forward, going deeper.
“I love you, Alyssa.”
Tears of pleasure burned the back of her eyes. He pulled out and pushed forward again, causing pleasure to radiate through her body. She gasped for air as he drove into her. She pushed back, meeting him thrust for thrust. His growl was music to her ears. Their breaths came in gasps. When he increased his speed, her fragile grip on control snapped. This time the growl that filled the room was her own. She pushed against him, needing him to fuck her harder.
“Like that baby?” Devin thrust forward.
“Yes,” she cried.
“And that?” He asked as he slammed into her.
“Fuck, Devin, yes.”
Unable to hold herself up any longer, she sank onto the bed and he followed. Not missing a beat, he continued to ride her. With one side of her face pressed flat against the sheet, she stared at the hotel wall, helpless and bound to the pleasure that had taken control of her body. She felt Devin’s breath against her cheek.
“Come for me,” he whispered in her ear.
She wasn’t ready to come yet. Alyssa closed her eyes and tried to hold out. She tried to take control of her body, but her efforts were useless. Devin’s thrusts caused her inner walls to tighten, her body trembled.
“That’s it, love. Give it to me.”
She did. Alyssa bit down on her lower lip to keep from screaming out. His roar filled her ears as he joined her. His body felt heavy on top of her, but she didn’t mind. 

Purchase Link: http://www.amazon.com/
Website Link:  http://sirenallen.com/

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Romance in Winter - Jacqueline George #romance #sex #adult #erotic #fiction

Romance in Winter
By Jacqueline George

I do like snow. I love the Christmas card beauty of pine trees blanketed with fluffy snow, moonlight glistening on virgin fields, the swoosh of snow on cross-country skis. I really enjoy getting home or to a steamy café and tucking to hot winter soup.
On the other hand... Give me the tropical beaches and palm trees of north Queensland any day. This is the sort of climate people were designed for. If we had been meant to live in the frozen countries, we would have been born with decent fur coats. Last night I cooked chilli prawns and coconut rice. Just before I started, I went to the garden and picked the ginger, turmeric, chillies and coconuts. The prawns were fresh off a local boat and altogether, the meal was great.
Yes, it’s the tropics for me, but I still have a yen for cold and snow of Europe. And the history, of course. Modern Australia is far too young to have much in the way of history. So I sit in the gentle warmth, wearing just a sarong and with all the windows open, dreaming and writing about the cold. The Prince and the Nun could not be further from home. It has a castle, aristocratic soldiers, villagers, nuns, and heaps of hot, sexy romance. The fire is burning in the grate and the forests outside are quiet under their white blanket. Ah – just the way I like it!
Therese is no longer the Mother Superior of her convent. To stop village women being forced to serve in the officers’ bordello, she and some of the nuns have volunteered to run a night club where the officers can find all they need. But how will they learn what to do? The nuns will find the transition difficult...

Excerpt:
Therese looked again in the mirror. The stockings made her legs seem very long. The black of the stockings and lace stood out against the white of her skin, and the neat patch of dark hair that Wanda had trimmed was framed by the straps of the suspender belt. Her hair did nothing to hide the furrow below and the pink frills peeping from it. She found the picture interesting. Did all ladies look like this under their dresses? Nuns certainly did not look like this under their habits.

“Stop admiring yourself and put this on.”

Therese reddened and reached for the dress. As she pulled it over her head, it seemed no more than un-sewn scraps of silky material. She pulled the straps up onto her shoulders, and the dress hung loosely from her.
“Wait a minute.” Wanda was behind her and fumbling low on her hips. She found the zip and started to pull it up. The dress tightened; first around her hips, and then upwards. It squeezed her and tightened about her chest as Wanda clicked the zip home. The bodice of the dress trapped her breasts uncomfortably, and she reached into the dĂ©colletage to pull them into place. The effect shocked her. The dress was cut so low that her breasts were almost completely exposed. Worse still, they were lifted up and offered like two ripe fruits on a tray. She stared in horror at the mirror.
Wanda stood back and looked at her critically. “That’s a very good fit. Especially at the front. Turn around!”
As she moved, she found her legs restricted by the tightness of the dress around her thighs. In the mirror she could see the shiny blackness moulding her hips and thighs. A lacy flare reached down from her knees to her ankles. Her bottom looked big and obvious.

Wanda clapped her hands and laughed. “Dear Serge! He loves a good dupka, though not usually female ones. He just can’t help himself. I must get a photograph of you. He’ll be so happy.”
“But it’s not like me….”

“Of course not. You used to be a nun, but now…now it’s perfect. If I looked like that I could be Queen of Vienna. Stop complaining and see if you can do your hair and makeup the way I showed you.”
The room was dark when they entered, lit only by the lights behind the bar and a single bulb of the many in the chandelier. Mefist sat at a table at the edge of the dance floor, and he stood to receive them. The table had glasses, a candle and a bottle of champagne. Wanda led her to him and twirled her around.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful? Serge deserves a medal, and he’s never even seen her.”
“My dear, you look wonderful,” said Mefist, bowing to kiss her hand, “and you too, Wanda. If you were in Vienna together, your beauty would set the world on fire. Sit down and we’ll toast the future.”
While Mefist filled their glasses, Wanda put a record on the gramophone. American music, Cole Porter. The curtain over the entrance to the girls’ rooms rattled aside, and they danced into the room.
Therese was stunned. After seeing the girls dance naked for so long, seeing them in their new clothes came as a shock. Not that any of them had dresses. They all wore stockings and heeled shoes, but none of them wore knickers. Above their stockings they wore a colourful mix of underwear. Short slips, lacy brassieres, bustiers or transparent night dresses, all different. As they danced in the semi-darkness, they hinted at sex and wickedness. Therese had seen none of this worldliness in them before.
“Dance with them,” whispered Mefist. “They’re your girls….”
Moving carefully in her high shoes, Therese was passed from arm to arm as she danced. Suddenly she no longer knew these girls, these beautiful women with their erotic clothes and their naked, siren sexes. They were elegant and smooth in her arms. Their hair swayed as they moved, and their red lips smiled at her. They frightened her.

More on The Prince and the Nun at Prince and the Nun


Jacqueline lives in Far North Queensland, on the shore of the Coral Sea. She keeps herself busy with her cats and garden, and by writing books - some of which are far too naughty for her own good. You can find out more about Jacqueline and her books at www.jacquelinegeorgewriter.com

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Research-The Story Maker - Blak Rayne #article #writing #literature #research

Welcome to BRB, everyone! Something crossed my mind this morning, something every author has to contend with eventually, which some of us enjoy but others would rather avoid. Research. That all consuming ritual of looking up everything from the simple definitions of words and correct context usage to foreign city maps and medical lingo. If you can think it up, it's been researched. And, in my personal opinion, any profession that requires precise information such as the medical or legal fields, though interesting to read are the worst to write about. Every country has different laws and judicial system, as well as differing levels of medical knowledge and application of that knowledge; some countries are highly advanced while others lack the basics. And no matter the rule, an exception can always be made - a realistic exception that is.
Do you think it's better to research and get your facts straight? Or do you think the "reality check" should be avoided?
In my latest series The Ideal Side of Love and The Ideal Side of Life, I decided my main character Stephen Pritchard would be a successful entrepreneur as the owner of several cafes. The reason I chose a cafe as the setting is because I worked in one; I've worked a variety of jobs and been self-employed most my life, so I write what I know. After Stephen loses his husband to cancer, he accidentally meets Carson Mackenzie and a relationship develops. And, of course, I couldn't chose a simple occupation for Carson, no, I had to make him a police officer. Which seemed a natural choice and worked well with the plot, considering Stephen's older brother Rodger is also a police officer and he works out of the same detachment as Carson. Anyway, I think you get the picture. 
Not only was Carson a police officer, I made him into an RCMP officer. I thought, what the hell, the RCMP are an iconic symbol of Canada, well recognised world wide, and our federal police force. What could be simpler? To tell you the truth, any other choice would've been simpler. Since the RCMP do much more than police in this country, how the organization is run, is kept out of the public eye for obvious reasons. Researching became tedious and non-productive in the end because I was never sure if what I found was accurate or not. So, I enlisted the help of Jason, a friend and RCMP officer. And he's been an absolute life saver. 
Thank you, Jason!!!
For the third novel in the series, I've decided to write from Carson's perspective, which will be a huge but refreshing change and will require additional insight into the life of an RCMP officer. I'm not sure if it was a wise decision or not, but I've decided to do a ride-along with Jason in the fall. I'm nervous but excited. 
Researching can be problematic and there are times when it takes me literally hours to find what I need. But, I think it's part of writing. If you want to engage the reader, have them believe in your characters and live their story with them, you've got to make the story as realistic, or should I say feasible as possible, where it's necessary.
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Have a great weekend!
Happy Yaoi Hunting!
Blak Rayne

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Many-Eyed Ones - Pamela Turner #article #angels #research #ebook #novels

“Many-Eyed Ones”
 by Pamela Turner

In Exterminating Angel, Zaphkiel, former leader of the angelic order thrones, lives on earth and works as a demon hunter under his boss, Ophaniel, who insists on calling them ophanim, much to Zaphkiel’s chagrin.

Angel politics aside, the names are actually equivalent. Ophaniel is the eponymous leader of the ophanim, while Zabkiel and Oriphiel are also considered the ruling princes of thrones. And to make it more interesting, fallen angels, including Murmur and Raum, have been chiefs.

Confusing? Then how about this description from 3 Enoch 25: 6-7: “All the ophanim are full of eyes and full of wings, eyes corresponding to wings and wings corresponding to eyes…” Not only that, but these thrones/ophanim are described as wheels (sometimes fiery). Called the “many-eyed ones,” thrones/ophanim are tasked with dispensing divine justice and pulling God’s chariot, which is steered by the cherubim.

The prophet Ezekiel’s description of thrones/ophanim is probably the most well-known. “As I looked at the living creatures, I saw wheels on the ground… The four of them had rims, and I saw their rims were full of eyes all around.” (Ezekiel 1: 15-18)

A strange description for a celestial entity. According to Rosemary Ellen Guiley, the “term ‘throne’ generally refers to a symbol of majesty and the seat of God and God’s glory, and as such it is not a spiritual being.” She goes on to say that Colossians 1: 16 is the only time thrones are equated as being angels. And yet, according to the Talmud Bereshith Rabba, “All patriarchs became angels of this order on arriving in heaven.”

So who’s to say that some reported UFO sightings may not actually have been thrones/ophanim?

Sources:
Angels A to Z (Lewis, James R. and Oliver, Evelyn Dorothy)
Dictionary of Angels, Including the Fallen Angels (Davidson, Gustav)
Encyclopedia of Angels (Guiley, Rosemary Ellen)

Catholic Bible (Personal Study Edition)

Exterminating Angel

Blurb:

Making a deal with the Devil is the least of his problems.
Zaphkiel, a chain-smoking, hard-drinking archangel, never intended to unleash the sun demon upon the city. Bad enough his boss wants him dead, and this recent crime is the perfect excuse. The timing couldn’t be worse. Somehow, Zaphkiel’s executed lover, Caliel, is alive and reincarnated as Sean. Zaphkiel is thrilled to be reunited with Caliel again, but will his lover feel the same when he learns Zaphkiel’s darkest secret?
Hired by Lucifer, Sean wants nothing more than to fit in. But how can he compete when the Devil’s friends include archangels and a Tarot reader, and he was born without special abilities? Or so he believes. The Tarot hints there may be more to him than he realizes.
Recruited by the Devil to find the two pentacles sun demon Sorath plans to use to destroy the universe, Zaphkiel and Sean find themselves pawns in a game of power and control. If the archangel gives his boss the pentacles, Ophaniel will overlook his crime. But Zaphkiel knows he can’t trust either Ophaniel or Sorath, and the deal he’s made with the Devil could cost him not only his life, but also the lover he believed gone forever.

Excerpt:

Is your decision worth it? Zaphkiel replayed Lucifer’s words as he lay next to Sean. His lover’s chest rose and fell in rhythm to his relaxed breathing. One arm was thrown up alongside his face, hand balled into a fist. Sean’s other arm lay across his stomach.
Would their relationship change when he became a fallen angel? He stroked Sean’s hair, marveling at how such an innocuous action could stir such a possessive feeling in him. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over the other man’s.
Sean opened his eyes, and smiled. “Morning already?”
“No. It’s still early. Go back to sleep.” Zaphkiel would never tire of looking into those eyes, irises green and rimmed with blue. His heart swelled with relief he had this second chance. How Sean—no, Caliel—had managed to escape Seraphic flames astounded him, and he thanked whomever had saved his lover.
Sean pushed himself to a sitting position against pillows, and turned on the nightstand lamp. “Something’s on your mind.” He cradled Zaphkiel’s head against his chest, curling strands of his hair around his fingers. “Care to tell me about it?”
Sean’s steady heartbeat was a comforting sound to remind him he’d something tangible to believe in, rather than a distant memory lingering in his subconscious, a reminder of an irretrievable past. But he couldn’t tell Sean his true nature. He’d promised, and he didn’t want to destroy their relationship.
Nor could he tell Sean what he planned to do that could change both their lives.
Sean kissed the top of his head. He pulled Zaphkiel close, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Talk to me.”
Zaphkiel leaned against Sean, closing his eyes, and enjoying the closeness, clean smell of soap, and satiny feel of warm, tanned skin.
Sean kissed him at the juncture of his shoulder and neck. A nip, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make the hair on his arms rise. He pressed his hands against Zaphkiel’s chest, gently rubbing his nipples in a circular motion until they peaked under his touch.
A fluttering sensation filled Zaphkiel’s stomach, and his breath hitched.
Sean ground his erection against Zaphkiel’s lower back. Heat flowed through his groin and abdomen, temperature rising. His body ached with need, and knowing Sean wanted him meant more to him than he could express. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He took Sean’s hand and pushed it past the waistband of his cotton briefs. “Someone’s getting lonely here.”
“We can’t let that happen.” Sean squeezed his erection. That, along with the cotton fabric rubbing against his sensitive skin, created a friction that drove him mad with desire. No one else made him feel this way. Even in his loneliest moments, when he believed his lover dead, the thought of another man or angel touching him sexually filled him with revulsion. His body and soul belonged only to Caliel.
“Hope you don’t have to be anywhere in the morning.” Sean shifted beneath him. He rolled Zaphkiel over and kissed his throat, at the same time reaching between his legs and stroking him.
Zaphkiel arched off the bed. God, Sean knew what erogenous buttons to push. His skin tingled and burned as his passion rose. Always, Caliel saw to his needs first, insisting Zaphkiel’s pleasure was more important than his own. Of course, it was a lie, and seeing the wanton look on his lover’s face always drove him to new heights of arousal, even if he’d just come. But that was Caliel, always giving, never expecting anything in return. A pure, selfless lover.
Sean gently bit a nipple, and Zaphkiel swore even more blood filled his cock. He ran his hands through Sean’s blond hair, soft strands falling over his fingers. How many centuries had he dreamed of touching Caliel, only to wake up alone, eyes wet with tears. Now they were together again, he promised himself he wouldn’t let anyone, not even Ophaniel, take Caliel away again.

Website Link: http://pamelaturner.net

Thanks for sharing the great article, Pamela! And I love the excerpt! :) Blak