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Sunday, January 5, 2014

The Boy Next Door Harmony-C.E. Todd #erotic #romance #contemporary #sex


Welcome to BRB, everyone! My guest today is a relatively new author that's currently chosen to self-publish. It's nice to have you here, C.E. I always enjoy hosting authors who are into self-publishing, so let's begin. :) What genre do your currently write? And, is there a genre you'd like to write, but haven't tried yet?

Currently, I write erotic romance.  I'm fairly happy where I am, but I find that over time, I want to create more complex plots.

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?

The idea that it should seems so "last century" to me.  I certainly hope not, and I really don't think so.  On the other hand, the writing should stand on its own.  If it sounds too "male" or too "female" or too "gay", then the writing needs to be improved.

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?

My biggest challenge is to make the plot flow.  I think alot about my plots and create outlines before I write.  I can't write my way out of a situation with detailed character analysis, like Stephen King says in "On Writing".  Maybe over time I'll get to that point, but I like knowing where things are going when I write.  It makes my writing more concise.  So, having said all that, maybe my biggest issue is character development, and I just don't realize it.  ;)

What has been the single most successful marketing tool you've used to date?

Well, I'm new, so I need to get the word out, and freebies are the best way I know to do that.  I get about one or two sales for every hundred freebies downloaded, which is about par for any marketing endeavor.

What are you currently reading? 

Anything by Jasinda Wilder.  I love her pace, and concision.

How do you measure success?

I measure success by book sales.  It also helps if I'm satisfied with what I write, but satisfaction never paid a bill.

Just for fun–

What is your favourite drink?
Gin and Tonic

Are you a cat or dog person?
Definitely a dog person

Love or lust?
Love, because true love includes lust.

If you could spend the day with any famous author, who would it be? And, why?
I would love to have lunch with Sinclair Lewis, and just listen to his wit in the flesh.  Among the living, I would love to listen to Jasinda Wilder create her plots.
           
If you could indulge free of any consequences, what would be your ultimate sexual fantasy?
An evening alone with Jodie Foster.


Website Link:  www.ce-todd-books.com

They Boy Next Door:  Harmony

Blurb: 

Christine Metcalf's quiet life as a doctor's wife is not so quiet lately. Since her husband threw himself into his career, after learning he couldn't father children, Christine has been left alone. 

So, she buys a motorcycle, and begins to look at her neighbor Tom in a new way.  Just as Christine begins to connect with Tom, a sudden revelation raises important questions. Will she see Tom again?

Excerpt:

Poor Tom.  His eyes showed such worry, as if he was waiting for one of those cartoon anvils to fall out of the sky and crush him.  Maybe this wasn’t quite the time to confront things directly.  “I thought maybe you’d like to go for a ride, to cool down.”

Tom stared, clearly not expecting this.  “Um, sure.  I suppose I could cool down.”

I tossed a helmet to Tom, and put mine on, straddling the bike.  Slowly, Tom lifted his long, lanky leg over the seat behind me, and put his hands gingerly at the top of my hips.  I smiled.  Always the gentleman.

“Now, Tom, you’ll need to hang on tight.  I don’t want you sliding off the back of the seat, okay?” 

“Yes, Ms. M.”  The poor boy was polite to a fault.

The bike roared to life, and I pulled out into the street.  As I accelerated, I felt the cool rush of the wind against me.  Tom pulled himself closer to me, gradually.  As I pulled onto a busier street, accelerating quickly, I felt Tom’s arms slide around my stomach.  He smelled of soap, cologne, and sweat.

I drove back into the neighborhood, and suddenly, a toy ball rolled into the road.  I grabbed the brakes hard, feeling Tom lurch forward, against my back, hard, and I mean that literally.  As a small child wandered into the street to pick up the ball, and I waved at the parents on the porch, there was no mistaking it.  Something was slowly snaking up my backside, and it wouldn’t stop.  God, this thing must be huge.  Church, Christine…think of church.  I felt Tom press against me, but move slightly, as if he were squirming.  I imagine he was a bit uncomfortable with something like that snaking through his pants.  As I turned the corner, I felt what I thought was Tom’s full hardness against me.  For once, as it turned out, my husband, Dr. Glen, had done something right.  Usually I hate wearing thongs – why would anyone want a string up their ass? – but Glen kept buying so many of them, I got tired of stuffing them into my dresser drawer every morning, so I started wearing them.  Some of them were more comfortable than others, to be sure, but they still, generally, sucked.  On hot days like today, though, they were a bit cooler than normal.  Right now, though, I was realizing an unintended advantage – it was easier to feel a young man’s cock sliding up my ass.  And it kept growing.  This thing was much larger than Glen.  That was for sure.

I just couldn’t resist.  I started a sort of silent dance.  I arched my back slightly, pushing my rump back into Tom, and Tom would squeeze against me, then back away slightly.  Nothing was said, so I pretended I still had some deniability.  I rode past my house, and around the neighborhood one more time.  By the time I returned, it was getting dark, so I pulled into my driveway, and pulled off my helmet, shaking my hair loose.

I turned around as I straddled the bike.  “Tom, could you come inside for a minute?” Tom removed his helmet, and nodded, silently.

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