Back in the hot seat: Michele Hope!

 As stars glitter above the Ozarks and a grand old hotel, opportunities can avail in the least expected of places.  Yet for the skilled and gifted, so much can be made from a graceful bend at the waist, a suggestive touch or an alluring smile.  The ghost of Al Capone haunts floors of grandeur and our handsome escapees from a tropical storm ply their skills to an unsuspecting young lifeguard.  And does he ever . . . become the fortunate beneficiary of lace, rum and a midnight dip...

* * * *

Can't you just see it? Sounds downright intriguing, huh? Well, ladies and gents, that is the setup for Michele Hope's latest release, Vantage Points! And the stunning, multitalented Michele has been kind enough to come and grace the Parlor with her presence again today. (If you missed her last visit, go here!)  All right—*fire's up the tattoo machine*—let's drop some INK!

Sable: Hey, Michele! Welcome back to the Parlor. Okay, Al Capone's ghost, an old hotel, and a young lifeguard?  *lifts brow* Tell us about your hot new book, Vantage Points.

Michele: Well, whatever made you ask me about THAT?  Just a naughty little southern tale (or is that tail?) set at a grand hotel.

Sable: Definitely "tail", and definitely naughty *grins*.  So, what's the inspiration behind this tale?

Michele: Michael and I love staying at old hotels. The Eola in Natchez, the Place d'Armes in New Orleans, The Battle House in Mobile is to die for!  The Arlington in Hot Springs is a place where gangsters used to hang out (or hide).  Not too much law & order back then.  We go every summer.  I do love the rack of lamb at the Fountain Room!  They also have a split-level pool built into the mountainside.  If you use your imagination, lose yourself and the vacationers, it just seemed a natural setting for a dangerously handsome couple to live out some dangerously sexy moments.  I AM and imaginative girl Sable!

Sable: That you are, my dear, and with the background on some of those places, well, if only the walls could talk....  What's your favorite line or scene from VP?

Michele: Hmm . . . lemme think.  Oh jeez, now I'm gonna have to read it again.  I'll be right back.  Okay, I'm back.  Quick read if you were there.  I mean, uh . . . if you wrote it!  HAAA!!!  Whew!  I think I'm glowing.  I suppose it would be, and since I'm all about the seduction, the opening scene at the pool where my pretty belle plies her charm to an unsuspecting lifeguard.  And with such conspiratorial innocence too.  They're all making waves soon enough.

Sable: Last time you stopped by, we were talking about your other book, Service Rendered.  Do you think your writing has changed in any way since then?

Michele: Oh, I don't know, likely not.  With Service Rendered, I wrote in 1st person and that was new.  I like that it's more introspective and easier to avoid those wore out pronouns.  You know, "He . . . ." and "she . . . ." then some more "he and she" until some of the stuff just bores me.  It seems to be just bad writing, poor sentence structure. Don't forget, Michael is an integral part of all this.  He's very accomplished at description and setting.  And pretty damn handy to have around *looks up and winks at Sable*  He's real good with chainsaw and baitin' a hook!

Sable: Y'know what they say: Behind every good woman is a man with a chainsaw :) Now I know ya'll like to take it nice and easy on that pretty bayou of yours, but what's next on your To-Be-Written list and when can we expect it? (I'm a city girl, and therefore an impatient li'l cuss, or so my Nana says.)

Michele: I have another book to be released early in May, "Unselfishly Surrendered."  More way down South setting but with witches and absinthe!  I guess it might cross-over into paranormal but sometimes 'paranormal' seems fairly normal around here.  We have an old witch living down the bayou, I've only seen her once and she didn't wave back.  Michael has cautioned me about going and looking for that sort of thing.  He said, "If you go lookin' for the Devil, chere, well, he'll find you first!  So just let it alone."  I have seen, how should I say, some unexplainable things here in this mystical place.  Voodoo!  But I can't imagine writing or living anywhere else.  Oh . . . did I say anything about the SEX?  Evidently, witches have it too!

Sable:  "...lookin' for the Devil..."—That's why Michael's go that chainsaw! LOL! Now, most of us in the writing clan have multiple business endeavors and I know you're no different, Michele.  Tell us about your (and Michael's *rawr*) other creative inventions.   

Michele: I have to tell you about these amazing and beautiful handmade leather journals we're putting together.  Hand stitched, heavy printing papers, original artwork. Very cool stuff if I say so myself.  Okay, okay, actually Michael makes them but I HELP!  We'll be going public with them soon so be lookin' for 'em.  New South Books.  You always get a heads-up on what we're doing.  No writer should be without one.  What was the question?  I forgot.  Oh yeah, business. Business?  Sable, I'm busy fishin'!  In closing, my southern manners would fail me if I didn't invite you to join us here sur le bayou.  Sweet tea darlin?  Pimms Cup?  I happen to know a very good server.  HA!  Bienvenue Sable, à tout moment .

Sable: Those are absolutely gorgeous.  Nothing like a handmade journal to hold all your little secrets.... Merci, Michele, and a Pimm's Cup from that server, please! And now, un petit lécher (a little lick) from Vantage Points...

As we stand waist deep in the pool's middle, a relaxed demeanor among us permits easy bantering.  The clouds  race above in an uncontested advance from the Gulf.  In their hurry, they remain ambivalent to the hands placed on my hips, a proffered kiss to the back my shoulder.  Experience tells me my man's eyes are cut to Eric, who stands directly in front of us, merely feet away.  I feel those strong hands then the unmistakable caress I'm so familiar with.   One hand traces slowly to my waist, the other gathering my hair from my shoulders.  More kisses follow, delicacies to my nape.  In accord, another hand moves from my waist to just beneath my breast, cupping me softly.  Now, both palms are moving uniformly around the volume of my curves, lingering moments in full but soft clutch.  My nipples tauten, the aching ever so pleasant.  I feel them strain against the bikini's light fabric.  Before closing my eyes, I see my lifeguard watching the unlikely stagecraft playing out in his presence. 

            Bliss is unaccounted for in time.  Realizing I've lost myself for a moment, my eyes open and I look directly into Eric's.   Unlike the clouds, he is observant and very still, mesmerized by this improbable, slow-motion scene.   My husband's hands move with practiced expertise to the straps, slowly releasing them from my shoulders.  I feel them surrender, falling to my arms.  The down on neck rises as the little fastener in back is freed and my top tumbles gently away, fully revealing nipples that point skyward, stiffened and drawing even tighter.  Oh the agony!  Full of drama, I feel the weight of my breasts settle and at the same instant, I feel the compelling and defining bulge of my husband from behind. 

            I look at Eric, incredulous and indulge the moment, allowing for his full consumption before taking a deep breath to hold.  I glide straight downward into the shallows depths, the fleeting touch of my husband's fingertips following on the backs of my arms.  I imagine the bikini top floating on the surface in a vortex of tangled hair.   With smooth precision and elegance of movement, I extend my hand backward in the submersion,  finding the considerable authority beneath my husband's Bahaman shorts. 

            Springing from the concrete bottom, I jettison across the pool, never surfacing until I reach the side.  Then rising above the water's level, I discover no indication of a wake, my getaway so flawless.   I bring my hands up and push water from my face, clearing my eyes.  My breasts are buoyant just above the water line, floating, freed of restraint and gravity.  From across the pool, I become witness to my admirers, one possessed of extreme confidence, the other, stunned like a goat!  I hear but one voice, influence in its strength as it is calming in its certainty.  "Perfect isn't she?"

* * * *

Sable:  WHOA!  I love the spicy licks :) I want to thank Michele for dropping in today, and you readers for swinging by.  Make sure you leave her some love down there in the comments and then go out there and grab your copy of Vantage Points for just $2.99 NOW! 

Amazon

BN

AllRomance

BookStrand

Ain't No Rest for the Wicked...

Well, folks, time to relace the Timbs, pull on your hoodie and get back in the trenches. 

According to a recent article by Selena Kitt on TheSelfPublishingRevolution, the week-old PayPal reversal hasn't quite trickled down to the company's Customer Service reps.  So, while in digital ink PayPal has said it's okay for us wicked erotica writers to continue providing the obscene material guaranteed to hold our reservations in hell, they haven't actually allowed for payment processing of those "icky"titles that depict rape, bestiality and incest (pseudo, psycho, or psotherwise).  In fact, these things are still "Banned". *Dun, dun, DUUUUUUNNNN*

And it's not just PayPal.  Visa and MasterCard came out in what appeared to be the defense of the legally erotic, stating they were not responsible for PayPal's original shenanigans, but they, too, have yet to allow payment processing for the aforementioned ickyness.  Add to that Amazon's filtering of erotic titles out of the main search pages, and where does that leave us? Back at square one. (Selena does a fantastic job with the details, so hop on over to her article and give it a read.)

Now, I'm hoping Selena is right in that this is simply a matter of these companies (PayPal, MasterCard, and Visa) being so large the memo that reads KEEP PROCESSING "ICK" just hasn't made its rounds.  But my e-mail seems to work pretty damn fast, and I use yahoo, soooo.... *shrugs*

This is all so very exhausting, isn't it? Over a bunch of cleverly strung together words?  Valery was right: Books have the same enemies as people: fire, humidity, animals, weather, and their own content.  I'm not sure what the agenda is here, but there is clearly an agenda. And if you think otherwise, you should probably know you can get 15% off your auto insurance by switching to Geico.  Bottom line: we might very well be back to the letter writing and bra burning.

It's not fair.  We should be pursuing more creative endeavors and instead have to fight the stupids.  I swear I'm gonna buy stock in stupid.  It's the only thing guaranteed to increase exponentially every year.  *sigh* But fight we must.  So if that's the case and the smell of burned elastic is in the air, there's something I want all of you writers and readers to think about.  Not the "C" word, because last time that got everyone way off topic and into a battle of definition that detracted from the issue.  Rather, think about what the moves by these corporations managed to do the first time. Truth is, they caused a rift in the writing community, made us turn on ourselves.  

Many a writer chimed in with whether or not they agreed with what PayPal was doing when it decided to enforce its ban on certain "extreme" and "obscene" erotica.  And instead of us reasonably sane people (in spite of talking to the voices in our heads) looking at the issue objectively—Corporations are making it damn-near impossible for a certain type of fiction to earn income.  They're also, in effect, dictating what I can and can't do with my money—we allowed our opinions to cloud the facts—Well, I don't write that crap, and I don't read that crap, and anyone who does should burn in hell!!! (Purple curtains in my suite, thanks...)   We started deciding who the moral were among us, and anyone not INKing things socially acceptable was shoved under the bus.  We made the jobs of those trying to shut us up much easier.  Divide and conquer.

I'm by no means saying you shouldn't have an opinion.  What I'm asking is that you don't succumb to the knee-jerk reaction of "This doesn't apply to me so I don't care what PayPal or Amazon or whoever does".  Or, the bullshit reaction of "X is a company and has a right to do whatever yadda, yadda, yadda". These corporations, the same ones that are willing to hang on to the money you've earned conducting a legal transaction, must be held accountable.  Because whether I write rape, bestiality, or incest-themed books is completely irrelevant.  

I write. 

Fiction. 

Period. 

Once I decide it's okay for corporations to treat a certain group of fiction writers in an altogether unfair manner, I leave myself open to the same type of isolation. In fact, I invite it, because if they can infringe on one, they'll infringe on us all.  Inches and miles.  And no, I'm not screaming the sky is falling, I'm merely pointing out the ground and clouds seem to be getting closer together...

Chances are good I'm going to write something that offends someone's delicate sensibilities at one time or another.  Lord knows I say enough things to warrant an ungodly amount of soap in my mouth.  And sometimes things other people write irk me.  Case in point, I just finished reading a book (a really good book) that had the copious use of a racial slur I don't particularly care for.  if I were thinner skinned it might have offended me, but did I think the writer absolutely needed to include it? No. Did it add to the value of the book? Let's see...contemporary adventure mystery with a romantic bent...In my opinion, no.  But do I think she had the right to use it? Damn straight.  She was building a character.  She felt this was something that character would say, just as there were things she felt that character would do that I wouldn't necessarily agree with. But it's fiction.

In the same respect, the rape of a character (whether it "titillates" or not) is not the same as someone committing such a heinous act in the realm of reality.  I'm not a werewolf (in case you're not paying attention), but werewolves get it on, right? 'Cause really, no storks are delivering werewolf cubs to a clan of full-grown man-dogs.  Who am I to say they must fornicate while in human form so as not to be deemed "obscene"?  Never mind the fact that humans are in the animal kingdom (we sure as shit ain't plants) with an allegedly higher degree of encephalization, so, really, any form of human-on-human sex is technically bestiality. Nah, we won't get into that.  That might make your head explode. And, while this is a repeat, humans used to believe the purer the blood the better, so incest wasn't always so taboo. What society frowns upon today was at one time the norm.  

I just want you to think about these thing. Objectively.  Treat it like Twilight and suspend your belief long enough to not cringe at the glittering vampire with the diamond skin standing in the sunlight and not burning to a crisp, and look at these "fringe" books for what they really are: a temporary escape from reality.  They're not real. They don't hurt anybody.  But what they do is provide creatively inclined people just like you to earn a living and support themselves and their families in a legal and safe manner.  Now, lace up your Timbs, strap on your riot gear, and prepare to fight with those of us on the dark side. 

"'Cause there ain't no rest for the wicked. 

...Until we close our eyes for good."

But, PayPal, I thought we were friends…

I mean, seriously, it’s right there in your name!  For those of you who haven’t the foggiest what I’m talking about, I’ll streamline it for you as only Sable J can. *wink*

PayPal recently dusted off its TOS (or inked in a new line, you be the judge) and said, “Holy strawberries, Batman! Are we ever in a jam! We’ve been accepting and processing payments for people that sell *gasp* erotica?  For *gulp* years? This simply won’t do! We must rectify this posthaste!”

So, out went the PayPalettes, zipping off form letter after form letter to indie ebook distributors, like BookStrand and ARE, and to indie publishers who sell directly from their sites, like the super awesome excessica.com *insert stadium applause*.  And what was in that letter? It wasn’t an, “Our bad, we didn’t know we were processing payments for your filthy-minded writers”. Nooo, it was much more robotic: “Boop—This is the PayPal-o-matic 9500. You are not in compliance with rule 5,760a that we’ve never enforced before.  In order to get in compliance with rule 5,760a, you must immediately remove all titles containing themes that discuss or hint at rape, bestiality, incest and pseudo-incest.  You have 30 days to fix this situation or we close your account and keep your money.  End transmission…boop.”  Mind you, this includes BDSM, which is a specific brand of mind-fuck that could totally include all of the above at once if the author’s crafty enough.

Well, the saying “shit rolls downhill” ain’t a saying for nothin’! Soon after, BookStrand and ARE scrambled to comply; the former terminating the accounts of a number of indie authors and threatening to terminate the accounts of indie publishers as well if those disgusting books weren’t removed, the latter asking authors to filter their works into newly defined categories of Erotica and Erotic Romance. (It should be noted ARE claims they were never contacted by PayPal, but if everyone else has been, I’d think they were too). That last bit about the categories doesn’t seem so bad, now does it?  However, if you consider the ARE policy change just so happened to coincide with the PayPal crackdown, one could conclude they’re gonna end up pushing those erotica titles off a cliff.  In short—Serial Eroticide.

This is the abbreviated version of events to date, if you want the full scoop, (without my brand of sarcasm) you can read it here along with the snappy e-mail from BookStrand to Dear Author in which BS (after asking Dear Author to “Kindly get your facts straight”) stated its publishing division, Siren, “NEVER has and NEVER will publish books with the disgusting themes of incest, pseudo incest, rape for sexual titillation, or bestiality with naturally occurring animals."  As you can imagine that line is complete and utter, er, BS.

You all caught up? Perfect. Either which way, the point is PayPal is not the friend of the erotica writer.  The speculative blame is being placed on chargebacks common in high-risk industries like porn and gambling—you know, after you’ve read your book and got your jollies, you call the credit card company and say you did not mean to make that purchase.  BTW, if you do that, may the fleas of a thousand camels rise up and infest your armpits.  Anyhow, I don’t think chargebacks are at the heart of this matter, but it’s a nice scapegoat...

Now, many authors are asking what’s next?  We’re all screaming about 1st Amendment rights and burning our bras! (not really, bras are expensive nowadays) #OccupyPayPal is trending on twitter! (it’s sooo not trending on twitter, but if it does, you know where it started).  Censorship Killed the Erotica Writer tee-shirts are flying out of stores everywhere! It’s Bedlam, I tell ya! Beeeeeddddllaaaammm!!

Like everyone else, I don’t know what’s next.  In fact, this post isn’t really suppose to be about any of that, but I had to give you some background or you’d think I was crazy(-er?) just jumping head first into what follows.

BDSM, rape, bestiality, incest, and pseudo-incest, defined as sex between non-biologically related people, e.g., step-dad and step-daughter.  Some of your eyes have glazed over and you’re thinking, YUCK! GROSS! I would never read anything like that.  Icky, icky, icky! To which I cough, bullshit.  Whether you’ve read it in an erotica title like me (I’m a grown ass woman, I do what I want) or in a mainstream (i.e., socially acceptable) piece of work, chances are you’ve read it.  The list would be exhaustive for books, but The Bluest Eye springs to mind for the rape theme (as does the Bible, but unknot your panties, I’m not going there) and there are a lot more.  Perhaps you’re a watcher.  Ever seen American Me? Platoon? Deliverance? I could go on.  Or maybe you think those are depictions of rape, and not meant to titillate (which seems to be the word du jour). How about Righteous Kill—a break-in and rape scene, meant to, ahem, titillate. 

Let’s move on to incest.  Scarface.  BAM! That. Just. Happened.  Yes, there’s an incest theme very prevalent in this hardcore, badass gangsta flick.  Tony is secretly pining for his little sister.  And right before she’s killed, she tells her brother to fuck her.  “Come on, fuck me, Tony.” (Could be paraphrased).  Not meant to titillate, but there.  “Say good’ni to da bad guy…”  But WAIT! The bad guy does it again in The Devil’s Advocate!  There’s a scene where Al’s screwing Charlize (his daughter) and offers her to Keanu (his son) who, in the movie’s “real life”, are married. If that ain’t confusing…

Okay, I’m not going into pseudo-incest, because while it may ick some people out, it ain’t illegal. You’re not blood related. (FYI, if not for negative recessive gene traits presenting, and the sometimes horrible mutations, society would once again say inbreeding was quite all right. Remember, being pureblood used to be a good thing. Hello—Gladiator? “Am I not merciful!?”)  And I’m not going into BDSM, because the range on that is huge! Really, tying a partner to a bed is bondage, and many of you do it, so you’re into BDSM, and therefore cannot use PayPal… Comply, dammit!

Bestiality was a hard one for me, and I actually had to turn to the web to find something (scary, I knew the others off the top of my head. Hm…) And after sifting through the infamous “farm-girl screws horse” videos, I came upon Sleeping Dogs Lie. I’ve never seen the film, you’ll have to investigate further, this is merely a point of illustration. 

See, as a society we’ve been quite all right with slipping these “disgusting” themes into our movies and calling it art.  We’ve watched a guy stick his dick into apple pie and laughed, for the love of all things yellow! And PayPal has no problem processing an eBay purchase for the sale of any of the aforementioned movie titles, or video games for that matter.  Why is erotica different?  Well-written erotica is not, I repeat, NOT porn.  Don’t believe me, read my older post.  Yes, there are authors out there pushing the limit when it comes to sex, but since when did we lose our ability to choose? You don’t have to buy or read things you don’t want to, same way you don’t have to watch movies you don’t like, or smoke a joint, or drink, or dance, or…or…or. I’m a big wuss when it comes to horror.  Wouldn’t I be an idiot to go watch Paranormal Activity, scare myself witless, and then demand that everyone else be prevented from watching it too?  Not choosing to read an erotica title with a theme you’re not okay with does not make you a prude, it makes you a friggin’ adult! 

But that’s what this PayPal shakedown feels like—a handful of people decided they didn’t like what was being sold on Amazon (or BN, or wherever).  Having already tried to bring down the naughty list on Amazon and only getting marginal results with the whole censorship business, they went for the pockets. How are these small companies (authors) being paid? PayPal.  Well, let’s take it straight to PayPal.  And PayPal, not bothering to do its homework, decided it needed to cover its ass by hacking off its nose, making an already hideous face even more so.  Spite away, PP.

Now, back to what this means for you, Average Natasha, writing edgy romantic suspense that does not talk directly about all the fun bits of the human body but does involve hot kisses, heavy petting, and alludes to more horizontal levels of intimacy?  It means you’re next.  But..but, why? My characters have the decency to do it off-screen! My books aren’t nasty!  Says who?  PayPal? Isn’t that an adult theme?  What if one of your characters being raped is integral to the plot of the story? In most novels, the sex and sexual tension between two characters pushes a story along. Do you take out the scene so you are in compliance with the PayPal or BS or ARE TOS?  Aren’t you then censoring yourself?

And, you, Average Dominic, writing fast-paced conspiracies with lots of murder and government cover-ups.  Get in line, because once they figure out how to stop us pervy erotica writers from writing altogether, and convince Natasha to not have her hero and heroine kiss or touch and walk around in hermetically sealed bags to prevent the transfer of bodily fluids including-but-not-limited-to semen, saliva, and sweat, you can bet your ass your days of killing characters by means of gun, knife, hardback book, credit card, or any other object that could possibly cause harm are good and over. 

You’re laughing. You think I’m just rambling and that this is all a tad over-exaggerated.  It’s not.  Remember earlier I said shit rolls downhill?  Well, we’re in the same cart, and eventually it’ll get on us all.  Whether you’re an indie author writing about your character’s struggle with life on the streets, or your characters are doing things frowned upon in a made-up world in a time and place we can’t even fathom seeing—we are none of us immune.

What to do about it?

First, let me reiterate, we are in this together.   That means staying informed on this issue and discussing the matter will be key.  You can follow TheSelfPublishingRevolution.blogspot.com for more detailed info. 

Next, there’s a petition circulating to stop internet censorship. If you agree with it, sign it.  And tell a friend to sign it, too.   

Some are calling for a boycott of these big corporations like Amazon, BN, PayPal. People tend to understand things when they get hit in the wallet. This might be an option, and may include figuring out where to relocate your titles or how else to get paid for your work.  Again, all of that is still up in the air at the moment.  But do NOT let this issue die.  Share it with your friends on Facebook or Twitter or pick up a phone and call! Send snail mail if you must, but let’s continue to get the word out that these unfair practices against all creatively inclined people will not be tolerated.

That’s my dollar’s worth. Go spend it.

Eros Fell...

Hiya, folks!

It's been a minute, I know. Life seems to keep getting in the way, and I'd rather be writing. But I'm back—at least for now— and thought I'd let ya all know about the newest little morsel, Eros Fell.

Want some background? Well, whether you do or not, you're here so I'm gonna tell you. (OMG, seriously, it's like 2am as I'm prepping this and my dog's going batshit! What the...? Sorry, tangent...)

Background about this story—I had no intention of writing this, but as always seems to be the case, I was working on another Valentine's Day story (Saint Heartbreak, coming soon) and it sooo needed this background info and I decided, this story had to be in a book by its onesies. So, there, that's how Eros Fell came about.

Now, the deets you're really interested in, and a little lick.  Read on!

Title: Eros Fell
Publisher: Fresh Whet INK
Word Count: 13205 (this is a short, and if I read a review about how you didn't know the length, there will be pudding! *snerk*)
Price: $1.99 (Makes a great V-day gift! Better than a stuffed teddy bear, IMO)

Blurb:  Eros, god of love, has always been depicted as pure; the innocent, chubby-faced cherub slapped on today's Valentine's Day cards.  Ever wonder how he got that way? Well, I'll tell you—he fell.

And he wasn't alone.

It's a secret they don't want you to know about, because if you did, you'd never look at Love the same again.  You want to know?  Promise not to tell?  Okay, I'll whisper it to you.  See, it was Eros who bit the apple....

Warning: 18+ Only! This story is an untold myth you never heard in high school, and includes graphic language, sex, and all that fun stuff between two Immortals. 

Excerpt:

Eros soared over the treetops, seeking out that flash of sanguine cloth, when he set eyes on the woman donning it.  The drape of her hair could never be forgotten, nor could the dark color of her skin.  He remembered the last time their lips met and, spurred on by their softness, he increased his pace.  The heavy gown bustled in her hands made escape on foot more difficult, and he landed before her easily.  She paused in her retreat, a small smile playing on full lips.

“Aneris?” The delight in his velvety voice was mired with confused.  “Why do you flee?”

A delirious laugh escaped her throat.

“Are we playing a game?” he asked in a curious tone.  He couldn’t believe she was here, but now that he’d seen her, he was glad she was.  “Come, my sweet.  Let me hold you.”

He folded her in his arms, but immediately noticed something had changed.  She was cool, no, cold, as though no heart beat in her breast.  And she did not smell as he remembered, though the scent was intoxicating all the same.  Desire stirred in his groin and, as never before, he was overcome with a primal urge to lay with the goddess of harmony.

She pushed from his hold and eyed him seductively.  The woman looked like Aneris, true enough, with the same heart-shaped face and obsidian eyes, but they trembled almost imperceptibly, an erratic little shiver. Her plump mouth, ripe and red as pomegranate seeds, parted to allow a slip of pink tongue to drag slowly across her upper lip, wetting it deliciously.

He took a step back to loose himself of her mesmeric gaze, for Harmony this was not.  “Who are you?”

“I’m your sweet, aren’t I, Eros?” she said in a lyrical voice.  “Your beloved Aneris, returned to you at last.”

He shook his head.  “Aneris is with Kadmos in Elysium.  I saw them on the Isle of the Blest with my own eyes many centuries ago.  Are you sent by Dolus?  This is a low trick, to be sure, even for him.”  Convinced she was a mere vision, he reached out and touched her hair as though he had not just held her close or heard her speak. She felt solid enough.

“Poor Love.  Gullible as ever,” she said, exasperated.  “I am no trick of Dolus, no shifted shape.  I appear before you as I truly am.”

“But you wear the face of another.  How is this so?”

She made a tut-tut sound.  “If I told you now there’d be no fun had.  And there is plenty of fun to be had, fair Eros.”

He narrowed his eyes, determined to find out who this goddess was that had aroused such desires in him.  “Tell me why you disrupt the humans with your mischief.”

She shrugged her shoulders, the move pressing the rounded tops of her breasts together in the scandalously low cut of the corset of her dress.  She did not continued until he lifted his gaze from the sight.  “It is my nature, Eros.  As it is yours to go about binding them with your,”—dark eyes rolled with disgust—“love.  Sticky sweet like nectar of the trees on the Mount.”

The ache in his groin had not yielded; her scent making his heart race.  “Tell me your name, goddess, or you will have the wrath of Zeus to face, and Aphrodite, besides.”

“Threats of Zeus?” she gasped and pressed her hand to her breast, “I shudder.  I’ll make you a deal, Eros.  A game, if you will.”

Curious, he nodded for her to continue.

“You wish me to cease my meddling with these useless peasants, yes?” She didn’t wait for his response.  “I am perfectly willing to do so, will surrender my powers to the great and mighty Zeus himself so that I may never make mischief for you again, permitted you excel in my challenge.  And as a bonus, I will gift you my name.”

He eyed her suspiciously, crossed his arms over his chest.  “What are the conditions?”

A corner of her mouth ticked up.  “For one-twelfth’s time of Apollo’s travels with the Sun, you must prevent my apples from hitting their marks.”  She held out her dainty palm, and a golden orb materialized there.  She handed the solid fruit to Eros, who studied it a moment before she plucked it back.  She tossed it in the air, caught it in her hand.  “You already know how to defeat them. Pierce them with your arrows and no catastrophe will befall a single mortal.  Ha!” she laughed, “I even tell you how to ensure your victory.  An easy enough task, yes?”

Easy? Of course it would be easy.  He was Eros, god of love, gifted with both speed and accuracy when stringing his darts and connecting with his targets.  He would effortlessly shoot her every sphere from the sky for one human hour.

“And when I win,” he clarified, voice deep and earnest, “I earn both your name and your promise to never cause the mortals ill again?”

She nodded, a sibylline grin on her mouth.

“And your oath is binding?”

“Binding.  Yes.”

“And what would you require should you win?”

A shoulder lifted nonchalantly.  “A simple thing, really.  Nothing you will miss.”

“Out with it, goddess.”

“A kiss.  One little kiss, Eros.”

He eyed her warily.  “And that’s all?”

“From the god of love? More than enough. Just remember, no other soul but me may touch the apples.  Have we a deal? ”

A warning blared in his head like trumpets heralding the arrival of Dawn, yet he could not resist the tempt of her lure.  Love would overcome this challenge as he conquered all else, and have her name when he was through.

The length of a human heartbeat passed and he’d changed from the mortal garb into lighter attire, white wings spread wide against red robes.  “When do we begin?”

The goddess morphed before him, no longer donning the heavy brocade and petticoats of the era but instead the shimmering silk gowns denoting her an eternal being.  Her wings expanded; two raven-black appendages with a span not quite as broad as his unfurled from her back.  Her hair twisted into a long, thick braid and then looped itself around her head like a crown. Eyes turned skyward, she marked the time. 

“Now.”

* * * *

So there you have it. Eros Fell!  Get your copy NOW! And don't forget to tell a friend. Happy Valentine's Day, peeps! And thanks for #LickingMyINK

AMAZON

ALLROMANCE

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SMASHWORDS

What's the Price of Perfection?

About a buck.

             *badum bum*

Hiya, folks and Happy Sunday!

Big things are coming down the pike this year—Kizzie and Xander are still up to no good, I'm working on a sequel to Different Shades of Gray, and my alter id, Isadora, is queing up for her first release hopefully by the end of the year. Not to mention I have 4 or 5 other titles I want to get out of my head. (All those characters + multiple plots + the general nonsense in my brain = Bedlam.) SO, I thought I'd get things started with my latest short, The Price of Perfection.

Before I get into that, I know some of you are saying, "Sable, when's Sake Bomb coming out?" (I keep getting this e-mail, along with "What happens next? You're killing me!") So I'll give you what I know—SOON. I promise.  LOL! Thanks everyone for your support of the series. I plan to do a post about some of the other questions (and anger) I've been getting with regard to the books, so check the blog again.

Okay, back to my first point, The Price of Perfection is out today *insert stadium cheering*.  It's a really quick read, but what I think is an interesting one. Available EXCLUSIVELY ON AMAZON! And if you're a Kindle Prime member, you can borrow it for FREE! K, I'll stop yammering. Here're the deets:

Title: The Price of Perfection
Publisher: eXcessica
Release date: 1/13/2012
Price: 99¢
Word Count: ~5750

Blurb: Vanessa Dupree has everything everyone thinks she could want—the man, the Maybach, the millions. Happiness? Well.... Now, she's found herself in a hotel lounge in Miami, celebrating at her pre-divorce party—alone. By the look of the hot young bartender, she won't stay that way for long. As the saying goes, “There’s always something you got to give up, to get everything you want.”  But what exactly is the price of perfection?

WARNING: ADULTS ONLY. Graphic language, anal sex, yadda yadda :)

Excerpt: “Hold it, please!” someone called. 

He slapped the button to close the doors.

Vanessa’s giggle died in her throat when firm lips slanted insistently over hers.  She returned the unfamiliar kiss, timidly at first, relaxing into it when he pressed the length of his body to hers, trapping her against the bamboo paneling of the elevator wall.  His hands skimmed down her sides to the fitted skirt, eager fingers inching the fabric up her thighs while still working his tongue inside her mouth.  With a bent knee he spread her legs as much as the tight material would allow.

The warm body molded to hers sent shivers rushing through her.  She savored the sweet flavor of brandy on his lips, wrapped her arms around his neck to finger the silky hair at his nape.  The soft, repeated dinging in the background made her vaguely aware they were still in the elevator.

“We’ll get caught,” she breathed, eyes closed as he pushed aside her moist panties. The kisses moved to her neck, nibbling and sucking all over, their panting breaths heavy and loud in the small space. His fingers spread her labia, lazily circled her wet lips.  He grazed her clit and she moaned, bucked when his thick digits pushed into her.

            “We might.”

* * * *

Yes, that was just a little lick to get the taste buds salivating. But it's just a buck—cheaper than Taco Bell without the side effects. So, ya hungry? Go forth and MASTICATE!! Hahaha.

BUT WAIT!

The Price of Perfection also appears in the Excessica Heartache anthology, which features the erotic writing of some of the finest in the genre, including the one and only Selena Kitt, Elliott Mabeuse,  D.B. Story, J.E. Taylor, Bekki Lynn, Giselle Renarde, Erin O’Riordan, G.R. Richards, J.L. Dillard, T. Harrison and Willsin Rowe.  The stories are absolutely amazing (in fact, I'm honored to have been included among them, they are soooo good), and at $4.99, it's a steal!   The product description says it all:

Erotic, romantic, poignant and wistful, this anthology collection from Excessica authors will thrill you, touch you, and stay with you. These stories dare to explore the pleasure and pain of a lover gone, the one that got away, the forbidden affair, a true love existing on borrowed time. These are tales of passionate affairs that cannot last, but they are exquisite gems while they do, and like the star that burns brightest, these stories burn fast, dazzle and smolder in the memory. 

You really don't want to miss these, and the anthology is available in multiple formats, so go grab your copy now!!

I'm off to INK, but as always, thanks for licking!

Toodles,

Sable J