Category Archives: books

Guest Blogger & Fellow Sister In Smut Sally Bend Talks Horror!!!

Sally Bend is my fellow Sister in Smut, and shares my love of horror! Obviously, Sally had to be a guest blogger around Halloween…so here is Sally!!! (think of The Shining, but much sexier as an intro!!!)

Although I usually write imaginative erotica, kinky tales of sin and submission, horror was my first literary love. I vividly remember the book that started it all, that copy of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary, sitting atop the paperback rack at the corner store. The colors, the lettering, the misspelled title, that cat staring back at me – I was absolutely enthralled. It did not take long for me to read through the works of King, Koontz, Matheson, and Masterton, before moving on to Laymon, Lumley, Skipp and Slade . . . and then sneaking home copies of the Hot Blood anthologies and feeling my entire world shift.

I never got farther than writing it – I was far too self-conscious to let anybody read it – but the first ‘adult’ or ‘mature’ short story I ever wrote was for that series.

So, why horror? And why erotic horror, in particular? Well, the truth is that I spent much of my life in hiding, burying my identity. I was so afraid of exposure, I practiced holding my emotions inside, lest they betray me, and I’m sad to say I got rather good at it. Unlearning those habits has not been easy, but writing allows me the freedom to express myself, and nowhere are passions and emotions stronger than in erotic horror.

Gender Swapped by the Haunted Brothel was my first work of erotic horror, and Fear, Love and Broken Things is my latest, but I stopped by today to talk about my twin tales, Alpha Surrender & Alpha Transformation . . .

Alpha Transformation excerpt

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” He scrambled at the walls, but it was no use. He could feel cracks and seams sliding beneath his fingers, but the walls were so slimy, there was no way he could find purchase. Instead, he kept sliding down until suddenly there was nothing beneath him. His heart dropped into his stomach as he fell through the air, crashing down into a hidden reservoir of water several feet below.

Even as he scrambled upwards, his head breaking the surface with a desperate gasp, he recognized how clean the water was. It smelled and tasted of that same rich, loamy smell he had noted above. It was sheer madness to drink it, of course, but he’d already swallowed enough in his fall to kill him if it were poisoned, and all he felt was stronger, more alive than ever before.

Better yet, as bobbed there, slowly treading water, he found his eyes slowly adjusting to the green glow of the luminous moss that covered the ceiling. It was hardly a bright glow, but having grown up in the darkness of the Church slums, it was rather comforting. Almost like being back home with Brandi.

“What was that?” Something had brushed his leg from below. He stared into the water, twisting and turning about to see all around, but the ripples he generated made it impossible to see anything. Twice more he felt something brush his leg, and each time it seemed to rise higher than the last. That strange, alien touch terrified him, and yet it left behind a pleasurable tingle.

That’s when it pulled him under.

With his head beneath the water, he could see a pair of green tentacles wrapped around his legs. They were so startling, so unexpected, that he was momentarily distracted from his panic – until they coiled about him, slithering from ankle to thigh, until suddenly they were holding him under. He thrashed against them, desperate to escape, but they simply held him in place. They didn’t squeeze or pull any farther, they just held him there.

Just as he was about to black out, they seemed to thrust him upwards, allowing him a gasping breath of air, before pulling him back under. This time they pulled his legs apart, leaving him awkwardly splayed beneath the water. He reached down to grab one, to yank it off his leg, but his hands slid right off. Bent over as he was, though, he could see the new tentacle slowly rising up from below, coming up between the other two.

Another thrust, another breath, and he was back down below.

This time he found a fourth tentacle waiting, floating before him, the slender tip of its appendage bent in a come-hither kind of motion. He instinctively knew what it wanted, but there was no way he could do it.

He was an Alpha. He loved, he embraced, he penetrated.

It didn’t work the other way around.

That tentacle darted in faster than he could blink and expelled a bubble of fresh, earthy air against his lips. He reflexively sucked it in and found himself refreshed. When the tentacle below began gently stroking his balls, though, he just as quickly lost that breath in an exclamation of surprise.

Fortunately, the face tentacle, as he was coming to think of it, was there to feed him another bubble.

Stephen simply floated there, several feet below water, held in place by tentacles that wanted something of him he had never given another. He and Brandi had talked about surrendering to the Beast, but that was for a purpose. That was to obtain the cure. That was to save Brandi’s life.

Really, though, was this any different? If he didn’t surrender, he would die here, his body forever lost to befoul the wondrous waters. He was an Alpha, but that had to mean more than just being on top, being dominant, being in control. The desires of women like Brandi were as alien to him as these tentacles, but it occurred to him now that always being in charge was exhausting. It had been years since he’d last let down his guard, half a lifetime since he hadn’t felt the comforting burden of caring for another life.

This time, when the tentacle delivered its bubble of clean air, it remained there, pressed against his lips, waiting for an invitation. It meant surrender. It meant giving himself up to an intimacy he neither wanted nor needed, but one that would allow him to save the one he loved. The other tentacle was becoming more insistent as well, pressing its tip against his anus, not poking inside, just sitting there against the tightness of his entrance.

To surrender was to lose something of himself, but to resist was to doom two lives to a lonely, painful death.

Sally Bend is a genderfluid author and reviewer of erotica, romance, and genre fiction who loves dragons, unicorns, ancient treasures, dominant women, and pretty boys.

AND!!!

For Halloween, you can get Sally’s books…

FOR FREE!!!

Velvet by Decadent Guest Blogger, Asrai Devin

Asrai Devin is a brilliant writer, and one of the most generous souls on Twitter who loves to share her fellow writers’ work. But like I said, her own work is so decadent and compelling (I have included several pieces on SexySmut), that I asked her to please share a piece with me for my blog and am thrilled that she did! What she wrote was “Velvet”…

Velvet

by

Asrai Devin

Allie knelt on the bed. Her knees pressed into the white, velvet blanket.
“Look over your shoulder at me.”
She glanced back at Garrett, looking for his approval. The camera obscured his expression. The shutter clicked in time with his finger.
“Pull up your skirt so I can see your sexy panties.”
Allie flipped up the checked fabric to expose her ass. She looked back, biting her bottom lip.
“Spread your legs, a little. Let me see between.”
She heard the squish in the silent room as she parted her thighs. Showing herself was so hot. She’d come when he posted them online. He liked when she sat on his knee while they read the comments and he stroked her. Or sometimes she touched herself.
She pulled her panties tight to highlight the outline of her pussy.
“Nice,” Garrett murmured. Click, click, click. “A bit of a bad girl today. Your panties are all wet. Take them off.”
She rolled to her back and slid them off her legs.
“Blow everyone a kiss.”
She pressed her palm to her lips then blew the kiss to his camera. “That’s for you.”
“I love you baby girl. One more pose.”
“Just one?” she pouted.
“We had a request. I need you on your knees, legs spread.”
Allie got into position then arched her back. “Like this?”
“Really close, angel. Use your fingers to open yourself.”
“Is this why you shaved me today?”
“It is. Show yourself.”
Garrett pushed the camera lens between her legs while she peeled her velvet lips open. The soft click of the camera filled her. She felt the drips of arousal seep from her.
“All done, angel.”
She flipped to her back and searched his face for judgement. “Was I a good girl?” She put two fingers between her curved lips.
He set the camera aside. “Yes, angel. You are a very good girl.”
He settled over her to give her a reward.

For more of the decadent Asrai Devin, find her on her website, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.

Also, I cannot wait to get my hands on her story, It’s Complicated!!!

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Guest Blogger KD Grace Tells Us What It Feels Like…

I am literally gushing! I love hosting my friends, and I am gushing all over K D Grace right now! I met her when I attended my first Eroticon, and she was so lovely and gracious. I developed a friendship with her, and it is something I really treasure because I admire her so much. Between two continents, we have managed to stay in constant contact. So when she comes out with a book she wants to promote? I am onboard because she is my friend, and because she has the chops! She is so prolific, and The Tutor demonstrates that–let KD tell you all about it!!!

What Does it Feel Like?
That must have felt amazing! I can’t imagine how that felt! I wonder what that felt like? Oooh! That couldn’t have felt very good! Did you feel that? What does it feel like? How many times have we asked someone, that big F question? We don’t usually mean what does something physically feel like, when we use one of the F phrases. Most of the time any of the “feel like” phrases means we want that experience, we want to understand, to empathize, to share it, to let someone know we get their experience and if we don’t, at least we’d like to try.
The feeling phrases are connecting phrases, they’re a mode in which we commiserate with the rest of the human race, they’re a chance to be more intimate with each other. In a lot of ways they’re like the secret password that gets us into “Club Human.” We seldom think of them in terms of true physicality, though when something is physical, we tend to think of it as far more real than when it’s just a nebulous idea or emotion that “touches us.”
And when the feeling, the touching words are meant in a physical way, the somehow seem more intimate. Physical touch isn’t just for anyone, it’s for people we trust, people we know a little better, people we might want to know a whole lot better. But what happens when two people who are attracted to each other can’t actually touch? Can they still find a way to be intimate? What exactly is intimacy anyway, and is it really dependent on being able to touch each other physically? I wanted to explore the elements of intimacy in my novel, The Tutor. How much of what binds us to someone and what makes us close depends on being able to physically touch?

In my novel The Tutor, I wanted to explore what it feels like when someone can’t feel, in the literal sense of the word. Renowned, but reclusive, sculptor Alexander “Lex” Valentine, is extremely haphephobic. Since the car accident that took his mother’s life when he was a child and nearly took his as well, he had been unable to tolerate the touch of another human being, nor is he able to touch anyone himself. To do so causes a severe physical reaction. Lex lives in a world of forced isolation for his own protection.
Enter Kelly Blake – struggling novelist moonlighting as a sex tutor, who has a completely hands-off policy with her clients. Kelly is just what Lex needs, and when the two meet, the sparks fly. But is it possible intimacy to develop and love to grow when two people can’t touch each other?
When physical touch is impossible, intimacy may become a powerful work of art or a devastating nightmare—but, above all, it’s an act of trust.
Here is a little excerpt.

What Does it Feel Like?
“Look I don’t expect you to deal with what a fucked up mess I am. I realized that what I really want to know is what it feels like, what you feel like, what any woman feels like when she’s with a man, or even when she touches herself, and I have no one I would feel comfortable asking without wondering the whole time if they thought that by my asking I had given them permission to try and fix me. Does that make any sense?”
She had little time to do more than nod before he continued. “Oh I’ve watched enough porn that I get that it feels really good. I’ve read enough erotica to get some picture of how it’s supposed to be, but my take on it’s always one-sided,” he raised his hand and wiggled his fingers as though to demonstrate. “I can’t know anything but my own touch, certainly I can’t feel anything else, so I want you to tell me. I want you to answer my questions. I want you to tell me what I would feel if I touched you, what you would feel if I touched you. As for what I would feel if you touched me, well,” he shrugged and offered her a smile that seemed slightly forced, “for that I’ll just have to use my imagination.”
She took a deep breath, as though she were about to dive under water. “Okay, well, I’ll start with my lips because lovers often start there. I would have made sure they were moist for you before you kissed them, but not so wet as to be off-putting, and you would have done the same. And your first kisses would be tentative, if you’re really good, almost like a feather lighting against my mouth softly and repeatedly until I’m breathless for the want of more; and then I would part my lips to give you more surface area so that we could feel each other better.” She chuckled softly as she realized they’d both raised their fingers to their mouths. “And then we would both press harder and rub harder. The more surface area we touched the more we’d want and, I think lips swell, not just from the pressure, but in an effort to create that surface area, and when they can swell no more, when I feel like I want to completely take my lover into my mouth, then I would open to him and there would be a whole new surface area, wet and slick and warm, there would be a whole new motion when our tongues discover each other. I think a kiss reflects what happens in penetrative sex. It’s sort of an intimation, if you will,” her gaze locked on him, and for the first time she noticed just how blue his eyes were, “a promise of things to come.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “I’ve thought of that in my art. I’ve thought of the interchange we make with mouths and cocks and vaginas.” He struggles with the last word
“It’s okay to call it a pussy or a cunt or whatever works for you.” She said.
He laughed softly. “How the hell would I know?”
“Well,” she stretched out on the countertop and rolled onto her side, resting her head on her hand. “you just have to try them out and see how they fit your mouth.”
This time they both laughed. “If they fit my mouth, I wouldn’t have to worry about what words I used, would I?”
“Good point,” she said.
“Not quite, but getting there fast, thank you.” Again, they both laughed, a strangely relaxed laugh under the bizarre circumstances.
“The thing is,” she said, rolling onto her back and staring up at the long rack of copper bottom pans above her head, “words are often as important in sex, and as erotic, as touch. I write in my other life, and I find that while some of my characters get turned on by waxing poetic between the sheets, others get hot by talking dirty.”
“How does your cunt feel when some fucker talks dirty to you,” he said, though not without a hearty blush.
“That would depend on the fucker and the circumstances and how badly I wanted to ride his cock.”
“And if it was a fucker whose cock you really wanted to ride, a fucker who was hard and heavy for you? What words would he use, and what response would he elicit?
“It wouldn’t hurt for him to observe out loud what he sees about my body’s state of arousal, and how he admires it.”
“You mean like how lovely your breasts are when your nipples are so taut that even your areola are visible through that shirt, which I imagine feels like a caress every time you inhale. You mean like the way your lips are parted and moist. You’ve not completely shut your mouth for the past five minutes, the way you rock your hips, almost but not quite secretly, and grind you bottom against the countertop. Is that what you mean?”
“Jesus! We shouldn’t be doing this.” She sat bolt upright on the surface and then froze as though someone had hit the pause button. “Alex?”
The man perched on the edge of the counter, just far enough away that she couldn’t easily touch him. He had kicked his shoes off and his own nipples peaked to bullet points through his white polo shirt. That would have been enough to hold her attention indefinitely had it not been for the heel of his hand stroking the very obvious, very anxious erection through his jeans.
It was all right. It was fine, she told herself. She’d had more than a few occasions where her job involved watching and coaching someone while they masturbated. This was just her job. That’s all.
“It’s more obvious with me what I feel,” he said, raking her body with a hooded gaze. “And your nipples, well you could just be cold. Please tell me what you feel when you see me like this, when we talk like this.”
She moved to the edge of the counter giving him space, then motioned him onto it and she opened her leg. “If I weren’t wearing trousers, if you could see my panties, you’d know that I’m wet.” She nodded to his erection. “You’d know that the thought of what you’re doing, the sight of how your body is responding to mine, is making me wetter.” She cupped her breasts in turn, through the white blouse. “Every part of me feels heavy, Alex. My breasts feel like my bra can no longer contain them. My nipples ache. And my lips,” she touched her mouth, and then, holding his gaze, moved her hand down to rest on the crotch of her trousers. “My lips are swollen, so swollen and slippery and ready to be penetrated.” She nodded first to his mouth and then to his erection. “Do I want the fucker to give it to me hard and deep in my cunt? What do you think?”
“Oh God,” he managed. Then he stopped talking altogether. His breath came in tight little grunts and gasps as he moved against his hand, holding her in his gaze as surely as if he held her in his embrace; and it was in that instant, the instant she slid her hand down the front of her trousers and into her panties an action he mirrored, that she knew neither of them would make it out of here intact. She wanted to run, but she didn’t. She wanted to take off her clothes and feel his gaze all over her body, but she didn’t. She wanted to demand that he strip for her, that he come just for her eyes, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She could only cup and grope her breasts until they hurt. She could only stroke herself while she watched him do the same.
The space around them crackled with their energy, and their desperate efforts to breathe were the only sounds beyond the stroke of skin against fabric. In a hungry attempt at relief, they both rocked and bucked, mirror images of each other with one hand down the front of their trousers while the other groped and cupped and tweaked and pinched whatever part of their anatomy it came in contact with. Then breathing stopped, time stopped. Everything around them disappeared until they saw nothing but each other, locked in each other’s gaze, more physical than any embrace Kelly had ever felt, and it was enough. Heaven help them, it was enough. He came first by a split second, roaring like a wounded lion, arching back until she feared he’d either break his neck or fall off the counter. But the sight of him so vulnerable in his passion, the fact that even in his release, he kept his eyes on her was all she could handle, and she convulsed against her own hand, convulsed as though she would break apart, never taking her eyes off him, never breaking that connection.

Buy The Tutor Now!!!

eBook:

Totally Bound Publishing

Print:

Totally Bound Publishing

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked coast to coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also working out at the gym – she has a thing for kettle bells — reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.

K D has erotica published with Totally Bound, SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, To Rome with Lust, and The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition, Interviewing Wade are all available.

Find K D Here:

Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/

http://www.thebritbabes.co.uk Facebook

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Guest Blogger Adrea Kore Flashes Us Today!!!

Social media is often criticized, but it is through it that I met my guest and friend, Adrea Kore. Adrea is luminous, and the first person I have known to do a right on American accent! She is a brilliant, brilliant writer of all forms–and today she is going to flash us! I mean prep us all to enjoy the art of flash fiction. Get comfortable, and savor every word of hers…

I’m delighted to be here with F. Leonora, as her guest blogger. As a regular contributor to her Friday Flash monthly meme, I want to share some thoughts on the short-short story or “flash.” Sometimes also referred to as micro-fiction, flash fiction is the quickie of erotica.

I started writing seriously, and getting published, in the erotica genre in late 2012 – so I still feel like a relative newcomer. My very first story accepted for paid publication was actually flash fiction – on a femme-porn and erotica site called For the Girls. Then Go Deeper Press accepted Dangerous Curves for their flash fiction anthology, Dirty Little Numbers. dirtylittlenos_cover2 Of the twenty or so paid story publications in anthologies and online since then, about a quarter of them have been for my flash fiction. A fan of both short stories and poetry from way back when I was in pigtails, it’s no surprise that I succumbed to the allure of “flashing” as soon as I discovered that such a thing existed.

Although length definitions differ for flash fiction, most publications seem to opt for 500 words as the maximum word-count. Some insist on even leaner stories, cinching in the word limit at 200 or even 100 words.

The practice of writing flash fiction, with the restraints of that svelte word-limit, can hone your powers of description and storytelling in wonderful ways. Each word has to work harder to convey meaning and emotion – which inevitably makes us better writers when we return to longer fiction. Whether on the page or in the boudoir, it seems I’m definitely into restraint.

The more flash fiction I read, the more incredible variations I see in style, expression and tone. A lot can happen in five hundred words. The form seems to deftly distill a writer’s style and voice, so that the reader may experience it more vividly.

Flash fiction is a tablet and mobile-friendly fiction, a way to showcase your style to your readers, which is also why I’d recommend giving flashing a go and getting some on your blog or website. It’s fiction for the nomadic, distracted population with truncated attention spans that we have supposedly become. That said, as a reader, I approach them more like poems, preferring focused time to contemplate them. Writer Vanessa Gebbie describes them as “a flash of narrative lit up, then extinguished,” but also stresses that a good flash is “never incomplete.”

I’ve observed that a compelling flash embodies elements of both poetry and film.

Like a film, it may show the reader crucial narrative “beats,” as quick cuts from one image to the next in order to tell its story. These could be close-ups or wide shots, but not lingering or panning shots – you simply don’t have the luxury of wordiness and leisurely pacing for too much of the latter. The reader sees these images via a few crafted words and sentences before moving onto the next element, but the information lingers in the retina, the memory, gathering detail, momentum and meaning. Like a film, it may also utilize dialogue as a narrative device to progress the plot with fewer words than descriptive narrative.

Like a poem, flash fiction may harness imagery, word play and metaphor to convey narrative, subtext, and atmosphere in compressed form. Additionally, the use of poetic language allows for multiple layers of meaning, using the same cluster of words. This approach allows you to say and suggest far more than you may initially think is possible within that leaner number of words. Like a poem, pared-back language is desirable; part of revising drafts may be to eliminate excess words such as “the,” “and” and “now.”

I’m comfortable writing flash in the zone of 400 – 500 words. It’s amazing how much scope five-hundred words allows to create a story arc and some steamy erotic detail. A 200-word limit for me is like trying to make a luscious cake with only flour and water. Given a 100-word limit, I may as well (and more happily) be writing poetry. I’ll leave those shorter versions for more hardcore flashers. Give different word limits a try, and see what works for you.

I once read somewhere that the Chinese term for flash fiction translates as “the cigarette-long” story – something you can mull over on a cigarette break, taking about as long to read as it does to finish your smoke. As a non-smoker, and a lover of coffee, perhaps I’d rename it the espresso-long story.

Here are my tips for crafting compelling flash fiction. Like any “tips” list, they are not prescriptive, but rather intended to provoke thought; whether they work for you may depend on your style.

Work your verbs hard

Lazy, vague verbs such as “went” tend to immediately require adverbs to prop them up. Why write “He went quickly towards her,” when you can write “He careened into her?” Why write that your character “said” anything, when instead they can leer, whisper, insinuate, proposition? A specific verb can convey so much about a character – how they walk, talk and kiss. Sweat the verbs, and you’ll need less adverbs, and less words generally.

Choose adjectives like they’re gourmet chocolates

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They’re expensive, so you want to choose the perfect ones with just the right flavors for your story. To choose too many will weigh your story down and make it too fat to fit the flash format.

Build atmosphere with quick shots of imagery and word-play

This is one of my favorite ways to write flash fiction – take your central themes and refract your imagery through the story, like different facets on a cut diamond. They’ll all sparkle in a slightly different way, but make the whole more dazzling. My latest flash, Hurdy-Gurdy Love, takes the carnival theme as a metaphor for a relationship and riffs on that in several layers.

Start near the middle of your story, not the beginning.

I borrowed this one from flash fiction maestro David Gaffney. You don’t have space for preamble. Crash land the reader closer to the middle of the story in terms of action. You can make nimble references to backstory when necessary. See here for how that can be achieved.

Use dialogue to convey character and give narrative momentum

Some writers excel at using dialogue in this way. You could try writing a flash that is ninety-percent dialogue, if you’ve ever fancied yourself the screenwriting type. Or you can see how I use fragments of dialogue here, in Celluloid Dreams to convey character, backstory and theme.

Maximise the function of your Title

Your title is a bonus few extra words for free, so make them count. Like a well-made poem, a flash title (the title of any work of art, really) can be employed to reveal another element of your story, or create the lure of a double meaning. I love a flash that, once read, has me returning to the title to ponder, and find something new.

The sentence fragment is your friend

One, two, three-word sentences seem right at home in micro-fiction. Micro-sentences. They can work well scattered through “proper sentences.” To convey fragmented perspective. Suspense. Movement, fast or slow. Futility. Finality. See, I’m doing it here, and it’s so much fun.

Pay special attention to the last line

David Gaffney beat me to it, but this tip probably shows up on all flash fiction craft articles. After readers devour your flash fiction, give them a final line that will linger in their senses; an aftertaste, an aroma that doesn’t make this a read they can easily forget.

Gaffney is firmly against flash fiction that deploys a punch line or last-minute gag ending, saying that a “story that gives itself up in the last line is no story at all, and after reading a piece of good micro-fiction we should be struggling to understand it, and, in this way, will grow to love it as a beautiful enigma.”

I agree, although I may have been guilty of writing at least one punch-line flash along the way. Sometimes, they are just fun, especially when the topic is playfully sexual.

Create some Negative Space

Just as if it were an abstract sculpture or a charcoal sketch, give your flash some negative space as part of its overall effect. One way you do this is to eliminate and pare back excess words, as I’ve mentioned. Another way is to play with ambiguity, or place some spaces in the narrative for the reader to enter. This is particularly effective, I believe, in erotic flash fiction. Let the reader catch a glimpse of themselves in a hotel room mirror. Let them recall that exquisite orgasm through your erotic detail of a mouth, a hand, a sensation. Vanessa Gebbie aptly surmises:

“A great piece of flash fiction creates a complete world in very few words, draws you in, and makes you complicit. You become the creator too, in partnership, filling in the gaps the writer leaves behind … And because it is, to some extent, ‘yours’, it has a lasting effect.”

There’s lots of great flash fiction available online to read, and I’ve provided a few links below. I love Leonora’s meme here , because as a writer I often respond well to an intriguing image as a prompt. If you’ve not done this before, give it a try. Writing a flash story can also be a good warm-up exercise after a writing dry spell, or to begin exploring an idea for a (longer) story.

So, take that spark of an idea, set that pen on fire and light up a little narrative with your own writerly brilliance.

fire_pen_by_independentpen

Adrea Kore is a writer, poet, and developmental editor, focusing her lens on female sexuality and creative expression. Her erotic flash fiction, short stories and poetry have been published online and in numerous anthologies. Most recently, her poem “Made in Darkness” landed in Lustily Ever After, erotic re-tellings of myth and fairytale.

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Adrea enjoys being distracted from her long-term writing projects by short term pleasures such as this article. She collects corsets and antique tea-cups. Find her wearing one and sipping from the other here, and browse her flash fiction gallery from the menu.

Look out for her sexy story “Dance for Me,” featured in the newly-released erotic anthology For the Men: And the Women who Love Them (edited by Rose Caraway). Available on Amazon, Smashwords, iBooks and coming soon in audio-book format.

Read Adrea’s latest post about her story in the anthology here.

Craft Articles

David Gaffney

Vanessa Gebbie

Online Sites / Journals for Flash Fiction

Erotica Readers & Writers Association

Malin James

Flash Fiction

Matter Press

Guest Blogger MK Meredith Is More Glamourous Than A Movie Star!!!

I am so happy to have the wonderful MK Meredith as my guest today! MK is infectiously lovely, and when she shared a penchant for hot romance with me, I knew I had made a new friend! Her Facebook posts glow with happiness and positivity, and I just think she is wonderful! Without further ado, here she is just as glamourous as any of the retro movie stars!!!

MK on the big screen? Ha! I am thrilled to have been invited by Leonora to participate on her blog! As you all know, she is an absolute delight, and I’m so fortunate to have her in my writing community.

My name is MK Meredith, and I write contemporary romance that promises an emotional ride on heated sheets.

For the first time since publishing, the first book in my Malibu Sights series is on sale! And not just a small sale, but marked down from $3.99 to 99¢! I’m so excited.

I don’t know why this excites me so, but it does. Kind of like when I find a great pair of heels on sale, or the last large spoonful of peanut butter in the jar. Or a new movie star to add to my hero inspiration file!

The film industry intrigues me.

The glamour, the lifestyle, and the romance of it all when it’s good. The back stabbing and money hungry wasteland when it’s bad.

If you’ve ever read Adventures in the Screen Trade by William Goldman, then you’re already familiar with the circus sometimes put on in Hollywood. I couldn’t believe it, but it only served to pull me in further. I was the rubber necking driver slowly passing by an accident, or the gawping bystander at a train wreck. I couldn’t help but to keep looking, or in this case keep reading. And then I wanted to write about it.

The actual money spent, sometimes wasted, to make people happy during movie production is beyond crazy to me. You’d think one must act professionally, but it seems in Hollywood, the bigger your name is, the more crap they’ll put up with.

And don’t get me started on the politics, the reach arounds, and the payoffs. LOL!

But, there is also a yearning, a drive to create something beautiful, something memorable. To tell a story worth watching. I get that, because I truly want to write stories worth reading.

And I LOVE watching movies. I’m a movie junky. I’m not picky, nor do I attest to having any kind of refined taste. I love them all! I watch them and dissect them as often as I can fit into my schedule. I also have my Hollywood heartthrob favorites like Gerard Butler, model David Gandy, and right now I’m diggin’ Tom Ellis. So it seemed like a fun idea to write a series wrapped around all the drama and inspired by my favorite media men, which is how my Malibu Sights series all started. The inspiration for A-list actor Gage Cutler in Malibu Betrayals was Gerard Butler and sex-pot producer Roque Gallagher in Malibu Secrets was inspired by David Gandy.

As many do at one point or another, I used to dream about being an actress, starring opposite such swoon worthy leading man. When I was very young, I remember watching Martha Plimpton and River Phoenix in the movie Running on Empty, thinking, “I could do that.”

Ha!

The hell I could.

And here are my top five reasons why I could never be ‘in the movies’.

#5. The writers would hate me…cause I’m a writer. I’d question every character arc, every story line development, and then wonder why they were killing off my character by the second scene when I was originally the heroine. Ha!

#4. I’m 5’9” with the shoulders of a linebacker. On screen that translates to a female Andre the Giant. Tom Cruise would barely reach nipple level, leaving us to have very awkward conversations or him on stilts. Neither works well on screen.

#3. I don’t like getting up early. From books I’ve read to celebrity interviews to friends in the biz, I hear of the hours that they need to keep. I can stay up into the early hours of morning, but I can’t get up in the early hours of the morning. I’m always so confused when people say the words ‘get up’ and ‘4 a.m.’ in the same sentence.

#2. I have resting B face with the Elvis scowl. You know the look, the one where my lip pulls up at one corner and nowhere else? Yeah…that’s me. Unfortunately it’s a go to face that I have no control over. Anytime I see a candid photo of myself, there I am looking like I’m recreating a pissed off rendition of Jail House Rock. The paparazzi would have a hay day.

#1. My hearts attached to my vagina. If I had to do a love scene and kiss someone, I’d fall in love with them. And I can’t have that. I’m already very happily married to a man who likes me in spite of myself, and I want to keep it that way. LOL!

So you see, it isn’t to be. Plus I don’t think I can act worth a damn. So there’s that, too.

But I do love a good story, and I love romance. So guess what? I write books like Malibu Betrayals.

Blurb

In Malibu Betrayals, screenwriter Samantha Dekker’s been burned by the Hollywood scene in the worst way, so it’s no surprised that she isn’t ready for love. But what the hell’s a woman to do when love is ready for her—and with the paparazzi in hand? Especially when that love comes in the form of heart-stoppingly-sexy, A-list actor Gage Cutler. This is her chance to write a whole new ending. No matter if she’s one to leap toward her future or tiptoe, she’ll first have to let go of her past.

So whether through books or movies, the stories are being told. Go grab your favorite one and give yourself a little HEA! And tell me your favorites! I want to know. ☺

Hugs, loves, and peanut butter!

Excerpt ~ Malibu Betrayals

“Tell me more about your feelings toward these crazy Cutler fans.”

Ignoring him, she looked him over from across the table, and purposely biting her lower lip, pushed her silverware around and then lined each piece up in straight lines once more. “Do you know your eyes are sometimes green and sometimes blue?”

He cocked a brow. “Really? You want to talk about my eyes?”

That showed what he knew; his eyes really were alluring. She raised her brows.

Gage stared at her a moment and grinned, taking a long swallow from his glass. “Fine, last I checked my eyes were blue.”

Adrenaline emboldened her as she held his gaze. “Not when you’re coming; then they’re green.”

Gage choked.

Sam’s heart lurched and her face flushed a few thousand degrees hotter. Flirting with him was its own kind of high, and she wanted more.

A bark of laughter broke from his lips, and he tried to muffle it with his napkin, knowing security wasn’t too far off. Gage leaned in. “To be honest, I’ve never seen my eyes when I—”

Sam threw her hand up. “No, God, don’t say it again.” She squirmed in her seat as heat flushed her skin. She wasn’t sure if it was from her embarrassment or his gaze.

He slid those damned eyes up and down her body, at least what was visible above the table, and took bite of his scallops, chewing while he teased, “Are you kidding? I can totally get on board with this change in topic.”

“I’m not changing the topic.” Her face warmed.

He cocked his brow again. “I want to hear more about the color of my eyes, and anything to do with ‘coming.’”

Well, she did start it. Sam snatched a piece of ice from her glass and sucked the end of it. Then, with slow purposeful movements, she ran the cube over her jaw and down the side of her neck. If they were going to keep this fun and playful, she needed to do her part. Besides, pushing the envelope was more fun than she’d ever imagined. She might just need to try it more often. Her voice low, forcing him to lean closer, she said, “Your eyes are blue when you’re calm, in control. But when you get hot, when your body tightens with wanting, they glow a light cyan. As you get closer—you know what I mean by closer.”

Gage all but lay across the table, paying rapt attention to her every word. He nodded with the slightest of movement.

“When your skin slides against my skin, my breasts pressed against your chest, your body so tight, so hot that it can’t handle even, one…more…stroke. Bam!” She slapped the table.

Gage jumped and she laughed. He grabbed his napkin to wipe his brow and downed the rest of his water in one long swallow.

“Green.”

“What?” Gage asked.

She tried not to enjoy herself too much, but he deserved it. If he wasn’t going to let her off the hook, she’d put him on one.

***

MK Meredith writes single title contemporary romance promising an emotional ride on heated sheets. She believes the best route to success is to never stop learning.

Her lifelong love affair with peanut butter continues. Only two things come close in the battle for her affections: gorgeous heels and maybe Gerard Butler…or was it David Gandy? Who is she kidding? Her true loves are her husband and two children who have survived her SEA’s (spontaneous explosions of affection) and live to tell the tale. The Meredith’s live in the D.C. area with their two large fur babies…until the next adventure calls.

Connect with MK on her website, or

Sexy Black Friday Excerpt and Book Sale!!!

I am happy to share a couple of things with you this Black Friday. First, I have a new story up on Kinkly, called simply enough–“Black Friday!” Here is an excerpt:

There was a gaggle of sex shops in the area of town where they were, and ironically there were not a great deal of shoppers considering it was Black Friday.

Lina and Terrence were both happy that they had the day after Thanksgiving off. They both had high-stress jobs, and looked forward to having some down time together.

And they planned to make the most of it.

Lina’s phone was their power tool. She had a series of email-only discounts that they planned to take advantage of. When they walked into the store, they were greeted by several employees who wanted to help them, but holding Terrence’s hand, Lina quietly led him to the curtained off area section to show him her choice.

His eyes were wide and beaming.

“You want that?!” Terrence said.

Lina smiled. “I have imagined what I can do with it.”

Click here to read the rest.

***

My second thing is my pub Riverdale Avenue Books is having a Black Friday sale! That means that you can have a copy of TIE ME UP and/or BASES LOADED half off–just use the code TGIVING2015, and click on the book covers below to purchase through December 1! They make great gifts!

New Article "Clementine" and More!

Recently, I have been excited to have new articles on Lelo, Slutist, Kinkly, Romance Beat and my suit fetish guest post for Girl on the Net. With the addition of Bases Loaded–where you can find a sexy excerpt on Lelo’s blog by Oleander Plume!–I added a books page to my blog. I have now added an articles page, where you can find all of my new articles. My newest “Clementine,” is up on the Kinkly website. I expanded this sticky note, and the story wrote itself from there! Here is an excerpt:

Clementine had not even allowed herself to think about him in her most secret thoughts. But three gin cocktails in, she was no longer so controlled. Alex was taken, but she could not resist anymore in her uninhibited state, half lying on a glorious love seat at the vintage bar. She could not resist the idea of parting her knees. In fact she did so, right there. The softness of her own skin-to-skin contact sent prickling waves of excitement to her core.

She got up from the love seat, practically stumbling she was so drunk with imagined desire. Clementine ran her hand over her hip, and let it move up slowly to caress her side breast. Her fingers trickled over to her nipple, and she caressed it just once. To anyone looking, it looked like she was fixing her dress.

“You’re gorgeous,” The man walking toward her a few moments later declared.
Clementine wondered if he saw her touch herself a moment ago, as she looked up from her smartphone and waited for the car she had ordered. She smiled at him softly, as she always did when a man told her she was gorgeous, beautiful, whatever.

“Are you waiting for a car as well?”

He lifted his phone up, and Clementine tilted her head to the side. She shook her head as he showed her the app on his phone which revealed the same driver, and the same car as she expected.

“Yes,” she said, smiling nervously. “Looks like we are waiting for the same one.”

Read the rest here!

photo courtesy of Kinkly

Psst…I Listen…

When one of my good friends told me that she listened to audiobooks a few years ago, I was surprised. I had not even ventured e-books at that time, I have long since popped my cherry on that. I am such a bibliophile, that it would be embarrassing the amount of books that I want to carry around with me most of the time! So e-books made it easier for me to both carry the books, and to switch from reading one to the other. But I did not judge my friend…that much. I even began to recommend books for her to listen to.
My audiobook cherry was popped when another good friend Malin James , had one of her stories on the Kiss Me Quicks narrated by Rose Caraway. Bound Unbound was the first story I listened to…go take a listen…I will wait…
Back? Okay, how could that not become an addiction?! I am still a devoted KMQ listener, and am psyched that the newest story is by Janine Ashbless…since I am not so patiently waiting to read her follow up to Cover Him With Darkness which I posted about here.
Considering an Audible membership was something I pondered while listening to the Kiss Me Quicks. I figured I would get one book, and be done.
I was not.
I did get several books Rose narrated–cannot wait for her Dirty Thirty audiobook to come out! Then I started branched out with Lily Horne who I follow on Twitter, this is her latest Audible release…and then more narrators…and different genres too…
Sometimes it is the most soothing thing to have a story told to you. It is a completely different experience from reading a book in your hands, or on a e-reader. The voice is given to you, and you follow it wherever it goes. Lily agrees with me, “Sometimes we just want someone else to read to us. Tell us a story. Allow us to sit back & be taken through words & a voice into the land that the book creates. Audio should somehow give yet another dimension to that world.”
Also, the story does not end until you stop listening. No more bumping into strangers on the street, because your head is in your book. If I missed that, I still have fiddling with my phone to replace it! The downside is books finish faster because I am insatiable, and then I need another to replace it. Which does not bother me in the least. Audible has no problem coming up with deals for me to indulge my need!
I listen now a lot to other storytelling podcasts, one for the New Yorker for example. I love this article Rose wrote about audiobooks, and the evolution of reading.
I like listening, and you see? Birds of the same feather flock together–now my friend and I suggest audiobooks for each other. Today, I bought five new novels on an Audible sale for the first book in a series…you see where this is going!