Category Archives: guest blogger

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

Wicked Wednesday #199 — Books

Polly leaned against the stack of books in Colin’s library. Watching him, she was happy that she and Oscar had taken a break.

She was in Colin’s downtown New York apartment which was near the Strand, and thus he often got books there. In addition to his first editions and rare books—Colin could not resist a book. He had the same lust for them, that he had had for blood when they were going their faux vampire days as young lovers.

Now Colin was a professional collector of things, and right now it felt like he was collecting her. Polly stopped breathing when he stood in front of her.

“Why are you staring at me?” he asked.

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Colin moved away from her, because she had let him drift away so many times before. She was not sure if he felt the shift, if the shift was hers alone. But her lips remained parted, while she said nothing.

He smiled at her, and turned around. Polly pressed her lips to his neck, and closed her eyes taking in his scent. Clean and crisp, like cotton of the his shirt.

“Don’t,” he said, even as his neck pushed against her lips. Polly pulled away, and bit her lip. Colin turned and looked at her, she let her eyes fall to the floor. He put his finger on her lip, and caressed its curve. “Why did you kiss my neck?”

“I’m sorry…”
“You told me not to touch you, and you kiss me? What do you want me to do?”

“Colin…”

He stared at her, and his eyes always undid her. She moved slowly as if under his spell.

“Stay like that. Don’t move…” he whispered, barely audibly.

Polly stood statuesque by the spiraled column of books. Colin caressed her jawbone, and leaned in as if to kiss her.

But he didn’t.

She remained perfectly still as he caressed her clavicle, his finger softer than the air, but making between her legs pulse like a drum. He circled her hard nipple, before he palmed her entire breast in his hand. He covered both of her breasts in his palms, and only the gauzy material of her blouse separated his hands from her bare skin.

Polly was so hungry for his touch, but she remained perfectly still. Perfectly poised, without straining for him. Even though her skin craved him. His hand on her left breast moved softly with the drumming of her heart. He pressed his lips to her neck, and her mouth opened with a ravenous moan, breaking her silence.

But her body remained still with desire…

There are AMAZING posts for this week’s theme “books.” You can read them all here.

I am a true bibliophile! Read my nonfiction take on books on LN Bey’s blog, Kinked Ink: Eroticists’ Favorite Erotica.

books photo by f dot leonora

Guest Blogger Eden Freed Teases Us with Violet Blooms!!!

BDSM Writers Con was AMAZING, mostly because I got to meet so many people who I am still in touch with. Eden Freed is awesome, we made instant friends and I was so happy about her first release Violet Blooms! I told her she had to come visit me, and she has…come to tease us a bit!

After meeting you at Charley Ferrer’s BDSM Writers Con I knew that you and your readers would love a little tease. My very first published story, Violet Blooms, was just released on Amazon Kindle Books As a virgin to the world of romance and erotica writing this was as much fun to write, as it was to watch people adjusting their seat while they read it, but that’s just my style. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of watching people squirm with pleasure. Enough foreplay! Here’s some information about the book.

Blurb

A young aspiring actress, majoring in Theatre Arts, must overcome mediocrity and learn to take direction in time to be discovered by a talent scout during her final performance. Her new acting coach decides to teach her direction through a non-conventional method: an introduction to BDSM. Will Violet have what it takes to learn the art of role-play, or will she end up on the “casting couch?”

Now, before I give you some little snippets from the book, I have to say that everyone’s introduction to BDSM is unique and utterly unforgettable. It can lure you in like a burlesque show, make you slide out of your seat and if you’re lucky enough, you’ll find someone to play with over and over again. ‘Nuff said.

Here are some snippets picked especially for you:

“Frankly, you frustrate me Violet. I could teach you,” he said and I felt Chase’s hand grip my wrist and pull it towards him. Something in his face changed from excitement to concern and he let go of me and straightened out his shirt. He sat back in his seat and blew out through pursed lips before he said, “There are rules.”

Without even hiking my jeans and underwear back up, I sat bare-assed on the cool leather couch and awaited my punishment. My lower lip was trembling with nervous anticipation. I could feel my breaths coming in short gasps keeping time with Blythe’s quick footsteps as he returned.

***

I loved each sub for who they were, but I wasn’t in love with them. Detaching myself from my subs a little made me a better master. I was more objective and able to exact obedience from them. One look at Violet pushed all of my reservation aside. I wanted to possess her completely and utterly.

***

“Love isn’t easy. It takes courage. There are days when you just want to walk away and call it quits because you feel as raw inside as you do outside, but you don’t go because it would hurt even more,” she said and sighed. I felt the same way. Georgette looked at me for a moment and asked, “Did you want me to make a collar for her?”

Hope you had fun with these. With BDSM practice makes perfect, you know. Have fun playing!

Oh, and don’t forget to stop by my blog, and visit my Liquid Friday Blog for fun authors and cocktails.

Eden Freed grew up in a busy city on the East Coast with a keen eye for observing people and a love of music. After moving to the quieter suburbs, she suddenly found herself with plenty of free time on her hands and a knack for writing and public speaking. After college she tried many careers, including professional entertainer. Eden kept writing for her own enjoyment until she decided to write her first book, a YA fantasy novel, as a gift for a dear friend. After that Eden has tinkered with several genres, but has a soft spot for BDSM erotica and women’s fiction.

A bookworm, Eden always has something to read with her. She has a lust for knowledge and enjoys the title of resident geek at home with her husband and children. When Eden isn’t enjoying treks through nature or time on the beach, she’s shooting her traditional bow at field targets or gaming.

Look for more of Eden’s books, and some of her favorite authors on her blog www.EdenFreed.com

Guest Blogger Oleander Plume Zazzles Us!!!

Now we all know that Oleander Plume is a brilliant writer, and if you follow my blog you know she is a also a brilliant designer. I searched my blog for her, and she is EVERYWHERE!!! If it is not a brilliant story, it is designing the logos for my other two blogs. I asked her to talk about her designing side in the latest issue of my newsletter, which you can sign up for here. Below, I want you to be “zazzled” by her!!! Go on, read you know you want to be zazzled!!!

Shortly after Christmas, my daughter Quinn and I had a conversation that changed my life. It went something like this:

Q: You know, there are no decent online stores to find a writer gift.

O: Really? I would think there would be at least one.

Q: I found a few, but they were, how should I put it, lame as fuck.

I sat up straight in my chair. Lame gifts for writers? This could not stand! We writers work hard, and we deserve non-mediocre gifts, damn it!

O: I’m going to do something about this, Quinn! As God as my witness, I will create awesome merchandise for writers!

Q: (now watching TV) What? Did you say something?

Okay, so I exaggerated, the conversation didn’t change my life, but it did spark an idea. A crazy idea inspired by goofiness and whiskey. A store! An online store, featuring my own designs on all types of merchandise! Hells to the yes!

Now, I’d messed around with a store before, but the format was ridiculously non-user-friendly and I became stymied by confusion, so it languished. Hoping for better, I sprinted to the Google machine and did some research.

And then I had a drink.

There are a lot of online merchants who will allow you to design and sell merchandise. I picked Zazzle for its ease of use, and aesthetically pleasing layout. I’m not going to lie, putting it together was a challenge, but when you want something bad enough, you’re going to make it happen. And so:

Pretty Poison Graphics online Zazzle store was born!

Some products are geared toward writers of the erotic and non-erotic variety, but I didn’t stop there – oh no! I wanted everyone to be able to join the party, so I created “Naughty things for naughty people,” instead.

People. All people. I like to think of my graphics as “Uni-Sexy!” Take one of my coffee mug designs for example:

Maybe you’re not into men. For you, there’s another version:

Incidentally, each design is also available in pink. Because maybe blue is not your thing. Point is, I want to create fun and unique items for everyone. Even you non-writers! But, if you do write, there are plenty of designs that might appeal to your author palette. For example:

Does this mean I’m giving up writing? No way! More likely, I’ll give up sleeping. *fills a dozen coffee mugs* There are literally hundreds of ideas stabbing my brain with tiny forks, so keep checking back for new merchandise, including t-shirts, underwear (yes, you will be able to get in my panties, ha!), and laptop sleeves. (And stuff with cats. Love those cats.)

(Yes, that is my kitty, Mr. Jingles. The dude is eating me out of house and home, he has to earn his keep somehow!)

Hey, while I’m thinking of it, would you like to be moderately famous? If you order one of my items and take a photo of yourself wearing/using/breaking it with a sledge hammer, I will feature you on my blog, and my store! I will also love you forever and ever and ever…

Here’s a link: http://www.zazzle.com/prettypoisongraphics – happy shopping!

Thanks for having me, F. Leonora, and thanks for reading, you person behind the laptop, tablet or phone. Have a fantastic Friday!

Love, Oleander xox

Guest Blogger Ivy O’Hara Gets Forward With Us…

Ivy O’Hara and I met at an airport. We were both waiting for flights…on the Starbucks line! We discovered we were both writers…and a friendship was born! Ivy is a brilliant writer, her erotica is deeply sensual with a slow burn that scalds like this story for example…

She is the real deal as far as writers are concerned, her work ethic is something I aspire to…Okay, I am going to stop fangirling her, and let her take over…

Firstly, huge thanks to Leonora for inviting me to say a few words here. I may not be new to the world of sex or to the world of writing, but when it comes to blogs, I am a complete beginner, and when Leonora kindly asked me if I would like to write a few words to guest, I was all of a fluster.

Please be gentle, this is my first time.

Thinking about what I wanted to say has carried me through many hours when I was supposed to be working on plot twists for my other life, as a suspense writer, but it finally came down to two things – firstly, to what has led me here, as Ivy, and secondly, if you’ll excuse me for being so forward, I want to talk about pubic hair.

Released from the confines of an English boarding school at the tender age of sixteen, I hit the big bad world running. Lucky to find both men and women fascinating, I embraced every form of love and every form of fucking, and it was certainly an education. I fell in lust and in love twice a week, and at night I dreamed of the touch, the sight and the feel of naked skin. I was on fire. I lived every last second of life I could find, and when I started work writing for a small town paper, I found that my fingers were just as happy exploring words and plot lines as they were reaching for the touch of new skin.

That was all a long time ago now and it has been nearly thirty years since I celebrated my sixteenth birthday, dressed in a lace basque and skintight jeans. In that time, I dated men and I dated women; I had one night stands and three week stands, and year-long heartbreaks. Then, when I finally fell deeply into a relationship with a wonderful man, I grabbed hold of him with both hands, and I have no intention of letting go.

I don’t miss the wild life or the excitement of strange kinks and new people because what I have now tops that a thousand times over. But as a writer, I find myself reliving that wildness, that passion, through my characters. In my day job as a suspense writer, I often use sex in my books. My characters fall in love with the good guys, as well as the bad ones. The spark between two people is such fun to write but in the world of suspense, there is a limit.

Then one day, talking with Leonora, I came to realise that I really can have my cake and eat it. I can write my scary stuff in the day and I can let loose at night, under a different name.

And so, Ivy O’Hara was born.

I began to dig out erotica I’d written years ago and I popped some of the little teases up on a blog, and I began to allow myself to write further into short stories, to let my characters play. As Ivy, I can take it as far as the characters want to go – I have no editors telling me that the sex is too raunchy, or too kinky. As Ivy, I can write the fantasy.

The worlds of sex blogs and erotica blogs are bright and shiny new to me but I’ve read erotica ever since I was given my first Anais Nin book as a sixteenth birthday present. I love the craft of writing and the joy of reading, and this way I can shrug off the suspense writer’s fluffy cardigan (the pale blue one that’s covered in cat hair and a little frayed at the edges) and reach for the fully boned erotica writer’s lace basque – but there is one thing I really miss, from my crazy, kinky life, and this brings me to my second topic:

I miss pubic hair.

Not a sentence I ever imagined writing – or saying, for that matter.

With absolute respect both to those who like to be shaved and those who enjoy the shaved feel on their partners, for me, there is nothing so feminine or masculine as a dusting of hair – the slender V of temptation. I love the shining, damp curls on a woman’s pussy lips and I love that enticing line of hair that runs down from a man’s lower abdomen, to frame his cock.

Sadly, for me at least, it seems that the world of porn does not agree, but every time I read something a little bit naughty and the protagonist dares to hair, I get a shiver of excitement – a knowing rush of heat. For me, that little touch makes it real. I can relate to it. I can feel the soft touch of the curl, the knowing tingle.

After all, I’m not asking for a giant 70s style herbaceous border – I just like a little bit of something to frame the prize.

Maybe I haven’t evolved with the rest of society. Maybe the world of porn and shaven Hollywood starlets has moved on and part of me will always be stuck in the past, leaning up against the stage in some dingy London kink bar, my dress hooked up over someone’s knuckles as they tease the very wet tendrils of hair under my knickers. Maybe it is an age thing: for me, maturity came with excitement and dare, and hair down there. Maybe it is as simple as taste – as humans, we are as different as we are similar and the wonderful thing I learnt back then in the seedy low lights of London, is that as long as it is consensual, anything goes.

Now years away from that wild crazy life, I have a chapter to finish and a plot line to figure, and a man who I adore with my heart and soul. But after the work is done, I may read shaven guys and gals and I may watch actresses and actors with no remaining body hair. But when I come across a fine piece of writing with a sweet curl in the right place, I still feel that wonderful burn.

After all, whether as Ivy or as my other writery self, there is nothing quite so hot as the sexual need – the pure, unbridled want – whether in fictional or physical form.

Ivy x

Read Ivy’s awesome blog, where I was recently a guest!

Infamous Guest Blogger Kat Brings The Heat!!!

Kat is AMAZING!!! I am fascinated by her multiple blogs that all have her passion on display. She does not do anything halfway, I love the way her mind works. Her love of writing is so clear, she makes me revere our craft all the more. And the pictures she takes! Her Sinful Sunday posts take my breath away, she is so effortlessly sensual and sexy. Her erotica also leaves me breathless! Yesterday she posted a story on my Friday Flash blog that was…well go read it here! Today is Food for Thought Friday, so make sure you take a look at that as well. Read on for the decadence that is Kat…

When the blogging phenomenon that is F Dot Leonora asked if I would like to have her spotlight shone in my direction I was stunned, surprised and deeply flattered. Here was little old me, scribbling away my ideas on my blogs, never thinking I’d attract much attention, and then an offer I couldn’t refuse landed in my DM box! Thank you lovely Leonora for giving me this amazing opportunity!

Well, first things first, my name is Kat and I love to write! Which is why, after years of procrastinating, I took the plunge and began my first blog, kittykatbitsandbobs back in April 2014. I felt that my life was at a crossroads at that time, and I had an overwhelming urge to share the thoughts that were rattling around in my mind. The blog became a place where I tried to entertain people with my stellar wit, (I need a sarcasm font here), and morphed into a sort of public diary of my life where I laid myself bare. I think I used it as a form of therapy and still do. I often ask myself am I crazy to be so incredibly frank and open… am I making a huge mistake?

My desire has always been to write fiction and, given its recent rise in popularity, (thanks to that book that we shall not name), I thought I would try my hand at erotica and launched blog number two, MsTsecretgarden. I used this blog to explore a fantasy of BDSM, and I must stress it was fantasy. I made many mistakes there and, whilst the stories were fun, I was far from accurate in my portrayal of the BDSM lifestyle in many ways. Nevermind, it’s fiction and fantasy, so it’s all cool right?

I found that I loved writing filth but I wanted to branch outside of the BDSM genre and hence illicitthoughts was born; a third blog where I shared erotica, ranging from vanilla, romantic and sweet stories as well as my first love, kink. As poor MsT was left slightly by the roadside, I have since incorporated ‘her’ as a page on illicit. Although I was ready to leave that blog, I could not bare to just kill her off entirely. She was my first-born after all.

The funny thing is, I write erotica but the only erotica I read is on other blogs… I am a passionate reader, but on my bedside table you will find stacks of thrillers, mysteries, and tales of serial killers, as well as a wide selection of modern literature. Everything I write comes from my imagination. The stories you read on my blogs are my fantasies, some of which I have enjoyed for real, others that shall forever remain a fantasy.

I sit at my kitchen counter and allow my mind to drift to things I have done or would like to do. I have a tendency to ‘act out’ some of the choreography to see if what I am writing works, so my back-door neighbours may well have seen me running my fingers over my throat, down to my boobs and beyond… I have been known to lie of the kitchen floor to work out positions too. I guess if nothing else, it’s entertaining for them!

I find inspiration everywhere but mostly from people I know and talk to. My series Heat, (I toyed with the idea of attempting to develop it into a novella), was inspired by my best friend, who had some very unwelcome labourers in her front field last summer. I joked with her that she should begin a torrid affair with one and the idea just wouldn’t leave me, so I wrote about a lonely farm girl who fell for her farm hand. I still think the story has legs and may well return to it one day. I have an idea how it all wraps up but for now I am not sure I have the skills required to attempt a longer piece of work.

I often find photos can inspire me too; Tumblr, Pinterest and Twitter are rich sources of potential story material.

I run a meme on my ‘vanilla’ site called Word for Wednesday, inspired by my love of… well, words! Each week I pick a word and discuss why I picked it. I never expected that anyone would actually join in, but I have been delighted to find there are plenty of people out there who liked my simple idea and now I have a few regular contributors.

My most recent venture was to launch Food For Thought Friday with my good buddy Kilted Wookie. This came about from a poll I posted on Twitter. He liked my never ending list of question I have about sex, love, the human condition, and suggested we join forces to make it a weekly meme. Each week one of us poses a question we find interesting and invite people to share their thoughts on it. It is still early days for our baby but it seems to have potential.

I really enjoy joining in other people’s memes too and am a regular contributor to Sinful Sunday, as well as Wicked Wednesday and Friday Flash, which has been relaunched by my host today, the lovely F Dot Leonora herself.

I am a big believer in bloggers being there for each other and I try my best to promote blogs I admire as much as I can. I never feel that we are in ‘competition’ with each other, rather that we all have something unique to offer. If I can help a fellow writer, (oooooh! get me calling myself a writer!) to get new readers I will do what I can to help. I think blogging has changed my life, for the better. I have made great friends, learned so much about so many topics, and my self confidence regarding my writing has grown steadily… who knows maybe one day I will tackle that novella!

If you’d care to have a read of Heat and let me know if you think it has potential, click here!

💋

sexy lips via Kat

Guest Blogger BD Swain Will Make You Swoon…

BD Swain makes me swoon–whether with erotica or photography–swoon! I am so happy to have BD as my guest…so you can swoon too from the sheer gorgeousness of the decadent quartet of stories that follow…without further ado…BD…

I am thrilled to have the opportunity to appear as a guest blogger for Leonora. I enjoy her blog, and we have followed each other on social media for awhile. Since we’ve had some nice exchanges about my photographs recently, I decided to share four of my photos paired with four new stories for you here.

Four Very Short Stories by BD Swain

One

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Greasy fingers. Dirty boots. A tank top and jeans with just the right bulge packed tight. Ready for action. Spread your knees wide and pat your thigh for her to come sit. “Come here, baby,” you say. Pull down her panties enough to see. Pet her knees. Pull her dress down and suck on her tits. Slide two fingers inside her. Keep it slow like you don’t care. You’ve got all day. “Baby, what time is it?” Don’t listen to her answer. Keep asking her questions. Keep her talking. Not caring what she says. You want to hear it in her voice. The distraction. “Tell me a story. Tell me about your day.” She tries to remember. Tries to keep it up. Keep your teeth closed tight on her nipple. Don’t let go. Everything slows. Go slower. Your fingers are barely moving. So slow. In and out. She’s so wet. Growl at her. Show her how much you’re holding back. Keep it locked down. Tight. Feel it between your legs. Are you there? Are you still there? Pull her to face you, her thighs straddling your hips. Shove your thick bulge against her pussy. Grab her hips and grind her against you. “What gets you so wet, baby?” ask her. Watch your jeans get slick. Make her answer you. “What makes you wet like this? Tell me.” Let her whisper it against your cheek. Take her secrets. Keep them inside you. Let her feel you shake. Grab your belt buckle. Sticky fingers on your fly. Let the zipper snag your skin. Bleed. Grip your cock and shake it a little as you steady yourself. Get ready. Bend over and spit into your hand. Once. Again. Let the spit pool into your palm and wet your dick for her. “Right here,” tell her and lift her onto you. Hold yourself hard. Steady. Lean back. Watch her move. Bury your face in her tits and don’t let her see how much you feel this. How much you need it. Don’t tell her when you come. Don’t break.

Two

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Soft, clean sheets. A swept floor. Bare feet on the hardwood. I think about you all the time. I move through the house when you’re not here and listen. I’ll run a bath piping hot. So hot it stings my skin. I picture you in the water. Your body, not mine. Your curves. Your belly. Your thighs. I can feel you under my fingers. I rub my chest and feel your hands on me. I move my tongue against the roof of my mouth and feel your kiss. This is sweet. Tonight, I am sweet. So hot, I sweat in the bath. I won’t wait for you to come home. I need this right now. My fingers inside of me instead of you. I lightly suck the tip of my thumb. Imagine you in my mouth. I scratch my thighs. I’m talking to you. Out loud. Telling you things you’ve wanted to hear. I don’t wait for you. I never wait. I get ready. I pretend. I clean the house. I make the bed. I take a bath. I jerk off. When you come home, I’ll tell you all about it. I’ll bend you over the kitchen sink and grab your cunt while I talk. That’s what I think about when I come. I think about you bent over with my fingers in the wet cotton of your panties. I think about looking down at the backs of your thighs. I think about what comes next. And that’s when I come. With the expectation of what will happen. Every time.

Three

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I’m her sweet boy. She teases me, fingering the fuzz on my thighs. This is for her. This is what she’s given me. My own boy. Mine. For keeps. I know he’s there when she wraps an arm around me and plays with the shaved hairs on the back of my neck. When she drags her finger across my upper lip and tells me to sit down while she trims my mustache. “So handsome,” she sighs, and everything falls into place. I slip into a trance. Her boy. Hers. And mine. This is when she teases me. She toys with me. Her fingers trace my ear. Her lips on my neck. She slips a finger behind each button of my shirt, feeling around before undoing each one. She takes her time with me. Wants me to lean back, put my hands behind my head. My back is ramrod stiff. I’m frozen at full attention, waiting for an order. Tell me what to do. Tell me who I am. She drags her stiff, open fingers up and down the ribs of my tank top. She scratches me with her nails. “I like this look,” she says, smiling approvingly at my white briefs and edging a finger inside the pocket. She pulls at my pubic hair with a grip of her fist. She kisses my inner thighs until I squirm. When she’s finally at the point of tugging down my briefs, when her lips finally touch my swollen cock, I explode in her mouth too fast. I come with a jerk and cover my face. Ashamed I couldn’t hold out longer this time. Ashamed I can never hold back with her. She laughs at me. She tells me how she knows what to do to me. She calls me her sweet boy. Always a boy. Mine.

Four

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I started writing because I wasn’t fucking. I started writing because everything I wanted was stuck deep down inside me. I had stopped feeling it years before but I knew it was there. Buried deep. I started writing and I couldn’t stop. I knew I was going to break everything. I used to say, “I had no choice,” but that isn’t true. Breaking everything and starting over was my choice. No regrets. I used to say, “I wish I’d left earlier,” but that’s not right. I am here in this place because of every chance I did or didn’t take along the way. Why look back and try to retrace my steps? Look at this girl in my arms right now. See how much I love her. I write love stories now. Each one more surprising than the last. I don’t look too far ahead. I hold her hand when we walk around the lake. I get up in the morning and make coffee for us to drink in bed. I fall asleep with her in my arms. We fight. We fuck. I remember each detail and daydream about the next time we’ll fuck. Everything is changed. Life overturned. Righted. No one more surprised than me. I would never have met this girl. Not in a million years. I would have lost this chance. I would not have lived. This is one story. There are more.

…

I love dirty pictures. I take them all the time. Sometimes I write about them. Sometimes I just look at them. Each one is a story to me. Each one tells me something. I made a deck of cards so I could hold them in my hands. Feel them. The cards are a love story. A pack of love stories. If you’d like them, you can get your own deck at http://bdswain.squarespace.com. I hope you’re inspired to take your own dirty pictures.

BD kindly gave me a deck of cards, and I can tell you they are gorgeous! And I know you swooned reading this post, I know you want more…like BD ended the last story, This is one story. There are more at www.bdswain.com .

all photos courtesy of BD Swain

Guest Blogger Rose C. Carole Caters To Our Needs!!!

I met Rose C. Carole at BDSM Writers Con, which I wrote about and have pictures of. She is one of the organizers of the event–which I cannot wait to return to next year! At the time, she told me about Catering to His Needs. I was salivating–I mean food and kinky sex? This is the stuff (my) dreams are made of! I invited Rose to promote then and there, and here she is!

I want to thank Leonora for generously allowing me to guest on her blog and promote my new book. I met her at the BDSM Writers Con in New York City last August and it was great to get to know her.

Writing about BDSM is a challenge. For those unfamiliar with the lifestyle but are intrigued by it, it is difficult to make them understand how people engaging in what appears to be dangerous and abusive behavior are actually creating a very intimate connection. I think the element that transcends everything is showing passion. Everyone understands passion.

For my new series Kitchen Confessions, it was my goal to create a world of characters most readers could relate to and then show how BDSM could play a role in it. As much as I love a good billionaire story, I wanted to bring the dynamic to a more down-to-earth level—exploring how it would look with people pursuing careers, raising families, juggling all the other demands that life brings everyday—and figuring out how to create passion in the midst of all that chaos.

The first book, Catering to His Needs, is all about how family can be the deterrent to finding new love. The book blurb reads

Ethan is at his wit’s end. Gina, his brother’s ex-wife, has threatened to reveal that Ethan is a member of the Playground, an exclusive BDSM club, unless she gets more alimony from the family trust fund. The scandal that would arise from such a revelation must be avoided at all costs–not only for the sake of Ethan’s reputation, but for the future of his relationship with his treasured sub, Rebecca.

Rebecca is a single mother working hard to expand her catering business. The only peace she finds from her building stress is in the handcuffs of her strong Dom, Ethan. But Rebecca’s life is not her own. Her teenage son is not handling Rebecca’s divorce well, and Rebecca feels the responsibility for her son’s happiness like a weight on her shoulders. Between her business and her son, she has little time for herself–or the growing emotional demands from her Dom.

Ethan is determined to take their relationship to the next level, and Rebecca is equally determined not to upset her son further by revealing that she has a new man in her life. Fortunately, Ethan is a Dom with a passionate interest in seeing that his sub is happy–even if he has to whip some sense into her. He’s making progress until suddenly his own problems take a turn for the worse. His brother Zach has gone missing under suspicious circumstances and now it’s all Ethan can do just to keep himself out of jail. The cat, as they say, is out of the bag.

As their lives spiral out of control, will Ethan and Rebecca be able to find a way back into each other’s arms?

Excerpt:

He heard her car come up the lane and went to meet her. He directed her to a spot where she wouldn’t block him in if they wanted to go out during the weekend and approached. He walked up to the car, opened her door, then took her hand and helped her out. He embraced her and gave her a quick kiss.

She looked delicious in a simple blue sundress that brought out the blue in her eyes, which at the moment looked that deep azure color he recognized when she was full of expectation, confirmed by her half smile. Good. She would play right into his plans.

“Welcome to my home. I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Me too. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” She regarded him shyly through her long lashes.

“Our D/s dynamic starts right now, Rebecca. Give me your car keys, then get out your uniform. I’ll bring the rest of your things into the house. I want you to go around back into the fenced area. You will find your instructions on the bench. Once you follow them, I will meet you there.”

A momentary look of panic crossed her face and he wasn’t sure she was going to do what he’d asked. But he didn’t push her at this point. He needed her to go willingly, so he just waited until she squared her shoulders and calmed herself.

“Yes, Sir,” she finally said in a clear voice.

“That’s my girl,” he assured her. “Now go.”

She proceeded to the back gate, and he set about collecting her small suitcase, the knife roll and the bags of groceries she had brought. Once inside, he put the perishables into the fridge, glancing out of the window on a regular basis to make sure she was okay. Then he left the house, cloaking himself in his serious Dom mode. He had a point to make, and he wanted to make sure she understood how important it was that she got it.

* * * *

Rebecca stood looking at the paper grasped in her trembling fingers. I can do this, she told herself. Ethan wouldn’t allow her to expose herself to strangers, but she still looked around furtively to make sure no one was looking.

She read the words again.

Strip.

Put on your uniform.

Put the larger cuffs on your ankles.

Put the smaller cuffs on your wrists.

Place your clothes, your cell and purse in the metal box under the bench and secure it shut.

Once you have done all of the above, turn the paper over.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she slowly took off her clothes and folded them carefully on the bench then put on the garter belt, stockings and black stilettos she had brought. After securing the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, she put her clothes and purse into the box and shut it. Another deep breath—and another. Then she turned over the paper.

Take the end of the chain on the fence and secure it around your neck with the attached lock.

Oh, my God, really? They had a whole weekend to explore their Dom/sub relationship, and needless to say, it was starting off with a bang. Well, she had wanted to delve into their dynamic more fully than for just an evening. She sure got what she’d asked for—a challenge every step of the way. Her whole body shook and she had to take some more deep breaths to calm herself down. Then she walked over to the narrow chain tethered to the fence, secured the loose end around her neck with the small padlock and sat quickly down on the bench to keep from falling over her trembling legs. And she waited—and waited.

Find out more about Rose via her website: roseccarole.com , and get your copy of Catering to His Needs below!!!

Amazon

Totally Bound Website

Guest Blogger Allen Dusk Invites You to Dance with the Girl Alone

Allen Dusk is a writer’s writer and does not fit into a neat category, he writes whatever he wants–and he does it deliciously and darkly! Enter his new online series The Girl Alone, that he writes in weekly increments. The premise of The Girl Alone pulled me in right away–sex and mystery?!?! I am simply thrilled to host him today!

I would like to take a moment to thank F. Leonora Solomon for this opportunity to provide a guest post for her blog, and for the opportunity to reach out to new readers who may not know me yet. Some of you may have heard my work on Rose Caraway’s KMQ podcast, or read my work in a variety of recent anthologies. I don’t put warnings on my stories or stick to specific genres, so it’s hard for people to place me in a box with regard to what I write. You can place me in a pine box when I’m good and dead, and until then, I will write whatever I want, and not what the market demands.

About three years ago, I came up with the idea for my latest project, The Girl Alone, after having a discussion with my wife about a sad girl drinking alone at the end of a bar. Gradually the idea blossomed as I found myself delving into who this woman was, and why she was sitting there all alone. Up until that time, I had never written a contemporary erotic story. My stories have always been a blend of sci-fi, horror, or what others consider taboo (clowns anyone?), so I was nervous about entering uncharted territory. My other concern was alienating the small fanbase I’ve accumulated. However, since I don’t really stick to any one genre, I guess my fears were a bit unfounded since I really had nothing to lose and much more to gain by trying something new.

I practiced writing a contemporary piece of erotica set in a bar in my short story “Last Call.” Whenever I begin to doubt myself, I reflect on what I do well and stick to that. My wife and I enjoy traveling around to Tiki bars and sampling their drinks. I’ve always found something intriguing about the kitschy culture of Tiki, so I attempted to capture it in a story, and “Last Call” was the resort. It was fun to explore what we liked about visiting new bars and trying new drinks, and sharing that with readers through a story. While writing this story I made certain to lay the cornerstone for a hunky bartender named Lucas, and foreshadow that he was headed off to bigger and better things which would eventually unfold in The Girl Alone.

Usually I can pound out the first draft of a story in a short amount of time. The Girl Alone ran into some complications because my wife and I decided to go back to school to earn our advanced degrees. I tried to keep up with regular writing, but beneath the pressure of my 50 plus hours a week full-time job and an accelerated degree program something had to give. Unfortunately, the main character in my story had to wait it out until I wrapped my degree before she would see her story finished. Every time I sat down to write a paper, I knew she was sitting all alone, nursing an empty cocktail glass, and waiting for me to ask her to dance. I gave myself a month to decompress after wrapping school before I returned to conclude her story.

The plan for The Girl Alone from the very beginning was to release the story online for free, one chapter every week for 27 weeks (there ended up being 27 chapters…so that’s where that comes from). I wanted to practice with the serial format because just as “Last Call” was a rehearsal writing for The Girl Alone, my girl alone is practice for a larger multi-book series that will also be published in a serial format. Paperbacks, ebooks, and audiobooks will follow, but these stories will always be available free online. The Girl Alone also deliberately jumps between scenes, with chapters beginning and ending in ways that will hopefully leave readers guessing, questioning, and (hopefully) craving more. The best part about the online format is that nobody can skip to the last page and read how the story ends – at least until I post the final chapter. For those of you not yet familiar with my writing style, I pride myself in the twists I work into the ending – and my girl sitting alone at the bar will not be excluded from this expectation.

So enough of the vague discussion about the guts beneath the flesh, what is The Girl Alone really about for readers? I would like you all to meet my friend Gabby, who was recently dumped by her boyfriend, and finds her suddenly caught up in a nightclub scene where strong drinks and casual sex are merely Band-Aids stretched over gushing, emotional wounds. Gabby has a complicated journey ahead of her that some may label as transgressive, and I simply label as life. We all endure rough spots throughout out lives that leave us questioning our actions, wondering if we could have done something different to avoid the trouble where we find ourselves. In order to become whole, Gabby must accept her losses, mend her wounds, and find strength in what she fears the most. We’ve all felt alone, and Gabby’s story is my epitome of what it feels to be at rock bottom of sorrow and clinging to a shot glass for pain relief. Love is found and lost along her journey, affections are misdirected, and sometimes she just fucks people because she’s obligated to follow the rules until she gains the wisdom to make her own rules.

If you have the courage to join Gabby on her emotional journey, you can find her sitting at the corner of the bar. Saddle up and buy her a drink. If you’re lucky, you’ll find out if she’s wearing panties or not, and if you’re unlucky she may throw the glass at you while she’s cussing up a storm. I can’t blame her though. Gabby’s life has really gone to hell lately, and I’m hoping she pulls herself out of it before something terrible happens to her.

An excerpt from The Girl Alone

“Can I get you something else, or were you planning on joining your friend?”

Names of drinks flashed through her head, none of them appealing. Creeping intoxication tingled her nerves. The music suddenly dropped in volume and muffled all at once, as if she were dunked underwater. The vengeance of the Strong Island bore at her with full sails.

“How about a Redbull and vodka,” she finally said.

“I knew it. Those silly broken hearts do have a way of parching one’s throat.”

Alcohol slithered through her veins, slowing time to a crawl. It must have been seconds before Lucas returned with her drink, but she really didn’t know. She returned his smile, was fairly certain she actually said thanks, then she sat there with her lips poised on the straw without ever drinking.

Gabby spun on her stool, her glass gripped with numb fingers. Where did Bry go off to? She craned her neck searching over the crowd for any sign of her girlfriend. She was gone; lost to a sea of fun and smiles.

She gulped her frigid drink, amused the brain freeze struck her before the warmth spread down her throat. Set her glass on a coaster, which she couldn’t recall if it had been there before or not. Despair submerged her spirit, laser beams and starlight drifted past; again, she was set adrift through the universe of depression.

Lucas passed by, his handsomeness blurred by inebriated ogling. “Do you mind me asking how you plan on getting home tonight?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Well, maybe I’m in the wrong business, but I worry about pretty girls who drink as fast as you. Perhaps that’s because I made that drink stronger than I should have.”

“I’ll be fine. I realize we hardly know each other, but you can trust me.” Gabby’s words slurred. Her gaze drifted past Lucas. “I’ve learned to get around just fine on my feet lately. No thanks to my ex-boyfriend that screwed over my credit and got my damn car repossessed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lucas set a glass of ice water in front of her. “Promise me you’ll slow down just a tiny bit, and I’ll see to it that you get home safe and sound. I’ll even pay for the cab if I need to.”

“Deal.” Gabby gave his hand a quick shake, treasuring the sensation of his warm skin pressed around hers. Her glassy stare pursued duties along the bar. She caught him looking her way more than once. Even if it was only to check on her, his attention was still thrilling.

Layer by layer her imagination stripped him naked, revealing every detail of the tattoo scrolling over his flesh. Slowly he stroked himself, his pure desire fixated on her. Gabby gawked at the erection swelling for her honor. Bry was absolutely right; his cock was huge.

Allen Dusk is a splatterpunk at heart who enjoys toiling long hours in isolation while he’s dreaming up stories. Whether they’re horror, science fiction, erotica, or a wicked blend of genres, he enjoys keeping readers guessing where his words will take them next. He currently lives in Portland, Oregon, and when he’s not helping keep the city weird, he enjoys experimenting with photography, lusting over old horror movies, and exploring the world through geocaching. Curious readers may connect with Allen through his website AllenDusk.com.

The Epitome of Loveliness: Guest Blogger Marie Rebelle

This is a very special guest post for me, I did a teaser for my newsletter! I remember very well meeting Marie Rebelle, at Eroticon. All I can say is she is gorgeous inside and out. She is the epitome of everything a woman should be—everything a human should be. All of the good things. She is warm, loving and nurturing to this community. Marie has such grace and charm and … let me let her tell you more!

I am delighted to be a guest on Leonora’s blog today. She’s one of the loveliest people in this community and is always very supportive of my work and encouraging me, which I highly appreciate.

Who am I?

I am Marie Rebelle, owner of Rebel’s Notes, published erotic author, wife, submissive, mother, grandmother… and a myriad of other roles.

What do I do?

I started Rebel’s Notes six years ago in January 2010 and back when I started it, have never thought it will become as successful as it has. I still thoroughly enjoy doing it, as well as all the other things I am doing around it, such as Wicked Wednesday and other sexy memes I run. It’s hard work, but the amount of satisfaction I get from it and the amount of appreciation from fellow members in the community, energizes me to keep on going. It doesn’t feel like work, even though I approach it as a second job. Besides everything I do in the English sex blogging community, I also run my own writers group in the Netherlands, which have grown out to a tiny company I am expanding step-by-step. I do, however, keep this writing group separated from my Marie Rebelle persona.

How do I do it?

To be able to maintain my blog while also working full time and having a family, I have a strict planning for everything I do. I keep track of all my blogs in one Excel file, where I work with abbreviations and colors for the blogs and I plan posts ahead. There are colors for posts that still have to go live, posts that have gone live but still have to be promoted on different social platforms, and colors for posts that are live and have been promoted. Without this strict planning I would not be able to keep track of all that I do and it would have been a total failure long ago. Besides the Excel planning, I keep track of things in my agenda, for specific things that I have to do on specific days, such as reading Wicked Wednesday posts on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday evenings, posting the prompt for Sexy Searching on the last day of the month or on which evenings I have to work through the email I still need to reply to.

When do I do it?

During the day I work for a boss, like so many others. I work full time, which means you can find me in the office five days a week. The moment I get home, I switch on my laptop and I start my second job, writing and updating my blogs. My daytime job costs me energy that is replaced by ‘working’ for the sex-blogging community. In January the working hours for my daytime job is changing, which will give me a whole day extra to write and to build my own writing company.

Some people say that they don’t understand how I do it, everything that I do. Yes, I am just like anyone else, I get tired too and I also get tired when I have been working on my blogs. However, it also energizes me. It’s a different kind of tiredness from when I leave work in the afternoon after a busy day. I’m not a superwoman. I just work hard on something I love to do and where I get to help other people too.

Why do I do it?

I think in the last sentence of the previous paragraph I have already touched on this: I love to do this and I love helping other people. What is ‘this’ then? I love to write, whether fiction or fact, and I love to share my knowledge on things I have experienced or learned. I have always loved creating things, for as long as I can remember. All through my life creating was part of it: drawing, making clothes, creating websites, painting and of course, writing. In the beginning phase of Rebel’s Notes I completed quite a few paintings, but eventually I came to the point where I had to choose. I chose for writing, as by then I had also started my writing group and noticed that there was a need for this. More and more people attended the workshop meetings I had set up and I loved seeing their writing improve and learning through their experiences.

I love that I can express myself in fact and fiction, the I can express my verbal and visual exhibitionism, but that in all of it, I can help other people. The best compliment I ever got is when someone had read an article on Rebel’s Notes and they thanked me because it helped them in some or other way.

Where do I do it?

As said above, I get home, switch my laptop on and install myself on the couch. My papers and agenda are always on the seat next to me, my drink on a table on the other side. Some years ago my best friend gave me a wooden laptop standard which I call my ‘office’. On weekends I tend to sit at the breakfast table for most of the day and then move to the couch and my ‘office’ sometime late afternoon or early afternoon. This is the physical place where I do it, but of course there are many online places where you can find me:

* My primary blog, Rebel’s Notes

* Weekly meme with (not-compulsory) prompt: Wicked Wednesday

* Monthly meme where you can recreate your favorite search terms: Sexy Searching

* Experiences with menopause: The Menopause Diaries

* Tell me all about oral sex: The Oral Sex Project

* My author site: Marie A. Rebelle

* My 365 projects: Marie Rebelle’s Projects

* Follow me on Twitter

* Like my Facebook page

Thank you all for reading! I would love to hear from you!

And last, but not least, thank you to Leonora for having me on her blog!

~ Marie A. Rebelle aka Rebel