Wednesday Check In – Does It Get Easier??

Taxes, child management, and job hunting have robbed me of all my time as of late. I have also been querying my paranormal romance novella. That process is not unlike the online application for the copywriting and video production jobs I’ve been looking at in the Detroit Metro area. Cover letters are getting easier to write quickly.

Haven’t been doing much reading beyond fanfic and children’s books (mythology and gross stuff are heavy favorites in my house). Being a filmmaker and horror fan from Michigan, MaximusI’ve always loved the Evil Dead film series. Hubs and I have been catching up on the tv series the last few weeks. Bruce Campbell is a revelation. We also very much enjoy how the overall tone of the films has followed through into the series. Pretty groovy. With mid-season starting up this month, the show I’m most looking forward to getting back to is Flash. But as far as I’m concerned they can just focus 85% of each episode on Iris/Barry. So adorable and hot.

We’re looking into training classes for Max. His strong doggie personality is a bit too much for me to handle on my own.

My ‘work at your own pace’ contracting class has turned into a ‘neglect cause your life is too full’ problem. I need to make a plan on how to finish the damn thing!

WIP is still TT #3 – Screwed Over. But I have to get a couple of series related short stories out of the way first. I love doing the serious work on Cassie’s story. Can’t wait to wrap up the series with an amazing book. Revisions are going well, though rewrite is really the proper term for most of the book : It is going to be so great! I’m also doing more plotting and character work on my scifi series. Here’s a shot from its spot on my workboard:

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All that empty space under the light year stuff is where the scene cards go 😛

Both my released books continue to get great reviews on Amazon. Book 1, Screw Up, is still at 99 cents and Book 2 remains on KU for a limited time😀 Click here to sign up for my newsletter if you want insider info and offers.

The sun is actually shining today, though it is still cold and VERY windy. Hope your day is beautiful wherever you are. Happy Women’s Day! What are you reading?

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Sometimes a Man Needs Saving

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an excerpt from the (7,500 word) article:

“Do you have many stalkers?” I asked it lightly, half chuckling, but the answer he [JJP] gave sitting back down was quiet and serious.

“A few. That one I do not count. She’s harmless.”

“How can you tell?”

“That woman doesn’t seriously want anything from me, bringing her family in here. Psht. It’s the quiet little freaks sitting in the shadows, they’re the ones that you wake up to, standing over you holding a giant Maglite, wearing only a smile.”

“Personal experience?”

“It doesn’t get much more personal than that.” He laughed and lit another prohibited cigarette. The place was emptying out slowly and a lady in one of the nearby groups coughed and waved a hand in front of her nose. She homed in on his cigarette smoke and gave him her look of death. He flipped her off. She huffed up and practically ran out the front door ahead of most of her people. “No, that little honey isn’t stalker material. I bet she just wants her man jealous. Maybe that gets stuff going for them. Who knows?”

“She clearly wants to fuck you.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Cue his canned sexy face, bedroom eyes and a mischievous grin.

“I wouldn’t count on those guys.” The three old guys were at the bar sipping liquor and none of them looked very happy that JJP was still sitting with me and blowing off whatever discussion they had been having when I first appeared onto their scene.

“Oh no. They definitely want to fuck me. And ten ways on Sunday.” He had held his rocks glass in front of his mouth while talking about the men and now he downed the rest of the liquor and waggled his eyebrows at me. “But not tonight, I’m playing hard to get with them. Can’t give it up too quick or they lose interest, right?”

“I couldn’t say. I’ve never played hard to get in my life.”

He stared at me hard, head tipped slightly, brain and dick obviously warring for control of his mouth.

My mouth, on the other hand, was on and running. My mind and libido gleefully pursuing the same, within-arms-reach goal. I said the next in a terrible Scarlett O’Hara impression because I have the unfortunate tendency to pick up southern accents when I’m around them. “Why don’t you use my fate provided assistance to help you get away from your unwanted suitors?” I did my own eyebrow raising and his small smile seemed hopeful.

“You think you can get me away from them real easy, huh?”

“I think they’d get the picture if we left together. Yep.”

“So if I told you I was sleeping on the bus tonight, that it’s out back and I’d just love to give you a tour, you’d say?”

“I’d say,” I raised my voice to carry over to our interested observers, “Gee, a real live tour bus!” I did my best groupie squeal (which is amazing, btw) and sat back, quivering and shaking in my seat, colt-like with feigned excitement. “How was that?” I murmured for his ears alone, smiling huge.

“Well, let’s get to it, sugar.” He stood and held his hand out to pull me back up onto my heels. “Did I mention that you look good enough to eat?”

keep reading for the entire (M rated ~ 7,500 word) article as it appeared on TFP


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New York or LA? Neither!

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an excerpt from the article:

MH finished his drink and gestured at the bartender clear across the room. The man shot forward with a tray bearing fresh glasses, an ice bucket, and a whole bottle of very nice tequila. While he replaced glasses, poured, and wiped off the table MH just watched me with an amused grin and didn’t speak a word. The man ran off with the tray, but left the bottle.

“I have to know. How do I remind you of your husband?”

“I can’t. Oh God, this is so embarrassing.”

“We are like old friends,” he said, sliding his hand into mine slowly and caressing my palm with his rounded, blunt fingertips. “There is no need for embarrassment.”

“What the hell.” I took a long drink and shrugged. “You were my celebrity-free-pass.” He looked confused so I continued. “You know. Sometimes couples joke about what celebrity they reserve as their one chance to cheat without repercussions. His was Penelope Cruz, mine was you.”

He frowned and lied badly. “I think this must be an American thing.”

“Maybe,” I said, but I was thinking that more than one little honey has probably curled up to MH and told him about a deal she has with her husband.

“So if he had met Penelope Cruz on the street, and she agreed, they could have had sex and you wouldn’t have been upset?”

“It didn’t really seem like a possibility. I agree that in light of recent events, I probably shouldn’t have joked about sleeping with other people. But it seemed harmless at the time.”

“I wonder how he’d feel knowing that you’re here with me.” His eyes slitted with mischief and he took my hand again.

Ah, and we’d come full circle. “He wouldn’t care. And even if he did, you’re not here with me. We’re just sharing a drink.” I tried to sound nervous over my tequila buzz. “You’re here with your … girlfriend, right?”

“Nope.” His eyes seemed darker, calculating. His knee was touching my leg under the table.

“Oh.” I waited a few beats, then raised my eyes to his. “Oh…”

“I bet he would care a lot.” His eyes roamed all over my body and occasionally lit on my face. “Why are you still wearing your wedding ring?”

“So that men won’t bother me while I’m traveling.”

He laughed loud and long at that one.

read more for the entire (M rated ~ 5,600 word) article as it appeared on TFP


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Screwing Around Cover Reveal

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Cover art by Alla Podolsky

Releasing on November 23rd, 2016

The world’s first celebrity sex reporter, The Tinseltown Temptress, finds navigating the private lives of Hollywood’s elite more treacherous than titillating.

Cassie rallies her seductive forces in time to persuade her editor, Mr. Wilcox to rehire her at TFP, but her troubles are far from over. Run-ins with her ex, rando drummers, (Scandinavian film star and general loon) MH, and even a gun wielding psycho threaten to derail Cassie’s hunt for professional grade, celebrity level, sexual fulfillment. Her articles as the Tinseltown Temptress have become more popular than ever costing her friends, privacy, and peace of mind. And while her notoriety affords her a certain measure of job security it also makes keeping her secret involvement in the whole scandalous business harder than ever. Between locating her thieving mother and defending her home from interlopers, both foreign and domestic, Cassie is in over her head. Add in the constant pressures of finding suitable film stars to screw and bestie Matt breathing down her neck for his investment capital, and it’s plain why the woman feels so swamped. Clinging to the loose threads of all the lies, Cassie tries to stay afloat while blazing a torpid trail through the ranks of Hollywood’s finest in search of her happy ending.

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Haven’t read Screw Up (TT#1) yet??? What are you waiting for a written invitation?

About the Author

Alexis Wilder loves living near a lake with her patient husband, their mermaid children, and a deranged dog.

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Perfect Payment For Pie

Main character artist rendering by Alla Podolsky

Cassie as rendered by cover artist Alla Podolsky

An M rated short Cassie fic originally posted as #TwitterFiction

“No pie tonight, Gretchen. Thanks though.” Cassie fished out $4, stomach still growling, mouth watering for some dutch apple.

“You sure, hon?” The waitress saw plenty of hungry people throughout her day, but they didn’t usually leave that way.

“Yeah. I’m broke.” Cassie shook her purse ruefully. “No money for pie if I want to have enough for the bus tomorrow.

Gretchen strode over to the case and grabbed a slice for her favorite customer anyway. “On the house. Just don’t tell Pete.”

“You don’t have to do that, Gretch.” Cassie tried refusing the pity pie but her eyes had already eaten half the slice on its way over.

Gretchen wasn’t fooled. “Eat it. You can pay me with another story.”

“How ‘bout I owe you? Tell you one next time.”

“You say that every time. I want a story now.”

“Okay. But only because the pie smells like heaven.” Cassie popped the first bite in her mouth and ran through a short list of stories the woman would find acceptable payment for such delicious baked goods.

“And none of those sci-fi thingies you’re trying to get published. I don’t understand any of that shit. I want to hear more about real life rock star sex.”

“You want me to pay for pie with a titillating tale from my perverse past, huh?” Thinking of the language she’d have to use to describe even her tamest encounter, Cassie looked around with trepidation only to realize that there was no one else in the place to offend. “You got it.”

“Hold on to your panties a sec, I gotta grab my drink for this.” Gretchen snatched a half-empty to-go cup from under the counter and sank into the booth across from Cassie in direct violation of the policy requiring all personnel to remain standing while clocked in. “All set.”

“So summer of ‘94 I was heavy into the grunge scene.”

“How well I remember from your last story about TS, the guitarist from Wounded Hand and his inquisitive tongue.”

“You do like my stories,” Cassie smiled with genuine affection, please as punch that Gretch had remembered real details.

“Shut up and get on with it before some stupid customers come in. ‘94. Grunge. Go.”

“Well, some friends and I were backstage at a pretty big stadium show. Mercy’s Groaning Bug was the opener on the Midwest leg, and we’d been tagging along with them on the tour the previous couple of weeks. We girls just couldn’t believe our luck when HF himself stumbled by looking lost.”

“No!?!?”

“Yes. HF, lead singer of Leather is Mary, walking around by himself backstage, trolling for grunged up rockers to hang with.”

“No way. You did not meet HF.”

“Meet him? I played him. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Do you want to hear the details or not?”

“Tell me.”

“So I slid a condom into my bra, slipped my lithe, young, little arm under his and led him back to the dressing rooms to find the guys from Bug and introduce them.”

“Noooo. Boooooo.”

“Not really.” Cassie gobbled up another bite of the pie before continuing. “We were in Ohio somewhere. The guys had gone out to an arcade they liked. I took him back to an empty dressing room and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

“Oh my God, HF was so hot.”

“Even hotter in person.”

“I had that poster of him. You know the one with the open flannel and the top of his jeans undone. Jeez, that poster got me through some shit.”

“So I pushed him into a deserted dressing room, strewn with gross, sweaty stage wear and discarded instruments and locked the door.”

“Hold on a sec.” Gretchen leapt out of the booth and grabbed herself a hunk of dutch apple. Grabbing a whipped cream can from a sliding door fridge behind the counter she sprayed the stuff liberally on both their slices before allowing Cassie to continue.

“He started to protest when he realized what was going on, but I could tell he was just putting up token resistance for the sake of deniability.”

“What do you mean?” Gretchen asked her. “Nobody was even there.”

“I find that a lot of men aren’t as adventurous about instigating sexual relations as a lot of people make out. They’re chicken shits who want to be able to back out of it by saying it was all her idea. She was all over me.”

“Been there.”

“Well, this was just a weak ass variation on that same old tune. He waves me back at first all, (I’m not looking to start anything with you, girl). So I pumped the brakes. I was barely eighteen at the time and he was mid-twenties and had been famous for years already. I might have been cocky and brave but I wasn’t so jaded by the scene that this man didn’t intimidate the shit out of me.”

“I would have peed my pants. Then died. Or the reverse. God.”

“Well, I felt like a moron for thinking I stood a chance with him.”

“But you’re so gorgeous. I’ve seen the way people react to you. Nobody ever looks at me like that. You knew he wanted you, huh?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Gretch. If you ever wore anything besides that ugly ass uniform you’d catch your share of attention. Whatever good that’s ever done anybody.”

“So how did you nail him?”

“Straight back to HF then. The minute I backed off he warmed up to me. Asking me stupid questions (‘what’s your favorite color luv? you aren’t a pisces right?’) then leans in to tuck some of my corkscrew halo hair behind one of my ears. It is a textbook advance and in that moment I knew I had him.”

Gretchen drained the last of her drink with a loud slurping noise that echoed through the silent diner. She hopped up and filled her cup from the soda machine automatically filling Cassie water from a small pitcher before sliding back into the booth.

Cassie continued, “I walked toward him slowly, peeling my top (and bra, I was young and perkier then) up over my head in one smooth motion. I’m sure my smile lit up the semi-dark space because he stopped rambling and did some stripping of his own. Gretch honey, I’ve never seen a flannel hit the floor so fast in my life. He was very pale and his lightly muscled stomach and chest made my breath catch in my throat. I swear my mind flashed to that same image from that album cover of his that so many girls like you and me hung on our bedroom walls as harmless posters/masturbation material. He was even more magnetic in person. I closed the distance between us and kissed him slowly, like I was trying to sample his lower lip. He wasn’t having it. He tore through my slow, sweet kiss like a man on fire. His hands slid over my heated skin, gripping me tight and crushing me to his body while his mouth attempted to devour me. His tongue played over mine without any hesitation then he sucked on the tip of my tongue while yanking up my skirt and groping my ass. I felt like I wanted to consume him.”

Gretchen sat there, jaw dropped, waiting for the rest.

“As soon as he got his pants down I pushed him back into a pretty-clean, wide and low set, cushioned chair. He grunted and looked a little surprised that I was getting rough. I ignored his assumptions, got rid of my panties, slid a rubber over his five inch cock and hopped on.”

“Holy Lord.” Gretchen was panting.

“I rode him hard, the whole time kissing him like mad, trying to get him to suck my tongue like that again. He just laid back and squeezed my boobs to the quick rhythm my hips were setting. I slowed my gyrations and leaned back, reaching around my own ass to stroke his balls as I slid up and down on his dick. He sat up and sucked at my nipples pretty enthusiastically.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re sure you want more?”

“Fuck off.”

“I eased my weight forward again and pushed him back against the cushions. His hands shot into my hair and pulled me down for more tongue kisses all the while bucking under me like screwing me was his only purpose. I used my leg muscles to rocket myself up and down on him like a woman possessed. He yelled out, ‘fuckityfuckityfuck’ and buried himself deep into me, gripping my hips from behind with one arm to keep my body firmly down on his cock. His other hand snuck between us and his middle finger found my clit crushing it against my pubic bone. I cried out at the forcefulness of it and ground myself in circles against his body. He kept up the pressure and stroked me furiously in an intense effort to make me come while our bodies were still pressed closely together. I peaked quickly under his fingers’ all out assault on my labial area, screaming out his name with my orgasm like a good little groupie.”

“And then?”

“I stood up off of him and got back into my clothes before he even sat up all the way. He was still reclining wearing only an abused prophylactic when I slipped out the door and ran for a bathroom. I don’t think I even said goodbye.”

Gretchen stared at Cassie, breathless for some time before getting up and wordlessly bringing her another slice of pie.

Book Review | In Vicki Vantoch’s The Threesome Handbook, more’s the merrier when you play by the rules

 

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Author and sexual historian Vicki Vantoch weaves interviews, research, and personal experience together in her guide to threesome sex and triad relationships. As well as highlighting the positives of such unions: less codependency, hotter sex (truly, there are diagrams), she also anticipates the negatives and counsels how to avoid making huge, sexy mistakes.

She explains that though she is a bit of a square, citing that she’s even married to her high school sweetheart (actor, Misha Collins), “everyone’s got a kinky side” and then proceeds to share a lot about hers. This personal section shows her to be a thoughtful and extremely curious woman that anyone reading would want to befriend. It ends with a warning that the advice she has given might turn your life upside down, which only heightens the anticipation for the fun ahead. She sprinkles other personal anecdotes (without naming names) throughout, continually reminding us that she doesn’t just talk the talk. The fact that she is coming from a place of experience lends her loads of credibility.

Everyone worries about jealousy in threesomes, and she addresses it frankly saying, “Jealousy is a bitch.” Then, rather than serving up empty platitudes to write the problem away, she maintains that learning to process through hard emotions with good communication can lead to personal growth and enhanced intimacy. “Learning to manage jealousy can lead you to a sweet spot inside yourself, where you feel so confident you no longer seek validation from anyone else. And that’s a beautiful thing.”

Vantoch has interviewed medical professionals, sex workers, friends, and more to provide a well balanced take on the many emotional, spiritual and physical issues that introducing additional sexual partners into your love life can bring. These anecdotes make it clear that she is not alone in her advocacy for ethical polyamory. Also, they round out the topic by sharing specific details about what goes on behind their own closed doors, unshrouding the mystery so often forced onto these human experiences.

Much of the advice found in this handbook can be boiled down to the essential element present in all good relationships: communication. In every chapter, it is repeated and rephrased that honest and open communication is the only way in which these events can resolve into happy endings. Many examples of poor versus good communications skills are played out to hammer the point home and emphasize its importance. Still, she acknowledges that people unused to expressing their emotions fully will have trouble with this aspect of her advice, and that perhaps threeways are just not for them.

Solid quotes and statistics help back up the idea that being open, sharing your love occasionally, and/or committing to more than one sexual partner can aide people’s personal growth and journey through life. The research compiled and utilized to support the choice of this path is wide in scope and helps reflect a nuanced approach to broadening erotic horizons. She quotes Jalal ad-Din Rumi, a Persian poet and mystic as saying, “If you could untie your wings/ And free your soul of jealousy/ You and everyone around you/ Would fly up like doves.” A ringing endorsement for mass coupling if ever one existed.

The book gets repetitive at times, especially concerning safe sex practices. But the latex lectures don’t detract too much from this insider’s tour of the wilder side of romance.

The Threesome Handbook is a fascinating read for all adults, whether they have “secret dreams of reinventing their love lives” or not. Vantoch covers a lot of sexual and emotional ground, and though there are more than a few titillating passages (Did I mention the diagrams and that at least one of her threesome partners is a huge television and social media star?) the practical relationship advice makes this guide helpful for all types of respectful, honest, and loving partnerships, no matter what the head count.