September 20, 2014

Stroke • Bite • Lick • Kiss

I slid over to one of my favorite ETSY shops this morning—Trixie Delicious—just to see if she had anything kiss-related. And look! She made my mouthwatering dreams come true!

Oh, wait. Speaking of dreams. Last night, I dreamed I was writing a self-help book. The whole purpose of the manual, which was phone-book thick, was to explain to people how to move a book from their left hand to their right. I am not joking. (Damn. In the future, will anyone know how thick a phone book was? Are phone books as obsolete now as land lines?)

But back to kissing—the Snog for Sommer has raised over $1,000 (if my handy currency calculator is correct). I am in awe of the readers and writers who came together to help Sommer Marsden. Many of the participating bloggers are giving away prizes—and there is going to be a big Facebook party in honor of the event today.

The winner for commenting on my own little Snog Post is Eva's Flowers. (Please email me at msalisontyler at yahoo dot com, so I can arrange to send you a prize.)

I also want to remind readers about Summer Loving. All proceeds are donated to Sommer and her family.

You can continue to read the 69 (yes, 69!) posts that made up the tour here. What a way to spend a Saturday!


September 19, 2014

Kinky Boots

There is no reason why I would not like Kinky Boots. I mean, you all know I love kinky boots. (Boots are mentioned in 179 posts on this blog and 975 files on my computer.) But the movie... everyone said I should see the movie. I watched The Crying Game four times in the theater and hundreds of times since. I have memorized passages of The Full Monty. Friends said "Kinky Boots" was like a lovechild of those two films, with Tootsie as the cross-dressing godparent.

Except it's not.

I don't feel bad posting spoilers on a film that came out in 2006 - but if you don't want to know the plot, then run away as fast as your kinky boots can carry you.

Truth is, I enjoyed the first part of the movie. In a nutshell, a man named Charlie inherits his family's shoe factory. The factory has fallen on hard times, and it looks as if Charlie will have to shut the doors until a worker named Lauren insists that it's up to him to figure out a niche market to save their soles.

Through sheer movie luck, Charlie meets drag queen Lola and is inspired to start making fetish footwear for men who dress as women. Charlie neglects to tell his dragon lady of a girlfriend of his plans. But he is absolutely sweet and charming in his desire to create the best fetish shoes for men ever. The plan is to take the line to Fashion Week at Milan. 

The shoes are designed by Lola/Simon, who is divine in every scene. 

There is conflict with some of the closed-minded workers at the factory, but that is resolved. (And Nick Frost wins my heart once more. Love Nick Frost.)

Then there's a confusing dance scene (and you know me and dance scenes). Lola/Simon, with a whip, dances in a spectacularly sexy way with the girl, Lauren, who everyone knows will end up with Charlie. Firecracker Lauren seems positively mesmerized by the whip Lola holds. (We seem to be entering a different type of movie here. Will there be some freaky three-way between Lola, Lauren, and Charlie. No such luck.)

Moving on.

Charlie and Lola/Simon make a date to celebrate finishing the footwear line and leaving for Milan. At the restaurant, while waiting for Lola, Charlie finds out that his hideous beast of a girlfriend is cheating on him. The thing is, they already had the type of blow-out fight that indicates a relationship ending. So this isn't earth-shattering news to anyone. Except, it seems, Charlie.

Lola/Simon shows up in drag, and this is the exchange they have.

Charlie: You are a man in a frock in Northampton. They're staring. Even if they're not looking, they're staring.

Lola: I'm a Northampton shoe designer, Charlie.

Charlie: Yeah, You're that as well. You're also a man in a dress.

Lola: You make it sound as if I put this on because of the lack of a pair of trousers. Is there a part of you that actually believes that, Charlie?

Charlie: I don't know why you wear dresses and I don't think you do either.

Lola: I didn't realize I was causing you trouble.

Charlie: Forget it. All right. You are a very good designer.

Lola: You'd like me to come and design then disappear when I'm me.

Charlie: You is the designer. This is not you. This is you in a dress, looking daft. You don't have to. I don't know what you think. If this is about dodging what sex you get off on... If you think you are somehow being mystical, being the best of either sex, I have to tell you, Simon...Stood there in a frock right now you look like the worst bits of both. Stop hiding. Be brave. Decide one way or the other. For my sake, tomorrow, please, turn up looking like the picture on your passport.

Okay, so I immediately start hating Charlie. Because he's cruel. And he hasn't been cruel for the whole fucking movie. The only excuse is that he's found out his beast is cheating. But she's a beast. There was not one scene where the girlfriend had any redeeming qualities. She's materialistic, cold, and heartless. Also, Charlie was Lola's friend. People don't talk like this to their friends.

But what has bothered me for the past few days—what has nagged and lingered is this.... Charlie is making fetish shoes for drag queens and transvestites. That's what's going to save the company. So why on earth would he suddenly have this freak out about Lola/Simon being in drag? If it's brave to look like the photo on your passport, then Charlie shouldn't be making women's shoes for men.

And I know this is just a fluff movie. And based on the other million reviews out there, I believe I stand alone with my opinion. But that's a mean speech. And then we have this half-assed apology over a phone message that you get to hear near the end of the movie, that also nagged at me and I could figure out why.

Here is the speech:

Listen, if people ever tell you, you look half a man, you gotta remember, that's fine. I mean, I don't know what half a man is. I don't know what the hell a man is. But I know that if it involves being brave, you are more of a man than I will ever be. Goodbye, Lola.

And here is the end speech from Tootsie:

Look, you don't know me from Adam. But I was a better man with you, as a woman... than I ever was with a woman, as a man. You know what I mean? I just gotta learn to do it without the dress. At this point, there might be an advantage to my wearing pants. The hard part's over, you know? We were already... good friends.

And the whole point is that Lola/Simon and a troop of crossdressers was coming to Milan to showcase the shoes. That happens. The scene is delightful, and the ending is fine.

But seriously. What the fuck is up with the speech? What on earth made anyone think that would be okay? There's no reason for Charlie to say what he says, and there's no reason for Charlie to flip his opinion back. Obviously, the writers wanted to get Charlie on the catwalk in kinky boots and have Lola save him. That could have been done without the bile-inducing speech.

So two heels down for me...although, damn, I'd love to get my hands on that thigh-high pair of slinky red boots with the whip holder up the side.


P.S. I actually mentally wrote a different end. The wildebeest girlfriend was not used at all. She could have found out what was going on — trip to Milan, etc. — and cancelled Lola/Simon and the drag queens. So that Charlie would end up on the runway alone... and then through some movie luck, Lola and company would save the day. Why have a wildebeest if you can't use her?

September 18, 2014

"Oh, that was a horrible book."

Recently, I watched Grosse Pointe Blank for the first time. I am a mega fan of John Cusack—and really, I adore all of the actors in the flick: Hank Azaria, Dan Aykryod, Jeremy Piven, Joan Cusack. The film was worth watching to me for this line that Cusack says to his former high school English teacher:

"Are you still inflicting all that horrible Ethan Frome damage? Is that off the curriculum?"

And the teacher says: "It's off the curriculum now. Oh, that was a horrible book."

I feel so fucking vindicated. I cannot tell you how much I despised Ethan Frome. I mean, I could tell you. But we'd be here for awhile.

The score for the movie was created by Joe Strummer. The awesome soundtrack was really 80s: English Beat, Bowie, Violent Femmes, The Clash.

I just entertained myself by typing in "I hate Ethan Frome" (like you do) and the results were spectacular. Here is one of my favorites: "The book I have hated most in my life is that innocent-looking little volume by Edith Wharton."

That put a huge smile on my face!


September 17, 2014

"...a raw sharp edge to pleasure..."

Look what Sommer Marsden made me! I am thrilled. I don't know how these little virtual postcards are created, but I love them. If you liked the book, and you want your very own copy of Dark Secret Love on audio (I have a few left), please post this image somewhere on your blog, tumblr, Pinterest or even Tweet it and let me know. I'll send you a link to a free audible copy of Dark Secret Love!

Feeling restless? Here's what I've got going on...

Snog for Sommer (winner of my kissing prize announced on 9/20)
Go Ask Alison #3 (where do the names of your characters come from?)
Trollop with a Question (recommend a favorite book, will ya?)
E is for Experts #2 (how do you dirty talk?)

Also, I am still (always and forever) collecting pictures of my books with your food... on your bookshelves... in your favorite store. And I'm still building my Next 99 reviews. (If you review one of my books, I will send you another. It's like a perpetual motion machine. Except sexier.)

But now, I have a new concept. (Uh, oh. She's hit the coffee hard this morning, boys.) Would you take a Polaroid, a snapshot, a slide, a .jpg, a viewfinder of one of my books in your... wait for it... bed? Yes. My books want to sleep with you! Send shots to msalisontyler at yahoo dot com!


September 16, 2014

Go Ask Alison #3

Occasionally, I come up with these brilliant ideas that turn out to be brilliant only to me. Or to me and two other people. I've learned not to tie too much ego to the different concepts that fill up my brain. Some work. Some don't.

The upshot is that I'm absolutely thrilled when one of my ideas catches on. Here is the latest "Go Ask Alison" query to fall into my box. This one is from Rei Pardieu, who asks:

How do you go about choosing names for your characters? Do you use random name generators or do the names just come into your head? What's your process and what advice do you have for naming?

That is such a good question. And here's my honest answer: I actually have never thought about this before. Characters tend to name themselves for me. Sometimes the names shift or change during the writing of a piece. But often my people arrive with name tags in place.

That said, I have overlapped a few character names. (I seem to have a fondness for Dean, Jules, and Sandy.) But I soothe my worried nerves by reminding myself that I've written well over a thousand stories. In my real life I've been acquainted quite a few people with the same names. (I've lost track of all the Toms and Joes I've known.) It's understandable that I might have used the same name more than once in stories.

Advice—well, I do know that when I trip over a name I love (in a magazine article, in a movie), I make a mental note. I also am a person who watches the credits of films to the bitter end. If ever there was a place to find interesting names it's in the movie credits. 

But my curiosity has been piqued. Authors, how do you choose your names?

If you are interested in sending me a query, please hit me at msalisontyler at yahoo dot com. 

About the Askee: Rei Pardieu runs the blog Thoughts of a Growing Sub. You can read all about her here.


September 15, 2014

Trollop with a Question #22

It is #22, right? I will have to go back and look. And it's Monday, yes? All day yesterday I thought it was Monday. So officially that makes today mentally Tuesday. (Or maybe it just makes me mental.) Which means on Friday, I'll be having a Saturday, I suppose.

But back to the question. I ask this one from time to time. And I've stumbled across other people's answers when least expecting. (Do you remember the dryer repairman who gave me a self-help book?)

Has any book ever changed your life? And, if so, what was the title and how did the book affect you?

Certain titles have been extremely important to me at different times in my life. Looking back, I can't always remember the appeal. I carried Tex with me in my backpack for years. I have bought Wrecking Crew for more friends than I can tally. I own back-up copies of Getting It Right, and I can quote lines from the novel. (It's a non-traditional romance. The book is funny and touching and presses all my buttons.) The Garden of Eden showed me kink could be literary. There are some books I bring places with me when I'm nervous or upset. I don't even need to read the words. I only need to have them near me.

And you?

If you answered last week's question and would like a prize from me, be sure to drop a note to msalisontyler at yahoo dot com. (I'm still waiting on a few prizes I ordered to send out. So please be patient and don't mug your mailman.)

If you missed the Snog for Sommer, there is still time to donate here.

If you're helping me on my quest for my Next 99 reviews, please make sure I didn't miss yours!

And if you're in the mood to make five writers happy, snap up a copy of Smart Ass! (All money brought in by Pretty Things Press books is divided equally among the authors.)


September 14, 2014

Snog for Sommer

When I think of kissing, I think of mad passion. I think of a back alley, a top row in the balcony of a movie theater, a tiny garden in Paris. I have a flipbook of images in my mind, and I run my thumb along the pages and make the lovers kiss:

During our first kiss (moments into our first date), he bit my bottom lip so hard that when I ran my tongue over the indents, I could feel the echo of pain—that tiny spark. There are days I swear I still feel his lips on mine. He held my glossy dark ponytail firmly in his fist when he kissed me, pulling a little too tightly, telling me in that subtle way that he was in charge.
            He was spanking me regularly by that weekend.

And then I did something even more shocking: I kissed him. He didn’t pull back or push me away. He kissed me in return, and I felt the sun’s heat from the outside, and a new kind of heat on the inside, and I saw the rest of the day unfolding like a brilliant blue towel on a white-sand beach.
—"When in Nice" (Summer Loving)

Then I bent down and kissed him. Feeling totally out of control, and not sure how to regain my balance. Alex kissed me back, surprising me. I’d thought he would pull away. I’d thought he would refuse. His lips were warm on mine, and I lost myself for a moment in the kiss.

—Even Deeper

I wanted to say: You’re embarrassed. I get it. You don’t know me. You don’t know her. And yet you’re bound to my bed and my girlfriend has her hands on your ass and I’m about to fuck you in a way you’ve always wanted, in a way you’ve never gotten. I wanted to caress him and kiss him and tell him sweet fairy stories in which the hero rides off in the sunset on a white stallion… and yet that wouldn’t have helped him.

I keep my clothes on and climb onto the bed with him. He looks cold, but he feels warm. I kiss the side of his neck, kiss his broad chest. He’s fine, built so handsome. I want to devour him. I understand the needs of the woman who’s left him. I can feel her urges inside.
            “She wouldn’t let me,” he says, “she made sure I was the one who didn’t know what was coming next.”
            I kiss his flat, muscular stomach. I run my hands over his cordwood thighs.           
            “What was coming next?” I ask.
—"Plucked" (Smart Ass)

I've written about first kisses before. I've kissed authors I adore. (Oh, for heaven's sake. I just rhymed.) But these kisses today are dedicated to Sommer Marsden, as part of the Snog for Sommer. There are 58 blogs for you to visit where you can read racy excerpts and (on some) win prizes. If you're interested in donating to Sommer's family, please do so on the official page. Thank you to the remarkable Victoria Blisse, Liv Honeywell, KD Grace, and Lisabet Sarai for setting up the snog!

Comment here for a chance to win a kiss-themed bundle of prizes from me. And please help spread the word!


September 13, 2014

E is for Experts #2

A few weeks ago, I created my own little collage of questions and answers, which I called "E is for Experts." The experts will overlap and shift from column to column. The questions will often be ones that have fallen into my in box over the years. 

This week, the topic I posed was:

Dirty talking can be extremely difficult for many people. 
Do you have advice to give a novice at dirty talking?

Here are what the experts say. 

Sommer Marsden said: Talk dirty like you mean it. If your body's bare to someone, take the next step and bare your soul. If something feels good, say so. If you want it a little to the left, speak up. If those jeans he's wearing make you want to drop to your knees an unzip his fly, for God's sake tell him. Would you want to know? Of course, you would. 

I was very wary of dirty talking back in the day. It seemed sort of goofy and cliched to me. But I learned what worked for me. Speaking softy right in his ear. That takes the showmanship out of it and makes it as intimate as what you're already doing. No one says you need to shout it through a bullhorn. Saying it with your lips pressed to his earlobe followed by a swift lick or small bite is perfection. Works every time. For both parties. 

Lucy Felthouse said: Allow your lust to rule.

If you’re really crazy about someone—and we all know how that can be, particularly in the first stages of a relationship—then let your lust rule. Chances are you’ll be wanting to jump your lover’s bones at every given opportunity, so why not let your tongue loose, too? Don’t keep all the stuff you’re thinking bottled up inside. If you think they’re sexy, tell him. If you want to ride them until their teeth rattle, tell them. Gauge their reaction—if they’re into what you’re saying, then keep it coming! It’ll feel more natural after a while, when you get more comfortable with it, and soon you’ll be dirty talking like a pro!

Cara Sutra said: If it's inspiration you're after, why not read an erotic book or anthology of short, steamy stories to give you some ideas and motivation. Check out sexy stories from publishers such as Cleis Press, Sweetmeats Press, Xcite Books and Totally Bound. I feature a different erotic author each week at my site if you would like to find out more about any particular author. Hint: Read Alison Tyler! Yeah, I'm a suck-up - but it's true. The girl writes HOT.

If you feel like you know what you want to say but you're shy about saying it aloud, then start off with some sexy texts or begin the chat on instant messenger. Seeing the words on a screen can be a fantastic bridging experience between your mind and the spoken word. When you're ready to move to the next stage, you could alternate between a blindfold on yourself during the foreplay/sexy session or the blindfold on your partner, whatever you both feel comfortable with. For many people it's easier for the filth to start tumbling if your partner isn't looking straight into your eyes. With their positive reaction and ongoing encouragement, I am sure that dirty talking between you will become easier over time. Good luck!

Molly Moore said: Harper and I recently recorded a whole podcast on this topic. (How lucky is that? The timing is perfection!)
Thomas Roche said: My recommendations for talking dirty cross over heavily into recommendations for "role play." Not all dirty talk has to be role play, but at the very least, you need to be able to divorce yourself from what your "real" self feels is "okay" to say and what you and your partner find hot. To that end, my best suggestion is to be willing to create "characters" within your own mind that you can be. Often fantasy life revolves around what we want our *partner* to be, or what kind of partner we want to be with (jock, cheerleader, harem girl, construction worker, stripper, dirty cop, Master, Mistress, string theorist...) and less on who we want to be ourselves. When trying to talk dirty, it can be helpful to create an idea of a person you WOULD NOT want to be in real life, or maybe don't think you ever could be (or could be every day), and let that person do the talking. You DON'T have to be a writer, actor, burlesque performer, etc, for this to work, although those skills are certainly helpful. If you want to be a nasty cop, pay some attention to how cops talk and then find the places where it can be pushed into power play or other iterations of filth. If you want to be a Mistress (or just talk like one) for a night or an hour, do some reading on pro Domme's websites to see what language they use when they're marketing themselves to potential clients. In developing characters, fantasies or ideas for kinks, you might want to Google some phone sex sites, as well. Yeah, they still exist. Because of the "virtual" nature of the phone sex business, there's a lot of energy put into creating characters (who, believe it or not, are not quite exactly like the person who would be taking your call).

Along those lines, reading erotica can be extremely helpful in developing dirty-talking skills. But there's a huge caveat with that I can tell you from experience that the vast majority of erotic is very focused on a) internal psychological landscape, and b) physical interactions. Those two things are certainly my favorite parts of erotica to read, but they honestly aren't much good for developing pillow-talk skills. Much erotica has very little dialogue, and what's there is either not focused on the erotic heat, or is clunky and awkward -- often reflecting how clunky and awkward talking dirty can be in real life. But there are a significant number of authors who have crisp, quick, erotically-charged dialogue that sizzles on the page (the author of this blog is one of my favorites), and I'd definitely suggest reading some to get in touch with your fantasies and what you want to say.

One last thing: Erotic dialogue often feels cheesy. As an erotic writer, I find it very hard not to push the "awkward envelope" at least a little. That's one of the many reasons dialogue gets short shrift in written erotica. When talking dirty or writing dialogue, it's easy to descend into goofy double-entendres, which are fine in written erotica but hella difficult to think up on the fly. Double-entendres are in-person sex-talk's potential nuclear option; they take whole civilizations with them when they go wrong. Puns are similar, and oh-so-tempting to those language-minded among us. 

Resist those urges. Speak frankly and directly, and be as filthy as you feel comfortable being.. Effectively talking dirty requires you to grab for the lowest common denominator... not because talking dirty can't be "smart" or there's something inherently stupid about it, but because the part of your brain (and your partner's) that analyzes text for double-entendres is generally not compatible with an explosive turn-on. Don't get me wrong, humor is often welcome in bed, and necessary, because amusing things happen. You can share that humor, but don't go out of your way to create it, unless that's seriously your scene. (I've known BDSM people who have terrorized their submissives with clowns. I don't get it, myself).

About the Experts, Alphabetically: 

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:

Sommer Marsden has been called "one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre" (Violet Blue). You can find her short works in well over 125 (and counting) erotic anthologies. Read more about Sommer here and check out a "snog" in her honor.

Molly Moore is the writer of one of the UK most successful sex blogs, Molly’s Daily Kiss. Her blog has recently be listed as the No. 1 blog on the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2012.

Molly is the founder of Sinful Sunday; a project to encourage bloggers to have fun with their cameras creating erotic images and also The Pussy Pride Project; a celebration of all that is wonderful about pussies.

Her blog is marriage of words and images and most of her writing is based on her own experiences and contains strong autobiographical content. She lives a 24/7 D/s based relationship as a submissive woman.


Cara Sutra is a sex expert and writer best known for her multi award-winning e-zine, This popular and regularly updated blog is home to a variety of sexuality articles and advice as well as opinion pieces, sex toys reviews and a personal journal.

Having worked in and written for the adult industry for a number of years, Cara is no stranger to all facets of sexuality including the evolution of cultural attitudes and the changing needs of men and women. Drawing on her own experiences whether in relation to sex, sex toys or kink, Cara is always ready to share her advice with anyone who has questions about sexual or relationship issues.

In her personal life, Cara lives in the heart of the Lincolnshire countryside enjoying all the adventures life has to offer. Her long term partner, meanwhile, despairs at the mountain of sex toys, high heels and corsets taking over the house.


In addition to being a widely published author of erotic short stories and occasional crime-noir and zombie fiction, Thomas S. Roche recently celebrated his 20th year as a volunteer with San Francisco Sex Information, a sex-ed organization that answers
questions about sexual health, pleasure, and relationships. He has been a training instructor there for 18 years, where he co-teaches a 60-hour sex ed training course twice a year in San Francisco. He also spent three years as the Marketing Manager at Good Vibrations and worked in marketing at sex toy shops and


If you want to add in your own tips, please do so in the comments. You know you'll be rewarded! And if you'd like to be added to my stable of experts (who I will hit up with questions from time to time) drop a note to msalisontyler at yahoo dot com.


September 12, 2014

F is for Tights

I would be remiss if I didn't point out that F is for Fetish is on sale this month for $1.99 for the Kindle. That is a savings of 83%. And with the money you saved, I have a possible splurge to share. But first...

Here is an excerpt from Kristina Lloyd's seriously sexy story Boot Camp.
If you scroll down this post, you'll find a snip from Shanna Germain's delicious Knuckling Under.

Check out this fabulous review in case you needed more convincing.

Now, speaking of deals, when I was slutting around looking for office supplies (because that is one of my personal fetishes), I spied the heading "back to school" deals on Amazon. As you can imagine, there was the usual plethora of pens, notepads, even coffee. Then mingled in with the rest of the basic September purchases was this delightful pair of Betsey Johnson tights. The image of the tights stood out pretty strongly between a boring plaid backpack and some sensible black loafers. Here's what I want to know... What school are you going back to that requires tights like these? I mean, I am a drop out. We're all aware of that. But I want to go to the fishnet school. I'm sure Skirting the Issue would be mandatory reading. Perhaps along with C is for Coeds.

Even better, that first link took me to these tights. Which also come in scarlet. Seriously, don't I need these? The grey are $6, but the red are $4 right now (just wrote "tight now" by accident—Freudian slip, anyone?). They usually sell for $20. (That means I can buy five pairs, right? I aced my math SATs, as you can tell.) Besides, you know me and tights!

So there you have it. Follow me, and I'll point you in the direction of discounted smut and seriously sexy stockings all year long.


September 11, 2014

Smut Marathon - The Results Are In!

It's Thursday? Really? This week has flown by. Every day, I have to check to see what I'm supposed to be doing. (Where am I? What time is it?) This is my excuse for being a day late (and a dollar short) on the Smut Marathon Results.

You should know that once I put up the poll, I make myself forget who wrote which piece. And I'm actually pretty good at that. (Especially since I forget everything lately.) I sort of erase that portion of my memory. At least, I usually do. But this time, I have to say, Oleander Plume knocked me on my ass. Her story, which was the first to fall into the in box, blew me away. And it blew the majority of you away, as well.

That said, I felt this round was particularly creative. The stories were all well-written and unusual and they masterfully evoked emotion in only 750 words each.

1st Place: Temptation by Oleander Plume
2nd Place: The Note by Marie Rebelle
Third Place: The Second Harvest by Alison Winchester
Fourth Place: Autumn's Eve by Angell Brooks

Unfortunately, we have to say a fond farewell to "Goodbye Summertime" by Kal Cobalt. Please drop me a note, Kal, so I can hook you up with a prize. And I'd like to extend a mega thank you to superstar Violet Blue for promoting this round and winning more readers for the stories!

Authors, I'll be in touch soon with a new prompt. Readers, hey—would you make my day and pick up Smart Ass for your Kindle?


September 10, 2014

Wrapped Around Kristina

Kristina Lloyd and I are swapping. 

In honor of her brand-new novel, Undone (out tomorrow), and my new title, Wrapped Around Your Finger (out yesterday), we are visiting each other's abodes. So please read a bit of behind-the-scenes from Kristina here, then slip-slide your way over to Kristina's to read a bit from me.

Undone by Kristina Lloyd

They say “Write what you know.” I say “Write what you’ll enjoy researching.” That may be one of the reasons I became an erotica writer in the first place ( I know I’m not alone here!) and it’s definitely one of the motivations behind my latest novel, Undone.  You see, I’m partial to a good cocktail or three, and so I made the central character in Undone, Lana Greenwood, the owner of a cocktail bar.

Writer friends on Facebook recently revealed some of the activities they’d engaged in as research: watching open heart surgery, learning to fire a handgun, having strap-on lessons, and, most heroic of all, reading Simon Cowell’s autobiography. Me? I just drank more.

I love cocktails. I love the attention to detail; the sense of occasion surrounding a single drink; the wearing of fancy clothes; the poring over a cocktail menu followed by a long, luxurious wait. Anticipation, in the bar as in the bedroom, counts for much.  And yet despite all that, my taste in cocktails is quite limited. I usually plump for a Margarita. Sometimes, I’ll have a Dirty Martini. And third down on the list is pretty much anything else on the menu which doesn’t resemble dessert. And after drinking it, I’ll invariably decide next time I’ll stick with a Margarita because nothing beats that sharp, sour, saltiness.

In Undone, Lana’s bar is called The Blue Bar. Lana is 41 years old, recently divorced, and also the owner of a vintage handcuff collection. The story starts when Lana has her first threesome with two guys at a house party in the country. On the morning after, one of the men is found dead in the swimming pool. Lana has the hots for the other guy, Sol Miller, even though she fears he may be implicated in the mysterious death.

Here’s a snip from Undone where, a few days after the party, Sol turns up unannounced at Lana’s empty bar.

“I selected background music just as Sol pushed open the door. My stomach somersaulted at the sight of him. Without a doubt, he was the filthiest, hottest creature ever to set foot in the bar, in part because ordinarily I would refuse to serve someone dressed as he was. Besides, people dressed like that don’t generally want cocktails. He wore dusty workman’s boots, battered, dirty jeans and a taupe T-shirt which had seen better days. When he’d said he worked in construction, I’d assumed it was at the higher-status end, as a site manager or engineer, not a run-of-the-mill builder. He seemed too educated to be a labourer and thinking such a thing made me feel like a snob.

But what the hell. He looked incredible. His tee hung from broad shoulders, his jeans hung from sturdy hips, and it was obvious that beneath the clothes was a fit, muscular body. His injured lip was now barely more than a patch of discolouration but he looked tired and tense. Stubble darkened his jaw and the skin below his eyes was heavy with shadows. There was hardness in his expression, his mouth set in a tight line.

I stepped out from behind the glowing blue bar, fighting my instinct to rush to him in a blaze of lust. ‘Hey, how’s tricks?’ I said.

He shook his head regretfully and strode towards me, snaking among the dinky tables, his manner sudden and strong. His aggressive approach startled me and I froze, confused. When he reached me, he briskly steered me backwards with a hand on my hip bone, our feet shuffling awkwardly, his big boots versus my espadrille wedges.

‘Sol, what’s going on?’ I asked.

A bar stool clattered into another as he shoved me against the blue counter, trapping me with his body.

Plaster flecked his dishevelled dark hair and he smelled like an animal, like dogs, semen, earth and multi-layered sweat. I could smell the salt on his skin, the pheromones in his armpits and the nicotine on his big, rough fingertips.

‘All I want to do,’ he said, in a low, threatening voice, ‘is fuck you senseless.’ He grasped my pencil skirt and yanked it up to thigh height.

‘Wait!’ I grabbed his wrists, trying to prevent him from raising my skirt higher. ‘I’ve got to open up. Happy Hour starts at five.’

‘C’mon, Cha Cha. Happy hour starts now.’ He wrestled against my grip, fighting to lift my skirt.

‘Sol!’ I squirmed against him, half laughing, pushing weakly with my body. ‘Mind my clothes. Come back later. I’ve got to—’

‘Mmm, nice.’ He pressed his chest to my breasts. ‘Do that again, baby.’

‘Sol, fuck off! I can’t—’

He shoved his hand between my thighs. ‘Yes, you can.’”
If you’d like to know more about Undone, please hop over to my blog for an excerpt, and check out the other stops on my Sexy September blog tour.

Kristina Lloyd writes erotic fiction about sexually submissive women who like it on the dark, dirty and dangerous side. Her novels are published by Black Lace and her short stories have appeared in dozens of anthologies, including several ‘best of’ collection, in both the UK and US. She lives in Brighton, England.

About Undone

When Lana Greenwood attends a glamorous house party she finds herself tempted into a ménage à trois. But the morning after brings more than just regrets over fulfilling a fantasy one night stand. One of the men she's spent the night with is discovered dead in the swimming pool. Accident, suicide or murder, no one is sure and Lana doesn't know where to turn. Can she trust Sol, the other man, an ex-New Yorker with a dirty smile and a deep desire to continue their kinky game?


Last night, the Smut Marathon Round 7 ended. I will post the results tomorrow!