Wickedly Sweet and Sweetly Wicked.

Reality Versus Fantasy

2012-01-27T05:32:00.000-06:00

This has been on my mind quite a bit lately. But I won't say anything more about it today, because the video speaks for itself:

Hey...Wanna Flash With Me?

2012-01-25T09:18:00.002-06:00

Today over on Hitting the Hot Spot, I'm talking about flashers -- flash short stories, that is! What kind of flashing did you think I meant?

Head over there to read a few of my flash stories and be sure to add your comments. Enjoy!

The Erotic Literary Salon

2012-01-16T08:38:00.001-06:00

This summer I had the wonderful opportunity to read a few short stories at The Erotic Literary Salon in Philadelphia. The beautiful Susana Mayer was the hostess for a night that included a lovely burlesque dancer, several exceptional readers and a launch party for A Week in the Snow.

I can't say enough good things about Susana. She is a very open and compassionate hostess, filled with true joy in the work she does with the Salon. Her enthusiasm is contagious and drew me in immediately. Within five minutes of meeting her I felt as though she were an old friend.

The Salon was held in the Bohemian Absinthe Lounge, the sexy upstairs area of TIME Restaurant off Samson Street in Philly. Dinner at TIME was delightful and highly recommended, but upstairs was where the action really got into full swing.

That reading turned out to be one of the best in my career. I had so much fun! The energy in the room was alive, vivid and fluid. The readers were all passionate about their words. Those who came to listen really did listen -- I remember well the feeling of being completely in the moment, sharing something delightful with a room full of people who were truly paying attention.

My reading came near the end of the Salon evening, so for much of the time I was one of those who sat back and listened. What a ride it was! There were tales that made me want to cry, and those that made me laugh out loud. The mood swung from serious and somber to raucous and fun. It was a rollercoaster ride of a night that hooked me from the first five minutes and made me want to do it again.

If you happen to be near the City of Brotherly Love and you need something to get your juices flowing -- in every way you can imagine -- then this is the place to be.

Tomorrow night is another hot evening at the Salon. If you're in the Philly area, why not go and enjoy? For more information, take a look at The Erotic Literary Salon website.

It's hot as hell when a man does that...

2012-01-12T06:08:00.000-06:00

Who's in the mood for a little naughty?

As A Week in the Snow begins, Rebecca is traveling from sunny Miami to very cold and snowy Iowa. Though a series of unfortunate events, she winds up getting stranded on an icy road. Richard is the man who comes to rescue her from a wintry cocoon.

Soon afterward, Richard is in bed, doing what lonely men in bed do in the middle of the night...

And...well, I'll let Richard take it from here.

Usually the fantasies that filled his mind were of a nameless, faceless woman, maybe dressed in leather and wearing high-heeled boots, daring him to come and take her -- if he could. Sometimes it was a trip to the sex toy store, where the clerk behind the counter was more than willing to try out all the merchandise with a good customer. When nothing else worked, he thought about two women, and that always seemed to trip his trigger.

This time it was the sex toy store. He slid his hand up and down, not quite ready to start stroking yet. He thought about sex toys hanging in neat rows on the corkboard walls. He imagined browsing through all the dildos and vibrators, not all that interested in buying one but intrigued by the different shapes and sizes. Then he would find the row of plastic pussies, the holes inviting him to stick it in, and the clerk would ask him what kind he liked most. Soft and slightly loose? Tight and a bit hard? Maybe really, really tight, the kind of pussy that would suck your dick even as you fucked it?

He started to stroke his cock when the clerk leaned over the counter. Her low-cut blouse rode even lower, and he got a good view of two large, round nipples. “I can help you find one you like,” she said. She licked her cherry-red lips as she looked at his crotch.

Richard made a fist and pushed harder into it, imagining how tight the clerk’s pussy would be, and how she would use it to great advantage. He pictured her bending over the racks of cock rings, helping him test one out as he pounded her from behind. He secretly hoped someone else would come into the store, a man perhaps -- one who would gauge the action with one look and decide that maybe that clerk needed a bit more than she was getting.

Sure enough, in fantasies, dreams come true. The man who walked into the store wasted no time in dropping his pants and offering his cock for the clerk’s mouth. She took it, moaned with approval, and rocked back and forth on two dicks. It was Richard who had made her want that, Richard who had the best of things, who would fuck her pussy until he made her come.

He tightened his fist and in his head the clerk moaned, her pussy getting tighter, almost ready to come by the sheer pleasure of his thrusting. He didn’t even have to touch her -- she was just that close, that fast.

In his bed, Richard arched his back and gritted his teeth, the orgasm right over the horizon, almost within his reach. He envisioned the clerk reaching back, between her legs and underneath herself, to cradle his balls in her hand. She would pull them gently, knowing just what a man liked, and when she did it would make him come…

Tap, tap, tap.

Richard froze in mid-stroke. His mind was pulled from the sex toy store back to the here and now, where he lay on a lonely bed with his dick in his hand. That dick was throbbing, right on the verge of exploding. The clerk vanished with the sound of another knock on his door.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, no. This isn’t happening.”

There was another tap on the door, this one a bit more hesitant.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, his dick protesting every movement. The erection that had been so enjoyable a moment before was now a source of pain as he grabbed his robe from the foot of the bed. He slipped his arms into it, hoping she wouldn’t open the door.

“Yes?” he asked, and blushed in the darkness at the sound of his voice, so rough and raw.

There's something so damn hot about a man pleasuring himself. *sigh*

If you're interested in reading more, check out A Week in the Snow in print or ebook. I'll put up more excerpts from time to time, because I just love to tease!

My Whiskey to Wine Evolution

2012-01-09T06:56:00.006-06:00

“Hold still,” he whispered.

“But that’s cold!”

Gentleman Jack hit my belly button. Droplets peppered my torso. One of them slipped down my side to pool on the rug. The light of the candles danced, spinning embers in the glass of the whiskey bottle. The liquor splashed between my breasts, seeped into my hair.

He poured fire into my mouth and thrust deep.

The whiskey flavored us both. He turned up the bottle and drank deeply. We began to move, deep strokes that kindled a fire in the pit of my belly.

“It’s not so cold now,” he murmured.

Ah, yes. Not long ago, there was nothing that tripped my spirited trigger like a shot of the good stuff. I preferred Gentleman Jack, both for the taste and for the nostalgia. Sometimes a shot of Patron found its way to my hand, but for the most part, it was all about the Jack. I even became a connoisseur of sorts, the one my friends consulted when they wanted to know if a certain whiskey was good enough as a gift for a special someone.

Over the last decade or so, my tastes have gradually changed. It started innocently enough, with a few bottles of wine from friends. I enjoyed them, but didn't really savor them or understand them. Fast-forward a bit and I have learned that I love blush wines, don't like most dry reds and have a sweet spot -- literally -- for dessert wines or the semi-sweet reds. What can I say? Maybe I'm a girlie kind of girl when it comes to my wine.

Over time, I am learning. I am learning what tannic structure means, and how the most interesting of words -- robust, full, delightful, heady, rich, dark, molten, decadent, aged, worthy, and so many more -- really do describe the moment of the first sip, or the first scent, or the gentle finish that is left after the first swallow. I am learning which foods pair best with which wines, and more importantly, why. I am learning how wine is created, how the intensely complex process works, going back centuries long before the first vine sinks into that particular soil.

But lately, I have discovered a whole other world opened up by the popping of the cork. It's about walking hand-in-hand into a little winery, greeting those who have the wares spread out before them, slowly tasting the good things they have to offer, rolling the flavors on our tongues while we learn about the grapes, the seasons and the secrets. It's about looking over a plump and happy vineyard in the heat of the summer, or seeing the promise in barrenness right before the winter, wandering into tiny shops with stone floors and welcoming hand-made signs and heavy doors. It's about watching the vendors carefully wrap up the wine we have chosen, then carrying the package to the car and settling it gently in backseat, a promise of what will be thoroughly enjoyed later.

Ah, yes. Later.

There's something about that question -- "Shall we open a bottle tonight?" -- that sends shivers down my spine in a way that the best of whiskey was never quite able to accomplish. It's all about drinking that sweet wine from my lover's lips, watching him sip the dark red liquid, feeling his hands become more amorous as the sexy inebriation takes hold, the kisses full and heavy and lush. It's about becoming bolder than we were before -- if such a thing were possible -- and tossing about words that make us blush, fantasies that make us hot, dreams that make us smile.

And then it's about what happens after, when we're both a little giggly and the slightest bit unsteady and a lot turned on, when the wine hasn't quite made us drunk but hasn't left us innocent either. It's about the taste of the grapes, and the taste of him, and the taste of us, all blended together until it is impossible to tell one layer of sweetness from another. It's about waking up in the morning with the slightest headache lingering, but that is nothing compared to the little aches and pains and bruises of a body well-loved in utter abandon.

It's about finding that bottle sitting in an unlikely place in the light of an early morning sun, of playing with the cork as I remember the night before. It's about setting the empty bottle on the kitchen table and leaving it there. Just because -- and why not? I like looking at it, and remembering.

Soon that remembrance turns to something more, and one of us will say, "Maybe we should try that little winery we saw a few weeks ago..."

And so it begins again.

Perhaps the Best Sex Toy Ever

2012-01-05T09:20:00.003-06:00

This, my friends, is the Njoy Pure Wand:

It looks like a sleek piece of art, doesn't it? Stainless steel, smooth lines, the kind of beauty that you might expect to find in a museum, not in a velvet-lined box underneath your bed.

It's a full 24 ounces. When I first picked it up, I was surprised at the weight. But the first time I used it, I understood. The weight perfectly balanced the gentle curve of the wand, and it made some playing positions quite easy...so easy, in fact, that the Njoy was instantly deemed the favorite of all the toys in my stash. (And that, my friends, is a pretty damn big stash...)

There is something about using this toy that feels downright decadent. Maybe it's that curve, which reminds me of so many luscious places to kiss on the body. Maybe it's the weight, which makes it feel less like a sex toy and more like something forbidden, naughty and wrong. Maybe it's the sleekness of it, or maybe the way it warms with my body, going from cold to hot with the speed of my arousal.

In fact, I was so inspired by this toy that I decided to write about it. For no reason at all other than I absolutely love it. No compensation or freebies or all of that disclaimer bullshit...this is a toy worth writing about just because it's awesome.

I get the majority of my toys from Babeland. Here's the Njoy, just in case you know somebody who needs one of these things.

An Excerpt from The Green Room

2012-01-03T10:37:00.004-06:00

The Green Room is one of my latest releases, and one of my favorites of all the books I have written. Here's the short and sweet, teasing blurb:

The glare of the spotlight, the paparazzi cameras, the tabloid snickers and the bad influence that flows as fast as a river through it all -- can love really survive the rigors of fame?

You can read a bit more about that here. But now, on to a sexy excerpt!

The concert that night was nothing compared to the sex.

Anthony’s hands were everywhere. He played me like a fine guitar, finding all the chords to strike deep within my most forbidden places. On my hands and knees, I braced myself on the rumpled bed. He slipped deep and I hissed in a breath of satisfaction.

“Is this what you want?” he moaned.

“For now.”

The motion was steady and unbroken. We were both dead tired, but that didn’t seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter, not even when his cell phone rang from somewhere on the nightstand. My fingers searched the polished top until I found it. Feeling entirely inappropriate and loving every second of it, I flipped the phone open and handed it to him.

“Yes…yes, I’m here in the hotel room…”

It was his wife.

I bit my lip and thrust back hard. I was determined that he would not forget who he was fucking, who had got him here, who had led the way to that recording contract he would sign in a few days. I swivelled my hips, reminding him who was really fucking whom. My lack of shame would bother me later, but right now I was too far gone with illicit pleasure to care.

“I miss you too, honey…”

He dipped one finger into the cleft of my ass. I pushed my hips up, inviting.

“No…no, I’m not sure…”

He thrust harder, and I reached under us to touch his balls. He struggled to control his breathing. He pinched my hip viciously, as if to warn me against acts that were far too indecent to carry on during a phone conversation. I squeezed with my inner muscles hard enough to make him stifle a moan.

It was a battle of wills, and I wasn’t the one holding the cell phone.

I picked up the pace, merciless.

“The show went well…I’m going to be in Alabama tomorrow…”

I looked at him over my shoulder. “Sodomy is illegal in Alabama,” I mouthed.

Anthony slipped out of me. He pressed hard against the tighter hole, the one that he hadn’t sampled yet. I pushed back and felt the delightful sting as my body began to open under his. I swivelled my hips, trying to make it easier.

“The show was great. Lots of fans…the place was packed…”

He held perfectly still. I thrust back slowly. I would pay for my little ingenuity in the morning, but I didn’t give a damn. I wanted to be as dirty and naughty as I could be while his wife listened to what she didn’t know was happening. If I had stopped to think about it, I might have been appalled by my actions.

Lucky for me, I was too busy fucking to think.

I thrust back harder, and Anthony’s cock slowly impaled me. I opened under the pressure with a burn and a moan. Anthony quickly covered my mouth.

“I’ll call you in the morning, honey…”

We suddenly found the right angle, the perfect fit. He slid all the way home, his balls pressing hard against me, every inch of my body throbbing with heat.

“I love you, too,” Anthony said to the Mrs Keenan as he began to move back and forth in earnest. He said goodbye, hung up the phone and tossed it to the floor. He grabbed a handful of my hair and thrust hard. Pain and pleasure shot through every pore of my body.

“Who’s doing the fucking now?” he growled in my ear.

I looked over at the mirror on the wall. I watched everything—our bodies, his thrusts, and my own face, flushed and wild with passion. I watched as he pushed my shoulders down on the bed, the better for my fingers to reach beneath me.

“Touch yourself. Make yourself come when I do,” Anthony demanded. I found my clit and began to play myself with the rhythm of his thrusts. The orgasm built from somewhere so deep it was almost frightening. I watched in the mirror until the pleasure of it made my eyes heavy, and I cried out into the comforter as I came.

Anthony followed right behind me, emptying himself with a harsh groan. For long moments there was no sound in the room, save our unsteady breathing.

“Oh, God,” I whimpered when I could finally catch my breath.

He slid out of me. I collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.

“Is sodomy really illegal in Alabama?”

I laughed weakly. “Sodomy is illegal in lots of places. Especially in the south.”

“What’s the penalty if you get caught?”

“Castration, maybe.”

I slowly climbed off the bed. Anthony came with me, one hand on my belly to make sure I didn’t fall. My shaky legs came through admirably, and I wobbled towards the bathroom. Anthony watched me as I stepped into the shower.

“Is adultery illegal or just immoral?” he asked.

“It depends on how good your divorce attorney is.”

Want to get your own, in ebook or in print? Go here.

A Moment of Reflection

2011-12-31T21:10:00.006-06:00

What a wild ride this year has been...

I considered writing a long blog post about the things that have happened this past year, but there are just too many things to say and not enough space to say them. There have been medical scares, devastating losses, new beginnings, bright horizons and significant change. More change than I have ever experienced before.

In fact, if there was a theme to 2011, it would have to be "change."

Some of those changes were frightening. Some were sad. Some were challenging. But thankfully, most of them -- the majority of them -- were sweet and good, the kind of change that makes better things grow.

So tonight, I leave 2011 behind with a humble gratitude. This year has taught me so much and brought unexpected gifts. Now I am ready to take those cherished gifts with me as I move into a new year filled with promise.

What are the themes of 2012? Discovery. Exploration. Love.

Here's to a beautiful journey!

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-25T10:08:00.001-06:00

Are you loaded up on eggnog? Are you sleepy from the big dinner? Are you surrounded by a sea of wrapping paper? Do you love your family but can't wait for them to leave? Are you dying for a chance to jump the bones of the one you love most of all?

If you're looking for a bit of Christmas cheer with your beloved, I have a few tips over at Hitting the Hot Spot that might get you in the mood. Go check it out and do these tonight.

I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday. I sure am! *wink*

After All These Years

2011-12-01T17:00:00.006-06:00

Has it really been many months since I last posted here? Time flies when you're writing up a storm! I have been busy with plenty of work, all of which will be coming to a website, ebook or print book near you very soon.

Speaking of print books, they are finally here! A Week in the Snow and The Green Room have been released in paperback. Though I really do love the ease of ebooks, there is something about holding a print book in my hands that never gets old. It's nice to see my words have found the best of both worlds!

Over the next few weeks, I will put up naughty experts from both. In the meantime, you can get your copies here.

If you're looking for a sexy snack of a story rather than the full-length sexiness, After All These Years fits the bill. It's my latest ebook release. Here's the blurb:

When Marilyn first meets William at the train station on a cold December day, she thinks he’s crazy. Soon she realises that he’s not crazy—just quirky—and she is stunned that he recognises her as the wife of Bobby Overmire, a Marine who was killed in the Beirut bombings in 1983. As time passes, Marilyn becomes much more interested in William than in the husband she lost over two decades ago. But William is harbouring a secret—a secret that could destroy Marilyn’s world all over again.

And here's a preview:

“What did Bobby tell you about me?” I asked.

William smiled and settled more comfortably on the couch. Tonight he wore a short-sleeved dress shirt and jeans, much more casual wear than I had seen him in before. When he shifted on the couch, the shirt showed a small glimpse of a very bad scar on his left arm, just below the line of the cotton.

“Bobby told me everything,” he said with a playful, ominous tone.

I laughed dutifully, then asked him the question again. This time he thought for a while before answering.

“He told me you like flowers. Yellow. You always wore yellow sundresses. You wore your hair up in a bun until he got home, then you took it down because he liked to see it that way. You burnt pizza every time, no matter how often you made it. You liked long bubble baths. You listened to him even when he thought you weren’t. You took care of your mother when she was sick.”

The words rolled from his lips so easily that I knew he had thought about those things for many years.

He stared into his champagne glass. “You sang along with the radio. You washed your hair with his beer. That drove him nuts. You had this pretty little nightgown that you always wore when you were feeling frisky.” William blushed, but didn’t look up.

I stared at him, not knowing what to say. William shifted again on the couch and for the first time I realised I could feel the heat of his body. The mere inches separating his arm from mine no longer seemed like a chasm.

“William…”

“You kissed him like he was the only man on Earth.”

In New York, the crowd was going wild. The gaudy crystal ball was flashing. As I watched, it started to drop. New York revellers were counting down the numbers with increasing frenzy.

William set his champagne glass on the table and turned to me. At the same time, I closed the distance by reaching out and lightly brushing his arm with the back of my hand. Though his left hand didn’t move, his right one did. He reached up and touched my hair, ran his fingertips through it, and moved closer. When I thought he would kiss me, he buried his nose in my hair and took a deep breath. He held very still as the numbers counted down and the crowd on the television screen got louder.

“Happy New Year, Marilyn,” he whispered into my ear.

He kissed me just as Dick Clark announced that the New Year had officially arrived in New York. William kissed me shyly, not touching anywhere but my lips. He nibbled with slow kisses at first, delving deeper with every one until his tongue touched mine.

It was like a match to dry tinder. I kissed him back, suddenly ravenous for what he tasted like, and he responded in kind. He kicked away the blankets and pushed me back against the corner of the couch until there was nowhere I could go and nothing I could do but kiss him right back. I was kissing him with every pent-up year of sexual frustration I had in me.

**
My loyal readers might recognize this couple -- they were introduced to you several years ago (again, time flies!). I hope you will take the journey down memory lane with them!

More soon (seriously!),
Gwenny

Come see me in NYC!

2011-06-29T15:52:00.003-05:00

It's almost here, and I'm excited!

On Friday night, July 1, I will be reading at Ravenous Nights in New York City. I will join the awesome Daisy Harris, Louisa Bacio, and Kathy Kulig to bring you steamy erotica that is just perfect for kicking off the heat of summer.

Here are the details.

There will be cocktails. Conversation. Naughty erotic words.

I promise I will do my best to make you blush.

Today is the Day!

2011-06-27T06:55:00.001-05:00

Today, A Week in the Snow is released! I am so proud to be a new member of the Total-e-Bound family, and so happy to be back in the erotica game after so many years away.

Help me celebrate! Head over to "Hitting the Hot Spot" to read an excerpt from the novel. Watch this blog throughout the week for more goodies, including a giveaway or two. Then join me in NYC on July 1 for Ravenous Nights.

In the meantime, get your copy of A Week in the Snow. Read it, enjoy it, and write to tell me what you think.

It's going to be a sizzling hot erotic summer!

Purple Panties and Clean Sheets

2011-06-26T06:47:00.000-05:00

It has been a long time since one of my short stories appeared on Clean Sheets, but I am happy to say this week breaks the streak!

"Purple Panties" is the story of a couple who have a very special pair of panties...and what happens when they lose them. I won't say more...you have to go read the story to find out the rest. It's free to read right here on Clean Sheets.

Enjoy!

Join me in New York City on July 1 for Ravenous Nights!

2011-06-25T06:02:00.004-05:00

Last week I read at the Erotic Literary Salon in Philadelphia. The energy in that room was contagious, as was the heat from the excellent erotic works! I walked out of there feeling all kinds of sexy, my face flushed, my body alive.

And I wanted to do it again...and again...and again.

If you will be in the Big Apple next weekend, come join me for another night of hot and sexy erotica. I will be reading at Happy Endings Lounge at 8 PM on Friday, July 1. Sponsored by Ravenous Romance, the Ravenous Nights reading always brings out a crowd and plenty of great erotica. I am so happy to be a part of it!

Here are all the details about the event. I hope to see you there!

You. Me. Philly. 8 PM.

2011-06-21T12:29:00.001-05:00

If you're in the Philadelphia area tonight, why not come out to the Absinthe Lounge and spend some time with me? I will be reading a few naughty tales, listening to others read theirs, and watching the talents of a sexy Burlesque dancer. What's not to love?

Here are the details. Hope to see you there!

Join me in Philadelphia!

2011-06-07T16:00:00.004-05:00

Would you enjoy a night of erotic reading? Would you like those delicious words that make your heart race and bring that blush of heat to your cheeks? Would you enjoy the intensity of sexual expression that a room full of naughty minds can provide?

I would love that too, and that's why I am reading at the Erotic Literary Salon in Philadelphia on Tuesday, June 21 at 8 PM.

There will be naughty readings. Cocktails. Lively conversation. The gorgeous Infamous Miss Mae. And the pre-release party for A Week in the Snow!

It's my first live appearance in quite some time, and I am excited! Get the details here, and I hope to see you there.

"A Week in the Snow" -- The First Preview

2011-05-18T09:13:00.004-05:00

It's good to be back...and it's so, so good to be naughty!

A Week in the Snow is my latest release. I'm signed with Total-e-Bound, and I am so excited to announce that A Week in the Snow will be released on June 27!

To start the celebration, let's start with a naughty kind of celebration. Here's your first sneak peek at the latest erotic fun:

She pictured him as well as she could, drawing on her memory of those photographs he had sent her over the Internet connection. She envisioned his broad chest, the smattering of black hairs, the almost-flat stomach and the strong, shadowed jaw.

She also envisioned those pictures of his long, hard cock, the photographs that filled the computer screen when she opened the file, the ones that made her mouth water and her heart pound. The thought of having that in her mouth or between her thighs had kept her dreams in high gear. Now he was within less than an hour’s drive, but there was no way she could get to him.

But she did have him in her head, didn’t she?

Rebecca grinned and rested her forehead against the cool wall of the shower. The emotion of the evening caught up with her again, but instead of the urge for tears she felt the urge to do something that proved she was alive—something vital, something powerful.

The water slid down her back, arrowed down over her ass and dripped from her pussy. She let her breasts brush that shower wall, too—and though the water was incredibly hot, the wall was still cool. The rush of sensation was heady, made more powerful by the emotion of the evening. She pressed harder, until her nipples were flat against the wall, hardening at the contact, her breasts tingling with the pressure.

She took a deep breath and arched her back, pushing her head under one of the streams of water. It cascaded over her face. She held her breath as long as she could. When she pressed her forehead against the wall again, she was breathing hard. She spread her legs a bit wider, and suddenly she could see the picture in her head of what she must look like: a young, sexy woman dripping wet, her legs open, her whole body braced, waiting for whatever a lover might do to her.

Rebecca stood under the water and let the feeling build. The fantasy took flight, the images of Gene’s cock in her head adding fuel to the fire. She thought about the way he sounded when he came, so strong and vulnerable all at once, and that alone was enough to send a surge of wetness between her thighs. She slid her hand down her flat stomach and rested it there, right below her belly button.

The water cascaded over her fingers as her thoughts took a different turn. She imagined someone was watching her, someone she didn’t know, and her thoughts of Gene slipped away to be replaced by this new, intriguing fantasy. She pictured a man behind her, watching her while she went about what she was doing right then, which was sliding that hand even farther down.

She brushed the inside of her thighs and pressed her breasts harder against the wall, pushing her ass out, bending her knees just a little to make more room for whatever fantasy man might be watching her. She imagined he could see everything, her pussy open and dripping, a blatant invitation to the cock that might want to slip into her tight, wet hole.

Rebecca pressed her hand against her pussy and rocked. She bit her lip to hold in the long, low moan. The adrenaline of the night was now heading in a decidedly more sensual direction, and she let all the emotion flood her, let it turn into passion as she rode her own hand under the dual showerheads. She slipped two fingers into her cunt and imagined the fantasy man behind her, watching as her fingers disappeared inside her, maybe moaning his own pleasure as he stroked his hard cock. She slid her fingers out, stretching her pussy for his gaze, inviting him to put
something of his own in there.

Her fingertips danced across her clit as she imagined that fantasy man moving up behind her, slowly, giving her time to move away if she was so inclined. She imagined his tongue on the back of her neck, tasting the water that ran from her skin. She could almost feel him placing his hands on her hips, holding the swell of them, and pressing the head of his hard dick against her opening.

He would slide in slowly at first, testing her acquiescence, but soon he would be overcome by how slick and hot she was. He would start slow and gradually move harder, faster, until he was almost ramming her, lifting her feet from the floor with his thrusts, making her struggle for balance as he began to ride her.

With a quiet groan, she pushed two fingers into her pussy. As she pulled them out, she stroked her clit, then pushed them back in. She kept it up until she was panting and trembling. The water slid down her body and she imagined it was the gaze of her mystery lover, watching everything she did, every move she made. She envisioned him waiting, holding back, and finally feeling those first contractions of her pussy around him, announcing that she had reached the pinnacle of pleasure she deserved.

She imagined the spurt of his cream, so much hotter than her own wetness, and that was the final edge of fantasy it took to make her come. She bit her lip at the last moment to keep from screaming out her pleasure as the orgasm swept over her, reducing her to whimpers and moans.

Her knees gave way and she slid to the floor of the shower. Her body thrummed with pleasure. It was enhanced by the adrenaline of the evening, strong enough to make her gasp for breath. She burst into laughter, her mouth muffled by her hand, trying to keep quiet, mindful of the man who was somewhere in the house with her.

She had never felt so alive.

In the coming weeks I will add more teasers for your pervy pleasure, as well as a list of upcoming appearances and maybe even a few contests. Stay tuned!

Stand

2011-05-15T14:42:00.005-05:00

I have to admit: I am not a big fan of Rascal Flatts. Not usually. Something about their music just doesn’t strike any of the right chords with me, so to speak. But several years ago they released a song called “Stand.” It was one of those songs that just hits where it counts. I remember where I was the first time I heard the song, and now I can recall that day as clearly as if it just happened an hour ago.

You feel like a candle in a hurricane
Just like a picture with a broken frame
Alone and helpless
Like you've lost your fight
But you'll be alright
You'll be alright

The lyrics spoke to me. Within the span of the song I saw so many things flash through my head. So many people came to mind. There was my mother, my grandmother, my grandfather and my little brother. There was my best friend. There was the man who loved her, the man she lost – the man we all lost. There was the random woman I had met at the grocery store check-out line, the one with so many mouths to feed and not enough money to do it. I thought of so many people who had been through so much.

It became an anthem of sorts. At that time in my life, things were smooth and easy. I was fortunate, and I knew it. But I tucked those words away in the back of my heart, just in case. There would be a day – I knew that for sure, even then – when push came to shove.

‘Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you're made of
You might bend ‘til you break
‘Cause it’s all you can take
On your knees you look up
Decide you've had enough
You get mad
You get strong
Wipe your hands
Shake it off
Then you stand

And when push came to shove, it pushed hard. It knocked me off my feet.

This past year has been one of upheaval and change. Not all of it has been good, but I am confident that all of it has been leading me in the right direction. There were times I convinced myself I had it all together, had it all planned out. Then there were times when I felt like those lyrics were written just for me, when they were so pertinent to the moment – times when I was so lost that the only firm ground was the ground itself, and so I was actually on my knees, in the darkness, looking up to see some kind of light.

Life's like a novel
With the end ripped out
The edge of a canyon
With only one way down
Take what you're given
Before its gone
Start holding on
Keep holding on

For every success I have seen over the years, it seemed like there was a parallel and equally large failure. These failures were often personal – it’s funny how a career can go so well while everything behind the scenes is falling apart – but I did what so many do, and put on a brave smile while the walls caved in.

Then there came a day. A night. A moment. A time when I decided I was done.

It was time to shove back.

There was no huge shift in my actions, nor was there a significant change in my daily life. Not at that point. But there was a shift in the atmosphere, a change within me that started to change everything else. Gradually at first, like the ripple effect on a pond, circles that started out small and eventually reached out to touch every part of the shore of my life.

I started writing novels again. It started as a way to get out the emotion, pour myself onto the page, cheaper than any counselor and probably more effective. I started to find the person I used to be, the one before the world took a toll. I started back at the beginning, just like that little girl with an old Royal typewriter, pounding out one line after another and hoping I didn’t make a mistake, because that corrector ribbon always left ink and dust all over my hands.

Every time you get up
And get back in the race
One more small piece of you
Starts to fall into place

The words fell into place. Sometimes it was difficult, the words jumbled, like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit. Other times those words fell into place with an almost audible click, so certain and true the aim. There were nights when it was just me and a blank page, staring each other down. Then there were days when the words flowed like water, so fast my hands couldn’t keep up. It was starts and stops, beginnings and endings, forward and back, until I finally found my rhythm. Until I found my place.

Today, I have a better sense of where I am going. The changes are not done yet. They keep coming, like waves rolling in – some small and not much in the grand scheme of things, some larger and more dangerous, some serious movers that lift up sand and shells and driftwood and all the trappings of a life before the swell.

But for the first time in a long while, that’s okay. I no longer fear I might drown.

I found firm ground, and I finally stood up.

Mark Twain put it best...

2011-04-11T14:49:00.005-05:00

Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.

Though I can understand why most might have thought I fell off the face of the earth. It's been a long while -- almost two years since I posted here, and almost that long since I posted anywhere else. I scaled back my public appearances. Even my almost constant stream of stories all over the web seemed to dry up. So where did I go?

The answer to that is long and complicated, but I will try to make it short and sweet. In a nutshell, here goes:

I started a freelance business. I loved writing erotica, but it was time to stretch my wings. What started out as an experiment grew at a rate that was sometimes downright frightening, to be honest. Soon I had a decision on my hands: should I continue the freelance business, even if that meant I had to pull back a bit on writing erotica?

I had been writing erotica on a professional level for well over 15 years at that point, and that's a long time to do any job. So why not try something new? For that and many other reasons, I forged ahead with the business. It did well, and I was quite pleased with it. I even tried my hand at working as a serious journalist, and wonder of wonders, I loved it -- and I was good at it.

All the hard work paid off, and soon I had another choice: Keep building the freelance business, or take the great offer to work for a media company. I chose the company, and it was a good decision to make. Sometimes it's hard to believe I actually have a "day job" after being self-employed and independent for so long. However, I love the work, and it gives me the freedom to pursue my other writing as well.

And that, my friends, brings us back to erotic writing.

I never abandoned erotica! I was still writing about the naughty things that happen between the sheets, but I didn't have time to do much more than write. As any writer knows, the writing is where it begins, but certainly not where it ends. There is so much more to being a working writer: tweaking manuscripts, making appearances, networking, taking the time to promote yourself and your novels, signing books and of course, getting a head start on writing the next one before the ink is dry on the previous book.

Of course, other things happened. Some personal, some not. Life changed. I moved to a little town on the Georgia coast, which is much quieter than my former home of Nashville. But I have also been spending time in a not-so-small town on the outskirts of Philadelphia, so in many ways I have the best of both worlds: the quiet and very private home in Georgia and all the cultural experiences to be found in the Keystone State.

Is that all a bit cryptic? Perhaps. But I have found a renewed enjoyment of privacy these last few years, and it's going to be hard to come out of that shell again. However, I intend to do just that, and it all starts with my new novel!

A Week in the Snow will be released by Total-e-Bound on June 27. This summer, I will be quite the busy bee, promoting the book on websites and in person. Look for me in Philadelphia, New York, and perhaps many places in between. I'm going to post a list of upcoming appearances over the next few weeks, as well as plenty of information on the new book.

It gets better -- there's yet another one coming soon after that! Then another...and another. Looks like I'm back in the erotica business, friends!

And oh, my. It's good to be back.

Are Your Sheets Clean?

2009-06-12T10:16:00.001-05:00

Over at Clean Sheets, there is definitely something naughty going down...

Indiana Jones, with Camera

Of all the stories I have ever written (and that's a lot of stories!), this one is my favorite. I hope you enjoy it.

Let Me Seduce You...

2009-04-01T16:35:00.009-06:00

Ah, yes. Seduction. That's what LoveHoney is all about this month, as they showcase the new Seduction anthology from Black Lace. They've chosen an excerpt from my short story to be feature this month, as well as an interview with yours truly!

You can read an introduction to the book here.

You can read the excerpt from "Rush" here.

And you can read my interview here!

Want to leave your own review of the book? You can do that here.

And...if you order Seduction, you get a free vibrator to help you act out a few of those naughty fantasies between the pages...what could be better?

With all this Seduction going on, it's getting a bit hot in here...

Are You Ready for Seduction?

2009-03-18T06:16:00.004-06:00

A hot read that leaves you panting for more, Seduction is a deliciously naughty collection of stories that allow the reader to indulge in many forbidden passions. This collection has a story to meet everyone's fantasy.

That's what CataRomance had to say about the new Seduction anthology from Black Lace. My little naughty "Rush" is among the offerings in this fantastic book. Here's a preview:

An excerpt from "Rush" -

“You’ve dipped this cock into more pussy than you can count, haven’t you?” she asked, holding his cock in her hand like it was a throttle. Her thumb was on his head, swirling in circles. “I’ll bet you’ve had more ass than you can count, too. And more blowjobs.”

He looked at her and said nothing.

“You’ve had so many fucks, they all blend together into a blurred chain of pussy. Don’t they?”

This was it. She was going to crucify him for his sexual past. He knew it was coming. How could he have been so stupid?

“And I’ve hardly been with anybody. I don’t think that’s fair, do you?”

He opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out. He felt almost two inches tall.

“I think I should have some pussy, too.”

David blinked in surprise. His cock surged harder in her hand. She giggled like a schoolgirl and sank her mouth down on his dick. Her tongue sucked and her lips drew back hard and when she pumped him into her throat, he went to redline. She stopped sucking right before he could get off.

“What do you think?”

Never, ever ask a man what he thinks right as he’s about to come. You just might get exactly what he’s thinking, and it might not be tempered with common sense.

“I would love to see you fuck other people,” David said.

Her eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” she said with an air of wonder.

She sucked him deep, one last time, finally giving him a bit of mercy. He came hard. He shot everything into her mouth. He saw stars. She licked and sucked until there was nothing left.

“Other people,” she murmured, and giggled.

David knew he was in big trouble.

*

Of course, he reneged on everything as soon as he was coherent enough to do so. Sure, he would love to see it, but he would never actually be able to do it, he told her. It was a good fantasy. Sometimes he thought about it. Not often, though. Not hardly ever, actually. And why would he want to share? He didn’t like to share. He wasn’t good at it. He didn’t want to share her. Would she want to share him?
She looked at him the whole time with knowing eyes and that wise little smile.

“Do you have anybody in mind?” she asked simply.

David sighed in exasperation. “Did you hear a single word I said?”

“Every bit.”

“Good. I think I made myself clear.”

“Sure. I’ve been thinking about a stranger. I don’t want to run the risk of ruining a friendship, so any of your friends are out. My friends, too. Friends are better kept as friends and not made into fuck buddies, don’t you think?”

He stared at her.

“Well?”

“You’re insane. You’re not fucking anybody else. That’s final.”

She winked at him and giggled again.

“Okay, big man. Whatever you say.”

*

There's quite a bit more where that came from - David and Katie have quite the adventure! To get this story and all the others in Seduction, get your copy here.

Forbidden Publications is Closing

2009-03-17T09:49:00.001-06:00

It's always sad to see a publisher fold. It's even sadder when that publisher has done so well, and when the owners have gone out of their way to take care of their authors. When so many e-publishers are making headlines for lawsuits, nonpayment, breach of contract and the like, a fantastic place like Forbidden Publications was a breath of fresh air.

So I was sad to learn that they are closing down at the end of March. All of the books they have offered these last few years will be pulled at that time, including a few of my own: After All These Years and the new, anniversary edition of Sex & Guitars will no longer be available. I will be removing the links to FP over the next few weeks.

However! If you are still interested in getting your copy, zip me an email and we'll make sure you get one.

It's sad to see Forbidden Publications go...they were one of the good guys.

"Memphis" in Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories

2009-03-05T15:28:00.003-06:00

Do you think hotels are sexy? Do you ever wonder what the couple in the next room are doing? Do you ever feel like a different person when you're tucked away in a hotel, hidden from the world in one of those rooms that have seen countless lovers, trysts, heartbreaks, heartthrobs, and other things you can only begin to guess?

You can find a bit of it all in Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories. You can find my story "Memphis" there as well. Here's a preview:

Is that how it started? Is that how affairs begin? With a simple gesture or word that suddenly turns an old friendship or a new stranger into a lover crying out above you in a rented bed somewhere on the edge of nowhere? Is it something that drops out of the blue and explodes like a bomb, fragmenting your life? Or is it something that plants inside you and grows into beauty and memories that evoke smiles, building you into something stronger than you once were?

I’ve discovered that for me and my married lover, it is a bounce in your step that everyone notices but can’t explain how it got there or exactly when it appeared. It is a phone call, a voice on the other end that is clearly a man yet when someone asks you who that was, you recall the name of your best friend who is clearly a woman. It is pulling up beside a sports car parked outside of a hotel in a town you’ve never visited before, an open door with the “Do Not Disturb” sign already in place. It is no time for words before you are rushed into a dimly lit room and surrounded by his arms, his voice, and his desire as you both collapse to the bed that has become your refuge.

He was married. I knew that as I walked with him out of the restaurant and slid into the passenger seat of his sports car. I heard her name in my head as he drove, one hand on the wheel and one hand on my thigh. I saw her in my head as the door closed behind us. I listened to her voice laughing with him as he pressed me back against that door and kissed me. I felt the guilt as I kissed him back, but I wanted him more than I wanted to heed the ethical conscience that was shaking its head in shame.

I didn’t hate her. I didn’t even want to hate her. She was my best friend. She was a good wife, a good mother. She was a better woman than me. She didn’t deserve this.

I slipped his wedding band off and it dropped to the floor.

Want to get the rest of the story and a few other naughty tales? Get your copy of Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories by clicking here.

Updates...Lots of Them!

2009-03-02T12:20:00.004-06:00

Where to begin?

Erotica Revealed gave Bedding Down: A Collection of Winter Erotica a fantastic review! They loved many of the stories in the collection, and they had this to say about my bit:

“Six Weeks on Sunrise Mountain, Colorado” by Gwen Masters is literally a cliff-hanger. The plot premise (celebrity recluse rescues the journalist who tracked him down in the wilderness) is one of the most unusual and dramatic in the book. Here is the first meeting of the hermit on the mountain and the woman who has risked her life to find him:

He found the woman at the foot of the ravine. Even in the moonlight, she looked pale as a ghost. Blood covered her forehead and a bruise was already flowering under her right eye.

Luckily, healing of various kinds takes place during six weeks of hibernation in a snowbound cabin, when the man and woman come to know each other.

If you're interested in reading Bedding Down, get it here.

And on to another anthology - this one Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories. My story "Memphis" is among the offerings in this collection. I did an interview about the story and sexy hotels on Rachel Kramer Bussel's blog - go here to read it.

And finally, a few of my short stories are popping up in other collections, too:

"Secrets in Turkey Bay" can be found in the latest edition of the Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica...

And "Rush" can be found in the new Black Lace Seduction anthology.

Much more to come!

Time for Bedding Down...

2008-12-04T13:02:00.003-06:00

The gorgeous Bedding Down anthology is now here!

Bedding Down: A Collection of Winter Erotica is on shelves now. My novella "Six Weeks on Sunrise Mountain, Colorado" is included in the book.

Here's the cover blurb for my bit: A billionaire recluse and a beautiful paparazzo generate some serious heat in a snowbound cabin in the Colorado Rockies...

And here's the first page or so, just to tease...

The weathered old porch creaked as Fletcher rocked back and forth in the chair. The moon slowly came up over Sunrise Mountain, casting its silver light over the cedar and pine. Snow had started to fall hours ago, the kind of snow that turned to ice as soon as it touched anything on the ground. The trees were leaning with the pressure on their branches. The road was impassable already, and would remain that way for weeks.

Fletcher was completely unconcerned with time and content to be snowed in. He went on rocking and listened to the snow settling on the old tin roof above him. Every now and then he spotted an owl, rising on white wings, gliding soundlessly over the treetops. The moonlight turned the owl’s eyes into bright prisms of light for an instant before it disappeared into the leaves again.

The shape of a small animal at the end of his long gravel driveway caught his eye. Fletcher calmly reached for the shotgun propped up against the porch railing, running his hand over the smooth barrel, ready to use the weapon if necessary. Eventually the animal left the shadows and walked through a shaft of moonlight, showing Fletcher the distinctive markings on its face – a raccoon. The little fellow waddled its way up the rocky road that surrounded the cabin and occasionally stopped to sniff the air, barely bothering to glance at the now-familiar man up on the porch. Fletcher relaxed and let his hand fall from the barrel of the gun.

Up on Sunrise Mountain, all kinds of animals might come hunting to his doorstep, but it was very doubtful any of them would be human, and that suited Fletcher just fine. He had jumped into the rat race at a fresh-faced twenty-two, straight from college to a high-pressure job in Silicon Valley. By thirty-two, the dot com boom had slammed with the force of a nuclear bomb, and he was a millionaire many times over. By the time he was thirty-five, he was so burned out he didn’t give a damn if he had a dollar to his name, as long as he had some peace of mind. There was no one he trusted.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that the worst predators were of his own kind.

Fletcher looked back up at the moon. It danced into the snow clouds, turning the world darker. His ears made up for what his eyes could no longer see in the dim light. Leaves rustled with the breeze. Tiny animals scurried around the sides of the cabin, bolder now that they were under the cover of night. A mountain lion howled, and though the sound echoed with menace through the wide valley between the hills, Fletcher’s confident ear knew the big boy was miles away.

The raccoon was still making its way up the drive. Fletcher had taken a liking to his furry neighbor and kept back a bit of dinner now and again, then set it around the porch for the raccoon to find. Fletcher liked to watch the pretty creature in the moonlight. It was the only company he had up here in the middle of nowhere.

He watched as the raccoon stopped in mid-stride and looked toward the top of the ravine. Fletcher slowly stopped rocking and listened closely to the sounds he understood just as well as his own language – the slight tapping of one tree limb against another, the abrupt silence of a larger animal when it caught the scent of a human on the air, the unholy scream of a hawk as it dove for prey. The raccoon listened, too, its tiny head cocked to better hear the sounds on the air.

Fletcher heard it then, the sound that was so out of place – a scuffling, bumbling sound, unlike any of the sleek animals so accustomed to wandering through the woods at night.

He rose slowly to his feet, staring at the place from where he was certain the sound had come. The raccoon was down on all fours again, sniffing cautiously, still as a stone. The sound came again, but the coon wasn’t making a move to investigate, and Fletcher knew that wasn’t a good sign. That raccoon was a smart animal. He knew better than to attack anything bigger than he was.

Fletcher thumbed the safety on the rifle and lifted it to his shoulder.

If you want to read more, you know what to do. Enjoy!

What Have I Been Doing?

2008-09-28T16:27:00.005-05:00

I've been rather quiet these last few weeks. There are several reasons for that, but the most interesting one has to do with a great big package I received in the mail. You can blame my absence on the generosity of Babeland!

Babeland is celebrating 15 years in the business of pleasure. My very first vibrator was a sexy little purple thing from Babeland. I wore it out within a year, but I loved it so much I had to buy another. Then another. Then something else.

Then I got my lover into the game, and from that point on, it was sex toy heaven.

I love Babeland toys for soooo many reasons. They are always reliable -- I haven't had a single one of them break down, and trust me, I've tried my best to wear them out! They offer some of the coolest and most unique toys. Most of all, the variety means I always have something new to look forward to -- whether it's the tried-and-true Rabbit, the Cadillac of Vibrators, or the cuteness of a Rubber Duckie. (Yes, a Duckie, I kid you not!)

I've done quite a few Babeland reviews for Clean Sheets in the past few years. You can find those here:

Getting Off Quick with Babeland

Getting Wet and Wicked with Babeland

Becoming an Expert with Babeland

Look, Honey -- No Hands! A Review of the We Vibrator

And you can bet I'm going to be doing more.

Happy Anniversary, Babeland! Here's to another fifteen years of orgasmic joy.

Want to Share Some Whipped Cream With Me?

2008-08-05T10:12:00.003-05:00

I've got a ton of whipped cream, ready to share with you...just take a look at the Whipped Cream site, where they took the time to interview me! (What did you think I meant, hmmm?)

In this interview I talk about everything from erotic writing to sensual research to...well, Coca-Cola and lobsters. Seriously!

Click here to take a look at the interview, and don't forget to join the WC yahoo group -- I'll be around this week, answering any questions you might have. Except maybe that question about my most embarrassing moment. There are some things even an erotica writer doesn't tell!

Do You Have Yours Yet?

2008-07-24T12:11:00.004-05:00

If you don't have your copy of One Breath at a Time yet (and really, why don't you?), you can get a sneak peek here:

Open The Book Here!

It is a suprisingly comprehensive feature, giving you half of the first chapter, the first page of each chapter after that, and some little extras. I was pleasantly surprised to see that you can read enough of the book to get a good taste...but not enough to give away the all the naughty things you will find on the other pages!

Take a look, tell me what you think...and then get your own copy to enjoy.

Sexy Stories...Whispered Into Your Ear...

2008-07-15T09:10:00.003-05:00

If you're in the mood for a sexy bedtime story, you can find it at A Woman's Goodnight, one of the 'hottest' new audio sites out there! They have everything from sweet and sensual to hardcore and kinky.

They also have one of my stories, a brand new tale of "The One I Couldn't Forget." Hop over to their Romantica section and check it out -- you can listen to a one-minute sample before you get the full story.

Let the hot and sexy listening begin!

I've Been Busy...

2008-06-08T10:21:00.002-05:00

Testing out sex toys and reading naughty books!

Check out Clean Sheets for my latest reviews. I've been getting Wet and Wicked with Babeland (oh, my, what fun that was!) and for inspiration, I've been reading about the sexy men who wear Hard Hats (apparently, those hats aren't the only things that were hard...)

Click here for the Babeland Review

Click here for the Hard Hats Review

Cheers!

I'm Back!

2008-05-21T06:31:00.004-05:00

I've been out of commission for a while, but I'm back...and with lots of new news to share!

My latest review at Clean Sheets is now live. I enjoyed Hard Hats, a collection of lots of sexy men getting hot and sweaty on construction sites...and I wrote all about it. Check out the review here.

My latest story is up on The Erotic Woman. "Better Than Brazil" is the tale of two people who grow closer and closer...and then they meet. Check it out by clicking here.

My latest column is up at For the Girls. This time I talk about dealing with that delicate balance of old friends and a new relationship:

I had ignored the sly digs she made when she thought I wasn’t listening. I had taken the high road and let slide the snide little comments she sometimes made about Mr. Right’s “ball and chain.” I had even defended her once or twice, when it seemed she was too catty for her own good, and chalked it up to the changes that happen when relationships grow.

But when she assumed how I felt, and immediately blamed me without a second thought, I had had enough.

When the claws come out, honey, I’m one little pussy who hisses right back.

Meow! Click here to visit For the Girls and read about the drama!

More coming soon...

I'm in the Spotlight!

2008-04-04T06:32:00.003-06:00

The Author Spotlight, that is. The good people over at Joyfully Reviewed asked me a lot of questions, and I had a lot of answers! I'm talking about my favorite things, finding happily-ever-after and what I think is the most interesting thing about yours truly. Oh...and I talk about writing, too.

Visit the Author Spotlight at Joyfully Reviewed to read the interview.

That's a Lot of Stars!

2008-03-25T18:04:00.004-06:00

Four and a half stars, that is. Lots of stars! That was the review from Romantic Times Book Review Magazine for One Breath at a Time. They think it's definitely worth a read! Pick up the latest issue of to get the full review.

If you happen to be in the Nashville area, the Barnes & Noble in Cool Springs still has a few autographed copies of One Breath at a Time. Get them while you can!

Another Reason Commitment is Hot...

2008-03-17T07:37:00.005-06:00

This month on For the Girls, I'm talking about that scary thing called Commitment, and one of those perks of settling down -- sex hotter than a mile of firecrackers!

The connection I felt with Mr. Right was fire-engine hot, the kind of sizzling seduction that kept me awake at night. I was in a state of sexual charge that was impossible to deny. One look at him and all the pleasure centers in my body lit up. I’ve read about pheromones and the things they do to the body, and if all that’s true, then Mr. Right must have been born with much more than his proper share...

To read the rest, visit For the Girls! While you're there, check out the rest of my Surviving Mr. Right column. It's all about what happens when the dating game ends and the real fun begins!

More Lovely Reviews!

2008-03-10T10:29:00.003-06:00

The reviews are rolling in for One Breath at a Time!

The Erotica Readers and Writers Association (ERWA) had this to say:

To be honest, I only picked up this book to see what it was like with the intention of putting it down on my to be read pile and getting on with something else first. Two hours later I was finished and typing up the review with very sticky fingers! Too much information? You'd better get used to it if you want to read this book.

And Erotica Revealed thought it was a good read, too:

However, cast aside your assumptions and presuppositions about the “prohibited genre” and settle back into the sultry world of passion and punishment that Gwen Masters has created. One Breath At A Time is the simple story of what happens when boy meets girl. However, Gwen Masters is a gifted mistress of erotic storytelling and the simple idea of boy meets girl becomes something extremely powerful in her skilled and capable hands.

Why not get your own copy and see what all the fuss is about? Visit your favorite bookstore or get it online. To make things easier, here's the Amazon link.

Enjoy!

Stories, Stories Everywhere!

2008-02-24T11:02:00.004-06:00

A few new stories for your enjoyment:

For those of you in the UK, I'm doing FORUM this month! "Amanda Hardison is Full of Surprises" is all about that dominatrix of a boss, and that man who can't get enough of the punishment she doles out. Find it in the FORUM "Vice" issue, on stands now.

Also in that issue is a glowing review of the Hide and Seek anthology, which includes my story "The Craziest Thing." If you're into showing off or watching, that's one anthology sure to fulfill a few naughty fantasies!

My story of passion and play on the not-so-high seas is up now at For the Girls. "Knots and Knots" is the story of a woman afraid of water, her water-loving boyfriend, and the interesting uses they find for all those ropes on his great big boat. It's part of the very, very HOT fiction section at For the Girls, so if you're in the mood to get all hot and bothered, go take a look.

Happy Reading!

Lots of Surprises Coming Up!

2008-02-21T10:29:00.004-06:00

My writing career has taken many twists and turns over the last several years, and now it's taking another! I'm so excited about the new developments, and I can't wait to share them with you.

To stay up-to-date on the latest news, and to get an inside peek at what's coming next, join my mailing list. And if you want the latest promotional goodies and announcements delivered straight to your snail mail box, send me your mailing address along with your email.

Big Surprises are just around the corner!

"One Breath at a Time" is a Recommended Read!

2008-02-15T18:18:00.003-06:00

Lindy of TwoLips Reviews took the time to read my latest novel, One Breath at a Time, and she loved it! It's a Recommended Read with a five-kiss review. Here's a snippet of what she had to say:

Right from the start, Tom has the toe-curling intensity that I adore in an alpha hero. I absolutely adore a loving dominant, and Tom’s character is among the very best I’ve ever read. He’s masterful but very caring and sweet.

Kelley knows almost immediately that this thing between them is right and she feels safe and cherished enough to give herself entirely to him, body and soul. It’s a complete trust that surprises her in its rightness. They quickly find a sexual compatibility and comfort zone that usually comes only with a longer relationship, and they work together to discover her sexual limits as a submissive. Can Tom help heal her shredded self-esteem, and find a way to restore her ability to fully give herself again?

One Breath at a Time by Gwen Masters has delicious intensity and passion, very likeable characters, breathtaking intimacy, and some of the hottest sex I've ever read. I devoured this book and didn’t want it to end. Without a doubt, this is one for the keeper shelf. I loved it.

Visit TwoLips Reviews to get the rest. Thank you, Lindy!

One Breath at a Time will be on shelves everywhere in March, but you can preorder your copy right now by clicking here.

That Naughty Green-Eyed Monster...

2008-02-15T12:51:00.007-06:00

Ah, what a jealous little woman she is, there on the cover of that book. And a redhead, just like me! Fitting, I suppose, because one of my latest stories is now in that pretty little book, J is for Jealousy.

How does a woman handle a rock-star boyfriend's nutcase fans? Listen in as one who has been there tells her friend just how it's done...

***

"I watched Adam work the crowd in the way only he could, signing autographs and making everyone feel welcome and special. He paid a bit too much attention to that little blonde slut who had been lusting after him in the front row -- she was right there beside him, moving closer and closer as she talked on and on about how wonderful he was. Of course he always had a thing for blondes and I knew that, he didn’t try to hide it and how could he? Never mind that I’m not a blonde. I teased him about it until he shot back and asked me to dye my hair.

Sorry...you’re right. Stick to the story. Good grief, you act like you’re horny or something!

This one couldn’t have been more than twenty, probably younger, with bleached hair and enormous breasts that couldn’t possibly be real. I quirked an eyebrow at Adam, and he grinned back. He had dealt with her kind a million times before.

Adam was looking at her, his full attention on whatever she was saying. He was just being a nice guy like he is, you know. But she was moving closer. Her breasts brushed his chest. Before anybody realized what was coming, she rose on tiptoe and slid her tongue into his mouth.

Oh, yes she did! Can you believe the audacity of that bitch?

What did I want to do, you ask? I wanted to kick her ass! But security was pulling her away and Adam was blushing like mad, and I didn’t want to make a scene among those fans who were already so curious about me as it was. I had to make myself scarce before I gave into temptation and throttled the bitch.

Adam caught up with me halfway to the bus. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t kiss her back. Where are you going?”

“I’m so tired of this shit!” I hollered as I yanked my arm away from him. Oh, hell. I wasn’t mad at him. Not really. I just needed somebody to take my anger out on, and he was convenient.

“I’m yours,” Adam said, as if that solved the entire problem.

“I just wish they knew it,” I said. I admit it -- I was playing the victim card. We had been over and over this whole conversation a million times.

So then Adam said, “Let’s show them.”

That stopped whatever I was going to say next. He had to be kidding, and I was not amused. I asked him what in the world he was thinking, what in the world he was talking about, did he really think that I would buy a suggestion like that as being the real deal?

Adam shut me up with a kiss. A good, deep and rowdy kiss, the kind that made my knees weak. He whispered against my lips. “I’m dead serious. Try me and see.”

I couldn’t believe this. He was actually suggesting it! There must have been fifty people there in the parking lot, watching us.

Waiting.

Adam’s cock was already pressing hard against me through his jeans. I heard someone laugh, then a murmur rose from the crowd as he bent his head and kissed me again, this time with even more passion than before. My resistance began to melt away.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the slut that had kissed him. She glared at me. Yes, she did. That fucking bitch. Just thinking about her now, all this time later? It still pisses me off.

That glare? That did it. He was mine, damn them all, and anyone who didn’t believe that could just watch this!

I slid my hands down his back and he tensed up, then laughed a little into my mouth as his tongue danced across mine. Did he think I would go through with it? Probably not, but the realization dawned on him soon enough. Every part of my body was primed and ready and as with all longtime lovers, he knew it instinctively.

I pinned my eyes on that bleached whore on the edge of the crowd.

“He’s mine,” I said. I was loud enough that everybody could hear. “Wanna see?”

One person laughed, and another yelled encouragement. A few people left but most stayed, jockeying for a better position. Adam laughed as he grabbed my shirt with both hands and lifted it over my head, leaving me no room to change my mind. The cool breeze fluttered over my tight nipples and made me shiver. Or maybe it wasn’t the breeze. Maybe it was the fact that we were being watched?

Let’s see how the tabloids wrote about this one!"

Enjoy the rest of the story and other tales of that naughty green-eyed monster gone awry: Get the book here.

Surviving Mr. Right

2008-02-12T13:46:00.001-06:00

I spent a lot of time in the Dating Game, and all of those ups and downs were chronicled in my Learning Curve Column at For the Girls. But one day the dating game ends, and then the real games begin!

Surviving Mr. Right is my new column at For the Girls. This month I'm talking about taking that leap from being a single person to a not-so-single person, adjusting to the little quirks, and realizing your world isn't just about you anymore. Here's a preview:

I stared at him in disbelief. A grown man left cereal in bowls around the house? Why hadn’t I ever seen this at his house when I spent a few days? It was one of those things I would have to live with, because even though he swore he would never do it again, a few days later I discovered a bowl of something – what, I’m still not sure – on the bedside table...

To read "Cornflakes in the Office (and other Adjustments)" click here.

A Fantastic Review for "One Breath at a Time"

2008-02-09T09:00:00.001-06:00

Amanda Haffery of Romance Junkies recently took the time to read One Breath at a Time, and she loved it! The book got the highest possible score and a Blue Ribbon Review! Here's a bit of what she had to say:

Tom and Kelley are exquisite. Both are dominant or submissive as the need calls, as it does numerous times throughout the story. When fate draws these two together, sparks fly and it's like watching a fireworks show. From beginning to end, I was in emotional turmoil. My heart was breaking for both of these characters at one moment, rooting for them the next and hot and bothered all the time! Ms. Masters is an erotic guru and readers of this genre should definitely be on the lookout for any books she has coming. Gwen Masters is right up there with Kate Douglas, Angela Knight and S.L. Carpenter!

Needless to say, this left me speechless. Thank you, Amanda!

To read the rest of the review, click here. (The review will also be live on Romance Junkies with their next update.)

And if you want to get a copy for yourself, click here!

Another Fantastic Review!

2008-01-25T09:06:00.001-06:00

Carrie White of the Association of Erotic Artists reviewed One Breath at a Time -- and she gave it the highest possible rating! Thank you, Carrie!

"This novel has been written with so much care and feeling that it literally drips off the page. You can understand the emotional pain and the physical pleasure that Kelley goes through from the first moment she comes face to face with a hunting rifle to its romantic conclusion."

You can read the review at the Association of Erotic Artists, or you can visit Carrie's Blog and read it there, too.

To get your own copy of One Breath at a Time, click here.

"From the Corner of Fourth and Main"

2008-01-24T14:24:00.001-06:00

I'm thrilled to see my short story "From the Corner of Fourth and Main" included in Ultimate Gay Erotica 2008. If boys on boys turns you on, this is one anthology that will trip your trigger over and over again.

Here's a snippet of my tale:

He leaned against the brick wall. The sidewalk thudded under our feet. He was my height, which meant I could look right into his eyes while I stood in front of him. Those eyes weren’t interesting at all, placid and brown with short lashes, but his mouth made up for that. He had lips that curled perfectly around a cigarette, the slow upturn that came from a pout. They were soft and supple and kissable, even here in the glow of the neon light. Those lips would have been perfectly at home on a young woman in a glossy magazine.

Those lips were made for sucking on things.

“You got a name?” I asked. The surprise flickered across his face.

“Yes.”

That was the best I was going to get, and it was good enough. More than good enough, actually. He just seemed like a Yes. He seemed like the kind of man who had heard that word more often than he had heard his given name. For a brief moment I toyed with the idea of testing him, of telling him to drop to his knees right there, but I didn’t, not only because I wasn’t brave enough to come out with such demands, but because I knew damn good and well he would do it.

In the moment of silence he pushed off the wall and moved toward me until we were mere inches apart. He was thin and lanky and hot. The heat from his body breached his thin t-shirt and my polo and went straight to the center of my chest, a burning ember that slid all the way down to where he wanted it to be. He smelled like cigarettes and whiskey and the slightest hint of sweat.

He waited until I shifted my weight and looked away. With a sly smile and not a single word he turned away from me and headed into the crowd. Only the merest tilt of his head told me to follow.

I did as I was told. I studied him from behind as we walked down Fourth Street and toward the river. He was thin but solid, his shoulders not all that broad, his hair a little too long in the back. He walked with a swagger, the only thing about him that suggested he was younger than he looked. A tattoo of symbols ran up the side of his neck, ending at that sweet spot right underneath his ear.

He led me down the street, then suddenly cut into a small alley. At the end of the alley the street rose and narrowed into a catwalk. The river rushed below us, and for a moment I was dizzy. I grabbed the railing and the whole catwalk chattered in protest.

“Don’t look down,” he called over his shoulder. “Look straight ahead.”

I focused on his hips, where the tapered curve of his back disappeared into the too-tight jeans. We crossed the grate and went up a fire escape. He took a running start, snatched the ladder with one hand and swung. He climbed it like a monkey up a tree.

I followed, the old paint chipping off against my hand, the metal burning my skin even in the cool of the night. I stumbled twice before finding my rhythm, swing and up three, swing and up four, swing and three, over and over and up and up until we came to a door that wasn’t locked and a room that was lit by a small table lamp.

“My place,” he said.

What happens at his place, you ask? You can get your copy of the book here.

Clean Sheets Reviews "One Breath at a Time"

2008-01-22T20:41:00.002-06:00

Gary Meyer of Clean Sheets has just reviewed my latest novel, One Breath at a Time, which he calls "wall-to-wall, explosive, virtuoso sex."

Here's a bit more:

Kelley and Tom's redemptive sex is much rougher than a mere bodice-ripping or two. Here Masters makes a major educational contribution by illustrating that rough sex doesn't have to mean crude or careless sex: forceful doesn't have to be brutal. She observes that negotiation isn't a onetime surrender, but an ongoing process. These lessons, as well as the concept of a safeword, are seamlessly integrated into the action. Tom checks in often to ascertain how Kelley's doing. In addition to a safeword, Kelley and Tom have a goword: "Please."

Go here to read the full review!

New Story, New Q & A...

2008-01-10T10:07:00.001-06:00

Alana is one of my favorite writers. Ever. And she has one of my favorite blogs on the web, filled with tons of her exceptional writing. Every now and then she posts a Question-and-Answer with an erotic author, and today it's my turn! At Mars with Mars and Venus, you will find a new Q & A with yours truly.

Also posted is "White," a short-short story about addictions. Sex addiction, drug addiction, addiction to the wrong person at the wrong time, addiction to all those crutches that make a crazy lifestyle seem somewhat sane. It's a hardcore look at the secrets of people who could be your next-door neighbors.

Go. Read. Enjoy.

Thanks to Alana for inviting me!

This Month on For the Girls: Introducing Mr. Right

2008-01-10T07:19:00.001-06:00

This month at For the Girls, I'm talking about that tricky moment when you introduce your Mr. Right to everybody else:

When I told them Mr. Right had proposed – bended knee, tears, huge rock for my hand – they were aquiver with excitement. One jumped up and down and screamed. Another stared at the ring and burst into tears. There were hugs and kisses and the round of ‘I told you so.’ Breaking the news of my upcoming marriage was like New Year’s Eve on Times Square. Everybody was happy, and nobody was worrying about what the future might hold, because it had to be perfect – right?

Navigating those waters is not all smooth sailing, and this month, I'm talking about what to expect when the "Congratulations" turns into "But..are you sure?"

And next month, look for a brand-new column on For the Girls, when I move from talking about the dating game to discussing the even bigger game: The Committed Relationship.

Enjoy the column, and as always, let me know what you think!

Worth Reading: "Sin in the Second City"

2008-01-09T07:00:00.001-06:00

I'm a huge history buff -- I spent four years in college studying little else! -- and I love my mother's native Chicago, so it was a real treat to read Sin in the Second City by Karen Abbott. It's the tale of a time in Chicago history that is often lost in the footnotes, but one that is vitally important: The moral battle between the brothel keepers of the Levee District and the Progressive Era Reformers, who did their best to stamp out not only the "sporting trade," but sexual freedom itself.

It's a book worth reading, and one that has earned permanent space on my shelf. Click here to visit Clean Sheets and read my review of this richly-detailed, gorgeous book.

"One Breath at a Time" is Available NOW!

2008-01-08T10:31:00.001-06:00

My latest novel, One Breath at a Time, is available TODAY all over the UK! You can get it at your favorite bookstore, or you can save yourself all that trouble and just get it online by clicking here.

Here's the blurb:

Kelley is a woman with a broken heart. She doesn't need another complication in her life, and certainly not another man. But when she stumbles across Tom, the things she thought she didn't want are exactly what she needs. As they fall for each other and embark on a compelling journey through dominance and submission, both lovers strive to shake away their dark pasts. But is blinding passion enough to keep them from being ripped apart?

And here's a preview:

Tom opened the gate and I drove through. I watched him in the rearview mirror. His jeans were slightly tighter than they should have been, perfect to show off that toned rear and thick thighs. His shirt was button-down, an expensive designer number that fit across his shoulders as if it had been tailored especially for him. I had been very surprised to see the tag, and silently calculated what that shirt must have cost.

‘Considering I only have three shirts that are suitable for going out like this, I think the expense was worth it,’ he teased. And he wasn’t kidding. The dressy clothes in his closet were few and far between. This was a man who was comfortable in his own skin, with his own style, and no need to answer to anyone but himself.

‘You are gorgeous in that,’ I said to him now as he climbed into the truck.

‘Maybe I should buy designer clothes more often.’

‘You’re gorgeous in anything. And out of anything.’

‘Somebody’s horny.’

I smiled and turned the truck toward my house on the other side of town. The sun was going down; streetlights were flickering to life. Tom rode quietly, his hand on my thigh, watching every move I made. At the first red light, he unbuckled my seat belt.

‘Hey,’ I breathed in mock protest.

His hand slipped between my legs.

Tom’s fingers pressed hard against my crotch, pushing the cotton of my leggings against my pussy. I was already wet. I relaxed my thighs and leaned back in the seat. Tom took the opportunity to push harder between my open legs.

The light changed to green and I drove on. Tom moved his hand away, leaving me aching for more. He gently flipped the compass hanging from the rearview mirror. He opened my glove compartment and leisurely explored the papers and CDs he found in there. He studied my registration. He turned on the radio to see what station I had been listening to, then turned it off again.

We came to another light.

This time Tom wasted no time. His hand slipped down the front of my pants. I opened my legs and he slid a finger deep into my pussy. Slowly he began to slide it in and out, fucking me with it while I bit my lip and tried to look as though nothing was wrong. The man on my left wasn’t paying any attention, but the woman in the turn lane was looking our way. Tom gave her a wicked smile and slid two fingers into me, pushing up hard on that magic spot that made me horny as hell. I leaned my head back against the seat.

A car honked from behind me. My eyes snapped open, and Tom’s hand disappeared. The light was green.

‘Fuck,’ I murmured, and hit the gas.

Tom busied himself with picking my purse up from the floorboard. He unzipped it and started looking through it, completely ignoring me. He pulled out the lipstick and twirled it up and down. A notepad, a tube of lip balm, a few pens – all seemed to be of interest. He pulled out a wrapped tampon and grinned before pushing it back down to the bottom. He studiously ignored my wallet but pulled out photographs that he found in a side pocket. He flipped through them slowly but didn’t say a single word.

When I came to a stop at the next light, he was on me.

His tongue slipped into my mouth, hungry and punishing. He bit hard on my bottom lip. One hand went under my shirt while the other went between my legs. He pinched one nipple while two fingers slammed into my cunt, lifting my hips off the seat. I let out a squeal of delight. His lips trailed back to my ear, where he bit down again before he whispered.

‘I’m going to fuck you in public. You know that, don’t you? This is just a warm up. One day I’m going to strip you down and spread your legs and give complete strangers a damn good show. You would do that for me, wouldn’t you?’

‘Fuck, yes,’ I growled.

His hands disappeared, and I was left dazed.

‘Drive,’ he ordered.

*
If you want more, you've got to get the book!

The book can also be preordered here. Though it's out in the UK right now, it will be released everywhere in March.

Favorite Things of 2007

2008-01-02T11:30:00.002-06:00

Over at Clean Sheets, we're welcoming the New Year by talking about our favorite things of 2007! There's pole dancing and must-see movies, good music and fantastic places, and even a crystal bondage sash.

Visit Clean Sheets to read the favorite things from our favorite contributors and editors, including yours truly! Then, go to the comments and tell us what lit your fire in 2007.

Coming Together: Under Fire

2007-12-24T10:30:00.001-06:00

It was only a few months ago when wildfires flared in California, scorching thousands of acres and destroying hundreds of homes. This Christmas will be quite different for those families who have to rebuild a home from the ashes.

You can help! A group of erotica writers, led by the impressive talents of Alessia Brio and Will Belegon, have come together for those devastated by the California wildfires. Coming Together: Under Fire features hot, sizzling erotica that will warm up your winter nights...and ultimately, help someone in need. All proceeds from Coming Together: Under Fire will be donated to the victims of nature's fiery wrath.

It comes in print and ebook, and is available now from Phaze. Click here to order yours.

Here's an excerpt from my story in Coming Together: Under Fire. Enjoy!

* * *

The End of the World
by Gwen Masters

Australia, 1978

The Gibson Desert was the end of the world.

I was certain of this. I stood on the hood of the old Land Rover, the one with the three useless canisters full of petrol in the back. I turned in a complete circle and gazed in every direction. The vast emptiness made me dizzy. There was nothing there. Nothing. Only the tracks from whence we came, and those were quickly disappearing under the weight of the wind. Australia was a big country with more sand than was good for it.

Patrick sat in the front seat and surveyed the map. He had a compass in his hand. His face looked grim.

“How much farther?” I asked. “Can we walk it?”

Patrick snorted with mirthless laughter. “Sure. In a bloody month or so.” He flung the map down on the passenger seat and yanked his hat down over his eyes. The floppy brim obscured all but his mouth, which was set in a long, thin line of annoyance.

We had set out from Alice Springs a few days earlier, determined to try our luck at the crossing. It was ridiculous to most, but to us it was necessary. We didn’t want to go along the conventional beaten path. A photographer and a writer, out in the middle of nowhere; it would make for a few good books. Besides that, it was a personal mission. We were working on the goals we had set for ourselves, and hopefully our failing marriage would keep stride with the victories.

It was working until that engine threw God-knows-what and stopped us dead in the middle of no-man’s land.

“You could help me here instead of getting so upset,” I snapped. “We have to think.”

“Okay.” Patrick yanked the hat off and slapped it on the dashboard. Dust and sand flew from it in a beige cloud. “Let’s think. We have a Rover that has gone belly-up. We have a radio that doesn’t fucking work. We have enough water to last for three days, no more. We are in the middle of the desert and the next outpost is four hundred clicks away. What do I think? I think we’re in a goddamn bloody mess, that’s what I think.”

“Three days of water?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“That’s what I said,” he said, spacing the words out as if I were slow.

“How the fuck did that happen?” My hands were on my hips and I was glaring at him. I knew what picture I made, and I knew he hated it. I didn’t care. Right now I was very close to hating him.

“It happened because I thought we would be there in time!” he exploded. “I’m not an outback photographer. I shoot runway models, for crying out loud. I eat catering. Not...not snake and snipe and whatever that bloody dog thing is—“

“Dingo?”

“Yes!”

“You have never eaten dingo. Stop being melodramatic. I’m the only person out here and I’m not going to listen to your bullshit.” I leapt from the top of the Rover and landed smoothly on the sand. The heat of it immediately warmed the bottom of my boot. The sun wasn’t overhead yet, but she was well on her way.

Patrick slammed his hat against the dashboard again. I looked at the ground, where two pieces of metal lay in the narrowing shadows. Those had come from the engine. And I had no idea where they went or how to put them back. There were no tools in the Rover anyway.

We were well and stuck.

I climbed into the back of the Rover and unfastened the canvas tarp that served as a roof. Patrick watched as I rolled it across to the windshield and fastened it down. “That makes it hotter,” he complained.

“The sun is worse.”

“You would know,” he said snidely. “Why don’t you just call your Outback Jack ex-boyfriend to hop over on a wallaby and save us?”

I looked out over the desert, trying to think. “Camel.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t ride wallaby, for God’s sake. You ride camel.”

Patrick snorted in annoyance. I watched the shadows and the wind gather together. This was a land of mirages. I wondered if I might see one. It would surely be better than the guy sitting next to me.

Patrick tapped a pen over and over against the steering wheel. The sound was maddening, but I wasn’t about to give in and snap at him about it. Fighting would not help matters. It wouldn’t help the situation we were in and it damn sure wouldn’t help our marriage. I was on the verge of being done with him for good, and I was almost certain Patrick would reach that point very soon. Perhaps even today.

Why the hell had I shacked up with him anyway? That’s all it had been. The sex with Patrick had been spectacular from the night we met – literally. I never fucked on the first date until Patrick. But it was so damn good, I couldn’t feel ashamed about it. One night led to a weekend and then a week and then six months later I was pregnant. The shotgun wedding was romantic enough, and then the miscarriage came three weeks later. Patrick and I were left with a marriage from which the foundation had disappeared.

We had battled it out for three years, which was about two years too long.

But the sex? Christ, it was good.

“What are you thinking about?” Patrick snapped out of the blue. I jerked back to reality.

“Huh?”

“What? Outback Jack?”

I sneered at him. “I was thinking about what a good fuck you are,” I said bluntly. Even in the midday desert heat, I could see Patrick’s furious blush.

“Liar.”

“What is the point in lying at this late date? We’re going to leave each other, you know. Our marriage is over. Our lives might be too. What good would it do to lie?”

Patrick glared at me and got out of the Rover. He took off at a slow jog, looking from side to side as he ran. So he was going to be the big hero. What was he looking for? Something I had been unable to see from standing on top of the Rover and gazing out over the gravel hills and sand dunes?

I couldn’t wait to divorce the pompous bastard.

* * *

Get the rest of the story and other hot erotica in Coming Together: Under Fire. The erotica will warm your body, and the giving will warm your heart.

George Clooney!

2007-12-07T06:57:00.001-06:00

I found this Clooney video absolutely hilarious...though Larry Craig is probably all kinds of offended.

Lovely Reviews of Other Works...

2007-12-03T09:55:00.002-06:00

Just today I discovered In the Library Reviews, where they seemed to enjoy two of my tales. "Better Than Brazil" is part of the Erotic Tales 2 anthology, and "At the Office" is part of the Bosslady anthology, both edited by Justus Roux.

Click here to read the good things In the Library Reviews had to say about them!

And of course, if you want to get those anthologies or see others that feature my stories, go to my Books page by clicking here.

More Babeland Fun!

2007-11-21T09:10:00.001-06:00

Looking for the perfect holiday gift for the woman who has everything?

Over at Clean Sheets, I'm talking about the latest goodies from the folks at Babeland -- the Get Off Quick Kit, worth every penny and then some. We had a great time with it, and it's now one of those "top shelf" toys that will be a favorite for a long time to come...so to speak.

Check out my review here.

"You Think I Owe You...What?"

2007-11-14T10:40:00.001-06:00

This month at For the Girls, I'm talking about dating disasters...like those times when a date seems to think spending money on a good time means he might get much more than a little kiss at the door...

"The one that really got to me was Andrew. Not his real name, of course – I’m changing his name to protect the undeniably guilty, even though he probably doesn’t deserve it. That was Andrew’s problem, really. He thought he deserved much more than he got, but we’ll get to that in a minute..."

Visit For the Girls to read my dish about dating disasters: the bad, the worse, and the unspeakable.

Another Fantastic Review!

2007-11-12T12:51:00.002-06:00

My little novella, After All These Years, just got another great review! Lacey at Bluegrass Romance Reviews calls the story "a definite keeper." Thank you so much, Lacey!

Go here to read the review.

And if you don't have your copy yet, you can take care of that problem by clicking here. I hope you enjoy it as much as Lacey did!

"Indiana Jones, with Camera"

2007-11-09T07:24:00.002-06:00

"Indiana Jones, with Camera" is a story I considered not publishing at all. Sometimes a story can be so intensely personal, cut so close to your true emotions, that you have to take a long pause before deciding to send it out there into the world where anybody can read it.

I've written an erotic memoir, and I had little problem putting that out there for the world to read. So why is "Indiana Jones, with Camera" different?

Honestly, I have no idea.

"Indiana Jones, with Camera" is now available to read, free of charge, at The Erotic Woman. I hope you enjoy the story.

(By the way...the photograph above is by Roger Fenton, from 1855. The title is "The Valley of the Shadow of Death." Roger Fenton was one of the first war photographers.)

New Interview at Night Owl Romance

2007-11-08T10:45:00.001-06:00

I'm talking quite a bit lately!

This time it's at Night Owl Romance, where I answered all sorts of questions about writing. Night Owl Romance also gave my latest novella, After All These Years, a fantastic review. If you don't have your copy yet, why not go here and check it out, then tell me what you think? In the meantime...

Read the Night Owl Romance interview here.

Country Music's Biggest Night!

2007-11-07T06:45:00.001-06:00

It's Country Music's Biggest Night! The CMA Awards will happen tonight at the Sommet Center in Nashville. On television, they will air tonight on ABC, starting at 8 PM eastern, 7 PM central.

My husband and I sat down several weeks ago and discussed who we thought would take home the coveted trophies. If you missed our comments back then, here are the links to all three parts:

CMA Predictions with Scott Roland: Part One

CMA Predictions with Scott Roland: Part Two

CMA Predictions with Scott Roland: Part Three

Soon -- after we've recovered from the inevitable sleep-deprivation! -- we'll talk about who took home the awards, who had the best acceptance speech, who wore that dress, and all sorts of tidbits from behind the scenes. In the meantime, enjoy the CMAs!

New Interview at Bluegrass Romance Reviews

2007-11-06T11:08:00.002-06:00

This week got comfy in my chair, poured a perfect cocktail, and enjoyed the opportunity to talk with Gracie of Bluegrass Romance Reviews. The questions were unusual -- this was not at all your typical kind of interview. I had such fun doing this!

Read the interview here.

Thanks, Gracie!

"After All These Years" is a Reviewer Top Pick!

2007-11-05T07:39:00.002-06:00

At Night Owl Romance, reviewer Sara loved After All These Years. Here's a bit of what she had to say:

"After All These Years" is a book that will keep you reading to the end. It's full of emotion and suspense...a story worth taking the time to read.

Thank you so much, Sara!

To read the whole review, click here.

An Excerpt from "After All These Years"

2007-10-28T19:22:00.001-06:00

“You are a gift,” the stranger murmured.

I didn’t feel like a gift. I was a forty-something mother of three children who hadn’t flown the nest so much as they had fallen from it. I had too much gray in my hair, an aching back, and a minimum wage job at a fast food restaurant that always left me with a rabid distaste of anything fried. It was the dead of winter in Chicago, the snow was piled up in high drifts everywhere, and my train was more than fashionably late.

I looked up from my book and wiped the hair from my eyes. My boggan cap was too small—it was something left over from the kids, and it must have been from the middle school years, considering how old the thing was. I touched it and was suddenly aware of my well-bitten fingernails.

“What did you say?” I was certain I had heard him wrong.

The man was tall. His brown hair was long, curls and waves that fell to his shoulders, graying at the temples. The cold wind picked it up and blew it back from his face. He was dressed in a trench coat, one of those plaid ones that always reminded me of private dicks in old-fashioned movies. He looked like he needed a good shave and a long nap.

“You are a gift,” he said again, and this time I was certain I had heard him correctly. I was also certain he was a little bit nuts. They were everywhere, especially this time of year.

“I don’t have any change to spare,” I said, and looked back down at my novel.

A laugh rumbled up out of him. It was low and soft and kept going, like a train coming down the tracks. I looked back up at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. His head was thrown back and he was looking up at the gray sky, at the clouds that hovered too close. The laughter broke loose. It was loud and full-bodied, the kind of laugh that comes from a man who has no worries in the world.

The belt of his trench coat opened a bit and I caught a glimpse of what had to be silk underneath it. That’s when I noticed his shoes, polished to a high shine. On his wrist was a watch that looked expensive.

“Oh, shit,” I said. “I’m sorry. I thought–well, you know what I thought.”

He stopped laughing. It seemed to take a massive effort. “It has obviously been a long time since you thought of yourself as a gift.”

“A gift?” I looked at him closely. He could still be one of those nutcases. He might just have a lot of money to take with him while he went down to the funny farm.

“A gift, a present, a Christmas delight,” he said merrily, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to understand.

“You lost me.”

He looked around at the other people nearby. Most of them were sitting on benches and not paying the least bit of attention. This was the part of town where someone could be mugged and nobody would lift a finger to stop it.

“These people sit here among angels, and they haven’t a clue.”

Then I knew he was nuts. I looked back down at my book, hoping he would get the hint. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“You think I’m crazy.”

I nodded and kept reading.

“I don’t blame you for thinking that. It’s not every day that you run into someone like me, Marilyn.”

I slowly looked up. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, grinning at me.

“What did you say?”

“Marilyn,” he said softly, teasingly, like a little kid whispering a secret into a friend’s ear.

A cold chill ran through me, despite the thick hand-me-down coat and the heavy boots I wore. “How do you know my name?”

He ignored my question and looked up at the sky again. “We’re going to have more snow. The forecasters said another five inches, but I’m betting more like ten. The clouds feel generous, don’t they?”

I looked up at the clouds. They were heavy, pregnant with snow. Even as I looked up, a few flakes drifted down and melted on my face. I looked back at him, but he was still contentedly scanning the skies.

“How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“You’re full of questions, Marilyn.” That teasing note was back.

The rumble of the train drifted up from down the track, and those around me stood and gathered their belongings. I was already five minutes late for work, and, after the train made its rounds, I would be a half-hour late, but I didn’t move. I sat there on the bench while the train stopped. People disembarked in a flurry of discussions and laughter. Others boarded and then it was gone, leaving the smell of oil lingering behind.

“I’m glad you chose not to go,” he said conversationally. “I mean, of course you should have, you have a job and I know that, but I’m just as selfish today as the clouds are generous. Would you walk with me?”

“Tell me how you know my name,” I demanded.

His smile faltered. “You won’t walk with me, will you?”

I glanced at my old Timex and gathered my belongings. I was so late for work it probably wouldn’t matter now if I got there at all. I might even get fired. I stood up and turned away from the man, who still hadn’t moved.

“I guess that means no,” he said.

I glared and flipped him the bird. I put my backpack on my shoulder and stuck my book down in the deep pocket of my carpenter pants.

His calm voice came from behind me. “He told me you were stubborn as hell. That’s one of the things he loved so much about you.”

“Who?”

“Why, Marilyn,” he said with what seemed genuine puzzlement. “Bobby, that’s who.”

That stopped me.

The rest of the tale is available now at Forbidden Publications. Click here to learn more!

A Great Review for the "He's On Top" Anthology

2007-10-26T11:08:00.001-05:00

Rachel Kramer Bussel edited He's on Top: Erotic Stories of Male Dominance and Female Submission, and I am thrilled that she included my story, "Confession." Now Blowfish has given the book a fantastic review (and they seem to like my story, too!):

How much hotter is the humiliation when you know she wants it? Celebrating the romance of BDSM from the male top's perspective, the mindfuckery in He's on Top makes perfect fare for kinky newbies, couples and longtime play partners. Penned with mutually empowered perspectives in mind, each tale reminds us that power-play can indeed be safe, sane and consensual, reliant on more than props and rote scenarios. Andrea Dale's "On the Twelfth Day" counts down the days to Christmas with progressively kinkier pain-inducing tasks and toys, while the couple in Shanna Germain's "The Sun is an Ordinary Star" morph a woman's cancer recovery into a brilliant way to transcend pain in ways that can be controlled. The psychological twists, rape fantasy and sexplay in Gwen Masters' "Confession" reinvigorate a couple's previously vanilla relationship. All of the power exchanges in this anthology put less emphasis on the brute, more on the force. A bittersweet collection for those who love the kinkier side of sex.(2007, 177 pp)

Hide and Seek

2007-10-26T07:21:00.001-05:00

I'm happy to be included in Hide and Seek, the great new anthology from Cleis Press. Not only did I get to write another hot story, I got to work with both of my favorites, Alison Tyler and Rachel Kramer Bussel, at the same time. -swoon-

Here's the press release for the book. Do you have yours yet?

***

In this sizzling collection from the editors of Caught Looking, these voyeurs and exhibitionists go all out in their quest for the perfect peep show.

Hide and Seek
Erotic Stories
Edited by Alison Tyler
and Rachel Kramer Bussel

"I tend to think that all writers are exhibitionists of some sort, begging
readers to feast their eyes on our most salacious output. We want people to
watch us get naked as we explore our deepest fantasies, the kinds that make us
blush and squirm and shift in our seats…But we writers are also voyeurs,
constantly absorbing everything around us, our eyes zooming in on all the
pertinent details, the little moments that make sex all the hotter for their
simplicity. We notice the details, and we want you to know that we’re watching
your every move.”
— from the introduction by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Get a front row seat for the steamiest live action with prolific erotica editors Alison Tyler and Rachel Kramer Bussel as the men and women of Hide and Seek strip, tease, and make you beg for more! In Saskia Walker’s “Counting the Days,” an office worker flashes a window washer who can’t believe his good fortune. An adventurous couple performs in the back seat for their cab driver as they hurtle through midtown at 4 a.m. in “Operator 84” by Thomas S. Roche. Whether putting on a deliberate show for an eager audience or looking into the hidden lives of their neighbors, these characters want you to peek as much as you want to look.

If you love to watch -- or be watched -- this one's for you! You can get it here.

After All These Years

2007-10-25T06:47:00.001-05:00

After All These Years is my second release from Forbidden Publications, and it's now available! I'm so excited to see one of my favorite novellas out there for you to enjoy. (And isn't that a gorgeous cover?)

Here's the blurb:

When Marilyn first meets William at the train station on a cold December day, she thinks he’s crazy. Soon she realizes that he’s not crazy — just quirky — and she is stunned that he recognizes her as the wife of Bobby Overmire, a Marine who was killed in the Beirut bombings in 1983. As time passes, Marilyn becomes much more interested in William than in the husband she lost over two decades ago. But William is harboring a secret — a secret that could destroy Marilyn’s world all over again.

I'm very happy with this one. It took a long time to write, mostly because of all the research involved, but I think you'll like the end result just as much as I do!

To read an excerpt (or to go ahead and buy the book!) click here.

You...Me...Wanna Get Together and Chat?

2007-10-24T23:02:00.001-05:00

Come join me on Thursday, October 25 at the Forbidden Publications Chat Room, where we will celebrate the new releases, including my new release, After All These Years.

What: Release Celebration for After All These Years
When: Thursday, October 25.
Time: 6 PM Pacific, 7 PM Mountain, 8 PM Central, 9 PM Eastern.
Where: Forbidden Publications Chat Room.
Who: You, and bring along your friends!

I'll have a lemon drop martini beside me. Maybe more than one. Things could get interesting. -wink-

New Interview at Romance at Heart Magazine

2007-10-24T22:35:00.002-05:00

My latest interview is up at Romance at Heart Magazine! It's a great place with a ton of leads on new books, fresh new authors and reviews. This time I'm talking about my new books, works in progress, the business of writing and how my personal life meshes with my career.

Click here to read my interview.

I'm Blushing Again!

2007-10-22T09:37:00.002-05:00

I'm making another appearance on the Blushing Ladies Journal with my response to their latest essay question:

What turns you on? What turns you off?

I enjoyed talking about the things that really set my heart to fluttering and my thighs to trembling. You'll have to scroll about halfway down to find mine, as I'm sandwiched between lots of other erotica authors...

That's a good reason to be blushing! -wink-

Website Under Renovation

2007-10-22T09:25:00.001-05:00

My official website, The Writings of Gwen Masters, is now under renovation. Several pages have changed, some haven't been touched, but it's all still easy to navigate -- I think!

The "News" page has disappeared, thanks to the fact that I update this blog so regularly. The "Bio" page is new, and the cover page is new as well, featuring the cover of One Breath at a Time.

Hop on over and tell me what you think!

All comments welcome, and I'm more than grateful for suggestions to improve the way it looks. I'm doing this entirely on my own this time, so if you hear the sound of a computer being thrown through a picture window and screaming obscenities of frustration, it's probably me. Pay it no mind.

Test Drive, Lease, or Buy?

2007-10-11T10:26:00.001-05:00

This month at For the Girls, I'm talking about men...and cars.

“You would never buy a car without a test drive, right? A man is the same way. Take him for a little spin. See how he feels. Take him around the block. Do wicked things to him, and with him, and see how he holds up. By the time you’re done, you know if you like him or not. Then you have the decision on whether to walk away from him, lease him, or buy him.” She grinned. “Men objectify women all the time. What’s wrong with deciding whether a guy is a hot rod or a lemon?”

What do you have? A sexy yet reliable Cadillac? Or perhaps a Corvette with a souped-up engine and a wild streak?

As for me, well...I'm all about the bad-ass Hummer type...

Men are like cars, and so are the dating choices: Test Drive? Lease? Buy? Or perhaps go with the ever-popular but commitment-shy Rental?

Visit my Learning Curve column at For the Girls to get in on the fun!

Walking on the Wild Side...

2007-10-10T07:14:00.001-05:00

I recently had the pleasure of reviewing Animal Attraction, the new anthology from Torquere Press, edited by Vincent Diamond. I was impressed:

Anthologies focused closely on one particular subject always run the danger of becoming too much about the theme, and not enough about the stories. Sometimes an anthology of this sort can put me to sleep, which is why I was so pleasantly surprised to read the latest from Torquere Press.

Visit Clean Sheets to read my full review of the collection.

In the Rain

2007-10-08T12:36:00.001-05:00

In the Rain
by Gwen Masters

“You’re the color of the sky
Reflected in each storefront window pane,
You’re the whispering and the sighing
Of my tires in the rain...”

-Jackson Browne, “Sky Blue and Black”

Larry’s radio murmured as he turned into the parking lot of that hotel, the one with the broken mirror in Room 108, the one with the non-smoking rooms that smelled like smoke and the king-size beds that were too big for two people in love. The windshield wipers made their comforting thump-whack and his watch kept up the steady ticks and the rain poured down, coloring everything a darker shade as he thought of Katherine.

She would be cooking dinner about now, standing in the kitchen with her blonde curls tied up in a bun, or maybe under a bandana, one of those cheap ones from the discount store. She would be doing half a dozen things at once, manning the brigade of pots and pans as she sidestepped around a two-year-old and hollered to the six-year-old that his room had better be clean before he came to dinner or there would be serious trouble. After stirring a pot and hearing the grandfather clock chime she would holler again, her voice carrying down the hallway and to the bedroom where a man would be taking off his shoes after a long day of work, smelling the good smells and feeling his stomach rumble.

Larry remembered what that was like.

The old Ford truck was one they had made love in when they were courting, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, before children and mortgages and things that went wrong. One night while they were lying down on that bench seat Katherine had gotten her long blonde hair caught in the door handle and she couldn’t move and somehow that excited them both, excited them so much that Larry went at her hard enough to rock the truck on its wide wheels, hard enough to fog the windows. The whole time the radio was playing one song after another, songs that meant something, songs that fifteen years later were like that truck: they don’t make ‘em like that anymore.

When it was over Larry had untangled her hair and she had cried because his hands were so tender and so careful, and because she loved him so much.

Lightning struck something nearby. The sound was loud enough to make Larry jump, close enough to turn the radio to static. Thunder roared. Larry watched the little blue car come through the curtain of mist. Behind the wheel was a pretty brunette, a bit on the heavy side with deep blue eyes and a radiant smile. She looked frightened as she drove under the light of the neon sign, and Larry guessed she was afraid of storms. He was learning more about her every time they met.

She ran to the shelter of the hotel room. Larry watched her as she opened the door to Room 108. He caught a glimpse of the broken mirror and thought about how Erin kept getting the same room as though they were testing their luck, as if the clerk at the front desk didn’t notice that they only stayed for a little while. Did she want to get caught?

Larry wondered if Katherine had wanted to get caught and if that is why she had left her own hotel key in the console of the car. He wondered if she had left it there deliberately and if she had ever thought about the way he would react, the suspicion and then the anger and then the shock of finding out that he was right after all.

She had been in Room 214. At least that time, she had been. Larry wondered if she had ever watched the new man in the mirror as he fucked her, perhaps in Room 108.

Another clap of thunder, and this time Erin looked out the window. She hadn’t seen his truck yet, parked way over there on the other side of the lot, but he climbed out anyway. He had forgotten his umbrella. By the time he dashed through the rain and the door closed behind him, he was soaked. Erin remedied that by removing his clothes.

She was wearing something silky. Her skin was scented with the fragrance that was uniquely her, the one that was seductive. She also wore a wide gold wedding band. Larry needed to make love to a married woman, to take what was taken from him, and Erin seemed to understand, seemed to revel in it sometimes by asking him if he thought Katherine had ever fucked her new man like this, or like that, or like this.

Larry came harder than ever when Erin did that, because it was like permission to go where his mind was going anyway, it was like having both of them in bed with him, it was living out the questions in his head, and it disgusted him yet made him want more at the same time.

He didn’t want to think about it.

Larry kissed Erin and lowered her to the bed and removed her clothes a little bit at a time, until he was between her widespread legs and she was playing with her nipples. He looked up and watched the harsh light from the bedside lamp as it glinted from her gold band.

He played his tongue over her lips, nice and slow, teasing each one. He delved into her, his tongue at first, then his fingers. By the time he touched her clit she was writhing under him and he knew how to do it, knew what would set her off, knew how to make it last. She told him over and over that he was better than her husband was and he clung to that like a drowning man clings to driftwood he happens to find in the ocean.

The new man would be sitting down in Larry’s chair now, looking at the food on the table and perhaps looking at the woman who served it. What was she wearing? Something that the new man would take off later in the bedroom that now belonged to them but used to belong to Katherine and Larry?

Larry bit gently on Erin’s clit. She wiggled in that certain way. Larry slid two fingers into her and then three and then four. Larry knew she would be sore and he was glad for that. He wanted her to be sore from him when she fucked her husband. That was important.

“Baby, I love you,” Erin gasped, but Larry didn’t hear her.

His mind was in a house across town, sitting down to dinner of mashed potatoes and peas and beef brisket with that good gravy only Katherine could make, and Larry felt a hunger inside, something deeper than anything food could fix.

Then Erin arched up into him and she cried out, a long wail that told him he had done what he was supposed to do. It was his turn now, because that was how things worked, wasn’t it? He did his duty and then she did hers or they did it together and that was supposed to be the correct way. It was all supposed to feel right.

Larry slid into Erin and she moaned, that deep down way that she always did, not like the gentle whimpers that came from Katherine. He moved deep into her and held her hair in his fists, the way she always liked it. He said all those things he had never said to Katherine, things like slut and whore and bitch and Erin broke out into goosebumps and moans with every new word. They turned together, her on top and him on bottom, and she rode him hard while she played with nipples on breasts that were bigger than Katherine’s, much bigger. Her body was rounded and soft and it was a turn-on of immense proportions (at least that’s what his dick said and by God, dicks don’t lie). It wasn’t more or less than the body Katherine had. It was just different.

When Erin leaned forward and rode him in that perfect way that drove his cock against the back wall of her cunt, the way that put pressure on his pelvis and his belly and everywhere else, Larry wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face to her throat. He came hard, deep inside her, where her husband might find it if he chose this night to fuck his wife.

When it was over, Larry said all the right things and did all the right things, but Erin knew he was far away. He could tell it by the look in her eyes when she saw the look in his.

“I said something wrong, didn’t I?” she asked, and Larry didn’t know what she meant, but he held her and kissed her and told her no, she hadn’t said anything wrong. She had said everything right.

She smiled and was content, and that was good. Content was good.

Two hours and then they were gone from the hotel room, the door closed and nothing amiss, the broken mirror in darkness, her little blue car disappearing in a haze of rain and fog. Larry drove slowly out of the parking lot and turned up the radio, which was no longer static but crystal clear, songs from years ago that still meant something. He turned toward the apartment across town, the one with the mismatched furniture and the empty fridge.

The rain poured down harder, hard enough that he had to squint to see through the windshield. Finally Larry had to pull over, had to sit there while every song on the radio told another tale from the story of his life and the rain pounded the hood of the old Ford. Unable to be here, he closed his eyes and he was there, sitting down to a dinner of beef brisket and mashed potatoes and peas, Katherine was smiling at him, and all was right with the world.

Originally published on Clean Sheets, copyright 2007.

CMA Predictions with Scott Roland: Part Three

2007-10-06T00:20:00.001-05:00

It's time for our third and final installment of CMA Predictions. The CMA Awards will take place at the Sommet Center in Nashville on November 7th, 2007.

If you missed Part One of our predictions, click here. And click here for Part Two.

Now, once again: On with the show!

Scott: The nominees for Single of the Year are: "Anyway" by Martina McBride, "Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood, "Lost in this Moment" by Big & Rich, "Ticks" by Brad Paisley, and "Wrapped" by George Strait.

Gwen: Again, for those like me who always get the Single of the Year and Song of the Year categories confused, Single of the Year is awarded to the artist and the producer. This category is more about radio play and overall production of the records, whereas Song of the Year is more the integrity of the songwriting.

Scott: Just like with the Song of the Year category, it's an even playing field. None of the nominees have a huge advantage over the other, so I will simply go with the song that I heard more on radio out of these five, which is "Before He Cheats."

Gwen: I think I might have heard "Ticks" just as often as I heard "Before He Cheats." But if we're also taking into account overall production of the song, I think Carrie Underwood is probably going to take the award here.

Scott: It's interesting that George Strait was nominated for "Wrapped" in this category instead of "Give It Away," which was his bigger record. In closing on this category, though, I have to say -- it's hard to vote against America's Sweetheart.

Gwen: Not for me! But, in the interest of keeping the peace, let's move on to Album of the Year. The nominees are: 5th Gear, by Brad Paisley, It Just Comes Natural by George Strait, Long Trip Alone by Dierks Bentley, Love, Pain and the whole crazy thing by Keith Urban, and These Days by Vince Gill.

Scott: Five very entertaining collections, at various ends of the country music spectrum. With Brad Paisley you have possibly the best country album released in the calendar year of 2007, a set from Dierks that furthered his cause as a leader of the young traditional country movement, and albums from Strait and Urban that saw business as usual. My personal pick in this category has to be the amazing range displayed by Vince Gill in his multi-disc set. I think the "hugeness" factor for CDs of this release might be a little too much for voters to deny. I will say, if it is a single album that gets the award, it will be Paisley. I think in the end, Vince will take this one, and perhaps that is as it should be.

Gwen: It would be a huge year for Vince if he walked away with this one in addition to his induction into the Country Music Hall of Fame. Amazingly enough, I'm in agreement with you on this. I'm not the biggest Vince Gill fan, but the range he shows on this album set is delightful.

Scott: That leads us to the Entertainer of the Year category, and as usual, it's filled with male voices. Gwen, you do the honors -- who are the nominees?

Gwen: Those nominees are: Kenny Chesney, Brad Paisley, Rascal Flatts, George Strait, and Keith Urban. What do you think?

Scott: You've got a field of superstars here. However, I think this is one of the easiest picks of the night. Only the possibility of a Rascal Flatts upset could spoil this award for one of the hardest-working men in the business: Kenny Chesney.

Gwen: Rascal Flatts very well might pull off an upset in this category. Kenny is the reigning King here, and and Brad Paisley is quickly coming up to Entertainer of the Year speed, but I don't think he's there this year.

Scott: George Strait and Keith Urban are always contenders in this category, but compared to the other three, it's been a business-as-usual year in the marketplace for them.

Gwen: The artist missing from this category is Tim McGraw. I was very impressed with the album he released, the tour with wife Faith Hill was a huge success, and his radio presence has been constant. If those are some of the biggest reasons for the Entertainer trophy, Tim certainly should have been nominated. I'm sorry he wasn't.

Scott: A lot of folks are, but among the ones that are on the list, I just don't see how Chesney doesn't get it, at least this year...unless you have a Rascal Flatts upset, which wouldn't be the biggest shock in the world.

Gwen: I'm almost expecting it. Their career has followed a long trajectory, and that has headed nowhere but up. I agree with you that Kenny has kept up his strong showing in all aspects of the music world, but this year, I think the Rascal Flatts boys will walk away with the coveted trophy.

Scott: Could very well happen. I don't necessarily think that would be a Dewey-defeats-Truman special. I'm still a huge believer in what Kenny Chesney has done, and continues to do, in the country music industry. But we will all see what happens on November 7th.

That's it for us on the CMA Nominations...tune in to watch the show, and see if we're right! The awards will air on ABC on November 7th at 8 EST/7 CST. For more information on the CMA Awards and the nominees, check out the CMA Website.

CMA Predictions with Scott Roland: Take Two

2007-10-05T04:36:00.001-05:00

We're back with Part Two of our CMA Predictions. If you missed Part One, click here. Now, on with the show!

Gwen: What's up next?

Scott: Let's go with Song of the Year first.

Gwen: The nominees are: "Anyway" by Martina McBride, "Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood, "Give It Away" by George Strait, "Lost in This Moment" by Big & Rich, and "Stupid Boy" by Keith Urban.

Scott: Personally, none of these songs have the lyrical depth of "If You're Reading This" by Tim McGraw. I find it a travesty that it's not nominated, regardless of eligibility for the year. But since this is what we have, we have to go with it: of these five, I don't know that there's a clear-cut song that's better than the rest.

Gwen: Just to make it clear to those who aren't familiar with the CMA nominations: The Song of the Year category is awarded to the Songwriter and the Primary Publisher. Single of the Year is awarded to the Artist and the Producer. Therefore, Song of the Year focuses more on the artistic value of the song, and Single of the Year focuses more on the commercial appeal and radio success.

Scott: And, if that was totally true, "If You're Reading This" would be in the top five, so once again, we go with what we have -- which isn't necessarily weak, as all five are huge hits, lyrically they are a bit unremarkable, especially when compared to recent years.

Gwen: I agree. "Anyway," "Before He Cheats" and "Lost in This Moment" aren't filled with any lyrical surprises. They are straightforward songs that sound good for radio but add up to little more than ear candy.

Scott: And don't forget "Stupid Boy," about a man lamenting lost love and what he did wrong -- wow, that's a novel concept!

Gwen: No, it's not a new concept, but what in country music is? It's not necessarily finding a new topic, it's finding a new way to say it. In that regard, "Stupid Boy" is fresh for radio. It's a different angle on an old situation, and that's always refreshing to someone who loves their music a bit off the beaten path.

Scott: Okay, sure. I'm not saying it's a bad song. I've just heard the song of regret before. My personal pick here -- and I stress, personal -- would be "Give It Away." As a fan of both George Strait and one of the writers, Whisperin' Bill, I think this was about as novel as it got this year.

Gwen: I agree...it's a new take on an old topic. Divorce. She's leaving. She's telling him to take everything and do whatever the hell he wants with it. A new take on an old, worn-out topic...kinda like "Stupid Boy," huh?

Scott: Once again, what makes this great is that we can agree to disagree. George Strait for President!

Gwen: We already made the President from Texas mistake once. You go with George Strait, and I'll go with "Stupid Boy." And now, before we get all hot and bothered for the wrong reason, let's move on...

Scott: "Moving On" like the Rascal Flatts song?

Gwen: You've got it! We're now talking about Vocal Group of the Year. The nominees are: Alison Krauss and Union Station featuring Jerry Douglas, Dixie Chicks, Emerson Drive, Little Big Town and of course, Rascal Flatts. What say you?

Scott: What a competitive category we have. One of the top bluegrass singers and her backing band, going to head-to-head with a group that doesn't consider themselves country.

Gwen: The mind boggles.

Scott: Emerson Drive has had a great year, but only one real hit, which leaves us with two possibilities. While vocally, Little Big Town might be the cream of the category, you can't deny the power of tickets, the power of sales, and the power of songs chosen. Rascal Flatts has all three in their corner.

Gwen: You can't deny the power of Joe Don Rooney on guitar, either. Just from a woman's point of view, you understand. But seriously, I agree with you on this one. In a perfect world, Little Big Town would walk away with it. They have the talent to justify it.

Scott: However, in a perfect world, the Dixie Chicks would have never lost this award.

Gwen: Scott, are we getting political again? Wait -- this is the CMAs. Never mind.

Scott: Let's go to Video of the Year. Who are the lucky nominees?

Gwen: That would be "Moments" by Emerson Drive, "Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood, "Anyway" by Martina McBride, "Online" by Brad Paisley, and "You Save Me" by Kenny Chesney.

Scott: A varied lineup this year, featuring the inspirational hits from Emerson Drive and Martina, a dramatic statement from Mr. Chesney, a side-splitting humor piece by Brad Paisley, and Carrie Underwood wearing leather and carrying a baseball bat.

Gwen: Well, given those descriptions, I could almost guess what you would choose...

Scott: Actually, I would choose "Wasted." Carrie on the beach is much more appealing! But in all seriousness, I think the most entertaining of these videos -- and the most talked-about -- was Paisley's ode to the search for love via cyberspace. Throw in the fact that the CMA always loves attention from Hollywood, and Jason Alexander directing this video fits that bill quite nicely. Plus, cameos from William Shatner and Maurrean McCormick made this one a delight from start to finish.

Gwen: You're the silly one, and I'm the serious one, which might account for our difference in opinion here. I'm all for "You Save Me" on this category, especially when the director's cut is taken into account. So much more backstory is told with an additional two minutes, and it adds a sweet flavor to the video that isn't there with the television-friendly version.

Scott: Then again, there is Carrie Underwood and the bat...

Gwen: And the leather, Scott. Don't forget the leather.

Scott: Well, she is America's Sweetheart...

Gwen: Moving on yet again --

Scott: Do we have to?

Gwen: Tony Romo probably wishes we would.

Scott: Ouch.

Gwen: The next category is Musical Event of the Year. Reba McEntire and Kelly Clarkson with "Because of You," "Find Out Who Your Friends Are" by Tracy Lawrence featuring Tim McGraw and Kenny Chesney, "Hey Good Lookin' (Live)" by Jimmy Buffet with George Strait and Alan Jackson, "Missing You" by Alison Krauss and John Waite, and finally, "The Reason Why" by Vince Gill with guest vocalist Alison Krauss.

Scott: I find it intriguing that the most high-profile collaboration of the year -- Tim McGraw and Faith Hill -- didn't get nominated.

Gwen: This isn't the only category where the duo are noticably absent. When we talk about numbers, they definitely have it, especially when considering the success of their tour over the last few years. I'm thinking Faith's ill-timed reaction to Carrie Underwood's Female Vocalist win last year caused them a lot of grief among the industry when voting time came around.

Scott: Probably didn't help, but when you have a live version of a song that was a hit from two years ago in "Hey Good Lookin' (Live)" being nominated, you just have to wonder about the validity of this category.

Gwen: My personal pick for this category is the Tracy Lawrence song, "Find Out Who Your Friends Are." I admit, I'm biased thanks to the ridiculous actions of BNA Records when it became apparent Tracy was a true competitor the top slot on the country chart. That move backfired on them and gave Tracy a well-deserved number one, and hopefully the big labels will be taught a lesson when Tracy takes home the CMA Award for the very song BNA tried to make country radio boycott.

Scott: If Nashville music industry were a democratic society, that might be true. Rocky Comfort Records probably doesn't have the clout in this category. You have to look at the one-two punch of one of the most talked-about collaborations of the year between Reba and Kelly.

Gwen: Unfortunately, you're probably right. Even so, my heart beats for the underdogs, so I'm going to be hoping Tracy's name is called from the stage that night.

Come back tomorrow for Part Three, the last of our CMA Predictions. If you missed Part One, check that out here.

CMA Predictions with Scott Roland: Part One

2007-10-04T07:26:00.001-05:00

On Wednesday, November 7th, it's once again Country Music's Biggest Night -- the 41st Annual CMA Awards. Here are our predictions, as promised -- no holds barred, no sugar-coating -- just the straight-up opinions of two people who have been involved in the country music industry for more than a decade.

In the interest of full disclosure: No, we aren't going to vote in this year's CMA Awards, so our comments don't breach any sort of CMA rules. And in the interest of even further disclosure, Scott Roland is the husband to yours truly...since I talk about him quite a bit, it's time he introduced himself, don't you think?

Reader, meet Scott (or at least, his official short bio):

Scott Roland is the alter ego of a man who does a little bit of everything. A Nashville-based journalist and popular radio personality, Scott also serves as a living encyclopedia of country music history. He loves long road trips, spends far too much money at the Ernest Tubb Record Shop, obsesses over the Dallas Cowboys and goes out of his way to spoil his children. Scott and his wife, novelist Gwen Masters, share a historic home on the outskirts of Nashville.

Now that we've all been introduced, let's get down to it!

Gwen: Since this is the beginning, let's talk about artists who are just beginning: The Horizon Award. Nominees are Rodney Atkins, Jason Aldean, Kellie Pickler, Taylor Swift, and Little Big Town.

Scott: Once again this year, this is a very challenging category. Rodney Atkins has had a lot of success but his record label doesn't really have the blocks of votes needed -- not enough industry pull. Jason Aldean has the same problem. Little Big Town is probably the most talented of the five nominees, but again, Equity Records is faced with the same problem as Aldean and Atkins -- plenty of talent but not enough industry backing. That leaves us with the two opening acts for Brad Paisley's tour this year. While Kellie Pickler has the Sony/BMG machine behind her, Taylor Swift has the undeniable numbers to assure that she wins this crown. My pick? It's Taylor.

Gwen: As usual, you're the realist and I'm the idealist. I look at artists and think about who should be at the top of the heap from an artistic standpoint, which never, ever jives with the industry view. So I'm hoping the CMA finds Taylor Swift a bit too young for this one, as her big hits have come in the last year, but she doesn't have a history beyond that. Jason Aldean, however, has turned in a flat-out amazing second album, and he's been around for a few years with a major presence. Broken Bow doesn't often make a misstep with their acts, so I'm thinking: Jason Aldean.

Scott: Well, that's what the definition of the Horizon Award is: Most career development in the past year. So taking a look at where each of the performers were a year ago, versus right now, I don't see any other choice but Taylor. But remember, that's by definition, not necessarily by opinion.

Gwen: The definition makes sense, but like I said, I have an idealistic view, and it doesn't all have to be about sales and high-powered publicists and sex appeal. Hopefully, CMA voters will go with their hearts instead of the industry pocketbooks.

Scott: Numbers are hard to disagree with, my dear.

Gwen: You're right on that. Moving on, let's visit the category I'm sure you're most interested in, Scott: Female Vocalist.

Scott: The nominees are Carrie Underwood, Alison Krauss, Martina McBride, Reba McEntire, and...who is the fifth nominee?

Gwen: Miranda Lambert. Interesting that you left her name out...

Scott: It's a fairly easy category to dissect this year. While I'm as big a fan of Reba as anybody, one duet with Kelly Clarkson does not an award-winner make. Alison Krauss simply doesn't have the radio support to figure in this from a female vocalist standpoint, and Miranda is simply too new.

Gwen: But Carrie Underwood was so new last year, you could practically say she was still a baby.

Scott: True, my dear...but Carrie has the numbers behind her, where Miranda does not. In this category, it really comes down to Martina and Carrie. While I personally think Martina could be the Female Vocalist every year, if you look at the statistics for this year, it's a fairly easy pick. Carrie Underwood takes it home.

Gwen: Now that we've talked about sexy females who can sing, let's go to one of my favorite categories: Male Vocalist. Nominees are Kenny Chesney, Brad Paisley, George Strait, Josh Turner and Keith Urban.

Scott: Wow. In this category we have a huge contrast -- the newness of Josh Turner, combined with the time-tested appeal of George Strait.

Gwen: Before we go any further, congratulations are in order to Josh. He was invited to join the Grand Ole Opry, and by the time the CMA airs, he will be a member. I think we'll see quite a bit of Josh on the nominee list in the future.

Scott: Most definitely. Josh is a very deserving artist for the Opry honor. I think it will probably be the only honor he gets this year, as he is simply too new against this competition. On the other hand, I don't see the grand veteran, George Strait, reclaiming his Male Vocalist throne. I think while Kenny Chesney and Keith Urban both have had stellar years, the popularity of Brad Paisley -- with both fans and industry -- nets him this award.

Gwen: I agree with your points on Josh Turner and George Strait -- Josh has some seasoning to go yet, and I just don't see George taking this one home. Brad Paisley is a fantastic artist, but he's not exactly the best vocalist out there, and that's what this category is about, right? So don't discount the two big names from the last few years -- Kenny and Keith. Keith has been the reigning champ in this category, but I think the overall tone of the industry for the last few years has been turning away from him, and that leaves Kenny as the winner this time -- but only by a very thin margin.

Scott: Do you really think Kenny is the better vocalist?

Gwen: If we were going by terms of vocal ability alone and not taking the whims of the industry into account, Josh Turner would win the talent contest. No question.

Scott: Well, you know what they say about opinions...

Gwen: That's true, and I love you anyway -- even though you're wrong.

Scott: Wait a minute. Are you PMS-ing again? Should I take cover?

Gwen: No, we should just move on to Vocal Duo of the Year . Look -- a list of actual contenders! Nominees include Big & Rich, Montgomery Gentry, Brooks & Dunn, Sugarland and The Wreckers.

Scott: Finally, this category has a little bit of competition. You've got the stage moxy of Sugarland. The quirkiness of Big & Rich is finally starting to take flight. Montgomery Gentry have matured one-hundred-fold as artists over the last year. The Wreckers have already gone to solo projects, so they aren't really contenders anymore. At the end of the day, you're still going up against one of the best voices in the business -- Ronnie Dunn. So Brooks & Dunn gets my pick.

Gwen: Personally, I'm a huge fan of both Big & Rich and Montgomery Gentry. I would love to see Eddie and Troy take the award home this year, and in a perfect world, they would be my pick. Brooks & Dunn have won it for years and years, and my affinity for underdogs makes me hope somebody else takes it -- though, given the climate of the industry and the fact that Brooks & Dunn are the darlings, it probably won't happen.

Scott: The fact that Kix Brooks is on the CMA Board probably doesn't hurt their chances, either.

Gwen: Are you saying it's really about who you know and not so much about what talent you have? Surely you jest!

Scott: I'm not saying anything of the sort, but it is a contest. Their harmonies are enough to win it, but every little edge on their competitors doesn't hurt.

That's it for Part One of our CMA Predictions. Check back tomorrow for Part Two!

Road Trip: The Natchez Trace Parkway

2007-10-01T10:02:00.001-05:00

This weekend, we took a ride along the Natchez Trace Parkway. It's a two-lane road that runs through Tennessee and Mississippi, following roughly the same route as the original trail.

It was an absolutely gorgeous day for it! The sun was bright and the air was filled with the first crisp, cool bite of autumn.

Those photos were taken from one of the many overlooks on the Tennessee side of the Natchez Trace. Of course, I loved looking at the many barns that dot the sides of the road, too...

The trip was flawless...with the slight exception of watching out for these big boys, because they had a habit of coming right up on the road:

We wound up at Loveless Cafe, where we spent way too much money in the gift shop, laughed a lot and met up with old friends. The trip was worth every last minute. Highly recommended!

Pre-order "One Breath at a Time"

2007-09-30T08:24:00.001-05:00

Good news! My next novel, One Breath at a Time, is now available for pre-order. It's still several months before the books hit the shelves, but you can reserve your copy right now.

Here are the Amazon links:

Get "One Breath at a Time" at Amazon US

Get the book at Amazon UK

And here's a bit of a tease...

I pulled the covers back up and threw pillows on the center of the bed. I looked out the wide picture window at the blue water below. Boats kicked up wakes and in those wakes, men and women rode on skis. Kids splashed near the shore. Gulls flew every which way, hoping for fish churned up to the surface by the boats.

Looking at the water made me think of Michael, and the pain took my breath away.

I sank down to the edge of the bed. The mountains of Tennessee seemed to be light years away, not just a few hours. If there were only miles between us, I’d be there in a day’s drive – but there was more than that. There was her.

I tried to shake the images in my head, the ones that haunted me every night since he had said he wanted to sleep with her instead of me. Her, the woman who came before me, and the woman he might be seeing again now, for all I knew. He had told me so many things during those long nights while we made love until the sun came up, and soon I learned that the fantasies he weaved with his words weren’t fantasies at all, but memories.

There was one image that never left my mind, no matter how much time had gone by. The images of her tied to that weight bench he loved so much, the sordid things he described to me long before I knew the fantasy he was weaving wasn’t a fantasy at all. It was a memory that he held so sacred, he let it taint everything about our relationship.

I could hear the voice of the man I loved so much, saying things I couldn’t stand to hear: ‘I fucked her so hard I moved the weight bench across the floor...’

Suddenly angry as hell, I kicked a pillow across the room. It bounced off the wall and lay innocently, alone on the carpet. Just as alone as I felt.

One of the dogs came up the stairs and sniffed at the pillow. I stared out the window and thought of other things, any other thing at all, until the images started to fade. I watched a man on a jet ski. I watched a boy on an inner tube. I watched the gulls pick up fish and then fight over them. I watched a Coast Guard cruiser make its way into the channel. By the time he was out of sight, my tears were gone.

I went down the stairs. The dogs already wanted to go back outside, so I opened the back door and let them go. As I turned to leave, I noticed the basement door was ajar.

I pulled the keys out of my pocket and looked them over, then looked back at the door. The basement housed what was lovingly called the Jungle Room. Filled with mounted animals, pictures of safaris and guns big enough to bring down elephants, the room was definitely a man’s domain, not the kind of place children or most women would go. The walls were lined with gun cabinets filled with every kind of weaponry imaginable, and I knew better than to ask if all of them came with proper permits. That door was kept double-locked, for good reasons of both safety and security.

And now the door was open.

That creepy feeling hit me again; it was the same mixture of fear and fright that had assaulted me at the front door. This time I couldn’t write that open door off as an accident. This time two happy dogs wouldn’t be able to sway me into thinking everything was okay.

I was not alone in the house.

And whoever was there with me was much closer to the guns.

Four Wheelers and Guitars

2007-09-28T09:19:00.001-05:00

On Wednesday night, the Renaissance Center in middle Tennessee was packed, and for a good cause. Recording artist Craig Morgan and a few musical guests came back to his native Dickson County to raise the roof for a fundraising benefit.

What were we celebrating? Putting a new awning over an elementary school...making much-needed repairs to another school in the area...contributing to Wounded Warriors, a group dedicated to the needs of our wounded military servicemen and their families...and contributing to Catch a Dream, an organization dedicated to providing terminally ill children with the chance to go hunting and fishing.

I love things like this. Every day we turn on the television or radio and hear the bad things. It's so much sweeter to celebrate the good, isn't it?

For some VIP donors, the day began with a four-wheeler ride. Let me say this: Keeping up with Craig on anything with an engine is next to impossible, so those who took the chance deserve a medal for bravery!

That night was the concert, and it was a gorgeous time. Craig invited Blue County (made up of Aaron Benward and Scott Reeves) and Tracy Lawrence to an in-the-round performance. What great music!

My favorite part of Craig's performance was the new song he wrote, "Looking Forward to Looking Back." It was filled with references to his own life, from being stationed at Fort Campbell to playing the Grand Old Hatchery (a Dickson County tradition!) to talking about his own kids and how quickly they are growing up. A great song for his next album, and I hope it will be a single.

The guys from Blue County are very funny, and were obviously enjoying every minute of being up on stage. The best part? Hearing them talk about their kids, and watching their impromptu jam with Mellencamp's "Little Pink Houses."

Tracy Lawrence is always fantastic -- I think he's got one of the strongest voices in country music. The best part of his performance? Hearing him talk about his reverence for those who blazed the trail in the country music industry, and his emotional rendition of "Paint Me a Birmingham."

One other note...If you live in Tennessee and you haven't made the time to visit the Renaissance Center, you're missing something worthwhile. It's a very intimate, classy venue about thirty minutes outside of Nashville.

Next year's event is going to be bigger, so won't you come join in? Keep an eye on Craig's website for updated information when the time comes.

I'm Blushing!

2007-09-24T11:03:00.001-05:00

Am I a Top, a Bottom, or a Switch? I answered that question for the Blushing Ladies Journal. Click here to read what I had to say about my own journey through the world of dominance and submission.

Recipe: Steaks with Peanut Sauce

2007-09-20T06:41:00.001-05:00

I love to cook. One of my favorite tricks is to pick something out of the pantry and build a meal around it. It's a challenge to use kitchen staples in a way that I haven't thought of before.

Yesterday, I was in the mood for peanut butter. So I got out my grandmother's recipe books, found a sauce, and added a few little things to make it my own. We loved it so much, we were too full to even look at the Coca-Cola Cake I made for dessert!

Steaks with Peanut Sauce

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped and minced
1 small green bell pepper, cored, seeded and diced
1/2 fresh jalapeno pepper, minced (with or without seeds)
1 cup chicken stock (a good quality broth will work, too)
1/2 cup chunky peanut butter
2 plum tomatoes, diced
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice
Salt
Whatever steaks you desire (porterhouse is always a good bet)
Freshly ground black pepper

Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onion, green pepper and jalapeno. (If you prefer a hotter sauce, use the seeds of the jalapeno pepper along with the skin -- if you prefer mild, don't use seeds.) Saute until tender. Add the broth, then the peanut butter. Reduce heat and simmer for about five minutes. Add the tomatoes and the lime juice, then season to taste with salt. (If the sauce is too thick for your liking, add a bit more broth and lime juice until it thins.) Keep the sauce warm.

In the meantime, prepare the grill, or put your steaks on the broiling pan. Cook them to your liking. (I used a very simple marinade of crushed red pepper, cracked black peppercorns and Coca-Cola. Delicious!)

Season the steaks, put them on the plates and douse them with the sauce. I served it with mashed potatoes, a tossed salad and homemade Sour-Cream-and-Cheddar bread. Good stuff!

Dating and the Single Mother

2007-09-12T14:57:00.001-05:00

This month on For the Girls, my Learning Curve column is all about dating and the single mother:

"You’re going to deal with a hell of a lot more than nerves on that big date night. First, what to do with the little ones? If you happen to have a family member nearby who loves to spend time with your kids, you’re in luck. If not, you have to secure a babysitter, preferably one who looks clean-cut, can offer a gazillion references and actually likes to play Candyland for three hours at a time. You will pay any amount of money for this peace of mind. If the babysitter knows this, your bank account is in trouble..."

Read more of this and all of my monthly columns at For the Girls. (Adults only, subscription required, worth every penny!)

One Breath at a Time

2007-09-10T11:10:00.001-05:00

It's here!

The cover is here, anyway. The book will be in stores in early 2008, but I had to share the gorgeous cover now. I'm so excited!

One Breath at a Time is my first release from Black Lace Books.

Here's the cover blurb:

Kelley is a woman with a broken heart. She doesn’t need another complication in her life, and certainly not another man. But when she stumbles across Tom, the things she thought she didn’t want become exactly what she needs. As they fall for each other and embark on a compelling journey through dominance and submission, both lovers strive to shake away their dark pasts. But is blinding passion enough to keep them from being ripped apart?

Much more to come...I can't wait to get out there and promote this book. It's been years since I did a proper book tour -- I'm ready!

Sex on the Ceiling!

2007-09-05T06:51:00.001-05:00

"Oh my...are you really doing what I think you're doing?"

Today on Lust Bites, we're talking about sexy injuries -- everything from those delicious bruises to those funny stories of the time things didn't go quite as planned...

Read about sex gone crazy at Lust Bites, and then share your story in the comments section. Adults only, please!

Best. Shake. EVER.

2007-09-01T22:53:00.001-05:00

It's the little things that make me happy. Like taking another impromptu road trip, finding a little roadside ice cream shop and discovering the best Orange Crush Milkshake ever made.

The shop? The Big Dipper in Killen, Alabama. (For those who like further direction, that's on Highway 43 in the northern part of the state, about ten miles north of Florence.) It's a quaint little place where the owner works her own counter and makes her orders by hand. No mixes there...it's the real deal. And it's priced nice.

And it's better than good. It's almost better than sex.

If you happen to be in northern Alabama, you must go. (Let me know you're coming, so I have an excuse to head down there again and get another one.)

The Sexiest Proposal Contest Winner!

2007-08-31T22:00:00.001-05:00

We had an even bigger response to the Sexiest Proposal Writing Contest than we expected! The number of entries topped one hundred and far surpassed those for the Open Road Writing Contest.

The winner will receive a prize package filled with autographed books, promotional items, great music CDs for inspiration, a t-shirt or two, and an Amazon gift certicate, among other delightful things!

All entries were blinded and judged by us -- yours truly and my naughty husband. This was the one that made our hearts pound, made our bodies tingle, and made us smile with remembrances of our own proposal.

Congratulations, Tsera!

E Duos Unum
by Tsera Fey

A hundred candles burned throughout the bedroom, but the warm orange light could not penetrate the black velvet blindfold covering Heather's eyes. She could smell the mingled scents – vanilla, jasmine, rose, and a dozen others dancing in their heat to create one comforting, mystical scent. The heat of the small flames was unable
to fend off the sharp, cold air blowing in through the open window. It caused goose bumps to rise on her arms, chest, and flat belly, and the nipples atop her full breasts to swell and tighten.

Heather didn't remember how long she'd been tied to the bed, nor did she care. Logan had led her into the bedroom, ordered her to strip, and tied her efficiently to the bed's four posters with velvet rope. The blindfold had come next without a word or a touch.

She wriggled impatiently. Her arousal grew, but any attempt to mitigate it only made it fiercer. With her eyes closed and the only other sound being the whispered sigh of the wind, Heather could hear her racing heart thunder against her breast, echoing and rippling in the growing moisture between her spread legs.

"We're going to play a game." Logan's strong voice drove the cold back momentarily as a wave of warm desire washed through her. The steel of authority surprised her; his voice was usually light and ready to laugh. It made the knot of desire tighten deep in her belly. "I have a number of items here, and you have to guess what each one is by touch. Some will be easy, and some will be difficult."

She could feel Logan's piercing blue eyes on her. She could sense him next to the bed. The vitality of his lean, toned body was a beacon in her blindness. The dark, musky scent of his arousal lay stealthily beneath the candles'. She struggled against the bonds again, but this time in an attempt to diffuse some of the energy building in her.

She almost didn't notice the first object, so light was the touch. It seemed to coalesce from the wind, a whisper emerging from the silence to glide around the curve of her left breast and down the center of her stomach.

"A feather," she said quickly, excitement building.

"Very good," he said. She could hear the satisfaction in his voice and it thrilled her.

They had experimented with light bondage in the past, but nothing more than tying the other's hands to the headboard. She'd been turned on those few times by the feeling of helplessness and being under Logan's control. The tone of his voice reminded her of those nights. She craved those sensation now, tied spread-eagle to the bed in which they'd made love so many times.

While her mind wandered, a dagger of intense cold seemed to explode just above her slick cleft. She bucked and writhed against the overwhelming sensation, but Logan's hand was steady. The cold slipped tendrils down over her sensitive nether lips, tearing a scream from her throat.

"Ice!"

"Good," he said calmly as he helped her settle back down, though the ice remained. Heather's breath was ragged, coming in short gasps as the ice continued to melt on her hot flesh.

She must not have noticed Logan climb onto the bed. She could feel him looming above her and without warning, the warm, thick flesh of his cock was pressed against the freezing flames of her cleft. Before she could call out the name of this new object, it glided into her. The air rushed out of her lungs in a moan of pleasure and hunger. Logan filled her steadily until he could reach no deeper. The ice was gone, then it was in her mouth, quenching her parched lips.

Unmoving, Logan's member flexed deep inside her. Heather writhed on that glorious manhood, wanting, needing to feel it move within her. She thought she might go mad if she didn't feel friction between her pussy and Logan's cock, didn't feel the familiar sensation of his pulsing member so very deep in her core.

Heather felt the last object on her left nipple. It was small and hard. She gained a measure of control over herself as she concentrated on this new puzzle. It didn't feel cold or hot. It didn't cause pain, nor did it induce pleasure. It was a nondescript sensation spiraling slowly outward from her turgid nipple. She hadn't the slightest clue what it could be. The object continued its way down her left arm, danced a spiral on the inside of her elbow, and drifted lazily down her forearm. Heather was still at a loss.

"Aren't you going to guess?" She could hear the amusement in Logan's voice.

"I... I don't know," she babbled as Logan opened the hand that had been gripping the velvet rope tightly since they'd begun. He began to move within her. The trail continued onto her open hand, drawing a spiral on her palm.

"Please," she whimpered, trying to grind her hips down onto his probing member.

The object disappeared. A heartbeat later, something was being put on the ring finger of her left hand.

"A ring?" Confusion and elation swirled in her stomach. She barely noticed that Logan had begun thrusting repeatedly into her hot, slippery cleft. He was stretching, reaching above her. The velvet rope came loose from her left hand. A moment later the blindfold was gone.

Heather looked at the object on her ring finger and tears welled in her eyes. Sitting atop a gold band, three diamonds caught the orange light of the candles and refracted them into a million rainbows.

"Logan..." she breathed. Her arms and legs were free now. She looked up into the pools of his smiling blue eyes and thought her heart might burst. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, drawing him into her embrace, into her body.

"Yes!" she cried in ecstasy as she and Logan became one.

Though having been writing erotica for several years, Tsera has just recently gone public. A busy schedule doesn't provide nearly enough free time for this aspiring eroticist's over-active imagination, however. Writing erotica provides an escape from the stresses of every day life, a way to unwind, and a way to safely explore those hidden corners of the soul.

Visit Tsera's Blog: Under the Crimson Moon

Nature Shots

2007-08-31T08:15:00.001-05:00

We took a short and sweet honeymoon right after our wedding a few weeks ago...the BIG honeymoon is coming up in a few months!

Here are some shots, as promised. We drove up through Land Between the Lakes. The wildlife was really out and about...we spotted so many more than this, but wild animals usually don't hold still for a good picture.

We just love LBL. Isn't it lovely?

My, My...How Things Change!

2007-08-30T09:39:00.001-05:00

Today, the nominations for the 41st Annual CMA Awards were announced.

In years past, this was a true event for me. It was something I anticipated for weeks. Some years, I held CMA Nominations parties. There were a few years when I was there in the studio, hearing the nominations live. There was one year when I sat at home, on the edge of my seat, unable to go because I was pregnant with my daughter and on bedrest. (That didn't stop me from jumping up and down with excitement, mind you.)

This year? I probably won't even vote.

I'm not sure my husband voted. We talked about it briefly, but to be honest, I don't think he sent in an initial ballot. I do know that I hadn't given the CMA Awards much thought until he reminded me of the fact that they were happening. He told me on Monday morning. Today, I almost forgot, and tuned in just as the nominations were starting in New York.

As I watched, I thought back to how much it used to mean, and how much things had changed. It's not that I don't care -- I certainly do! -- and it's not that the country music industry is any less important to me now. In fact, we are both probably more entrenched in the industry than we have ever been.

So what's my problem?

My priorities have changed. My focus has shifted. As I watched the nominations this year from my quiet office with piles of work awaiting my attention, I remembered the Priority Questions.

Have you ever noticed that once you do something over and over and over, it becomes part of your routine, an automatic thing in your day-to-day life? You start to live by it and then you forget you are doing it. It becomes natural as breathing.

The Priority Questions were shared with me many years ago. They were so simple, and worked so well, that I began to apply them to everything. As I did, my life began to change. I got a handle on situations I thought were out of control. My life slowed down, became easier, less stressful. It wasn't that my life had changed -- the way I handled my life was what had changed.

The Priority Questions:

Will this matter...
In a day?
In a week?
In a month?
In a year?
In five years?

I took any situation that was causing me stress -- everything from paying the mortgage to dealing with discipline for my kids to handling the nosy and annoying teller at the bank. I took a deep breath and asked myself those questions, in the order listed.

The teller at the bank pisses me off? Really? Fine. Will it matter in a day? No?

Just like that, I let it go. I smiled and put up with her bullshit, knowing that when I turned around and walked out, it wouldn't be a problem. I could seethe about it and whine and bitch and yell filthy names at her in the car on my way home, showing my passive-agressiveness to great advantage in my rearview mirror, but it wouldn't make one bit of difference. And it didn't matter anyway.

Bingo -- she was no longer a problem. I was happier and could spend my energy on things that did matter.

Seems simple? It is. That's the point. You have no idea how much energy you throw away on things that don't matter until you actually call yourself on it. Thus, the priority questions. They put into perspective what you never really think about.

Apply it to anything. Those vicious rumors your friend oh-so-casually mentioned she heard at lunch the other day. The fact that your car is on the fritz. The chronic lateness of your business associate for your lunch dates.

Will it matter in a day? Maybe. Will it matter in a week? Probably not.

Once you have a firm handle on how much it really matters, then you can live your life appropriately. For me it was always my children who came at the top of the list...of course. Will meeting that dealine matter in five years? It just might. Will taking ten minutes out of my rush to that deadline to color a page in a book with my son make a difference in five years? Oh, yes. Definitely.

The editor won't remember that I stayed up all night to finish the deadline. In fact, she might never know. But will my son remember the moment I walked away from the computer, focused on him, and colored that picture of Bugs Bunny? He might, and he might not -- but what if he does? Which matters more?

Today I watched the CMA nominations on television. I watched while writing this blog, in fact. There were moments when I was thrilled by hearing certain names. There was a point where I picked up the phone and called a friend to say congratulations.

Then the nominations were over, and I turned back to finish this blog. Soon I'm going to get back to work, juggling finishing a manuscript, a short story and a column between doing dishes, finishing that load of laundry, and making lunch in time for my husband to have something hot to eat when he walks in the door.

It's not that those nominations don't matter anymore. It's just that they fall in a different place in my life now. My priorities have shifted.

Apply the Priority Questions to your own life. Write down the situations and rank them on paper if you have to, so you can see what is going on in your head. Do it over and over, it becomes like clockwork, and you'll be a much happier person. Trust me.

Now that I'm done being philosophical, I have to go. I have to finish writing this story about a woman who chains a man to a wall, pulls out a riding crop and gives him what he doesn't even know he really wants.

-wicked grin-

Another Great Review!

2007-08-17T21:59:00.001-05:00

I love good reviews! This one is for "When the Lights Go Down," my first story from Forbidden Publications. Crystal of Sensual Reads and Reviews says "If you are looking for a red hot and stimulating read, then this is the one for you."

Thank you, Crystal!

Read the rest of the review here.

And if you're interested in finding out for yourself just how hot the story is, you can check it out here.

More Feeding the Fetishes...

2007-08-16T05:51:00.001-05:00

As promised, Tracy Lawrence!

Here are pictures from the second #1 party for "Find Out Who Your Friends Are," held at BMI in Nashville. (Hey, the man knows how to party...)

Older Men Get Me Going

2007-08-10T10:15:00.001-05:00

I have a thing for older men. It's no secret -- my friends delight in sending me pictures of men with just enough gray in their hair and sexy laugh lines around their mouths. They know it makes my day...well, spicier.

Ooh, look...a picture of an older man. Indiana Jones, at that! How in the world did that get in there?

Older men are sexy as hell for sooooo many reasons, but the one that ranks at the top of my list would have to be sexual. These fellas know the ropes, ladies. They've been around the block once or twice, and they know how to satisfy the woman who is fortunate enough to get between their sheets.

Oh, my. Another one!

In my Learning Curve column at For the Girls this month, I'm talking about older men. Older men like this one, perhaps...

Wait a minute. Stop right there. We need more of that...

Ummmm...

Where was I?

Ah, yes. The older man. The appeal of older men has to start somewhere, and for me, it was with that high school music teacher...he was forty-four and I was barely legal...

I watched the motion of his hands and the way he swayed on the bench with the music. I studied the lines around his mouth, the stubble on his jaw, the gray in his hair. For some reason, the gray kept my attention, and I was staring at his head when he finally stopped playing that piano, opened his blue eyes, and looked at me.

I don’t remember the conversation we had. I know it was entirely above-board and kosher, until the moment he rose from the bench. The dress slacks fit him just right, and the suit jacket had long since been discarded over the back of a chair, the long sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows, the tie loosened enough to show me the sprinkling of salt-and-pepper hair on his chest.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” I said, and I remember well the way he smiled...

Oh, my. Do I ever.

I've got a lot more to say about the older man at For the Girls. Won't you go over there and enjoy a bit of eloquent gushing over fine specimens like this...

Ah, hell. Excuse me, I must go -- I'll head back to my writing while you head over to For the Girls, okay? Those men have me in the mood to write some smut.

Interview with Amanda Brooks

2007-08-09T07:00:00.001-05:00

Amanda Brooks has led an interesting life. She started out as a stripper during college, working major clubs from Dallas to Las Vegas, but eventually her curiosity about escorting led to placing an ad on an online site. A career as an escort was born! After a few years of enjoying herself and pleasing her clients, Amanda retired from escorting and set about writing her first book: The Internet Escort's Handbook.

Read on for more on this fabulous woman:

Tell us about your first time as an escort. Were you nervous, scared, hesitant? How did it compare to the first time you stepped in front of a crowd on a stripper pole? Which was easier?

My first time onstage was horrible, nerve-wracking and excruciating. Not because I was wearing a thong (my very first song was fully-clothed, the second song was topless) but because I didn’t know how to dance and all my practice in my heels at home on carpet was very different from trying to dance in them on a wooden stage. And then I had to try and collect tips onstage, followed by attempts to sell dances once offstage. Although I came to love the stage dancing (and became very good at it), my table-dance-selling skills were always poor. I hated that part of it.

My first official client as an escort made me nervous. I’d screened him with my mentor’s help but I had no idea what to expect. He was a nice man; enthusiastic and full of empty promises (like taking me on a boating trip). But other than his need to assure me he’d come back, he was a great guy. No issues at all. Having stripped for 4 years, the conversation was ridiculously easy, especially since I didn’t have to yell to be heard.

The sexual part was a little awkward, mostly because I wasn’t having much sex in my personal life. I wasn’t worried about making him a repeat client; I just wanted to get through the appointment in one mental piece. Instead, I got a high in knowing I’d made my first client happy and was well-paid for work that came naturally to me. My stripping career ended that hour (I’d kept my locker at the club just in case this escort thing didn’t work out).

Can you tell me about one of your best experiences as an escort?

One of my best experiences...other than meeting my current boyfriend? (It was a wonderful dinner appointment, absolutely perfect.) There are many great experiences I had, in all sorts of ways. There were terrific sexual experiences that I still treasure and wonderful personal connections with clients. I got to enjoy some social benefits, like eating in top restaurants and spending time in the best hotels. I met some amazing men. And a favorite client gave me a fantasy send-off the night I retired, ending with a kiss at midnight. Can’t get better than that!

Were you surprised by any of your escort experiences?

I don’t know that any of my experiences surprised me because I wanted and expected to have good experiences. I was surprised that my boundaries created real taboos for the first time in my life. That was a fun surprise.

And on the flip-side, is there a horror story you would be willing to share?

Other than getting shorted on payment, I can’t say I have any real horror stories. One story that could’ve ended badly was a visit from a young New York man (I normally didn’t see men under 30 for a reason) who accidentally set one of my hand towels on fire in my incall. He smelled it on his way out the door, which was good because I didn’t smell it at all. He had been a bit of a jerk in person and in bed, so this was just a capper. I was happy to see him go – after he put out the fire.

I like how you are so clear about the business. You take the time to make sure all the pitfalls are out in the open, and you counsel those who might be interested to be sure they can handle this profession. Were there any misconceptions you fell for when you were first starting out? What do you feel is the biggest mistake most escorts make?

I was lucky enough to have a mentor who honestly answered all my pesky questions. One misconception I had was in judging my popularity. In strip clubs I was an average dancer, appearance-wise, and most nights were 90-99% rejection. I was not expecting the warm and eager welcome I got as an escort. Not that I’m complaining.

I also discovered that – generally speaking -- the more a man has to pay for your company, the more he respects you. This is not information passed around in the “real” world and I think it’s high time women realized that if they valued themselves, they would get more of what they want from relationships with men, whether they want a paid or unpaid relationship.

A popular misconception among other escorts seems to be the belief only (male) discussion-board posters/reviewers know how escorts should run their business. I’m working very hard, especially in book #2, to get escorts to break free of this stranglehold. I compare it to me telling Bill Gates how to run Microsoft just because I constantly use Windows programs. An escort needs to run her business as her own individual situation dictates, not what hobbyists (who may never even see her) think she needs to do to make money.

One of the things that scared me away from escorting was the near-certainty that I would get personally involved with clients and then have to deal with the emotional fallout. Is this something that happens often? How do you avoid it?

It depends on how you define “personally involved.” An escort should never get involved in clients’ lives. Once the paid time is over, it’s over until the next appointment.

A common misconception is that the only way to do this work is to turn off all emotion. An emotionally-dead escort won’t be popular and will cause emotional problems in herself. It’s quite natural to feel connections with and emotions for clients – it’s a human relationship, after all.

I found myself falling in love with a number of my clients – during our time together. Once our time was over, I went about my life and they went about theirs. Obviously I was not seriously considering starting a relationship with them, but it was fun to allow myself to get swept away for short periods of time. I always regained my perspective.

There were clients who would ask me out. I would be nice while letting them know it wasn’t going to happen. I used the fallback excuse that dating clients is not a good idea (which it isn’t). That was acceptable to them, although I occasionally lost a client after I turned him down. I feel that being straightforward with my clients and not playing emotional games with them prevented the problem with romantic stalkers that some escorts have.

Escorts who have extended appointments with their clients understand that emotions will run high and that’s part of their appeal. They’ve learned how to deflect potential trouble and keep their client relationships in its proper place in their life. Fantasy relationships don’t have to be a negative in anyone’s life, quite the opposite – they can be incredibly rejuvenating. It does take a certain amount of self-awareness and emotional stability, though.

It seems escorting is more about intimacy than it is about sex. You’ve talked a great deal about what the clients enjoy – but what do you find most escorts name as their most enjoyable part of the job?

Depends on the escort. I’ve discovered since retirement how much I miss the constant social interaction with new people. I think a lot of escorts enjoy the same thing. Others love the ego boost they get from being adored. Some openly enjoy the opportunity to travel and live an adventurous life. Some look forward to favorite clients with whom they’ve built a small relationship. Some escorts have had clients for years (long before the Internet boom). One cannot be intimate with another person for a long time without developing genuine feelings and a real relationship. Some probably enjoy the sexual variety the most.

And, for those escorts who depend on escort work for a full-time income, the money is very nice. Of course it is. A healthy income allows for a lot of freedom, independence and control of one’s life.

As an erotica writer, I’m very fortunate to have people around me who are supportive of what I do. That wasn’t always the case. Did you find there were people in your life who were more accepting of your work as a stripper than your work as an escort, or vice versa? How did your profession affect your personal relationships?

I lost one stripper friend who did not feel I was making a healthy decision to start escort work. But then, she thrived as a stripper. I don’t know that she would’ve thrived as an escort. I did not thrive as a stripper but I did as an escort.

Of everyone that I’ve told, I’ve certainly fielded a lot more questions about my escort work than my stripping. I can’t say that one has been accepted more readily than the other. In my experience, those who accept me as a person accept my sex work history equally well.

Escort work affected me very positively. I was much less stressed and I had a better income, all of which made me happier. Even my mother thought I seemed happier as an escort. And I only spent time with people who accepted all of me, which meant the quality of my friends went up.

Boyfriend issues are more severe with escort work than with stripping. There’s no good way of navigating those waters. It has to be done on an individual basis and I still haven’t figured out all the right answers. Having firm boundaries helps, as does the feeling of independence.

Obviously, your new gig as a writer is working! Can you see yourself ever going back into escort work?

If my life situation changed drastically, escort work would be an option, though not my only one. I have nothing against it but I’d like to try and see what I can do with my books first. Going back would be too much like giving up! And I’m stubborn. Not that I feel there’s any shame in escort work, I just don’t want to fall back on it feeling defeated or that I failed in my new career.

What’s next for you?

After I complete this series (book #2’s manuscript is mostly done, then I have #3 and #4), I will want to take a break. I promised an updated compilation volume but right now I don’t even want to think about it. There are other books I’ve thought of and would like to research, but again, the energy is not there right now. Depending on the success of my series, I could either keep on pumping out books, or go on extended tour, or start in a whole new direction and just let these sell as backlist items. I don’t know. I’m too much in the middle of it all to clearly see the end.

To read more about Amanda, visit her Website.

To read more about her book, Click Here.

Review: The Internet Escort's Handbook

2007-08-08T09:01:00.001-05:00

When in my early twenties, I seriously considered becoming an escort. It seemed like my ideal job -- lots of time with all sorts of different men, lots of sex, and getting paid well to make men happy! What's not to love?

Now that I've read The Internet Escort's Handbook by the smart, strong and undeniably sexy Amanda Brooks, I'm envious of those lucky women who can make a career out of escorting. I'm also glad I didn't try it -- I would have let my emotions get in the way of good business sense, and that's no way to make a living!

Amanda covers everything in this book. She starts by telling a bit of her story, and then launches into the pros and cons of escorting. I like how thorough she is here -- she asks very pointed questions about the reader's intentions and expectations, and by the time you are finished with the second section of the book, you certainly know whether or not you can handle the demands of being an escort. If you don't know, well...you should probably look for another job.

She doesn't sugar-coat the emotional difficulties that can come about if you venture into escorting for all the wrong reasons. She addresses the myths about escorting, talks about the basics of the business, and details the physical risks, including how to protect yourself from STDs.

She discusses the emotional ramifications of escorting, not only for the client, but for the escort as well. One very clear lesson in the book is this: "You are not selling your body; you are selling blocks of your time." It was interesting to learn that while a lot of clients do expect sex, just as many of them simply want some attention. Being a good listener is extremely important to being a good escort. It takes a hell of a lot more than a good body and blow-your-mind sexual techniques to keep those clients coming back for more.

The best part about this book is that it's only the beginning. This is Book One: The Foundation. This book covers the mental, emotional and physical considerations. Other books are set to follow, where Amanda will eventually cover the entire spectrum of information about escorting.

If you're thinking about escorting, don't make any decisions until you read this thorough, helpful and informative book.

To learn more: The Internet Escort's Handbook.

And to learn even more, come back tomorrow -- Amanda drops in for an interview!

"The Right Thing"

2007-08-07T09:22:00.001-05:00

My latest story, "The Right Thing," is now at Ruthie's Club! Here's a tease:

I walked into the side door, the one marked Hospital Personnel Only. Robert followed me, even though I tried my best to slam the door in his face. I marched into the first unoccupied room I could find, and Robert was right behind me, making little noises that sounded suspiciously like whimpering, as though he wasn’t sure what to say but had to make some noise to show that he was trying to come up with something.

I rounded on him as soon as the door was closed. The fluorescent glow from the hallway fell through the small window in the door, leaving just enough light to see the mixture of emotions on Robert’s face. I got right up against him, toe-to-toe, and made him look me in the eye.

“What are you following me for, Robert? Huh? You want to get a promise out of me that I won’t run down to the cafeteria and announce your little indiscretions, don’t you?”

Even in the dim light, the ruddy flush on Robert’s face was unmistakable.

“Look, I know you’re mad. I know that’s my fault.”

“Mad ain’t the half of it, weasel.”

“Weasel?”

“Hell, I might not run down to the cafeteria. I might announce it on the intercom.”

Robert shook his head, his eyes wide as saucers. “You will not!”

“I don’t answer to you,” I said, punctuating each word with my anger. “Understand? You will have to wonder if I’m going to tell her. You will wonder for the rest of your life.”

“You can’t do that,” he said stupidly, looking at me like I had grown another head.

“You can’t stop me,” I growled.

Robert moved toward me. He meant to grab my arm, to shake some sense into me, to hold me steady in one place so he could tell me the way things were. I saw it coming and beat him to the punch, so to speak -- I reached out and slapped him. The sting of it traveled through my palm and all the way down my arm, a lightning bolt of pain. Robert’s head rocked to the side, and he looked back at me in amazement.

In the sudden silence following the slap, a tinny, disinterested voice boomed from above us. It called my name, and asked me to dial two-five-one.

Then he reached for me. Despite all my tough talk, I let out a little squeal that was half fear, half rage. Did Robert actually grow a set of balls? And if he did, God forbid and holy shit, what was I going to do?

He grabbed the bottom of my scrub shirt and yanked it up. He grabbed my scrub pants and yanked them down. He shoved me to the side of the bed and pushed me down on it. It all happened in a matter of seconds. It took a few more seconds for the whole scenario to register.

Did he really think he could fuck me into submission?

I helped Robert yank his belt loose. His penis was harder than I had ever seen it. He came down on top of me and the bed made a squeak of protest. One of us hit the adjustment buttons, and the bed moved up a few inches with a smooth, mechanical hum. We both froze, united in sudden fear of who might have heard, and who might come through the door.

A nurse in whispering shoes laughed with someone in the hallway, oblivious to what was happening in the room just a couple of steps away. After a few moments, the voices became distant.

Robert moved his hips. I arched my back. He pushed into me -- not slid into me, because I wasn’t wet enough for that, I was pissed off, after all -- and that anger rose to the surface. I was good enough to fuck now that he was angry, but as soon as he shot his load it would be the same old saw about doing the right thing.

“You don’t seem so upstanding now, do you, Robert?”

He glared at me and pinched one of my nipples. Hard.

I grabbed at his shirt. I yanked at it. At first I thought it wouldn’t work, but then it did. The fabric made an ugly ripping sound and buttons scattered to the floor.

“Explain that to your wife,” I hissed.

***
I'm a tease, so that's all you get!

If you want more, visit Ruthie's Club. Adults only and subscription required...but it's well worth the money!

I'm a Romantic

2007-08-05T08:19:00.000-05:00

I took Sage Vivant's Erotic Personality Quiz and discovered I'm a Romantic!

What is your Erotic Personality? Find out now..

* * *

Here's more:

The Romantic can think of nothing more erotic than being saved from peril. They are not necessarily helpless people, but the notion of being saved makes them feel desirable and sexy. The Romantic needs to feel sought-after and practically worshipped before sex can be on the agenda. They imagine partners who not only make passionate love to them soon after saving them, but they imagine those partners will know how to please them without any instruction whatsoever. Their lover’s sexual finesse inspires their own, heightening their capacity for sexual pleasure. The Romantic is especially fond of people who can read their minds and deliver the sexual excitement that they secretly desire.

Hey...I always did have a thing for Indiana Jones!

Sex, Religion and...

2007-08-04T15:21:00.001-05:00

Politics
By Gwen Masters

(Flasher -- 299 words)

The cuffs were tight around her wrists and ankles. The strap was firm against her belly. She hung suspended, held by carefully placed ropes that didn’t chafe. She could have drifted in a cocoon of pleasure, so comfortable they were.

The whip stung the back of her thighs with no pauses, no mercy.

She began to count. By the time she reached forty, she had forgotten which number she was on and had to start counting again.

“This bitch won’t give,” said the trainer. He was one of the men who had sneered at her from the guardhouse when she was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the Impurity Compound. Four years after the American President had turned into Little Napoleon, he had ordered all sexually adventurous women to be imprisoned until they were cleansed of their impure thoughts.

The trainer had a sadistic streak -- he was the former Attorney General, after all -- and he had meted out every punishment that was sanctioned and a few that were not. Two months, and she hadn’t broken.

She began counting again.

Finally the trainer threw down the whip. He walked away. He would leave her there, like he had so many times before.

The other trainer stepped up behind her. He sank his cock into her with one long thrust. She started counting the strokes. Sex like this was not allowed any longer -- anyone who dared do the deed for anything other than procreation in an approved marital setting was breaking the law.

When he pressed his fingers to her clit, she came. She moaned quietly. He came inside her and then he was gone, nothing but a ghost who left wetness dripping out of her and onto the dirt floor below.

Those who want to fuck will always find a way.

I Like to Feed Your Fetishes.

2007-08-04T14:50:00.001-05:00

By request for Anita, a long-time reader who also happens to be an Emerson Drive fan with a healthy Brad Mates fetish...

Hey, I'm all about feeding the fetishes!

A few shots from the "Moments" #1 Party and Press Conference, held last Tuesday at ASCAP in Nashville.

We're enjoying the hell out of our new digital camera, so watch for shots from the Tracy Lawerence party next week.

The Sexiest Proposal Contest

2007-07-30T16:08:00.001-05:00

The Open Road contest was a success, and T. S. Addison was the winner! He got a package full of goodies. Now it's your chance, because...

It's time for another contest!

In a few weeks, I'm going to marry the man of my dreams. In celebration, we're giving you a chance to win a prize package full of smut, music, this-and-that surprise goodies, maybe even a t-shirt or two. I'll even throw in an Amazon gift certificate so you can buy more smut!

On to the contest details:

A woman always remembers her wedding -- but what she remembers just as well is her proposal. Did he get down on one knee? Did he ask her in the afterglow of delicious sex? Was it sweet and intimate, or was it entirely public? Or perhaps convention was turned on its head and she did the asking?

For this contest, I'm looking for tales of the hottest, sexiest proposals. Tell me your original story in 1000 words or less. Stories should be both erotic and romantic -- make me hot and make me smile.

The deadline is August 14, 2007, midnight, US Central time. Send entries to gwennydear AT gwenmasters DOT net. One entry per person, please.

All entries will be blinded, then judged by yours truly and the man of the house. The winner will be announced on September 1, 2007.

You've got two weeks, so get busy!

Love on the Dark Side

2007-07-27T13:46:00.001-05:00

Today I opened my mailbox to find a copy of Love on the Dark Side, a novel of paranormal romance and erotica from Black Lace.

Isn't that a yummy cover?

I'm happy to be included in such a great collection! My short story "The Shadow of Matthew" is here, along with some hot stories by many of the other sexy Lust Bites women.

For your reading pleasure, here's an excerpt from "The Shadow of Matthew."

A bit of background: Alison hasn't been back to her home in many long weeks, afraid of the memories she would find there after losing her husband in a tragic auto accident. Now she has returned, and she finds more than she bargained for.

She walked through the unforgiving sunlight and looked down into the sink. The cologne bottle was in a half-dozen pieces. She picked up little shards of green glass with careful fingers and dropped them into the wastebasket. Then she turned on the water and washed the majority of the cologne down the drain. The scent was still in the air.

She turned the water off and looked at the sink. There were drops on the side, high on the edges where the water didn’t normally reach. She dipped her finger into one and sniffed. Yes, it was cologne. She put it on her wrists, on her throat, behind her ears. The scent of Matthew surrounded her.

She started to cry again, but it was a quiet and gentle cry, not the sobbing hysterics she thought she needed. She turned on the water again, used the closest washcloth to sweep out the sink, and tidied everything up again.

Alison.

This time she turned with a small scream, sure there was someone in the hallway looking at her, certain there was someone in the house. She stood stock-still and waited. There was nothing again, nothing at all. She stood there for what seemed like an eternity, afraid to move, lest she miss some little sound that would give away the fact that there was an intruder in the house. She was aware of the grandfather clock, the ticking of it from down the staircase and down the hallway and around the corner, and she wondered if she could hear that, why couldn’t she hear someone breathing?

The logic of it relaxed her, and she stepped toward the door again. She looked out into the hallway. The sun had reached that point Matthew always loved the most, when it found the half-moon windows in the top of the house and spilled light through them in shafts that were so strong, they looked almost solid. The light danced across the floor and dust motes danced in the beams, reminding her of how long it had been since she had been in the house. Avoidance had seemed the right thing to do, but looking at those shafts now she wondered if she had waited too long, if Matthew’s memory had somehow evaporated during those long weeks she slept in her old bedroom at her mother’s home, afraid of the memories this house would hold.

I missed you.

Alison stared at the sunlight and waited. The fine little hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she broke out into goosebumps, the same way she always did when Matthew kissed that sweet spot right underneath her ear. She listened and heard nothing and decided she really was going crazy, bonkers, bound for the funny farm, one brick short of a load, not playing with a full deck –

Stop it, BeeBop.

Alison was suddenly dizzy. She groped for the wall and leaned against it. The voice was shocking but the words were so astounding that she couldn’t utter a single sound in response. No one called her BeeBop; no one even knew that name existed. Not her best friend or her mother or her sister or anyone else.

No one but her husband.

To get more, click here: Love on the Dark Side: A Collection of Paranormal Erotica from Black Lace

Worth Her Weight in Diamonds!

2007-07-26T14:40:00.001-05:00

This is our littlest baby...Minnie Pearl.

She had a bit of an accident a few days ago, and by the time the vet is done with her, it will have cost over five-hundred dollars to get her little foot all stitched and doctored up.

I keep thinking...if her foot is worth five hundred, then how much is my whole little kitty cat worth?

No wonder cats act like royalty!

Handcuffs are Very Good Things

2007-07-26T10:19:00.001-05:00

The delightfully sexy Alison Tyler is editing the Alphabet Series of naughtiness for Cleis Press, and I'm happy to be in the "H" volume. H Is for Hardcore is now available, and Alison is treating you today with an excerpt from my story, "To Protect and to Serve."

And if you check it out right now, you might win an autographed copy!

Go on, now. Go see Alison. Give her a comment, and give it to her dirty. You know she likes it that way.