Got plans for next week?

If you're not doing anything in particular on Tuesday night, July 17, why not come spend it with me?

On July 17 I will be returning to the Erotic Literary Salon in beautiful Philadelphia. I can't wait! It will be a night of hot erotic readings, discussions about sexy things and an introduction to amazingly talented writers. The room will come alive with sensual energy, and you will be so glad you decided to turn your Tuesday night into something special.

There will also be a special treat from beloved Frances, a regular reader at the Salon. This lovely lady -- 95 years young! -- will read the hilarious Go the Fok to Sleep by Adam Mansbach. I had the great pleasure of seeing her read this last summer, and it was one of the most enjoyable readings I have ever seen! 

Here are the details:


Erotic Literary Salon
July 17, 2012 at 8:00 PM
Address: TIME (The Bohemian Absinthe Lounge)
1315 Sansom Street, Center City, Philadelphia 

Click here for the press release

In addition to reading a short story, I will be giving away print copies of my latest releases: A Week in the Snow and The Green Room. Show up early to get a good seat!

A Steamy Excerpt from The Green Room

One day soon, I will explain the story behind The Green Room. Oh, my...that will be a long blog post. There is quite a story to tell!

But for now, I am dishing up a sexy excerpt over at Hitting the Hot Spot.

Read the excerpt from The Green Room here.

An Excerpt from The Green Room

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.

After All These Years

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