Month: February 2012 (page 1 of 2)

The Big Ohhh!

I entered an orgasm description contest at Erotic Meet. Voting begins today. There are a lot of great entries. Whew. I’m melting. I’m not going to tell you which one is mine, but if you’ve been paying attention, you’ll figure it out. The winner gets a box of sex toys. I could use those for research. Yeah…research. Check it out and vote for your favorite!

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Trashy’s rules ;)

I’ve been thinking a lot about rules lately. I don’t like them in general, but some are necessary for our protection. Some people think they can force their rules on everyone else whether they’re needed or not. So I wrote a list of rules (or maybe I’ll call them guidelines) that apply only to me. Please keep in mind this is all in fun and I’m not serious about any of them (well, maybe a couple). In other words: it’s a JOKE, people! Total fluff post.

1. I love action movies, but watching a chick flick is okay as long as there’s a hot guy in it. (Johnny Depp, George Clooney, etc.)

2. Work hard, play hard, love hard, fuck harder. (Stole that one from a Tumblr pic.)

3. Everybody needs to read a trashy book. (This I firmly believe.)

4. If you know the rule well enough, you can break it. (I do this in my writing.)

5. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. (Thanks, mom.)

6. If you can’t say anything nice, come sit by me. (Thank you, Steel Magnolias. Three hot guys in that movie: Dylan McDermott, Tom Skerritt, Sam Shepard.)

7. Don’t touch the women, but they can grab whatever they want to. (This one isn’t mine. It’s Rule #7 from The House Rules. 😉 )

8. If it feels good and you’re not hurting anyone, you don’t need to feel guilty about it. (My husband taught me that.)

9. Make shit up as you go. 😉 (I just did.)

10. Lighten up! (Thank you, dad.)

Ta-da! I showed you mine. Now you show me yours.

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How a trashy short story collection comes together

No pun intended. It starts with a naughty idea: I can’t remember what sparked it, but I hit on the idea of finishing a series of erotic (naughty even for me!) short stories I started while I was finishing up Secret Storm.  I opened up my notes, looked them over, and then I re-read the stories I wrote. I was pretty excited by the time I got done. (And I mean that in a very good way.) 

I start writing and the idea develops: While I was reading my notes and listening to my muse, I realized Alex was very similar to the hero of the novel I’m planning.  I looked at my notes for the novel. Could I make them the same person? I planned to give Alex his own story. Maybe I already had the idea. The more I thought about it, the more I liked it, and now the novel I plan to write after I finish the stories is going to be about Alex. Ta-da!

The characters develop and I ask myself: how should it end? Will thinks he has everything under control. Alex doesn’t give a damn about anyone else’s rules, but when it comes to screwing Talia, he won’t get emotionally involved. How the hell did Talia get dragged into something that could ruin her career? This will not end well.

The first draft is complete, and I finally have a title! It feels good. The plot feels good, the characters feel good, the ending feels good. I’m happy with it. But the biggest accomplishment is finally choosing a title: Her Twisted Pleasures.

During editing and re-writing, questions arise: I wonder if it’s going to alienate my current readers. It doesn’t fit the romance genre or any of its sub-categories. It’s true erotica. My characters lie and deceive each other and themselves. The sex scenes are often violent and sometimes dangerous. Everybody gets screwed (and not in a good way).

I send it to my beta readers and wait. That’s where I am now. Sitting on my hands, trying to resist the urge to nitpick and hoping I can take the criticism when it comes back. And since I’m going to submit it to a publisher, I gotta write a synopsis. Oh what fresh hell is this?

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Don’t tell me what I can’t do

There are things in this world I just don’t like. I don’t like onions, but I’m not going to tell my husband he can’t put them on his pizza. I don’t like horror movies, but I’m not going to tell my friends they can’t watch them. I don’t like all sub-genres of erotica, but I’m not going to tell anyone they can’t express their artistic ideas.

But that’s exactly what PayPal is doing.

Three major booksellers: Smashwords, All Romance eBooks, and Bookstrand, are revising their erotica guidelines to exclude rape, bestiality, necrophilia, and incest because PayPal is forcing them to. These are deplorable act and while this may sound like a good thing, but the definitions PayPal is using are vague enough to exclude things like BDSM, some paranormal and erotic horror genres, and ‘daddy’ stories. My books haven’t been banned yet, but they have elements of BDSM that so far escape the new guidelines.

I don’t write in those genres, but I know authors who do, and while I may not like the ideas they choose to express, I will defend their right to do so. If this censorship trend continues, it may affect me. It may affect you.

Who made PayPal God? What gives a commercial entity the right to police artistic expression? Why are the booksellers giving in?

Money. That’s all there is to it. PayPal is the vendor of choice for many online retailers. Without their services, businesses would lose customers. I don’t like losing customers/readers. But I hate being told what I can’t buy, can’t think, or can’t write by a faceless corporate giant.

It’s censorship—pure and simple—banning books. And I don’t like it. I will fight it.

Additional note: I am not–in any way–defending rape, incest, bestiality, or necrophilia. This post is not a knee-jerk reaction. I’ve been aware of PayPal’s actions all week, but since it didn’t affect me directly, I didn’t address it. But when I saw my friends’ books being banned, I decided to make my feelings known. I cannot stand by and watch while my friends’ livelihoods are threatened.

Have your books or books you want to read been banned?

For more on this controversy, see:

Two Legs Bad: an open letter to Mark Coker

Femmedia – weekly blog roundup – lots of links here

PayPal: The Morality Dictator

Smashwords Bans Erotica – Sort of

PayPal becomes Big Brother of Erotica

And here’s a petition you can sign:

Stop Censorship

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Trashy’s Gems #3 – Change doesn’t have to be scary

Last week I started a Tumblr blog – Trashy’s Pleasures: things that turn me on. I’m having fun with it, searching pics and following other tumblrs. It’s easy enough to post and reblog pics, but I couldn’t figure out how to add a caption to them. When I wrote something in the caption box, it didn’t post on my blog. I needed to use that feature especially when posting pics with nudity (i.e. an ice cube melting on a lovely nipple). So I emailed Tumblr support and they told me they were aware of the problem and they were working on it, but it was limited to Internet Explorer. They recommended I download Firefox or Chrome.

I’ve been using IE since the early days of the internet, and I’ve never even seen another browser. I knew they existed, but I never felt the need to change. I didn’t want to wait for Tumblr to fix the problem, and I didn’t want to post nude pics without an NSFW warning. But I have over 1000 bookmarked pages and I didn’t want to lose them. I did a little research and decided to download Chrome but keep IE just in case.

The new browser worked great. It transferred all my bookmarks as soon as I logged in, and it fixed other problems I was having: slow downloads, Facebook glitches, and even my Yahoo mail worked better. Why didn’t I do this sooner? Because I was afraid of change. But one small change made all the difference, and now my Tumblr blog is better and bolder. Change is good.

I am keeping this in mind as I prepare my erotic short story collection, Her Twisted Pleasures, for beta reading. I have one beta reader—a professional critic. Holy shit! If that isn’t scary, I don’t know what is. I know she’ll have suggestions, changes that need to be made, but I’m doing this for the good of my story. It’s damn scary to send the manuscript I love to someone else, but by the time she’s finished with me, I’ll have a better and bolder book. Either that or I’ll give up writing completely. 😉

But maybe it won’t be so scary. Maybe she’ll say, “I love it! Don’t change a thing.” Hey, a trashy girl can dream.

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Short Story – Barely Breathing

“Hi, baby. Sorry I’m late.”

Amber Montgomery crawled out from under the mountain of baby clothes she was folding and scowled at her husband. Late? Dinner was so cold Dr. Frankenstein couldn’t bring it back to life. The baby decided her food looked better on mommy than on her plate, and when Amber finally got Kaylee to bed, she spent half an hour cleaning up that disaster—by herself.

“I missed you.” Paul leaned over to kiss her cheek.

But Amber recoiled. “Where the hell have you been?”

“My last appointment wouldn’t stop talking, and by the time I got out of his office, traffic was a bitch. Did you hear about that accident on the interstate?”

“I didn’t have time to watch the news. I didn’t have time to eat dinner. I didn’t get a damn thing done today because your daughter decided she didn’t need a nap.”

Paul cringed. “Tough day, huh?” He retreated to the kitchen, wincing when he found the stone-cold remains of dinner.

Amber followed him. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Battery died.” He held up his useless phone, showing her the black screen.

She snatched it from his hand and plugged it in. “I need to be able to call you. What if there was an emergency?”

“Did something happen?” His head popped up over the refrigerator door, his eyes worried.

“No.” Amber crossed her arms. “But if it did, you wouldn’t know.” She looked around the kitchen. Paul’s briefcase was lying on the counter, his coat tossed over a dining room chair. Everything was as it should be. Nothing extra…nothing special. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Um…Tuesday?” He looked at the calendar. “Yeah, Tuesday…all day.”

His adorable little boy smile wasn’t going to get him off the hook so easy. “It’s Valentine’s Day!”

“So that’s why you’re pissed. Shit, baby. I forgot.”

Amber forgot too until she checked the expiration date on an ancient container of sour cream, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “When you were late coming home, I hoped you were getting me last-minute flowers or chocolate or at least a sappy card. But no, you walked in empty-handed.” She stomped to the dining room and grabbed the unused dishes, throwing clean silverware back in the drawer.

“I don’t see any flowers or cards for me.”

“You want flowers?”

“That’s not the point. You forgot too.”

She seized a plate and pondered throwing it at his head. “Yeah well, I’m too busy–”

“You’re busy?”

Amber gasped, her mouth falling open but words failed her. Paul’s eyes turned panicked, and he backed up a step when she grabbed another plate. “Don’t you even…do you have any idea…? I work—all day! I cook, I clean, I try to raise a baby and run a business—which, by the way—I missed a deadline for because Kaylee decided she didn’t need a nap today. I barely had time to apologize to my client.”

Paul held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I know you do a lot. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Damn right, you weren’t thinking.”

“But I’m busy too. They let a sales person go last week so I’m covering his territory and mine. I don’t know when—or if—they’re gonna hire someone new, and I can barely breathe as it is.”

Amber put the plate away and leaned against the cabinets. They were both overworked and overwhelmed, and she didn’t see a way to escape. Life—even the things she used to enjoy— smothered her like a musty old bathrobe. “Kaylee missed you.”

“I know. I missed her too. I’m gonna go kiss her good night.” He dashed up the stairs before she could warn him not to wake the baby up.

The dining room was clean when he got back. The laundry was folded and put away. The kitchen was dark, and Amber was sitting in the living room on the couch, flipping through channels with the remote. “Nothing good on.”

“She’s down for the count.” Paul stood in the hallway, bracing himself against the wall as if he was afraid to enter the room. “She’ll sleep all night.”

“Good.” She yawned and stretched, knowing he was watching. She used to love it when he looked at her like a starving man. His dark eyes glittered in the evening light, and he ran his long fingers through his black coffee hair. A tingle shot through her when she remembered how his hands felt on her skin, how his lean, hard body felt on top of hers. The fluttering desire disappeared too soon, replaced by an urgent need for sleep.

Paul sat down beside her, a charming smile on his sweet, dangerous lips. He took the remote from her hand and turned the TV off. “It’s not too late to do something.”

“Do what?”

“For Valentine’s Day. We can get dinner–”

“We’re never going to find a babysitter on such short notice.”

“We’ll order pizza. Open a bottle of wine, light a couple candles.”

She smiled and cuddled close to him. “That sounds nice.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “When was the last time we had sex?”

Continue reading

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I have a Pinterest account, but after reading this I deleted all my pins. I wasn’t using it much anyway, and I mostly posted other indie authors books. I won’t contribute to copyright violators.

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Wrestling with my muse: Are all his ideas good ones?

My damn muse woke me up at 4:00 a.m. Actually it was 3:54. WTF? He told me the beginning of Her Twisted Pleasures was kinda dull. It didn’t arouse his dirty mind like it should, so he gave me an idea how to fix it: rearrange the stories.

The first story, A Good Slut, started like this: A summer vacation in the desert southwest sounded like a good idea when Will and I planned it during a cold Chicago blizzard, but when we crossed the border into Texas, the heat slammed into me like a brick wall. Good details, but it sounds like ‘how I spent my summer vacation.’ Who hasn’t heard that essay before?

I could move another story to first place, Breaking Rules. Will tells it later in the series, and he starts it with some provocative words, but they spoil the big reveal. Hmm….

It wouldn’t take much, just a simple cut and paste to make Twisted erupt like an overexcited honeymoon husband. But I wonder if my muse’s idea is the best one. I don’t want to waste my best stuff on the first shot. 😉 Maybe all I need to do is write a stronger opening for A Good Slut: I never live with a guy because I like fucking him in a different bed every night.

That’s better, but I’m still not sure who’s right. I’ll know after it goes through beta reading. I still want one more reader. The first draft will be polished and ready for reading on 2/24. It’s just over 53,000 words, so if you’re interested in critiquing it, please let me know.

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Valentine’s treat from Trashy – new couples erotica!

My new couples’ erotica short story, Barely Breathing, is now available exclusively from!

Here’s a taste of the Valentine’s goodness:

Dammit, how could he forget Valentine’s Day? He wanted to make it a good one this year. Take Amber out for dinner, buy her a little present, spoil her rotten and then get a hotel room where they could have privacy—and peace and quiet—so they could tear up the sheets like they used to before Kaylee was born. Paul loved his daughter. He wouldn’t trade her for the world, but damn if the little squirt didn’t bring his sex life to a grinding halt.

Amber sighed and stretched, her thighs rubbing against his crotch. That did it. Solid wood in half a second. New record. He leaned down and touched his lips against her ear. She gave him an encouraging moan so he kissed her cheek. She brushed his hand away and buried her face in his chest, dammit.

Paul groaned and smacked his head back against the couch, his hot little wife still curled in his lap, and the boner in his pants demanding attention. He needed to do something about it, but he’d be damned if he’d do it by himself—not on Valentine’s Day. “Hey baby.” His hand slid under her hair and he lifted her chin.

“Mmf.” Amber grunted and blinked at him.

He rolled her back against the couch, giving his wandering fingers easy access to her body. She braced unsteady hands on his chest. He grabbed one and pressed it against the bulge behind his zipper.

“What are you doing?” Amber woke up.

“I got a Valentine’s package for you.”

She laughed, squeezing his hardon. “Feels like a nice one.”

“Wanna unwrap it?” He nibbled her neck, dragging his tongue down her throat.

“I’m so tired.”

Yep. He knew that was coming, but this time he was ready for it. “I am too, but it’s Valentine’s Day, we’re alone, Kaylee’s sound asleep….”

“I should be too.” Amber pushed him away and sat up. “I have work to do tomorrow, and if she won’t nap again, I’m in trouble.” She stood and headed for the stairs, but Paul grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

“Amber, please.” He wasn’t above begging. “I need you.”

Read the complete story at Bring Back Desire and check out their website for bedtime stories, book reviews, intimate products and more!

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Am I risking my readers?

Last weekend I got another great review for The Devil Made Me Do It. My erotic short story collection is becoming quite popular, and many of the reviews say the same thing. It’s romantic, playful, couples-oriented, and it makes the reader feel good (in more ways than one. 😉 )

So as I’m revising and editing my new erotic short story collection, Her Twisted Pleasures, I wonder if it’s going to alienate my current readers. It’s as far from the romantic, fun, positive feel of Devil as I can get. It doesn’t fit the romance genre or any of its sub-categories. It’s true erotica. My characters lie and deceive each other and themselves. The sex scenes are often violent and sometimes dangerous. Everybody gets screwed (and not in a good way).

I wrote Devil at a time in my life when I was struggling with my sexual nature and trying to get in touch with my inner slut. Writing Devil helped me resolve my guilt conflicts and build confidence. Writing Twisted allowed me to explore the darker side of my imagination and probe my baser sexual desires.

But it won’t appeal to everyone. Let me put it this way: my mother-in-law is my biggest fan. She’s been reading trashy romance for 40 years, but I’m not going to tell her about Twisted. She likes traditional, happily-ever-after romance novels, so I don’t think she’ll appreciate the provocative storyline and non-traditional relationships. There’s no way in hell I’d ever let my mother read it.

I can and still do write feel good romance. (Shameless plug: check out my new erotic short story, Barely Breathing, on!) I have plans for three real romance novels with my Twisted characters, but I had to torture them to make them ready for their true love. (See I am a romantic—a twisted romantic. 😉 )

My question is this: will publishing Twisted lose the readers who love Devil or will it expose my writing to a whole new audience? I’m willing to take that risk. I hope you’ll gamble with me.

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