Named & Shamed blog tour - day 3

Today I've being interviewed over at BDSM Book Reviews - some searching questions and some heavy answers. Find out what genuinely squiks me out - and it's not something I've ever confessed before to anyone.

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And I've got to tell you about this wonderfully intemperate review for Named and Shamed by Miss Lily. It starts off

"Well Holy Fuck.....!"

and just gets better:

"my God, is it pure filth….. and I LOVED IT!"

"To begin, this adventure is sexy, the sex – slutty, orgasmic. By a third of the way through this book becomes like no other. The Good Folk more deviant, more treacherous. The shenanigans more improbably, yet through her brilliant writing Janine conveys a believability and casts her thrall over the reader, enveloping them, drawing them in to her perverse world where anything is possible, and enjoyable."

:-)))) Thank you Lily!

Full review here

Janine goes to the House of Lords

It started with an invitation:

A summer drinks reception at the House of Lords - and I was invited.
*jaw drops*

No, it wasn't because the Peers of the Realm are huge fans of kinky sex ... perish the thought! I'm sure they're all as pure as the driven snow...
I actually got this because I'd been in a focus group for the Authors' Licensing and Collecting Society (which is an AWESOME organisation, and if you publish in the UK/Europe at all you really should join because it exists to GIVE YOU ROYALTIES). It's their 35th Birthday this year, and they were going to Parliament to lobby the government not to slacken the rules regarding copyright fees and suchlike.

I'm not a politcal lobbyist. I find it hard to speak to strangers. But the opportunity to see inside the House of Lords was too good to pass over - after all, I'm sure I could use the setting in a story one day! 

So on a grey Wednesday I went to the Mother of Parliaments...

And I queued up at the Black Rod's Garden Gate (is it just me or does that sound a bit rude?) along with a whole crowd of other writers of every kind - fiction and non-fiction, academic, TV scripts, children's writers, technical - to go through security and inside the building.
We were shown into a long terrace-room right on the edge of the Thames. There was a string quartet. There was wine, champagne, strawberries and cream, little cakes and ranks of titchy triangular sandwiches. Writers love free food!

Sadly, photography is technically forbidden inside the House, but I did get someone to sneak me this shot on the terrace:

I met a lot of people! I had to 'fess up to what I did, of course - the first thing anyone asks is "What do you write then?" It was fun! Though it has to be said, it's the only public gathering ever where I've actually worried that my natural accent wasn't posh enough to blend in.

I talked with:

• A colleague of David Nutt, the ex-chairman of the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs (he was the one who caused a scandal when he had a flaming row with the Government, stating that their policies were politcally driven and not based on scientific evidence)
• The woman who had, for a small flat-fee, ghost-written the novels for a certain extremely famous celebrity, and then had to watch her barely-literate client get nominated for the Smarties Award for children's books. (She seemed sanguine. I'd have been gutted.)
• Two Members of Parliament: one Labour, one Liberal Democrat. The Lib Dem gentleman wants to write a philosophy book on the different varieties of Atheism. I told him he should do it.
• A woman who writes rugby manuals.
• A poet who studies Western Esotericism.
• A political advisor who told me the last thing she'd ever do was go into a political career, now she'd seen the reality.

I had to tell people I didn't write "50 Shades of Grey" a few times . . .  They all seemed to think I was making pots of money in erotica.
I wish... 

But it was just a total blast. Not me at all. I'm living someone else's life again!

And here I am with my souvenir tea-towel  :-D

Named and Shamed blog tour - day 2

Today I'm a guest over at Slave Nano's blog, talking about twisting fairy tales. I chose this rather lovely fantasy picture as appropriate because Slave Nano loves his goddess-like Dommes :-) There's quite a lot of this sort of thing going on in Named and Shamed too ...

Eyecandy Monday

Expect a lot of fairytale pics for the next few weeks - The official blog-tour for Named and Shamed begins today, with an interview over at Adriana Kraft's.

She actually floored me with the question "What's your own sexiest feature?" Um . . . How should I know?
So I asked those who would . . .

Bad influence

I read this issue, I swear.

King Charles

I went to see Mumford and Sons play at Gateshead the other week (they were GREAT - and note-perfect even live!), but my real surprise was how much I enjoyed one of the support acts - this chap*: King Charles.
 

Ignore the silly hair (okay, so that's not possible) - he does catchy contemporary folk-pop with some clever lyrics that don't always scan.

He had me at "Beware romantic gestures: they're investments in your vanity."
I have a severe case of Writer's Envy now.
I bought his CD.

But this one's just silly:

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*He most definitely is a Chap - he  makes James Blunt look working class. (And he, ahem, went to my old university.)

"A book that I had to force myself to read" - reviews

A couple of reviews for my books:

First, an absolutely stonking review for Named and Shamed from Midnight Boudoir:

"I seriously couldn't put this book down. It is a dark erotic depraved fairytale like nothing you have ever read or can conceive . . . I really am raving about this book." 

Read the whole review here.

Thank you Midnight Boudoir!   (And, by the way, she enjoyed Named and Shamed so much she rushed out to buy Red Grow the Roses too!)

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Secondly, a highly entertaining (for me) review of Heart of Flame over at Long and Short Erotic Reviews. Iris was clearly cursing her luck when she started my Arabian Nights novel - she couldn't stand it! But she kept reading and ...


"What started out as a book that I had to force myself to read became the story I couldn’t put down!"

Read the whole review here.

Thanks you (especially for perservering) Iris!


:-D

Eyecandy Monday - boobies!

Heh - I'm on a breast thing at the moment for some reason. Particularly pics of them caught at that undressing moment just before they're about to pop out into full glorious view. It's the anticipation. The drama.

The ...

Uh . . . what was I saying?

 . . .  before - OMG - this ...

:-D

Florence

I've been on a day-trip to Florence! Not from the UK, obviously, but I happened to be in the vicinity and allowed a day off from eating parmesan cheese and frigging myself blind writing.

So, naturally, I thought I'd start with a picture of the cock of David, because that's the most postcarded thing in the city. Michelangelo would be proud, I'm sure :-)

It's a beautiful, beautiful city, crammed with ancient palaces and topped with red-tiled roofs just made for Assassin's Creed. The Duomo (cathedral) is also pretty photogenic. That's coloured marble in the facade, not paint, btw.

The inside is surprising bare, except for the interior of the dome, which is this VAST fresco of the Last Judgement and just has to be seen for its jaw-dropping violence and sadism.

Vivisection anyone?

Yes, that's people being rammed up the arse and cunt with burning stakes, for the sin of lust. (I have my personalised stake booked in advance, naturally.)

You can climb right up on top of the exterior of the dome for a fab view of the city. This is the point at which I realised why Brits fall in love with Italy.



Right next to the Duomo is the Baptistry, which boasts a stunning gilded mosaic all over the roof dome. Shiny!



"That's it - get out! Next stop the burning stake up the ass!"

We did go to the Uffizi Gallery and saw a whole load of Botticelli paintings, but you're not allowed to take photos in there . . . so here's the interior of the toilet door in the cafe where we had lunch:

Same idea as the Birth of Venus, really, just slightly different execution.

Okay, that's enough crude porn - let's have some more high culture!

Here's my Super Tourist Tip for you if you go to Florence. If you find yourself in a queue for anything (the Ufizzi or the Duomo for example), just look for the nice ladies with the clipboards and the uniforms. They will sell you a ticket for slightly less than double the usual entry fee, which will allow you to waltz straight past the queue. This will save you hours, literally. Just live with the guilt. I'm telling you, it's worth it.

:-)

Excerpt: No Running, No Petting

My poolside m/m/f story No Running, No Petting is out TWICE OVER from Xcite Books - as the lead story in Foreign Affairs: erotic relations in exotic locations (out TODAY - at least in theory - in paperback, also already available on Kindle), and as one of 5 stories taken from that anthology and published in a smaller collection as an e-book: No Running, No Petting.

Here's an excerpt:

Lena and Vittor work in a hotel in Malta, but they can't focus on clearing tables and making beds, when what they're really both interested in is the male guests. The two of them hunt together, the perfect pair. And when they spot Rolf, a Swedish silver fox, the scene is set for a threesome and some very naughty poolside fun.

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The other great thing about the roof garden is that no one can see in.

When I go up that day, Room 406 is already on his sun-lounger, tapping a pencil against his upper lip as he reads his papers. Vittor is waiting behind the bar, ready to lock the stair door as I put on a distraction. I do my best: I’m wearing only a tiny bikini of brilliant yellow lycra. I know how it draws the eye. I’m short, but there are deep curves to my hips and arse and waist. I shake out my long dark hair and stride over to the pool, my breasts jiggling enticingly with every step.

I can feel his eyes on me. But at first I ignore him. I slip into the aquamarine water and do some lazy widths on my back, rolling every so often to show off my bum in its yellow thong. Whenever I put a hand on the pool edge and look covertly in his direction, pretending to catch my breath, Room 406 is watching me.

Then Vittor comes out and joins in, stripped down to his red trunks. We make a helluva contrast; him so big and me so little, but both of us bronzed and glistening, both young and beautiful. We giggle and play together, splashing and kissing. Maybe you remember those old signs they used to have around public poolsides – No running, no petting, no ducking –? Well, we break all those rules. I wriggle out of Vittor’s arms and haul myself out of the pool, squealing as he chases me to try and swat my arse.

Ever seen a dog chase something past another dog? Dog number two can’t help but join in. I run in a little too close to our engineer and then stumble, tripping into him: he puts out his arms to catch me. Part of him thinks he’s saving me from a fall, but I know what his underlying instinct is.

‘Sorry!’ I gasp, landing in his lap. I’ve been told his English is good. ‘Oh, I’m sorry! I’ve got you all wet!’
I’ve got him all hard too. It’s not subtle, I know, but what man likes subtle? He’s got shorts on and his legs are tanned and muscular – I just bet he cycles and skis to work at his factory or his university or whatever it is back home. But he’s got a stiffy under those shorts and it’s poking me.

Vittor stands a few metres back, grinning.

‘That’s OK,’ Room 406 says hoarsely, his hands still on my waist.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Rolf.’

‘Hi, Rolf. I’m Lena. And that’s Vittor.’

‘He is your boyfriend?’ Rolf is a bit confused, and a bit nervous.

I giggle and shrug, which is about as accurate as it gets. ‘Want to join us in the pool?’

He hesitates, then nods. He can’t stop looking at the pool water beaded on my breasts, and my nipples poking up through the yellow bikini fabric. I give him a good flash of my arse as I stand, though, and lead the way to the water’s edge, barely giving him time to shed his shirt and glasses. ‘First one to catch me ...’ I call, and dive.

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Buy at Xcite Books

Foreign Affairs on Kindle   No Running, No Petting on Kindle (Amazon US)

Foreign Affairs in paperback   Foreign Affairs on Kindle  No Running, No Petting on Kindle (Amazon UK)

Bound by Lust guest post: Andrea Dale

We're out and we're proud!

Bound by Lust is out, that is - an anthology of BDSM romance. And we (the authors) are so proud of this fabulous collection that for the next few weeks we're blogging all over each other's sites like some great big poly orgy ;-)

Shanna Germain, our semi-divine editor, kicked off yesterday with a post about the intricacies of assembling a themed anthology - there's way more to it than putting the call out and picking the stories you like best.

Today contributing author Andrea Dale is my guest here. Her story is called A Few Things to Pick Up on Your Way Home (gah, I'm jealous of her already! What a great title!) and at this point I'm going to welcome her here and let her tell you all about it . . .

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"I like to take chances, try new things, stretch myself when I’m writing. I did that twice with “A Few Things to Pick Up on Your Way Home”: I wrote from a male point-of-view, and I wrote an erotica story in which no sex, and almost no touching, takes place. In fact, except for the first few paragraphs, the couple aren’t even together. In many ways, it ends up being a phone-sex story.

And kind of an exhibitionism story.

And kind of a BDSM story.

But at its heart, at its core, it’s romantic, like so many of my stories are. Not necessarily a romance with a boy-meets-girl arc—it’s about a married couple—but romantic in the sense that the husband knows (and adores) his wife, knows what she likes, knows how to push her buttons and how far he can push those buttons; and the wife knows (and adores) her husband, and trusts him even when he’s pushing her boundaries…. And yet, in some ways, they’re still learning about each other.

To me, that’s heart-thumpingly romantic

Want a tease? Of course you do! To set the scene: Gabrielle’s in a sex shop, on the phone with her husband Jake….


“Jake, I can’t stand here and describe—”

“Sure you can,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “It’ll be fun. Tell me what you see. Tell me what you like.”

He heard the catch in her breath. She was figuring out this was a game.

She’d be embarrassed, but she’d get turned on. She could be deliciously uninhibited at home, but outside she still clung to that corporate persona, concerned about how she presented herself.

He was pretty sure he could convince her to play the game, even if she didn’t yet realize how much of it he’d been planning.

“They’ve got them in every color, of course,” she said. “I—I like the realistic ones better than the plain, smooth ones.”

“Why?”

She was silent for a moment. Finally, “I guess they feel better. Inside.”

“Go on,” he said. He resisted the urge to touch himself. Not so soon. He was hard, though, thinking about Gabrielle in the store, her cheeks flushing a shade of pink that complemented her outfit.

“I like the rabbit one, but we have one of those,” she said.

“So maybe we should think about clit vibes,” he said. “Maybe those little ones that go over your fingers.”

“Is that what you want me to get?”

She wanted to buy something and get out of there. But he still thrilled to the hint of submission in her question. “I think we’re still exploring our options,” he said. “What do you think? How would it feel if I wore them and ran my hand all over you? We could get two sets, for both hands. I’d caress every inch of you, get you all trembly before I even touched your clit.”

She made a little noise, like a mew. The sound went straight to his groin.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Very quietly, almost so quiet that he couldn’t hear her, she said, “I’m getting turned on.”


To read more, pick up your very own copy of Bound by Lust! And if you’d like to check out my other works, stop by at my writing website or my publishing website (where you can get many of my stories as e-books!)"

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Buy Bound by Lust at Amazon US : Amazon UK

Eyecandy Monday

Bound by Lust, the new anthology of BDSM romance, is having an inter-author blog tour over the next few weeks, so here are the dates and blog locations:

June 11 :  Shanna Germain : Welcome from the editor
June 12:  Janine Ashbless (I will be hosting Andrea Dale)
June 13:  Rachel Kramer Bussel (guest post by Sharazade)
June 14:  Allison Wonderland  (guest post by Craig Sorensen)
June 15:  Lisabet Sarai (guest post by Shanna Germain)
June 18:  Andrea Dale (guest post by Clarice Clique)
June 19:  Erotica for All (guest post by Kristina Wright)
June 20:  Alison Tyler
June 21:  Nikki Magennis (guest post by Allison Wonderland)
June 22:  Kristina Wright (guest post by Kristina Lloyd)
June 25:  Clarice Clique  (guest post by Justine Elyot)
June 26:  Vida Bailey (guest post by Veronica Wilde)
June 27:  Valerie Alexander (guest post by Teresa Noelle Roberts)
June 28:  (guest post by Alana Noel Voth)
June 29:  Kristina Lloyd  (guest post by Nikki Magennis)
July 2:     Jeremy Edwards (guest post by Vida Bailey)
July 3:     Teresa Noelle Roberts (guest post by Janine Ashbless)
July 4:     Dorla Moorehouse
July 5:     Justine Elyot  (guest post by Donna George Storey)
July 6:     Shanna Germain

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Do join us!


Buy at Amazon US : Amazon UK

The Joy of Text

[click to enlarge]

I am learning to text!  I can manage a limited range of syntax, though I'm still incapable of capitization or emoticons. As I am working on a primitive phone which doesn't give me a virtual Qwerty but makes me count keystrokes (and where I still need to turn off the predictive text EVERY GODDAMN TIME), I now understand the lure of "r u" instead of "are you."

But I will resist, I tell you. To my dying breath ... Except in emergencies  ;-)
And I will always use the right "your."

Arthur Rackham

There are many fairies in Named and Shamed: some beautiful, some grotesque and some horrific. As I wrote, I had in mind - above all others - the pictures of Arthur Rackham (1867-1939), one of the true greats of the Golden Age of Illustration. His talent was applied to traditional folk stories, Wagner's Ring and the horror tales of Edgar Allen Poe, Alice in Wonderland and A Midsummer Night's Dream. He could be creepy, whimsical or sexy, but always completely convincing. His goblins lived and breathed.

So, anyway, here's a sampling of Rackham's pictures - to let you see what inspired me, and what the Fairyland of Named and Shamed looks like in my head.

 

 

Oh - Kay!

Heh. That's a well-placed rose!

Today I'm over at Kay Jaybee's blog, talking about Named and Shamed and how it links to my previous novel Wildwood.

Wildwood, btw, got the nuclear bomb-blast of all reviews some years back, when a deeply traumatised lady reviewer on some romance website described it with apoplectic outrage as "The worst book I've read this year, and one of the five worst books I've ever read in my life."

I think she may have been a little offended by all the sex. It's a good job she's never going to read Named and Shamed, because I think that would probably kill her stone dead.

Wildwood at Amazon US : Amazon UK

Eyecandy Monday

I swear, when I look at this picture I can actually feel myself turning into a bloke.

Not a man - a bloke.

Dinosaur dreams

For years I've dreams in which the world is suddenly menaced by a Tyrannosaurus Rex Apocalypse. Well, zombies are so predictable...

What better antidote to night terrors can there be than a jolly song about dinosaurs?

Velociraptor -

He's gonna find ya!

He's gonna kill ya!

He's gonna eat ya!

And if you want more, and crazier, there is of course the Motherfucking Pterodactyl song.

(Yes, I know pterosaurs aren't dinosaurs, strictly speaking. Feh. Nerds.)

Excerpt - Being His Bitch

Bound by Lust is out on sale!

Edited by the wonderful wordsmith Shanna Germain, and subtitled "romantic stories of submission and sensuality," this is an anthology of stories where BDSM meets love. Ideal for the reader who wants to move on from Fifty Shades... I'd have thought ;-)

Here's an excerpt from my contribution, Being His Bitch, which is themed about petplay. Rosie and Dev are off for a night out at their kink-club...

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To finish off my costume, we had a collar with a dog-tag dangling from it and a chain leash with a leather loop. Engraved on the disc was the legend Naughty Little Bitch. We could’ve got that done discreetly ourselves, using one of those machines you find in pet stores, but Dev made me go into the engraver's shop and order it in person from the man behind the counter. The guy gave me one hell of a look, but didn't ask any questions, and I emerged from the shop with my panties so wet and my legs so wobbly that I could hardly walk straight.

“All done?” Dev asked.

“Yes,” I whispered, leaning my head against his chest.

He knew what that meant. Taking the disc from me with one hand, he put the other on my ass and gave me a squeeze and a pat. “Good girl.” I whimpered and rubbed up against him, but he just chuckled. “Save it for Saturday night.”

By Saturday I was strung out on anticipation and so inflamed with arousal that Dev had to order me to stop touching myself as we drove into the city. I shed my coat in the cloakroom with a feeling of profound relief. Dev clipped the leash to my collar and used it to pull me to him and plant a kiss on my lips, all slippery, possessive tongue, reminding me where my focus lay for the evening. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Already people were checking me out, there in the lobby. I was aware of grins and raised eyebrows and nods. Under my paint I was naked, and shaved as smooth as silk. I looked respectable from a distance but incredibly naughty close-to, and that made my nipples stand out like switches ready to be flicked.

“I love you, Rosie,” he growled. “So fucking much. You're so beautiful.” Then he tugged the chain. “Heel, bitch.”

We ascended the stairs slowly, morphing into character with every step, his pace proud and easy, my obedient place at his side and one step behind. Playing this particular game is, for me, the ultimate in intimacy. Playing it in public for the first time was taking our trust in one another to a whole new level.

We went into the bar first and queued so that Dev could order drinks—bottled beer for him, bottled water for me. As soon as he stopped walking I sank to my knees by his leg, waiting patiently as a good dog should. 

“Hello Dev.” Black leather chaps loomed over me. It was Bill, a Club friend and someone we had played with before, but I didn't try to greet him. I was being a mute animal, after all. “Nice dog you've got there.”

“Thank you.”

“What's her name?”

“Princess.”

“May I stroke her?”

 “Go ahead. She likes having her chest rubbed.” Dev turned away slightly to give his order to the barman, and Bill stooped to scratch me gently behind the ears—my real ears.

I opened my mouth, panting a little and leaning into the caress. It was stuffy down here among the forest of legs. I could smell leather and spilt beer. The front of my admirer's pants were tented by a bulge, but that didn't mean anything in particular: most of the guys here walk round with a semi the whole night, and I can't speak for all the girls, but my pussy is open and juicy and fluttering from the moment we walk in. Bill crouched to caress the smooth cream blaze of my chest, stroking my breasts, and I shut my eyes in pleasure, pushing those orbs up into his hand. I'm a dog. Anybody may stroke me, so long as my master gives permission. Anybody.

"Good girl, Princess,” he murmured. His fingers flicked my bare nipples. “You like that, don't you?”
  
I didn't answer, but as Dev turned back to us, I caught the tips of Bill's fingers with my tongue and licked them, and he laughed.

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Buy at Amazon US : Amazon UK