Jingle Balls Hop

Click on "Santa" to follow links

Welcome to a new experience for me.  I'm hopping with some pretty "big guns" in the adult-content department via this prize extravaganza hosted by Madame D's Boudoir and Satin's Bookish Corner.  I'm so out of my element, but it's Christmas, I like men, and I particularly love the badge for this hop.  Who could resist?

Addition & Correction:  The contest runs from December 12-17th and all winners will be announced on the 18th.  I'll be back on Sunday afternoon (December 18th) to leave the winner's name in comments.) One of the requirements is that I have a giveaway, and since it's Ho Ho HO time, I'm going to combine Santa's good list with his naughty and offer winner's choice to one lucky winner picked from those visitors who leave a comment.  Since I know people are nervous about posting their email addys...those dratted bots and all, I'll announce the winners in the comments section here on Sunday afternoon.  Check back.  :)

Choice One:  A free download of Virginia's Miracle - a sweet Christmas tale.
Choice Two:  A free download of Searcher's - written by someone very close to me, and penned with a lot of steam, Pepper St. Claire.


So, let the party begin...
Jingle Balls, Jingle Balls, Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is too ride...



Oh, heck, I never could sing very well, but I can write.  Let me share the following Christmas Story as my gift for joining me today:

Santa, The Tooth Fairy

Little Kayla sat near the Christmas tree and wiggled her lose tooth. She stopped and turned her attention from the crackling fire beyond the hearth. “Mommy, if I pull my tooth, do you think Santa will leave me a dollar.”

Her mother laughed. “I think you have things mixed up, honey. It’s the tooth fairy who leaves money.”

Kayla cocked her head and flashed that familiar look of independence. “I know that, Mommy! But if my tooth falls out at tonight, maybe Santa will reward me, too. I’m not sure if the Tooth Fairy works on Christmas Eve.”

Although only four, the child had a penchant for being creative. Margaret Tanner put her knitting aside and walked past her daughter to the fireplace. She poked at the logs and sent flaming fingers stretching up the chimney. “I don’t think Santa will have time to look under your pillow. You know, he’s very busy this time of year.” She walked back to her chair.

The front door opened, and a blast of cold air flickered the fire. “Daddy, daddy,” Kayla called, rushing over and grabbing him around the knees.

He ruffled her hair with his gloved hand. “Hi, Sweetheart. Let me get out of my coat and I’ll give you a hug. It’s cold outside.” He shrugged off his outerwear, sending snow flaking to the marbled entry hall floor. After hanging his coat in a nearby closet, he scooped Kayla into his arms and nuzzled her neck until she giggled. Stopping, he leaned his head back and studied her face. “Have you been a good girl today?”

“Oh yes, Daddy, and I’ve decided you can pull my loose tooth.”

He flashed a puzzled look at his wife.

She smiled. “We’ve already discussed the tooth fairy, but Kayla seems to think Santa should play a part.”

Her father placed Kayla on the ground, took her hand, and walked to his plaid recliner. Sitting, with her perched on his knee, he scratched his brow. “Why don’t we just wait until that tooth falls out on its own? There’s no rush.”

“But, I want you to pull it.” Her eyes clouded with tears and her little bow lips pulled into a pout.

“Then, let me see.” He took hold of the loose tooth and wiggled it. “You’re right. I think it could come out.” Russell Tanner ruffled her hair again.

“Then pull it, Daddy.” She scrunched her eyes closed and hunched her shoulders.

“I already did.” He held up a tiny, white enamel pearl.

Her eyes widened. She smacked her lips, then made a face. A wee bit of blood dotted her bottom lip.

“Come on, Kayla, let’s rinse out your mouth and get you ready for bed," her mother said. "Santa comes tonight and if you aren’t asleep, he’ll just pass us by.”

Kayla slid off her father’s knee and flashed a smile. She looked adorable with a space where her tooth was just minutes ago. “Thank you, Daddy. I wanted to see if Santa will leave me a dollar so I can put it in the offering plate at church tomorrow. It’s Jesus’ birthday and I want to leave him a gift.”
***

Remember, click on the hunky Santa at the start of this post to get back to the other links to follow.  Remember, some of the blogs host mainly adult-related material, so proceed to win at your own risk.  *lol*  Merry Christmas Everyone, and thanks to my hostesses for offering such a fun experience.

I Confess on Six Sentence Sunday

For the next few Sundays, I'm going to share six sentences from MY...yes moi...erotica, Searchers.  Coming this month from Whiskey Creek's Torrid Line in a second, improved version, this is my debut/swan song all wrapped up in one.  If you would like to participate and share sex...I mean six sentences of your own, you must register at http://sixsunday.com/ anytime during the week preceding Sunday.  Add your link, post your blog, and then be fair and visit the sites of as many of the other participants.  I've been missing the fun because I'm in Alaska on vacation, but I'll be home on the 26th, and I'm playing from God's Country this weekend.  :)

Without further ado, here are my...um Pepper's six:  This installment isn't more than rated R, but trust me...we'll get there.  :)


His Levi jeans encased his long, muscular legs as though he had laid in a mold then had them tailor-made. A perfect bulge displayed itself invitingly, but Katie tried to be inconspicuous with her stares. He invoked images of James Dean, a rebel; sleeves rolled up just below the elbows, and top buttons left open to reveal an alluring chest. Joey even had the same rebellious look in his chocolate eyes.


Katie‟s heart skipped a beat at the thought of unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way.

“Hi, good-lookin‟, I was hoping I‟d find you here.”
 
 
Join me next week for more from Searchers.

Welcome, Pepper St. Claire

February is traditionally thought of as the "lover's month." Jewelry, candy and flower sales skyrocket as husbands and wives try to display their love for one another.

While a diamond is nice, it's not always within one's budget. Flowers wither and die, and candy tastes sweet in the moment but the added calories can plant themselves on hips, thighs and butts and linger for years. :)

Why not give your significant other something to remember. Think outside the box, like my heroine in Searchers . (Warning, if you're squeamish about scenes leading up to sex, please stop here. Although, I did leave out the most graphic part of this erotic work.)

Short Excerpt:

While Rick showered, Katie lit some fragrant candles and popped a romantic CD in the stereo.

The anticipation was driving her wild. Just parading around in her sexy leather outfit made her feel horny as hell. God, will you ever get finished.

“Rick, are you almost done?”

“Be right there.”

He walked into the bedroom stark naked. Beads of water remaining on his body glistened in the subtle light, and his freshly-washed hair was deliciously tousled already. The crop of dark hair on his
abdomen lay in a perfect line of ringlets that led to a magnificent organ. Katie wanted to run her fingers down the path and find the treasure.

Her heart filled with pride. Stella was right, he was a good-looking man.

Katie eyed him hungrily. “Hey, I like your outfit, too.”

“I’m wearing it just for you, baby.” He sprawled out on the bed and noticed the cuffs. “Hey, what are these?”

“Let me show you.” She straddled him and took his arm, then placed his left hand in one of the fur-covered restraints—she snapped it shut. Afterward, she shackled his right hand. Turning around to cuff his ankle, she wiggled her behind sensually to make sure he noticed her crotchless undies. She rolled off the bed and stood looking down at him. “Comfortable?”

“Actually, I feel a little afraid. What have you got in mind for me? Maybe I should have asked that before I let you hog-tie me.”

Katie picked up the feather and softly ran it up and down his chest. “Oh, don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. Unless, of course, you want me to.”

If you would like to read more, Searchers is one of the Torrid offerings at Whiskey Creek Press.

Sex and Senior Citizenry

I’m so not the sexy type. No matter how hard I try to pretend, there is nothing about this sixty-four-year-old body that makes me think I could make a man shiver with desire. Therein lies the problem with being successful in writing Erotica…at least from my POV. When I write, the characters tell me a story and I have to envision the concept to put it into words. There are just no words adequate enough to drag something sexy from this brain to my fingertips. All I can see is myself, and believe me, no one wants to share that image. Someone forgot to secure the baggage and the package shifted during travel. Seriously!

There once was a time when I could put on a black nightie and feel somewhat desirable, but that ship sailed…and I believe sunk some years ago. Truth is, age steals so many things from you that you’ve always taken for granted. All those graphic stories that tell of “his” manhood delving into her “moist” woman’s cave. HA! Once you become a senior citizen, if you don’t have a bottle of lube by the bedside, you’d better be prepared to scream…and not in ecstasy. Drier than dust comes to mind!

And those perky breasts! Maybe twenty years ago they were. Now they’ve migrated North and South. When an older woman is flat on her back, it’s not quite so easy to “capture a nipple" when her breasts reside in her armpits.

Once, I was flexible, now I’m arthritic. Sex is about as appealing to me as having a blood test. And of course, those positions that once brought delight now bring Charlie Horses and achy hips. Of course, some may say, “be on top.” NO friggin way! Then I keep flashing back to Dorothy’s advice to Blanche on the Golden Girls to bend over and look in a mirror. OMG! I did and I believe I’m a direct descendant of the Char Pei dog line. That didn’t do a darn thing for my missing self-esteem.

Oh, I know men could have sex with a knot hole, but I’ve always liked to think I was more attractive than a piece of wood. Now I’m not to sure, and sometimes, I actually wish we had a fence. *lol*

I think the main reason I can’t write Erotica is that I’m a “behind the door” kind of girl—both in writing and my personal life. I love romance. I want to feel the attraction, the heat, but I like things left to my imagination. Close the door at that point and let me picture what goes on behind it. I don’t need to read about every lick, suck or plunge. Honestly, I don’t. But to those of you who do, and write or read it with such ease and comfort, I applaud you.

Erotica is a hot seller, but I guess I’ll miss the boat on this one. Same goes for fairies, werewolves, shapeshifters, and vampires. Readers are really into fantasy, and if you throw in sex, you’re got a winning novel. Unfortunately, most of my characters pop out of the old west, and in order to make the story somewhat believable, even if it is fiction, the author has to show the story to the reader. I can’t if I can’t imagine it. Besides, the only thing howling at the moon in my books is going to be a coyote, and if someone’s shape shifts, it’s because she’s with child. I can’t ever recall seeing a fairy or vampire on Little House on the Prairie or Bonanza, so I think I’ll stick with writing what I can see in my mind’s eye. I have cataracts, so maybe that eye has one, too.

Just so you know...I did FORCE myself to write an Erotica some time ago. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. Normally words flow with ease from my mind to my fingers, but, I really struggled to get the story finished. It's entitled, Searchers, and is still available at Whiskey Creek Press.

Ellora's cave rejected it back then because, GASP!!!!, my heroine had an affair. How offensive is that in this day and age? But, my rejection letter cited that the concept would be offensive to readers and not something they endorsed. Like I said in one of my humorous books...you can have sex with a vampire, a hairy werewolf, or an alien in any body orifice, time-travel to another century and screw a count or duke, but God forbid your heroine actually strays to someone else's bed while she's married. That NEVER happens!

AH, THE JOYS OF WRITING

Being an author can mean joy one minute and agony the next. It's not an easy job most of the time. Oh, there's nothing like the feeling of successfully publishing a book and holding that first copy in your hands... looking down at your name and feeling such a sense of accomplishment, Nothing quite compares.

On the other hand, when you write your heart out, complete the manuscript that you think is going to be "it"--the one that makes your mark in the literary world and you get rejected, it's a horrible, defeating feeling. You write in the same style you've always written, but the house to whom you've submitted doesn't like gerunds or adverbs. There isn't enough sexual tension, your characters aren't deep enough, but, oh you've done a great job of avoiding head hopping and your sentence structure is clean. One person can make or break your chance, and that's pretty disheartening.

What happened to panels? Shouldn't more than one person get to choose what's accepted and what's not. We all have such vast opinions. Who is that one person to tell me that my ending wasn't what she expected. Actually, that's what I was shooting for...an ending that no one saw coming. Oh well, it doesn't matter, now I have to decide what to do next.

First I have to dust off my feelings and remind myself that everyone gets rejections. Even the big dogs have binders of them. I don't. I've had the good fortune to have all except one story accepted on first try, so this was a bitter pill. The only other rejection I received was on my debut/swan song Erotica. The reason given: my heroine had an affair and some readers might find that offensive. This from a publisher who offers sex with werewolves, aliens, shifters and mummies, and most likely in any bodily orifice available, but something that happens every day in real life is offensive. Really? I'm pretty turned off by intimacy between a hairy beast with drippings fangs. Give me a choice of cheating or boffing an alien, and I have an affair any day. *lol* Luckily, my second query resulted in a contract, but as I said, Searchers was my one and only Erotica. They're just too hard to write. How many ways can you describe genitalia?

So, as I search through submission guidelines for a new place to submit my manuscript, I try to remain positive, knowing this story will please someone, somewhere. It's just tedious weeding through the jungle to find that one person who'll be in the right frame of mind when he/she reads my synopsis. Sometimes, being an author is like an mosquito bite you have a hard time scratching. It's annoying until you find the right way to contort yourself just enough to quell the itch. I sometimes have a hard time explaining why I continue to try to establish myself as an author, and answers aren't always forthcoming, especially if I'm stressed and tired. I usually fall back on the real reason I keep typing away... because I love what I do, and I can't wait to see where I'll travel with the characters in my next novel or story.