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Winter Wonder Man Blog Hop $50 Gift Card #giveaway and More!

Welcome to the Winter Wonder Man Blog Hop. I’m one of your many hosts, Kimber Vale. Our topic is sexy men who make your toes curl and keep you warm on those cold winter nights.

Well, here’s a babe who keeps my dreams spicy-hot.

Nothing I love more than a sexy singer covered in tattoos. Swoon. I’ve got a history of writing characters exactly like that, as a matter of fact. 😉

I’m days away from sending my second rock star book, Double Takes, Shooting Stars Book 2 to my publisher. To celebrate, I’ll include a snippet from that book.

—-

“Can’t be too careful, huh?” Gio said. Cities were cities, but still it seemed a little paranoid to lock your door just to walk down the stairs. Maybe he had an undesirable neighbor.

“Just a creature of habit, I guess,” Lance answered, as they stepped into his place. He dead bolted the door behind them. “Too many bad guys out there.”

“And yet you let me in.”

Lance turned to Gio with a serious expression.

“Are you a bad guy, Gio Savale? If you are, tell me now.” His face broke into a half-grin. “Yeah, it would shatter a decade-long fantasy. But if you’re here to spend the night, it’ll hurt much worse tomorrow.”

Gio’s stomach flip-flopped. Was he here to spend the night? And was he a good enough guy to live up to whatever Lance made him out to be?

I’m just a guy. Not a god. Not a hero. Hell and gone from perfect. Gio raked a hand through his hair as he searched for the truth. “My life’s a fucked-up mess.” He coughed a laugh. “I’m totally conflicted about even coming here…” He shook his head, asking for understanding with his eyes. “But I couldn’t stop myself.” Gio stepped closer to the man he’d inexplicably wanted since the first moment he saw him. “I’m just a guy who can’t get you out of my head. Is that good enough?”

Lance closed the distance between them. Their bodies nearly touched, and his warm hands reached up to frame Gio’s stubbled cheeks. “That’s perfect,” he said.

——-

If you love someone, set him free. If he steals something of yours, hunt him down and make him sorry. Alex Bremen is over Chance Ralan. Ever since his high school boyfriend ditched him nine years ago, Alex has barely thought of Chance at all. Sure, Alex attended a concert or two when his ex’s band, Armageddon Showdown, was in the area, but that was more curiosity than anything else. Who wouldn’t want to see firsthand how his once clean-cut boyfriend transformed into a pierced and tattooed heavy metal god? But when Chance has the nerve to record a love song Alex wrote for him years ago, Alex crosses the country to confront him. Revenge becomes a dish best served sizzling hot. The two men lock horns, but find the chemistry between them has only intensified with time, and occasionally love needs to do some growing up before it can be done right.

If you love someone, set him free. If he steals something of yours, hunt him down and make him sorry.

For my individual giveaway, I’ve got a $5 Amazon gift card.  Click on the Rafflecopter link below to enter.

My Rafflecopter giveaway for a $5 Amazon e-Gift Card

Make sure you leave a comment to be in the running for the grand prize $50 Barnes & Noble or Amazon gift card (winner’s choice), and check out the prizes at all of these other stops:


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Terms and Conditions: This promotion is in no way sponsored, endorsed or administered by, or associated with, Facebook. We hereby release Facebook of any liability. Winner(s) will be contacted by email 48 hours after the giveaway ends. If you have any additional questions – feel free to send us an email!

Thanks for playing!

-Kimber

*****UPDATE! Thanks for playing, everyone! Donna Newman is my winner for the $5 gift card, and Joanne W. wins the $50 grand gift prize!


Slippery When Wet or Too #Sexy for my Blog or The Art of Writing Male/Male Anal

Did you sing that horrible song when you read the title?  A small, malicious part of me hopes so. >:-) Oh! I didn’t mean anything Bon Jovi, although this is a musical entry, I must say. Anyway, allow me to serenade you while we go at it, here.

The Slippery When Wet Blog Hop begins today, and I am ill-prepared. Or maybe too prepared. Anyway, I have a blog post I penned a while back, which seemed too risqué to send to other places as a guest blog, but is just right tonight after realizing I have two hours to get this sweetheart posted. Enter: The Art of Writing Male/Male Anal.

The Art of Writing M/M Anal

This won’t be comprehensive, but how about the basics for virgin author’s everywhere who want to delve into the great “Do Not Enter?” Sometimes it’s not just an exit, ladies and gentleman, but there are a couple of things we’re going to need in order to get this bird off the ground. So wave your magic pen and produce these magical items:

1.         Condom.  This baby gets top billing for most smut peddlers the world over. Publishing houses, generally speaking, are pretty firm on the “No Creampie” rule. That’s not to say you can’t sneak them in once in a while, especially in short stories which are more likely to fall into the erotica without romance or stupid people having risky sex categories (read: one seat closer to the almighty porn throne).  I wrote a short for Shane Allison’s Bad Boy anthology with Cleis Press (which should be out soon, actually) and had a bank robber getting it on with a hostage right after the hold up. Needless to say, there were no condoms available at the hideout in the woods. Obviously plot factors into your safe sex decision.

Also, if your MCs are in a serious, committed relationship, and you’ve laid that on the line—maybe even with a side note on VD testing (archaic term that is so Pretty in Pink it makes me smile–no, wait, I think that was Sixteen Candles)—you can go ahead and get really nasty. But—general rule of thumb—have a rubber in someone’s pocket/drawer/under the seat of their car/in the little booze container around their faithful St. Barnard’s neck.  Whatever. Non-human exceptions exist as well.  Aliens don’t carry AIDS and all you need is a rabies shot to get it on with a wolf shifter.

2.         Lube. This runs alongside the condom. For one, rubbers—even if they say lubricated—are going to make things, shall we say, rougher, than skin on skin. Also, chicks have the built-in lube. That’s right, we can make our own, so in vaginal sex no one gets bent out of shape if a bottle of K-Y isn’t sitting on your fictional dresser. But M/M? The human ass needs a helping hand (full of spit or jelly).  Spit isn’t the best, but it’s always available unless they are trapped in the Sahara, in which case, I doubt they’re feeling too amorous.

3.         A little foreplay. Even if you’ve got the rubber on your big burly top, he’s squirted an entire bottle of love-lotion on his long-stocking, and his pretty boyfriend is face-down-ass-up, it isn’t nice to just stick it in without a little preamble.  Rimming works, but if your guys aren’t so inclined, a gradual finger work-up is really the kinder, gentler thing to do than insta-penetration.

4.         Mention of the prostate.  No, it isn’t a prostrate like your mother-in-law calls it.  That means lying down with your face smashed into a pillow, which may well be the case with your sexy little bottom who happens to be getting his prostate hammered by his bear.  Not necessarily something you MUST mention, but seems to be a huge factor in the pleasure experience for the guy getting fucked.  I don’t know.  I don’t have one myself, and frankly I feel robbed. I’m going to go write my congressman right now.

5.         The grand finale!  I don’t need to tell you how to do this, really. The world is your orgasm oyster.  Have a fire hose showdown if you like.  One thing to remember is that if the guy on bottom gets off first, I hear tell having a big dick in his ass for an extended time after can be uncomfortable.  Again, I can’t verify this personally and I can’t ask my husband.  I also can’t take part in a fire hose showdown.  Robbed again.  Why else do you think I write this stuff?  It’s the closest I can cum, er come, I’m afraid. 😥

—————

There you have it! Now go out there and write some hot manlove. Who knows? You could be a natural! If you don’t feel comfortable doing it yourself, feel free to comment below for a chance to win my e-book “Forever is Now” and I’ll be happy to provide it for you.

In your comment, you may tell me your favorite 80’s song/movie or must-have male/male gettin’-it-on accouterments I missed. Fire at will, contest open all over the universe, and don’t forget to check out all the other blogs and comment like a mother-fucker.  Every comment on every stop gets you one step closer to the $50 gift card giveaway. I don’t make the rules, I just play by them (yeah, right).

-Kimber

This is a Blog Hop!



Hot Summer Romance Giveaway Hop!

Well, would you look at that?  <——

It’s like the backwards blog!  I don’t even try to make you read my post before you get to the goods!

Actually, I will make you comment.  And I’ll be bikini brief, I promise. All comments for all participating blogs will be shuffled around in a random name picker (not to be confused with a random nose picker). So comment on all the blogs at the top for the best chance to kick ass at winning!

But first, a word from your sponsor.

We have two grand prizes. #1 is a Kindle Fire. #2 is a $50 Amazon.com gift certificate.  Not too shabby. And you can win an e-book from me right here, baby! Fantabulous!

Hold up.  Wait and read what I have to say!  We’re talking words of wisdom passed down from generation to generation, folks. In the spirit of romance and hot summer lovin’, I had an old family proverb pop into mind.  It goes a little something like this:

When the weather’s hot and sticky,

That’s no time to dunk the dicky.

When the frost is on the pumpkin,

That’s the time for dicky dunkin’.

Thanks, Dad and Grandpa! So while it may be wicked-hot and hard to imagine dicky dunkin’ of any variety, fall is coming (and for you G.O.T. fans, winter isn’t far behind). To celebrate, I’m giving away a copy of my latest release, Star Catcher.  I never do this—goes against my personal company policy, so be very excited.  Star Catcher is set in the fall, and despite this heat wave we’re having, I can just imagine a bracing breeze as my heroine, Stella, races through a corn maze to escape otherworldly beasts. And I want to share it with y’all.

starcatchercover

So, comment, and I’ll shove your deets into the random name generator thingy, and if everything doesn’t get sucked into a voracious black hole, I’ll pick a winner.  It just may be you. 🙂

*****

Excerpt from Star Catcher:

Another overgrown shape materialized to Stella’s left. It sniffed the air and turned alarmingly in her direction.

It was all the impetus she needed. Stella turned and ran from the hounds of hell.

The stalks beat against her. They stung her bare skin and grasped her hair like bony fingers as she forced her body through the canes. She dug a path through the dry material, raking the plants with her hands to make way for her body, only to be slapped in the face as she split the rows. Stella ran like never before. In high school, she had competed in plenty of races on the track team. The act of pushing her body to the limit was not foreign to her.

This race was far worse, though. The stakes were life or death.

Fire speared through her chest as she sprinted between the scratchy vegetation with nothing more than moonlight to guide her. Rising hysteria made her breathing more labored than running alone. The thing could hear her crashing through the corn and could detect her scent. There was no point in trying to be stealthy. All she could do was move as swiftly as possible.

The pale moonlight grew brighter up ahead, and she forced herself not to slow.

Nearly safe. Get out of this nightmarish maze. Almost there.

Stella broke from the corn. A breath of unbelievable freedom nearly choked her, cool and remarkable, before she slammed into a wall of glass. Her arm had been pumping upward and took the brunt of the blow, but the barrier was completely unexpected. The breath gushed out of her like a released balloon.

She lay stunned in the damp grass, shaking and hyperventilating. The blades rose tall around her, and she was tempted to stay down; to hide. Who could see her here?

But that thing could smell her.

She wasn’t safe until her car door closed, and she was locked inside. Then she could relax. Stella managed to pull up on all fours and crawl over to the invisible wall. She reached a hand into what should have been open air and was met with ice-cold resistance.

What the hell?

It felt like plastic. She noticed a faint give and recoil as she pushed hard against the wall. It was like an invisible force field. Her stomach did a somersault.

Stay calm. If you lose your head, you’re done. Get to the entrance of the maze. Head right, follow the wall. You can get out of this, but you need to move now.

The voice in her head gave the command and she obeyed. Stella sprang up. Fight-or-flight hormones surged through her, and she began to run at top speed along the edge of the field. Her hand trailed along the smooth, cool barrier, waiting for a break in the enclosure. Sooner or later she would find the exit—that, or a dog-monster. Or maybe she’d run straight into the freaky sideshow chicks who had imprisoned them. Whatever happened, she wasn’t going down without a struggle.

If she was bound for Hell tonight, she wouldn’t be the only one.

-Kimber


Versatile Blogger Award–Hoorah!!!!

Seems I should really check my email more frequently.  Three days ago I was nominated for The Versatile Blogger Award by The Secrets of a Southern Belle.  So exciting, I get to add a bit of cyber-bling to my blog!  Thanks so much, Southern Belle!

And may I recommend you check her out–she dishes some delightfully racy secrets.

Here is the bling:

And now for 7 random things…

1.  I love to eat dinner for breakfast and breakfast for dinner.

2.  I had a crayfish named Stretch when I was a kid.

3.  I was a (self-proclaimed) Mercy champion until I sprained a finger in high school.

4.  I love to sing.  Not sure how the neighbors feel about it, but oh well.

5.  I’ll try anything once.

6.  I’ve tried most things at least once.

7.  I’d sell my soul for a time machine.

And here are the rules for the award:

1. Add the award to your blog.

2. Thank the blogger who gave it to you and include a link to their blog.

3. Mention 7 random things about yourself.

4. List the rules.

5. Give the award to 15 or more bloggers

Sweet.  Now I am off to make some excellent bloggers’ day.


The (Real) Problem with Romance Novels

I was led to a lovely little blog via an erotica author on twitter.  The blog author is an unpublished Sci/Fi writer, but states that he “will write anything that pays” for his questionable eating habits (except Romance, I surmise).  His blog post is entitled “The Problem with Romance Novels” and I won’t paraphrase here–the link is below so you can get it straight from the donkey’s mouth.   

I read through the entire post and all the comments and felt spurred to throw my own voice into the ring.  At the time, I figured that the all-powerful Cale McWhatskey would delete my comment as I failed to agree with him. 

I checked back a few days after launching my comment, to see if he had a reply for me, but the blog master had added a final statement of his own, saying, approximately, that he would no longer be posting/replying to comments as he was tired of repeating himself and couldn’t waste any more time on the subject matter.  It was truly magnanimous of him to post on the dubious merits of the romance genre in the first place, I’d say.

As of right now, he seems to have removed his ban on comments to allow another that shares his narrow view to take up residence.  And he seems to have gotten his second wind as far as replying, so long as you agree with him.

Well, this is my blog, and I can respond right here.  Hoorah for free speech and free blog fodder.  Thank you, Oh McWise One, for making my blogging day.

Here is the link to the original blog post, followed by my response.  If anyone cares to comment, feel free to do so.  I promise not to post only the comments from my boot-licking friends. 🙂

http://calemccaskey.blogspot.com/2012/01/problem-with-romance-novels.html#comment-form

My comment:

I realize your goal is to cause a stir here because even negative attention is still attention.  That’s blogging 101.  Not sure they teach that in Harvard

Anyway, kudos.  Here I am.

I love your “grown women should be over that” argument.  I wonder if you lump erotica in with romance or if that is a steaming pile all on its own, but either way, romance has sex scenes, graphic or no, and is therefore, completely inappropriate for “little girls.”

Furthermore, romance/erotica frequently has sub genres, like the paranormal you mentioned, and sci/fi, suspense, fantasy, or even horror.  The author not only has to write an engaging spec. fic., or historically accurate Regency, but she/he also has to get the emotional/physical love part right.  So said author is taking your chosen genre one step further.

Is everyone who gets published Hemingway or Poe (and I’m sure you hate them, too)?  Of course not.  That reality goes for all genres, as you are doubtless aware.

Ought grown men to be done with Sci/Fi after their comic book days are over?  Or does still living in one’s mother’s basement make reading the genre acceptable?  Seriously, a woman could lose herself in a Romance story and be swept up by a perfect, fictitious, male character, or she could hang with the likes of you. 

I don’t care how big your… wallet is; hand me the book.  If men were as fantastic, in reality, as those in romance novels, I would totally read F. Scott Fitzgerald while receiving my post cunnilingus foot rub.  Your mere existence makes romantic fiction an absolute necessity for the female of the species.

***

So, that is the whole of it.  And it brings us full circle to the real problem with romance novels.  That is, the delicious men of fiction make real guys seem even more intolerable.  Alas, keep reading and keep looking, Ladies.  And don’t settle for the dregs. 


Don’t be a Nit-Twit, Sparky. Or Suspense During Certain Armageddon.

Like how I did that?  The double title?  One to be all cute and crafty and one to let you know what the actual blog post it pertaining to?  I’d say the idea was all mine, but that would be a lie.  And I am a crap liar.  Also a shitty secret-keeper.  FYI:  If you tell me you have a secret, I will swear up and down that I will never breathe a word of it over my favorite dog’s dead body.  Then you tell me, and I blab it EVERYWHERE.  I don’t have a favorite dog, and I cannot refrain from spilling my (your) guts to random strangers on the street.  So do yourself a favor and keep it to yourself.  Just sayin’.
But I digress.  How unusual.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank the HBO show “Hung.”  It took me a week to figure out what program I have watched with any regularity that uses the dual title thing.  I should have known!  And to promo “Hung” (because they need me to do so on my piddly-ass blog thing) the male hooker, what’s his face–Thomas Jane, is hotter than a ball sack with a cup on for the whole nine innings.

Did you like how I did that?  I don’t even watch basketball.  Go figure.

So I’m twittering the other day and I come across this tweet about, “Can there be suspense when you already know everyone will die?”  Now, the author of said tweet provided a (now evident) link to his blog, which was a review of the latest Final Destination movie.  Gotta be number 12 or there-about.  So, I respond without looking at the link, thinking that this is a deep question for writers and quite in keeping with my (failed) plan to blog on suspense for a bit.  And BINGO was his name O.  Right?  Wrong.

Yes.  I am a Nit-Twit.  I’m getting better, though, and seeking online council from a variety of smut writers, beer brewers, and various other persons willing to “be friends” with me, or whatever the Tweet version of that Facebook shite is.

Anyway, I dive bomb in with an intriguing and well-thought-out answer (por supuesto).  I twat, “You can always play with the when,” and “If the reader cares about the characters, there can still be suspense, even in certain death.”

I thought I was onto something.  And the whole line of thought got me stuck on “On the Beach.”  You know, that old school book set in a futuristic 1960-something about a group of people living in Australia following a nuclear holocaust?  They are just waiting for the fallout to reach them and snuff their lives out slowly and painfully.  There are people starting relationships, babies, and gardens.  And offing themselves, if I remember correctly.

That was the play on “when” I was considering.  It’s been a while since I read it, and it may deserve a revisit just for nostalgia’s sake.  And while not the epitome of suspense, this dated book kept me reading, and crying, and wondering what will happen until the end.  Now, granted, I was a nerdy little kid when I read it.  Perhaps it would not strum me so hard today.  Was it white-knuckle material?  Not by a flower-pot, but it was moving, and thought-provoking, and stayed with me as an example of subtle horror done right.

And, while I cannot remember precisely thinking that “there must be a way for them to live” I know that I was.  That is my nature.  It is fiction (realistic for the time, yes) but where there is an imagination, there is always a way, no?  It is the nature of the pen.

Same with stupid sequels to a movie that never should have had a second.  It’s fiction.  And they defy death throughout.  At least in the first one, two characters survive, right?  My memory of that film is as foggy as “On the Beach,” but the hero and heroine make it, right?

Until next time when they are reborn with different faces and suffer most disturbingly for denying death his just cheese cake.

Well, the twitterer seemed to think the whole “when” thing was invalid and reminded me that he was referring to a specific blog post

(Yes; I am a twitter douche bag.  So don’t friend me if you think I am not worthy of following your book’s rise to mediocrity or your “too adorable for words” cat photos).

The tweeter added, within his allotted character count, to say that I was correct about the “caring about the character” part.  Unfortunately, that was the entire point of his post.  So no points for me.  And no one cares about the Final D 2011 characters, although people will still, apparently, pay money to see them in the theaters.

If only he realized I never even read the blog until after I felt like a jackass.
Oh wait…I guess he did.

So, that concludes my most recent rectal ramblings.  Stay tuned as I plan to denigrate the Holy Bible, or at least major parts of it, in a future post.  That, or write a poem about Clammy Clams.  Maybe both.


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