Change and stuff.

We’ve been in our new home in our new state now for five + months. My lips want to form the words “I couldn’t be happier” because that’s mostly my answer when people from back home ask how I’m doing, how I like it, how we’re all transitioning. And honestly, I am happy, very. We live in a nice, quiet neighborhood, the twins attend a wonderful school where they are thriving, and the hubby has seen immense change from his old facility to the one he’s at now.

And I have gone from being a mom, wife and writer who also worked full time to only being responsible for shuttling the kids school and activities and well, taking care of home and stuff, and of course, writing. It was the dream. It was what I always wanted and never thought I could have and now that I have it, I guess it just feels unbelievable.

For one, there’s the self-inflicted guilt that not only am I not generating any income, I’m also not taking full advantage of the many hours I have to myself. I’m doing better about it now. I’m actually writing a novel. I know, I’m always writing a novel, but this is the most dedicated I have ever been to it and I have an actual outline that I’m following. I’ve never done that before, now have I?

Also, the release date for Can’t Get Enough will be here before I know it (July 14, 2014, if you didn’t know) and I’ve got to step up my promotion game. Transitioning from just writing to writing and also editing, that extra responsibility is pretty new to me, but it is very necessary if I want this book to be a success and if I want publishers to want me to edit for them again.

I will be blogging more frequently (famous last words, eh?), here and also over at Can’t Get Enough’s blog. There are some short story calls that I’ve started stories for and I want/need to finish. I just want to be a more dedicated writer, a better me, and that itself will take more change than the big move ever did.

It’s time…

…that I said something, did something, finally after what… a month or so…let my own words appear on my own blog. I’ll admit, I’ve gotten a little comfy in my new life. My only responsibilities being to wake up, get the husband and kids off to work and school, cook meals, and keep the house in some sort of order. And, now that we’ve been in our new place for nearly three months, daily maintenance takes maybe an hour.

No reason I should be napping, or watching every show known to man on demand. No reason I should have stacked all my notebooks in the closet where they wouldn’t be sitting there mocking me, reminding me that I haven’t completed a story, a blog, an essay, nothing since I’ve been here.

I feel pretty bad about that. Which reminds me, I also feel bad. I’m in the midst of a Lyme flare up and just for shits and giggles, depression decided to pull up a chair as well.

These shouldn’t be excuses. And when I think about the fact that I could have written a whole novel during the time I’ve been sitting here napping, watching t.v. and drinking beer, I want to well…crawl under the covers, watch t.v. and have a beer.

But enough of that.

I’m at the writing table right now, typing these words. I’m reminding myself that I have a book coming out next July, an actual book with my name on the cover which is hold in my hands proof that writing is what I do, or at least have been doing, and damn it, I need to get back at it.
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So…here goes.

Ask Yourself…What do You Want? By Alison Tyler

Ultimately, I’m simply a girl on a quest. And what I’m trying to discover, what I’m always working to uncover is this:
Why do I need what I need? Why do I want what I want?
I ask those questions every day.

—From the Intro of Dark Secret Love

We’re taught to want certain things. Clean clothes. (Just watch the commercials. Clean clothes are apparently essential for a happy life.) A dishwasher full of sparkling wine glasses. A big mug of coffee early in the morning. Particularly if you live on a farm.

The world wants us to want certain things.

And I never did. (Okay, I want the coffee—but not the farm.) I always felt as if I ought to want what the rest of the world seemed to want, or as if I might someday, if Mr. Right came along. If the right situation presented itself. Suddenly, I’d understand what the other girls were talking about. I’d go on a date with a perfectly nice man, lean in for a kiss, and feel flickers of desire working through my body.

But honestly, I either was faking—or playing make-believe. You can blend in for a long time…and then one day you realize you’ve become a shell. Fragile. Delicate. Easily broken.

The world wants you to want the handsome man with the bouquet of red roses who takes you to dinner and a movie. The world wants you to giggle and titter and blush when he kisses you on the doorstep as moths beat their wings around your safety light. Nothing out there tells you that it’s okay if what you really want is for him to put down a twenty at the bar, take you out back in the alley and tell you to drop your trousers and assume the position.

What was that?

That’s not in the script they hand you when you become an adult. That doesn’t account for the picket fence and the whitewashed Colonial and the Volvo…

What if what you want is for a man to press up against you, push you into the bricks and says, “Count them off for me. Twenty. Mean. Blows. You’re going to feel these, I assure you.”

What if the whisper of his belt pulling free from the loops of his slacks makes you wetter than any sparkling glass on the planet?

We’re taught to want certain things.

Dark Secret Love is about what happens to a girl who wants something else.

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Alison Tyler is the author of 25 erotic novels, including the soon-to-be-published The Delicious Torment (Cleis Press). She has written a handful of novellas including Tied Up & Twisted (Harlequin), Those Girls (Go Deeper Press), and Banging Rebecca (Pretty Things Press). Visit her at alisontyler.blogspot.com where she promises never to have a cover charge.

The best of me.

After eight days, my son was released from the hospital and is doing great. I was more grateful than words could explain to be back at home, cooking in my kitchen and doing our laundry and sleeping in an actual bet. And, thankfully, the writing continued, on my notes app, in my notebook, on this laptop.

By the end of the hospital stay, Can’t Get Enough had both a Twitter account and a blog. And its cover changed, and will likely change again. But this evening I had a thought…what if I whipped together a collection of my own short stories sort of as an appetizer…and also promo and pre-marketing for the book?

I’ve had this idea before, which I’m sure is well documented here in this very blog, but it hardly came to fruition. I sold…two copies I think?

But that was a good nine or ten years ago, and those stories were all unpublished, actually rejected stories to be honest, and most of them went on to be published eventually.

My point is that since then I’ve published more, been mentioned in more intros and reviews and well, I think I could do all right with a “Best of” collection. Couldn’t hurt to try, right?

Of course… I don’t know much about self publishing, but I’m more than willing to learn, and in the mean time, it would really mean a lot oh four or five of my faithful blog readers if you could mention here in the comments what story of mine you’ve read and liked. Please?

Otherwise, I’m scribbling away on a novel and just started a short story today so I’m happy for inspiration and productivity and hey…Alison Tyler here on this blog…tomorrow!

Zombie Erotoclypse by Tamsin Flowers

Thanks for inviting me over today to give you a taster from my new release, Zombie Erotoclypse. Perfect for reading in the run up to Halloween, these zombies are hot for your body – and not because they want to suck up your brains!

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Blurb:
Have you ever wondered whether zombies have sex? Fall in love? Lust after humans? The five stories in this red hot collection of zombie erotica will answer all these questions and more. If you thought it was tough being a teenage virgin, try it zombie style or why not take a visit to the club where humans get to have their wicked way with hot young zombies – for a price… Meet the Peeping Zom, who develops an obsession with a hot human blonde. Who looks after new zombies and teaches them the art of zombie love-making? And how would you react if the love of your life came home one evening with a zombie bite?

That final question is answered in the final story in the collection, Bar the Door, and here’s an excerpt:

Bar the Door

Emma and Galen take every necessary precaution against the zombie threat, so what happens when one of them is compromised? Galen returns to their safe house having been bitten by a zombie. They know they have only hours left before he transitions into a full-blown zombie – for Emma it’s a last chance to be with the man she loves…

I pulled down my pants and launched myself forward onto the bed between his legs. He smelt fresh and clean from the shower and he seemed to positively gleam with good health. I could hardly believe that he must have already started rotting inside, however microscopically. I slid up his body, sweeping his stomach and chest with my breasts until I was close enough to kiss him on the mouth.

Same old mouth. Same old taste. And always the best kisser. I pushed away the thought that bubbled under the surface. Zombie mouth. Zombie biter. But not yet. We still had a few more hours of being Emma and Galen. He responded to my kiss with a less familiar urgency. His usual languid exploration of my mouth was replaced with a pushing, searching tongue and as I slipped my tongue between his lips, he sucked hard and his back arched up so he could press himself against the length of my body.

I ran my hands up and down his torso, feeling the swell of his erection against me. God, how I loved this man’s cock. I reached my hand down to it and he let out an appreciative moan as I enveloped it with my fingers. It was fully erect, hard as a glass dildo beneath its covering of soft skin. I ran my index finger up and down the shaft and he bucked underneath me. Then I stretched down to cup his balls, holding them as gently as bird’s eggs, working them a little against each other while I whispered in his ear. He turned his head and caught my earlobe with his teeth, nibbling gently until I giggled and pulled away.

I shuffled back down the bed until I was in a position to take his cock in my mouth. But before I sucked it in, I showered it with a flurry of little kisses, up and down, still holding his balls but now tugging a little. Galen groaned and his cock grew hot, the head pulsing under the touch of my lips. I pushed the tip of my tongue out between them and let it make contact with the soft skin at the apex of the head. I felt the tiny slit and tasted the salty pre-cum that leaked out of it and then I opened my lips and drew him into the warm cavern of my mouth.

My hand moved up from his balls to grip the base of his shaft, angling his cock so he could push deeper into my mouth. I started to slide up and down, letting him work in and out, my wet lips slipping across his skin trailed by the hard scrape of my teeth. Galen moaned and I tightened my hand around him, working my mouth harder, massaging with tongue, sucking, blowing, biting. My other hand raked through his chest hairs in search of a nipple and when I found it, I pinched hard, making him yelp and pull against the restraints.

He was almost ready to come but I wanted more. I needed to feel Galen inside me one last time and I knew we wouldn’t have time for a second attempt. With a feeling of profound sadness I raised my head to let his cock fall free from my mouth.

“Babe?” he said. “Don’t stop…”

Buy Links:
Amazon
Amazon UKSmashwords
Barnes & Noble
Kobo

Tamsin Flowers loves to write light-hearted erotica, often with a twist in the tail/tale and a sense of fun. In the words of one reviewer, ‘Ms Flowers has a way of describing sexual tension that forces itself upon your own body.’ Her stories have appeared in a wide variety of anthologies , for publishers including Cleis Press, Xcite Books and Go Deeper Press. She is now graduating to novellas with the intention of penning her magnum opus in the very near future. In the meantime, like most erotica writers, she finds herself working on at least ten stories at once: while she figures out whose leg belongs in which story, you can find out more about her at Tamsin’s Superotica or Tamsin Flowers.

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I’m In Love With A Cover

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Last week, I got wind of the awesome news that my very first edited anthology (there’s a phrase you might as well get used to hearing), Cant’ Get Enough is now available for pre-order on Amazon. I don’t know how I wasn’t out there searching (read stalking) myself, but I guess I figured with a Summer 2014 release date, it would be too early. But no, honey, here it is.

And you, of course, have feasted your eyes on the lusciousness above that is the cover for the anthology. I may be just a tad biased, but I think that Cleis hit it out of the park with this one. The thinly veiled nakedness of bodies behind a shower curtain, the steam from the heat, the sense of urgency of a couple getting it on during shower time. I think it so adequately speaks to the theme of this anthology and does wonderfully in hitting home the point I was trying to make with this collection. On its Amazon page is also a blurb, but here it is for your convenience and such:

Veteran erotica author and first-time editor Tenille Brown has collected stories for Can’t Get Enough that highlight the essence of insatiable desire. With contributions from familiar names like Rachel Kramer Bussel, Jacqueline Applebee, and Giselle Renarde, along with newer voices like Monica Corwin and Beatrix Ellroy, this is a book full of diverse and dynamic characters who are bold and daring and even some who are surprisingly subtle. The authors here knock the Can’t Get Enough theme right out of the park with stories that will leave readers as breathless as the characters they’re reading about, dying for more.

Keep checking back here as I will soon be posting the introduction from the book and the sizzling table of contents.

Instinct

tummy

This was a telling tweet. But I sent it out as I send most tweets, light heartedly, once it’s gone, it’s forgotten. Yes, it had started with a tummy ache, which with kids, is just another day at the office for a parent. I rubbed it, hugged him to make it all better and watched him sleep.

Then he couldn’t make it through the day in school the next day, and began to lose his appetite. And when the low grade fever appeared I figured was a stomach big than would just have to run his course.

But my boy who normally runs everywhere he goes couldn’t stand up straight. He walked hunched over and moaned in pain. He lay in my bed while I put up groceries, and then he let out a scream I will never forget. I dropped everything and drove him to the first hospital I could find, his twin sister in tow.

After six hours of labs, scans and tests, he was diagnosed with the one thing that I had pushed to the back oft mind as one of my outrageous hypochondriacal fears. It was his appendix, and it was ruptured.

It was the first time I felt the weight of being away from family and friends. The first time that I realized that my mom was now more than three hours away as opposed to just around the corner.

But mostly I realized that for two days I had dismissed my son’s pain as something far less serious than it was.

Not that I or anyone could have predicted or prevented it, but still, there’s that old mommy guilt. There’s the what ifs and the woulda, coulda, shouldas.

So today here we are, an emergency surgery later, on day six at the Children’s Hospital. He’s much better than he was before, but not well enough to go home.

I’m trying to make the best of it. Caring for him and reading and writing and keeping my fingers crossed that I can take him home soon.

And I guess that’s it. All I can say and all I can do. I appreciate the well wishes.