There are many things writers in all sorts of genres have in common, but there some things that apply specially to erotic romance and erotica writers. Based off of my own experience, I've put together this little list...
Googling from the shadows...oh, the things your computer knows...
-You kind of hope that after you die, someone who loves you will toss your computer into the sea (where it will hopefully be swallowed by a shark and corroded by its stomach acid) so that no one will ever know all the things you googled in the name of research.
-You sort your fan mail between regular correspondence and messages soliciting sex and/or expostulating about your secret wanton, unfulfilled sexual desires (as imagined by the person writing the message).
-When people look over your shoulder at your computer screen, they either walk away giggling or very quiet with a funny look on their face.
-Instead of setting word count goals for yourself during your daily writing, you promise yourself things like ‘I will not stop writing until penetration occurs’ (because really, after you get to that point, why not just finish the scene?).
-You have a separate personal facebook account where you’re friends with anyone you ever went to church with, and you’re careful to keep it separated from your writing one. Except for that one time when you accidentally posted a link to a sexy icing-play excerpt (complete with mantitty book cover) to the wrong account. Oops. Fortunately that happened on a Sunday morning, so hopefully they were all too busy at church to see it.
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Anyone have anything to add to this list? Or, what about, 'You might be an erotic romance reader if...' That could be good too. ;)
Vampire. It was an old word from even older legends, some ancient superstition she couldn’t quite bring herself to associate with the breathtakingly sensual man who was holding her so close, practically pleading with her to think him a monster. Feeling vaguely dazed, she said the first thing that came to mind. “If I’d thought them real, I would have imagined them much more frightening.”
He laughed, breathily and humorlessly. “Most find me adequately frightening.”
I'm going to be up to my elbows in those ingredients in a few minutes, so I thought I'd give my weekly Wednesday blog post a holiday theme. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, after all. So before I knock out those pies and casseroles so I can dedicate my oven to the turkey tomorrow, here are a few things I'm grateful for as a romance writer.
Free stock images for one, so this post doesn't have to look totally boring.
- Readers (of course!). Especially the ultra-cool ones that send me nice e-mails.
- My family. Another given, probably, but how could I not list that when they dole out such sage advice as (this is from my grandfather): "Keep writing those sexy novels. Those are what women like to buy." I'm not one of those closet erotic romance writers, so I don't have to fabricate any stories to tell my family about how I've been spending my time - that's something to be grateful for, as I need my creativity and brain-power for my books.
- My kindle. Oh, I remember those olden days of 2010, back when I had to trek to the book store and spend an eternity hoping to stumble blindly across an appealing book, and then dole out like $16 for something I could finish in two days. Those days were lame. I'm completely in love with my kindle.
What about you? What's something you appreciate? :)
Elsie trembled. He could surely feel the tremors in her arms, but there was nothing she could do to stop them. She should be glad she’d managed to remain standing in the wake of his confession. She felt as if she’d been slammed into by a savage, cresting wave. Every secret part of her, every little nook in her heart she’d dared to fill with dreams of Damon, was rejoicing. The rest of her was too stunned to do anything besides shake.
Well, does it? Here's an interesting statistic I scrounged around the internet to find:
-Women who read romance novels make love with their partners 74% more often than women who don't. (Source: Psychology Today)
Why? Carol Rinkleib Ellison, PhD, psychologist and author ofWomen's Sexualities, says: "[Reading romance novels] can help women shift into their "sex self" from their role as mother, wife, employer, or employee."
Maria Veloso, author of Midwinter Turns to Spring, has some more to say about this. "In most cases, a woman’s libido is directly linked to emotions that revolve around romance and love. These emotions are a connected set of processes that involve physiological changes, such as heart rate, blood pressure and hormones circulating throughout the body—and these comprise the cornerstones of a woman’s sexual drive. Therefore, when a woman’s emotions are stirred by a romance novel, that’s a recipe for an emotional aphrodisiac."
So what does this mean? I guess I could change my slogan from 'Author of Red-Hot Romance' to 'Brewer of Emotional Aphrodisiacs'. LOL OK, maybe not - that sounds too much like something out of some weird, erotic piece of Harry Potter fanfiction. But I thought that statistic was interesting.
* Please note: The contest has ended. Thank you, everyone who participated! And congrats to winners Jamie, Tina and Elise. :) *
Demon of Mine
He’s the mysterious heir to an industrial empire.
She’s a dying housemaid.
The secrets that lie between them refuse to be kept forever.
Elsie always considered her attraction to Damon ‘Demon’ Remington to be a guilty pleasure, but when a strange illness begins to crumble the comfortable life she’s built in the Remingtons’ shadow, her future is threatened, along with her beliefs about her tragic past. Accused of a blue-blooded murder, Damon is both London’s most notorious devil and the guardian angel from Elsie’s childhood. Her testimony may save him from being convicted…if she can bring herself to confess that she hid in his bedroom on the night of the crime and why. His preternatural secret can save her from the sickness that’s consuming her, but salvation comes at a price – the sacrifice of her humanity, and a marriage that will last for the rest of their immortal lives.
Book 1 in the Remington Vampires Series.
Excerpt:
Elsie sat on the stone bench, agreeably clutching Mrs. Hughes’ proffered arm despite the fact that she didn’t really need it. “Thank you, Mrs. Hughes.” She couldn’t wait for the woman to be gone so she could sit in privacy, basking in the tempered early morning sunshine and memories of her time among the rose bushes the night before. She could have spent an eternity pondering that kiss, though she still found it difficult to believe it had really happened. It had been much more real than any dream though – the softness of Damon’s lips, the silky glide of his tongue against hers... Her imagination never would have been able to duplicate the perfection if she hadn’t experienced it in reality. Just thinking about it brought her breath up short. Would she ever feel such ecstasy again?
She told herself not to be greedy. Who knew if Damon would approach her again; if he regretted what he’d done the night before or if he thought about it now, just as she did? She would cherish the memory for the rest of her life – however short that might prove to be – but she wouldn’t get her hopes up. She’d learned her lesson well from Lord Wilkes. Not that Damon was of the same shoddy caliber as that cad, but she could hardly expect a Remington to truly fall for an ailing maidservant.
“Your tea.”
Elsie turned toward the sound of a slightly impatient voice, startled out of her thoughts of Damon. The maid had approached from the murky fields of Elsie’s peripheral vision, and she hadn’t noticed her. She squinted now at the tray-bearing figure, noting mousy locks that protruded from beneath a mobcap. The girl sounded young, and her slender, almost boyish figure supported the supposition. “Thank you,” Elsie said, taking the smooth polished-wood tray and balancing it on her lap. Having personally served tea a thousand times over, Elsie easily navigated the tray by feel. She clutched a halfway filled cup and let its warmth seep into her fingers as she waited for the maid to stop staring at her and leave.
“Wish I could spend the morning in the garden staring ’round at the rosebushes and sipping tea,” the girl said, her tone half wistful and half resentful.
Elsie’s cheeks heated. “I find it difficult to enjoy the sight of the blossoms with my vision so afflicted,” she said tersely, “but yes, they smell lovely.”
The girl made a small sound in the back of her throat that might have meant anything and turned in a flurry of skirts. Elsie listened to the soft sound of her retreating footsteps with relief.
What seemed at least half an hour passed before another voice interrupted her solitude. “Elsie.”
She recognized the velvety tone at once. Her heart began to beat in double time as she clutched her teacup as tightly as she dared. “Yes?” Her reply was little more than a gasp.
“How do you fare this morning?” Damon asked from close behind her, touching her shoulder ever so lightly.
She stifled a sigh, knowing he couldn’t possibly realize how the little bit of contact affected her. He’d probably touched her out of courtesy for her impaired vision, to let her know where he stood. The gesture shouldn’t have set her heart racing, but it had. “My vision was somewhat improved when I awoke. I can see now out of both my eyes, though everything appears blurred to me.” She waited for him to remove his hand from her shoulder.
He kept it there, exerting a gentle pressure with the tips of his fingers. “I am glad to hear of your improvement.” He didn’t sound glad. There was a note of weariness that rang in the deeper pitch of his voice. Was he tired? There was no question that he had a habit of staying up late every night. Perhaps this was an early morning for him. Had he risen just to speak with her?
She didn’t let herself consider it. That sort of idle speculation would only set her up for disappointment. Besides, it was foolish. Of course he hadn’t. The Remington heir would not rise early just to converse with a maidservant.
He bent low, his smooth jaw brushing her cheek. The intimacy of the gesture sent fresh heat rushing through Elsie as she wrestled with the realization that his touch had strayed irrefutably beyond the bounds of deference to her handicap. She hoped to God that they were alone in the garden. If one of the maids saw this… But she couldn’t think of that, not while Damon’s lips brushed her ear, causing the blood to sing in her veins and her nipples to tighten instantly beneath her dress. “Can you meet me here again tonight?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered, without pausing to weigh the difficulties. Whatever it took, she’d be here.
“I think I can help you,” he whispered. “Your illness… I think I have a solution. Meet me here at half-past midnight and I’ll explain. Will that be late enough for you to escape undetected?”
She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat and nodded.
“I look forward to seeing you then.” He straightened, withdrew his touch and strode away, leaving Elsie alone with a feeling of profound sadness. What could he possibly do to help – what could he possibly know that the physician didn’t? She would gladly meet him, but she did not look forward to crushing whatever hope he’d found for her in the night.
Wanna know exactly what happened the night before? Read the excerpt here at Elise Marion's blog. :)
“I love you too,” she said breathlessly, “though for seven years I tried to convince myself that I did not.” Had she ever truly believed that her feelings for Damon were only mere infatuation? She knew now that had been a lie she’d told herself in hopes of sparing her own feelings. Unrequited love was torture; a sort of slow death of the heart she hadn’t wished to subject herself to. But as a girl, she’d loved Damon for saving her from an orphan’s dismal life, and deep down, she’d never stopped. Now, she loved him as her husband.
Thanks for checking out my Sunday six. :) I hope you'll stop by again tomorrow for the giveaway I'm having in celebration of the release of Demon of Mine. I'll be giving away some cool 'Regency Tea Party' themed prizes, and of course, some books too!
There are only a few days left before the release of Demon of Mine, so I thought I'd use this Wednesday's blog post to give you a sneak peek at the story. :) Here's an excerpt from early in the book:
Taking a deep breath and using a corner of her apron to wipe the last traces of tears from her eyes, Elsie slid open the hidden panel and stepped out into the corridor.
She wasn’t alone. Footsteps so soft she barely heard them sounded just as she emerged into view, her slippers silent against the long runner rug that she labored to beat clean every Saturday. She made to step back into the obscurity of the secret passage, but she was too late – the panel had already closed behind her. A man rounded the corner, tall, slim and heart-wrenchingly handsome.
Damon. Her heart beat his name frantically. Da-mon. Da-mon. Da-mon. Only her heart had the audacity to call him by his Christian name. “Sir,” she said, dipping into a curtsy that was rendered less than graceful by her wobbly knees, as if the display of formality would make up for her highly personal feelings.
He paused in front of her, and when she dared to look up at him, he met her eyes. They were just as stunning as they had been seven years ago when she’d first looked into them, only now they belonged to a man instead of a sixteen year-old boy. My God. She could have lost herself in those dark pools, could have stared forever…
“I’m looking for someone,” he said, his voice deliciously low and smooth. If she’d heard it coming from any other man’s lips, she would have thought he was planning seduction. But Damon always spoke that way. It was a part of his natural perfection, his undeniable appeal. How in the bloody world did Jenny keep from gaping at him when he passed by? It was nearly as if she wasn’t a woman at all.
“Who, sir?” Elsie finished her curtsy, pleased to find her voice relatively steady.
“A housemaid called Elsie. Do you know where I might find her?” His dark eyes flickered as his gaze traveled from her head to her toes.
Elsie tried to ignore the wave of heat that swept over her along with his gaze. “That’s me, sir. I’m Elsie.”
He looked her up and down again, and a definite gleam passed through his eyes. “Indeed?”
She willed her legs to support her. The last thing she needed was to collapse at his feet. After all, she’d just promised herself she wouldn’t do that. And besides, she’d look like a fool. “Indeed, sir. At your service.” She managed to perform another shaky curtsy without falling over.
“Come with me then. My mother says you’re to spend some time at the country estate. She feels the fresh air may do you some good.” He just barely raised an eyebrow at her, and the sight of it reminded Elsie instantly of his mother. How much had she told her son about Elsie’s illness? Even if her interactions with him would be limited to the everyday inanities that might pass between a master and a servant, she’d rather he didn’t think of her as a feeble invalid. “She told me you used to be one of her best servants before your health declined,” he continued in his sensuously silky voice. “She hopes your health will improve at Hertfordshire so that you may return here soon.”
Return. Of course she would return. But right now, it was difficult to think of anything other than the fact that she’d be admiring Damon from perhaps not so far away for some time.
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And don't forget to stop by here on Monday, when I'll be giving out themed prizes to random commenters to celebrate the release of Demon of Mine. :)
“You said you were prepared to handle me if I burst into hysterics. What would you have done?”
He answered without hesitation. “I would have silenced you with a kiss. A thousand of them if I'd had to. And if that had failed to calm you, I would have made love to you, to show you that I’m not just a demon, but a man, too.”
I'm excited to finally announce the official release date for Demon of Mine - November 14th! Read on for more info on the book and, of course, the super-awesome release party I'll be having right here on my blog.
He's the mysterious heir to an industrial empire.
She's a dying housemaid.
The secrets that lie between them refuse to be kept forever.
Elsie always considered her attraction to Damon ‘Demon’ Remington to be a guilty pleasure, but when a strange illness begins to crumble the comfortable life she’s built in the Remingtons' shadow, her future is threatened, along with her beliefs about her tragic past. Accused of a blue-blooded murder, Damon is both London’s most notorious devil and the guardian-angel from Elsie’s childhood. Her testimony may save him from being convicted…if she can bring herself to confess that she hid in his bedroom on the night of the crime and why. His preternatural secret can save her from the sickness that’s consuming her, but salvation comes at a price – the sacrifice of her humanity, and a marriage that will last for the rest of their immortal lives.
Demon of Mine is a full-length erotic romance Regency vampire novel.
And now, consider this your official invitation to the party...
Please be sure to stop by here on the 14th, and feel free to tell your friends. Prizes - seriously awesome, as promised - will be given out to random guests. I think I'll keep the exact nature of the awesome items in question secret a little while longer, but I will say this - they're tea party themed!
