Please Welcome Em Woods, who brings us a hot excerpt from her latest release, Clandestine Classic A Christmas Carol

Hey there Em... welcome back!

*Looks around Lee's place* I haven't been here in a while...I like what you've done with the place. 

I really do appreciate you having me over to chat about A Christmas Carol, my release coming out tomorrow. I can hardly believe that. It seems like such a whirlwind to get it done and have my writing blend in with Dickens's style. But then, Lee, you know that. You've listened to me every step of the way! LOL

*waves at our visitors* How is everyone doing today? Curious about my newest release? Let me tell you, I was so excited to get a chance to fill in dear ol' Ebenezer Scrooge's love life! I mean, people aren't mean like that just for the sake of being foul, right? So I was thrilled to dive into his reasons for being like that, and to give him a happily ever after.

I've redeemed Marley (no soul left behind...lol), and given Scrooge his mate in Alex. I've given you a deeper taste of Scrooge's remorse and a closer look at his attempt to be "normal" in a day and age when being homosexual shunned a man at the least and imprisoned him at its worst.

Are you ready for a small excerpt of A Christmas Carol? Make sure no one is looking over your shoulder... *wink*

Here is an exclusive excerpt just for you:

“Settle, boy. This is not to show who is in control. This is to show how we should have been. What my dreams held. What our life together should have held.”

He was unsure of what that meant, and that did not sit well at all with Scrooge. Soft caresses were well and good, but a hard fucking had better follow quickly. Marley chuckled behind him. A sharp sting of a slap lit Scrooge’s hip with fire. “I can hear your thoughts so clearly, like my own, Eb. You’ll not be left wanting. Not this time.”

Another slap to Ebenezer’s thigh narrowed his attention to his lover, a long-dormant need flaring to life with each blow to his skin, with each whispered vow of love eternal, with each promise of care.

“Your arse always presented well, Eb. Blushing and hot, needy.”

Scrooge clenched his fists in the linens, holding back the moan crawling up his throat. Silence was the rule. Servants, even the best of the lot, could not be trusted with the secrets of the bedchamber. Not that Scrooge employed any other than one cook and one maid, neither of whom would be working that day.

“Oil?”

“In the drawer.” Scrooge’s voice was not his own, surely. He had never heard it sound so hoarse.

The scrape of wood was harsh to Scrooge’s ears, then cold oil slid down the crack of his arse, followed by impatient fingers working around, in, around, until Ebenezer’s hole eased for the touch. “Are you ready, Eb?”

Another turn of events, this question, but Marley had promised care, and care he was giving, driving Scrooge out of his mind with the impossibility of it. Fingers disappeared, replaced promptly with the spongy tip of Marley’s cock, pushing slowly into Scrooge’s arse. So full, near bursting with the fullness of it, Scrooge moaned and sank back on his haunches, lodging the thick erection deeper inside him. His skin burned where Marley’s fingers dug into his hips, holding him steady as he began to thrust, sweat rapidly slicking his body.

The slap of Marley’s thighs against Scrooge’s arse rang loud through the bedchamber, their laboured breathing combining to create a harmony that fuelled Scrooge’s lust. He struggled under Marley’s hold, revelling in the tightening of his grip, the feel of bruises rising.

Marley’s hips snapped faster, pummelling Scrooge with fierce thrusts, then, as Scrooge cried out with his release, fearless of who might hear, Marley pulled him roughly onto his cock, pulses of seed filling Scrooge’s passage. Marley collapsed atop Scrooge, then eased from inside before rolling to lay on the mattress beside him.

Scrooge remained with his hands clenched in the bed sheets, drawing deep breath after deep breath, trying to regain his composure as his body floated on soft wings back to reality. “Do we have the night?”

“Only a few moments more.” Marley braced one hand under his head, looking at Scrooge. “I loved you, Eb.”

Blurb:

Love at first sight is a beautiful thing, but sometimes, true love waits a lifetime to shine...and then needs a little help from the Three Ghosts of Christmas.

As a young man, Ebenezer Scrooge felt the sharp pain of loss and resolved to protect his heart from all others, taking solace in his gold and silver. Years of discarding his own emotions, and those of anyone around him, has turned Scrooge cold.

When deceased lover and partner Jacob Marley pays miserly Scrooge a late night visit, pride and disbelief buoy Scrooge's courage. As the fabled Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet-to-Come arrive to show Scrooge the error of his ways, they also give him brief glimpses of a love so strong it has stood the test of time.

In an inspiring tale of change, a deep-seated need flares to life, leaving Scrooge without a doubt that love and family are what really matter at Christmas

Link to buy:
This book will be available December 3rd, 2012 at http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1940

You can visit Em Woods at the following links:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4347554.Em_Woods
http://authoremwoods.com/
https://www.facebook.com/emwoodsauthor

Story Orgy Presents: Christmas Flashes #1 By Design

Good morning Story Orgy readers! Hope you're having a fantastic day. Got your coffee? We've got just a few announcements to share today before we get started with our Holiday stories...

First, the delightful Em Woods and I are touring with Breathless Press this week in honor of our new releases, Willow and Choices. Stop by and comment each day and you'll have a chance to win a great prize! 

Here are the blog stops

November 26:  The Menagerie Authors

November 27:  Reviews by Molly

November 28:  Wicked Readings By Tawania

November 29:  Wickedly Wanton Tales

November 30:  Wickedly Sexy Writers

See You there! 

Second, Em has a new release coming up real quick on December 3rd- this is a fabulous sexy re-telling of Dicken's holiday classic, A Christmas Carol. 

You can get more holiday cheer from the Story Orgy crew in And The Prompt Is: Holiday Edition 

now only 2.99 at All Romance E-books and Amazon! 

Merry Christmas to Dianne Hartsock who gifted me with the following prompt: 

Person: firefighter; Place: Santa's Workshop; Thing: sugar cookies

By Design

copyright Nov. 2012 by Lee Brazil 

It smelled like vanilla, and sweetness, like pine, smoke and fire. Not the bad kind of smoke that was tinged with fear, but the soft mellow soothing kind that meant a fire in the fireplace and smiling faces. It smelled like home, but that was impossible, because Kyle Martin Jacobs didn't have a home any more. Not since the fire...the bad kind that smelled like destruction and broken dreams and hate.

Now, he had a studio apartment that was close to the station house instead of a three bedroom stucco covered ranch style home in a nice neighborhood. That house had been blocks from Santa's Workshop, where Aiden designed toys for children. Kyle didn't need any more than the studio now, because the fire had taken everything, his clothes, his furniture, his future. Aiden.

"Oh, God." Kyle opened his eyes and jumped from the futon, clutching at the object that nearly fell from the battered thrift shop coffee table as he did. What the fuck was it that he'd left there? Some kind of dinner plate? But he didn't eat any dinner, he never ate away from the station-house where Chief Nick badgered him into join the other firefighters at the table for every meal. Or had he just forgotten warming a plate of leftovers? The chief frequently forced a plate into his hands when the starving team left any food on the table.

His eyes opened wide and he stared at the plate, fingers shaking. "It can't be!"

"It is, though, Kyle."

And it was...a green cellophane wrapped china plate, with tiny boughs of holly bedecked with minuscule red berries at twelve and three, six and nine. A plate full of still warm, red sugar sprinkled cookies that would melt in his mouth if he took just one bite.

A plate that should have shattered in the fire, cookies he couldn't bake, cellophane he'd never have had the patience to wrap so neatly. It was a plate of holiday cookies exactly like the ones Aiden baked to hand out to their friends every year on December first, when they had their annual holiday party and back yard barbecue.

Which they weren't having this year, because there was no backyard left to barbecue in, and no Aiden left to bake.

"It's a fucking dream asshole." He muttered. Then I don't want to wake up. Because if in his dreams he got cookies Aiden baked instead of fiery nightmares of exploding gas grills, then he could sleep forever.

"No, it's not."

He stopped pretending that he couldn't really hear the voice and searched the tiny apartment. "Who are you?"

"Oh come, now, Kyle. You know me."

"I don't." He shook his head, set the plate down and peered into the gloom. There wasn't anywhere for someone to hide. Unless...Silently, Kyle crossed to the bathroom door. He swung the door open and flicked the light switch. It responded with a dubious burst of light followed immediately by a faint buzz and a telling pop before casting the room back into gloom. The illumination lasted just long enough to highlight the vast emptiness of the tiny space. A single towel slung haphazardly over the shower door, a scarcely dented tube of toothpaste, a solitary white toothbrush and a black comb.  No lurking figure of humanity stopped by on its way home form work to leave him cookies.

"Quit fucking around. Come on out." Had to be one of the guys from the station come to coax him back to the North Pole Fire Station House for the annual celebration of the season before the frantic rush of holiday madness. "I’m sorry I didn't stay for the damn pre-Christmas party, okay? It's just that this is hard..."

"I know it is baby."

Baby. He hadn't been called baby in exactly a year. Only one man ever called him baby. "Aiden?" Kyle crumpled down on the floor, the thin worn carpet received him with an indignant burst of musty stale dust particles, and he wrapped his arms around his knees and cried.

"Shhh." It could have been the brush of wind against the lone apartment window. It could have been the furnace shushing into action to warm the chilly little room. It couldn't have smelled like peppermint schnapps and hot chocolate, and Aiden's musky man scent.

But it did. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks, and he rubbed them harshly against the thick coarse fabric of his uniform pants. "God, Aiden, I miss you so much."

A soft tentative hand rubbed between his shoulder blades, hesitated briefly then twined in the long curls that fell down his back. He hadn't cut his hair since Aiden left, and it was longer than regulation allowed. The Chief hadn't given him any grief about cutting it, though, and so he just let it go, because Aiden had liked this, running his fingers through it, tangling the coils around his fingers, and tugging at it to get his attention. Like now.

"Fuck. Aiden?" He jerked upright, and swiveled his head to see who touched him, because no doubt that was a physical touch, he could feel the fingers in his hair even now, toy with the long strands, tangling them together.

"Yes, love."

"You left me." He still couldn't see anything, but vague indications of a figure form the corner of his eye, every time he shifted as though to catch a glimpse, the figure wasn't there, but it was real, he could feel Aiden here with him.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes," Unbelievably, a spark of joy lit in his cold, dark heart that hadn't felt warm in all of the previous 364 days since Aiden had left him. "Kiss me?" He begged without shame, though prior to those 364 days of loneliness, he wouldn't have dreamed of begging, or even asking, he'd have just taken Aiden's kiss, as something that was his right, his due.

"Close your eyes then," Aiden's words and a delicate touch on his lids closed his eyes. He squeezed them shut, because even if he was imagining that ominous overtone, it wasn't worth risking any consequence to open them. What if he peeked and Aiden disappeared? What if it was all a dream and opening his eyes chased the dream away?

Soft lips brushed lightly over his, a small familiar weight settled in his lap, forcing his knees down until Aiden straddled him, crushing their groins together. Gasping, Kyle pushed up into that weight, opened his mouth to urge the deepening of that kiss.

The very familiarity of every slick plane of tooth, every surge of tongue sent waves of heat washing through him that overwhelmed his grief, burned away the agony of the last year and replaced with it a burning need, a desire for release so strong he shook with it.

His hands moved of their own accord, tracing familiar muscles, finding buttons and zippers and popping them open, sliding them down, seeking flesh that felt cool to the touch, but soothingly so as he was feverish with want. And still the kiss went on, Aiden's tongue deftly enticing him with little nudges and slow caresses to follow into his mouth, where that heavenly mix of Aiden flavors made him drunk with love and joy and remembrance.

Almost without thought, certainly without consideration of the past year, he brought his cock to bear against the tender opening of Aiden's body without ever opening his eyes, without ever risking awakening.

And while his heart thundered its he's here, he's really here cadence, his hips churned with restless urgency, pushing up as his hands dragged Aiden down, bringing them together over and over as he drowned in bliss and sensation he'd thought lost forever.

And even as orgasm wracked his frame, and Aiden mewled into his mouth, and the scent of semen and sweat overtook the vanilla sugar smell, he kept them closed. Until his breathing steadied and the weight in his lap lightened, and a weary sigh that wasn't his stirred the air.

"It's time, Kyle."

"No. You're here. My eyes are closed. You stay."

"I’m cheating just being here for now, Kyle."

"No." His heart wrenched, but he made his voice firm. In all their years together, he'd never denied Aiden anything. No gift was too expensive, no request too onerous. But this he wouldn't do. "I can't go back to not having you, Aiden. You have to stay."

"You have to let me go. I have a job to do. I cheated, by coming here first, but I only have a short time to do what needs to be done. You'll have to help me."

"Anything, Aiden. I'll do anything for you, just don't leave me again."

"I have to, Kyle."

"It's the North Pole, Aiden! It's magic; you can stay. There has to be a way."

"It's the North Pole, yes, and there is magic. But dead is dead. The only magic in that is that even though I'm gone, I get to keep working to make the world a better place."

"You design toys in heaven?"

Soft chuckles stirred his hair, peppermint breath wafted over his lips. "No. I get to do something even better. I design lives, Kyle. It's my new job, and I love it, just like you love saving lives."

"I couldn't save you." Some firefighter he'd turned out to be. Couldn't even save his own lover from the flames that engulfed him.

"It wasn't meant to be. But I can make that up to you."

"You can make it up to me by staying."

"I can't. I’m out of time. You have to take the cookies down to the third floor, apartment G. He won't answer the door, but you'll know what to do when you get there."

"Why the fuck did you come if you didn't plan to stay?"

"I had to come, even if it was cheating, because I had to say good bye. I didn't get to say good-bye, Kyle. Now, go, he needs you."

"But I need you..." His voice trailed off, because it was too late.

And the weight in his lap was completely gone, and all that lingered of his lover was the scent of peppermint and vanilla, and cum. And then, since the dream was gone anyway, Kyle opened his eyes and stared at his bleak little apartment with eyes accustomed to not seeing, and shuddered in distaste. Had he really lived like this? His gaze fell on the wrapped cookies, and he sighed. He hadn't been able to deny Aiden in life, far be it from him to refuse the man's request in death.

A shower and fresh clothes later, he was surprised by how much brighter everything seemed, how whole he felt. Good-bye was important, he supposed. Maybe after he'd dropped off Aiden's cookies, he'd go back over to the station house and tell Chief Nick that he was sorry for being a pain in the ass the past year. If that went well enough, he might even consider walking on to the workshop, to see the frenzy of toy-making as Aiden's old co-workers got ready for the upcoming holiday.

Check back next week for the conclusion to By Design! 

If you enjoyed my post, check out the other Orgiasts at

Em Woods - http://authoremwoods.com/

Havan Fellows - http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com/

Hank Edwards - http://hankedwardsbooks.com/hankerings

Jade Baiser - http://jade-wetdreams.blogspot.com/

Story Orgy Anthology: And The Prompt Is

In honor of the release of 

And the Prompt Is: Holiday Edition

Story Orgy's first anthology 

Now available 

  

only $1.99! 

Find it at 

Amazon 

or

1 Place for Romance

New Contest: The Park at Sunrise-

Releasing December 2

from 

Breathless Press

The Story Orgy Anthology

featuring

The Park at Sunrise

First they were three, now there are two.  

Can Jason and Morgan make a relationship work without Paul?

For years the three of them had been inseparable, first as friends, then lovers. It's been ten years since they parted for what was supposed to be a year apart to pursue their dreams.   This isn't the reunion they planned then.  It's nine years too late for one thing, and they are one man short for another.

In the years since Paul's death, Morgan hasn't exactly been waiting for Jason to reach out to him.    He's been too busy trying to forget, to move on.  Until Jason sends the right message. Is the painting just an excuse to see his ex again?

Excerpt —

"I see you're dressed for the weather as always, Morgan." Jason's voice was husky, hesitant.

A pair of black knit gloves landing in my lap tipped me over that edge from making a snide remark to throwing an uncalled for hissy fit.

My jaw clenched tightly. Screw breathing deeply. I yanked the cap from my head, pulling long strands of black hair from the band at my neck, and winced at the tiny pain. I flung the cap to the ground in front of us and looked up the black denim clad legs to the black pea coat and beyond. My mouth opened to swear, but no sound came out. The hissy fit drained away to something else entirely. My pulse still raced, but for an entirely different reason.

How fair was that? How fucking fair was it that after ten years apart, my hair showed silvery streaks and my face showed my age, but Jason was still the slender boyish youth of years gone by? Yeah, he'd shaved the dirty blond dreadlocks. Those wire rim glasses were new, but he appeared as youthful and vibrant, untouched by life, alive as he had when we'd all parted years ago to make those sunrise dreams reality. His black jeans had the tell tale smudges of paint, and I'd be willing to bet that underneath those leather driving gloves lurked more paint.

This wasn't the reunion we planned then. It was nine years too late, for one thing. We were one man short for another.

The bench creaked as he perched next to me on the top slat, and instinctively I grabbed his knee to anchor both of us so we wouldn't topple backward. His hand covered mine before I could jerk it away and he refused to relinquish it when I tugged. I gave in with ill grace. Jason’s touch stirred physical responses I’d rather not experience.

Like it? Leave a comment and you could win a copy! Include a way to contact you, though! 

The Park at Sunrise: Excerpt

Just a few more weeks until the release of the Story Orgy Anthology from Breathless Press! 

Can't wait till December 2? 

Ready to read a bit more about it? 

Here's a short excerpt from my story, The Park at Sunrise

"I see you're dressed for the weather as always, Morgan." Jason's voice was husky, hesitant.

A pair of black knit gloves landing in my lap tipped me over that edge from making a snide remark to throwing an uncalled for hissy fit.

My jaw clenched tightly. Screw breathing deeply. I yanked the cap from my head, pulling long strands of black hair from the band at my neck, and winced at the tiny pain. I flung the cap to the ground in front of us and looked up the black denim clad legs to the black pea coat and beyond. My mouth opened to swear, but no sound came out. The hissy fit drained away to something else entirely. My pulse still raced, but for an entirely different reason.

How fair was that? How fucking fair was it that after ten years apart, my hair showed silvery streaks and my face showed my age, but Jason was still the slender boyish youth of years gone by? Yeah, he'd shaved the dirty blond dreadlocks. Those wire rim glasses were new, but he appeared as youthful and vibrant, untouched by life, alive as he had when we'd all parted years ago to make those sunrise dreams reality. His black jeans had the tell tale smudges of paint, and I'd be willing to bet that underneath those leather driving gloves lurked more paint.

This wasn't the reunion we planned then. It was nine years too late, for one thing. We were one man short for another.

The bench creaked as he perched next to me on the top slat, and instinctively I grabbed his knee to anchor both of us so we wouldn't topple backward. His hand covered mine before I could jerk it away and he refused to relinquish it when I tugged. I gave in with ill grace. Jason’s touch stirred physical responses I’d rather not experience.

The Park at Sunrise: Blurb

It's getting close to the release date for the Story Orgy Anthology from Breathless Press!  

My story The Park at Sunrise is featured in this anthology. 

Here's a bit more of what it's about:

Blurb

First they were three, now there are two.  

Can Jason and Morgan make a relationship work without Paul?

For years the three of them had been inseparable, first as friends, then lovers. It's been ten years since they parted for what was supposed to be a year apart to pursue their dreams.   This isn't the reunion they planned then.  It's nine years too late for one thing, and they are one man short for another.

In the years since Paul's death, Morgan hasn't exactly been waiting for Jason to reach out to him.    He's been too busy trying to forget, to move on.  Until Jason sends the right message. Is the painting just an excuse to see his ex again? 

Story Orgy Talks: Part 3

Story Orgy Talks Smack... I mean SMEX

Y'all are not going to believe this, but a year ago I had no idea what smex was.  *nods vigorously* Because I am perennially naïve and apparently oblivious to half the shit that happens in the world around me.  *shrugs* Whatever.  I have David Bowie, Tom Petty and tequila.

Then I found Story Orgy and Em and Havan * waves at Muse and Goddess lounging on the sofa* Who have enlightened me to many things I never knew about before. Some of which will be covered in this interrogation. *strolls over to join my Muse on the sofa*

I baked. (brownies and chocolate chip cookies).  I bought wine.  I even lit candles and a fire in the fireplace.  Okay- I might have done that so no one could see me blushing, but still, it makes for a nice cozy atmosphere, anyway? Right?

So we've got drinks, we've got snacks, we just need Hank and JR to quit wrestling over the remote.  (Never should have told them Glee and Walking Dead are on Netflix)

Ahh... there now, Jade has taken care of the issue for us with some lovely artwork she provided. J   We're ready. 

Keep in mind- these questions are only the third set – we have more for you next week at Hank's place! 

1. How many of you act out your smex scenes (whether with your head or with someone else's) and how does that help you in writing them?  *eyes them all*  and be honest!  Hehe 

Lee: Who wrote these questions? Oh, that's right. We did.  Well, if we're going to talk things that make me blush, then I'm going to need tequila and David Bowie. *sips tequila, cranks up Lady Stardust*  Okay what was that? I don't act out my sex scenes.  I do try to visualize it- you know to see if it works. .

Em: I try to see the scene in my head and let it play out. Half the time I'm typing away with my eyes closed just to keep the details lingering. *eyes my follow orgiasts* But if anyone's volunteering... *wink*

JR: I think about all kinds of things: personal experiences, porno scenes, porno mag articles, conversations. All these things filter through my head like the news ticker for Wall Street. 

Hank: A lot of times my smex scenes might come from a mix of porn scenes (yeah, my partner and I watch it!), or just the feeling I get from the characters, like how I expect them to enjoy it. I have tried a few out with my partner, of course, and that's a lot of the fun!

Havan: Hey! This is my question…do I have to answer this one? *heads desk* Fine…fine I'll answer it…*takes a fortifying breathe*…Well…considering I happen to not have the right bits and pieces to act out the sex scenes I write with my M/M Story Orgy prompts—I would have to answer this by saying no (hey! we aren't talking toys here lol)—but I can run them through my mind with my eyes closed and see if they're plausible. Oh—and I can call a select few male friends who laugh while I blunder through trying to ask them if the sex scene is … well … sexy and/or doable. *face palm* Now if we were talking about my M/F erotica…

 

2. What is the oddest thing you've found while researching for a smex scene?

Lee: Well, I found out  some peopel name their toys.  At first, I didn't believe it.  And yet... I confirmed this with my lovely muse and the Goddess, who is the final authority.  They concurred that my research was correct. Despite that information, I refused to name Arden Gray's vibrator in Giving Up.  Lord, it was bad enough I had to type the word pussy. 

Em: You know, there just isn't anything that surprises me anymore. But I can remember my naivety fleeing into the night, screaming 'eewww' when I came across water play. I know there are people who dig that...but...well, good for them. LOL.

JR: Oohh my o.O! So many, so much, so...*sigh* - I would have to say that the article I read about deformed sex organs popped up in my research one time. Jeez! Crazy...that's all I'm gonna say about that... C.R.A.Z.Y. *smh* 

Hank: Scat play is just … yeah, that's not right. And sounding makes me cringe.

Havan: Okay – while I was researching for super-de-duper prompts to give to the Goddess I happened to come across a sex toy store (oh yeah, halo cock ring baby—remember that one? hehe)…and well—it turns out that they had certain things in stock with my name on them—except spelled with an 'e' instead of the second 'a'. It's called a 'Haven pocket p----'…um…yeah I'm not saying that word on my muse's blog *heads desk*. But I hope you got the gist—it had some spectacular features: an extra long ribbed love tunnel and a little packet of lube too! Yeah—TMI?

Oh-kay, not sure if that is odd but it did stick in my mind—well halibut if used properly it probably stuck other places too but—ewwww *heads desk again*. And the moral of this segment? Always clean your toys properly…*looks around for that darn bottle of tequila*

3. What's the most difficult aspect of crafting a smexy scene? 

Lee: I find that the most difficult aspect of crafting a sex scene is to incorporate the correct degree of feeling.  I mean emotion.  A sex scene isn't always about emotions – sometimes it's just about lust, and I have to be careful to distinguish between them.

Em: What's the most difficult aspect of crafting a smexy scene?

Variation. Just like a person's sex life can get stale...so can a writer's fictional one. I try to keep it different for each couple. It is easy to fall into a routine of mechanics but an author has to remember to keep their lovelives spicy too!

JR: The most difficult part of writing smex scenes for me is that my brain moves faster than my fingers. I can't get all my moves onto the page fast enough. Then I have to go back and mentally have sex all over again. And it's never the same *heads desk*.

Hank: You have to be in the right mind set to do it. Just like you have to be in the mood to have sex, you have to be in the mood to WRITE ABOUT people have sex. 

Havan: This may come as a shock to some of you but I tend to be a bit gabby … no—not grabby, well yeah that too but right now we're talking about my wordiness not touchiness. So it seems like my characters never really want to get down and dirty right out of the gate … no—they want to wine and dine and usually fight too before they even think about getting down to business. And when they do get down to business—they're normally talking about the business they're getting down to instead of doing it!!!!

Personally, I can't wait until I start writing my Djinn Shan's story—you just know he's gonna be a slut puppy! *face palm while giggling*

4. What expression ("oh yeah" or "oh my God") do you think has been overused in smex scenes and what are you doing about it?

Lee: "Fuck yeah".  I hate reading that, especially if it's used more than once in a scene.  It's like, "Hey, David Bowie is in town and I got tickets, you wanna go?" "Fuck yeah!"  It might be realistic,  but I don't like it.

What am I doing about it? I hope I'm not using it.  That's about all I intend to do about it.

Em: "Oh God" .... and I try like crazy to not use it!!

JR: I don't know about everyone else, but my overused expression is "Unngh!" And you ask what I'm doing about it? Pffft...I make my boys hit that ass even harder...that's what! :P

Hank: "Fuck me" is pretty standard, or "Fuck yeah," or "Oh god." I try to capture the little sounds of two people together. The gasps and moans, the breathing, the expressions and kissing. Short sentences are good: "Okay?" "Yeah." "Good?" "Really good."

Havan: I never liked the "Oh my God" during sex … dudes—your fornicating—unless you don't know what you're doing chances are you don't need him at that moment … learn the name of the guy you're with and start shouting that … let God do his own thing. Geez—I gotta think he's probably the busy type. What am I doing about it? Honestly, I won't say I never use the OMG while my boys are grinding … but I'd like to think it isn't the norm and it will continue to not be—I like my guys calling out their partner's names. Well unless we are talking about Shan *deep breath* again…cause yeah, he would so just cry out bakery goods, "Oh my cupcake! Honey bun hit it harder! Oh streusel I'm com—"

Yeah, about like that. hehe

5. Do you have any particular rituals in preparation for writing a smex scene? If not, what would you consider a good idea? 

Lee: *Sips tequila* *cues Bowie's Ashes to Ashes*  "Rituals"? No, I don't have any rituals I follow for writing anything.  LOL. I get up, make and drink coffee, watch the sunrise and turn on the computer to let the words flow.  If the words don't cooperate, I bake something. If that doesn't help, I read or walk in the woods.

Em: Do you have any particular rituals in preparation for writing a smex scene? If not, what would you consider a good idea? Surprisingly, I don't. But the best advice I could give is to do what works for you. If you need to smooch on your honey or if you need to load smexy music, go for it. I need to just dive on into it. The more I think on it, the more I over think it and ruin it.

JR: I don't have any particular rituals I do prior to writing a smex scene, but I can tell you this - it makes me hungrier than hell. I would consider it a good idea to eat a good meal beforehand. 

Hank: Limber up? LOL! Okay, I kid. Again, you have to be in the right mind set for it. I tend to let the scene build in my head, sort of like anticipation. Like when you talk with your partner about having sex later, maybe when you're both alone, and the anticipation is a big part of it.

Havan: Really? Who's idea was it to have a group of questions on sex—with us??? *heads desk* Honestly, I stay away from any and all types of erotica and porn when I know a sex scene is about to come. In fact—the easiest sex scene I wrote was in the middle of the night with everyone in the house in slumber and I hadn't even looked at a naughty picture for at least two days. I don't know…maybe I get a buildup inside of me…it whips itself into such a frenzy of needs and wants…it rises from within, jetting through me until it explodes in one glorious moment of colors and sounds and dreams…onto the paper? *sips drink and smirks innocently (cause yeah—I'm that good hehe)* What?

*chuckles*

Hey! Here's an idea- can you guess which Orgiast asked each question? 

Did you miss the previous interviews?  Check them out! 

Havan's place

&

Em's place 

Story Orgy Anthology from Breathless Press- Cover Art!

The new Story Orgy anthology releases from Breathless Press on December 2.

The anthology contains shorts form all your favorite Story orgy Authors, Em Woods, Havan Fellows, JR Boyd, Hank Edwards, and myself.

My contribution is The Park at Sunrise.  This is perhaps one of my favorite of all the stories I've written.

Here's the new cover!

Crawl in Bed With Hank Edwards and a Good Book

*crawls across the bed* Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Actually, they are bamboo sheets. I love them. Very soft and good for the environment.


Yes, I see... very comfortable. What are you wearing?

An XL V-neck T shirt and boxers. And you?


I'm wearing black and white plaid flannel sleep pants and a black tank, I like soft, comfortable, and warm. What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
I don't usually snack in bed, but since you're a special guest I'll make an exception. Possibly Pirate Booty puffed rice and corn, or maybe the messy disaster that is Crunchy Cheetos (always crunchy, never puffed)

I'm going to have to switch on comment moderation to filter out the Pirate Booty humor now.  So, if I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?

Depends which one you pointed to. Top one is remotes for TV and DVD player, note pads, pens, flashlight, bookmarks. The bottom one is the fun one. :)


*eyes bottom drawer*  I'll keep that in mind.  Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?

I like to sleep like a loose fitting burrito. I'll pull the covers up tight around my shoulders, but maybe stick part of a foot out. Sort of like how those lizards with the big fins on their backs use them to cool down.

Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?

I'm usually running about 10 degrees colder than anyone else, so it probably won't do much good. And after the initial shock of your cold feet and my resulting 

scream, of course you can!

Me, too.  I"m always cold, that is.  You know what they say, or I say to the SO, is 'cold hands, warm heart'.  Applies to feet too, I think.  So, what are we reading? 

I'm reading my new book, Bounty, the first book of my Venom Valley series. It's a vampire, zombie, witch mash up set in the Old West. Perfect season for it, don't you think? Right now it's available at Amazon only but I'm working on adding it to other places as well. Here's the link to Amazon:

Here's the link to the Facebook page where I'll post any updates about new file formats and the upcoming sequel titled "Bait!" http://facebook.com/VenomValleySeries.

Bounty Excerpt:

There was a body inside the house, Josh could feel it.

He stood on the porch as the chill wind blew sand around his boots and against the wood planks of the house. The warm feeling inside him, long absent and only just recently returning, had started again. It sat low in his belly, just above his groin, a ball of heat like a stone pulled from the ashes of a smoking fire. It wasn’t too bad, not yet, but Josh knew what the sensation meant. He had only felt it twice before, and both times he had been near a dead body. 

A dead body that suddenly started to move.

Behind him, Clementine tossed her head and snorted where she stood tied to the porch railing. 

“Easy, girl,” Josh whispered. He licked his dry lips and reached for the door latch. The warmth spread, became a hot, prickling sensation that filled his chest and spread down his arms, bringing his hand to a stop. 

He swallowed the little spit left in his mouth and stared at the door latch. If Agnes were behind the door, he didn’t think he could do what had to be done, not to her. She was the only mother he had known. He should just turn, step off the porch, climb into the saddle, and ride off into the September dusk.

But what if it wasn’t Agnes dead inside the house? What if it was someone else, maybe an Indian attacker Agnes had shot, and then she had gone for help? Or maybe it was an older lady caller who had had a bad heart? Josh had to know for sure.

He moved away from the door, crossing the porch in three long strides to lean his rifle against the house. Cupping his hands around his eyes, Josh peered through the dust-streaked window.

A single oil lamp was lit, the flame fluttering in the drafty sitting room. Josh squinted and looked all around the room but saw no sign of a body.

Yet the heat inside him remained, building, growing hotter still. It was as if his blood was being boiled over a fire and poured back inside him. 

Clementine snorted again, impatiently it seemed to Josh, and he shot the mare a dirty look. “Clem, hush now. I’ll take the saddle off soon.”

Josh picked up his rifle and moved back to the door. He adjusted his grip on the wooden stock, checked to make sure the safety was off, then thumbed the door latch and pushed inside.

Find Hank at

http://www.hankedwardsbooks.com

http://www.facebook.com/hankedwardsbooks

http://www.facebook.com/VenomValleySeries

http://www.facebook.com/SOGroup