Friday, December 5, 2014

Naughty List - How The Alien Stole Christmas

Good Morning everyone and Happy Friday! Today, I'm thrilled to welcome Belle Scarlett to my blog. She's a fellow member of the Naughty Literati and her short story, How The Alien Stole Christmas is part of the great boxed set, Naughty List.
How did you come up with the idea for your latest book?

The Naughty Literati’s Naughty List started off as a Christmas holiday themed boxed set of stories (then later changed to stories set in winter). I knew I wanted to do a futuristic, sexy love story between a human female and a sexy humanoid alien male so I started riffing on classic Christmas story titles – It’s a Wonderful Alien, that sort of thing – until I came up with How the Alien Stole Christmas. From there, the story told me how it wanted to unfold.

What’s coming up next for you in your writing?

I’m working on several WIPs, as always, but the immediate deadline is for The Naughty Literati’s next box set for Valentine’s Day… this one is a sexy time travel piece called Valentime.

What is your favorite quote and why?

“The Titanic was built by professionals. Noah was an amateur.” First, I love irony and this anonymous quote is full of that. Second, while I think professionalism in any endeavor is important, putting too much stock in one’s own hubris will sink you every time.

What advice would you offer to aspiring writers?

Read voraciously, whatever it is you love to read. And then write them the way you love to read them. That’s the fun part. Next, the bitch part… you have to read a bunch of badly written stuff, too. In my other life I’m a producer and screenplay consultant in Hollywood and, when I was coming up through the development ranks at the studios, I read over 6,000 really bad screenplays in the slush piles that (thankfully!) never made it to film. But in reading the bad stuff I figured out what NOT to do in my own writing, and that was just as valuable to my literary education as reading the classics or best sellers.

In a nod to the Actor’s Studio, what's your favorite curse word and why?

I actually don’t curse all that often. The benefit of that is when I find myself in a position where I have to say, “Fuckity-fuck!” or “What the bloody fuck, y’all?!”, people around me tend to listen up fast.

Short Blurb:

How The Alien Stole Christmas

On board a deep space station Christmas Trent learns her sexy cyber lover, who may not be human, wants to steal her for his own.

Excerpt from How The Alien Stole Christmas by Belle Scarlett

Copyright © Belle Scarlett, 2014

I asked if you understand me, soldier.

Christie needed release, and she needed it now. She gulped some air and started unzipping her flight uniform in anticipation of the next phase of their play.

“Yes, sir. I understand. Please, sir, permission to touch myself?”

The computer was silent for a moment. Then Blitz’s next message unfurled across her vid-screen.

Permission denied.

Christie froze in disbelief, her hand in mid-zip on her flight suit.

What? She glared at his words. Screw that, she thought rebelliously, and seriously considered disobeying a direct order from him for the first time ever.

Blitz seemed to read her mind.

Don’t even think about it, sweetheart. I’ll know if you’re being naughty or nice.

Frustration sizzled through her as she stopped unzipping her suit. Damn her submissive streak. She hadn’t even known she possessed one until she’d encountered Blitzen. As an experienced sexual dominant he had recognized her latent submissive qualities right away, and quickly set about training her in the art of pleasing him during their online play. Now her body wanted to do whatever he told it to do. And that was starting to prove freaking inconvenient.

“Ha. What can you do about it from there? Text me a lump of coal for my stocking?”

Don’t sass me, soldier. You don’t want to find out what I can do about it if you disobey me.

Christie bit her lip. For better or for worse, her sexual satisfaction was now tied to his and she knew it. If he didn’t want her to come, her body would side with him even if her mind was furious at them both.

He was probably just teasing her, as part of the cyber play. Maybe some more sugar would help matters.

“I’m sorry, sir. Please? May I come?”

I like when you beg me, Mistletoe. I grow even harder for you.

“Is that a yes?” She asked hopefully.

Nope. My order stands.

“I can’t believe this!” Blitzen had never seriously forbidden her to climax before.

Believe it. I own your next orgasm. It’s mine. From now on, you will save that delight for me to share, control, and enjoy.

She shivered. He couldn’t be serious. Who knew if they would ever even meet, or when?

“You’re ruthless, you know.”

Yes. And you’re sexy as hell and hard to resist. But I mean it, princess. The next time you climax it will be with your wet pussy tight around my hard cock, squeezing me with every thrust until I come deep inside you.

Christie instantly pictured them together on a large bed in full-on, carnal coitus. Her clit twitched in spasm, yearning to uncork the full orgasm bottled inside her pussy. She could feel her back arch in aroused response.

Damn, this guy was good. He had tuned her fantasies so well over the past two months that she could envision every sexy detail he described exactly as if he was in the room doing it to her.

Okay, okay! I surrender, already,” Christie half groaned, half laughed. She struggled to get her rioting body back under control.

It’s not my fault you have a hair-trigger libido, sweetheart.

She could almost hear his warm, male chuckle in her ear.

“You wouldn’t be able to get me so aroused so fast if your titillating star messages took days instead of seconds over sub-space frequencies,” she grumbled.

Wanna bet?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Belle Scarlett

By day, she’s a mild-mannered story consultant, film producer, and award-winning screenwriter in
Lost Angeles. By night, she assumes her super-secret identity as Belle Scarlett, author of futuristic and paranormal romances with a high sizzle factor. Aiding her in her quest for kick-ass, magical romance and out-of-this-world, passionate-ever-afters are her trusty sidekicks, Tall-Alpha-Blue-Eyed Boyfriend, upon whom her heroes are based, and Evil Feral Cat, upon whom her villains are based.
Fun Fact: Belle still owns a (now very battered) copy of the first romance novel that got her hooked on the stuff when she was in the seventh grade – Rightful Possession by Sally Wentworth.

Twitter: @scarlettwoman1
MySpace: Just kidding!

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Naughty List - On the Eighteenth of January '78

Good Morning everyone! Today, I'm thrilled to welcome Regina Kammer to my blog. She's a fellow member of the Naughty Literati and her short story, On the Eighteenth of January '78 -or- A Night at Valley Forge is part of the great boxed set, Naughty List.

Here's an opportunity to get to know Regina and then I'll share the short blurb for her story and an excerpt!

Which person in your life influenced you the most with your writing?

Chris Baty,the founder of National Novel Writing Month. Chris believes anyone can write a novel and challenges people to write 50,000 words of a novel during the thirty days of November. I took up that challenge back in 2006 and have been having fun as an author ever since. Every time I see him, he is super encouraging, as well.

Is one of your books your personal favorite? Why? 

“The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale” is my favorite. It’s both erotica—with the sexual journey of the heroine—and romance—with a Happily Ever After, plus it’s an adventure story with a lot of history. It is the epitome of what I set out to write when I decided to become a writer. It’s also self-published so there are some naughty scenes that I’m certain most publishers would balk at.

What’s coming up next for you in your writing?

Besides the Naughty List anthology I’m in with another American Revolution-set short story,I’m hoping to explore Steampunk a little more. The genre dovetails very well with the Victorian era, which I love writing, but there is freedom to add little twists to technology and the historical timeline.

What’s your favorite guilty pleasure?

A steaming hot bath with a cocktail and romance novel. This is so much more guilt-inducing when performed in drought-stricken California.

Where would you like to visit and why?

I’d love to go back to Turkey. I’m an art historian and Turkey is one of those “crossroads of civilization” places. Neolithic, Greek, Roman, Byzantine, Seljuk, Ottoman art and archaeology abound. Plus the food is amazing.

In a nod to the Actor’s Studio, what's your favorite curse word and why?

“Bollocks” for Brits, “Shit” for Americans. I love using these in my historicals! They suggest massive disappointment in one terse word.


Short Blurb:

On The Eighteenth of January, ’78; or, A Night At Valley Forge

During the infamous winter of ‘77-‘78 at Valley Forge, two soldiers fanboy over their charismatic leader, General George Washington.

Excerpt from On the Eighteenth of January, ’78; or, A Night at Valley Forge

Copyright © Regina Kammer, 2014

“I saw him today,” Zeb said quietly.

Him could only refer to one man. Zeb held General George Washington in something more than high regard. He worshipped the man, hoping for a chance to see him every day, blushing and fawning like a virgin miss at an assembly hall during a country dance whenever the general happened across their squad. Barn wasn’t sure if it was endearing or unseemly.

Yet, it was too easy to fall under the spell that was “GW”. The general had an allure, a magnetism that drew all in, making women swoon and men want to serve. If the notion of independent states, the freedom to rise above circumstance of birth, the prospect of taxes building a nation rather than filling a king’s coffers did not attract the sons and daughters of America, then GW the man certainly did. Just his very presence got one’s blood to boil against tyranny, set one’s pulse beating to the rhythm of liberty, urged one’s feet to march for freedom.

GW was the sole reason why twelve thousand American soldiers camped on a plateau above a captured Philadelphia, keeping a watchful eye on the British while enduring freezing rains and the privations of civilized life, lacking proper clothes, nourishing food, suffering the pains of amputation and the stench of death.

“He was on foot,” Zeb murmured. “His great height the equal of mine own, yet I felt so small before him. His blue eyes penetrated my soul as he asked such simple questions—”

Zeb’s cock sprang to life in his clothes, pushing into Barn’s left butt cheek. Barn stifled a sigh.

“Did we have enough tools? Was there enough wood?”

Barn reached around and slowly unfastened the buttons at the fall of Zeb’s breeches. As always, Zeb gave no protest.

“He seemed very concerned our hut had not yet been constructed.” snorted. “Yeah, well, with Alex and Johnny laid up with dysentery and Zack dead, it’s been slow going.”

Zeb did not respond. He merely adjusted himself to allow Barn’s questing fingers better access at the placket of his drawers. Barn struggled to contain his zeal.

“He took off his hat to speak to me. His gray hair was still tinged with a touch of the auburn of his youth.”

Freed from its prison of clothes, Zeb’s magnificent manhood bobbed impetuously. Barn gripped the hard flesh, closing his eyes as heat from the intimate connection seeped through his fingerless gloves to course through his body.

“His timbre was melodious, almost enchanting. I could listen to him talk about felling trees all day.”

Barn chuckled. “And not do any felling yourself, hmm?”

Again Zeb ignored him, instead steering the conversation to his favorite topic. “How do you think he guards against the cold all alone in his tent?” There was a poignant earnestness to his question.

Barn twisted around to face his companion, the adulation and concern in Zeb’s expression softly illuminated by the dying campfire outside. “I’m sure his greatcoat keeps him plenty warm.” Zeb’s devotion to GW spawned a fragility that impelled Barn to want to protect his tent mate, to comfort him in the only way he knew how.


Regina Kammer is an award-nominated, Amazon best-selling, multi-published writer of erotica and historical erotic romance. Her short stories and novels have been published by Cleis Press, Go Deeper Press, Ellora’s Cave, House of Erotica, and her own imprint, Viridium Press. She began writing historical fiction with romantic elements during National Novel Writing Month 2006, switching to erotica when all her characters suddenly demanded to have sex.

Keep up with Regina at:
Follow her on Twitter: @Kammerotica
See what’s new on her Amazon Author Page

Monday, December 1, 2014

New Release - Naughty List as part of the Naughty Literati everyone,
   I'm super excited to introduce a new release, called Naughty List by myself and twelve other talented authors of sexy reads! Together we are known as The Naughty Literati . The Naughty Literati also has a blog, which you can read HERE...

My contribution to this boxed set is called No Gentleman.

I'll share a bit of a teaser today and then, on Wednesday and Friday, I'll share interviews and excerpts from two of the other authors who have participated in the boxed set. I think you'll enjoy all of these short but hot stories.

Short Blurb for No Gentleman by Francesca Hawley:

Librarian Abby Kelly comes west finding a roguish shapeshifter who desires her. Will Goldwolf is no gentleman, but Abby discovers he’s just what she wants.

Copyright © Francesca Hawley, 2014

Chapter One

Whitewolf, Colorado, December 1905

“All the books have been shelved, Mrs. Kelly.” Lizzy Redwolf pinned on her hat. “With it being Friday night, you’d best be leaving shortly. You know how those men at the saloon can get.”

“Yes, I certainly do, Mrs. Redwolf.”

Abigail Kelly straightened her shoulders as she finished cataloging the newest books for the library. It wouldn’t be long until the noise of her nearest neighbors took over the night and brawls would spill out the doors and into the streets. So far she’d managed to avoid all of it.

All of it but the saloon owner himself. William Goldwolf made his disapproval of the new town library—and by extension, the new librarian—perfectly clear. The kindest thing he’d said was that the library was a waste of taxpayer’s money. Abigail fought her habitual scowl when thinking about that man. Unfortunately, she found herself thinking about him far too often.

“Well, now. I’m off to feed my husband and young’uns.”

“I’ll walk you out and lock up.” Abigail stood and took her keys off the ring at her waist. “Did you lock the back entrance?”

Lizzy stuttered to a halt and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh no. I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Abigail smiled and patted her shoulder. “I’ll get the door after I lock up the front. This is where all the rough types are, after all.”

“Right you are, and it’s early yet,” the other woman laughed, “Now, in an hour…”

“Just so.”

“Night, Ma’am.” Lizzy opened the door and headed out into the late afternoon sunlight.

“Good Evening.”

Abigail carefully adjusted the evergreen wreath hanging there, locked the door and tested it. The last thing she wanted was some hooligan coming in and spilling beer or worse, on her fine marble floors. She went directly to the rear entrance of the library and locked that door as well.

She’d leave by the back when she’d finished her business. The further she was from the saloon, the happier she’d be. Drunken men brought back unpleasant memories of her late husband. Drunk or sober he’d been charming, but when he was drunk he gambled and when he gambled, he lost. She hated having her hard earned wages lost to the turn of a card or the roll of the dice. In spite of it all, she missed him and she missed their loving even more. Just the thought of a man’s strong arms around her caused her breath to catch and her body to tremble.

Abigail sighed, then set about tending the fireplaces, putting out fires and laying a new one for the morning. It was growing colder, and it had snowed that morning. She was used to snow, but not quite so much as fell in the mountains of Colorado. Christmas was less than a week away and the countryside looked like a painting. Peaceful. Beautiful. It would be her first all alone. She was pleased she’d accepted this position, but she wished for some friends to share her time.

She returned to the main desk and began to put away her work for the day. The cards she’d created for the card catalog would need to be filed in the morning and the new books shelved. So many things to do.

A battered snow-dusted hat landed on her desk and she jumped with a shriek. Her gaze flew upward. Straight into the ice blue eyes of William Goldwolf. She couldn’t contain her growl of exasperation.

“How did you get in?”

He dangled a key in front of her.

“I see. Well, good evening, Mr. Goldwolf. What brings you into this useless house of worship for slow minds?”

He chuckled as she quoted him verbatim from the last library board meeting. She still couldn’t understand why he’d been asked to be a member of the board. He didn’t support their mission to educate the citizenry. She’d yet to meet a more quarrelsome man and she utterly refused to acknowledge the thrill that went through her whenever they were in the same room.

A smile tilted the corner of his mouth as he sat down on her desk, knowing how she hated it. Abigail bit the inside of her cheek to keep from chasing him off her desk, aflutter like an angry wet hen. An epithet he’d used to describe her on more than one occasion. She clutched the back of her chair, hoping to keep her temper…this time.

“Maybe I want to check out a book, Mrs. Kelly.” She raised her brows but kept her mouth closed. Abigail could do without further provocation this evening. “Isn’t it your job to help me find somethin’, what did you call it? Ah yeah, improving to the mind,” He chuckled as he quoted her, eastern accent and all.

She clutched the chair harder because she refused to get into an argument with this man today. “I can recommend a number of possibilities. Perhaps the Bible might be fitting.”

“Improving to the mind, sure enough, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun?” Abigail’s mouth fall open.

“Yeah, shouldn’t readin’ be fun?” He leaned over, set a single finger under her chin and pressed. She closed her open mouth and pulled her head away from his touch. Exasperating man! She would absolutely ignore that his touch had set her heart fluttering in a way she’d forgotten she could feel.


Come back Wednesday for Regina Kammer's interview and a teaser excerpt for her excellent addition to the boxed set, On the Eighteenth of January '78 -or- A Night at Valley Forge.

During the infamous winter of '77-'78 at Valley Forge, two soldiers fanboy over their charismatic leader, General George Washington.


On Friday, get to know Belle Scarlett and learn more about her selection, How the Alien Stole Christmas.

On board a deep space station Christmas Trent learns her sexy cyber lover, who may not be human, wants to steal her for his own.