Writing

I’ll believe it when I see it… The Big Freeze

Apparently we have “another” big freeze on the way. If the last one—about an inch of snow, some frost, and a cold snap—constitutes a “big freeze” then all will be well. However, according to the online newspaper, we’re maybe looking at an 8 inch dump. Now, that didn’t sound too nice, did it, but of course, I meant snow.
I had planned to go food shopping tomorrow but, even though I roll my eyes at those people who run to the shops when an upcoming big freeze is announced and buy everything in sight, I’m going to have to do the same. The weatherman usually gets it wrong around here, but knowing my luck, if I think he will again, he’ll get it right this time. I get my shopping dropped off by the shop’s delivery service, and going by last year, if there’s snow, they won’t deliver. Hence me having to go shopping today so I get my food brought to my door before those eight inches make an appearance. (Please don’t. I don’t really dig the white stuff.)
Last week I was able to write after a stint on revamping blogs for fellow authors. I managed 10K adding to a previously finished novella, introducing two secondary characters in the prologue so they play a bigger part throughout the book. I stopped at a fight scene, so I have that to get along with this week. Not relishing the prospect, but there you go. I write myself into these situations and have to write myself out of them.
At the weekend I had a fight with my Sarah Masters website and lost all the front page data. It said there had been an “error” when I saved my latest addition to the page, then promptly scoffed all my book pics, blurbs, and buy now links. I wanted to cry, thought about putting them all back on and decided that no, I wasn’t going through that again if the web hoster was acting up. So I just added my book covers instead and hope that those who visit the site are motivated enough to go browsing for my books by themselves until I get back to adding links to each picture. Who says the damn hosting site will behave when I get around to doing that? I really need to get a .com and have all my names in one place. Less stress when updating.
So, that’s it from me today. It’s 07:51 and I really must get the little one up and out to school, then into town, and finally back home where I can relax and await the promised inches of snow. Oh joy.
Wherever you are, whatever the weather, have a great day today, loves!
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Writing…At Last!

Sometimes I like taking time off from writing. It gets to the point where I sit here procrastinating rather than continuing my tales. Time wasting. Internet browsing. However, there’s also the opposite, when I’m busy with other things and can’t write, and I get the need to creeping up on me, characters from books starting to chatter: Oi, have you forgotten about me? I’ve been left stuck in a tree for a month. My arms are aching! OR: Hey, you left me in a delicate position. I must be the only man on the planet to have maintained a state of excitement for two weeks!

Yeah, yeah, I heard the whispers, and now they’re up to “normal” voice volume. Thankfully, today I can write and stop them getting to the shouting stage. The shouting stage isn’t nice, because by that time I’m so frustrated I can’t write due to other jobs that need doing first, that I become a total grouch. Depressed, angry, everything annoys me, etc. I’ve finished a few projects I had on the go and, despite having two more things on my to-do list, I’m taking the weekend to write.

I’ve had Jaime Samms’ chapters of our latest novel sitting in my to-do email folder for a little while now. It’s been waving every time I go in there to check what needs doing next. Asking me to open it. Go on, just peek. For a minute… But I knew if I peeked, I’d write and forget about the to-do list.

Last night I peeked. And yep, I’ve forgotten about the to-do list. Jaime has taken the book in a very cool direction that ties in very nicely with my previous chapters. I can’t help it, can’t resist. I’m diving in to write about my heroine’s situation and my bad guy’s dilemma, bringing all the characters together for Jaime to deal with when I send it back. (Mwhahahaha!)

This book is called The Dreaming and should reach about 80+K by the time we’re done. A veritable m/m delight that delivers two cop lovers, a ballsy heroine, and a mixed-up killer. Oh, and also a mixed-up female who came along a little while back, plus a whole realm of people who aren’t of this world… It’s a thriller, drama, paranormal, horror, romance…a good old mixture of genres that blend very well.

I love it. So now I’m going to get on with it!
Can we shout hooray? Yeah? HOORAY!

Have a great weekend!

New Release! Wildfire- Book 4 in the Blinded Series

Ryan takes Lee away to recuperate, but once again, someone from their past catches up with them.

Blurb:

After Lee leaves hospital to further recover from being shot, Ryan takes them on a long weekend. They stay in a hotel and enjoy one another’s company, taking strolls on the beach and eating in the local pub. During one beach walk, one of their old adversaries shows up, letting Ryan and Lee know in no uncertain terms that the gang leader hasn’t finished with them yet.

Ryan has always brushed off the fact that some people are anti-gay, but now he is forced to accept that as much as he wishes people would just leave them alone, you don’t always get what you wish for.


 


Out Today! His Beautiful Wench

Drawn to the attic in her new home, Amelia finds a saucy nineteenth-century wench dress. At first glance, it’s just a dress, but once she dons it, desire streaks through her and she’s transported to the past. Overwhelmed by lust, she is caught pleasuring herself, discovered by the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen, who turns out to be—her lover?

Amelia and Emmet join in an explosive sexual union, erasing the months—or is it centuries?—they have been apart as though they never existed. But suddenly Amelia awakes—alone.

Until the dress calls again.

Emmett’s not the only one lusting after Amelia. Lord Graham wants her and he doesn’t fight fair. He kidnaps her, sends Emmett on a deadly errand and forces Amelia to participate in his voyeuristic games. Although Amelia’s body betrays her, she vows to remain true to Emmett, but will he return? And can she escape the clutches of Lord Graham’s debauchery?

Amidst subterfuge, treachery and murder, Amelia and Emmet’s love grows and they reach new heights of carnal passions.

EXCERPT:

Emmett ignored her, only sliding his hands to span her stomach. His mouth covered one nipple, teeth lightly nipping, and the shock nearly had her opening her eyes. He sucked, tugging on the taut peak the way she liked, as she knew he would. She cried out, almost reaching her pain threshold. Emmett eased the pressure a little, then sucked and reared his head back once more, the torment too much for her, too intense.

“Stop, I…”

He let her nipple go. It ached, and despite wanting the sweet torture to end, she longed for more. As though picking up on her thoughts, he tongued her nipple, sucking it as before. Amelia clasped her hands together tighter, wanting to cry out yet at the same time testing herself to see how far she could go. He pulled harder, his fingers stroking her waist, circling her navel, and she clenched her cunt, willed herself not to gasp.

She failed, snatching in air.

Breast free of his mouth, she lifted her pelvis, needing him to cater to her throbbing bud. The mattress dipped again as he shuffled his knees farther down the bed then settled between her legs, the heat of his breath on her slit forcing the air out of her lungs. Her torso juddered beneath his questing fingers and she itched to pinch her nipples. Instead, she squeezed her hands again. His tongue parted her. The tip swirled around her nub and a blaze of sensation warmed the folds.

“Oh God, Emmett…”

“I’m going to sup your cream. Lick you, make you want me so much you can’t breathe.”

He flattened his tongue, licking her with quick strokes, fingers smoothing down her body to widen her slit. She bucked as he worked faster, exquisite waves of pleasure ebbing and flowing in and around her bud. Panting, she writhed, unclasping her hands and gripping the headboard spindles. She dug her nails into her palms, the bite adding to her excitement. Tongue flicking from side to side, Emmett brought her to the brink of orgasm then stopped, kissing her mound and her lower belly. She hissed out between clenched teeth, frustrated but knowing when he touched her there again the pleasure would be stronger. He took his mouth from her belly and didn’t move. She waited, eyes still closed, and listened to the sounds around them—their breaths, a creaking bed downstairs, faint moans from customers, footsteps on the wooden floor below. She longed to open her eyes, to see whether he studied her, but at the same time not knowing suited her. And she waited, her heart picking up speed, her wet nub throbbing in time with it. God, how she wanted to let go and slide her hands into his hair, pushing his mouth down onto her slit, directing his movements and orchestrating the pressure. To tell him to sup her now, beg if she had to. But she remained silent, confident he knew exactly when to begin again.

At last, movement! He hooked his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her, setting her lower half on his thighs. His balls rested against her ass, their softness and warmth arousing her beyond measure. Emmett brushed his hands up and down her legs, thumbs skating close to her thatch each time he reached the top. When he drew away she almost cried out in frustration, wanting more of the touch of his fingertips beside her mound. He leaned back to caress her shins, then her calves and she loosed a strangled moan. God, he teased her so! She needed his hands higher up, at her nub, which pulsed and swelled with every passing second. Sliding his hands beneath her knees, he pushed so her legs bent and she placed her feet beside him on the bed. He spread her legs and she could only imagine the sight of herself open for his viewing.

“Beautiful, wench. Beautiful.”

Her stomach flipped at the hoarseness of his voice, a voice that belied the fact he was in control. He was close, she sensed it, and it wouldn’t be long before he could hold back no longer and plunged inside her. She hoped it would be soon, because she was close to coming herself. The slowness of his actions had brought her to a high state of arousal, and just the slightest touch now might send her over the edge.

Thumbs sliding up and down each lip of her slit, Emmett tortured Amelia some more. She jolted, eyes nearly springing open, and waited to feel what he would do next. He placed his thumbs together then glided them down to her opening, easing them inside with his fingers splayed over her mound. He pressed his thumbs and fingers together, her pelvic bone in between, and moved his thumbs up and down the upper wall of her sheath. Suddenly, he curved his thumb tips and touched something deep inside her, a place he had never been before. A sharp sensation had her abdomen jerking and she almost, almost opened her eyes.

“Did you like that?” he asked, dragging his thumbs down then returning them to that place, pressing there with his fingers.

The sensation came again, and now he concentrated on the area, rubbing what felt like a ridge inside her. She nodded, wondering what would happen if he kept stroking. Amelia didn’t have to wait long before successive shots of fierce pleasure momentarily took away her ability to breathe.

“I told you I’d take away your breath. Good. That feels good, doesn’t it, wench?”

She nodded and gasped, riding out the new feelings his thumbs produced. As the bite receded, her bud still throbbing and in need of attention, he eased his thumbs out and gripped her waist. Without warning, he thrust his cock inside her, fucking her hard and fast. She clenched her sheath around him, gripped the bed spindles tighter and gave in to the rising tide.

“Ah, wench!” he ground out.

His firm thrusts nudged her up the bed and she crossed her ankles at his lower back, her whole body tingling with excitement. Juices coated his cock, the length of him gliding in and out easily, the aroma of sex heightening her desire. She came, bucking, keening, emotions running so high they overwhelmed her with their intensity. Emmett’s low moans and grunts brought on another wave of pleasure and her cunt ached with it. Wet heat filled her and her lover loosed a strangled yell, pushing into her with short jabs as he emptied himself into her contracting sheath. He slowed to a stop and lowered his body to hers, brushing her cheeks with sweet kisses.

Amelia opened her eyes, staring into his. Love shone from him and she wanted so much to tell him how she felt, but the words wouldn’t come, halted by the lump in her throat.

I love you, Emmett Dray. Love you…

 

Horror Author Daniel I. Russell

TODAY WE HAVE SOMETHING A LITTLE DIFFERENT. WHILE I’M NOT ONE FOR SALES PITCHES, I RECENTLY MET A GENTLEMEN WHO PIQUED MY CURIOSITY REGARDING AN EMERGING SOCIAL NETWORK. MOVE OVER FACEBOOK! I ASKED HIM TO BE A GUEST ON THE BLOG. LET’S SEE WHAT HE HAS TO SAY.

CAN YOU TELL ME A LITTLE SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR ORGANISATION?

Of course, and thank you for having me!

All I have to do is ask: have you ever wanted…more?

Of course you have! It’s human nature to look at our simple lives, perhaps the plain wife in front of the television and the ugly brats that are fighting over the meagre crumbs your worthless employment can provide. Does this sound like you? Then read on, friend!

We here at the Cult of Zandathru…

LET ME STOP YOU THERE. CULT? WE HEAR SUCH HORROR STORIES ABOUT CULTS NOWADAYS. NOT GOING TO OFFER ME KOOLAID ARE YOU?

No, no. Let me explain. The word cult in the Cult of Zandathru is merely a term. Consider it as a friendly group of people. We have no religious connotations nor connections.  You will not be required to attend church, pray or sing hymns. We also don’t have any religious texts that you are to meticulously study. We put the ult back into cult, ult being the neo-anglo-saxon term for fun!

SO THERE IS NO RELIGIOUS COMMITMENT?

Well, Zandathru is the ancient god of chaos, but it’s more like a figurehead. Something for the Cafepress t shirts and mugs.

SO IF THE CULT OF ZANDATHRU HAS NO RELIGIOUS BACKGROUND, WHAT’S IT ALL ABOUT? I’M INTRIGUED!

Our members believe in themselves. If you want something, why shouldn’t you have it? Don’t we all work hard enough to get what we want?  The Cult of Zandathru is also firmly established in the new world of telecommunications, and we regularly have members meet and trade ideas online. We also broadcast directly to members over the net via our subscription service. That side of the business is run by a chap we call Demon, as he’s a demon when it comes to technology! Demon has a very impressive set up at our Orchard House site in the quaint old town of Samhane. Subscribers are guaranteed the upmost in download times, hi-res video and and a wide band width, whatever that means!

AND WHAT DO YOU PROVIDE?

Let me ask you something. What would you want providing?

FOR A STREAMING SITE? I WOULD EXPECT MUSIC, SPORT, THE LATEST MOVIES…

I think we’re being a little modest! What would you really want to see? Any fantasy can be provided. Any sin of the flesh imaginable can be broadcast live into your own living room…

AH, SO YOU RUN A PORN SITE?

The term porn is so…tarnished, nowadays. Is it porn to eat caviar and drink champagne in the finest restaurant? Or to scratch an itch that’s been screaming for attention? No, I don’t think it is. We cater for any taste, and subscribers can even email their requests in live during the broadcast. Please bear in mind that none of the broadcasts are morally wrong in any way. We have members who even watch with their children! We love the little tykes, and they enjoy the interactivity of the shows. Children are the future, after all.

CAN YOU CONFIRM THAT THE CULT OF ZANDATHRU IS TIED WITH BELVEDERE LTD, OR MORE SPECIFICALLY JOSEPH BELVEDERE? THE GRANDSON OF CHARLES BELVEDERE, FOUNDER OF SAMHANE?

No comment.

THE BROADCASTS SOUND GREAT. IT WOULD BE NICE TO FIND SOMETHING MY YOUNG SON AND I CAN DO TOGETHER. HOW DO I FIND OUT MORE?

The next step would be to pick up a copy of the novel Samhane. The Cult of Zandathru employed some hack writer to dress up our practices and make it look like a novel. That way, we can attract the lucrative market of fiction readers. Why waste time reading when you can watch pure pleasure 24/7? But yes, the novel will give potential followers…erm, subscribers a deeper insight into how we operate.

Although just to clarify, the author did go a tad overboard. His accounts of torture-porn, chainsaws, acid, rape, cannibalism and giant, horrific gods are purely artistic license for sales. Unfortunately, not only was the Cult’s reputation tarnished, but sadly the author met a tragic accident shortly after the review copies were sent out. A group broke into his house at night and flayed him in his bed. At least the money we save in royalties can go towards repairing our besmirched reputation! Should you want to know more about this sad and pointless death, we have the video, available to all subscribers. You should see it…boy does he bleed. And the screams? Oh the screams are orgasmic! Almost as good as the time Demon remade the move ‘Drillbit Taylor’ with a girl called Taylor and a drill…

OKAY…I THINK WE”VE HEARD ENOUGH. CAN YOU LEAVE NOW? 

I don’t think so. I’ve been here long enough. All this time Demon has been hacking into your blog account. This site now belongs to us!

The pain, the confusion, the brutality,

He invades, He reaps, He destroys,

He answers the cry of your hidden self,

Those are His ways,

So say the Order of Zandathru!

Samhane, available from Stygian Publications, Amazon and other retailers from late November. Visit Stygian at www.necrotictissue.com and keep up with the now skinless author at http://www.daniel-i-russell.blogspot.com.

 


You Write WHAT?

Come and join me HERE today and find out some of the reactions I’ve encountered when I’ve told someone what I write!

See you there!


You Write WHAT?

Come and join me HERE today and find out some of the reactions I’ve encountered when I’ve told someone what I write!