Call for Submissions: Sexy Librarian

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Victoria Blisse, (NSFW edition!)

Introduction to Rob and Lou.

Robert Nimble is thirty-five years old, he’s tech support for a large Internet host, and loves to play computer games to relax. He’s married to Louise Nimble, who’s a child minder, and a year younger than her husband. She bakes to unwind. Taking the old adage that stressed is desserts spelt backwards to heart.

Robert and Louise are more often known by the shortenings of their names—Rob and Lou. They’ve been married for ten years and have two children: Connor, who is six, and Elizabeth, who’s four. They live in a terraced house in a suburban outskirt of Manchester. As a family, they enjoy their yearly week-long holiday to Scarborough, and visits to the cinema to watch films that the kids and adults giggle at in equal measure. In the school holidays, they’ll often be found in museums and parks, enjoying the culture and the beauty of Britain.

They’re a smiley family, although Rob can get grumpy when his tech genius isn’t taken seriously enough, and Lou may have the patience of a saint with children, but more than two hours with her in-laws has her pulling out her hair. The children are mostly well-behaved, with an inclination to the curious, and the mischief that goes hand in hand with that. If they do run into the back of your legs, or scare you with their latest pet insect, they will apologise politely and you’re likely to instantly forgive them.

This book is not about the day-to-day life of this family, but those weekends and rare occasions that Lou and Rob get some time to themselves to indulge their sensual natures. Rob enjoys seeing his darling wife in very little clothing, and likes to indulge in intricate and imaginative role plays. Lou enjoys a bit of spanking, some domination, and bondage. She wouldn’t say she was into BDSM, per se; she just likes to dip a toe in the shallow end of that particularly pervy pond. They both like to flirt with erotic danger, playing about in public places in hopes of possibly being caught.

Rob and Lou’s Wild Weekends are just that, so hold on and enjoy the ride.

Buy links and more info: http://victoriablisse.co.uk/books/rob-lous-wild-weekends

Individual Buy links:

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/313229

Amazon.co.uk https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00CNZCBQQ/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=sexy00-21

Amazon.comhttp://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CNZCBQQ/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=sexy00-21

All Romance Ebooks https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-roblou039swildweekends-1190226-149.html?referrer=9d8e54f3ce71ca2554b388837ebb07e6

Hot Excerpt

Rob and Lou’s Domestic Discipline

It was only a small parcel in a typical brown padded envelope. It wasn’t expected, which is why I spent so long looking it over. The return address didn’t ring a bell, and I really couldn’t imagine what it could be so, finally, I opened it. I grinned to myself as I did. My husband Rob would have laughed at me, spending so long looking at the wrapping and wondering. He doesn’t get why I like to eke out the anticipation in moments like this.

Inside was a square of white with a lacy frill all around it. When I opened it up, I found ties –it was a pinny. Inside the parcel was a sealed envelope. I opened it to find a card covered in small red love hearts.

Wear this tonight and only this xxx

PS Kids are going to my mum’s for tea tonight, so don’t worry.

I recognised my husband’s handwriting immediately and chuckled when I remembered a conversation we’d held in a restaurant once about pinnies and their attractiveness. Well, Rob had been staring at this red-headed waitress (he loves auburn hair) with cute curves and pouty lips, and I had to pull him up on it.

“No, Lou, No.” He shook his head. “I am helplessly addicted to pinnies. I can’t help it.”

“Pinnies?” I lifted one brow and pinched his thigh under the table. “You’re turned on by tiny little aprons?”

“Yes.” He nodded solemnly. “It’s a terrible affliction.”

“What’s your favourite kind?”

“White ones with lacy bits,” he replied, licking his lips salaciously.

That night, I whispered dirty sweet nothings in his ear while we fucked in the comfort of our hotel room bed. I told a story where I was a simple girl, waiting on tables in a quaint old tea shop, wearing a little lacy pinny. I giggled. He chuckled, but as my tale got hotter, the noises we made became strangled and lust-filled.

“You watch me until the end of my shift,” I whispered, hunched over him, my soft thighs stretched around his waist as his hard erection filled me. I moved gently up and down and continued the tale. “Then follow me outside into the alley. Before I can cry out, you clamp your hand over my mouth and push me roughly against the wall. I struggle helplessly but you hold me down and whisper about knowing I want it. How I’d teased you and how I would get what I’d been asking for.”

I still remember how he gripped my hips tightly when I rode him. I continued my story through groans of pleasure.

“You spin me around, press me into the harsh brick of the wall, and pull up my skirt. Grabbing hold of my prim pinny, you fuck me. I’m soaking wet, so you slide right in. You fuck me there in an alley, the girl you just met, the girl you hardly know.”

My words turned into unintelligible mumblings at the point where ecstasy took over. And ever since our holiday, with the visit to that restaurant and the evening’s tale of indecency in an apron, we’ve found a mutual fondness for the uniform of waiting staff and hotel workers alike. So, if Rob wanted me naked in nothing but a pinny for Valentine’s, that’s what he could have.

Scoring; Torquere Writer's Call

Tight ends. Rugby calendars. Rodeo riders in leather chaps. Who says sports aren't sexy? Think of all those hard bodies, working for the win. Whether championship winners or local pick-up game heroes, the Scoring anthology is all about guys who play sports, and guys who score.

We're looking for fully realized romantic stories with happy ending on a sports theme. Story length is 5000 words and up, but stories of extreme length will need to be extraordinary to obtain acceptance. Stories will be collected into a paperback volume, for which the payment is $35.00 plus one print copy of the book. Stories will be contracted individually on an ebook basis, and will receive separate royalties for single copy sales.

Send your submissions to submissions @ torquerepress.com with Scoring Anthology in the subject field. Please see our general submissions guidelines for formatting etc.

Deadline, June 1.

Guest Post: John Tomaino

More about me and my books here: www.johntomaino.com

What are your greatest challenges in your writing career?

Finding (read making) the time to write. This is all about priorities. The story ideas are always there for me, so it's more about the discipline of making time and not succumbing to life's distractions.

Of your published works, do you have a favorite? Why?

It seems that my latest works, in this case: 'Saint Menace: The Patron Saint of Terror', are my favorites as my writing improves with every publication. However, as for a story, I think 'The White Room', my first novella published by Karabeth, will always hold a special place for me. It's a uniquely spooky and unsettling piece about a woman who voluntarily admits herself into a psychiatric institution, but struggles to get out.

What are your biggest pet peeves for other people's grammar? Are there any mistakes that you find yourself making regularly?

Social media grammar - or should I say 'gramma' is just atrocious! But I guess there is no turning back from the slipshod, fast-food approach to communicating on these platforms. For me, I always have to double check that I'm using 'past' and 'passed' correctly. To this day I am still unsure, to be honest! Did I pass?

Do you ever want to go back and edit an older story?

If I re-read a story, I invariably want to change something, but it's usually not the editing as I'm fanatical about tightening things up. I'm sure that painters must wish they could carry around a paint brush and re-visit their old exhibitions and apply that missing dab or stroke, just to finish off the painting... but is it ever really finished?

What's your writing routine?

Sporadic, in short furious bursts, then nothing for ages!

What writers or novels do you consider “must reads”?

I learnt a lot from Stephen King's 'On Writing'. Omit needless words is the key. It sharpens your work. Using less words, but more meaningful and effective ones, is a good lesson to learn. It's just like music: simple with less notes generally works best. Simon and Garfunkel are just guitar and vocals and they are mesmerizing, aren't they? Because less is more and cuts closer to the heart.

Talk to us about your domestic life; favorite recipe, pets, children, your house...

I have a newborn that is a tiny terror at night. Ava leaves me plenty of time to write - or at least think about it!

Tell us three things about you that are interesting.

I write original pop/rock music. See www.myspace.com/jttunes.com 

I still work full time in the justice system.

I am a music producer and develop other artists.

Writer's Call; Steampunk m/m stories

Steamed Up

Edited by Anne Regan

Dreamspinner Press is seeking romantic short stories with steampunk themes.

Possible examples: Ulysses makes mechanical flowers that bloom to try to catch the eye of the quiet, bookish man who lives next door. Shop owner Abe fell in love with inventor Adolph from afar, but what does he have to offer? Nobleman August holds himself above love until he meets commoner Charlie, a man he can’t have. Bart and Coleson want a family and adopt an orphan who has an uncommon talent.

Editor’s Note: Because of the packaged nature of the anthology, all stories need to stand alone. No sequels to or spin-offs of previously published works, please.

Submission Deadline: July 1, 2013

Publication Date: October 2013

Single-book anthology story length: 3,500 - 12,000 words
Manuscripts shorter or longer will be considered but will have to be extraordinary.
Follow general Submission Guidelines for instructions and formatting.

Send all submissions to anneregan@dreamspinnerpress.com. List the anthology title in the subject line of your e-mail. Ex: STEAMED anthology submission

Unexpected Sexual Predilections

So...

My parental ideals were tested. Again.

I have tried very hard to maintain that I would like my daughter to be able to talk to me about sex. That I'd be open minded and understanding. After all, I was sexually active pretty young and my mom's openness with me about it kept me - well, not from doing anything stupid. I did a lot of stupid shit. But it did keep me from having awful consequences from the stupid; I didn't have any unwanted babies, and I never once got an STD.

(Aside; one of my much less sexually active friends expresses complete astonishment that I never got an STD... sex ed has been using scare tactics for so long that many people assume if you have more than 5 partners - yes, I have more than 5, in fact I have quite a few more than 5 - that you will get herpes or gonorrhea or something.)

Yes, I knew very early what a condom is and how to use it.



Yes, wrap it up. All the time, wrap it. In fact, the one time I ever used my safeword was when a partner threatened to "go in bareback" when we were playing around with bondage. He attempted to refuse and I kicked him in the jaw. Dumbass.

Anyway...

I was cleaning my daughter's room yesterday.

And found this, under her bed.

Oooooookay.

My daughter is nine. NINE. She hasn't even started menstruating yet.

Well, if she's having sex - already! - then she's at least having safe sex. I ponder the situation for a while. She had several friend over this past weekend; at least two of whom brought bags of stuff over. Two of her little friends have older brothers in the 13 - 15 range.

But the child is off at school and I can't ask her questions. So I think of options. K's brother could be having sex. God knows, half of K's shit ends up in my daughter's room. Heck, we have at least 2 pairs of underwear belonging to M's daughters... I'm not entirely sure WHY R leaves her panties in my daughter's laundry basket, but it's happened before.

Also, most of my friends are now sleeping with EACH OTHER. Yay, my weird matchmaking hobbies, but of the couples I've introduced to each other, one pair is engaged, one are planning to move in together, and the third are happily seeing each other exclusively. Honestly, that's not intentional - I introduce people to someone I think they might be sexually compatible with for the purposes of getting them laid... my sexually wound up friends get me slightly stressed out... lack of sex or repression isn't healthy! It's also often pretty noticeable... anyway, it's never been my plan to have people get together and stay that way for over two and a half years. It's nice though. When my friends date each other, I don't have to put up with bullshit crazy-ass sig-others that I cannot stand. Like Billy - not his real name - who was a one night stand for my friend and he just didn't go home in the morning. He stuck around and infuriated me for months. Why yes, I am a little selfish, you hadn't noticed?

That being said, it was possible that the wrapper belonged to one of those couples; two of which have slept on my sofa.

Anyway, finally the child comes home from school and I ask her about it.

"Oh, that? I found it in the box of Legos dad gave me. What is it?"

After explaining what a condom is and how you use it (again. we've actually discussed this before, but I didn't have one around to use for demonstrations - one of the nicest thing about being monogamous is not needing to use them anymore, and I haven't since that horrible year after the child was born and I was breastfeeding and we didn't want to risk getting pregnant again immediately...) I texted my husband.



Turns out it's your condom. Checked the expiration date. It expired in '99.

She found it in the Legos you gave her from when you were a kid.

Did I store a condom in there? I don't remember that. Must be from high school.

Practice safe bricking.

I'm a Legophiliac. I admit it.

My Stupid Mouth

note these are all ones. I'm stupid, not rich.

As a gamer girl, with the added burden of being an acknowledged erotica writer, I'm quite familiar with the "Tits or get the fuck off" attitude. Girls can't play. Girls can't tank. Wife aggro. "Rape" used to mean "I got my ass kicked by a bunch of pixels."

My new motto is "I don't hate myself enough to listen to GenChat tonight."

And every once in a while I get smacked in the head by someone I like with the "girls are horrible/dumb/bitchy and why why won't they fuck me" line. (Gee, Prince Charming, I fucking wonder!)

So, this weekend, I get into an argument with a friend, because I just can't seem to shut up. If you act like a sexist fucknut around me, I am going to call you out. If you act like a privileged white guy rape apologist, I'm going to call you out, and then drop you off my friends list like you're toxic, because, well, you are.

I come downstairs to get coffee and I rant at my husband, "Why is there no way to actually get through to people? Why is it that I ask someone not to use 'rape' to mean 'something didn't go my way' around me, and I end up in a forty-five minute argument that ends when I ban someone from ever talking to me again? Why do they think they need to justify their thoughtless behavior by becoming worse? Is there some genetic code that prevents people from just saying 'Oh, sorry,' and going on to become a better person? Is it that much of a big deal?"

He didn't really have any answers for me, although he did offer to punch the guy in his stupid mouth.

And while I appreciate that my husband stands up for me, sometimes I really wish it wasn't so fucking necessary. I get better, faster answers from mechanics, teachers, repairmen when I ask my husband to talk to them... nice little girl, hesh yo mouth and go make me a sammich.

Gyah!

So that happened.

(apologies for this 'my best friend is black/I'm not racist' paragraph.)

I have quite a number of friends who are QUILTBAG* including quite a few transgender in various stages of transition / gender corrective surgery.

And one of my friends was talking about being MtF and dealing with women who give unsolicited fashion advice, expecting her to be even more feminine than the standards they hold themselves to. Don't wear stripes, don't wear those shoes, why are you walking around without a purse, girl?

I said that I didn't think unsolicited advice was reserved entirely for trans; I've gotten unasked for advice on fashion, my weight, my hair, my hobbies, the men and women I sleep with, being a mom, not being a mom. If there's a subject out there, chances are good I've gotten some unsolicited opinions about how I'm doing it all wrong. Women are, unfortunately, prone to this sort of nitpickery/rung climbing/pecking order/mommy-drive-by behavior. Hell, I've done it myself. And then I opened my mouth and fell in.

"Welcome to the club."

And I got called out for it. My friend is a woman, she's been in the club for years and she's got her jacket already. I was being condescending and it was uncalled for.

I didn't mean it that way - I'm the sort of asshole who says "Welcome to Virginia" to people who complain about the heat around here, to my husband and my best friend who've been living here for decades. I'm not actually welcoming them anywhere, or including them in some exclusive club. I'm saying "yeah, it sucks. it always has. it probably always will."

I almost typed all that up on my friend's page and then I took a deep breath. Defending my thoughtless words. Getting somewhat angry.

Deep breath.

Wait.

Was I not being the sort of privileged asshat that I was just complaining about not three hours ago?

"Thank you for calling me out. I was being an ass without realizing it. I know it's not your job to handhold me though the conversation and assumptions of what's okay with me might not be what's okay with you. I apologize. It wasn't my intention to be an ass, but it happened and I was wrong. I want to learn to be a better person than I am now. Thank you for being understanding as well. The only way for me to get better, check my privilege as it is, is to be open to learning what I do or say that can be taken wrong. I don't think anyone can ever get everything right, but you do the best you can, leaving a criticism as being what it is, the opportunity to learn, share and understand."

It's not possible to never say something stupid without crawling into a hole, or surrounding yourself only with people who are exactly like you, who come from the same point of privilege. And I'm not telling you what I did because I'm trying to earn some sort of  LGBT cookie (see also feminist cookie). I was an ass.

And sometimes, I need to be reminded of it.

Which is exactly how being an ass, being sorry, and obtaining forgiveness should work.


*QUILTBAG is an acronym. It stands for Queer/Questioning, Undecided, Intersex, Lesbian, Transgender/Transsexual, Bisexual, Allied/Asexual, Gay/Genderqueer. It is meant to be a more inclusive term than GLBT/LGBT and to be more pronounceable (and memorable) than some of the other variations or extensions on the GLBT/LGBT abbreviation.