Free Book!

I have no idea if this will work, but since I have two copies of the very fabulous Liaisons, I thought I'd give it a shot. Maybe no-one will want it. Maybe barely anyone but you, Bertha, reads this blog- and those others that do are probably already in Liaisons.

But if you're not in it, and don't already have it, and aren't Bertha, I'd like to give away a book to you. It's worth having! It's got great stories in it- not just my little efforts! Check it out on my sidebar, if you're wanting to know more.

And all you have to do to get it wending through the post to you is comment, and tell me all about a recent review you've done of a Black Lace book. Any Black Lace book. A review of it anywhere- Amazon, Waterstones, whatever. Did you like that particular BL title? Did you hate it?

Enquiring minds would like to know. And also want to see more Black Lace books reviewed to within an inch of their lives.

I shall pick a winner at random, should anyone choose to comment and...uh...enter. So your review doesn't have to be THE MOST AWESOME REVIEW OF ALL TIME!1! Sometimes a "this rox" is just as good as heavenly shades of night are falling, I feel. And "this sux" stings just as much as what fresh hell is theese. Right?

Mancandy Monday: BJ Novak

Probably because his first name is BJ.

And also because I've been watching The Office obssessively, due to the fifth season being made of treats and win. Ryan the Temp is back to being awesome and not so much of a douche, yeah!

He's kind of weird looking, though. He has giant eyes that look as though they're about to slide off his tiny face, and he's about the size of a large hobbit, or a small elf:

But then as you know, Bertha, I have no qualms about going weird. In fact, weird man love is my preferred state.

P.S. On the writing front, I have stalled. This new thing I'm working on has terrified me and I don't know why. I think it has the potential to be very insular, with not many things going on beyond the hero and heroine's thoughts, feelings and sexual proclivities. Also, I thought the heroine would be more fun, but she's coming out rigid and almost cold. But I suppose it makes a good contrast/comparison with the hero, who falls apart very quickly under her laser-like sex stare.

Not sure if I'm pulling it off. We'll see, I guess.

Mancandy Monday: Sylar

And yes, I know it's cheating. I only just had Zachary Quinto as Spock! But sue me, Bertha- he made the nonsensical rubbish finale of Heroes bearable, just with that weird flush that's sometimes all over his gorgeous cheeks.* And his hair, which is just amazing. Don't just take my word for it- looky here:



And yeah I know that's not Sylar, but I couldn't find a good one of his hair and OOooooOOOoh lookit. So dark. And long. And dark. And thick. And long. And I should stop using the words thick and long now before I fold in on myself like a collapsing star of lust.

If I may, let me direct you to one of the names in my blogroll: Perdiccas. She's there because she writes the most horny gorgeous Sylar fanfiction there is, and I'm not even a massive fan of slash stuff, which she mostly writes. She made me love Sylar even more and convinced me that he's a total horndog, so her work is made of win and sexy.

And if you need more win and sexy in order to convince you that a serial killer needs love too, here it is:

I know that pic's dark and rubbish, but he's laid on the floor looking like he's just been shagged. What was I to do?

And just in case you thought I was going wrong like those women who write love letters to murderers in prison, here is the real reason I fancy Sylar:

Yes, it's yet another nerdy sexually inexperienced but voracious beta guy- Sylar's real self, Gabriel Gray. If there was ever a man who needed my firm hand, he is it. Here is another gratuitous shot of him, where you can see the kind of awesome clothes he wears that make me want to slice them open with scissors:

The editor of Black Lace once said something like- erotica writers often have one big massive weird kink, or some strange taste in something, that keeps kinking out their work. And I thought: that's not me. I don't have one big massive kink. I'm not weird!

But oh no wait. Looks like I do. I like tank tops and shirts and big thick rimmed glasses. Sexual repression and plastic on the furnture. And I just. Can't. Leave it. Alone.

*You know. The ones on his ass.

Proofs

Oh stress! Stressy stressy stress stress.

You know what I hate most about proofs? When you find a sentence that makes you go- oh no! What have they done to my beautiful words?

And then you realise that it was just you who wrote that nonsensical sentence of EVOL.

You know what I love and appreciate most about proofs?

That I actually get to say: this is what I hate about proofs. I am a writer, and get to say that. Praise Jebus.

Oh and also- all the slogging work some brave soul had to do on my nonsensical sentences of EVOL. God bless you, whoever you are.

Mancandy Monday: Spock

Yes, this Mancandy Monday is brought to you in honour of the new Star Trek movie. Yes, I loved it more than having sex while eating marbled praline choc and listening to Goldfrapp. Believe: it's as good as everyone says it is.

Oh and also, it has this dude in it:

Who is so hot that when he pecked Uhura on the lips, I died of sex weeing.

Truth is, I've always loved Spock. I loved Data from ST:TNG, too. I'm not sure what that says about me, mentally, that I loved sexually repressed and/or emotionless robots, but I'm sure there's a cliche about women and the men they love in there, somewhere.

Only with Vulcans and robots, there's a benign peaceful calmness about them, a kindness- not some cold iron-like meanness. And underneath, the waters of Pon Farr and multiple techniques rage...

Oh Spock. Pon Farr me. Pon Farr me until I can't walk tomorrow.

P.S. Holy shit. Just had a reply to my query to numero uno fabuloso agent who I never thought would respond to me in a million years. It wasn't to say the best (and most ridiculous) possible news, but the email was enough to make me shake with disbelief and spill juice all down my front. Just spent an hour composing a reply. Will keep you posted, diary.

Mancandy Mon- Wednesday: Kyle Reese

I wish he'd come across time for me.




Though I don't think I'd like all the terminators that can look like anything running about the place. Unless they also looked like Michael Biehn back when he was hot and not an aging z-movie nobody with a coke and groping problem.

But oh back in the day...he had me burning. He had me burning. He had me burning in the thiiiirdd degreee-eeeee.*

P.S. The novels I was going to (and still am, insanely) send to Adam now fill me with hatred and evol. I want to kill them. They're long and boring and full of head-chatter and there's no sex. What was I thinking? On the upside, my latest WIP (a paranormal about an incubus) is rollicking along like there's no tomorrow! Though I'm sure I'll hate it by the time it comes to sending it somewhere.





*If you know what these song lyrics are about, you've seen Terminator too many times.

More Self-Absorbed Updates

Let's see:

I've had an acceptance for something. But can't share it. In fact, I'm not even sure when I'll be able to share it or even if it's wrong to put "something", because I'm certain you'll know what I mean, Bertha.

But I want to share this vague something so that I can also share a rejection- from Cleis, for their vamp antho. It's the circle of life. The wheel of fortune. One up, one down. Etc. I feel much better about it than I probably should, however, because although it could have been a form reject given to everyone, it seemed personal and there was lots of nice "you made it to the final round of cuts" type talk. Plus I had kind of started to think that my story was so rubbish, it didn't even warrant a response. I know someone else got a reject for it a while back, and my stupid brain was all: oh noooooesss!1!11 Not even good enough for an email to say you're not good enough!

So it was a relief to hear.

I've also submitted something, very stupidly, to Best Women's Erotica. Stupidly because it's being edited by Violet Blue, who is ten types of awesome and intimidates me with her sexy awesomeness, stupid because I think I may not have made the deadline, considering I emailed it at about 1pm on the 30th, stupid because I do not know if I formatted the sucker right, stupid because it's BEST Women's Erotica, for God's sake, and finally stupid because after I'd written the story and quite liked it, I realised that it's sort of about infidelity, which is one of the themes that has to be exceptional to make it in. So I've basically got no chance, but I'm proud of myself for getting back up on my feet after a couple of knocks and going for a big gun like that.

Next up: I want to write something for Samhain's Space Opera call, and maybe something for Total-E-Bound's shapeshifter call. I want to get my proposals off to Adam...I'm just crossing my fingers that he's still interested. For some reason I've got this terrible sinking feeling that I can't shake, like I've done something wrong or am about to do something wrong or this is basically it for my career. I keep seeing one magpie. I f*cking hate magpies.

Keep your fingers crossed for me, Bertha.