Tag Archives: kresley cole

Erotica: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

I’ve been reading a lot of erotica lately. I get on kicks and right now, this is where I am. Let me just say, not all erotica is the same. And anyone who starts throwing up Fifty Shades of Gray as a viable option, just stop reading right now. That is not good erotica and on a baser level, not good writing.

I read a couple of Maya Banks books which have a sweeter edge to them.


I’d previously read a few of her more BDSM oriented books,


so I knew I liked her writing style and voice. But even these had a charming kind of quality. Sometimes I can go for that but I tend to lean toward the hardcore, BDSM erotica. Those are the books that I find satisfying. In my quest for more, I thought I’d try a little Sylvia Day. That was a mistake. I took on Pleasures of the Night. Below is the book cover and the blurb from her website.


In the Twilight between sleep and consciousness, a battle rages between Dream Guardians and Nightmares. Captain Aidan Crossis a legend, as skilled in fulfilling erotic dreams as he is with the glaive that kills his enemies. Women see Aidan as part of their fantasies . . . except Lyssa Bates. Exquisite, desirable, enigmatic Lyssa perplexes this immortal seducer because she sees him as he really is. And as he attempts to unravel her secrets the unthinkable occurs: Aidan Cross falls in love.

Lyssa has been having the most incredible dreams about a man whose blue eyes hold the promise of decadent pleasures and tempting intimacies. And then he appears on her doorstep! This intoxicating stranger is just as irresistible as the man of her dreams . . . but with her surrender there is also grave danger . . .

Because Aidan is on a mission, and the passion that consumes them body and soul could have dire consequences. Loving the mortal woman prophesied to destroy Aidan’s world is not only impossible . . it is forbidden.

This was not good. And I hate saying that because I know how hard it is to put an entire book together, pour your heart and soul into it, and just have it ripped apart. That’s one of the main reasons that I don’t review books on this site. But this was BAAAADDDD. The writing was sub-par. The sentence structure was repetitive and unimaginative. The guy kept calling her “Hot Stuff” which unless it’s 1952, and you’re in a gang that sings and dances to keep your territory, you shouldn’t use that phrase in the modern era. I wasn’t even sure what the hell was going on and then it turns that the dude’s an alien which came out of nowhere. Everyone had an Irish accent and I’m not sure why if they were aliens. There’s a second book in this series but I just don’t care. So, unless someone can really justify Sylvia Day’s other series to me, I think I might be done.

In order to cleanse my palate, I went back to a tried and true author. God help me, I love Kresley Cole and I just know she is a dirty bitch. I Heart_corazón.svg her more for it.

These are scorching hot. There’s a hard edge to the BDSM that I really enjoy. Her characters are well developed, the writing flows in a seamless manner, and her dudes are HOT! Not only that, her guys are particularly dominate, which I adore.

So, now I’m looking for suggestions. I’m not that knowledgeable about the erotica genre in general so if anyone knows of any good books, I’d like to hear it.



I listen to quite a few audiobooks. In fact, I might listen to more books per year than I actually read. Mostly, because I can listen to them in the car and at work which makes my work day much more enjoyable. I can’t listen to music at work. I have a tendency to sing along and no one wants that. Really, no one wants that. It’s weird. Plus, I was never really into music. I like music. I could never just sit and listen to it. I always had to be doing something else. That’s why audiobooks makes so much sense. And with the ability to download the content to my phone (instead of the bulky CD’s pack you would need in years past) it’s so much easier. My Audible library is ridiculous and quite frankly Amazon has too much of my money. Actually, there are a couple of authors that have all my money because I own their books in three formats (physical books, ebooks, and audiobooks). Thanks Kresley Cole and Ilona Andrews! No really. Thanks! I want to be you when I grow up some day. I’m 38, by the way.

The flip side is that audiobooks can also be very very bad, independent of the book itself depending on the narrator. This is a performance and quite frankly, if you can’t do an accent, don’t try. I’m listening to something now that just delivers everything in a monotone and has the worst Irish accent I’ve ever heard. Lucky Charms Leprechaun type accent. It’s horrendous and I’m not sure I want to listen to it. I’m in it to win it though. I’ve listened to two hours and it’s only eight hours long. I might as well finish.

As we’ve said before, I have a problem with books. Is there a BA (books anonymous) group I can join? Do I even want to?

Nope! And I have zero shame about that.



This is two weeks in a row that I’m getting a blog out on time. How ’bout that!

Recap blog #2

Ross and I recently got back from the Romantic Times Conference and a pseudo vacation in New Orleans. The humidity was ridiculous and it was only May. I sweated through every piece of clothing I brought which was…disgusting. I can’t imagine living there in the middle of July. I don’t even want to think about it.

Anyway, we went to the aquarium, cause that’s what we do. Aquariums and Zoos. I finally broke Ross of going to Natural History Museums because how many stuffed sheep and rocks can one person look at. But I digress. At the aquarium they had an albino alligator.



Now, this is evidently a thing because not only was there an albino alligator at the aquarium, there were two at the zoo. Why? That’s my only question. Why? It’s not a Yeti for fuck’s sake. It’s a genetic mutation. I would like to point out that there were the most adorable sea otters at the aquarium which I could watch all day. Otters are hours and hours of fun.

We stayed on the edge of the French Quarter so we could practically walk everywhere which was great. However, the Quarter and especially Bourbon street get old quick. There are only so many bars situated like ice cream stands down the street, selling slushy drinks with minimal cheap liquor that a single person can take. Here’s a question. Can someone please explain to me why people feel its perfectly fine to leave trash (empty plastic cups and beer bottles/cans) on window sills and the sidewalk when there are trash cans on every fucking corner? At some point, I just couldn’t take it any more and started picking it up and throwing it away. Ross begged me to stop.

But it’s also a place where shit like this just happens in the middle of the week…


We did all the touristy stuff like going to Jackson Square and taking a cemetery tour20140510_092030

At some point I took a picture of the drainage trench in the quarter and Ross stopped, asking me what I was doing. I told him I was taking a picture of the trench.

He asked, “Why?”

I said, “Cause! Couldn’t you imagine it filled with blood? Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

He shook his head and started to walk away. “You know,” he said, “sometimes you scare me.”

Ha! I guess my mind just works in a different way. The gruesome, urban fantasy author part of me loves that kind of shit.

We did go to Cafe Du Monde and had some wonderful coffee and beignets. It was totally worth it. However, there was so much powdered sugar on those things that the entire place looked like a coke den. It was like scarface had set up shop, cause the white powder was all over the floor.



I actually got Ross to go to a plantation (I’ve included a picture of the only plantation he would go to, since it didn’t down play slavery. Me…I just wanted to see a pretty house.). Here’s a picture of him in front of the giant cyprus tree at the plantation. Isn’t he cute?




Once the convention started, it was all down to business. Ross was awesome! He helped me carry shit, he passed out excerpts for me, and went into the giant book fair to get author signatures for me while I was on the other side, signing books myself. That’s because my husband is awesome and loves me. I have no idea why. LOL!

I did have a little bit of a fangirl moment at a panel. Kim Harrison (who’s husband is awesome and I might want to be his new best friend), Kresley Cole, and Larissa Ione were all on a panel together. I won’t say that I squealed out loud but I might have shoved some smaller woman out of my way to say hello. I’m not ashamed. This picture sucks (because it is a well established fact that I cannot take pictures of people – with the exception of Ross. No other pictures of human beings turn out. Wonder why that is???) but it does prove I was there and they were there.


The Best Laid Plans

The Golden Anidae is only 9 days away so here’s a freebie! This little short takes place from Dean’s perspective over  a scene in Midnight Ash. MidnightAsh2_850This consists of strong language and has not been professionally edited. Read at your own risk.

The Best Laid Plans

“There’ll have to be a change of plans,” Pat said as if his perfect little world wasn’t falling apart.

I understood the slight tick at the corner of Pat’s eye.  It was almost imperceptible but I knew Pat, knew what to look for.  Pat wanted to kill something, anything that moved to keep the Blushing Death safe.

“What plan?” the dangerous little mouse squeaked.

Danny glanced over at her with guilt written all over his face.  Stupid pup. She could eat Danny alive.  Her face flushed and the soft grey of her eyes swirled with anger, tugging at my insides.  The room filled with her, the soft floral, feminine scent mixed with the rich spiciness of her anger.  My cock hardened along my thigh as her scent permeated my brain, registering something deep in my synapses that I didn’t understand.  My wolf wanted to leap out to meet her, to run with her.  I fought to hold back my beast and keep control.  I had reacted to her like this from the first and it took everything I had not to rub up against her and mark her as mine.

Dear God, what is she?

She glanced over at me, her grey eyes churning with a secret. With a wicked smile on her face, that glint in her eye was as if she’d imagined something horrible in her mind and got satisfaction from it.  I liked that devious and predatory grin.  My wolf knew it for what it was, dangerous, protective, and mine.

Pat reached out and touched her, sliding his cold, dead hand against her cheek.  Something inside me wanted to rip that hand off. It didn’t make sense. Pat was my friend, had been for decades.

The Blushing Death jumped at his touch and my wolf was glad of it. Quicker than either I or Pat saw, she’d drew her knife.  The Blushing Death would never be a victim. She’d kill everyone and everything before she let that happen and I was glad of it. Humans didn’t live long in our world but then again, she wasn’t merely human.

Pat reached out, slow and cautious, touching her again. She dropped the knife but I could see the reluctance in her gaze.  I wished it was my hand on her cheek, wished I was comforting her.

Damn it!

Janey . . . I missed Janey.  That was all. I was lonely, so lonely.  Dahlia Sabin wasn’t mine.  She was Pat’s. My wolf growled deep in my being, arguing with my brain. She may be Pat’s but she would never be Danny’s.  That much, I knew for certain.  No matter how much that boy wanted it to be true, she would never be Danny’s.

“There’s something else?” Pat asked her.

“Later,” she said, turning to face the rest of the room with her shoulders back and her chin high.  That woman was every bit an Alpha and my cock throbbed at the thought of testing her.

“What’s the change in plan?  What’s the plan period?” she snapped, sliding that long silver blade back into it sheath.  I could read the tension in her body and something in me ached to ease it.  She caressed the blade as she would a lover, taking comfort from the weapon and her own sense of determination.  The Blushing Death was no shrinking violet and my cock twitched, imagining her fingers wrapped around my hard length, squeezing my shaft with the same tenderness.  My beast paced back and forth inside me like the caged animal it was, growling through my mind.  I was stronger than this.  I was stronger than whatever was tugging at my chest and riling up my beast.

“Alex and I had intended to confront the board in the Lebensblut New York offices to come up with a compromise,” Pat said with more words than needed. Too many words could get a guy in trouble. “I’d hoped we could stop this before it started.  Make amends somehow.  Now, I’m afraid we’re too late. We’ll make an appeal but I’m afraid that Dahlia needs to be protected.”

She was stiff, her hands balled into fists at her sides as if she wanted to punch everyone in the room. I couldn’t blame her.  Pat was heavy handed but he knew what he was doing.  She took a deep breath and forced her shoulders to relax.

“Okay.  I’ll need protection,” she agreed.

Before I could hold it in, I laughed.  Out loud. The raucous sound was so foreign, I startled myself.  Pat’s eyes were wider than dinner plates and I could almost see the wheels turning in her head.  She’d surprised everyone.  Including  me.

She and Pat both glared at me but I didn’t care.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed.   It felt good.  Better than I remembered. Who was this woman? My heart raced in my chest and what I could only describe as fear churned in my gut. She’d made me feel things in the last five minutes that I hadn’t felt . . . ever. Not even with Janey.

“Is something amusing, Dean?” Pat hissed.  His jaw was tight and his tone clipped as he glared at me.  I didn’t care.  I enjoyed the light feeling in my chest and even the fear.

“You said she was unpredictable,” I answered through strangled laughter and sunk back into the couch, relaxing.  I liked her more than I knew was good for me.


Am I the only one not concerned with fame?

I don’t care that you’re famous.

If you’re an ass, you’re just a famous ass and I don’t have time to deal with that.

If you have fans (and don’t get me wrong, I’m totally jealous), but at least pay attention to them and don’t treat them like their shit. If they want to take a picture with you, smile and say “sure, that would be great!” Also, don’t hide who you are. If you started out as self-published, acknowledge it and embrace it. Be proud of where you came from. Yes, now you have a very VERY lucrative publishing contract but own up. You started out as fan-fiction, stole someone else’s characters and wrote a very subpar set of novels that the general masses adore. Own it!

Maybe its me but I can’t respect a person who doesn’t acknowledge who and what they are, the work they’ve done, and tries to be something they’re not.

As an author, I strive to be better every day, to make my characters as real for my readers as I can. I’m not going to lie. I’ve written some shit in my day, unabashed shit but I know that and acknowledge it. I learn from it and and develop not only as an author but as a person taking the good with the bad. I feel that most of us who are in the business for a while want to be proud of our work and we understand that rejection, development, and tears are all part of the process. If you catapult to stardom without the benefit of failure, you lose something. You lose the ability to be humble, thankful, and grow.

I realize this is a little late considering that RT was in April but better late than never…right?


Hi kiddies! I know I’m a day late. Nothing exciting happened in the last week but we are having a yard sale on Saturday so there’s the potential for alot of humorous incidents. In the mean time, I’m posting a little snippet from Midnight Ash. Its told from Dean’s point of view. This has not been professionally edited or reviewed so READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. If you want to read these little snippets earlier. Join my facebook group Damsel. Well, here goes.


I didn’t want her here. If Danny brought her into the Pack, Dahlia Sabin, the Blushing Death, would be a constant reminder of what I would never have. I sat on the bar, stiff, my body riddled with tension as I watched everything. Watched her.

Jackson and Kurt circled each other but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She stood just off to the side, rigid and at attention – a quiet intimidation in the background of a room full of dangerous beasts. Seeming like she was completely at ease, her hand rested on her cocked hip. I knew better. She had her hand ready for the draw. A knife was strapped at her back beneath the coat. I could smell the oil from the blade and had seen a glimpse of it in the darkened club. I could also smell her. The light floral scent of a shampoo or lotion mixed with her own natural scent was earthy and delicious. Grinding my teeth harder, I forced that smell from my nose.

She flung her golden blonde hair over her shoulder, out of her face and my cock jerked. What’s wrong with me? Danny’s my Beta, my friend, and a nice kid. More importantly, Dahlia Sabin was off limits. Pat didn’t share and neither did I.

Look at him! Coddling her. Trying to keep her out of harm’s way. Standing in front of her like she was weak.

The Blushing Death didn’t need coddled. She wasn’t weak or submissive. By the sidelong glances and irritated tension in her shoulders, I knew she’d had enough. She ground her teeth and the muscles in her neck tightened, strained. The angrier she got, the more her scent filled my nose. I wanted to make her angry and watch those grey eyes flash with emotion.

She turned on Danny, her fingers twitching as she fought not to draw that knife. Danny gazed down at her with a boyish, carefree smile I envied. It had been a long time since I’d been carefree. The Pack had needed me. Janey had needed me. When she’d been killed,I thought I’d lose his mind. But . . . the Pack had needed me.

I glanced away. Janey was gone. This woman could never, would never be mine. No matter how much I wanted her. Something deep inside me hummed with satisfaction every time she was near and that scared the shit out of me.

“Dahlia!” Danny bellowed and my ears perked up.

She sailed across the room as if she’d been shot from a cannon. My heart stopped as her limp body slammed into the floor. I fought not to jump from the bar and run to her. Gripping the edge of the bar, I squeezed until the wood cracked beneath my fingers. She wasn’t mine. She would never be mine. I had to remember that or everything I’d built would come tumbling down.

Midnight Ash Book Cover
Midnight Ash Book Cover