First Sale Friday: Cassandra Carr

Hello!

It's been a while since I blogged or had a First Sale Friday but I thought I would start off with a bang (so to speak). My guest today is fellow Loose-Id author Cassandra Carr, whose debut book, Talk To Me, just came out.

Isn't that purty?!?!

Cassandra Carr lives in Western New York with her husband, Inspiration, and her daughter, Too Cute for Words. When not writing she enjoys watching hockey and hanging out on Twitter. Her debut novel, Talk to Me, was released by Loose Id on March 22, 2011. For more information about Cassandra, check out her website at http://www.booksbycassandracarr.com, "like" her Facebook fan page at http://www.facebook.com/AuthorCassandraCarr or follow her on Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/Cassandra_Carr.

HS: So tell us, how long have you been writing?

CC: I’ve been writing my whole life, but I’ve only been writing to get published since 2008, and went full-time around the middle of 2009.

HS: What attracted you to your romance?

CC: The idea of being seduced by a voice. I just thought it was a really cool concept.

HS: How many manuscripts had you completed before you sold?

CC: Talk to Me was my second manuscript. My first, Should’ve Known Better, is still being considered by a couple of publishers.

HS: Lucky you! Tell us about the day (the minute, the second) you got "The Call" (or The Email). What was your initial reaction?

Well, I’m going to sound like the most boring person on the planet, but after a brief “Squeee!” I contacted the other two publishers who had Talk to Me to tell them I had an offer. About a half-hour after I got The E-mail I got a rejection for Should’ve Known Better, and my world righted itself. ;-)

HS: The universe giveth and it taketh away... You must have celebrated at least.

My hubby took me out the next night for a nice dinner to celebrate.

HS: Gotta love the DHs! Was there anyone whom you wanted you rub your news in his/her nose?

No. I try to be a positive person – I actually describe myself as “relentlessly optimistic”. I’m sure it’s annoying to others at times, but it’s served me well.

HS: You all are too nice for me! ;-) Enough about that, though. Let's get to the good stuff. Tell us about your new release!

Radio producer Jamie MacMahon is in over her head with ex-hockey player-turned host Drew Milan. She’s attracted to the man who earned the nickname “the Beast” during his playing days from the moment they meet, but he’s her boss and she loves her new job. She’s made plenty of mistakes with men and loathes the thought of being yet another plaything for Drew, a man who sleeps with women but doesn’t date them.

Drew doesn’t want to lose a great producer and knows Jamie deserves a real relationship, but can’t stay away from the sizzling chemistry they create every time they’re together. Jamie’s insecurities and the very real prospect of having to leave a great job if this thing doesn’t work out, coupled with Drew’s fears about opening his heart and the possibility of losing his first competent producer clash.

Excerpt:

By the time the show ended and Jamie thought about how long it would take her to shut everything down for the night, then hustle herself off to the subway station and take the three different trains to get to her apartment all the way out in Brooklyn, she was truly afraid she would self-combust.

Drew ran out of the place like a bomb scare had been called in, so at least she didn’t have to worry about him anymore. Nonetheless, Jamie waited a good ten minutes past when she was finished with her nightly duties, then made her way back to the small production room where she and Drew had recorded his promo earlier. She knew a copy of it would still be stored on the computer in the room, and after scooting in and shutting the door, she booted it up. She told herself she needed to check it one more time before giving it to the station manager tomorrow, but who was she kidding? She needed to hear him but in a safe environment. Where she couldn’t do anything stupid. She needed his voice to weave inside her, through her, like a drug.

The rough yet strangely melodic sounds of Drew’s voice drifted over Jamie as she leaned back in her chair. Closing her eyes, she pictured his face in her mind -- his to-die-for lips traveling down the length of her body, just as her hand was doing at the moment; his navy blue eyes, focused only on her as he brought her to orgasm… She reached the button of her jeans and eased them open, propping her feet up on the desk.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this at work, but no one was around, and if she didn’t do something to assuage this ache, she was likely to jump him the next time she saw him. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. Fantasizing about the man was one thing; straddling his powerful, muscular thighs in the studio chair and offering herself to him was another. That thought brought another rush of heat to her pussy, and she moaned. She needed serious help.

At first she just teased herself a little, rubbing outside her panties, but it soon became too much. She needed relief too badly to continue to torment herself. As Drew’s voice continued to assail her from all directions in the small, windowless room, she pushed her hand down inside the waistband of her panties and through her curls until she found the damp center of her sex. The sweet smell of her musk wafted up to tickle her nose, arousing her even more.

Twirling her fingers as much as the constricting position allowed her to, she imagined they were Drew’s tongue instead. She let out a plaintive moan as the picture caused her juices to flow even more, soaking her fingers. Plunging two of them into her pussy, she pressed her thumb on her clit, craving the direct stimulation. Jamie gasped as shock waves of pleasure shot from her pussy through her clit and up her spine, her back arching. And through it all, Drew’s voice urged her to new heights.

HS: WHEW!!! How did you know I liked the naughty stuff? Sounds awesome! When can we get our greedy hands on it?

CC: Talk to Me released on March 22^nd, so you can get your greedy hands on it right now!

HS: Where? Where? Where?

CC: Talk to Me is currently available through my publisher, Loose Id, and http://www.loose-id.com/Talk-to-Me.aspx. It should be on Amazon within a month or so.

HS: What are you working on now?

CC: I am just about ready to turn in a holiday-themed BDSM novella to Loose Id, and after that I’m writing an MS targeted to Harlequin Desire. I also have a non-erotic hockey romance on submittal (Should’ve Known Better – mentioned above), and a trilogy of bull rider books also out on submittal.

HS: OOOH! Nice (or should I say naughty!). What advice do you have for "Soon to be Published" Writers?

CC: Write, write, write. I have seen a noticeable improvement in my writing with every single manuscript I finish. Also, about finishing…to be a writer, you not only have to start writing a book, you have finish writing it. A million half-baked projects get you nowhere. And don’t query too early, no matter how much you want to or how sick of the MS you are. Be totally sure it’s ready for submitting before you dare send it out.

HS: So now for some fun stuff! Boxers or briefs?

CC: Briefs – why hide a great ass in a pair of baggy boxers?

HS: Really? I think you're the first to say that. But you can't hide a great ass under a bushel... Who's your ideal hero?

CC: I consider the hero from my first book, Should’ve Known Better, to be pretty much perfect. It’s like I took every attribute I love in a man and coalesced them all together to form Sebastian. I’m actually jealous that my heroine landed him!

HS: I sometimes hate my heroines. They get all the good men! What about facial hair? Chest hair? Yes? No? For your man, of course!

CC: Well, my hubby has a goatee, as well as copious hair on other parts of his body, so I’ll say YAY facial and bodily hair. Just try to keep it neatly trimmed, gentlemen.

There you go! Thanks, Cassandra, for visiting Harmless Smut!

First Sale Friday: Wren Boudreau

Welcome to another installment of First Sale Friday. Today, Harmless Smut is pleased to welcome Wren Boudreau. Wren is a fellow Loose Id author that I met on the boards and begged to have on the blog.

HS: First of all, thanks for visiting Harmless Smut!

WB: THANKS for having me!!!!

HS: First of all, how long have you been writing?

WB: I guess I've been writing on and off since I was a kid. In terms of writing, um, professionally, "Ice Cream on the Side" is my very first book.

HS: LOVE that title! What attracted you to writing romance?

WB: I discovered m/m three years ago or so. Kind of stumbled upon it and wow - I was hooked immediately. Something about the dynamics of two men in a relationship really spoke to me as a reader, and I devoured a lot of books. I experienced the wonderful spectrum of quality that exists in these books. Periodically I’d say to myself, “Hey, I could do better than this.” (Then I’d read something by Josh Lanyon, or Jordan Castillo Price, or JL Langley, and I’d say, “Nah. It’s not that easy. I’ll just keep reading.”)

Then in late 2008 I stumbled across a contest a publisher was having. I literally wrote the book in a month’s time (my own private nanowrimo). Every entry was supposed to get editorial feedback, which I thought was great, since I didn’t have any beta readers or critique partners and lord knew I couldn’t ask my rl friends to review because holy crap the book has man on man sex in it! I just looked at it as a chance to see if I could write something others might want to read.

Well, I never heard back from the publisher, except for the automated we-got-your-document response. So I wallowed in bitterness and anger for a while then segued into self-pity and finally acceptance that I probably suck as a writer. A few months later, don’t know what possessed me, but I opened up the story file and re-read my book and thought, “This needs a lotta work. But it isn’t too awful.” So I revised. And sent the synopsis and three chapters to one of my favorite publishers, Loose Id.

Lo and behold! They wanted to see the whole dang thing! And after they read it, well, wonder of wonders, they wanted to publish it. And, la, here it is!

HS: That's awesome. I also got my big break from a contest. Loose Id rocks! How many manuscripts had you completed before you sold?

WB: Just the one. Neat-o, huh?

HS: That's flippin' amazing! Double congrats! Tell us about the day (the minute, the second) you received "The Call" (or email). What was your initial reaction?

WB: I’d been waiting…and waiting…a couple of emails back and forth with the editor I was working with at Loose Id gave me the sense that I would hear from management soon. One part of me felt pretty confident, because the editor had thought it good enough to send on up the ladder. Another part of me felt very unsure and kept coming up with little pep talks: It’ll be okay, maybe you’ll get some insights into what needs to change. There are other publishers to try. If you get rejected it’s not you personally they’re rejecting. Et cetera.

My husband and I were off on a cruise! So I had my laptop with me (‘cause y’know I had to be able to keep in touch with my college-age son in case of emergency, right?) and sure enough, while cruising off the coast of the U.K. I received the email that said “Welcome to Loose Id!” I read that a couple times to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Then I did the “hey guess what” thing with my husband. Did the happy dance. Smiled a lot.

HS: That's a great story! What did you do to celebrate after?

WB: We went to dinner at the nicest restaurant on the ship - the one where you have to pay extra. Had Asti Spumante (my fav) and talked about how cool it was that my book was going to be published.

HS: Nice way to celebrate. Anyone whom you wanted to rub their nose in it?

WB: Oh, it sounds so petty, but yeah, that first publishing company that never followed up. I got over that quickly, though.

HS: Success will do that for you! Tell us about your current release.

WB: “Ice Cream on the Side” was released on Dec. 8. It’s on the Loose Id website: http://www.loose-id.com/Ice-Cream-on-the-Side.aspx

Blurb:

Dylan Forest is really pretty happy. He’s a successful architect, lives in a great little town, and has good friends. More than ten years ago, Dylan’s first boyfriend betrayed him. Since then he’s learned to appreciate men briefly and intensely, with no lingering complications. But Dylan finds himself wanting something more with Michael Gilmore, the new art teacher in town.

Michael moved to Raven Pass to get away after a bad break-up. He just wants to teach and he’s got an exhibit of his own work coming up. He doesn’t expect to find himself attracted to anyone just yet. He has to give up his fear so he can explore a possible relationship with Dylan.

The guys manage to get past their insecurities and into bed, where they find out just how compatible they are. Before their romance gains momentum, however, life gets complicated. An old dead body and a new murder are both connected to Dylan’s love life, and it appears that Michael will be next.

What’s going on? And can Dylan and Michael stop it before it stops them?

Excerpt:

The pile from the backpack was an interesting assortment of things: tins of charcoals and pastels, pencils of different sizes, crumpled papers, an orange, several sketch pads, an iPod, headphones, tubes of acrylics, a six-inch wooden manikin, and a notebook computer.

The whole thing reminded me of Mary Poppins’s carpetbag. “If I stuck my arm in your backpack, would I pull up a hat rack?”

He didn’t bat an eye. “No, but you might get a floor lamp.”

Michael used the computer to make notes and write an outline of our plan. His fingers flew over the keyboard. When I tried to think, my eyes were drawn to his hands, and thoughts of architecture were replaced with thoughts of what those hands would feel like… I had to get up and move around the room in order to speak coherent sentences.

Eventually, my stomach pointed out that I hadn’t eaten yet by growling loud enough to be heard in New Jersey. Michael stopped typing and tilted his head to listen.

“Sorry,” I said. “Snack time?”

“Good idea.” He closed the laptop, set it off to the side, and stretched his arms toward the ceiling. My mouth watered when his stretch exposed a strip of skin at the bottom of his shirt. I turned rapidly toward the fridge and stuck my head in, hoping the cold would wash all the way to my cock.

“Do you feel like veggies and dip, or chips and salsa?” I yelled from the bowels of my Amana.

“Definitely chips and salsa.” His voice sounded from right next to me, and I nearly gave myself a concussion when I jumped. My scowl was lost on him; he only grinned at me when I straightened up. I handed him the salsa, and he poured it in a bowl while I dumped the chips into a basket. We each grabbed another beer and returned to the table, sitting at the far end away from the mass of papers strewn about. Michael turned his chair to face out toward the deck. Our conversation turned from our project to other topics.

I discovered, among other things, that he was originally from western Pennsylvania, had two sisters and a brother, graduated from my alma mater -- Penn State -- with a major in art education and a minor in graphic design, and at twenty-six, was six years younger than me. He learned that I was born not far from right here, my mother died when I was ten, my favorite thing to do was design buildings and landscapes, and gardening was a stress-relieving hobby.

I was just about to ask him about the kind of music he liked when I noticed a glop of salsa at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got some, um, salsa, there.” I tried to point without pointing, to, you know, be polite.

“Where?” He rubbed at the wrong side of his mouth.

“No, the other side.”

He wiped a spot on his cheek. “Did I get it?”

“Here,” I said and scooped the offending sauce off with my thumb, which somehow then ended up in his mouth.

I watched with fascination as he sucked gently, pulling the digit in, swirling his tongue around it, his eyes closed as if this were the best thing he’d ever tasted. My other fingers rested on his face, feeling the suction through his cheek. He pulled back and opened his eyes; I got lost in them for a minute. When I moved my hand to the back of his neck and drew him to me, he gave no resistance. Our lips met, flavored with salt and salsa. We shared a series of little kisses, tasting each other gently.

He had turned his chair around, and we sat facing each other. His hands rested on my biceps, and my hands slid to his chest -- where they noticed that Michael did have more interesting piercings.

The soft little kisses grew stronger. The more I had, the more I wanted.

Without moving his lips away, Michael said, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.”

“So kiss me,” I mumbled back.

I caught his tongue with mine and sucked on it, a hopeful foreshadowing of events to follow. He pulled on my bottom lip with his teeth. The frenzy meter ratcheted up, our lips and tongues exploring, probing, claiming. I felt his hand in my hair, and my own hand twisted his shirt. Breathing became a secondary need, behind tasting. When air proved to be necessary, we slid back into short, small kisses. It didn’t take long for me to feel refreshed, and I plunged back into kissing him deeply, rolling my tongue across and under his teeth. He groaned when I held his face between my palms and bit lightly at his lips. He tried to take back control, but I couldn’t get enough of tasting him.

His tug on my hair pulled me away enough to look in his eyes. “Dylan,” he whispered.

“Shh,” I said. “A moment.” We were still, just breathing, and I could feel the reverberation of each kiss.

He gave me that moment; then he leaned back. “Wow.” His hands slipped away from my shoulders as he stood up. He walked to the sliding glass door and leaned against the jamb, staring out across the hills. This did not seem like a good sign to me. I didn’t know if I should follow or back away. I opted for the middle road, stood up but stayed near my chair.

He turned toward me.

“I…that was…” He shook his head. “I’ve never been kissed like that.”

“That makes two of us. Why are you over there?”

He looked out the window again. “I’m overwhelmed. This wasn’t what I expected.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Neither. Both. I’m not sure.” He crossed the room to where his belongings were piled. “I have to go… I need to think.”

“Michael, no. I want you to stay.” This time I did follow him, stopping just within reach.
He threw his things into the backpack. I grabbed his hands to hold them still. “Listen. I maybe didn’t do this right. I moved too fast.” He stared up at me, waiting. “I like you, and I don’t want to screw this up.” I thought about the different men I’d been with and how everything with them happened so fast because there was so little time for it. I realized I was walking new ground, here. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

He clenched my hands. “No…don’t…I think I scared myself. You remember I told you about the relationship I’d been in?”

I nodded.

“When I left, I promised myself that I would not jump into another one. I can’t do things part way.” He let go of me, and his pacing emphasized the words he spoke quietly. “Tim -- my ex -- and I, we were together almost a year, and I completely misread him. I was so excited about our being together -- I was looking at houses and furniture, but he was looking at other men. Our arguments left me realizing that I expected too much -- made too many big plans. Tim said some cruel things to me, but he made me think about not only ours, but other relationships I’d been in. I leap too quickly. I can’t trust myself.” He stopped moving, shrugged, and gave a little unhappy laugh. “My mom used to tell me I was too passionate about, well, everything. My brother used to tell me I was a nervous breakdown waiting to happen.”

He suddenly looked so very young. I felt like a lecher. I wanted to rewind back to where we were building a friendship. Before I could say anything, he continued.

“I thought I’d learned my lesson, but you were so unexpected. And it threw me.”

I’ve been called a lot of things, but “unexpected” was a new one. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

His pacing brought him to the opposite side of the table. He leaned on it. “I never expected that I would find anyone like you in this place. You’re smart. Funny. Kind. Gorgeous. I’ve been thinking about that kiss for so long, I was sure the reality would never live up to the fantasy. I was wrong. It was better.”

I stood speechless. No one had ever said anything like that to me. I replayed his words in my head a few times so I wouldn’t forget them.

A sigh came from deep in his chest as he shoved his belongings into his bag. “It scares the shit out of me.” He zipped up the backpack and headed to the front door.

I tried to shake off the fog that was swirling around my head and stopped him with my hand on his arm. “Wait. Can’t we work through this together?”

“I just need a little time. I don’t want to go into anything blinded by my fantasies. And I don’t want to ruin something with exploding baggage before it begins.” A look of fear passed over his face. “Oh, God, have I ruined it already?”

I was too flummoxed to answer anything with conviction. “No, no, you haven’t ruined it. I think we both have baggage we need to unpack.”

Michael gave me a shaky smile and reached up to kiss me on the cheek. As he opened the door and stepped out, he said, “I will call you. I know that sounds stupid, but I promise I will.”

Before I could think of anything else to say, he was gone.

HS: Whew! Excuse me for a sec...

I'm back! Tell me you're working on something now!

WB: I’m in the very, very beginning stages of a new m/m romance. It may have shape-shifters of the wolfy kind. A tortured alpha male, a sweet beta boy. I don’t want to say more because I have learned that what you start out with may not be what you end up with!

HS: Wolves? I'm in! Any advice for the "Soon to be Published"?

WB: Read. A lot. Get a sense of what you like and what you don’t like. Read reviews of books in the genre you’re going to write in. Notice the differences of opinion between reviewers and hone in on the constructive criticisms they offer. I never really thought too much about why I liked or didn’t like a book until I started reading reviews. The really good reviewers give valid, well-thought-out reasons for their opinions, which made me look closer at the books I was reading and gave me new insights. Start writing. I am a first-class procrastinator, which is why it took a contest to get me moving - that provided the deadline I needed. So if you need one of those, make something up! Just write.

HS: Great advice! Now for some fun stuff! Tell us something about you that would surprise us.

WB: I am seriously shy. In my senior year of high school I was in a very small seminar class. Near the end of the year, in the midst of a discussion about our particular personalities, one of my classmates leaned toward me and said, “All this time I thought you were stuck up! And it’s just that you’re shy!” It suddenly was clear to me why I’d had such a hard time making friends. *sigh* I’m not much better at it now, but at least I know what’s going on! And on the interwebz, nobody knows you’re shy…or whatever.

HS: Gotta love the internet! Boxers or briefs on your man?

WB: Why limit oneself?

HS: Good point! Who's your ideal hero?

WB: I’ve always (well, at least since 1977) been partial to Han Solo. I still swoon if I happen to come across the very first Star Wars.

HS: If you could have sex with one celebrity, who would it be?

WB: Hugh Jackman…wait…George Clooney…. Alexander Skarsgard….hold on…Gilles Marini…no..Ryan Reynolds. Oh crap, I’ll have to try them all. I’ll get back to you.

HS: What's the funniest or most interesting line you've ever read in a book or written?

WB: There are a bajillion in Jim Butcher’s Harry Dresden books.

Here’s just one, from “Death Masks”:

Susan: “Elevator?”

Harry: “Stairs, if they have them. If someone shoots at us on stairs, we can scream and flail around a lot more."

HS: Good one! Facial hair or no? Chest hair? No hair on any part of the body (your partner, of course, not you)?

WB: Glad you made it clear this wasn’t about me! Not super keen on facial hair, but a closely cropped bit is okay. Some body hair is acceptable, but not furry (unless he’s a shifter and he’s…shifted) because then when you get to the licking part the loose hairs stick to your tongue and then there is that awkward moment where you have to fish hairs out of your mouth or worse yet they get caught in your throat. But long hair (on his head, I mean) trumps all. I am so a sucker for the long-haired boy. *Sigh*

HS: Great answers! Thanks, Wren, for joining us here at Harmless Smut!

What are you waiting for, readers? GO BUY!!

Later Gators!

Guest Blogger: Cari Quinn

Hello and welcome to First Sale Friday! Given my luck with this blog thing lately, it's probably not wise to do this on Friday the 13th. Triskadecophobia is a bitch but we'll soldier on.

Blogging today is Cari Quinn, friend of the Smut and debut author. Cari Quinn wrote her first story - a bible parable - in 2nd grade, much to the delight of the nuns at her Catholic school. Once she saw the warm reception that first tale garnered, she was hooked. She attempted her first romance in junior high, long before she'd ever read one. Writing what she knew always took a backseat to what she wanted to know, and that still holds true today. Cari's genres of choice include contemporary, romantic comedy, romantic suspense, urban fantasy and paranormal. Recently she discovered erotic romance. Oh, how far she's come…

Visit her at www.cariquinn.blogspot.com

Her novella, Full Disclosure came out last week from The Wilder Rose Press. Check out this cover!

SEXXXY RIGHT!

Anyhoo, let's welcome Cari!

HS: How long have you been writing?

CQ: Hmm, since I could read? All my life, really, but I got “serious” probably about four years ago.

HS: What attracted you to your romance?

CQ: That I seemed to be good at it, LOL. I always liked spicier books, but not erotic romance per se. My CPs, Helen Hardt (I’m pretty sure you know her) and Tara Leigh Coons were actually the ones who helped build my confidence toward writing more boundary pushing stuff. Now I’m not sure I could write a “tame” love scene. I’ve come a long way from the bible parables I wrote in second grade…

HS: It's funny how good we get at writing about sex. Maybe it has to do with our naughty personalities. Or maybe that's just me... How many manuscripts had you completed before you sold?

CQ: Technically three, though 2 of them revolved around the same characters. I keep trying until I get it right. That same book, now titled Baring It All, is at the shop for yet another paint and lube job. Let’s hope the third time is the charm.

HS: 80% of writing is revising. Tell us about the day (the minute, the second) you got ‘The Call’ (or The Email). What was your initial reaction?

CQ: I got “the email” on August 18, 2009. I couldn’t believe it had finally happened. I’d been writing for a while and had gotten used to identifying myself as a unpublished writer. To hear that someone actually liked my work was a bit disconcerting (in a very good way!)

HS: I know what you mean. I felt like Sally Field at the Oscars. "You like me, you really like me!" LOL! What did you do to celebrate afterward?

CQ: Well, I was on vacation from the day job, so I did what a lot of women do to celebrate – I went shopping!

HS: Isn't that always the case! Anyone whom you wanted to rub your news in his/her nose?

CQ: There’s a couple coworkers who’d doubted me that I wanted to crow to, but I resisted. I knew I’d reached a goal (strange thing about goals…reach one and a dozen more crop up in its place!) and that was enough for me.

HS: Another person with more restraint than I. Tell us about your current release. (Please include an excerpt!)

CQ: Here’s the blurb: Thirty-eight-year-old divorcee Holly Burrows has had enough of battery-operated love. Prompted by an ad left at her law office, she investigates Hunk Du Jour, a website designed to foster ‘adult connections’. After weeks of sexy emails and phone calls with surf hunk Kent, she's ready to test their chemistry in person. But first she has to get through lunch with her colleague Alex, a man with a brain as agile as his body. When their consultation ends with a bang, she barely remembers the man she'd lined up for dessert. Now she thinks she's juggling two hot young guys. How can she choose between her two gorgeous cubs – and why do they remind her of each other?

And an excerpt…spicy enough for the readers of Harmless Smut! ;)

She obliged him, cupping his balls in her palm as she coaxed him deep into her throat. Her wet slurping noises echoed in her ears, but she could only concentrate on the feel of him in her mouth. He was so sleek and hard. So impossibly thick. Even another centimeter would be too much.

His salty liquid beaded on her tongue with every suck. She loved the way he tasted and the earthy way he smelled. Sex, soap and sweat. Totally male. Totally delicious.

The pulse between her thighs increased tenfold while she licked every inch of his erection. She didn’t stop until his cock gleamed, jutting straight up from its bed of crisp brown hair.

A beautiful sight. One she fully intended to enjoy.

She pursed her lips and blew again. As the cool air rippled over his hot, engorged flesh, he fisted his hands in her hair, yanking her down on him.Damn, demanding much? He clearly didn’t like slow and leisurely when he could have fast and furious, but she wouldn’t be rushed.

“Like my punishment yet?” she purred, trailing her nails over his sac. She waited until his dazed gaze finally met hers. Then she dove back down, her lips and mouth engulfing him.

HS: WHEW!!! I need some water! Can't wait to read it! When can we get our greedy hands on it?

CQ: Right now, as a matter of fact. ;) My debut release released on Friday, November 6th at The Wild Rose Press Wilder Roses.

HS: YAY!!! Where can we buy your book?

CQ: You can buy Full Disclosure here: http://www.thewildrosepress.com/wilderroses/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=737

HS: What are you working on now?

CQ: I just finished Pleasure Principle, the followup to Full Disclosure. This story’s about Jenny, the webmistress of Hunk Du Jour, the online dating site that plays a big role in Full Disclosure. That story and my first Harlequin Blaze, Virgin Territory, are being polished before they go on submission. I have 5 other WIPs in various stages, including my NaNoWriMo Blaze, Heat Lightning. So I’m a little busy. ;)

HS: Just a little... What advice do you have for ‘Soon To Be Published’ writers (as I like to call them)?

CQ: Keep writing and don’t give up. You’ll never know what you can accomplish if you don’t throw in the pencil at the first hint of rejection. Every writer gets rejected either from editors or agents or their peers…it’s just part of the business. But who knows what’s waiting for you on the other side of that rejection if you don’t quit?

HS: That's great advice. You fail 100% of the time if you never try. So now for the good stuff. What’s the funniest or most interesting line in a book you’ve ever written or read?

CQ: I probably shouldn’t use one of my own funny lines, but I can’t help myself. ;)

This is from my WIP, Heat Lightning (and it’s more than one line, oops!)

“Yeah, well, it’s a free country and I can go where I please. And this bitch is a thief.” His mouth twisted into a sour smirk, and Nat had a startlingly clear memory of the last time that mouth had been between her legs.

God, she needed Summer’s Eve, quick.

HS: LMAO!!! That's awesome! So, facial hair or no? What about chest hair? No hair on any part of the body? (For your partner, not you)

CQ: Funny you should ask. Like Holly in Full Disclosure, I have distinct issues with waxed chests. I can admire a nice one, sure, but I’d rather see a bit of hair. It’s a fine line however, because too much hair is as bad as too little, IMO. Furriness has its place, but not in the bedroom! Facial hair’s fine, though I like a goatee/mustache/yummy scruff better than a full beard.

Well there you go! The very funny Cari Quinn. From Catholic school girl to erotic romance author. (Not that far of a trip, actually!)

Now GO BUY!!!!

Guest Blogger: Lynn Lorenz!

Today Harmless Smut is pleased to welcome multi-published author and funny gal Lynn Lorenz. Lynn writes m/m for Loose ID and others. I don't know if Lynn remembers (probably not) but I met her at RT this year during the ebook signing event. She was lovely. Now without further ado (or cliche), LYNN LORENZ!

HS: First of all, thank you for visiting, Harmless Smut! Tell us a little about yourself.

LL: Thanks for inviting me to talk about myself and my books. I love to talk about anything, really, so you really didn’t have to twist my arm too hard. Just until it hurts so good…ahem. Maybe we should get started with the interview?

HS: I think I can outtalk you but that may be a discussion for another time. So, how long have you been writing?

LL: I’ve been writing since I was in high school, went to college for English and art, but finished with a degree in fine art. I’ve only just gotten back into writing about 4 years ago. In 2008, I published my first novel, The Mercenary’s Tale, with Loose Id.

HS: What attracted you to romance?

LL: Oh my God! Two hunky men who are into each other? Kissing, nibbling, demanding, dominating??? ‘Nuff said. I’d always written strong male characters and they always had this chemistry between them that verged on sexual, so when I finally crossed that line for my characters, it felt as if I’d come home. Very natural.

HS: I have to agree with you. Nothing like the hunks and double the pleasure? WHEW! How many manuscripts had you completed before you sold?

LL: I’d completed, I need to think about this….wait, I have to remove a shoe… 6 or 7 maybe?

HS: Perseverance! I like it. Tell us about the day (the minute, the second) you got ‘The Call’ (or The Email). What was your initial reaction?

LL: Well, it was an email. I read it and jumped up and down. Re-read it and twirled around in my chair. Then I re-read it. And it asked if I would be willing to add more to the story. It made a few suggestions and I emailed back and said let me see what I can do with it. And damn, if they weren’t right. It was a better book when I expanded it.

HS: Isn't it amazing how that happens? What did you do to celebrate afterward?

LL: I went out to dinner with my family. I have a group of friends, and we’ve had dinner together after each of my books has been published. And I have a celebration dinner with my family. Oh, and I have a few other friends and we go to lunch. Hey, I’m beginning to see a pattern here….

Hs: I hear ya. Seems like my life revolves around food as well. Anyone whom you wanted to rub your news in his/her nose?

LL: Sure. There was a woman in my critique group that told me I’d never get published (I had a m/m scene in my vampire book, Warriors At Heart). She also said that no matter what I did, I’d never make Ivan (the vampire) into a hero. Of course, to her, I’m probably not really published since not of my publishers are NY print houses…but I tried explaining that to the IRS says when they asked for their money, but they wouldn’t fall for it.

HS: Little did she know! Women are gobbling up m/m like candy. You were ahead of the curve. Tell us about your current (or upcoming) release. (Please include an excerpt!)

LL: My latest release is Best Vacation That Never Was, from Loose Id. It’s about a guy who’s planning his dream vacation and to get the man of his dreams, only the night before he leaves his apartment building burns down and he’s left literally with nothing. His friends have left, he has no family, no money, no cell phone, no clothes, just the towel he was wearing when he escaped. A hunky firefighter comes to his rescue, and proceeds to give him the best vacation he’s ever had, including the best lovin’ too.

Here’s an excerpt:

Jason rushed through the emergency room doors and straight to the counter.

“I’m looking for a guy.”

The admitting nurse looked up from the computer screen and nodded. “Name?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“Okay.” The helpful look faded from her face. “Do you have someone special in mind, or are you just looking for any guy?”

“Someone special. He came in last night. From the fire.”

“We had several patients from there. Can you be more specific?” Crossing her arms on the counter, she stared up at him, waiting.

Jason grinned. “He was wearing nothing but a towel.”

The woman’s brows rose. “Seems the towel made a big impression on you.”

“You could say that. Look, I’m the firefighter who brought him down and I just wanted to check on him. See if he’s okay.” Jason held out his identification card to prove it.

“Sure. How about you go on back, see if you can find him? Wait over there and I’ll buzz you in.”

“Great!” Jason bounced on his toes like a teen at his first concert as he waited for the double doors to swing open. They opened outward and he bolted through them.

Quickly walking down the corridor, Jason looked from side to side, checking out the rooms. Almost to the nurse’s station he glanced in the window to a room and halted.

The towel guy sat in a chair, shoulders slumped, staring down at his bare feet.

Jason’s heart soared, then broke at the torn look on the guy’s face. Sorrow. Regret. Fear. It was the fear that made Jason’s stomach knot, made him want to make it better, do whatever it took to put a smile on his face.

He stepped into the doorway. “Hey.”

The guy’s gaze rose. He focused, blinked, and then his brows furrowed as he took Jason in.

“Hello. Do I know you?” Troy croaked out.

Oh God. Please say I know you.

A smiling god stood in his door. A dark-haired god in dark blue jeans, and a baby blue polo shirt that clung to each and every muscle in the man’s body. There was something familiar about his blue eyes.

“Not really. I’m the guy,” the god said.

Troy swallowed the lump in his throat. The hottest man he’d ever laid eyes on just said hello and Troy was wearing the ugliest hospital gown on earth. Maybe the universe.

Perfect.

“The guy?” Troy’s voice was still hoarse.

“From the fire. The firefighter on the ladder.” He bounced the toe of his boot on the floor, looking incredibly adorable and tentative, as he hung half in the room and half out of it.

“That’s it!” Troy choked, starting a coughing fit.

“Hey, take it easy.” The guy came in the room and poured Troy a cup of water from the sink. “Here, take a sip.”

Troy took the cup from him, their fingers brushing. The shock wave rolled through his body and he swallowed hard.

The firefighter’s Adam’s apple jerked as his eyes widened.

Troy took a sip to hide his reaction, then put it on the table next to the phone.

“Have you been discharged yet?”

“Yeah. All ready to go.” Troy sighed.

“Is someone coming for you?” The guy bit his bottom lip.

Troy wanted to bite it for him. Bite it, suck on it, give it a gentle nibble. God, once a slut, always a slut.

“No.” Troy shook his head. “I…I don’t have my phone. And most of my friends, well, all of my friends are leaving this morning on a cruise.”

“A cruise you were supposed to be on?” The man leaned back against the door looking as if he were going to settle there for a while.

“Yeah. A dream vacation.” He frowned. “But all my stuff is gone.”

“Shit. I’m sorry about that.”

Troy shrugged. “I’m alive.”

The other guy’s eyes glinted. “Yeah, you are.”

Those blue eyes held Troy captive.

Troy cleared his still sore throat. It hurt to talk so much. “Well, thanks for coming by.”

The guy straightened as if to leave. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. My name is Jason Cooper.” He stuck out his hand at Troy.

“Troy Hastings.” He slid his hand into Jason’s and they shook. And shook. And shook as if neither of them would let go.

Jason took a step back, breaking their connection. “Have you got anywhere to go?”

“Not really. Everything I owned, except my car, was in the apartment. I don’t even have the keys to my car. Guess they burned up too.” He coughed from the exertion of speaking.

Jason bit his lip again. “Look. I know you don’t know me and I know we’ve just met, but if you want, you could come home with me.”

“With you?” Troy gasped. Go home with a god?

“Just until you get on your feet. Get your stuff sorted out, you know.” Jason shrugged.

Troy sat back and exhaled. This wasn’t for real, was it? Was he in some sort of crazy dream? He didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to do about anything right now.

“I…I…I,” he sputtered.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Jason came in the room. “Are these your papers?” He tapped the folder on the table.

Troy nodded.

Jason scooped them up, taking control. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Troy stood and looked down. “No clothes.”

“That’s okay. Once we get to my place I’ll lend you some of mine. I’m guessing we’re about the same size.” He stepped back to let Troy walk past him out the door.

“Thank you,” Troy whispered and followed his rescuer down the hall and out the doors of the emergency room as people stared at him.

Hadn’t they ever seen a barefoot man, covered in soot, wearing a hospital gown before?

“My car is parked outside.”

They reached the car, a bright red Explorer. Troy barked a silent laugh.

“Yeah, I know. Red. Firefighter. Fire engines are red.” Jason shrugged, but it was unapologetic. “It’s cliché, but there you have it.”

“It suits you.”

Troy opened the car door and looked at the spotless gray leather seats. “I’m filthy.” He glanced across at Jason through the open door.

“No problem.” Jason disappeared from sight, the rear hatch opened, and then slammed shut. Jason reappeared at the driver’s door and tossed a blanket across the console. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Troy arranged it over his seat and then climbed in, careful not to get any of the soot on the car.

The seat felt so much better than the hospital chair. His body ached and his lungs hurt when he took deep breaths, but the nurse had told him that would go away in a few days. Troy sank back, closed the door, and put on the seatbelt.

Jason started the Explorer and they pulled out of the parking lot.

For one brief moment, Troy thought maybe he was out of his mind. He’d gotten into a car with a complete stranger and he had no idea where they were going.

He glanced across at Jason. What would Carlton say about this?

Have you lost your mind? You don’t even know him! He could be a serial killer!

But serial killers weren’t this nice, were they? Besides, he and Jason weren’t complete strangers. They’d met before. Outside his building. Three floors up.

Troy fell asleep rationalizing his answers to Carlton.

LL: My next two releases are in November, one with Amber Quill – My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys, a m/m novella set in New Orleans about a frisky game of cowboys and Indians, and one from Liquid Silver Books – McCallan’s Blood, a werewolf love story set in central Louisiana, involving the McCallan pack’s alpha, who finds out the girl his brother knocked up is his mate. And he suspects his brother is trying to kill her.

HS: Those sound great. When can we get our greedy hands on them?

LL: In November, like I said. And I have a book in December, from Amber Quill, called No Good Deed, about a Chinese-American police captain who’s bisexual, but falls in love with a gay man.

HS: I'm always looking for a good multicultural romance. Where can we buy your books?

LL: I have three publishers, Loose Id, mostly m/m, Liquid Silver, all m/f and Amber Quill Press, mostly m/m and a few m/f.

HS: What are you working on now?

LL: Right now I’m on deadline to finish the next in the series In The Company of Men. It’s a medieval called Baymore’s Heir. The first in this series was my first book The Mercenary’s Tale. In Jackson’s Pride, we find out if one of the secondary characters from the first book gets his HEA. And in this one, Baymore’s Heir, once again Jackson’s pride gets him and Will into trouble.

HS: I can't wait to read them. What advice do you have for ‘Soon To Be Published’ writers (as I like to call them)?

LL: Well, aside from the usual stuff, like write a lot and edit even more, I think most important is find people you trust who will give you honest opinions about your work. Not “this is great!” sort of stuff, but real, honest, sometimes brutal, critiques about what you’re writing. If all you ever hear is “I couldn’t find a thing wrong with it” or “It’s perfect!” then those aren’t the right people.

My critique partners frequently tell me, “Seriously?” “You’re joking, right?” and my fav, “Were you drinking when you wrote this?” But they’re the best, I love them, and they’ve helped me be a better writer. And I have to say, my critique group has soon to be published writers, agented writers, newbies, and published, and we all write different genres, from inspirational to YA to M/M.

HS: I agree. I don't know what I would've done without my crit group. Okay, now for the fun stuff. Boxers or briefs?

LL: Boxers. When I was first married, back in the Cretaceous, my husband would put on his briefs and then strike all these men’s underwear poses from catalogs. I would laugh so hard I’d cry. And then he’d pull out the pipe (he tried to smoke one instead of cigarettes) and pose with it in his underwear, I’d laugh so hard I nearly pee myself. I still laugh until I cry, but he lost the pipe years ago, so I don’t have to worry about the peeing part anymore, thank God. So now, if I see a pair of those tidy whities, I collapse into hysterical laughter and point. Oddly, not a good thing to do to a man.

HS: OMG! That's fucking hilarious! If you could have sex with one celebrity who would it be?

LL: Just one?

HS: Just one.

LL: This is a fantasy right? It’s like I get to pick the time when I was the hottest I’ve ever been, tight tummy, firm ass, great tits? Flawless complexion? My thighs were like butter, I tell you. Butter.

HS: Focus, Lynn!

LL: Sorry, I digress. So I’m just sitting around the house and there’s a knock on the door and it’s Dermot Mulroney and he’s lost in my subdivision. How he got past the guard I’ll never know, but I’m damn glad he did. He’s here to clean my pool, except I don’t have a pool, but I let him in away. After all, he’s got that long pool skimmer thingy and wearing nothing but a pair of those low-slung baggy swim trunks, the kind you can see the guy’s indentations on either side of his belly below his navel? Yeah, those. *shudder*

Did I mention I look hot? Right. Butter, baby.

Dermont can’t believe his good fortune. I get my checkbook.

One thing leads me to another, and before I know it, I’m looking for a pack of menthols and I’ve got another pair of swim trunks for my collection.

HS: Great choice! And boo on you for making us use our imaginations. Thank you again for visiting the smut. You're kind of demented and I like that. I smell the bginning of a beautiful friendship.

And for you, blog readers, GO BUY!!!!

Later gators.