Sexy Witches

31 Oct

DarkDesiresby C. Margery Kempe

Earlier this week Madeline Iva asked if you were a good witch or a bad witch, but I think the important question is are you a sexy witch? While I find the habit of slapping ‘sexy’ on any costume’s name and removing half its fabric really annoying and stupid and insulting, witches are dead sexy because they are powerful.

Yeah, baby.

In the early modern era that led to widespread witch hunts — yeah, early modern era because in the Middle Ages people were smarter than that. But look at our own era: how much misogyny there is and fear of women’s power and inevitably that leads to calling us witches.

Sometimes the curly-toed shoe fits ;-) which is why my Book of Dark Desires tale is about a witch who discovers something weird in her family history — and when Lizzie thinks something’s weird, you know it is.

Dead sexy, too.

Here’s some of my favourite sexy witch movies:

Veronica Lake is spooky cute.

Lovely Kim Novak shows why you don’t mess with witches.

A wonderful cast of lovely women.

The awesome cool gals you always wanted to be in school.

The one and only Angelica!

Serafina Pekkala, Finnish witch.


Happy Halloween everyone from the Lady Smut crew.

The Man in a Dress: Why is Cross-dressing Sometimes So Hot?

30 Oct

OMGby Madeline Iva

Sometimes we find a man with a mixture of male and female features hits our evolutionary bullseye.  (I want to boink him but I want to cuddle him too! See every boy band ever created.) But why is it that sometimes cross-dressing is so very hot?

My love for/obsession with cross-dressing goes back, waaaaay back to the dawn of those hazy/shameful lustful feelings reading romance novels as a teenager.

In Georgette Heyer’s romance THE MASQUERADERS, our heroine ends up in a state of arousal and confusion around her hero.  It deeply affects her that he includes her in his sphere because they get along so well. He simply enjoys being around her.  I find this very sexy–it’s her brain that counts–her inner substance is compelling to him.  It’s not about her looks or femininity.  It’s not about how much she conforms to a societal standard or ideal.

Meanwhile, HIS decisive confidence in his own sexuality cuts through the gordian knot of a complicated seething desire he feels for her after being around her for a while. And once he feels what he feels, and sorts that out, he sees clearly what has to be going on: she’s not a young man after all.  Beneath her brazen ruse he sees her vulnerable side. Oy. SO sexy.

The only regret I have about this book is that at this stage readers could use a super-hot sex scene.  But that’s not how Heyer rolls.

Towards the end of high school I got a snootful of Dr. Frankenfurter in THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW.  He was sublime.  And just when you thought he wasn’t interested in women at all he proved himself *very* interested–and skilled.  It was the stealthy seduction and attack that I loved just as much as the naming and claiming of his own scandalous desires.  Someone with this much confidence, with this much unappreciated genius, could also show you his intense diva side–his wanting to be wanted, his desiring to be desired–and still come off as the hottest guy in the room through sheer force of his sexual charisma.

There were other cross-dressing moments that imprinted my youthful psyche in the early 90’s–aside from that cross-dressing classic SOME LIKE IT HOT.  The ending of SOME LIKE IT HOT is probably the most perfect ending to a movie ever made and a sine-qua-non of what romance is truly all about.

David Duchovney in drag & his lazy seductive voice.

David Duchovney in drag & his lazy seductive voice.

But back to the 90’s.  I became catching glimpses of David Duchevony on TWIN PEAKS.  I wasn’t watching the show, so it was just glimpses of him in clips. I think the idea was that he was originally cross-dressing as an undercover assignment for the FBI, but that the cross dressing got away from him and took on a life of its own.  I was captivated.  When he was dressed as a woman it let me focus on his ultra-male voice.  That amazing low, rich, lazy voice–is *so* sexy.  And being a woman, he presented his vulnerable soft side first.  I found it to be a major turn on.  It’s sort of similar to a really hot guy laying back and saying ‘you can do anything you want with me.’  This must be what’s appealing to men when women are vulnerable. And this too, to me at least, is the appeal of a cross-dressing guy.

Hey, watch the wig.

Hottest Pedro Almodovar sex scene ever???

But there’s another appeal as well, I think.  Around that same time a movie came out called HIGH HEELS.

In HIGH HEELS Victoria Abril’s character grows up with a mother who is a singer–and clawing her way to the top.  Abril’s character therefore, grows up lonely and neglected as a child, in a world where men are pretty much pigs.  She is so hungry for mother-love eventually she marries an ex-boyfriend of her mother’s.  She is so mother-hungry, she also finds a cross-dressing cabaret performer who dresses up as her mother and who befriends her.   He is her one and only friend until the night when she’s helping him undress after his act, and his desire her for overwhelms him.  Soon they are f***ing in his dressing room.  It’s a hot, mind-clearing boink for her, yet he’s secretly in love with her.

It was such a hot scene. Something about the permissive atmosphere around them seems to let secret desires out.  Something about cross-dressing–an act of letting go and just saying yes to who you are on the inside–enables their intimate friendship to suddenly ignite into a hot connection.

The dark desire for a hot cross-dressing man isn’t just about seeing his vulnerable sensitive side first through friendship and it’s not only about examining/letting out out secret desires, it’s much MUCH more subversive than that.

I had to go back and watch THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW again to really get it. In mirror scenes, Frankenfurter puts both Janet and Brad in the same situation and they both react the same way.  Their desire to be taken by surprise and to give in to naughty temptation are exactly alike.  Underneath the gender roles we’re assigned, aren’t we’re all the very much the same?  Not just in our sexual desires, but in our needs and vulnerabilities as well?  You wouldn’t think this was a horrifically shocking message to convey to society–but it is. It still is.

This is why a cross-dresser’s sexuality is still upsetting to so many people.

Would you ever be tempted by a cross-dressing hottie? We know that men who like to cross dress aren’t always gay.  But what about seducing a smoldering gay guy out of his garter belt and back into our camp for just one night? Would you ever?

Meanwhile, follow your naughty desires and follow our blog.  We’ll even let you try on our high heels if you want.

PS: Happy Halloween.  In the mood for other good campy Halloweenie blog posts? Say no more:

I’m a Monster, A MONSTER! 

Horror Sex Camp

Hunks O Steel: Cybogs, Sexbots, & ‘Steins

Is Manscaping Manly?

29 Oct
Shirtless male model ripped

Hot – and hairless!

By Elizabeth Shore

Hey, sexy readers. I’m out today but will return next week with a new post. In the meantime, in case you missed it the first time around, let’s just think about hot men for awhile. Ok by you? ;-)

Back in 1972, Cosmopolitan magazine published a centerfold of Burt Reynolds in his birthday suit stretched out on a bearskin rug. The photo was no less than a media sensation and was considered groundbreaking for the female sexual revolution. After all, ladies have been strutting their naked selves for the entertainment of men for years. At last we gals had the favor returned (although, to be honest, Burt’s strategically draped arm hid the essential bit). That one photo skyrocketed Burt Reynolds’ career from actor to sex star. In fact, the picture was so popular that it spurred the launch of Playgirl. But isn’t it interesting how tastes change? If that photo were published today, instead of feeling euphoric over the progress in gender equality, I’d take one look at Burt’s gorilla chest and think: that dude’s in need of some serious manscaping.

Burt and his hair.

Burt and his hair.

If you do a Google images search on “sexy men” (go ahead, I’ll wait), you’re not going to get much in the way of body hair. What you are going to get are pictures similar to Mr. Ripped Abs above. When it comes to today’s hotties, the ladies like ‘em smooth. We can deal with a bit of facial hair – five o’clock shadow’s pretty sexy – but plush mats of chest fur resembling a chia pet are a total turn-off. As writer Ryan McKee states on the website Ask Men, “chest hair should never be so thick that it appears a guy’s T-shirt is levitating off his chest.” Right on, Ryan.

The same rule-of-thumb holds true for excessive leg hair. Some, sure, unless you’re dating a swimmer in which case you can expect his thighs to be smoother than yours. What we don’t want is for men’s legs to look like they’re covered in carpet. As for other hirsute habits, under arm hair should be nicely trimmed. No visible tufts, please. Back hair, nose hair, ear hair let’s not even think about. But what about . . . down there? Should the lawn be trimmed around the tree?

In the porn industry men are always shaved to the nines. Not a stitch to be found below the face. But here’s the thing: for a guy to be that hairless requires a lot of upkeep. Is all that manscaping manly? Do we want our guys to be higher maintenance than we are?

Consider this scenario. You’re getting ready for a night on the town. You’ve spent the better part of the past hour making sure your make-up looks great and your hair behaves. You’ve got your outfit picked out and are nearly finished. Suddenly your guy scoots you aside and says he’s gotta jump in the shower because he needs to shave his balls. Say what?! Talk about being doused with a cold bucket of reality. Is this information that we really wanted?

People have said about sausage that they love to eat it but don’t want to know how it’s made. Perhaps we can equate manscaping to sausage. We like the results, but have no interest in knowing how they were achieved. I mean, seriously, would it be cool for your guy to cancel a date because he’s got an appointment for a back wax?

What do you think? How much is too much when it comes to men’s maintenance? Sound off in the comments below. Oh, and don’t forget to follow us at Lady Smut. We’ll keep you properly maintained.

Passion, Romance, and Treachery in Thorland’s “The Turncoat”

28 Oct

By Liz Everly

A month or so ago, while announcing the publication of my historical romance, TEMPTING WILL MCGLASHEN, I called for more early-American romances. (Check out my earlier blog post here.) I finally read Donna Thorland’s  THE TURNCOAT, which I  had flagged to read but a commenter said “Move it to the top of your pile.” And, dear reader, that is exactly what I did.

I’m so glad I did.


Here is a book that brings passion and romance to the American Revolution in a way that I’m not so sure has ever been done before. I think of the “Bastard Series.”  Am I the only one who remember John Jake’s Bicentennial Bastard Series? I loved those books in the way that they brought American history to life. If I remember, not only was the series grounded in good historical research, but it also had these bits and pieces of naughtiness, which thrilled me, even as a young reader. I think I must have wanted more. I think I must not even realized it until I read THE TURNCOAT, which gives more, more, MORE, if you know what I mean. And I think you do.

Romance readers love a good spy story. But most of those spies are British. Sometimes they are French. But American? If this is not the only historical romance set  during the American Revolution that features an American spy, please let me know. But this spy is not just a spy; the spy is a woman. In fact, there are several women spies in this book. Pshaw, you say? There were no women spies then? Then let me very happily tell you how wrong you are. Either I never thought about this, or I just never quite paid attention to it, but there was quite a network of females spies then. Now, as my historian-husband points out, most of them were not considered “spies” as we define them–but more informants, gathering information and delivering it to the “right” people. Spy, nonetheless.

Thorland gives you a little introduction to one of the female spies of the American Revolution in the back of this book, (Lydia Barrington Darragh) which ignited my geeky-research side into days of Internet searches and so on. But let’s not go down that long and twisty road. This is Lady Smut, after all, we are here to celebrate a smart AND SEXY read. And that’s exactly what this book is.

I admired Thorland’s deft ability at setting up the romance—and providing the obstacles to it. I fought myself. I really wanted to skip ahead. I couldn’t figure out just how the two main characters would get their happy ending. It seemed quite impossible. She manages this while giving plenty of historical details to chew on and adventure to make your heart race. If you love historical romances, read this book.

Check out the trailer:



I’m so happy to share this read with you. At Lady Smut, we love books, so follow us for our latest finds.

What are you reading these days?


Why Can We Not Shut Up About Renee Zellweger’s Face?

27 Oct

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Renée Zellweger has been out of the spotlight for a few years but stepped back into it in a huge way when she appeared at Elle Magazine’s annual Women in Hollywood awards. A collective gasp was heard around the world when she appeared looking dramatically…different.



Granted, a lot of it has to do with how and when she’s photographed and some of the pictures out there make her look much, much worse than she actually appears. But why the outcry over Renée Zellweger’s alteration? Is the world just completely incapable of dealing with a woman aging in the public eye? Do we look with titillated horror at her transformation as though it’s some sort of comeuppance for manipulating her beauty? Why again is this at the top of the 11 o’clock news cycle in the first place?

Most pundits believe the collective shock over Renée Zellweger’s facial changes is mostly because popular culture cannot deal with a woman aging in public. Well no, it can’t, and women are almost (though not entirely) exclusively subjected to a brutal public judgment on everything to how they appear to how they act to how they do–or do not–breed. But even the staunchest feminist has to admit that age alone did not cause the dramatic changes in Renée Zellweger. Even so, it’s not that she allegedly had plastic surgery to maintain or enhance her looks. It’s that she dared to do it so dramatically, we the public can not maintain the fiction that it’s possible to age without external help to keep us looking as though we’re not aging.

You can re-read that last sentence until it makes sense. I’ll wait.

It is, of course, her face and thus her business. But as a public figure who has made a living with her face (and her considerable talent, but more on that in mo), any change is going to bring about extensive commentary. It should not, however, invite moral judgment. That said, a quick Google search of Renée Zellweger’s name populates a baffling amount of op-eds. About her face.

Why can we not shut up about Renée Zellweger’s face?

Experts in The New York Times article “Why the Strong Reaction to Renée Zellweger’s Face?” think the outcry is due to the public no longer being able to recognize a familiar face. “This is about a lot of subtle changes that up to a person who no longer looks like our memory of them. She looks like a different person,” says evolutionary psychologist Nancy Etcoff in The Times. In the same article, Doctor Debra L. Spar, author of Wonder Women: Sex, Power, and the Quest of Perfection, notes the hypocrisy of the situation. “On the one hand, we’re being told don’t worry about how you look, embrace inner goodness, and stop judging on external appearance, and yet, as a community, we have done nothing but talk about poor Renée Zellweger’s face all week.”

This Boston Globe piece suggests the public can’t get over when “America’s Sweetheart” movie stars change their appearances so that they no long look like the relatable girl-next-store ideal we fell in love with in the first place.

“Adoring fans take it personally. They feel baffled (“Why would you do that to yourself?”). They feel sad (“Why aren’t you the same sweet girl with the same sweet face you had a quarter century ago?”). Most of all, they feel offended (“Why would you purposely deprive me of my fantasy that you’re not an actress playing a part but are actually Baby/Sally/Dorothy? Why would you remind me that I’m older than I was when we first “met”? Why can’t you let me live in the 1970s/1980s/1990s, back in the days of wine and roses instead of the days of Gawker and TMZ?”)”

Amanda Marcotte at The Daily Beast thinks it’s more about the delusion of how hard women are expected to work to look like they’re not trying to look good while still looking good.

“[Renée] Zellweger’s face puts us off because it reminds us that she’s had work done and we’d prefer to think that somehow there’s a way to be 45 without looking 45 that doesn’t require work….Perhaps this should be an invitation to everyone to stop pretending that effortless perfection is a thing that exists in the world.”

An op-ed in The Atlantic consists entirely of a series of questions the writer now has buzzing about in her head to ask of Renée Zellweger solely about her transformation. In The Atlantic!

Nowhere in these pieces is there a discussion of Renée Zellweger’s considerable talent. Bridget Jones is regularly name-checked as her most broadly relatable character now impinged by the actress’s changed appearance along with Dorothy from Jerry Maguire and a few hat tips to her Oscar-winning role in Cold Mountain. But little of her outstanding work in Chicago is mentioned, for example. It’s all about her face, as though she has no identity or purpose beyond her “look”. Or, as comedian Russell Brand puts it in his The Trews news segment that mocks the “news” coverage of Renée Zellweger, “‘This is the thing that made Renée Zellweger herself: Her eyes.’ Not any kind of essential relationship with an unknowable entity. Not her personal experiences that she’s been through. Not her talent or her charm or her individual experiences as a woman. It’s her eyes. That’s what made her herself.”

Brand’s mocking scorn brings home the most disturbing, if not surprising, point: Renée Zellweger is being completely boiled down to the sum of her parts and that sum no longer equals the public’s expectations, so it’s open season. Never mind her talent or body of work. Never mind that she’s living a healthier life or that she claims to be the happiest she’s ever been. She doesn’t look the same, thus she must be vilified. All her success and accomplishments, her personality and values, are brushed aside because her face changed. I mean, good God, if this is what happens to her, what hope do the rest of us have?

Our image-obsessed society is too accustomed and too ready to associate physical attributes with success and attraction. We do it as writers too: the first way we describe a character is through their appearance. Those descriptions are often deployed as short-hand speak for character attributes, especially when we veer off from the standard hair color, eye color, and facial features descriptors and delve more deeply, like with the addition of a prominent scar or a person who dresses impeccably to hide a messy inner life, to show how the outward image of our characters reflects inward trauma and/or happiness. (Well, it’s always initially trauma, innit? If they all started out happy, we’d have nothing to write about.) We write Romance in its variety of forms so of course we want our characters to be attractive, at least to each other and, most importantly, to the reader. They have to be people who physically appeal to the reader, to the public, before we can get those readers to care about them. They have to be an image to which the reader can aspire before they can be a character for which the reader will invest. That’s a little backwards, yeah? Readers should invest because our characters are interesting and challenging and complex and entertaining in one way or another, not only because they fit some sort of physical ideal. And yet, that’s the world we write in; that’s the world we live in. Just ask Renée Zellweger.

The world is full of people brushed aside because they don’t meet the popular idea of beauty, a concept that itself changes every few centuries. We bemoan air-brushed magazines covers and scoff at underfed actresses only to bitch when one of those women dares to do something else, dares to be something else. Renée Zellweger herself told People Magazine she’s happy the world is discussing her transformation. “I’m glad folks think I look different! I’m living a different, happy, more fulfilling life, and I’m thrilled that perhaps it shows.” Happiness is the golden ticket, right? That’s what the Internet memes exhort, at least. Happiness is what we all ultimately want in our lives and presume to want for others. In Romance, our readers want to see how our characters ultimately live happily ever after, or at least happy for now. As such, we’d all be better off to focus more on what Renée Zellweger is saying and less on how she’s looking, or as Russell Brand puts it:

“The important spiritual message this woman is trying to convey about personal transition is completely submerged in a glistening deluge of odd gloating and sacrificial sort of meanness.”

 See the entirety of Russell Brand’s The Trews segment embedded below.

Follow Lady Smut. We’ll make you happy one way or another.

Seize Him! Considering the Man in Chains

26 Oct
Behold! Hell is leashed.

Behold! Hell is leashed.

By Alexa Day

Last week, I got myself all fluttery inside talking about the abduction fantasy and the $65,000 Jaguar F coupe. Truthfully, I’m still a little fluttery over all that. In the course of our discussion in the comments, my colleague Elizabeth Shore suggested that I should address the equally tingly issue of men attached by chain to showerheads, beds, and/or other fixtures and heavy pieces of furniture.

Of course, I’m happy to pursue the pressing topics of the day for your enjoyment.

I mentioned last week that I found the imagery of various hot shirtless men in bondage stimulating. I personally prefer looking at hot shirtless men with chains or handcuffs, but in a pinch, rope will also work nicely. The reasons for this are just a little complicated, now that I stop to think about them.

The man in chains is in chains for a reason. My favorite reason is that he might be dangerous. Russell Crowe’s Maximus in Gladiator is my favorite example. When Connie Nielsen’s Lucilla goes to visit him in a suitably dark place, he’s chained to the wall, but not totally immobilized. (A wealthy Roman lady could pay for a gladiator’s sexual favors, you know. So you’d want him to be able to move a little, but not enough to hurt you nonconsensually.) In their scene together, Maximus gets Lucilla’s attention by advancing toward her until the chain goes taut. Restraint has only altered his authority. There’s still plenty of Maximus to reckon with, but a big part of the thrill comes from proximity to someone dangerous enough to warrant restraints.

Just how good is it to be queen? Click and see.

Just how good is it to be queen? Click and see.

The man in chains was restrained as a courtesy, probably by other men. For most women, the actual task of putting a man in chains without his consent is outside the realm of practical possibilities, although it is certainly interesting to think about winning that particular wrestling match. (I’m hoping to hear from an exceptional woman in today’s comments section.) If I arrived somewhere, like a hotel room, and found a man secured to the bed with handcuffs, I would know that I had authority over not only the fellow in bed but over whoever left that person there for me in lieu of a mint on the pillow. That’s one hell of a concierge service! (Emma Holly wrote one of my favorite stories in this vein, “Queen of All She Surveys,” in Beyond the Dark. The heroine maintains a harem of men to satisfy her sexual appetites.)

The man in chains is there because he chose the chains. The man who chooses to

Tell me you don't want a little of that. Click for a lot of it.

Tell me you don’t want a little of that. Click for a lot of it.

surrender to us has given us an amazing gift — trust that is not necessarily backed by his physical strength. If he’s restrained, he’s subject to our whims — whatever they are, for as long as we want. He has to trust that we care enough for his safety to free him if necessary because he won’t be able to free himself. The experience is powerful and rare, and erotic romance hasn’t devoted enough attention to it in the context of female domination, frankly. (For FemDom done beautifully, I will always refer you to Joey W. Hill’s work, especially Natural Law.)

So much of bondage’s allure emerges from symbolism. I think that’s why male bondage imagery works so well; it’s a visual representation of our planet’s most dangerous lifeform, rendered helpless. The darker charge behind male bondage fantasy comes from the behavior of the man in chains. Is he a prisoner? Is he a very special gift? Are we his saviors, his jailers, or a little of both? In our fantasies, it’s entirely up to us.

Follow Lady Smut. We’ll keep you all tied up in knots … in the nicest possible way.

Sexy Saturday Round-Up

25 Oct

By Liz Everly and the Lady Smut Bloggers

Click to get in line for release day!

Click to get in line for release day!

Hello, sexy! How is your Saturday going? Well, let us help you liven it up a bit with some choice blog posts. We’ve searched high and low and this is what we have for you.

From Liz:

Learning about plot from Buffy.

Thoughts on a vagina trainer.

If you’re married and you think sex is boring, you’re doing it wrong.

From Madeline:

Scary SWF with Santa Fixation seeks…

Forget everything you ever heard about female orgasms–because it’s all wrong.

Science says it only takes a fifth of a second to fall in love.

The adultery arms race ratchets up.

Why teens sext.

From C. Margery Kempe:

Why you keep some relationships on the back burner

How to Succeed in a Clickbait World

Writer being a dick on OKCupid

From Elizabeth:

If the characters in your erotic romance have nothing useful to say, tell them to shut the f*** up.

Don’t unload on social media. Apparently, it’ll make you feel worse.

Monica Lewinsky is finally on Twitter. Why this is a good thing.

Playboy pinups from the 60’s and 70’s  – all now card carrying members of AARP- are back for another photo session.

From Alexa:

Your social media feed is not as horrendous as it could be, thanks to these folks.

Is the cravat hot because it demonstrates attention to appearance or because it tempts idle hands to remove it?

Aging, identity, and drag: consider this club in San Francisco and the drag queens who have performed there for years.

Stay Hungry,


P.S. for all the latest, follow us, you won’t be sorry!


Spend One Night in Amsterdam with Jaz Hartfield

24 Oct One Night in Amsterdam by Jaz Hartfield - sm banner

One Night in Amsterdam by Jaz Hartfield - sm bannerby C. Margery Kempe

I’m turning today’s blog over to my colleague, Jaz Hartfield:

I’m very excited about the release of ‘One Night In Amsterdam’. Whilst I’ve had some short stories in anthologies and magazines, this is my first big publication. It’s also my first foray into erotic romance, which has been a very interesting journey. I heard that Tirgearr were open to submissions for their ‘City Nights’ erotic romance series, and I’ve always loved a challenge.

I had an idea based on hen and stag parties in Amsterdam. I’ve been on such weekends and I know the mayhem that can be caused on such trips. The red-light district in Amsterdam is a complete free-for-all. You name it and it’s probably on show or in a shop window somewhere. The Banana Bar and the Sex Museum, plus other places mentioned in the book are all real. I remember enjoying the crazy lads’ weekend – getting drunk, watching dodgy shows and so on (I’ll leave the rest to your imaginations). But by the end I just wanted to go home and do normal things like washing up and drink a hot cup of tea! See, I know how to party.

I began to wonder if romance could occur in such a place of debauchery, and that is the beginning of ‘Onne Night in Amsterdam’. In terms of romance, the book also questions where love and sex overlap. Where does love begin and lust end ? It’s an age old question, but here is a modern version of that narrative.

I wrote the novel, putting in what I thought was lots of hot and explicit sex, only to be told by my editor that it needed much more! So here it is. Will you be brave enough to spend ‘One Night in Amsterdam’?

Blurb for ‘One Night in Amsterdam’:

Chloe organizes Jo’s hen weekend in Amsterdam, glad to get away from the usual boring or married men that she sleeps with. Perhaps she’ll meet some cool guys up for a bit of fun. If not, at least she’ll make sure her best friend gets very drunk while they all party in style.

Dean is getting married to Tamsin, but having serious doubts. His mates take him to Amsterdam for one last weekend of debauchery before settling down for the rest of his life. But is Tamsin the right woman for him?

When Chloe and Dean meet in Amsterdam’s red-light district, they are immediately attracted to each other. Dean tries to justify one last fling before marrying Tamsin. Chloe feels bad about having sex with someone else’s intended. Yet, a night of amazing sex is exactly what both of them want. So, why shouldn’t they just enjoy one night of fantastic, guilt-free sex?

Extract from ‘One Night in Amsterdam’:

Stepping forward with a sigh, Chloe pulled her pink sweatshirt up to her neck, pushed her fingertips under the wire of her bra and tugged upwards. Her boobs fell free and bounced in the cool air.

A huge cheer erupted. That was when she saw all the mobile phones pointing in her direction, and she wondered which dodgy sites she’d be starring on tomorrow. She could only hope her family, friends and colleagues didn’t subscribe to them.

“Satisfied?” she asked Lars who stared open-mouthed. “Thirty Euros, yeah?”

Lars put his hand down his trousers and stepped closer to her, his tongue now waggling lasciviously, and closing in on her right nipple. Chloe deftly replaced her bra and sweatshirt just in time.

“I’m not a bloody prostitute, you perv. Don’t touch me unless you want your gonads shoved up your throat.”

Lars stepped back and removed his hand from his trousers. The crowd around began to disperse.

“Thirty, right?”

“Didn’t we say forty?” Lars replied, holding out his hand – the same one he’d just taken out of his underpants.

“Pay up, Chlo,” Di said with a sneer. “You’re in charge of the dosh.”

They all looked at her. She took out her purse and pressed her last three ten Euro notes into his hand. “You should be paying me after what I did.”

To her horror, he took her hand and thrust his card into it. “I would like to fuck you. Call me.”

“Piss off, creep.” Chloe handed it straight to Di, whose face lit up. Lars scowled but immediately shrugged it off.

“Follow me.”

He led them a hundred metres or so up the street until they reached another brightly lit building, this time with a giant pink elephant in lights on the facade. Underneath it said ‘Theatre Casa Rosso’ in red neon lettering. Lars muttered something to the bouncer who nodded and beckoned them in.

“Tequila slammers all round. Get ‘em in Chloe.” Di pulled a face at Chloe, who tutted and nodded. She got out her credit card.

“Take your seats ladies. We bring drinks to you.” He took the credit card. “I keep tab open for you.”

“Thanks Chloe. You’re the best,” Jo said, stroking her arm.

“Enjoy the show.”

They went through into the auditorium and found seats in the second to last row. It looked like any civic theatre with stalls and a circle. The only real difference was that on stage a longhaired man was thrusting doggy style behind a blonde woman on all fours.

Chloe nearly dropped her drink. The couple looked bored as they spun slowly round on a turntable, so the audience could view the spectacle from different angles. The naked couple kept changing positions, displaying mindboggling gymnastic agility. He had an enormous dick with a cock-ring glinting on it. She seemed to like him entering her from behind and orally. They just kept changing from one position to another, him thrusting endlessly and never appearing to ever climax. The five girls giggled and nudged each other.

“How does he keep going like that?” Di spluttered. “Most blokes I’ve been with only last two minutes, max. Now he’s a real man.”

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Are You A Good Witch? Or a BAD Witch?

23 Oct

Glindaby Madeline Iva

It’s October!  All hail Halloween! At this time of year I’m possessed–it’s like the spirit of some former corn harvest festival queen wakes within me.  I could happily spend this time of year with an armload of mums in one arm, and a pan of pumpkin cranberry muffins in the other. The season makes me feel all witchy-woman, and I glory in it.

Nowadays readers can find all kinds of paranormal good witches to read about with their ley lines kicking ass through various urban fantasy series. (I’m talking about you Anya Bast.) I’ve written about some great witchy book recs HERE.

Speaking of good witches, I have long been fascinated with Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz.  The costume of Glinda in the movie will *forever* captivate me; I could stare at her all day.  Yet her character is actually rather irritating in the movie.  I mean, great voice, great opening line: “Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?” But it’s all downhill after that.  However, in the book series, (written around 1920) she’s all art-nouveau cool with this interesting little crown and all understated magic-y.

That said, I still find a huge amount of appeal in a bad witch.  Willow, for instance, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, was never as fun as when she was being a bad witch.  “Bored now” became a refrain around our house, and I personally love that all black eyes look.

Certainly, when I was little I got into it — I’d go into the bathroom and make ‘potions’ for hours.  I’d start with water and some shaving cream in the sink and then dump in anything else green, blue, or otherwise fascinating from the medicine cabinet.  There was a garden version of this that involved mud, greenery, and the sacrifice of my poor grandmother’s favorite potted plants–especially those with unusual leaf shapes and flowers.

The love of potions continues to this day.  I still love animals, gardening, baking, and herbal teas. What is witchy-ness but a sexier version of botany, a more seductive chemistry, a bad-ass biology?  There is some innate curiosity I had as a little girl and still have as a writer today–a desire to pick up the corner of life and poke underneath it with a stick to see what’s happening amongst all the rot and decay.


Click to pre-order.

Before paranormal had its way with modern readers,bad witches were always old hags.  Midwives, women with knowledge, and women who didn’t give a damn anymore–who let it all hang out.  Women who weren’t self-sacrifical. They offered their help, yes, but for a price.  That’s some potent ju-ju up the nose of the patriarchy.

At any rate, I invite you to ride off this fall across the harvest moon on your broomstick.  Unleashing ones inner hag feels glorious and slinky–it’s like slipping into a bed with clean sheets just after shaving your legs.  Yet this season is seriously unsung in terms of anthem songs.  To help you celebrate, I’ve assembled an ultra-cool list of songs below. Listen to these tunes and you’ll be ready to lament, wail, and summon up any creatures from the inky reaches of night that your rotten old heart desires.

We of course, are ready to array ourselves in full shiver mode, going through the final stages of getting our first anthology ready for release. Boo-ya! And our anthology is available for pre-order! Isn’t that exciting?

Let us put a spell on you–follow our Lady Smut blog of witchy women.  We’ll bring that old black magic every week.

Season of the Witch by Donovan

Witchy Woman by the Eagles

I Put A Spell On You by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins

Time of the Season by The Zombies

House of the Rising Sun by The Animals








Getting Your Ass Out There For The Sake Of Writing

22 Oct

Woman's legs and buttBy Elizabeth Shore

If you’ve never had the opportunity to attend the New Jersey RWA Put Your Heart in a Book annual conference, you really should think about it. In fact, how about right now. I just returned from attending it this past weekend and I have to say, it’s pretty amazing. Loads of helpful workshops, agent and editor pitch sessions, and best-selling authors giving keynote talks. The editors and agents often stay on long after the official pitch sessions, and chatting them up at the bar or in the after conference party is completely doable. Plus, it’s not a giant overwhelming mega-conference like RWA National where you can easily feel as lost as a mouse in a maze.

One of the keynote speakers this year was the wonderful Susan Mallery, whose work has appeared repeatedly on the New York Times bestseller list and who has thus far in her career sold over 25 million books. That’s a shitload of books. How has she achieved thiat kind of success? Susan, in her presentation, told us eager listeners that she’d share her secret. Ooooooh, goody. We all leaned forward, like people in an E.F. Hutton commercial, eager to catch every word. Then Susan told us. The secret to becoming a bestselling author, she said, was to do one thing and one thing only. Show up.

Wait … what? Show up? That’s it? What about just writing a great book? That’s what we keep hearing over and over. Write a great book. Well, of course, this whole writing thing starts with having a great book. That’s a given. But let’s face it, there are a lot of writers who’ve written great books. There are a lot of great books out there that will never see the light of day. They’re collecting real or virtual dust on the shelves, never having earned the acceptance of an editor who says she’s buying it. The problem, according to Mallery, is that the writer hasn’t done enough showing up.

There are variations on the theme of Mallery’s statement, such as “you’ve got to be in it to win it,” but the essence of the meaning is clear. Yes, you have to have a product to sell and promote and get yourself on a best seller’s list. Without that you have nothing. But showing up in many ways is much, much harder, particularly for writers who, by nature, are often raging introverts. Show up? we might sniff. As in, like, talking to people? Eeeeewwww.

But yes, as in talking to people. As in going to conferences, signing up to do workshops, attending book signings, chatting up your readers. There’s also, Mallery pointed out, virtual showing up. We all know we need to be active on social media. We know it, but so many of us don’t do it, at least not to the extent needed. We’re busy. We have jobs We have families. We need time to write. It’s all true, but making yourself visible is nowadays not a nice-to-have luxury, it’s a make-it-or-break-it fact of the writing life.

New York Times best selling historical romance author Madeline Hunter echoed Mallery’s statement about showing up when she pointed out how important it is to put yourself out there as an author. Not only do you need to build a fan base of readers, but Hunter made a rather sobering statement about the state of the industry when she said that nowadays slow sales can tank a career, even if it’s on a first book. The expectation on us authors to promote promote promote is a given, and if a publisher sees an author less than eager to become a one-woman marketing machine, they can easily move on to someone else who is.

So there you have it – the secret to publishing success. Get your ass out of the chair and show up. Go to events. Give talks at libraries, sign books, talk to strangers in line at the grocery store. Keep your Facebook up to date, Tweet, Pin, write your blog. It’s not easy, but if it were anyone could do it, and you’re not just anyone. Right?

Here at Lady Smut we show up seven days a week with new posts, so be sure to hit that follow button and come along with us. And if you’re in the mood for a dark and sexy read, reward yourself by pre-ordering a copy of The Lady Smut Book of Dark Desires.

Click to get in line for release day!

Click to get in line for release day!





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