BLOG: I'm So Behind

I said behind.  Tee hee.  No, this isn't another blog about buttsecks.  I'm not quite ready to do a follow-up to that post just yet.  I'm actually behind.....on writing my book reviews.  I'm way behind, y'all.  Like 28 reviews behind.  But, I just.can't.stop.reading.  For so long, I was so good about not starting one book until I had written and posted the review for the book I had just finished.  Somewhere in July.....I got way off track.

Here's the books I've read and still need to write the reviews for.  They are listed in no particular order.

1. One Grave At A Time
2. Come Back To Me
3. Don't Call Her Angel
4. The Artist
5. Kiss Me Kate
6. Covert Lessons
7. Trespass
8. One-Two Punch
9. Rock Hard
10. Desire in the Dark
11. Loving the Beast
12. Power Play
13. Everything Nice
14. Punished
15. Rough Cut
16. Broken
17. Backstage Pass
18. Take Me
19. Three Reasons Why
20. Inflamed
21. Mad About Meg
22. Happy Endings
23. Mr. Smith's Whip
24. Kidnap and Kink
25. Ready and Willing
26. Seeing Blind
27. Snowed In with the Tycoon
28. The Gladiator's Master
29. The Darkest Surrender
30. Captured
31. Sweet Inspiration
32. Sweet Magik
33. Head Games
34. White Knight
35. Belong To Me
36. Beauty & The Feast
37. Incorporeal

So yea.  That's my need to be reviewed list.  It's sooooo long. (Tee Hee.  That's what she said.  I can't help it, I'm not mature.)

With the exception of the last 3 or 4 books I read, I'll need to do a lot of rereads.  A lot of them.  Which is fine, because I loved almost all of these books.  In fact, some of them....I have already reread a time or two.

I'll get caught up.  You know, eventually.

Blog: What, what....in the butt?

Is anal the new oral in hetero romance novels?

No really. Is it? Sure seems that way to me, which is why I felt the need to write this long blog about the phenomenon of rampant buttsecks going on in all of the hetero romance and erotica books that I've been reading lately. It seems like EVERYBODY is doin' it in the butt these days. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not criticizing it. Not at all. But I do feel the need to add my own personal disclaimer that I have never personally attempted it. I've never said no to it....but I've also never had a guy say "hey....can I stick it in your back passage?" (Back passage, you ask? Yes, I've seen it referred to as that in a book. Along with many other phrases that make me go "tee hee" and take me totally out of the would-be sexy moment. But then again, my maturity level is around that of a 12 year old boy, so maybe those phrases are only funny to me.) *more about euphemisms at the end of this post*

Anyway....

Now, maybe I just haven't been around the block as much as many of the heroines I've been reading about. In my head, doing it in the butt requires a lot of trust shared with your partner. Trust you don't gain on the first date. But it seems like they'll just go there right off the bat. And not only is it the guys going there in the girl's butt.....the girls go there too. With their tongues. On the first date. I don't know about you, but when I first meet a guy, I don't always know where he stands on personal hygiene. I mean, he may smell good and all, but Axe body spray can cover up a lot. What it can't cover up is how clean his asshole is. How do I know how if he's squeaky clean back there? Maybe he had Mexican for lunch and didn't shower after his post-Mexican meal visit to the loo. I'm certainly not gonna let my tongue figure that out for me. Hell....I don't even want my finger to figure that out. But, some of our heroines seem more than happy to visit the hero's dark alley on the first date, with no hesitation. And after I read those parts, I just want to go brush my teeth and gargle with bleach.

Yea, I know it's a book.....and we're supposed to imagine that people don't fart in bed and have less than stellar ass-cleaning routines. I get that. After all, romances are fairy tales and everything is supposed to be unicorns, rainbows, and rose-scented assholes. But I can't stop myself from going there. I can't stop imagining all of the disgusting scenarios involving hairy male assholes and the women who want to lick them.

Now, let's talk about the guys who wanna do it in the women's butts, cause I have concerns there as well. First of all, every man in a romance novel is hung like a water buffalo. And it seems like every woman is an anal-virgin. Reality math tells us that huge penis + virgin lady asshole = excruciating pain. But romance novel math tells us that huge penis + virgin lady asshole ÷ some lube = pleasure beyond compare. I do not buy this math. At all. Ask any gay man....and believe me, they know their buttsecks.....but it just doesn't work like that. And it doesn't always go well on the first try. Even with a gallon bucket full of lube. But according to hetero romance and erotica novels....there's a little pinching and then a ton of pleasure. In my head, after I read a scene like this......I'm thinking that this poor woman isn't gonna be able to shit right for a week. (I know, I'm disgusting, but you're the pervert reading my blog about buttsecks, so what does that say about YOU? *wink. just kidding.*)

Another of my pet peeves about buttsecks is that it often happens because the hero and heroine find themselves in a situation where condoms aren't available. And I'm guessing if there aren't any condoms, there isn't any lube either. See my "reality/romance math equations" above. Ouch. And I don't care what the books say - spit isn't considered a lube. There's another whole blog post that I could write about safe sex in romance novels....or lack there of. But I'm not gonna go there in this post. But condomless buttsecks just seems like a bad idea, no matter what the situation. And my mind always goes to the dark place (pun intended).

So, to sum it up - I'm not against buttsecks in my hetero romance. Far from it, actually. At times, it can be super hot. That is, when my mind isn't thinking about cleanliness issues or what a butthole might actually taste like. (Again, I'm disgusting, I know. But you've stuck around this long, pervert. So don't pretend you're all high and mighty and admit it....you've wondered too!)

Now finally - the part of this blog that made me want to write it in the first place.....euphemisms! This was originally inspired by my friend Jen's blog post called Romance Thesaurus. In this post, she covers some of her favorite phrases that, as she says, "have yanked me out of a hot and heavy moment and dropped me straight into giggle-town". For my list, I'm sticking with the ass theme. Here are some of my favorite euphemisms for the back door. Enjoy.....and feel free to add your favorite assphemisms in the comments section.

forbidden channel
dark passage
puckered hole
virgin entrance
clenching pucker of her rear entrance
clenching back hole
now hungry opening of her anus (ewwww)

(Aghhh! I know I have more! I will add them as they come to me. I should have been keeping better notes on the books I've read recently!)

Guest Blog: Author Charlotte Stein

First off - I need to say that I am seriously geeked out by having my very first guest blogger - author Charlotte Stein! Not only did she pop my guest blogger cherry, but she has a new book out that she will discuss below.

The brilliance of the internet, particularly Twitter, is that you get to interact with people that you would never otherwise know or communicate with. One of the main reasons I wanted to start this book blog was to meet other people with a similar taste in books. Then low and behold, I get to meet and chat with authors of erotic romance novels, the genre that I have come to love so very much. The mind....it boggles.

Now on to Ms. Stein's post. Enjoy!

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When Kristy said I could guest post on her blog about my latest book, I was very nervous and excited. And then even more nervous and excited, because she said she’d never had a guest before.

Never had a guest before! On this fabulous blog with its fabulous name and its load of fabulously funny, honest, brilliant reviews of lots of books I love almost as much as Kristy probably does. I mean, she loved Willing Victim. Of course she’s cool.

And she’s a geek who loves erotic romance, like me! Hooray!

But enough about how much we both love geeky things and erotic romance. Onto my book, which is out now and is all about...well...geeky erotic romance-y things. Like zombies and people having threesomes and the apocalypse and stuff.

Behold, the blurb:

June has spent the last two years of her life trying to avoid death at the hands of murderous psychopaths and ravening zombies. So when Jamie turns up on the scene, careless, still whole and promising her safety on a little paradise island, she isn’t quite sure she can trust him. Especially when he tells her that it’s just him, and his equally big, burly, handsome friend Blake.

But Jamie and Blake are even better than her wildest dreams—sweet and funny and charming. And worst of all: sexy as hell. Though they're trying to be gentlemanly with her, all she can think about is how much she wants to get tangled up in them, and forget the nightmare the world has become. She's waiting for her reawakening—back to life and happiness and love.

And they seem like just the right sort of men to wake her—body and soul.

And an excerpt:

All June could think was—Kelsey is dead, Kelsey is dead, Kelsey is dead—while the image of the ravening hordes feasting on Kelsey’s body played behind her eyes. She tried to shut it off, keep it down, keep running before they got to her, but Kelsey’s blood was still wet and all over her right arm.

And if Jamie hadn’t shot Kelsey—right as she was still screaming, and begging for help—she’d be one of them, now. That’s what happened. Once they bit you or bled on you or hell, spat on you, you had maybe thirty seconds.

Before you turned. She needed to stop, just stop for a second. Lean against something and catch

her breath. But Jamie had somehow led them into this building and he just kept running and running—only up instead of out.

June didn’t even know if Jamie was really his name, or if he was leading them right into a dead end. But he kept going, none-the-less.

She could hear the hordes, busting through the door below. He’d barred it, but they were coming in anyway, to this place that was an almost total deathtrap. The staircase was narrow and blanketed in darkness, one winding section after the next. Even if she dared to pause and look over the railing, she wouldn’t be able to see them until they were almost on her.

“Jamie, wait!” she shouted, but not because things would be easier if he had hold of her hand or was there to comfort her in this dire hour of need. She’d made it this far, on her own.

Or at least, she’d made it this far, with Kelsey.

No, it was just that—if he kept going, eventually they’d be trapped, on the roof. And she couldn’t have that. That was one of her and Kelsey’s rules—don’t run to someplace with only one exit.

Only it was just her rule, now. This guy, this Jamie...he didn’t seem to have any rules. He’d decided to run to the roof of a twenty story building then potentially wait outside until the hordes pushed through a probably very flimsy fire door.

Kelsey had said to her. She had said—wait. He’s as crazy as they are. A safe island? He’s nuts. We can’t go with him. He’s probably an insane apocalypse rapist.

And she’d been right, God help her. Maybe not about the insane apocalypse rapist part, but even so and besides—there was still time for that. He could be anyone, be into anything. He could have planned this all along...Kelsey’s death, the run to the roof...hell, maybe he had a whole party of insane assholes up there, just waiting to do horrible things to her.

Even if that was as nuts as he now seemed. Why would he trap himself on the roof, just to have a little fun with her? Nothing in her head was functioning in quite the way it should. Connections had been lost. Wiring had come loose.

She still called out to him again, when they got to the level before the last one. Her voice came out hoarse and breathless, burning lungs making everything difficult, Kelsey in her mind making everything worse. But somehow the words emerged.

“Jamie, stop. Take the nineteenth floor exit, okay—we can go back down on the other side of the building—answer me, fuck!”

He did, then. She heard him call out over her own shrieking breaths, the pounding of her sneakers on stone, and the sounds of the once-were-people below,

slathering and barking like animals.

There were two cracks, like he’d fired her gun into the stairwell. Though she couldn’t see where he was shooting or at what. Then—

“Just keep following me, June-bug—come on!”

Only it sounded more like come own, because of the Texan twang Kelsey had sworn up and down was fake. And he’d called her June-bug again, because he was crazy, he was crazy, oh dear Lord he was probably leading them to their deaths.

This was all just some final mad hurrah. He was suicidal, and this was how he wanted to go out. Death by stairs or death by zombies—because they were zombies, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise—or even worse, death by roof.

Was that what he was going to do? Hurl himself off? Plummet to his untimely end? She didn’t know. All she could really think about was how close the first ravening cannibal was getting, and how unfit she really was. She’d started believing all the cardio was really beginning to pay off, but as it turned out, eighteen flights of stairs and she was out for the count. Her heart clawed at her ribcage. Her thigh muscles screamed and screamed.

While her zombie pals kept coming and coming, as though the stairs were nothing, really. Why, leaping up eighteen flights was like a morning stroll to them! They could have climbed these stairs forever and still had the wherewithal to eat her innards, once they got their claw-like hands on her.

She hit the fire door to the roof just as one of said claw-like hands brushed the back of her shirt.

It made everything inside her leap, including the heart she’d thought had escaped. Whenever they got really close—that was when you realized just how terrible they were. How awful the world had become. How much it wasn’t like a movie at all, but like a constant and unbearable pressure against your sanity, always threatening to make you go over.

She felt like going over, when the door wouldn’t close on them. For a second of pushing and heaving with their hands coming through and all over her, her mind tried to fly away. It told her to start screaming uncontrollably, while clawing at herself—that doing so would really be her best bet. No more running constantly. No more pain over Kelsey—and before Kelsey, Joanne and Pat and the old lady whose name she never learned.

Just peace, finally. One moment of agony, then peace.

Only it wouldn’t be, would it? No, it wouldn’t be. If she stopped pushing at the door and jamming it at them and just God, let the door snap their arms, let it crush

them, let it kill them all forever, if she stopped...they’d turn her into one of them. And no matter how much she tried to let it hurt her that Jamie had pointed the gun and shot Kelsey between the eyes, it didn’t. It couldn’t.

Being one of them was worse. After all, it could have been that they’d caught a disease. It might have been that they were infected with something—like in 28 Days Later, rather than Night of the Living Dead. But part of her wondered whenever she stared into their hollow, ink-black eyes, if they’d simply lost their souls.

He looked like it. The one who’d managed to squeeze his mottled face into the crack she was struggling to close in the door. He had no pupils, no irises, no whites to his eyes. It was all just blackness, empty and weirdly unseeing, as though they operated on no more than a bloodlust now. Like upright land sharks roaming the land, blindly searching out prey.

She wrenched the door from him for just an instant then smashed it back into his face. It was a risky move, but oh so worth it. Worth it for the satisfaction, worth it for Kelsey, worth it for everything these things had taken from everyone. People’s souls hadn’t left. These things had stolen them.

And when it slithered away and the door quite abruptly shut, the idea didn’t go with it. It stayed, and festered—so much so that she wanted to open the door for one mad moment, just to smash it back in their faces again, and again, and again.

She wanted to, but Jamie was calling to her. And other sounds were starting to flood through her now, too, other big, big sounds that she should have noticed ages ago.

At first she thought it was some kind of weapon. That he’d found a chainsaw or a pneumatic drill or a wood chipper. Something he’d known was up here all along for them to use against the enemy.

But then the wind whipped up and she turned to see something far more incredible than a zombie eating wood chipper. It was so incredible that she forgot the zombies battering on the fire door, for a second. They’d bust through it soon enough because although they couldn’t figure out handles, the sheer pressure of them would figure out the release bar.

Though it didn’t seem to matter. For the first time in these two years of hell, it didn’t matter. She found herself laughing out loud, high and probably hysterical.

Jamie had only gone and gotten himself a helicopter. And not only that, but he apparently knew how to fly a helicopter. The rotors were going. They were kicking up the fine gravel that lined the roof of whatever building this was, and he was yelling to her—

“Come on, June-bug, get your ass in here!”

She thought of him talking about the island. About his buddy who was waiting for them. How they’d just wanted to find survivors, and populate their safe haven, and how crazy that had sounded when he first started yakking about it.

Then she ran to him.

And finally, the link:

Reawakening (Forever Dead Series, Book One) by Charlotte Stein

Thanks a million for having me, Kristy! It’s been a blast.

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Ok - It's me, Kristy, again. *blushes* She's thanking me! No, really, Charlotte, the pleasure has been all mine!

Connect with the fabulous Charlotte Stein:  Goodreads, Twitter, and Blogger.

Buy her other books:  Amazon US, Amazon UK or Barnes & Noble

LOL: Dear Men of Craigslist

I ran across this a few weeks ago and nearly peed myself laughing.  Considering the types of books I read and write about - I thought this was appropriate.

Of course, I did not write it.  I found it here.

Enjoy.
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Dear Men of Craigslist,

Look, I know you men have it difficult. Women are just about impossible to understand, much less please. In a post-feminist society, you never know exactly what you should be doing. Women are bloody picky, I know we are. It can be scary, too, when women freak out about what appear to be benign issues. And men who do their best to be respectful, female-positive humans, I salute you, I do.

But please, please just fuck me already. Honestly, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I like that you want to take things slow. I can totally get behind the idea of emotional connection, but dearjesusinheaven, FUCK ME. We've done dinner and drinks. We've gone dancing. We've cuddled and watched a movie. I'm wearing a low cut shirt and you've been staring at my breasts all night. Goodgodalmighty, get to it and fuck me.

When we get hot and heavy, please take charge. Please, please fuck me. Trust me, I'm not going to just lie still - I'll get involved. But don't make me force your hand into my panties. That makes me feel like a rapist. We've been kissing for a half hour and your hand keeps grazing my ass. That's nice, but it's time to move forward. Get on top of me. Don't make me get on top right out of the gate and start bobbing up and down on your cock like I'm practicing some crazy new aerobic yoga because YOU won't go down on me. Roll on top and start dry humping like a good boy should. Don't gently suck my nipples and then pull back when I moan with pleasure. You being coy is totally not what I want. It's not what WE want.

OK, I know it's scary. There are lots of women out there who make fucking really difficult. So, I have compiled some handy tips. Don't think of this as complaining, or as schadenfreude for the Andrea Dworkins of the world. Just some simple tips, for timid men who have forgotten what it means to fuck like men:

1. Taking charge is not bad. Oh, there will be some women who feel that you are pushy. If you are making out with a woman, and she starts to push back, ask nicely if things are moving too fast. If she says yes, say something like "I'm sorry - you just look so fucking delicious. I'll go slower." Otherwise, skillfully move forward. If you start kissing a woman, and she responds well, and before long, you're both on the floor with her skirt pushed up, and you on top of her, it's not the time to roll onto your back and start awkwardly stroking the top of her head. Seriously, grow a goddamn pair. YOU'RE the man. Act like one.

2. Ohmyfuckinggod, please learn to respect the clit. It's different for every woman, so ask what she likes. Do not, I repeat, do not just wiggle your fingers around her pussy like you're trying to tickle her. Do not drum your fingertips against her vulva like you are impatiently waiting at the Sears Tire Center for your receipt. Do not push the clit like it is a doorbell at some house that you need to get inside of. Start by using all four fingers with firm yet gentle pressure against the outside of her pussy. Do not charge in with a single finger and start jabbing at things. And if you really don't know what to do, ask her. Just ask. "How do you like it?". It's a simple question, and most women will answer straight out. If she's being all coy, ask "Do you like pressure? Is it sensitive?" The clitoris is a varied item, indeed. Treat each one as though you have never encountered one before. Forget everything that your last partner liked.

3. Most women like to be fucked, and fucked well. Yes, there are women out there who want to "make love" every time - sweet, gentle, rocking love with lots of eye contact and loving kisses. Those women are not the majority. The majority like to be pounded. The majority like to have their hair pulled. The majority like a good, solid jackhammering. When a woman is bucking wildly against you, it's not because she wants you to pull back and slowly swirl your cock around her vagina like you're mixing a cake batter up there. It's because she wants you to hold down her arms, or grab her hips, or push her legs above her head, and fuck her harder. Don't be too afraid of what this means as far as gender equality goes - I am a raging feminist bitch, but I still want to be penetrated like you are planning on fucking my throat from the inside out.

4. A little roughness is nice. Do not pretend that you had no idea that some women like their hair pulled. Do not act shocked if she wants you to spank her ("Really? Spanking? Won't it hurt?" - yes, it does. That's the fucking point). We know you've read Stuff and Maxim, and that's all those laddie mags talk about in their "How to Please Her" sections. Start with light, full handed smacks to the area of her ass that she sits on. Judge her response and continue on from there. You don't have to bend her over one knee and tell her she's a naughty girl and that Daddy's going to punish her; save that for the fifth date. Women are less delicate than you think, so don't worry about breaking her hip.

5. It's OK for you to make noise. Otherwise, we feel like we are fucking a ninja. Unless you actually are a ninja, and have sneaked into our rooms with vibrating nanuchaku and zippered black pajamas, please, please make some noise. If you're banging a woman, and she's crying out and saying your name and moaning, and you can't even manage a grunt, she's going to feel like an idiot. You don't have to make the sounds she is making, but do SOMETHING. You know how when you are watching porn, and the girl does something great to the guy and the guy kind of goes "Ah!", half grunt, half yell? That's HOT. Do that. Whisper our name (assuming you know it) gruffly. Groan against her neck when you're in missionary position. You don't have to grunt like a mountain gorilla, but if you are totally mute, she's going to get worried.

6. Most women like dirty talk, in addition to the grunting. If you'd like to get some dirty talk going, ask her if she likes the way you fuck her. If she responds well, continue with something like, "I love fucking you. God, you look so fucking hot." Is she still moaning in response? "Your tits are so beautiful." Does that work? If she doesn't respond well to the term "tits", you might have to stop there. If she keep moaning or responding, pass Go and collect $200. Try the following:

"Oh, god. Your pussy is SO tight."
"You're so wet - are you wet because you like the feel of my cock ramming you?"
"I think I'm going to come inside you. I'm going to fill up your little cunt." It doesn't matter that you're wearing a condom; we LOVE hearing this.

If all of those work, you can then progress to things like "sexy little bitch" and "dirty whore". Tread carefully, but please, tread. Do not tiptoe. Do not sit down. Charge.

6. You're not obligated to eat a woman out. In return, she's not obligated to choke on your dick. Don't skip one and expect the other. If you do eat a woman out, the only comment you should make about her pussy is how nice it is. The length of her labia minora, the color of her interior, her waxing job or full bush - you are not John Madden. No time for color commentary.

7. Do not bitch about condoms. Oh, we hate them. Trust us. They hurt us more than they hurt you. But we don't want to be preggers, and you don't want to catch anything, right? Don't whine about condom sex. Do not explain that you can't come with one on. LEARN to come with one on, or if not, help us figure out what to do with you once we're satisfied and it's time for you to let loose your load.

8. We really like it when you come. It's called a money shot for a reason. Watching semen shoot out of you is one of the most gratifying things EVER. However, do not assume that she wants you to jack it off onto her face. She might, but don't assume. Seeing and/or feeling you come is rewarding for us, so there's no need to deprive us of it, but please do consult us before unleashing. "I think I'm going to come - how do you like it?" is a fair question that shouldn't rob you of your testicles.

In recent memory, I've been fucked by a very aggressive, manly guy, and I've been... well, fucked is the wrong term here. I've been penetrated by a total and utter wuss. Who am I going to run back to when I'm ready for my fill? Manly McHardon, that's who.

*New point of clarification - some people have brought up some really great issues in response to this post, so let me say this: I don't mean to imply that all women like to be treated like whores. I do mean to say that most women I know have told me that they like sex rougher than most men give it to them. Rough does NOT equal chains and bondage. And this applies to the bedroom only, and does not mean that she wants you to choose her dinner for her, or treat her like less of a person. **Some women have said that they don't like it rough and what the hell am I thinking? Well, girls, you're in the minority. HOWEVER, all women need to remember that, in addition to be straight forward about your sexual desires, you need to be straight forward about your sexual limits. Don't be afraid to ask for more, but when something feels wrong, say so. Don't ever do something you don't want to do in silence and then blame the guy. Silence is dangerous.