Wednesday, August 26, 2009

The erotica phrases that make you laugh

At the recent Romance Writers' (RWNZ) conference, we had an excellent workshop on what to avoid when writing erotic fiction (presented by Susan Napier). We were all in stitches... and yet most of us had to plead guilty to authoring at least one of the "love to hate" phrases.

My favourites included:
  • his manhood
  • his member
  • his throbbing lance
  • her rose petals
  • he pinched her nipples (er, you realise, that's a favourite as in "love to hate", not something I'd like to see on the bedroom menu)
  • she moaned softly (I always imagine this followed by a dialogue line: "You forgot to take out the garbage again!")
There were many, many more, but I didn't write them down, for the fear they would stick in my mind and beg to be used.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Jane Beckenham: What gets me in the mood to write a love scene?

Question: What gets me in the mood to write a love scene?

Answer: I think I really have to know my characters first, but most importantly, know my hero, how he thinks, really get into his skin. I love writing heroes, love that they are so complicated. Love their love language. By that I don’t mean specifically what they say during sex, but how they perceive love, how different that is from a their heroine’s perception of what is love and how they want to be loved.

Music will play a small part in getting me in the mood, but mostly it’s just shutting my eyes, imagining my hero, what he’s doing, thinking, saying, feeling, and being him, being in the moment. Such a lovely feeling. What I try for is sensuality, rather than wham bam sex, but then, wham bam, can be fun too. (~Jane Beckenham, author of NO SEX NECESSARY)


Author: Jane Beckenham


ISBN: 978-1-60435-115-6

ISBN: 1-60435-115-2

Release date: May 22 2008

Heat Rating – Very Sensual

Cole grinned with unhidden delight.

“I want to touch you,” she said. Tara watched him, aware of the molten heat radiating from him…to her. Her husband was on fire for her. A secretive smile tugged at her kissed mouth. Good! “All over,” she reiterated. “It’s my turn, husband.” She offered him a mischievous smile, surprised and elated at her lack of inhibition.

It was a first. But then, the feelings and emotions she felt at this moment too were a first. Nothing in her life could equal this.

Cole dropped his hands to his sides as if offering himself to her. The golden glints in his eyes darkened to a deep and lustrous amber. “Be my guest.”

Tara almost purred. “I feel like the cat who’s got the cream.”

“Then lick me.”

Oh, dear God. Taken aback by his request, she hesitated, but one look into his eyes and seeing the raw and blatant desire, candid and inviting, she could resist no longer and did exactly that.

Resting her hands on his chest, the wiry texture of the hair an abrasive aphrodisiac on the tips of her fingers, she trailed her tongue across his chest with slow, definitive strokes.

His body jerked, sparking a renewed fear coiling in her gut. She lifted her gaze from beneath the shadow of her heavy lashes and looked up at him with uncertainty. Had she gone too far? Disappointed him?

Not that. Never that. Please. Heat turned to ice and she pulled back abruptly.

“Baby, don’t stop,” Cole groaned through gritted teeth. His fingers gripped her shoulders, edging her closer. Sweat beaded his brow, every muscle in his face stretched taut with barely controlled tension. For one second, then another, Tara did nothing. She simply looked at him. Really looked.

He was…beautiful. Powerful and strong. And he wanted her. His arousal spoke a silent plea. Screamed it. Just as did the raging need escalating within her, craving release.

Elated with the knowledge she was able to arouse him, Tara brush her fingertips over his chest before she began to dot kisses down his torso.

Cole clasped her head with gentle hands, tilting her head so that she gazed into his heated expression. “If you continue, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.”

“Who said I want you to?” she countered with a teasing smile.

A deep and rumbling laughter spilled from Cole’s throat. “Woman, you’ll pay.” He pulled her up, her body brushing against him.

She offered him a cheeky grin, flicking her damp hair away from her face. “I hope so.” And gave him a wink.

Who was she? Who was this person she offered to Cole?”

Tara couldn’t help but be amazed at her behavior. It enveloped her in a deep sense of satisfaction. She couldn’t remember such sense of being provocative and assertive as she did now, wanting so much to be united, aroused beyond return. And believing she could give, and take.

Cole took charge. In quick succession, he snapped the faucet off, taking them both from the shower and wrapping her in a huge, fluffy white bath sheet, before, once more, lifting her in his arms and carrying her toward the bed.

With a tenderness she still found surprising in a man as hard-nosed as he was in business, he laid her down on the bed. He knelt beside her and used the towel to pat her dry.

“You’re beautiful Mrs. Charteris. A sexy seductress, exotic, glorious…” Cole’s words trailed off as his lips sought hers with a fierceness that sucked all the air from her lungs.

Heaven had arrived.

He moved onto the bed, edging his hard body over hers and Tara found herself swept up by desire, kiss after kiss rousing her to the edge, and beyond. Her legs parted and he slipped in between them.

“Perfect,” he rasped in her ear. “Just as if we’re made for one another.”

Made for one another.

It was Tara’s last coherent thought as Cole united them and the escalating excitement of their joined bodies overtook.

Tara’s senses took over. Her legs wrapped round him, locking him to her, willing him to deepen his thrusts. She rose up to meet them, joyously reveling in the epitome of pleasure and as their union escalated, the ecstasy culminating in a rhythmic explosion, so intense, Tara couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. She could only feel.

This wasn’t sex.

For Tara, this was making love, beautiful, erotic and fulfilling love.

Happy reading

Jane Beckenham

Love, honor and romance at the turning of a page.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Writing hot scenes - Renee Michaels

Question: What gets me in the mood to write a love scene?

Answer: I can be pretty moody, so to do this it would depend on the actual scene--- Is she being seduced? In which case I have to be pretty mellow-- a glass of wine, a Godiva chocolate, or after a hot bath with my favorite soap. Is it a feverish coupling -- rock music-- Billy Idol is a favorite to get the blood pumping, but the he is allpurpose--he is good for a fight scene too. (~Renee Michaels, A Wild Ride To Paradise)

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Writing hot scenes - Angel Martinez

: What do you do to get into the mood for writing hot scenes?

Answer: I need quiet, first and foremost. Nothing kills a good love scene like someone yelling 'Mom, the cat threw up again!'. If I truly need a jump start, I'll go back and re-read a favorite love scene or two. Once my characters get going, though, they've got the wheel. I just hang on for the ride. ~ Angel Martines, the author of Finn

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

What do you do to get into the mood for writing 'hot'?

Attention all authors! What do you do to get into the mood for writing the hot scenes in your books?

Here's an answer from Eve Summers, author of "Fiji on Fire, Fiji on Ice":
Here's an excerpt from "Fiji on Fire, Fiji on Ice":

The Hot and Bothered Cocktail Recipe

2 oz DeKuyper® Buttershots liqueur
1 oz Bailey's® Irish cream
1 oz Godiva® chocolate liqueur
6 oz sweet coffee with cream

Pour Buttershots, Bailey's and Godiva into a mug of hot coffee, stir and serve.

That afternoon, Tanya stretched out on a massage table in one of the resort’s over-the-water bungalows. The strain was getting to her. Jack was not responding to her emails and she couldn’t find him in any of their usual chat rooms. It was a disaster.

“Something energizing?” asked the masseuse. “Something fun?”

“Something soothing.”

She buried her face in the padded opening in the table. The floor was glass and she could see the ocean below. She heard the waves lapping against the bungalow’s wooden poles. The smell of frangipani and sandalwood oils hit her nostrils and she relaxed.

Strong slim fingers pressed into her shoulders, massaging away the knots and the stress bubbles. Tanya’s long sigh of relief grew into a soft moan of pleasure.

The woman’s hands never left Tanya’s skin as they rubbed tiny circles into her shoulders. Tanya’s muscles loosened, her body went deliciously slack and her thoughts turned to jelly. The woman stroked her back lower and lower, all the way to her buttocks. A far-away part of her brain wondered whether that was really appropriate, but it didn’t care for the answer.

Buttocks, legs, calves. Heel, ball of the foot, toes. The spaces between the toes. The sweet smell and the self-assured fingers. Bliss.

“Please turn over.”

“Huh?” Tanya didn’t want to move.

“Here, let me help.” The masseuse cradled her like a child against the twin pillows of her breasts, rolled her onto her side, then onto her back. The fingers resumed their magic. Quick staccato, like raindrops, on the scalp, temples, cheeks, jaw line. Long kneading strokes on the arms, hands, fingers. Feather caresses on the stomach, comforting yet oddly arousing. Through the haze of her tranquility, Tanya’s body began to respond to the pulse of the massage, her breath matching the tempo of the masseuse’s fingers.

It was all Andy’s fault.