Possessing Wilde

books

Hello beautiful readers, Possessing Wilde is now available to download and read! This is Book Two of a Wilde Series (there are three books total).

After proclaiming their love for one another in the Big Apple on Christmas Day, then consummating shortly after (of course), Adele Vega and Clarence Wilde have a new hurdle that is no longer the previous student-teacher issue … distance.

Not to worry, three hours one way is nothing in the name of love.

But what of the rich, young, model good-looking, intelligent, French speaking Celine? And what will happen when Clarence moves in with Celine and her family to learn the ropes of the book selling industry? Or when Adele realizes it is she who Celine is after?

Click HERE if you’d like to read!! As always, let me know what you think on Amazon, or feel free to send me an email through HERE.

xo Elizabeth

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what makes my panties wet

books, Thoughts, Writing

Don’t get me wrong, I hold great respect for romance writers, and needless to say, all writers no matter the genre–especially self-published (how many hats do we take on?) I love the passion of readers, and I also know how difficult it is to publish prolifically like many authors I’ve seen consistently pull off week after week, month after month, year after year. You (author) are SO inspiring to me! You help me to aspire to work even harder at my craft (alongside the inspiration and genius of the literary greats, but that’s another blog post).

Specifically in the romance/erotic romance genre, I’ve noticed a trend that I don’t exactly understand what the mass appeal of it is (and I can only assume it started with books featuring Fabio on the cover, and a certain number of Shades of you know which color) …

The trend is: alpha male (dominant man who knows how to get what he wants, is outspoken, confident, generally non-emotional, usually is a CEO with a billion dollars, and after much contention with his machismo inner turmoil, only melts at the knees of the woman he has conquered), and his submissive female counterpart (there’s never a female billionaire CEO, usually she isn’t that interesting, and if she isn’t completely submissive, it is made clear that she is definitely more meek in comparison to the man, made most apparently by her following his lead).

I get it. Write for your audience, right? Why change what works, especially in such a defined genre? I understand that a large number of readers of this genre read this particular genre to ESCAPE (I mean, why else is a HEA even a thing?) And that’s fine–again, I get it. Hey! I like happy endings. I also like endings that make sense, be it happy or not. I also understand that sometimes The Sound and the Fury just isn’t good airplane or bedtime reading material.

But as writers, why can’t we occasionally–if not usually–challenge ourselves and our readers by defying stereotypes in order to pave a path for new stories, characters, and tropes?

Here’s a question: am I the only one who gets wet over a sensitive, intelligent, shy, and physically imperfect (not made of muscles and/or no perfectly sculpted mountain man beard), yet cute, man? Or how about a confident, smart, headstrong, beautiful (still not physically perfect), well-read woman who has a potty mouth and enjoys a good fuck?

When I wrote Taking Wilde, my goal was to satisfy what romance/erotic romance readers expect, while also (hopefully) defying expectations and transcending what it means to escape into a world of relationships, love, work, drama, and sex (within the context of a slightly absurd premise). I wrote a novella that I would be interested in reading; I love reading about SEX, I love LOVE, and I really enjoy REAL PEOPLE.

Cara Delevigne and David Kross were my muses for the two main characters in Taking Wilde. Delevingne and Kross are hot in my opinion, but not for the most obvious reason (physicality). There’s something strong, witty, and zero-fucks-given in Delevigne that is a turn on. And what isn’t adorable about Kross? His humble and seemingly shy demeanor alone makes me melt. Oh, do tell me you’ve seen/read The Reader.

Why can’t we all try it? Something new. Who knows … maybe one of these days I’ll take on the alpha male-submissive female challenge. Perhaps I was on my way to doing so with 40-Love.

remembrance, sex

Other Author's Writings, Writing

“I would ask myself what o’clock it could be; I could hear the whistling of trains, which, now nearer and now farther off, punctuating the distance like the note of a bird in a forest, shewed me in perspective the deserted countryside through which a traveller would be hurrying towards the nearest station: the path that he followed being fixed for ever in his memory by the general excitement due to being in a strange place, to doing unusual things, to the last words of conversation, to farewells exchanged beneath an unfamiliar lamp which echoed still in his ears amid the silence of the night; and to the delightful prospect of being once again at home.”

Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past: Swann’s Way

“He came. He left. Nothing else had changed. I had not changed. The world hadn’t changed. Yet nothing would be the same. All that remains is dreammaking and strange remembrance.” 

André Aciman, Call Me By Your Name

madeleine, macaron, peach

papillae faded, remembrance no more.

Tasted sweeter than above, I remember.

Below, the taste,

my dearest clit.

Tongue.

Excerpt from “40-Love”

Writing

Coming soon, my new short story that is a part of my short and sexy series of books!

JONNY

Kasey is in the stands, well, standing out. 

In a bloody hot way. 

What else is new? 

She’s wearing that short, almost see-through white dress that drives me nuts, topped with red blocky high-heels. Her long brownish-blonde hair drifts casually over her shoulders.

Really. Who looks like that at a tennis match? 

I wish she’d just pack up and leave. This is the match of a lifetime; the deciding factor between going to regionals, or not. The team is tied in won and lost matches—it’s up to me to pull off the victory. And here Kasey is distracting me with her cheers of encouragement and those bouncing, bountiful breasts. I can’t forget her smile and eyes, either. Despite what most may think, it was her emerald green eyes and perfectly kind smile with those peach-like lips that I couldn’t stop thinking about when I first met her. 

And to this day, I still can’t stop obsessing over. 

I know it’s wrong.

In all actuality, is it really? We’re not related, but I still find myself feeling guilty when I stroke my cock each night thinking about my stepsister. 

You’re going to get a boner right now if you don’t stop. 

Not only that, but she’s also my best friend—sort of my only friend. The guys on the team are like brothers to me, and sure, we hang out and have fun, but I’m not close to any of them like I am with Kasey. She gets every part of me, not just the tennis part. She knows what makes me tick, what I love, my fears, hopes, and favorite anything. She remembers what kind of coffee and cream I prefer, and can usually guess what I’ll order at a restaurant. 

It’s like we share the same mind. 

To top it all off, our conversation is so natural that I don’t even think about it as “conversing”. We simply talk and know what to talk about, though we’re just fine with sitting in silence, too. 

Kasey has this way of driving me to the brink. The way she teased me—pushed me—on purpose that day after she fell on the tennis court and drove me to do the unthinkable …