Who is your muse?

Thoughts, Writing

I write for you, muse.

Play on, invisible harps, play on in my heart

Please visit me muse, ache of love.

I cannot go on without you,

Do not die, my unrequited muse

Dante Alighieri & Beatrice di Folco Portinari

Do not leave me muse and come back

Elizabeth Taylor & Richard Burton

Do not love the image of us, the muse, more than the reality

Jean-Luc Godard & Anna Karina

You, my wonder wild we kiss

Sweetheart, I come.

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Reveries

Thoughts

Is it possible to love the person you haven’t met yet? In most cases you don’t know who they are, only that they exist, and more likely than not, in a far away land, because that is how the Universe works; it makes you work for good things in life, and love is no exception. Nothing ever comes easy, does it? At least nothing that is worth it.

And what about Time? Does Time allow the two of you to meet before it is too late? Of course Time does, as there is all the Time in the world. But then Time’s relative named Circumstance comes in to play; Circumstance gets in the way by sending other people to float around the ether of your world to distract you from the pearl in the east–the pearl being your love.

Do not worry, Serendipity will overrule and bring you two together when least expected. Eventually, that is. Are you willing to wait? I am.

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.

Quick Thoughts on Bi-Sexuality

Thoughts, Writing

In my next book Possessing Wilde (now available to pre-order), subjects include bi-sexuality and a ménage à trois.

Personally, I identify as bi-sexual, and I fully realize the stigmas that occur when you even tell someone that you are bi (what, she’s so horny that she can’t just choose a gender and stick with it? Oh, this just must be a phase. (Trust me, I’ve heard both of those)).

Unfortunately, bi-sexuality (like any sexual orientation outside of heteronormativity) comes with many stereotypes, including (but certainly not limited to): promiscuity, fickleness, and indecisiveness.

I really am not PC, I just want my readers and any others who are reading this to know that it is not my intention to paint individuals who identify as bi as these sex-craved people who engage in a ménage à trois as regularly as drinking water. This event just happens to be a part of Possessing Wilde (I think it’s hot, sexy, and adds to the story).

My characters represent an assortment of sexual orientations: Clarence is heterosexual, Adele previously identified as heterosexual (after meeting Celine, she realizes she doesn’t really want to be labeled as anything), and Celine is bi-sexual.

Whatever you identify as–whether it be heterosexual, bi-sexual, homosexual, pansexual, a-sexual, sexual fluidity, and any other sexual orientations I am missing–it’s all good! Have fun, and be you.

40-Love is here!

books, Writing

40-Love, my new short & sexy book is officially released on Amazon. If you’d like a copy, click HERE.

Thank you so much for the support. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you’d like to chat, or if you want me to review or feature your writing/book. Let’s all support each other!

As always, keep reading.

xo Elizabeth

40-Love Excerpt

In the grand scheme of things, is obsessing over Kasey actually wrong? We’re not related, but I still find myself feeling guilty when I masturbate thinking about her each night. 

What’s worse, is sometimes I get off even harder by repeating in my head over and over that she is my stepsister. 

Stepsister.

Down boy.

Kasey is stepping out of the pool, showing off the maddening fact that she is glistening wet and highlighted in all the right places (ala Phoebe Cates “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”). The guys glance back to me and laugh while I practically pant in lust from the deep end of the pool.

Stay down boy, stay down. 

I dunk under water to cool off. 

Sure, everyone’s checking out Kasey just as much as I am, but it’s perfectly fine for them to do it. 

Not me.

I can’t help myself. I try not to look, but she’s just … there.  

Kasey’s breasts are rounded and big—not too big—but big enough so that they bounce and jiggle with her every movement, tantalizing onlookers with the question of am I going to stay in my place? Or will I pop out?

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.

Merry, Merry, LOVE!!

Thoughts

Hey everyone, I hope all of you are safe and enjoying the holidays.

I just wanted to let you guys know (in case you have a hankering to read about sex, romance, professor-student hot scandal, etc. etc.) that “Taking Wilde” is FREE right now on Amazon! It’s going to be free for three more days, then back to regular price. If you’re interested in downloading, click HERE.

Thanks again for the support. As always, keep reading!

xo Elizabeth

Random Thoughts

Thoughts

Hello everyone …

I just want to say that I appreciate each and every one of you out there. Contrary to what some may think, books are not dead, and writers are not hacks.

Whatever somebody’s motivations are for writing is through their own personal truth. I want to support any and all of you out there in any way I can through this site, my writings/books, and if you’d like me to read/review your work. As you can see, I am quite new on this particular blogging site, and I have a great deal more to come … it’s a slow burn.

Let us all look to one another with compassionate eyes.

xo Elizabeth

Excerpt #1 from “Taking Wilde”

Writing

“I’m trying to be good, Clarence,” I say, my voice pleading with him so that he’ll look at me. I can’t bear it when I don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling. 

“Well, don’t be.” Clarence says, turning his head completely toward me, holding my eyes with his. He doesn’t let me go—no, not that easily. We drink one another up. “Take a risk with me. Be bad, be good, whatever it is … just do it with me.” 

I am his. He is mine. 

“Adele,” he starts, then pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear, “in all the time I’ve known you, I haven’t once judged you. And as long as I keep knowing you, I never will.”

Just as I feel my lips turning upward into a smile, my eyes spring out tears. The more I try to stop the tears, the more they come out. I must look like a weepy mess. 

Clarence holds my body into his. 

My ear is pressed against his chest. I hear the rapid thudding of his heart. It quickens, matching the speed of mine. 

“Why are you crying?”

I open my mouth to speak, but instead, I heave. Clarence, thankfully, is quiet as he allows me to let out this emotional thing that has been pent up in me. His soft fingers twirl strands of my hair. His other hand rests on my back, assuring me that it’ll always be there no matter what. 

“Can I consider this our second date?” 

“What,” I start laughing through my tears, “dinner with your family?”

“I know, it’s a strange premise for a second date … you’ll have to let me take you on a proper one after this winter vacation, okay?” 

I think on what he says.

The taxi comes to a halt. I lift my head, feeling my hair sticking up and out. 

“Here,” the taxi driver says. 

“Okay, give us one minute,” Clarence says. He turns the overhead light on and looks at me, then giggles. 

“What?”  

“Here, let me fix you up. I personally think you look hot, but I’m sure you don’t want to walk in there looking like you have raccoon eyes.” 

“Like I’ve cried the whole way.”

Clarence shapes my hair. He dabs the end of his finger with his tongue, looks at his finger, then says, “Do you mind?” 

I shake my head ‘no’. He proceeds to wipe his wet finger underneath my eyes to smudge away my running mascara and eyeliner.