Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Women Writing Men Doing Men With Fierce Dolan!

Today I have something really special to share. My guest author today is Fierce Dolan. I read Fierce's articulate comments on-line and was so impressed, I begged Fierce to write a short piece for Seven Sexy Scribes. The question that came up on-line a short while ago was, "why are so many straight women writing and reading M/M romance between two male lovers?" It's a fascinating topic that made me wonder if it is a trend for the merely curious or is this something more, a sea change in how our culture views romantic love? Wouldn't that be nice.

Fierce Dolan also has a new novella available "Journal of a Lycanthrophile", Book One of The Scattered Dark Series. This is the provocative cover.

Women Writing Men Doing Men

It’s a cultural staple that straight men dig girl-on-girl, or better yet—the mythological Hot Bi Babe waiting to indulge every het couple’s desire—which a lot of men still reduce to girl-on-girl. A lesser known fact is that women write (and read) the majority of m/m erotica on the market today, and the booming smut industry wants to know why.

First off, let’s distinguish between gay fiction and m/m fiction. Gay fiction generally encompasses the journey of the character, that is, some reality of an LBGTQ life path cloaked in a fictional portrayal. Despite the made up plot and circumstances, the character’s journey is the emphasis, shaped by factors of sexual orientation, possibly gender identity, community acceptance or creation.

M/M fiction is subtly different. It focuses primarily on romance. The romantic engagement of guys is the plot. All circumstances revolve around it, all conflict and resolution, so mote it be. Yes, some women write lauded gay fiction (Brokeback Mountain), though the majority of feminine chromosomes in the homoerotic market write m/m. Why? What’s wrong with writing the good old-fashioned bodice rippers hidden under our matriarchal elders night stands?

Well, nothing, if you like that sort of thing. But what if you don’t? There's been a lot of speculation on why female authors write M/M romance/erotica, some very good insights included in the resources at the end of this blog.

Basic preference is the simplest factor. Maybe guy-on-guy is a secret treat the author writes because it’s what she wants to read. Maybe it’s something else. For some, sex with a man from the female viewpoint isn’t as literarily titillating as through the masculine perspective, which encompasses different permissions, roles, allowances, desires, sensations, sensitivities, even plot choices.

Along that line, many female purveyors of m/m erotica cite lack of projected gender roles as a factor in their reading selections. In a M/F coupling, roles are automatic. We don't consciously think about it as readers, and as writers we don't realize how much we draw on those societal assumptions to fill out character and plot. The woman is the weaker character if not sub, while the man is assumed the hero, until otherwise shown. In m/m, f/f, genderqueer romance, assuming that it's not a fetish genre, it's a wide open field. Anyone can hold the power. Anyone can behave as zhe likes. Within that freedom there is greater range to tell a new story, to have a fresh angle, to create brand (spanking) new gender, thus sexual, dynamics.

Some authors write m/m erotica because they feel obligated to. Sensitivity to sexual orientation, gender perception, biogender, and the social voice of those who identify as other than straight calls them to present in fiction what many readers would never pick up to read in nonfiction.

In the end, do we know why women write m/m erotica, or why the audience for it is dominated by women? Who can say? Artistically speaking, authors who don’t think in a box can’t write in one. If an author’s internal landscape doesn’t assume a m/f pairing the author can never convincingly write one. My question is, why shouldn't women write m/m erotica?

Do you write or read /m erotica? Share your thoughts on the genre and what role it plays in your world view.

Fierce is the gender-lite erotica author of as many pansexual, genderneutral, life-loving configurations as zhe can think of. Latest release to note is Journal of a Lycanthrophile, Book One of The Scattered Dark Series.

~ erotica author,Fierce Dolan, Words Without Limits and the blog

Buy link:

Frolic with Fierce on:
Words Without Limits

Lambda Literary -
The Marconis -
Alex Beecroft -
Kergan Edwards -

Thank you Fierce! 

Tuesday, January 29, 2013


Taking the good with the bad.
Lately I’ve received an influx of reviews. There’s been a mixture of good and bad. I’m happy to say most have been positive. It’s the negative that sometimes leave me baffled.
One reviewer said if you can get past the heroine, the book was good. First and foremost I’d like to say, thanks for taking the time to buy and read my book. I really, really do appreciate it. More than you’ll know…I’m just confused. The heroine is a huge part of the book. If you don’t like her how did you like the book?
Talking with two other authors we’ve come to the conclusion we really need to look at the review itself. Is it poorly written, could the reviewer have a bone to pick? I’m not referring to the review above when I ask these questions. I’m asking them in general.
The truth is when I go back and re-read some of the reviews I have to take the comments with a grain of salt.
You can benefit from reviews though, even the negatives. I believe we can grow from others comments and critiques.
Another thing I hear a lot is “the book was great, I just wish it were longer.” I believe I’m not alone here. A lot of writer’s get this. In the beginning I’d get pissed and want to scream. It’s a f*ing novella, it’s supposed to be short. Now I’ve decided to look at the positive side of it. The reviewer wanted more. He/she wished it were longer because they liked it and craved more.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. :o) Besides, it feels better when you see it in a positive light.
Yes, I read reviews. It’s just part of the writing game. What I don’t do is allow them to consume me with grief and heartache. I accept that it’s one or more person’s opinion and they have a right to express how they feel. How I interpret those opinions is up to me. 

Saturday, January 26, 2013


Been so busy cleaning out rooms, I iz crapped out...

Not getting much writing done, but getting lots of stuff packed up and into storage boxes. Arranging things so I can get another bedroom free for human occupation once again.  I have forgotten what real work is lately.  I sit on my fanny all day.  I just found muscles I forgot I had.

Hope everyone is enjoying the new year...hopefully you are busy with writing (unlike me) and are getting stuff subbed so I can read more books.

Going to kick my feet up and watch some TV for a few, while my back stops screaming at me.


Fran Lee

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

"Tempestuous" Tropical Temptation With Nicole Morgan.

My guest today is Nicole Morgan. I have to say that looking at her book covers and reading the blurb is so tempting it's almost cruel! It makes me want to run away to a tropical beach and have fun. Nicole has so many steamy books headed our way she is single-handedly going to heat up our winter. Thank you Nicole!

Nicole Morgan:
Hi everyone! I’m uber excited to be here with the Seven Sexy Scribes! Thanks for having me as a guest here today guys! Tomorrow is my release of the 2nd book in my Incessant Passions series, Tempestuous. January has been a great month for me, with the 1st book in the same series, Impetuous being released on January 10th.  And, I have another book due out February 7th so be sure to watch for Surrounded by Roses!

Now without further adieu, here is my new baby, Tempestuous


Michelle Englehurst finally has her dream job working in a tropical paradise doing what she loves. A routine day at work proves to be more than what it seemed. Her new client Brad Conrad is charming, handsome, and causes a reaction in her like no other man has.
Brad is on a forced vacation by his father, who claims he’s overworked. Begrudgingly, he takes his sabbatical with no intention of enjoying himself. A chance encounter with a woman he can’t get out of his mind changes Brad’s workaholic ways. He finds himself extending his trip and doing everything in his power to spend more time with her.
For days and then weeks the two of them walk a fine line of casual friendship to lascivious intentions. With time working against the two, they are faced with two choices, take a chance or throw caution to the wind and be…tempestuous.

Erotic Excerpt:

Her soft and sweet voice begging him was his undoing. He should have been slow and gentle. He should have eased himself inside her entrance with care and patience. There were a million things he should have done, but in that moment in time, he failed at them all.
In one thrust, he slid inside her. The tightness he felt around his finger was nothing compared to the intensity he felt as her pussy clenched around his cock. He shouted in both pleasure and pain as his dick throbbed and his balls drew up tight. His orgasm was just lingering beneath the surface, threatening to come if he dare moved.
Her insides were trembling as the walls of her pussy squeezed onto his cock, pumping him. He was completely lost to the slick vise which held him so intently. She was in control, and he was her prisoner. Nothing else mattered as the outside world as he knew it floated away.
He wasn’t even aware his eyes were shut until he felt the gentle tickle of her fingertips raking his stomach. His vision was blurry when he first blinked and tried to focus his gaze on her. After a few attempts he could see her clearly. Her eyes were swimming and looked like there was a dangerous storm of the richest dark chocolate swirling around inside them.
No longer did she look nervous and uncertain. Now she looked magnificent. Better than magnificent, she looked stunning. Her hair was haphazardly lying around her face and landed in a tangled mess against the pillow under her head.
Her plump and delicious lips that he had kissed only a few times, but already knew so well, were pursed together in a silent moan of pleasure. Her cheeks were flushed, her nipples turgid, and they looked like they could be made of stone. The way they stood at attention just like his cock. He knew how wrong he was, how sweet those rosy colored nubs tasted while he worked them in his mouth with his tongue and between his teeth.
The thought made him crave to taste her somewhere else, somewhere he was snugly nestled inside. Even though he would probably give up his life’s fortune to taste the sweet juice of her pussy, he wasn’t leaving from where he was. She made his cock feel too damn good with the sweet anguish her tight channel was causing. The pleasure far outweighed the pain of trying to hold back.
She whimpered and flexed her hips, obviously trying to get him to move with her. Fuck, he was barely holding on as it was. If he moved even a little, if he allowed her compact, little pussy to caress his cock, if only for a second, he was a goner. He forced himself to regain control. He hadn’t been this helpless to a woman’s pussy since he was sixteen years old.
Shit, he was pissed at himself. Please her, damn it! Make her feel good! You finally have her, so don’t be a selfish prick and get off before she does.
She continued to move her hips. Her head was moving from side to side against the pillow. Her focus was no longer on him as she tried desperately to work his dick in and out of her.
The slight motion she was able to create was bringing that familiar itch he knew all too well. It crawled through his insides, poking at every nerve ending in his body, screaming to him to fuck her until he no longer felt the agony of holding on.
He refused to give in to it yet. With a shaky hand, he slid his finger through the moist folds of her pussy. Her clit, already swollen, was easy to find, and as he barely touched it, her whole body shook and she screamed.
Her shriek was unlike anything he had ever heard. The way her body bucked under the tiniest, little touch made her look like some sort of mythical creature sent down from the heavens to teach the world how glorious sex could be. His balls cursed him for making them hold on when he was so close.
With increased pressure, he circled her clit once again then flicked his thumb on the center of it, paying special attention to the throb he could feel emanating from it. She was close, so close he forgot about his own agony and focused on her, needing to watch and see her fall under his ministrations.
“Come for me, baby. Now.”
He somehow channeled the energy of a thousand men as he worked her clit into a frenzy, and she writhed, bucked, and moaned as her head shook violently from side to side until finally, in one moment of splendor, she screamed his name.
Then he felt it.
Hot fluid, which could only be described as hot molten lava, poured over his cock, coating him and carrying him on a wild ride of pleasure. Her pussy clenched, squeezed, and pumped around his dick in a wave of euphoria.
He bit out the curse as his balls told him to go to hell because they were no longer capable of holding back. Instead, they were going to get lost in the sensation and find release in her. With a fierce grip, he grabbed onto her sides and jerked his hips uncontrollably as his restraint broke and the first spurts of his cum  finally broke free, filling his condom.

Nicole Morgan Bio:
Nicole Morgan is a multi-published author of erotic romantic novels, which more often than not have a suspenseful back story. Erotic romance mixed with a good old-fashioned whodunit. While she's written everything from contemporary to paranormal her leading men will more than likely be wearing a uniform of some kind. From military to police officers, she has a love for writing about those who protect and serve. From her very first novel (which turned into a four book series) about Navy SEALs to her more recent releases you will be sure to find a few twists and turns you were not expecting.
In additional to her books, Nicole also has a recurring column called, "Sex and the Single Woman" in BT Showcase's online eMagazine. Also, she has recently partnered up with three of her author friends and became Four Seduced Muses, a blog dedicated to the steamier side of romance.

Nicole’s website:

Thank you Nicole for being our guest. Please come back soon and tempt us with more! 

In My Writing Cave

I’m writing a themed book under a deadline of 2/15 so I’m busy. Wish I could post something thought provoking, but yeah, right. That’s not me. LOL

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Been sick in bed for a WEEK!

And I've read nearly everything on these shelves...

Good grief!  I have only gotten on my computer like twice? And in those two times, I have read four novels in e-book format?  Sigh.  I wish I could write as fast as I can read.

Don't think I had the flu, even though it's going through my family.  Just a nasty virus that made me want to sleep 20 hours a day and not much else.  No fever.  No chills.  No upper respiratory garbage.  Just tired and yucky.

Hope everyone else is not feeling yucky.  I know we have been having an almost epidemic bout of the various flus this year.  I found something natural that kept us all from getting it last year, but I was the only one of my family that had a slight rash as a reaction to the homeopathic cure.

Ever heard of Lomatium?  It's a plant root that you can pulverize and soak in distilled water, or edible oils or alcohols like vodka or even take in capsules.  It keeps the flu at bay much better than those icky flu shots with all their icky ingredients.  And only one in a thousand has the side affect I mentioned...a roseola type rash that doesn't hurt or irritate...just looks awful.  And I of course was that one in a thousand.  My luck.  I didn't do Lomatium this year, because of that rash...but I think I will be taking it for the next week, rash or no.

You can get it online in a dozen different formulas...I bought a pound of the chopped dried root and pulverized it myself.  Looks like I'll be heading to the liquor store for a pint of Smirnoff's black label.  Soak a teaspoon of the root in a cup of vodka for about ten days, then strain out the soaked material.  A few drops under the tongue (No...not a shot at a time) each day during flu season.

 Shoulda done it right off...but I hate vodka.


Fran Lee 


Thursday, January 17, 2013

Foot Fetish?

Let’s talk female footwear!

Back in the day, gorgeous, sexy shoes and boots were my Achilles heel. I would gladly eat ramen noodles and turn down the thermostat if it meant I could purchase another pair! Slim heels, wedges, platforms, I loved them all.

Leaving Lady Gaga, the fashion runways, and bedroom f*ck-me-shoes out of this discussion, when did it become fashionable to wear shoes that you can barely stand up in?? What is sexy about a woman teetering, stiff legged, as if she’s a newbie stilt walker?

I was a nervous wreck as Golden Globe nominees clutched onto the helpers for support while descending the few stairs after leaving their interviews with Ryan Seacrest.

 And I’m relatively sure the popular stance in magazine pictures of one leg at a strange, tight angle in front of the other, is the woman’s valiant attempt to keep from face-planting on the ground!

These days, tennis shoes in many styles and colors are the only things that adorn my feet. At least I’m not worried about sustaining a mortal injury while walking from here to there!

Have a great weekend!


Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Riding The Waves With Jennifer LaRose!

My guest today is the wonderful Jennifer LaRose. Isn't this book cover featuring Jimmy Thomas amazing? This entire book is something special. Here's a little taste.

Riding the Waves by Jennifer LaRose

Annalee Parschen is devastated when she discovers her soon-to-be ex-fiancé has been having a secret BDSM tryst with her best friend. Crushed, she wonders how anyone could find a sexual thrill in punishment or submission. Then she’s reunited with Brent Delaney, a former coworker who still ignites her flame. Though they’ve never had sex, she’s taken him home in her fantasies countless times. Turns out he’s been wanting to take her home, too. And he has a thing or two to teach her about finding pleasure in submission.
Brent is now a private sea fighter who guards his employer’s ships from piracy in the China Sea. He returns to the States after a daring ocean rescue. He’s thrilled to be reunited with Annalee, even more so when he gets to introduce her to his dominant side. Unfortunately the murderous pirate he put behind bars has escaped, and he’s seeking revenge—against Brent, and anyone he loves.


     All brawn with brains. Jesus, who could ask for more? Had he married Marie, or Marci, or Mary, or whatever her name was?
“Reality to Annalee.” Wow, thoughts of him still had the capability of pulling her in far and fast. She took a deep breath, grabbed the shopping bag, climbed out of the SUV and entered the house, fanning her face. Damn, her heart pounded.
And so did her pussy. Tiny, thumping sensations pulsated against her panties as if her clit had a miniature heartbeat of its own.
What on earth was wrong with her? Was she so sexually deprived something as simple as a voice turned her on? Geez, she needed to stop thinking about Brent and focus on the man she planned to marry. The man she had every intention of seducing the minute he walked through the door. Jared had better get home on time.
Warm air, fragrant with the scent of watermelon, embraced her when she stepped into the kitchen. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply.
Morton, her eight-year-old Persian cat rubbed his furry body against her ankles, startling her. But she welcomed the distraction. It put her thoughts into perspective. She opened her eyes and bent down to pet him between the ears. “Hi. How’s my little guy? Did you miss Mommy?”
He meowed, made a complete circle around her leg before sticking his pink nose in the air, snubbing her. “You little fart.” She laughed as he sauntered toward the family room. Stuck-up Morton liked attention on his terms only. A quick hello usually kept him content for the remainder of the evening.
After kicking off her shoes, she laid the shopping bag on the counter beside a decorative bowl of artificial vegetables, removed two baked potatoes wrapped in foil from the refrigerator and placed them in the oven. Brent Delaney? Unbelievable.
Yes, it was unbelievable how she reacted to him after all these years—like a sex-starved hussy. If she didn’t rid him from her thoughts, she’d be marching down the hallway for a tumble with her vibrator and there wouldn’t be any dinner tonight. She’d worked hard this morning prepping the meal and baking a cake, too. She wanted everything perfect. Hopefully she wouldn’t over-broil the steaks. They’d been marinating in a garlic herb sauce all day, but she was infamous for ruining a good cut of meat.
While the potatoes baked, she filled the bathtub with hot water and strawberry bubble bath. Anything fruity sat high on Jared’s list of preferences. Tonight she’d bring out the ammo. If Plan A, the costume, failed, she’d resort to Plan B. Wow, she had no Plan B. She’d conjure up something quick if the need arose.
She stripped off her clothes and inched into the steamy, hot tub. Heavens, it felt good. The bubbles disintegrated with a soft fizzing sound. She lay back with a long, content sigh, enjoying the therapeutic heat, but her gaze kept roaming to the shower head. The urge to detach it from the hook grew heavy. If she yanked it down now and used it, she’d likely be so relaxed she’d fall asleep before Jared arrived. Well, maybe one little spray to bring her to the verge of orgasm wouldn’t hurt. It would enhance her mood, and she’d crawl all over him until he couldn’t say no. It’s not like she wanted to change the sprinkle adjustment to pulse or anything. Just one measly shot of the water and she’d be good to go.
Oh God. Before jumping up and yanking the damn thing down, she bathed quickly and climbed out of the tub. After grabbing a stiff towel from the cabinet, she patted her lower half dry, being careful not to touch her overly sensitive crotch. Any contact to that area right now would send her flying back into the shower, and no doubt she’d change it to the pulse setting and hit the faucets full blast.
After patting the water off her arms, she doused herself with a strawberry-scented body spray. The vapors caused her to sneeze not once, but three times consecutively. When it completely evaporated on her skin and faded to a soft, sweet scent, she dressed in the harem costume and pulled on a long, furry robe to stay warm.
Because Jared was a prompt, never-a-minute-late man, she removed the robe at exactly 7:25, dimmed the lights and sat down at the table, crossing her legs. The flames from three tapered candles danced enticingly, and she’d topped off the décor with two glasses of white wine.
Those candles…long and lean and durable and bendable when warm…she’d completely lost her frigging mind.
The kitchen glowed with romance and passion. She loved her home. The black and multiple shades of orange she chose for the walls and floor gave it a warm, cozy feeling. It wasn’t too big or too tiny of a house, but was perfect for a small family.
Tonight, they would put an end to the boring, almost nonexistent lovemaking routine they’d fallen into. She’d dance the tango naked if she had to, or pole dance with the family room floor lamp. Aha, Plan B.
Seven forty-five slipped by, and then eight o’clock without any trace of Jared. Had the weather delayed him too?
Why hadn’t he called?
She stood abruptly, pulling on the robe, then dug the cell phone out of her purse and punched in his number. After three rings, her call transferred to voicemail. “Where are you, Jared? Call me.”
Now she worried. She began pacing the family room, stopping to glance outside through the picture window. The wind wasn’t blowing nearly as badly, but a heavy wall of snow continued to fall.
Rather than trudge back and forth in a never-ending path, she turned on the television, sat down on the couch, picked up her cell phone and called him again, only to encounter the same recording.
Where the hell could he be?
Time ticked by in long, agonizing, nail-biting minutes.
The thought of calling the highway patrol and local hospitals crossed her mind, but if something happened, someone surely would’ve contacted her by now.
She picked up her cell and called him once more. It didn’t ring and connected directly to voicemail. Apparently he’d shut off his phone. Why would he do that? To avoid talking to her?
What the hell?
From the moment she’d owned a cell phone, her dad impressed upon her to never turn it off, and to make sure she carried it wherever she went. That way she could be tracked if she’d gotten lost. Ever since, if not in her purse, she had it in a pocket or stuffed in a sock.
Too bad he hadn’t preached that theory to Jared. Were her attempts to fix their relationship like applying a Band-Aid to a gaping wound?

Riding The Waves is available today from Ellora's Cave!