Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Wicked After Dark Blog Hop

For those of you visiting my website for the first time during this hop, some introductions are in order.

I am Ellison James and I write paranormal romance, paranormal romantic suspense, paranormal erotica, and general erotica. Whew, that was a mouthful. Some of you may be familiar with my titles including my first novel, Lovestruck Succubus - A story about a demon succubus who wants nothing more than to find love. Not just any love but true love, everlasting love, the kind of love she'd only seen in mortals. Trouble is, every time she tries to love a man, she succumbs to her needs ... and kills the man she's with. She thinks she is doomed to an eternity full of struggle between her desires and needs until she meets the one man able to survive her kind of love but he brings problems that threaten her very existence.

Anyway, that was my first novel, and I must say, it is not for the squeamish or one that is easily embarrassed if caught reading a particularly spicy part of the story in, oh ... let's say ... a doctor's office. I also have a sort of paranormal short erotic piece I wrote for a branded series called The Cusp of Libra. This book is free through Smashwords. Some of my bestselling contemporary fiction is a series I write about exhibitionism and voyeurism. In these stories, Wendy Parker discovers a new passion for what some might call 'performance' sex after watching her neighbors make love through her living room window--and getting caught.

My most recent novel is called Lexi's Run. Alexis is a werewolf princess who refuses to give in to her parents plans to have her mated with the son of the current pack Alpha. She runs away from her small town of Ellijay, Georgia and hops a bus to Atlanta only to fall asleep and wake up in Montgomery, Alabama. While hiding out in Montgomery, she manages to find more trouble than she would have had if she'd stayed in her small town. In the end though, she finds her true mate, catches some bad guys and saves the day.

But I'm sure you're not here reading this for a list of my work. I'm hoping you are participating in this hop for entertainment and enlightenment. So, here goes.

I thought since Halloween is fast approaching, I would ask the question: What is it that people find so intriguing about Vampires, Werewolves, Demons, Faeries, and even Mer-folks? My short answer is, intrigue. The long answer could go on forever, But I'll try to sum it up in just a few short sentences.

I think that what some find so intriguing about romantic or erotic stories of the paranormal is the ability to delve into unknown and unfamiliar worlds. In these worlds, we get to make up our own rules and, in some cases, can live on forever. This means that everything in the relationship is more intense. The sex is more intense, the love lasts for eternity, and the danger is often right there standing in your front door with an ax in its hand. This danger is especially intense when the main character of the story is a mere mortal and lacks all those special abilities writers like to imbue into there paranormal characters. Sometimes, if the main character is not mortal, they are made to suffer in some way for their immortality.

Here's an example of this struggle from my first novel, Lovestruck Succubus.

She felt the rush of energy through her body.  It started from deep within her, and emanated in all directions in waves of heat and electricity.  Pain and pleasure mixed in a borderless realm without thought or control.  Every movement was too much but she could not stop herself from moving, thrusting, and gyrating for more.  Energy left Jerry's body from everywhere.  It hung in a cloud tingling her skin to the point of stinging, but pleasurable, as her body absorbed it all.

She slowly regained control of her own movement as the cloud dissipated and her waves of orgasm subsided.  She was frozen in place, every movement too intense, and every inch of her body too sensitive.  Jerry had fallen silent and she knew he was gone.  She pulled off him, avoiding eye contact, and slid down off the bed.

After cleaning up in the bathroom, she slid her panties back on and smoothed her dress.  She felt a flood of conflicting emotions surfacing and she took some deep breaths to stave them off.

The harder Azra tried to push back those feelings that always followed her own satiation, the more they came to the surface.  She was exhilarated and depressed at the same time.  A muddy stain of conflict and depression seeped through her halo of energy and euphoria.  She always felt this way afterward but sensed it came from the desire she felt to somehow make all these men love her, and the realization that her kind of love brought them only death.  Now, even with her resolve to use this man only for her needs, she felt empty.  She only managed to prove she felt remorse for any man, not just the ones she liked.

She stood at the side of the bed and looked at Jerry, his body now just a shell, his lifeless eyes glazed over.  They seemed focused on nothing, on some endless distance overhead.  Dull eyes set in pale orbs, surrounded by flimsy ashen skin—a death mask.  The room was silent, not even the sounds of the city below permeated the quiet, as if the world paid homage to the recently departed.

Why can't I make this work?  She thought.  Can I not learn to survive without this?

Azra thought about Tarmin.  "Learn to love within your own kind," He had said to her so many times.

But, she could never be satisfied with his version of love.  She needed this intimacy, this sex with mortal men for her very survival.  If she could find a man to love her without sex, she would gladly accept her fate and perish, if only she could gain some control of her base need.  Between survival and love, her instinct simply moved her to survival.  Finally, at an emotional impasse, she looked at Jerry one last time.

"Goodbye Jerry," she said aloud, as tears tracked down her cheeks.

Emotions flooded her soul.  Depression and self-hatred once again stabbed through the cloud of euphoria, staining her heart with darkness.  She ran out of the room and down the stairs to avoid showing her tear-soaked face.  She left the hotel promising herself she would never return—and never fall prey to her silly thoughts of finding mortal love again.

I certainly hope this provided an example of the kind of struggle that can be found in the paranormal. Since I spent so much time talking about my first novel, I would like to offer a signed copy of Lovestruck Succubus, chosen randomly from those leaving comments on this post. So, just leave a comment on this post for a chance of receiving a free copy of my first novel in paperback form (or ebook, if you prefer) sent to you home or reading device.

Saturday, October 13, 2012


I offer this for your perusal and opinion. I will be publishing another work of short erotic fiction soon. The story is a continuation of my Sex in Public series. This series has become quite popular for reasons unknown to me. Well, I guess one reason is that it explores the world of exhibitionism and voyeurism. I try to get into the mind of my main character, Wendy Parker, as she embarks on a new experience, and grows increasingly dependent upon the rush of adrenaline, the excitement of risk and exposure that comes with engaging in sex in clear view of others or in public places.

Presented here is the draft for the first scene in the story I've tentatively named Center Stage. In this story, Wendy will take her experiences to a new level. Sure, she's already enjoyed engaging in a kind of competitive sex dual with the couple across the street but now she will be presented the opportunity to actually participate in sex for the entertainment of others. I've done some research on this and found the activity does exist.

Anyway, please read if you would like and do not hesitate to give me your thoughts; good, bad, or other than beautiful. Also, for those interested, I will be giving those on my mailing list a free copy of this when it is published.

"All the world's indeed a stage, and we are merely players, performers and portrayers. Each another's audience outside the gilded cage."
~Rush, Moving Pictures
My body stiffened from the jarring noise of the door buzzer--something I was not used to hearing, especially now that Rick was living with me. Even more bothersome to me was that someone was actually standing outside our door at such a late hour. Rick was startled too, his hand coming to a sudden stop just over the inside curve of my lower back. I gave him a couple of knowing pats on his shoulder and he withdrew from me with a sigh. I looked to the lighted apartment window across the street and saw Trip Tanner and his wife, who's name I still did not know, had stopped their lovemaking, probably wondering why we had stopped our own exhibitionist show.

"Just a minute," I yelled toward the door, as I slid off the back of the couch, my core already feeling cold and wanting of Rick's marvelous lips and tongue.

I grabbed my robe off the floor, glancing at our wall clock as I threw the robe around me and cinched it closed. It was nearly midnight and again I wondered why the hell someone was buzzing my door at such a late hour.

"Who is it?" I reached for the locks but held back, waiting for a response.

"Courier service, ma'am," sounded from the other side of the door.

I opened the door to find a young dark-haired man holding a rectangular box in one hand and an electronic signature board in the other. He thrust the box and the signature board to me at the same time, while mumbling "sign for the package ma'am." and staring at my breasts so hard I had to check to make sure my robe was closed. Rick slid in beside me, squeezing through the door frame to take the box, then disappearing again as he brought it into the apartment. The young courier broke from his stare and looked up at me. His eyes flashed disappointment, probably because I wasn't alone, and then sank back down to my chest again. The courier pulled a little plastic stylus from the side of the board and I signed for the box in an area too small to make my signature look anything but childish. When I was finished, he took the board from me, haphazardly throwing it under his arm, while cranking his stare up my eyes again. This time his eyes reflected impatient waiting.

"I don't have any money on me for a tip," I patted my bathrobe as if checking for hidden pockets full of money, immediately embarrassed at my own gesture.

He said nothing, only returning his gaze at my chest and shifting on his feet.

"Maybe this will suffice for a tip," I said, as I pulled the collar of my robe apart, slowly revealing my breasts to the courier. I felt a smile spread across my face, and a devious thrill raised the hair on my arms and pinched my nipples tight. I caught a glimpse of the young man's mouth falling open as I turned, allowing my robe to fall as the door eased shut behind me. As soon as I heard the click of the door closing, I scooped up my robe, nearly running to the kitchen table where Rick waited to open the mysterious box.

The box was a standard cardboard affair, brown paper wet and stick tape holding it closed. Rick pulled the tape free and opened the box. inside was another box but not of cardboard. This box was made of dark wood with a solid clasp on the front and two brass hinges on the back. It was the size of a large shoebox. Together, we swatted the cardboard box away and gently placed the wooden box in its place on the table. I rubbed my hands together at the anticipation of what might be inside the box. I could tell Rick was excited too by the way his tongue slipped out the side of his mouth and he held it in place with his teeth. The wooden box was stained dark with ancient-looking carvings on every side. There was no note or return address from the cardboard box. I began to wonder who sent the box, and why. Was this some kind of cruel joke, or an anonymous gift from some unknown past acquaintance?

Rick placed the wooden box ceremoniously on the table and unfastened the clasp, while I squeezed in beside him and wrapped my arms around his waist. My body warmed to a tingle with the thought of what might be inside the box. I was strangely excited, my skin bristling with nervous anticipation. I certainly was not expecting such a delivery, and I could not help but wonder if Rick's reaction was just part of some devious plan he'd conjured up--some surprise he planned. He'd already proven his ability to plan surprises of epic proportion with his proposal in Seoul. Now, the suspense and wonder had me standing on my toes until they cramped, and squeezing my arms around Rick so tight it had to be hurting him. He gave not indication of pain, only smiling at me as he opened the clasp, deliberate and painfully slow, to reveal the contents inside.

Inside the box was a simple envelope seated inside an elaborate frame atop a false bottom. On the envelope in gold was the word "Invitation" handwritten in a fancy script style.

"Do you know anything about this?" I gave Rick a probing look, knowing that I would see through him if he was keeping something from me.

He looked directly at me and said, "I know nothing of this. I'm as surprise as you."

His look and demeanor did not falter. I knew he was telling the truth. One thing I'd learned about Rick through our relationship was that he was too proud to properly hide his sly smile when he was trying to surprise me. I took the envelop from the box and turned it over. It actually had a wax seal hold the flap closed. Till then, I'd only seen an envelope sealed with wax, like in the movies. I broke the seal, opened the flap, and pulled the folded weighty paper out. On the paper was written:
An invitation from a friend.
Accept, and intrigue will soon begin.
So, join us on the morrow's night,
and immerse yourself in voyeur's delight.
From this, you'll find your only sin
is wishing it would never end.

Under the poem was an address and instructions stating that the masks must be worn throughout the night's events. Masks? I ripped at the false bottom of the fancy wooden box, pulling it away to reveal two stunning masquerade masks. They were both simple but elegant. They did not have brash feathering or long beakish noses. Instead they were both tasteful, with golden piping around the edges and eloquent scrolling. I felt Rick's hand moving down my side, over the curve of my hips before circling my ass and squeezing.

"Should we go?" He asked, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Of course we'll go." I turned and brought my hands up to his broad shoulders. "Sounds exciting, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I'm excited." a smile worked its way across his face and his eyes flashed devious. "Can't you tell?"

I could tell. I felt his hardness pressing against my stomach through my robe as he pulled me into him. I had a devious thought of my own, and pulled away from him, searching his eyes for sign of agreement before continuing with my request.

"Let's put on the masks." I watched as his smile stretched further and he moved his head slowly in affirmation.

We grabbed the masks out of the box, nearly running as we headed to our bedroom.

So, please tell me what you think of this opening. Does it pique your interest? is it sexy enough? Can you understand the characters even if you had not read the first two stories? Again, I'll provide this story free to those on my mailing list for those interested. Thank you.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

A Novel Adventure

Yesterday, I attended my first author event. I was pleasantly surprised of the outcome.

You see, this was not the standard event where the author goes to some book store loaded with books and giveaway items hoping to snare passersby, it was something altogether different. Yesterday I set up a table at a local flea market.

I know, it seems strange and counter intuitive to do such a thing but I was quite surprised at the results. I sold more books than expected and most of all, met many new friends-wonderful people, some aspiring authors.

I was offered this opportunity by a friend of mine who attends this event on the first weekend of each month with their father who sells tools. Yes, I had my little table set up next to some guy hawking tools at a flea market. But I didn't go for the hard sell, instead, I simply drew passersby to my table with the offer of free mints and a free bookmark. Once they approached my little table, I would start with "my latest story takes place right here in Montgomery, Alabama." We were set up in a nearby city so that piqued the interest of many. From there, I simply answered their questions and asked questions of my own. I was surprised with how many people actually decided to buy a book but even more surprised with the number of people changed their minds after I mentioned the last little fact that the main character just happens to be a shape shifting werewolf.

Surprisingly, that was the clincher that sealed the deal for many.

They would respond with something like, "Oh, that's what I like to read" before offering up the names of all the authors they read in the genre.

But the most surprising of all was that I sold nearly as many copies of my first novel, Lovestruck Succubus when I did not even have it displayed on the table. You see, since I live in the South, and many outwardly shun the possibility of what they consider "ungodly" books, I kept those books in a cardboard box and displayed an alternate cover on my poster.

When people asked, "is Lexi's Run part of a series?" I would say "why yes, and I have some with me, but I can't display them because this book is very adult in nature." I could see their eyes bloom with that statement and, more often than not, they immediately wanted a copy.

I must say though, that I learned much from this event. I discovered the importance of offering something, like free bookmarks, to get people to your table. I discovered that more books are sold by simply engaging those you meet in meaningful conversation rather than pushing your products on them. Most of all, I feel I met many new friends throughout the day and I'm thankful for each and every one of them.

I keep going back to the bookmarks and I must express that these were not professionally made. I simply created them on photoshop and took that graphic to my local store to have two bookmarks printed on a sheet of 4X6 photo paper. I cut them in half and, viola, I had over a hundred bookmarks. The back of the bookmarks were blank whit paper and I used that to practice signing my name while waiting for potential customers to stroll by. Not only were people impressed that I gave them a signed bookmark and signed copies of my books, it also helped me add flair to my author signature. Because, let's face it, if it weren't for mechanical or electronic writing machines, my handwriting would be virtually unreadable.

For those customers and new friends that approached my table, I thank you. For those other authors that either are considering something like this or simply shun the thought as beneath the dignity of an author to sell their books at a flea market, I say just give it a try. Besides, it's not just about selling stories, it's about meeting the people who read your work. I am proud to say that not one of the people buying books at my table yesterday knew who I was even though I am local-now they do.