Valentines on Venus!

Coming this Valentine's Day...

Aphrodite 1
https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2822-8-aphrodite-1/

The crew of space station Aphrodite 1 finds romance, love, and danger—as well as a mystery—in the upper atmosphere of Venus.

Aphrodite 1 Life Sciences Officer Dr. Giselle Rosseau hasn’t lost a crew member yet—she’s not about to lose one now, either. Her first year aboard a space station orbiting the hot, desolate second planet hasn’t been all she hoped for, but she manages to work well under their less than friendly commander, Seth McCloud. After Seth’s a freak accident in the upper Venusian atmosphere, Giselle theorizes that perhaps their handsome comatose commander’s irritating stick-up-his-ass demeanor is a cover concealing a past heartache.  

When Seth wakes and finds Giselle pleasuring herself by his sickbed, to her surprise and delight he wants to join in on the fun.  Suddenly lonely Giselle finds both her empty heart and bunk filled with a passion that can’t be denied. 

Now everyone has a regular partner, and Giselle, Seth, and the rest of their playful crewmates can’t wait for Valentine’s Day. Seth’s increased strength and stamina since his accident is a mystery, but Giselle’s surprise a few weeks later is even bigger. What really happened to Seth in Venus’s upper atmosphere? Will it affect their future happiness together?

A hot excerpt from Aphrodite 1...

Sounds of her shipmates’ lovemaking echoing from the other end of the station caused her pussy muscles to flutter. Giselle licked her lips and moaned. Her vibrator was located in her bunk at the end of the hall, but she’d promised not to disturb the couples. She knew she should stay within earshot of her patient, too. 

She heard Sanjay shout, “Ooh! Harder! Again!”

“Naughty boy enjoys his discipline too much,” Bettina answered. “We’ll have to think of another way to punish him. Alejandro?”

“Hmm…Yes, mistress?”

“Get your face out of Tomiko’s tiny twat and come over here. I have need of that cock of yours. Now.”

“Wow…It’s certainly getting hot in here.” Giselle hit the button on her tablet to close the Sick Bay doors and turned on some soothing music as white noise for her patient.

What to do for her own physical complaint? When all else failed, there was always your friendly hand.

“Oh, Seth. I…I don’t want to be the only one without a partner tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”

Giselle slipped off her pants, relaxed back into her chair, and slowly rubbed her clit in a circular motion. She gazed upon the sleeping form of their mission commander and daydreamed about what it could be like to handle that lovely cock of his. The temptation to rip off the sheet and lick him into shape and sit on his boner was almost more than she could bear.

“Ooh…I wish you would wake up. I wish you would wake up and not act so damn cold. I don’t think it’s who you really are.”

Giselle arched her back and slipped a hand under her top, stroking a nipple until it stood proud.

“Hmm…We could have a good time together, Seth, if you could really let go of whatever causes you to have that stick up your ass—and you do have a very nice ass, if I do say so myself. What I wouldn’t give to fondle your great backside and rub myself against it as I passed you casually in a tight spot in the lower deck corridors. Ah, I could see it now, feel your hardness pressing against my butt cheeks as we switched places in the hall…Me pressing my curves against those hard muscles of yours. Ooh—ah!”

Giselle panted and climaxed before she realized how close she had been to coming. She gazed groggily over at her quiet companion.

“Well, you certainly know how to make a girl come just by lying there and looking handsome. It’s truly a gift.” 

Giselle rose and walked over to the desk to close out her report on her patient. After she switched off the screen, she gathered up her clothing. She could keep the Sick Bay doors open and hang out in the mess hall for a while and make something to eat—maybe even watch an adult vid on her tablet since her crewmates’ cries and moans were making her feel horny again.

“Good-night, Seth. Sweet dreams.” 

Giselle made sure his vitals monitor was synced to her tablet, before dimming the lights and heading to the mess.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Seth asked, just as she reached the doorway.

Aphrodite 1 is part of the Valentines on Venus collection and available from eXtasy Books as well as other fine ebook retailers.

What Makes a Story? Beginning, Middle...End?

I usually post a modified version of the book reviews I do for an established literary site on my blog and Goodreads, but this time I don’t feel comfortable doing so. I’m a different type of book reviewer, you could say. I’d rather say nice things about a writer’s work, or at least make some constructive criticisms of where he or she could improve it, but sometimes I’m at a lost for words. This is one of those times. Amazing, isn’t it?

Back in the day of the dinosaurs, those of us who had the pleasure of taking English composition classes and creative writing courses where taught the basic structure of fiction. Every short story, novella or novel has a beginning, middle, and last, but not least, an end. These are sometimes called by fancier names such as inciting incident, rising action, and resolution, but they pretty much mean the same thing. When a reader sits down to read fiction he or she expects to find character(s) who start a journey of sorts—physical and/or emotional—and after a series of incidents, which illustrate the personality of the character(s), the story comes to a resolution of sorts. A story may have a “happily ever after” ending or a “happy for now” ending or the merely satisfactory  “that’s the way it goes but tomorrow is another day and we’ll keep trying” ending. One thing is certain—the tale comes to a conclusion. 

I guess this isn’t the case anymore. How did I know my English professors back in the dinosaur days were wrong? After recently reading a “short story” collection by a recent graduate of an Ivy League Institution, I’m led to believe that strings of words thrown onto a page can qualify as a story. Okay, it’s not all that bad, but in a way it is. It’s a crime. A young author, with a strong voice and a talent for coming up with interesting characters and situations, has been taught that telling just the beginning and middle somehow equals crafting a complete story. To me, and probably the majority of humanity, it doesn’t. Who would knowingly mislead impressionable students?

Another sad observation—when did using passive “was” verbs and adding he saids all over the place equate to creating dynamic prose? I’ve learned a lot over the years from genre writing workshops, particularly that a good writer shows not tells the story. Readers don’t want to read a listing of dry facts. Readers want to imagine the characters in their minds taking action. In the process of exercising our imaginations, we readers walk away from the story feeling that we’ve learned something about ourselves or life and, better yet, were entertained in the process.

How can readers learn anything from being told the beginning and some of the middle of a character’s arc? We can’t. An incomplete piece of fiction breaks the cardinal rule of all artists, “Whatever you do, don’t be boring.” Maybe in Ivy League literary fiction circles the entertainment factor isn’t considered all that important and, subsequently, has been junked? Perhaps root canals are considered entertaining in those circles? Yikes!

 Throwing up academic credentials as an excuse for being boring reminds me of a conversation at a party a friend and I had with a man introduced as a creative writing professor from a local private university. My friend asked him what sort of creative writing the professor had published recently. This gentleman stated that he didn’t publish his fiction because, “It was too good to be published.” My friend and I continued talking about our recent novel ideas and book deals while the creative writing instructor looked at us as if we’d grown horns or a third eye.

I surmised the professor didn’t enjoy receiving rejection letters from publishers, so he simply didn’t even try to pen publishable fiction anymore. But then that begs the question—Why should parents pay tons of money to a college which employs an instructor with no interest in writing publishable fiction to instruct their children in the craft of creative writing? Shouldn’t the professor teach “creative ways to avoid rejection” classes instead?

After this recent book review, my impression of creative writing classes offered at prestigious and costly private colleges has not improved. I learned one simple axiom in many writer’s workshops: Writers write. And the sole purpose of writing for publication is to connect with readers—not to bore them. I liken offering incomplete works to the reading public to a master chef tossing uncooked ingredients willy-nilly onto a plate and calling it a culinary masterpiece. (I realize some enjoy sushi, but I want my fish cooked.) When you can’t finish the job, you’re not really a success, are you? 

I can’t boast an Ivy League education, but my books have received some great reviews over the years. Not one reviewer has ever said my fiction was boring or incomplete. I listened in English class and took notes at writer’s workshops and became a published author. Thank heaven I received good advice!

Click on the  book link at the top to learn more about my erotic-romance novels and novellas. You can even review one if you wish. ;)