Please welcome the effervescent and witty Deena Bright to the blog as she openly shares her journey toward writing one of her novella’s. Deena is also generously giving away 2 copies of SCHOOLED 4.0 (Details below).
Now, let me first say that when I received Deena’s blog post, I had no idea she was going to compliment me so much. I didn’t even have to bribe or pay her in chocolate, pizza, wine or steak (Deena loves steak), and I am honored and humbled by her words. I actually blushed reading them, and it’s not easy to make me blush.
Right back at you, Deena, you’re a wonderful writer with a writing style I love, a great sense of humor and a good friend I am pleased to have found through your other work.
Okay, enough gushing, here’s Deena.
Deena is also sharing an excerpt from SCHOOLED 4.0.
***
Hey all you smut-loving fans of fiction, I’m Deena Bright. I’m in love with Selena. Why? Why the Hell not??? She is about the most generous, thoughtful, and helpful fellow writer I have ever met. I have never heard her speak an ill word about anyone else in this world. LOVE THAT ABOUT HER. Me? Well, I’m the person you need to sit by if you want to trash-talk anyone—even the busboy with a rotten tooth and acne. (Yeah, had one of those last night—at a restaurant—not in my bed.)
First of all, I want to thank Selena for letting me usurp her blog today. Technologically, I cannot figure out how to create my own blog, so I thrive on commandeering other people’s technological possessions. Selena just rocks for always being there for me!
Now since SCHOOLED 4.0 is four books in one. I want to spend the remainder of this post discussing the fourth novella in the book, All Girls’ School. It is a love story depicting the “sexual awakening” of one woman as she realizes her desire for female love and companionship.
Let’s go back in time—cue the foggy, blurry screen and flashback music. My best friend was married to a man with a beautiful daughter and another on the way. Sadly, that second daughter died in her arms when she was only eight days old. It was devastatingly horrifying—as I’m sure anyone can imagine. Well, what we don’t realize is that it is hard to grieve with another person. We all grieve differently. The different mourning paths she and her husband took veered them in very dissimilar directions, destroying their marriage. It was sad to witness.
Eventually, my best friend found true love and complete understanding and acceptance in another woman. They are now both blissfully happy. She and her ex-husband are great friends, so it all worked out for the best, despite the tragic and unbearable road they journeyed to get there.
Anyway, I wanted to write a lesbian-awakening. I thought “short novella—piece of cake.” Oh Hell was I wrong! It’s really freaking hard, so damn hard, to write a book when you know virtually nothing about what your book is about. I had to basically interrogate my friend on their relationship—their intimate affairs—everything!
One night, my husband and I went to dinner with them, and I just grilled both of them about lesbian sex and relationships. They answered every single question—never letting me down or getting embarrassed by my inquisition. My husband, however, struggled as he was about busting out of his boxer briefs—if you get my drift. Actually, a little breeze or drift may have sent him over the edge at that point.
Then, later that night, I went on porn sites and watched some girl-on-girl action. At that point, my husband was like “Honey, is there something you want to tell me?” Hahaha! I love that man! He is such a trooper.
The point is, I didn’t want to let my friends down or write something that was so far from reality that people would roll their eyes and think “this chick doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” I wanted it to be real—sexually as well as intimately. I wanted to tell a story that needs to be told. My friend is happier now than she has ever been in her entire life, and I am thrilled for her. I love…LOVE. No matter what kind of love it is. If it brings her happiness, then I don’t give a rat’s hairy ball sac if she loves a man or a woman. Her heart is hers to give; she may give it to whomever she so desires.
Truthfully, I was terrified for my friend to read All Girls’ School. I didn’t want to screw up the story. I wanted to make them proud of me as well as themselves. My friend sent me a text this morning. This was her text, verbatim: “I just finished the book. It was wonderful. It turned me on and made me tear up all at once. You captured lesbian relationships perfectly. It was so well-written. Thank you for writing this book.” So yeah, Deena Bright—NAILED IT! 😉 Thanks for reading today. Hopefully, you delve into your smutty sides and give Schooled 4.0 a shot.
Four books for four bucks! You can’t go wrong!
EXCERPT:
BRIGGS
From the Original Schooled (Book 1 in the Schooled Series)
“Damn girl, what took you so long? Let’s dance.” As I exit the bathroom, Briggs grabs me around the waist and pulls me toward the dance floor. My attempts at protest are futile. I’m no match for his strength and power—Hell, his magnetism.
It’s the slowest rap beat I’ve ever heard. It’s no “Push It.” Where are Salt-n-Peppa when you need them? I cannot imagine how people dance to this music. It isn’t the fast-pumping rap or upbeat pop music I’m used to dancing to. It’s a slow, rhythmic pounding. I quickly learn that people don’t actually dance to it. They just slowly grind against one another. It’s hot, slow, and so erotic. It’s certainly a simulation of what else could happen if these movements were to continue all night. Oh, so hot. It’s been long, way too long.
Well this certainly isn’t helping my cause. Holy shit. Briggs places the front of his body tightly up against my back and bottom. I can feel his breath on the side and back of my neck. His arms wrap around my waist, holding me tightly against his pelvis. I can easily feel him rubbing, grinding, and moving into my backside, imitating a slow, easy, love-making motion. He uses his hands to move my hips in a way that he wants them to move. My body melts and melds into his. I lose control of my senses and actions, letting him control my movements, as well as my desires. This has got to be his ammo. These moves, this seduction, have to be his weapon of choice.
I can’t allow my will to cave, for a student to do this to me. But my God, it feels so good, so right. It’s been so long, so frustratingly long. I feel my will faltering, my decisions wavering. His penis begins to enlarge against me, finding its way to my ass. Only my linen skirt and thong and his loose-fitting athletic shorts stand between his hardening shaft and the crack of my butt. I can feel its size. Oh God.
“You’re so sexy Janelle.” His raspy whisper tingles my ear, making me shiver and long for more. He just called me Janelle. Oh shit. This is getting out of hand. I have to stop this. Please give me the strength to stop this man. No, to stop myself. But instead of stopping it, I hear myself whimper, a sound of acquiescence. A sound of my will failing. I feel Briggs’ tongue slowly travel from the base of my neck to the tip of my earlobe. He starts to turn my body to face him. I moan and succumb to him, facing him. His blue eyes are smoldering with the most passionate look of desire, a look I’ve never seen on a man’s face before. Never. I have to have him. I lean in to him; our lips meet. His tongue finds mine, and my knees weaken. I want to have him, devour him, feel him. I need him. I swallow his moan and return my own. His hands run down my back, pulling me closer into him, onto him. I need this man. I have to—
GIVEAWAY:
Simply leave a comment, and Deena will randomly draw two names on Friday, October 17th and each winner will receive a copy of SCHOOLED 4.0
Like this:
Like Loading...
First and foremost, it’s got to be the alpha in him. We live in a society where a dominant man is considered a bad thing – but in a world of supernatural sexy times, a man who crowds your space, and holds your stare while he growls your name is hawt. He is masculinity personified, six feet of unshaven, wild gorgeousness. Nobody is going to stand in his way from claiming what he considers his: you.
The only pebble in her shit-kicking boot is the jaw-gritting interference of Nathe Amergin, a Fae Enforcer whose solemn violet eyes set her skin to sizzle.
