Life is not a romance novel…or is it?
By KyAnn Waters
I’ve heard it said that sex can never be as good as it is in a romance novel and that real men are nothing like the heroes in romance novels…or are they?
From the first blush of love that tugs at your tummy to the sultry stories that make you hot and squirm on your chair, romance stories inspire and titillate. We lose ourselves in dark fantasies where the bite of a vampire is as erotic as the forbidden kiss from the boss. Whether your knight in shiny armor storms to your rescue on a majestic steed, or you imagine yourself as the heroine and are carried away into the whimsy of fantasy romance, you’re transported into the imagination of the author. Heroes are cunning, intelligent, resourceful and edgy. They’re strong and handsome and if you’re reading one of my stories, he’s wielding an impressive weapon (and yes, I’m talking about that weapon) and his skills are unmatched. Now you have to wonder…where in the hell are all the real life heroes?
Reality—men are often in a hurry and thank god, because the kids want dinner and the laundry needs folded. And if you even think about a little midnight affection, be prepared to die because the alarm clock is going to scream at five a.m. and this heroine needs her sleep!
I’ve heard some outrageous misconceptions, but I know why I write erotic romance. I love great sex! I love to read erotic romance because I love great sex! And I love to tell stories of love and lust.
I don’t expect a hero (or two) from one of my stories to come into my bedroom. My husband is probably happy about that since I’m mostly writing m/m erotic romance these days. But I wonder if women really expect of their mates. I’m happy when mine gives me time alone to write, helps with the house and calls on his way home from work. (Yeah, this is probably because he knows I spent the day writing and nothing is ready for dinner. lol.) I find that incredibly romantic because he’s thinking about me.
So are women truly looking for what they find in a book? Or like me, is it about the fantasy and that reality is much better than any fictional super hot alpha man that can rock between the sheets…and leap tall buildings in a single bound.
KyAnn Waters writes for Loose id, The Wilder Roses, Ellora’s Cave, Samhain Publishing and Siren Publishing. Visit her at www.KyAnnWaters.com
Upcoming release from KyAnn Waters.
The Naughty List
T’was a week before Christmas and Mrs. Claus conspires. Proposition Jack Frost to give Santa his greatest desire…
The deviant Dominant Jack Frost can be good, very good. Only for being so good at being so bad, Santa keeps him on the naughty list. What would Jack do to get on the good list? Kidnap Santa? With the help of Mrs. Claus, Jack could force Santa’s submission and give him the one thing he’s always wanted—to be on the naughty list. Then Jack could show Santa just how very good he can be.
An Excerpt From: THE NAUGHTY LIST
Copyright © KYANN WATERS, 2010
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
“It’s early, Mrs. Claus.” Although winter in the quiet magical town of North Pole would always be dark if it weren’t for the colorful lights twinkling on every house, tree and lamppost. Snow softly fell, sparkling like fairy dust on the evergreens outside the picture window. Jack Frost had been summoned to the Claus residence. Normally, he wouldn’t give a fuck, but the request came from Mrs. Claus herself. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Yes,” came her sultry response. “Being so close to Christmas, Santa is in his workshop.” She stirred his spiked mulled cider, licked the swizzle stick, drawing her delicate pink tongue along the length then closed her succulent red glossy lips around the red and white striped stem and sucked. “And please, call me Abby.”
“So you’re looking for someone to help you pass the time, Abby?”
She tilted her head coyly to the side. “I won’t deny that I need you, Jack.” Her eyes closed, her long lashes sweeping low then lifting. Her piercing sapphire eyes met his. “I’ll do anything to get what I want.”
Fuck, his dick stiffened at the veiled invitation. Her hips beckoned as she sauntered across the room.
“At this time of year, Santa doesn’t have time for me. He tries, but I have rather ravenous needs.” She handed Jack his drink, bending over to give him a perfect view of her tits. She had a rack made for fucking. Full-rounded mounds of milky white flesh and large cherry nipples. He licked his lips. The books had this Mrs. Claus all wrong. She wasn’t plump and smelling of sugar cookies.
“Thank you,” he said and sipped the hot and spicy drink.
“You’re very welcome, Jack.”
The current Mrs. Claus dripped sex. Santa didn’t bellow ho ho ho on Christmas night because he was jolly. The man had an insatiable wife. Last year, she asked Santa for a party with the elves. He’d given into her because…well she was on the good list and Santa didn’t have the ability to tell her no. Santa was inherently good. He didn’t know how to be naughty. Not like Jack. Mrs. Claus needed a bit of naughty now and again. So if her name was on the good list, and her name was always on the good list, she got exactly what she wanted on Christmas.
And that was never Jack.
Jack Frost had never been on the good list. For as good as Santa was, Jack was bad.
Mrs. Claus sat on the armrest of his chair and combed her red painted nails through the blond hair at Jack’s nape. “So, Jack, you haven’t been good this year.”
“Depends on how you interpret good.” He rested his hand on her hip, gently squeezing his way to her ass and showing her exactly what his good intentions would include. “I could be good.”
A chuckle passed her sultry lips. “You’d like to be good. I know what you want for Christmas.” Her nails raked down his back, scoring along his spine. “You’d like to be on the good list,” she whispered. “And I know why.”
Saliva pooled in his mouth as her nipples tightened beneath the tight fabric of her slinky red holiday dress. The plunging neckline teased him with a glimpse of her areolas. “I thought Santa was the only one who knew everything.”
A lecherous smile tilted her lips. “Oh Jack,” she purred as she stood and slinked around the back of the chair, letting her fingertips trace his broad shoulders. “You are exactly right. Santa does see everything. He sees you when you’re sleeping…and he knows when you’re awake. He knows the devious little tricks you play and all the naughty things you crave. You see, that’s why I know you’re the only one who can help me.”
Love it! LOL! What a start to Christmas! I have yet to write a seasonal story of any kind and if you read my last post you will all know I am keen to change that - can I ask your advice, KyAnn? How soon before each holiday would you recommend I submit my story for consideration?
KyAnn would love to answer any questions and comments!