Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Seven things a city girl should know before she dates a guy from the country.

1. He's not a hipster (...yet).

The first time you met him he was drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon and wearing a flannel shirt, a Carhartt beanie, and a pair of Red Wing boots. It was only until you got close enough to hear what he was saying that you realized he was talking about how he was all-conference middle line-backer his senior year, and not discussing how Paul Thomas Anderson is America's "most important"
filmmaker.

2. He won't get your Mean Girls quotes.

The cable company didn't have service all the way out where he lived. In fact he barely got enough reception with the comically-sized rabbit ears bolted to the side of his house to watch the State game on Saturdays. The closest cinema was thirty miles from his house so he's only ever seen three movies: The Notebook, Forest Gump, and Remember the Titans.

3. His Confederate Flag belt buckle doesn't make him a racist (probably).

That's not actually even the confederate flag. That's the battle flag of the army of north Virginia and the only reason he's wearing it is because of that show Dukes of Hazzard. To him the red, white and blue reminds of home cooked meals and good ol' boys. That being said, if he tells you that the south will rise again, you might want to move on. Maybe not. Just ‘sayin.

4. No, he doesn't like to dance.

Or any kind of Dance. His eyes still tear up when he remembers his middle school wrestling coaching telling him he was "lead footed". He would be much happier lying on a picnic blanket in the bed of his truck than being bumped into by sweaty twenty-year-olds years in a sketchy club with the latest Diplo/Tiesto collab track blaring in his ears.

5. Only having 80 Facebook friends doesn’t mean he's a serial killer.

His high school graduating class was only 30 people and his principal was his best friend's grandpa. And his history teacher. And the football coach. His social circle is tiny and he probably likes it that way.

6. Don't visit his hometown.

To you it sounds quaint and cute. You imagine big bright red barns and sprawling pastures filled with galloping horses and grazing cows. The reality is a run-down gas station and a diner whose only patron is a ninety-year-old man who only stops wheezing long enough to leer at what you and mutter to himself about "girls these days".

7. Your romantic past is longer than his.

You might’ve had thirty new matches on Tinder every day for the last few years, but he only ever had one girlfriend before you and it was the town scandal when the two of them didn't get married the summer after they graduated high school.


This last one applies to guys who date girls from the country too. 

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Cuckold Beach #2: Wicked Pink out now from Ellora's Cave

Cuckold Beach, Book Two

Matthew is a desperate man. Married to a gorgeous raven-haired beauty but unable to satisfy her demanding sexual needs, he thinks it’s only a matter of time before she strays. If he knew how intensely Tara loves him, he might not have delivered her into the arms of his best friend, Dan.

Tara quickly learns that some devoted husbands are dedicated to satisfying their wives’ deepest desires. They’ll do whatever it takes to bring intimacy and ecstasy to the women they love. Even if that means giving their wives to other men…while they watch.

Dan has done a good job keeping his wild past a secret. Dungeons, whips and exotic tools, those are things he thinks he’s left behind. But when given a chance to put his talents to use, he realizes that knowing how to unleash a woman’s wicked side has some important advantages.


An Excerpt From: WICKED PINK


“I’d like to see you hit the bag.”

Her request hung in the air, a challenge. But damn if he understood what it was about.

“Now.” She took a step forward and looked him up and down, this time more slowly, with more weight in her stare. “If you don’t mind.”

Striding toward the darkest corner of the barn, Dan unbuttoned his shirt and tugged out the tails. She followed him again, the sound of her feet louder this time. Or was it that he was more aware of her? 

Judging by the thud in his chest and that he could smell her, it was the later. Every nerve in his body was firing, snapping with an awareness of her and what he’d been tasked to do. He reached the corner and shed his dress shirt and then the white undershirt.

Tara picked the gloves up off the bale of hay where they’d been resting and held them out. He took them, slipped them on and smacked his fists together. She sat. He moved to the bag.

The first swing of his right hit the edge and the chain whined as the bag swung to the side. He hooked with the left, sending it twirling in the opposite direction. Several punches in, he found his rhythm and the thump of the bag and the moan of the chain soothed him as much as the physical release. He circled the bag, working his way around to the backside so that he could watch Tara watch him.

After he’d gone through the initial burst, he slowed his pace but continued slamming the bag. Punch after punch, step after step, he kept at it long enough for his skin to become coated with a sheen of sweat and to feel pressure in his lungs.

He only paused when Tara got up and came to him. “You know I love him,” she said, placing the fingertips of one hand on his chest and then running her hand down across his abdomen.

Dan dropped his hands, the gloves suddenly feeling tight and heavy as he watched her caress him. “I know.”

She took a step closer and reached up to touch his shoulder. “I’ve never seen him like this.” She put her other palm on his other shoulder and then ran both hands down his arms. A few drops of sweat hit the dirt when she wrapped her fingers around his wrists. Strands of hair fell across her face when she looked down. “I don’t know what to do. I tried…”

Dan let out a long breath. “He wants you to stop trying.”

“He asked me to come here, tonight with you. So here I am. This is trying, isn’t it? Trying something else?”

It was. But what exactly were they trying to do? Was Dan a placeholder for Matthew? A distraction for Tara? “He told me the rules,” he said. “You come to me but he doesn’t get to ask you any questions about what we do.”

She shrugged and lifted her face, the movement a combination of noncommittal and come-hither. 

“That’s right. What happens with Dan stays with Dan.”

He grabbed her waist, held her as well as he could with the gloves still on and lightly kissed her neck, making a trail down to her shoulder. Her entire body seemed to vibrate with sexual energy. The muscles beneath her skin quivered each time his lips touched her. “You think he’ll be able to stick to that?”

“His rules. His decision.”

Dan reeled from the reality of it all.

What the hell was wrong with Matthew? He spent night after night with this gorgeous, fuckable woman—and nothing? If he could see Tara and him now, Dan was pretty sure Matthew, a man he’d risked his life for, would try to tear off his head.

Tara swayed toward him, the tips of her breasts brushing his chest.

He tightened his grip on her. “I’m going to kiss you now, unless you stop me.”

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Want to Write Sexy?

Week long online sex scene writing seminar

Taught by erotic romance author/college writing professor Isabelle Drake

May 25-May 29

$35.00 via paypal

Would you like to:
  • Create satisfying sex scenes?
  • Examine how  the best sex scenes are structured?
  • Be sure to infuse your sex scenes with emotion?
  • Make sure your sex scenes move the story forward?
Are you:
  • Totally new to writing sex scenes?
  • Have some experience but looking for ways to punch your sexy writing up?
  • Searching for an opportunity to brush up your skills?

If you’re nodding yes to some or all of these questions, this online course may be for you. Taught by an erotic romance author and college writing professor, this course will be a combination of daily challenges, lessons, scene work-shopping, and instructor feedback.

Of course, all correspondence and submissions can remain anonymous.


Here's what we'll do:


Sunday night, May 24
Receive: Free writing, idea-generating, challenge delivered via email. Challenge will be designed to generate some steamy sex scene writing. Goal of 750 words or greater.

Monday night, May 25  
Due: Your description of your free write, description of work-in-progress (if applicable) and goals you want you accomplish for the week

Receive: Structured challenge delivered via email. Challenge will be designed to help create a crafted sex scene and have a goal of 750 words or greater.

Tuesday night, May 26  
Due: Your working draft of your structured scene for peer review & comment.

Receive: Second free writing, idea-generating, challenge delivered via email. Challenge will be designed to build on what you’ve already started and to generate even more steamy sex scene writing. Goal of 1000 words or greater.

Wednesday night, May 27
Due: Your comments on others’ works-in-progress.

Receive: Second structured challenge delivered via email. Challenge will be designed to further develop what you’ve already started and have a goal of 2000 words or greater.

Thursday night, May 28
Due: Your final scene for critique for me to review & comment.

Friday night, May 29
Receive: Your final scene review & comments from me.

Optional: Skype 15 minute conference call on Saturday or Sunday, May 30 or May 31.


Request to join Write Sexy or questions to: isabelle@isabelledrake.com. 
You'll receive a Paypal invoice, after you ask to join.



So you decide to be the “cool” girlfriend...

...and hang out with your boyfriend and all of his friends. You can be one of the guys too, right? You show up with pizzas and a 12-pack. Most of the food gets devoured seconds after it’s placed on the living room table. Your guy says, “Play Mario Kart with us” and thrusts a wii-mote at you. All the guys look at you with anticipation and for that split second you are the center of attention. It’s fabulous.

Ready to seize that moment, you take a seat on the Doritos-dust covered couch and try not to think about the fact that the hideous plaid thing was probably garbage picked from a frat house that got condemned by the CDC. You’re given a hasty tutorial on what the buttons do. The guys deliver it with such enthusiasm and look super cute but the info only confuses. Still, you’re committed so you choose Princess Peach and before you know it the race starts.
Your previously slug-like, couch-potato guy friends are suddenly filled with life. They spring off the couch, onto their feet, screaming. They yell at each other, at you, at the pictures flashing across the screen. You think you might be in last place but nobody seems to notice. Someone gets a “blue shell” and your boyfriend starts swearing like a twelve-year-old who finally got to sit in the back of the bus. Four minutes later, it’s all over. You finished 6th out of 12. Not last! Everyone crashes onto the couch. You flop down next to your guy. Someone spills beer on you reaching for a pepperoni that fell to the floor from earlier but you don’t say anything because right now you’re the cool girlfriend, one of the guys.
The ritual from before is repeated, and repeated, and repeated.

Two hours of bumping into walls, getting taken out by bananas, and driving off cliffs. You want to be done, but you’re in it for the long haul. Surely they’ll get bored of it soon. Before you know it, it’s 3 a.m. and your thumbs are starting to cramp up. You realize you’ve been sitting in that same spot for eight hours and you smell like Bud-Light and Doritos and cheap pizza.

You open up Snapchat and look at all the fun your friends are having at the club. But quality time with the boys is more fun than that, right? You turn to your boyfriend. He’s snoring away, using the towel someone used to clean up the beer spill from earlier as a blanket. Everyone else lumbers off to bed and you guiltily send an SOS then steal a few Cheetos from a bag left open on the floor. The friend you called arrives so you give your sleeping angel a kiss goodbye then leave.

Monday, April 13, 2015

Terrible bosses, bad jobs and happy endings.

The worst job ever? A terrible boss? We’ve all had one or the other. Lucky me, I’ve had both and at the same time. It sure didn’t feel lucky at the time. It was darn awful. The luck came later.

A while ago, I had a temporary job at a call center. The work was okay, just making calls and reading a script. The problem was that whenever I had a question I was told to look in the training manual. So I did that and I did whatever the training manual told me to do or say.
Here’s where I have to tell you something you might not know about call centers. The management folks listen in on calls. This makes sense. They have to check up on the employees to make sure everyone is doing the right thing. Apparently, I wasn’t doing the right things. I found that out on a couple occasions when my supervisor would stop by for a chat. She’d tell me I was “off script” or “following the wrong process.” Then she’d ask me why I was doing whatever it was that I was doing. And, for some crazy reason, she didn’t like it when I referenced the page number of the training manual.

Even after all these years, I can see the curl of her lip and the blank look in her eyes when she spoke with me. It was as though she couldn’t believe someone so inferior had been parked in her cubicle row. “It doesn’t matter that the manual says that,” she’d say. “Just do what I said.” I would’ve been totally fine with that approach if it hadn’t been for her dreadful attitude. Having her lurking nearby, listening in on calls, waiting to zero in and expose my every inept response made most every minute of every day terrible.

When does the luck come in, you want to know?

It came years later, while working on a story. I needed an inspiration for a bad boss. Viola! There she was. My dislike for her was so strong, my memories were--and still are--crisp and vivid. Having her there in my memory made creating the nasty boss I needed for my new novel, Unfinished Business, almost instantaneous.