Apparently, Joseph Fritzl, locked his daughter up because she was enjoying too many nights out, according to an Austrian newspaper.

Austrian incest victim Elisabeth Fritzl was imprisoned for 24 years by her father because the then 18-year-old was reportedly enjoying too many nights out.

Shortly before she was locked in a cellar in 1984, Elisabeth wrote a series of letters to her friends, which have been published by Austrian publication the daily Oesterreich.

The notes paint a picture a normal teenager, writing about her daily life, her hobbies and a drunken night out with friends.

But her father Josef Fritzl disapproved of her social life and used it to justify locking up his outgoing daughter, another Austrian paper claimed.

“She did not obey any rules, she hung around in dodgy bars all night, drank, smoked,” he allegedly said.

“That’s why I had to provide, I had to create a place, in which I could keep Elisabeth away from the outside world, by force if I had to.

“I grew up under the Nazis, drills and discipline meant a lot at the time. I probably adopted some of this, unconsciously of course. But I’m no monster,” he said, adding that he had agonised over whether to free her.

“My situation became crazier with every week that I held my daughter captive. I considered again and again whether I should let her go or not,” he told his lawyer.

Fritzl denied the abuse had started when Elisabeth was 11. “That’s not true. I’m not a guy who abuses young children,” said Fritzl.

“It began later, much later. Not until she was ‘downstairs,’” he added. “The truth was, I wanted children with Elisabeth.

“I was happy about the kids. It was nice for me to also have a real family in the cellar, with a wife and a couple of children.”

He described the dungeon - 55m square - with no fresh air or natural light - as a typical household.

“I watched action films with them (the children) on the VCR while Elisabeth cooked our favourite dishes,” he said.

“Then we all sat down at the kitchen table and ate together.”

Fritzl said they celebrated Christmas and birthdays underground when he would sneak in Christmas trees, cakes and presents into the dungeon.

In August 1984, weeks before she vanished, Elisabeth wrote in a letter: “I like to listen to music and daydream. But if life is only made of dreams, well, I don’t know.”

She also spoke of her plans to leave home and move in with her sister after completing exams.

“When you get this letter, it will all be over. I’ll give you my new address as soon as I’ve moved,” she wrote in a letter to a friend in May that year, according to the daily Oesterreich.

It was a move she would never make - as she was forced into an underground chamber just weeks later, where she would be repeatedly raped by her father.

Isn’t it strange how people who commit such acts never feel as if they’ve done anything wrong?

I want him to suffer in prison. And I mean really suffer. If it was up to me, he’d live on bread, water, and daily beatings. Unfortunately, he’ll probably be left in solitary confinement for his own safety, living in relative luxury.

Well, isn’t this a turn up for the books? Hopefully I’m not jinxing him, but it would seem that Obama is still making headway, towards becoming the next American president.

Barack Obama took a big step toward the Democratic presidential nomination with an easy victory in North Carolina on Tuesday, and Hillary Clinton vowed to keep her struggling campaign alive after narrowly winning Indiana.

The results helped Obama widen his lead over Clinton in the gruelling Democratic duel for the right to face Republican John McCain in November’s presidential election with just six nominating contests remaining.

Both candidates looked ahead to contests next week in West Virginia and May 20 in Oregon and Kentucky, but Clinton was nearly out of opportunities to change the course of the race.

“We have seen that it’s possible to overcome the politics of division and distraction, that it’s possible to overcome the same old negative attacks that are always about scoring points and never about solving our problems,” Obama said at a victory rally in Raleigh, North Carolina.

I’ve finally decided that he would be the better leader, not Hillary. Hillary would be far too divisive, and I think that if she won the Democratic race, Old Man McCain would be the next US president by default. Mind you, the same could happen with Obama, but I’m more certain it would happen with Clinton.

I know how shallow this is, but I think it would be hard to deny that his looks would be an asset. Don’t look at me like that, why do you think Bill Clinton did so well?

One of the reasons I voted for the Conservative representative in our recent local elections, is because I really don’t want Gordon ‘I’m not fit to lick Tony Blair’s boots’ Brown to represent my country. It would be like having John Major in office again. Dull, drab, and no personality. Blair had his faults, but at least he looked like a leader.

Shallow much? Hell yeah. They’re all much of the same muchness, but I’d prefer the prettier version, over the staid crusty number cruncher anyday.

So, these past couple of weeks there has been the customary to-do about who-saw-what-done-where-and-to-whom during the last RT in Pittsburg, and who-is-reporting-what-someone-else-says-that-a-third-party-told- them-happened-there.

Here at Karen’s the discussion devolved into “old vs young” rather soon, and then it became “prudes vs sluts”. Pretty soon after there was the whole “look what trash you are letting into the romance genre!” vs “stop pretending you are all so pure, sex sells!” over at Dear Author (otherwise known as “is this what we want the professional image of the romance genre as an industry to be?”).

There have been first hand accounts of some minor and some oh-my-God-not-minor-at-all incidents where the line between appropriate and inappropriate behaviour was carelessly crossed. I’m beyond furious about the abuse Kim was subjected to, and both Lori Foster and Shiloh Walker have shared some unpleasant experiences of their own.

Of course such things can, and sadly do, happen everywhere, not just at a romance readers’ convention, as Anya Bast points out in the discussion over at Dear Author. But that is not the point, really. The point (which GrowlyCub, and Jane and Robin and a few others, made quite eloquently over there) is that some environments are more likely to beget certain behaviours than others.

So far I had felt no overwhelming reason to comment, because people with different points of view and different agendas will have different opinions and perspectives, and they are all valid (duly noted exception for criminal behaviour, of course)

Then Emmy offers this:

Hate it when people make sweeping generalizations. What is romance? Does porn have to be two strangers oofing in a one night stand? Can’t two people in a monogamous relationship who love each other deeply have hot monkey sex too? Why can’t that be romantic?

And this:

Sex, as the cliche goes, sells. If people didnt wanna see or read about smexing, there wouldnt be this whole industry out there. The only way to get the romance industry more respect is to take the romance- and any overt/covert sexual references- out of it.

And Erastes adds,

Romance is not necessarily porn. But erotica can be and is, in a lot of cases. Romance is not heterosexual monogamous marriage, either, by the way.

Huh? Color me confused here.

And I have to wonder… what does monkey sex between consenting adults who care for each other have to do with porn*? Since when can romance be porn? Since when is romance reduced to sex?

Perhaps I live in a different universe…

See, I like romance—which to me means “relationship”. I like sex. What’s more, I like sex in my relationship books. Hell, I like well done** graphic descriptions of sex in my relationship stories. And on occasion, I like sex stories with no hint of relationship anywhere.

What I don’t like is other people’s sex lives and practices shoved in my face without a by-your-leave.

So, perhaps I am a prude after all, and a hypocrite to boot.

Because to me consent is a basic component of freedom—particularly freedom related to sexuality.

If a bystander doesn’t consent to witness some serious nookie, groping, necking, simulated sex acts, what-have-you, I believe that the rights of that person have been violated. Particularly when that bystander has the exact same right to share that space (elevator, hotel lobby, hallway, name your spot) as the people indulging in the public nookie.

If a convention that is touted to be about romance books—without specification as to whether there is or isn’t explicit sex in those books, or whether the relationships depicted are between two or three consenting adults of any specific gender, race, eye color, shoe size, chose your arbitrary line here—and for romance readers—without specification as to whether these readers have to be voyeurs, exhibitionists, prudish, deeply religious, left handed, tall, scrawny, rubenesque, fill in the blank here—then I believe that the organizers and sponsors of said convention should strive to make it possible for as many of the attendees to participate without being involuntarily subjected to offensive behaviour.

Should the organizers vet the background of every attendee? Not only shouldn’t they, but it is just not possible. But they should—and could—make sure that certain ground rules were laid down for the sponsors and professionals who participate. And by professionals I mean agents, writers, editors, publishers, models, what have you.

* pornography, from Merriam-Webster online: 1: the depiction of erotic behavior (as in pictures or writing) intended to cause sexual excitement 2 :material (as books or a photograph) that depicts erotic behavior and is intended to cause sexual excitement 3: the depiction of acts in a sensational manner so as to arouse a quick intense emotional reaction ((the pornography of violence))

**“well done” is a subjective descriptor, obviously—what’s great for me may get a meh or a yuck! from anyone else reading it.

AztecLady sent me the link to this statement, written by a lady called Mildred Loving. It moved me beyond words.

I’ve posted the statement in its entirety, since I know how allergic to clicking on links some of you guys are:

Loving for All

By Mildred Loving*

Prepared for Delivery on June 12, 2007,
The 40th Anniversary of the Loving vs. Virginia Announcement

When my late husband, Richard, and I got married in Washington, DC in 1958, it wasn’t to make a political statement or start a fight. We were in love, and we wanted to be married.

We didn’t get married in Washington because we wanted to marry there. We did it there because the government wouldn’t allow us to marry back home in Virginia where we grew up, where we met, where we fell in love, and where we wanted to be together and build our family. You see, I am a woman of color and Richard was white, and at that time people believed it was okay to keep us from marrying because of their ideas of who should marry whom.

When Richard and I came back to our home in Virginia, happily married, we had no intention of battling over the law. We made a commitment to each other in our love and lives, and now had the legal commitment, called marriage, to match. Isn’t that what marriage is?

Not long after our wedding, we were awakened in the middle of the night in our own bedroom by deputy sheriffs and actually arrested for the “crime” of marrying the wrong kind of person. Our marriage certificate was hanging on the wall above the bed. The state prosecuted Richard and me, and after we were found guilty, the judge declared: “Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix.” He sentenced us to a year in prison, but offered to suspend the sentence if we left our home in Virginia for 25 years exile.

We left, and got a lawyer. Richard and I had to fight, but still were not fighting for a cause. We were fighting for our love.

Though it turned out we had to fight, happily Richard and I didn’t have to fight alone. Thanks to groups like the ACLU and the NAACP Legal Defense & Education Fund, and so many good people around the country willing to speak up, we took our case for the freedom to marry all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. And on June 12, 1967, the Supreme Court ruled unanimously that, “The freedom to marry has long been recognized as one of the vital personal rights essential to the orderly pursuit of happiness by free men,” a “basic civil right.”

My generation was bitterly divided over something that should have been so clear and right. The majority believed that what the judge said, that it was God’s plan to keep people apart, and that government should discriminate against people in love. But I have lived long enough now to see big changes. The older generation’s fears and prejudices have given way, and today’s young people realize that if someone loves someone they have a right to marry.

Surrounded as I am now by wonderful children and grandchildren, not a day goes by that I don’t think of Richard and our love, our right to marry, and how much it meant to me to have that freedom to marry the person precious to me, even if others thought he was the “wrong kind of person” for me to marry. I believe all Americans, no matter their race, no matter their sex, no matter their sexual orientation, should have that same freedom to marry. Government has no business imposing some people’s religious beliefs over others. Especially if it denies people’s civil rights.

I am still not a political person, but I am proud that Richard’s and my name is on a court case that can help reinforce the love, the commitment, the fairness, and the family that so many people, black or white, young or old, gay or straight seek in life. I support the freedom to marry for all. That’s what Loving, and loving, are all about.

It’s unimaginable to me that once upon a time, you could get thrown in jail for marrying somebody with a different skin tone to yourself. We still have a ways to go, but I do think we have come a long way from those very dark days.

The Countess Takes a Lover, by Bonnie Dee.

This is a very well executed short novel/long novella erotic romance from Samhain, set in London during the Regency (1800s). Ms Dee, who was a new-to-me writer, uses a few reliable tropes of the romance genre, but her excellent execution makes them feel fresh.

And for once, the blurb is nigh perfect!

Countess Meredith du Chevalier, a widow with a reputation for being sexually adventurous, is intrigued when she is approached by a gentleman who wishes her to “make a man” of his son. Sensing a passionate man beneath Christopher Whitby’s reserved exterior, Meredith takes on the challenge, inviting the botanist to her country home to revitalize her abandoned greenhouse.

Chris finds people to be a chaotic, animalistic species, and has chosen to devote his life to the study of plants. One kiss from the vivacious countess, however, and his inner animal is aroused. But lust is only a fraction of what he feels for the vulnerable woman hiding behind a brittle façade. He resolves to coax her to grow until her petals unfurl into glorious bloom.

To her surprise, Meredith finds Chris brings much more to life than just fallow soil. But just as their love begins to thrive, he learns about the secret arrangement. Meredith must risk her heart for the most dangerous lesson of all—love.

At a little over 130 pages, The Countess takes a Lover is, again, a bit shorter that most of the books I usually like, but the pacing is so well done as to make that just a minor quibble and not very noteworthy.

While having a wealthy society widow with a tarnished reputation as a heroine is not all that common, the fact that she was unhappy—and sexually unfulfilled—during her marriage is fairly common in romance novels indeed. In this case, Meredith wasn’t merely neglected or unhappy, but suffered true emotional and sexual abuse of increasing degree at the hands of her husband until his death. Further, her veiled cries for help to her family fell on deaf ears—and cold hearts—all of which left her deeply scarred emotionally.

However, she possesses a will strong enough to allow her to rise above this, and free herself—for the most part at least—from her past. She discovers her knack for business first, and the power of her sensuality soon enough after that, and creates a life for herself in which she is not accountable to anyone else. Of course, given her background so far, she equates this contentment with happiness.

Her self-confidence and self-awareness are very evident, as well as engaging, from the very first scene, at the end of her meeting with Christopher’s father:

“Have no fear on that account.” Meredith smiled. “I look forward to meeting the young man. What was his name? Christopher? After an initial introduction, I’ll let you know if I’ll be able to assist you in this matter.” She took another sip of her tea, letting Whitby know by her manner that he was dismissed. She’d long ago learned if one acted like royalty, one was likely to be treated as such.

Of course, this meeting both starts off the story and sets the lovers up for another staple of romance lore: betrayal. Meredith lies to Christopher, both about her motives to meet him and her initial attraction to him. She can hardly tell him, after all, that his father has agreed to exchange favors with her. She’ll “make a man” out of the studious Christopher, and his father will push through Parliament a bill that will increase her wealth down the road. Instead, Meredith tells him she felt attracted to his ‘quiet’ potential.

A welcome change from the usual run of romantic stories is that the hero is both the socially awkward and the inexperienced one in the relationship. It’s true that this doesn’t last very long, for one of the things that attracts Meredith to Christopher is the fact that behind his bookishness hides a strong and passionate personality.

During their first lovemaking, Christopher’s reactions are lovely rendered. He is insecure and scared, surprised, amazed, moved, grateful. I could very well see him there.

Ms Dee’s characterization felt very well realized to me. It’s true that there’s a bit of stereotyping to fill in the blanks on some of the secondary characters (for example, the overbearing and not wholly honorable Mr Whitby, the shallow social butterfly Mrs Whitby), but there were other characters painted very deftly with merely a few broad strokes.

I particularly enjoyed—to the point of smiling and reading it over three times before moving on—a conversation/monologue between Meredith and her personal maid, Cecile. And I remember fondly the non-verbal communication with the old man playing the violin, his arthritic hands and knowing smile.

Regardless of the use of what can be seen as genre stereotypes, the writing is engaging, and the story flows nicely from the first scene, to the protagonists’ first meeting, and on… Really, all the way to the end there isn’t a false note in the narrative or the characterization of the protagonists.

I found the scene where Christopher discovers Meredith’s deception and his father’s betrayal to be very well done, and the subsequent scenes felt true to both of their characters and their feelings. Mostly, I like that the resolution of the conflict is not rushed into a few paragraphs, happening within minutes. It is much more believable the way it’s written.

I have issues with some of the word choices, because I wonder whether they are historically accurate—but frankly, language and a couple other small details aside, the story rose way above those minor (for me) flaws.

Another quibble I have is with how and when Meredith shared details from her marriage with Christopher. It is quite early in their acquaintance, and even earlier in their intimacy, and her reactions puzzled me. If it’s something she shares freely, shouldn’t the pain be less noticeable by now (meaning that Chris should not have been able to perceive it)? Conversely, if it’s something she rarely shares—the pain is too vivid, the scars too raw—how could she just blurt it out to him?

But altogether, this was a very enjoyable read, and I will be looking forward to reading more of Ms Dee’s work.

7.5 out of 10

Even though the owner still hasn’t paid the authors, the money that they are owed, OMP is still in operation. Their coming soon page, shows a release for May, by an author called ‘Essence’. You can also purchase any of the books listed on the site. Books by authors who haven’t seen a penny from the sale of their work, I suspect.

Author Crusader posted the following e-mail that she received, on her blog in March:

“Noemi is Essence and has a book with Loose id today, did you know that? She has not gone away and has books coming with Siren press too! She has not gone underground, she is still around and not paying people. She is rediculous!!! These companys know who she is but don’t care. I heard this info last year after she closed and cheated the authors. I hope you can get her!!!”

Basically Noemi is the owner of OMP and she managed to get away with sneakily closing the company down, and disappearing for months on end, without a word to her authors.

I think I’ve come across her before actually. I seem to remember that she brazenly posted an excerpt of a story she’d written on another author’s Yahoo List. I recall at the time thinking that the woman couldn’t write for toffee, and that she’d never get published. I think I said as much to the Yahoo owner. Big effing sigh.

This woman is not the kind of person you want to trust your work or your credit card with.

Talk about unscrupulous.

Let me just say, that any fool, who A, buys from Ocean’s Mist Press, and B submits to them, deserve everything they get.

Just sayin’

By the way, apparently Noemi has at least five pseudonyms, so she may have penned the majority of the books on the site herself.

Via ERECsite

Is it just me, or is Wesley Snipes’ conviction–and three years sentence–the result of a petty swipe by IRS?

See, they couldn’t get him for the big bucks–and I’m not saying he didn’t deserve to pay some, ’cause c’mon, there’s no way he didn’t know he was supposed to pay taxes. Unless he lived in a cave somewhere in the desert for a decade or so. Which, since he made a *cough* decently sized *cough* fortune with his films, we can rule out, no?

So, he knew he had to file and pay taxes, and he didn’t. Still, he’s got good lawyers, and got off on the felonies. The IRS response: three years in jail for the minor stuff.

And me, I just wonder how it makes sense to spend tax money keeping him in low security, high comfort jail for three years for *drum roll* not paying tax money to the government.

Of course, Mr Snipes is appealing the sentence, which means his lawyers get richer while the justice system spends more tax money.

If anyone can make sense of this, please edumacate me.

Dear Jeanne Sumerix, (TM Dear Author)

(Why don’t you have a decent website?)

I honestly don’t know why I continue with Genesis Press books, I really don’t. Admittedly, Rendezvous With Fate has been in my TBR pile forever, but still…

One common thing I’ve noticed about the majority of GP books that I’ve read is the extremely poor editing. The typos are also higher than average, which annoys the hell outta me.
Other equally annoying commonalities? Bad dialogue, bad technical writing, purple prose galore, stupid eupemisms for the vagina, dumbass heroines, and heroes who are so pansy-like they make Ru Paul look macho.

Anyway, on with your story. Here’s the blurb from Amazon:

Leela and Jack’s impassioned love affair of eighteen years ago draws them to revisit old feelings. They share a son that Jack knows nothing about and Leela won’t tell. They agree to be friends but the embers are still burning and they are thrust back in time where history repeats itself.

The premise was interesting enough, secret baby plot and all, but by the time I got to the 20th page, I knew this was not going to end well.

At this point can I mention how bad your dialogue tags were? Not only that, but the actual dialogue between your characters were so ridiculous that I had to keep checking which character was saying what.

For instance, does this really sound like something a seventeen year old, basketball-lovin’ teenage boy, would say to his mother?

Mom, I’ve been thinking of taking my first two years at the community college with you. We could be roomies or something

Would a boy who loves, basketball, fishing, and hunting, really want to share a room with his mother at college? Seriously?

I’m pretty sure that a seventeen year old boy, wouldn’t do or say the following either:
(Context, the mother, our heroine, is asking her son if he would mind having a step-father)

Alex, still very serious said, “No mom. Grandpa was all the father I needed” Then smiling broadly at her he tweaked her nose (Do 17-year old boys really tweak their mothers’ noses these days?) and said. “If your true love comes along, I’d never stand in your way”

Seriously?

Not only could you not write plausible teenage boy speak, you also had trouble changing your female ‘voice’, when it came to writing from the hero’s point of view. Your hero thought like a woman, and spoke like a woman would. It got to a point where your hero and heroine were almost interchangeable. That’s not a good thing surely?

Also the plot? Come on now, this could have been a perfectly readable book, but unfortunately, you turned it into one big cheesey cliche. I can live with cliches, but coupled with so much cheese? Not so much.

Let’s have a look at some examples shall we?

Heroine got pregnant when she was a teenager and didn’t tell hero?  Check the ’secret baby plot’ box.

Girl leaves town for a short while, and when she comes back to tell the hero that she wants to be with him, he’s left allegedly with another girl?  Check the ‘Paper-thin conflict that could have been solved with just one conversation’ box.

Girl hasn’t been in a decent relationship for nineteen years because nobody could measure up to the hero?  Check the big old ‘Magical Penis’ box.

Hero hasn’t been in a decent relationship for nineteen years because no other vagina can beat that of his first love?  Another big fat check in the ‘Special Vajayjay’ box.

The hero and heroine get back together, but the hero’s ex girlfriend, (unfortunately named Nora) is a jealous bitch from hell who can’t take no for an answer, so tries to scupper the H&H’s relationship?  Check the ‘Cookie-cutter jealous ex-lover’ box.

The jealous bitch from hell tells the heroine something quite upsetting, and she believes her, even though she knows that the bitch wants her man?  Check, check.

Rendezvous With Fate read like a really bad HQN Presents book, all you needed was the billionaire sheik, and this could have been sold as a Presents story. (No offense to all you Presents lovers out there).

Also, I want you to know that nothing irritates me more, than reading the following during a love scene:

Moving her, guiding her, until he slid his throbbing manhood into her smooth, pulsating treasure box.

Are you fucking kidding me? Throbbing fucking manhood? It’s a COCK.

Also, treasure, freaking box? Come on, surely as a writer you could have done better than that? You didn’t have to use the ‘c’ word, but surely you could have found a better euphemism for the vagina, than ‘treasure box’?

Also, what was with the purple prose?

Gazes met and held.The earth stood still to allow for these two powerful forces to become one. Tenderly he lowered his mouth to her waiting lips. Her lips parted as he slid his tongue between the soft , sweet flesh. He explored the tender silk, and drank of its confection…

If I wanted to read this kind of crap, I’d pick up a historical.

The one thing that I can’t forgive in this book was how fucking dull it was. The other day,  I IMed Jane, and asked her if it was a good thing to be thinking about why 12% of people spammed, actually bought goods from the spam e-mails, whilst I was reading an anal scene in an erotic romance book.
Your book had a similar effect on me, except this time, I caught myself wondering why I never knew that Mars Bars were made by Masterfoods.

What a total waste of money and two hours.

Book? £6.99. Fireplace? £699. Throwing book into fireplace? Fucking priceless.

What happens in Vegas, anthology by Jodi Lynn Copeland, Anya Bast, Lauren Dane and Kit Tunstall.

The universe seems to be determined to show me how wrong I’ve been in avoiding short stories, by shoving some really good ones in front of me. Mind you, no complaints from this corner. What happens in Vegas is the first erotic stories anthology from Spice Books.

Behind closed doors, the real games begin…
Winning it big. That’s the name of the game at Las Vegas’ Liege Hotel and Casino, where the hottest fantasies hinge on a roll of the dice… and the tantalizing knowledge that anything could happen before sunrise.

Each story is around a hundred pages long—well under my usual comfort zone—and while some missed the mark with me, a couple hit it dead center. Bear in mind, as always, that what bothered me may very well be what other readers like best about each story. So, without further ado, here are the reviews. (I included the short blurbs from the back cover for each story in its review.)

“Hot for you” by Jodi Lynn Copeland

Cocktail waitress Carinna wants a man to tie her up, not tie her down. Little does she know that her most willing partner yet has something else planned for this fiery Latina bombshell.

A quick summary: Carinna and Jake have been best friends since childhood, until one fateful night four months prior to the story, when they fall in bed. Jake panics and leaves, Carinna is more upset about it that she’d like to be, since she a) is commitment phobic, and b) only wants to have her close friendship with him back.

Ms Copeland uses a new-to-me technique for this story: first person voice from both protagonists, alternating the point of views from both hero and heroine while moving the plot along seemed very fresh and interesting to me. Furthermore, the underlying story felt rather sweet to me—he knows he wants forever with her, she only wants friendship (perhaps with some fringe *cough* benefits) and doesn’t want to hurt him.

I had three issues with this story, though. First, the word choices through most of the intimate scenes put me off as being a bit too crude. I don’t consider myself to be prudish and, with one marked exception, it’s not the (sexual) actions described that bothered me, but the words used to describe them. Second, the exception: there is one particular incident, near the end, that yanked me even further out of the story. For me, it crossed the line between consent and violence, and completely colored my take of the story as a whole. Third and last, much is made of Carinna’s issues with relationships and trust, yet it would seem that she overcomes them pretty much from one moment to the next in the ending.

All in all, this one missed me completely—without that one scene, the grade would have been considerable higher. This one is 4 out of 10 for me.

“Stripped” by Lauren Dane

Dahlia is a burlesque dancer with a brain for business and a bod for sin. Her latest admirer may be a sweet-talking Casanova, but despite what he thinks she’s not giving anything away free.

Dahlia is a working class, small town girl with ambition and the determination to go places. In business, she has confidence and a sense of self-worth. In her personal life, though, she is insecure, marked by experiences with men who have thought her nothing more than a trophy.

Nash comes from a wealthy family; both his brother and his mother are quite the snobs, fixated on social class and financial worth. He is the exception, working hard at earning his own money, instead of living off a trust fund. While his attraction to Dahlia seems very natural to him, it’s his feelings for her that surprise him—and his inner dialogue endeared him to me. At one point, he and Dahlia exchange presents:

“Good God, she’d made him a shirt. Made it with her own hands and creativity. Crap, his presents didn’t even compare to her thought and effort. He was a fortunate man.”

I really liked the fact that, despite the short page count (just over a hundred) this story covered several months in the protagonists’ relationship. Since the hero and heroine meet on the first couple of pages, it made it that much easier for me to believe that they would be able to work on their issues enough that, by the end of the story, a future together was not only possible, but very much likely.

Still, there’s a lot of time and events and day to day things happening in six months to pack in such a small space, so there are moments when I felt I was being told what the characters felt, rather than shown. Then there would be a scene, a moment, when the characters felt something so intensely, and Ms Dane expressed it so beautifully, that it touched me very deeply.

This one hit most of the right buttons for me. 7 out of 10.

“Red-Handed” by Kit Tunstall

Meanwhile, Amy has the perfect plan to rob the Liege Casino blind… until the intimidating owner catches her red-handed. Now she knows she’s going to pay… with both pleasure and pain.

Amy is caught by casino security while helping her cousin cheat, and won’t give him up. Roan, son of the owner of the casino, agrees to be repaid in trade—Amy will become not his mistress but his submissive for six weeks, and the debt will be considered cleared.

Without any sort of conversation or previous knowledge, Roan knows everything there is to know about what makes Amy tick—sexually—and he’s never wrong. Pain, bondage, exhibitionism. Whatever he does to her, she craves more.

I have a lot of issues with this setup—there’s only so far I can suspend my disbelief, and this story is set well beyond that line. Nothing from Amy’s reactions—physical or emotional—to Roan’s motivations rang true to me. The entire thing was much too contrived.

This one missed me by a mile; it missed me so badly, it’s a 2 out of 10.

“The Deal” by Anya Bast

Professional shill Cassidy is ready to experience a breathless rendezvous with her “friend with benefits.” But when he proposes five delicious nights of sexy blackjack, the stakes have never been so high.

Before the story begins, Cassidy has been jilted at the altar. It is the best man, James, who offers her the moral support and friendship she needs to pick herself up and keep going. In the year since, they have become the best and most intimates of friends, sharing dreams, worries, and every day things. What Cassidy doesn’t know is that James has always had a thing for her—and even he is surprised at how deep those feelings run.

It may sound strange to say this of an erotic story, but “The Deal” is a sweet romance. I really liked how the deep level of friendship between the two main characters is established within a couple of pages, because that made it much easier to follow and believe the changes in their relationship.

At just under one hundred pages, and with the action encompassing less than a week, this story just wouldn’t have worked as a romance without the prior friendship between Cassidy and James. The way it is written, though, I had absolutely no problem seeing how close they are from page one.

I really liked this one. 7.5 out of 10.

Thanks to Emily over at Erecsite, I came across this little gem from Ann Jacobs. Apparently, she’s still pissed at JC Wilder, and in her oh-so-passive-aggressive way, takes another swipe at Wilder, in a post entitled A Word On Pseudonyms.

She starts by explaining the reasons for her pseudonyms, and then she launches into the real reason for her post:

Some authors may use a pseudonym, or another one, because they’re writing books of a different type than what they’re best known for. In ebooks, authors may use two or more identities so it looks as if the “real” author isn’t putting out too many books.

Can you all guess where this is headed?

If I were to take a position in publishing other than as an author (which I’m not), I would use my legal name–all of it, not just my first name which happens to be “Ann”, with a made-up last name. I doubt, in that case, that any of my publishers or former publishers would fail to see that “their” author was working for a competitor in a position that might or might not show a potential conflict of interest.

Oh gee, I wonder who she’s referring to? Let me think…

Come to think of it, I would even *inform* all my publishers that I was taking this paid position with a competitor, before doing so. That’s because I would want no questions raised later if one of those publishers I wrote for sensed a conflict of interest on my part.

Seriously, could she be any more sanctimonious?

When someone comes up with another name (besides their legal one) without informing anybody–publishers, other authors, etc., it stands to reason that the “new” pseudonym wouldn’t be connected to the author’s original one(s), or to her legal name.

In a world where most business is conducted online, it’s quite reasonable that a potential conflict of interest can be cloaked until the author shows up at an in-person gathering of publishers and authors, and “outs” herself there.

And she calls herself a professional? Professional, my arse. Professional Suck-Up maybe.

Pseudonyms are good to hide behind if you don’t want your neighbors or your kids’ friends knowing how you earn your living. They’re bad when they cloak identities that will eventually be discovered once the person steps out and put a face to that name–a face that’s already known by another name, particularly.

Good grief. Indida’s infamous ‘Just write, bitch’ seems quite apt at this point.

Well, the wench was determined to become my Fucktard of The Week, and now she’s succeeded. I hope she feels honoured. Only very special people get on this list.