My Sexy Saturday: Let's Get Sexy On - @MySexySaturday #Saturday7 #MSSWeek38 #MySexySaturday, March 1st

Welcome to My Sexy Saturday, Week 38. This blog hop is hosted by author Lynn Crain. The hop consists of sexy snippets from romance works, published or WIP, which stick to a theme. And this week's theme is: Sex or how a couple relates physically, mentally and emotionally in the sack. Or where ever they get together. Snippets are 7 words, 7 sentences or 7 paragraphs. My snippet went over the number but I couldn't cut the scene. FORGIVE ME. Besides, it's not polite to interrupt a couple. The scene is from SOMETHING ELSE WICKED, book 2 of THE FELIG CHRONICLES by P. J. DEAN, my paranormal/IR romance series.

In the scene, Nate and Tina are enjoying the calm before the storm of a deadly showdown at a charity function. Knowing they will be entering the lion's den and that they may not survive, they make love and Nate reveals more about himself.

Read the rest of the blog hop participants' snippets, go to: http://www.mysexysaturday.blogspot.com

"Something new?" Tina peeled off her shower wrap and dashed under the covers.

"Trust me. Close your eyes." Nate stripped off his pajama bottoms and stood looking down at her. He climbed back on the bed, snatched away the sheet and stretched out over Tina.

"W-h-hat the hell are you doing?" She gritted out, eyes flying open.

"Shhh! Close the eyes, please." He policed her as she did. Forehead to forehead, hand to hand, toe to toe. He worked up to a soft orange glow throughout his whole being and pulsated. "Now, open your eyes, Miss Mouth," Nate whispered. "Don’t be afraid. It’s me. You got over the wings. You can get over this. Please open your eyes."

Tina did as instructed cautiously. Upon seeing her lover's state, she wanted to run. But fainting would do nicely right now too. She swallowed and then quipped nervously, "First, the wings. Now you fuckin' glow and pulsate. Full of surprises. You’re a human electric blanket!"

"Or the world’s largest adult toy. No batteries needed." He pressed his open mouth to hers while he rubbed his pulsating body against her. Their all-consuming, kiss threatened to extract their souls and neither one of them were worried about it. The charged atmosphere had them panting in no time. "Ease up!" Nate gasped, prying Tina’s mouth and fingers from him. He didn’t want to come yet. Tina’s frown disappeared when he pushed her onto her back and kissed down her body leaving a trail of hot hand prints. Parting her firm thighs, he zeroed in on that beckoning, sweet spot, teasing her to climax.

"Oh! Sweet Lord! Oh! Yes!"Tina pulled at his head and shoulders as she tensed and released. Nate smiled against her inner thigh. He captured her hands, rose up and wedged himself between her legs. "No breather?"a euphoric Tina asked.

"No time to waste." He relinquished her hands and instead gripped her hips. Look at me." In seconds, a gasping Tina watched as Nate entered her. At contact, his wings launched with a sound akin to opening an umbrella. Awash in perspiration, they slipped and slid against each other. One, fire, one catching fire. He gripped her tighter, rushed and retreated faster and deeper. Tina looked up into eyes that reflected the tenderness and fervor in her own. She scooted lower to give him greater access and to completely give herself over to the moment. The move always drew a guttural "Yes" from Nate. His orange glow went into flash mode as he watched Tina finger her nipples, and as she ran her hands over his heaving chest. He felt her questing continue down to where they joined. It took all his concentration not to come yet. That move almost undid him. Nate fanned his wings in order to keep the bed from igniting. The wet, the warmth, the woman. "Keep doing that, Tina, and I’ll be way past gone." He struggled to sound coherent. 

She played her hand over his slick, jerking stomach. Staring him down, she murmured, "Then go, babe. I'm almost there again."

Tina’s trust and surrender combined with her permission tipped him over the edge. "Good God, yes! Tina!" Nate lost rhythm and careened into her.

A second sweet explosion blindsided Tina. She clutched his back and nipped at his neck as she got washed along in his chaotic flood.

Leveling his face with hers, he managed, "We’re good together, T. Oh so good," He remained in her, not moving, savoring her muscles still reverberating around him.

"That we are, hon," she said, capturing his head between her two hands, her bright brown eyes locking with his cool blue ones. "That we are."

Nate planted an innocent kiss on her forehead. He rested his head on her breasts and they fell asleep in each other's embrace under the shelter of his outstretched wings.

Putting the X in Sexy - My Sexy Saturday Week 37 #MSS, #Saturday 7- February 22nd

This is my 4th week participating in the My Sexy Saturday Blog Hop hosted by author Lynn Crain. Participating romance authors from all genres may submit around 7 words, 7 sentences or 7 paragraphs from WIPs or published works that match the week's given theme.This week's theme is all about the kiss and how it's done by the characters in one's romance book. So here is my take between my favorite couple, Nate and Tina..

 

This week's sexy snippet comes from a future installment in my FELIG CHRONICLES interracial/paranormal romance series. The book will be called, PARADOX.

 

Please visit the other blog hop participants' blogs to see their snippets at the following link.

http://www.mysexysaturday.blogspot.com

Now, onto Nate and Tina.         

“What else do you want to do besides stare?” In the quiet of their bedroom and in the solace of their bed, Tina held him at arm's length and gazed intensely at him. As she kneaded the comforting forearms caging her in and then stroked his solid biceps, she whispered, “Tell me. In detail.”

“I want to tease you." He tickled her under her arm. "I want to taste you." He dipped his head to sweep his tongue across her collarbone. "I want you,” Nate recited hoarsely and slowly. “I want you, me, us to lose control.”

“That’s a long list to get through.” Tina brushed her fingers through his wheat-colored locks.

“And I do want to get through it. I want to hear you draw out my name on a long breath.” Nate pressed his lips to her shoulder and kissed a moist path up her neck to her face. He hesitated millimeters from her parted, waiting lips to continue, “And I want to hear it gush from you as if you can’t help yourself.”

“And I want to hear the same from you,” she replied. “Except neither one of us will hear the other unless you turn down the music some.” She cocked her head to the side. “You added male voices to the mix. I like it.”

“How could I leave out Teddy Pendergrass's Close the Door? T, honey, you’ll hear me. You know I’m not shy about letting you know how much I like something. Are you sure you’re up for this? It’s not too soon after what’s happened?” he inquired as reservedly as possible, all his cylinders firing, hoping.

“Nate!” Tina yanked his hair for a change making him focus. “I want to. I need to. We need to. If I were any more ready for this I'd be the one with the hard-on. I’m gonna say this once: you may jump my bones.”

He slipped his fingers through her dark brown jumble of mini-twists and palmed the back of her head, drawing it forward. Millimeters were closed in milliseconds. Eager lips became re-acquainted and whispered promises that would be granted that night. The pair’s mutual glow made the room's lit candles redundant.

       
       

The Ratchet need to sit the Hell down!

Again the land of sunshine, Mickey Mouse and miscarriages of justice has spoken. The article below says so much about the debacle of the Michael Dunn trial in ratchet-assed Florida. The article that I have linked below has the man himself actually summing up pretty well the type of person he is.

But have no fear. According to that sorry-assed excuse for a prosecutor, Angela Corey, Dunn's assault on a car armed with blaring hip-hop music and chocked full of Black teens had nothing to do with race. O-o-o-o-okay. So, is she saying if they'd been blaring a "Mumford and Sons" tune they wouldn't have been fired on?

The child he executed, Jordan Davis, would have been 19 years old this past February 16.


http://thinkprogress.org/justice/2014/02/18/3300561/michael-dunn-compares-rape-victim-newly-released-calls-prison/

Mr. Dunn's life has fallen into the same abyss that has gobbled up George Zimmerman. Like I said, the Universe abhors a vacuum. And goes to great lengths to rectify it

My Sexy Saturday #MSS36, - February 15th - I Feel Sexy - #MSS, #Saturday7

This is my third week participating in the My Sexy Saturday Blog Hop hosted by author Lynn Crain. Participating romance authors from all genres may submit 7 words, 7 sentences or 7 paragraphs from WIPs or published works that match the week's given theme.This week's theme is having your book's characters feeling sexy and showing it toward one another. This can take many forms. But this being Valentine's Day weekend, I picked the obvious way in the romance world. My excerpt depicts that choice. The couple in my Interracial/paranormal romance series, THE FELIG CHRONICLES, Nate Lowe and Tina Cain, have been through a lot. In this snippet from book 2 of the series, SOMETHING ELSE WICKED, our fearless couple is recovering from an harrowing assassination attempt on Nate, in the one way which heals him and them and re-affirms their love.

Please visit the rest of the authors participating in the blog hop at http://www.mysexysaturday.blogspot.com

Thanks for stopping by.


“You make it sound like the end is near.” She tried to escape his fingers.

“We have to celebrate whenever, however.” Nate dipped to pick her up. “Stop crying.”

“Nate, put me down. You’re still mending. You need all your strength.” She felt his back ripple as she held onto him.

“I need you. Heal me.” At the last word, the usually concealed slits in his back, gapped and his folded wings tunneled through and unfurled.

Nate walked over and deposited her on their bed. Tina pushed the photos of Nan over the side to the floor. She rose up and tugged the lavender night dress up and off. “Nate, that still freaks me out some, but it’s growing on me.”

As he stood admiring her, she reached up and pulled the drawstring on his pajama bottoms. They fell to his ankles and he stepped out of the pool they made on the floor. Nate knelt on the bed over her. His desire evident in his manner and his flesh. “I just want you to feel safe. Lift up,” he recited in that raspy voice she recognized as a prelude to something that was going to be urgent and absolutely excellent. He hooked his thumbs in the band of her bikini undies and teased them down her toned legs and off. Nate twirled the discarded delicates on an index finger then tossed them over his shoulder. “Works the same as salt for good luck.” Tina reclined, arms stretched out above her head. “I never tire of this view.” His wings quivered in short, tight bursts. Nate nibbled a torrid path up her nude body, entwined hands above her head and locked eyes with her. “Focus on us. Can you do that?”

         "Unequivocally.” Tina kissed him deeply, wrapped her legs around him and let the healing begin.

New York Times Bestsellers List or not

This blew my mind! And it ought to blow yours. Are you reading what you want to read? Or, are you reading what's been hyped to you? Kinda shows that big publishing is a business first and foremost (forget the surveys asking you what you like). That bestseller that is on Kindles around the globe is that good. Really.Keep telling yourself that. Because the company that just shelled out 100K in advertizing just told you so. And let's face it you don't want to be the odd person out on Book Chat Night. Do you? Makes writers everywhere, who don't play the game, who work their butts off, shake their heads in wonder. But we keep on writing because we can't stop. We love our creations even when no one else does.

So go to the link below and see how we all are gamed every day.


http://www.forbes.com/sites/jeffbercovici/2013/02/22/heres-how-you-buy-your-way-onto-the-new-york-times-bestsellers-list/

American Ballet Theatre soloist, Misty Copeland

Misty Copeland (born 1982) is an American ballerina, described by many accounts as the first African American female soloist for the American Ballet Theatre (ABT), one of the three great American-style classical ballet companies on the world stage today (along with New York City Ballet and San Francisco Ballet). However, Nora Kimball, who was with the ABT in the mid 1980s preceded her. In this role as the second African-American ballerina and first in two decades with ABT, she has endured the cultural pressure associated with it. Copeland is considered a prodigy who rose to stardom despite not starting ballet until the age of 13. By age 15, Copeland's mother and ballet teachers, who were serving as her custodial guardians, fought a custody battle over her. Meanwhile, Copeland, who was already an award-winning dancer, was fielding professional offers. The 1998 legal proceedings involved filings for emancipation by Copeland and restraining orders by her mother. Both sides dropped legal proceedings, and Copeland moved home to begin studying under a new teacher who was a former ABT member. In 1998, Copeland won the Los Angeles Music Center Spotlight Award as the best dancer in Southern California. After two summer workshops with the ABT, she became a member of the Studio Company in 2000, a member of the corps de ballet in 2001, and a soloist in 2007. Stylistically, she is considered a classical ballerina and was regarded as such during her early years in the ABT. As a soloist since the autumn of 2007, she has been described as having matured into a more contemporary and sophisticated dancer.

courtesy of : www.in.com/misty-copeland/biography-200385.html 

#MSS #Saturday7 My Sexy Saturday- Come Undone Sexy -Week 35- February 8

This my My Sexy Saturday entry for week 35. I'm posting it early because knowing me, I'll forget to do it tomorrow once I'm awake and running. Here are Seven, Scintillating Paragraphs of Pure Pleasure (and Pathos!) The excerpt is taken from UNION, book 3 of The Felig Chronicles, my Interracial/paranormal romance series currently available from my publisher, eXtasy Books, and from all sellers of digital products.


When we last left my destined couple, Nate  Lowe and Tina Cain, they were re-grouping after wondering whether they had staying power as a pair beyond besting aliens and some terrific sex. They had fallen into "this thing" for selfish reasons and had discovered to their surprise that they'd clicked. Now, something unforseen had rocked their foundation. See the previous week's entry.

But this week's entry answers the MSS call for couples who can't keep their hands off each other. So in this snippet, we are taken back to a looser, freer time in their relationship (actually earlier in the book) when few surfaces in the house were safe or off-limits when the mood hit them. LOL.



"I can’t believe it. No nosey asses at the end of the drive." Tina hopped up to peek through a parted drape.

"George Clooney must have married someone," Nate joked. He walked up behind her and led her back to the sofa. As if they were sixteen year olds, heavy petting ensued as they tumbled onto the couch.

"Oh, yeah!" Nate said softly as Tina reacquainted herself with his body by rubbing and nuzzling his toned chest and kissing his cheek.

"Hey there," Tina whispered into Nate’s ear as he leaned in to tongue the hollow at the base of her neck and ease her robe off a shoulder to follow its curve with his lips.

He dug his fingers into her twists and cradled the back of her head. Suddenly, Nate ceased exploring her. He stilled Tina’s hands and then gently removed them from under his robe. He rearranged their wraps.

"Nate?" She touched his forearm. "What gives?"

"Not here. Not like this, Tina. No sticky finger on the sofa. We aren’t teenagers. I really would not want to have to jump up and try to cover both our naked butts with the cushions if someone came in. Plus, doing it on the bare upholstery is gross." He shook his head and was so somber, Tina almost laughed. "There is just something so wrong about bodily fluids and absorbent upholstery. We have to…reconnect without interruptions."

To read more blog hop participants' entries and access their links go to:
http://www.mysexysaturday.blogspot.com, a site hosted by author Lynn Crain

Charlotte Forten Grimke: Educator, Abolitionist, human being

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Today's entry in African-American history profiles a formidable woman in history. Period. It comes courtesy of http://voices.cla.umn.edu

 

Charlotte Forten Grimke was born Charlotte Forten on August 17, 1838 (some sources say 1837) in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, to proud parents and anti-slavery advocates, Robert Forten and Mary Virginia (Wood) Forten. The Biography Resource Center states that, "The Forten name had long been prominent in Philadelphia by the time she was born. " Charlotte was born into freedom and wealth and lived in the Philadelphia home of her grandfather. Her grandfather, James Forten, who was taking care of Charlotte, had invented a device which made it possible to handle sails more easily. He made a hundred thousand dollars, which was a fortune in those days.

As a young girl Charlotte Forten Grimke was aware of, and angered and confused by, the injustices being done to her people. A chapter on Forten Grimke entitled "Black Disciple of Freedom," included in Profiles in Black and White, suggests that she was very sensitive about slavery. In one telling instance, Charlotte's tutor, Mr. Edgar, tried to explain to her that she should not get so worked up and stressed out about the slaves she would see from her window:

The small black girl crept to the long window and parted the heavy draperies. She glanced back to the door to make sure she had not been observed. Through the crack, she saw a gang of recaptured slaves driven along Lombard Street, in Philadelphia. Their chains clanked; their cries of agony filtered into the silence of the high ceilinged room. She stuck out her tongue and shook her fists at the mobs of hooting whites hard on their heels. Tears trickled down her cheeks.
— Chittenden 107

With Charlotte being the only child, she was often lonely. She began to keep a journal at a very early age. But, at the age of sixteen, Charlotte's father realized her need to interact with young people her own age, so he decided to send Charlotte to Salem, Massachusetts. There, Charlotte attended integrated schools while living in the home of Charles Lenox Remond and his family. The Remonds were also abolitionists and old friends of the Fortens.

When Charlotte first arrived in Salem, she was very excited. Charlotte's feelings about slavery were firm, but she still remained a shy person. Charlotte attended Higginson Grammar School in Salem and was very active in her studies, responsibly making it her first priority. While attending school Charlotte didn't have friends in class but was close to the principal, Miss Shepard. Charlotte was a liberationist at heart. She never could stomach the fact that whites believed they were better than blacks. These feelings resulted in her renouncement of Christian ideologies of religion and spirituality. In Profiles in Black and White, Chittenden displays Charlotte's feelings toward Christianity and European traditions all at once. "Oh, it is hard to go through life. . .fearing with too good reason to love and trust hardly anyone whose skin is white--however lovable, attractive, congenial in seeming" (Chittenden 112). It also states, "Charlotte shunned the Fourth of July celebrations labeling them 'celebrations of hypocrisy. ' Her resentment nearly made her renounce God and her religion," stated E. Chittenden (112). Also according to E. Chittenden, Charlotte has stated, "how can I be a Christian when so many in common with myself, for no crime, suffer cruelty, so unjustly?"

Fortunately, Charlotte was able to direct her anger and frustrations about slavery in a positive way. Charlotte graduated with honors in February of 1855, along with the school, using the poem she wrote for a farewell hymn. That year she worked to extend her language capacity and taught herself French and Latin. Charlotte then went on to teach at a Salem Public School becoming the first African-American teacher to teach whites, but then became very ill with lung fever. She resigned from teaching because of her illness and returned to Philadelphia for four years. Charlotte worked on sketches called "Glimpses of New England. " Some of her work was published and she also continued to write poetry. Grimke found herself passionately wanting to get involved in a Union's experiment in South Carolina but was turned down because of her race; all white teachers were picked to teach all black slaves.

Grimke decided to go to the South, specifically South Carolina. Once she arrived she found another teaching job. Charlotte enjoyed teaching more in the South, she felt blacks there were more passionate about learning. "Charlotte insisted her pupils learn about Negro as well as white heroes in history; about blacks who fought in the American Revolution; about Negroes like her uncle Robert Purvis, who helped fugitive slaves on their way to Canada; about Toussaint, the Negro liberator of Haiti; about John Brown of Harper's Ferry, the black man's white friend" (Chittenden 118). "The intensity of her work, the days and evenings with children and adults, the hard physical conditions brought a return of headaches and the threat of another bout with lung fever" (Chittenden 122).

Charlotte retired and remained in Philadelphia writing articles for the Atlantic Monthly about the experiment on Fort Royal (whites teaching black slaves). Soon after, she met Francis Grimke who would become her husband and father of her only child who died. Charlotte and Francis became a revolutionary couple and continued to fight for equal rights for black men and women. Showing the urge to fight social injustices and having similar literary tastes, they made a happy pair. The death of their only child and her need to fight constantly against recurrent illness cast the only shadows on their personal happiness. They remained together comfortably in Washington where Francis had his own church. Charlotte Forten Grimke died of a cerebral embolism on July 23, 1914 in Washington.

The Super Bowl and its ads

I do not watch football. I do not like football. I do not like sports. Period. The whole competiton thing, yecch! But today’s African-American history fact is about football and is quite recent. Yesterday, Russell Wilson of the Seattle Seahawks became only the second African-American quarterback in NFL history to win a Super Bowl ring. Also, also, Richard Sherman, big ups, my man. Last week the Twitter trolls were calling you a “thug.” Baby, you can tell ‘em “yeah, now I got a Super Bowl ring. Bite my" thug" ass.”


Richard Sherman is not a "thug." Richard Sherman is a trash-talking, Stanford-educated jock. All highly skilled, hyper, competitive athletes of all colors talk trash. So do not be hypocrites. You all love the drama. End of story.


Also the Seattle Seahawks' coach requires the players to do yoga. Love it. You need flexibilty and focus to be able to move on the field in addition to speed and strength.


The Broncos never knew what hit ‘em.

For me, “thug” is the new N-word. If you notice, cretin news reporters and police officers use it freely because using the N-word would get them all kinds of grief.

As I have said, I don’t like sports. I am not one of those people sitting in the stands or on a couch shouting, “We won! We won! Fool, you won nothing. You are watching a game played by millionaires, owned by billionaires. You are a spectator at best. A consumer definitely.

Super Bowl commercials. This year’s ads were pretty good. My top ones:

Maserati: Took my breath away with this ad. Quvenzhane Wallis. Go find it on Youtube.

The Classic Coke commercial: Beautiful. Had the Twitter trolls out big time. Poor souls. Always worried about how the “foreigners” are taking over America. Guess what, darlings? Unless your ancestors' butts were here before Columbus or whatever privateer sailed over and hit these shores, you are the “foreigner.”  No wonder Twitter trolls feel put upon. History can be a bitch when you don’t know your place in it.


Oh, and BTW, "America the Beautiful" is not the U. S. National Anthem. But any real American would know that, right?

The Cheerios commercial: I don’t give props to corporations but the cereal giant DID NOT back down and double-downed instead with the IR family. Kudos!

And the Kia ad with Laurence Fishburne, Honda with Bruce Willis and Fred Armisen, and Eye Candy Royale, David Beckham in his drawers for H&M.

Breathe in, breathe out.

The land is calm now and the Titans have returned to the Heavens until next year.

Some African-American Facts for today

I thought I'd post three little-known facts in Black American history today to kick off the festivities.

Octavia Butler was a dyslexic. Despite her disorder, this science fiction writer proceeded to win Hugo and Nebula awards for her writing. She also scored a "genius" grant from the MacArthur Foundation

Shirley Chisholm ran for President of the United States in 1972. The fiery, proud educator and Brooklynite outlived 3 assassination attempts during her campaign..

Fugitive slave, Josiah Henson, escaped slavery in 1830 Maryland to live in Ontario, Canada. He established a freedmen's settlement. His autobiography, The Life of Josiah Henson, Formerly a Slave, Now an Inhabitant of Canada, as Narrated by Himself (1849), is thought to be the model for Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin.

Oh, yeah. Go Seahawks!