For you

I saw a suggestion for this on twitter. Sometimes I forget I'm an erotica author as well as a horror author and need to stretch my wings and push my talent. I hope you think I pushed myself farther when you read the following.

 

A letter to my sister:  

Remembering it is a sin, but what difference does it make now? I’m going to hell for what we did and nothing I do now is going to change that. I don’t care, Karen. I don’t care how wrong or taboo our time together was. I don’t care what our parents say. I don’t care what the world thinks about it. I want you. I love you. I want to wrap my naked body up in yours and feel the heat from our passion pulling the sweat from my skin. I want to feel the need growing with my cock as I lick every inch of you. I want to feel the pressure of your cock in the back of my throat and taste the saline of your pre-come like creamy velvet on my tongue.

Do you remember how it started? Do you remember the nervousness that danced in our stomach? We both knew it was wrong, but the look in our eyes, the ravenous need that sprung up inside of us blotted out right and wrong. It deleted every thought about religion and family and societal norms. I saw you for the person you really were, the person you had been hiding for so fucking long, and instantly nothing else mattered. It was right, Karen. Everything we did was right and I want to do it again.

Being raised Catholic repressed us. Its cliché now to even acknowledge such things but the truth is the truth and I’ve promised myself I’m not going to lie. Not about this. You were forced to live a lie, one that I made you perpetuate because I was afraid. I didn’t want to admit you were actually someone else. I told you just ignore the voice inside your head. I told you to pray. I told you to just go along with things because it was what god wanted. I said the things you told me, the secrets you confided in me, the confessions you wept into your pillow were all sins. I thought the devil was at work within you. Now I know different.

They wouldn’t understand. They’d think we’re sick and twisted and maybe in some ways we are. Whatever may inflict us, whatever this disease of the soul may be actually be, I don’t care. I want you. I want your cock in me. I want my cock in you. I want to lick your tight ass, to stick my tongue inside you and fell the warmth radiate. I want to hear you moan as I push inside you. I want to whimper in that ecstasy as the pressure of your swollen dick enters me. I want it all, and I want it now and forever. Religion be damned. Our family be damned.

Oh Karen, I can’t ever forget what we did. I can’t ignore the passion that lights my heart on fire every single time I think of you and that perfect body. I never wanted to put a penis in my mouth until I saw yours.  I never understood the pain you felt at hiding your true self until that night, and now I have something to hide as well. Now I understand, if only a small portion, the hell you lived through. I should have supported you. I should have loved you unconditionally like a good brother. I should have defended you and fought beside you. Would it change things if I told you I want to do those thing now? Will you come back to me and make love to me now that I understand?

When you first came out and told our parents that you were a woman trapped in a man’s body I laughed. I thought you were crazy. I didn’t understand. What you were telling me was against god. It was a sin, an unforgivable transgression that could only be wrought upon one of the faithful by Satan himself. He had tempted you, and you had been weak. I know now that I was the weak one. After you got into the screaming match with Mom and Dad I followed you upstairs. I promised our parents I would try and talk some sense into you. I sat on the edge of your bed and chided you, prayed for you, did everything but listen to you. I felt hurt, but not an empathetic kind of hurt. I felt hurt for me and our parents that we should have to suffer your insanity. I worried about the other members of the church would say, what our neighbors and friends would say.

I got angry and said things…things I wish I could take back. I left you. I walked out of your life and hated you.

The I saw you.

That day… I’ll never forget that day. You came home after a year. You had disappeared out of our lives while you lived as the person you were born to be. I became my sister. In so many ways my brother died the day you left, and good riddance. He was a fraud, a liar. You are and always have been my sister. You were born the day you left and even though I didn’t know it at the time that was the happiest day of my life.

Back to that day. You came home to get the last few things that meant anything to you. I wasn’t one of them. I sat on the edge of your bed once again, looking at you through new eyes. I’d never have thought you could be so beautiful but there you were, sunlight shimmering in off your dark hair and lighting the incredible blue of your eyes. You smiled through full lips and looked so incredibly happy that the callouses surrounding my heart fell away. I loved you once more, but not as a sibling.

I noticed your breasts immediately. How could I not? You had had them on display in that skimpy shirt, the tight V hugging the pale mounds and showing me that perfect flesh. Your thin waist curved perfectly to feminine hips, the bulge of your cock pressing against the tight jeans. It was like getting struck by lightning, the sudden and complete lust that overtook me. I’m grateful for that lust because it gave me the strength to get off your bed, cross the room, and grab you.

The look of shock in your eyes was both alluring and sad. When I kissed you, when my tongue entered your hot mouth there was a moment of resistance, and then you melted in my arms and wrapped me in a tight embrace. I grew hard, my cock pressing to yours and throbbing with electric need. I felt you grow hard and my hand sought out the firm length, digging between your smooth skin and the rough jeans. You wore no panties and I easily found the hardness, stroking it, feeling that incredible rigid heat sheathed in loose skin.

I didn’t know what I was doing when I dropped to my knees but quickly learned. Your moans and sighs were instruction enough. Oh my beautiful sister how I loved sucking your cock.

Lone Survivor Releases Monday June 15th

 

My first Booktrope release, Lone Survivor, comes out Monday June 15^th. I’ve never spent so much time working on publicity for a book. I’ve done blogs, podcasts, radio shows, set up a thunderclap campaign, advertised on Facebook, and gotten a couple hundred mentions on various social media. I’m pushing hard to help this book be the success I know it should be, but will that result in amazing sales? I’ll let you know.

I wanted to dedicate this blog to that book because I believe in it. I believe in the words I

wrote, re-wrote, edited, re-edited, re-re-edited, proofread, polished, and finally approved. I worked with a kick ass editor, a stellar proof reader, an amazing book manager, and had a ton of support from the imprint manager. The cover was designed and polished, hand drawn and worked over and over until we got what, I believe, is a fucking amazing and captivating piece of art.

So now the work is all done and some of the reviews are coming in. What are people saying about this book?

Reviews:

 

This is a fun slant on what has become a very over-saturated sub-genre. Author Jensen wisely focuses on the zombie Sasquatch once our apocalyptic world is established but, the walking corpses still appear and appear often, to satisfy those that can't get enough of them. The story moves very fast and the author is very descriptive, though sometimes at a fault…did I really need Jim's impression of Bigfoot's manhood…not really. There is a lot of bloody action and overall it is an entertaining read.

4 Stars

this is the first book i have read by Mr Jensen and i was not disapointed ...it was such a good book i had to finish it in one evening ....i cant wait to read more by him and would hope others will try his books also

5 Stars

BADASS Mr. Jensen. I don't need anymore words than that

5 Stars

I REALLY liked this! As a huge fan of The Walking Dead, I wasn't sure how I would react to this zombie novel, but I was oh so pleasantly surprised. The writing was clear, descriptive, and engaging. Jim, the main character, was so human it hurt. Kudos for the plot twist that makes this not-your-typical-zombie novel.

5 Stars

There are others, but I’m not trying to brag or only post the best reviews. Kindle has 6 reviews, 4.6 stars. People are reading it and enjoying the hell out of it, and that’s one of the reasons I do what I do.

 

So what is this book about? Here’s the synopsis:

 

One man. One Bigfoot. One billion zombies.
In the land of the dead, reanimated corpses hunt through the shadows. Man has turned against man in an unforgiving apocalypse where only death can thrive. When there is no one left to trust, nowhere left to turn, you have to fight to make it another day just to become the Lone Survivor.
Jim has been making through the apocalypse on his own. A chance encounter with the mythical creature known as Bigfoot gives him an inadvertent ally, but Jim quickly learns that friendships made after the end of the world don’t last long.
After Bigfoot gets bitten by a zombie during a bloody fight, the man-ape begins to turn. Now there’s more dangerous things out there than the festering corpses of man, and it’s eight feet tall and weighs more than four hundred pounds.
When fate throws Jim yet another curve ball, this time in the form of two damaged female survivors, Jim must decide if he is going to help them survive, or leave them to fend for themselves. Will Jim finally become part of a group, or remain a Lone Survivor?

 

That’s great, you say. So you post some reviews and a synopsis and I’m just supposed to buy this thing? You expect me to plunk down $2.99 for your book when I’ve never read anything else by you before? How do I know if I’m going to like it?

 

Here’s an excerpt:

 

I moved as quickly as I could in the thick brush and swung my machete. The zombie reached for me, oblivious to the blade cutting through the air. It hit the neck, severing it cleanly, sending the head pin-wheeling through the air. I was on to the next corpse before the head hit the ground. I chopped through the next two easily enough, but then lost my footing swinging at the fourth one. I went down on one knee and the thing was on me in seconds. I felt the skeletal hands grabbing my hair. Bones got tangled up, and as I tried to pull away from the thing, I only succeeded in pulling it closer. The stench of death and excrement was so strong, my eyes watered. 

I got a hand under the chin and pushed as hard as I could until the fragile neck popped. The body went limp. The last four zombies were close enough to touch, but I was stuck with a corpse wrapped up in my hair like some perverted bow. I shoved as hard as I could, ripping the fingers out, along with a few good-sized chunks of my hair. Son of a bitch, it hurt. But fuck it, I needed a haircut anyway. 

I shoved the broken corpse into the next three and sent all of them falling to the ground. That gave me enough time to cut the head off the slowest one, a small female in dirty sweatpants. I moved around her, grabbed another female zombie by the head, and twisted. She went limp, but her jaw still worked, opening and closing around the four teeth she had left. A black, dried-out tongue reached for me. I stomped on the head a few times until the skull gave way and then returned to the three stooges currently falling all over each other in a desperate attempt to get back up. 

Three quick whacks with the machete finished them all off. It was too dark to do anything with the bodies, so I left them for morning. I’d burn them down the road tomorrow. 

I headed back for Veronica and took her hand. She didn’t seem to mind the gore covering my big mitt, or if it bothered her she did nothing about it. She had just stood there watching me kill the zombies, an expression of fascination on her face. I wondered what she would have done if I hadn’t come along. Would she have run away, or just stood there and let the dead do what they do? I made a conscious decision to not think about it and just get the girl back inside. 

By the time we got returned to the trailer, the other two were inside waiting for us. Alice had the desperate look of worry painted on her face, but that melted off when she saw us. She smiled and waved, calling us to the safety of the indoors. Night rushed up behind us, ready to nip at our heels and pull us into the hungry shadows, but we got into the warm light of indoors with just enough time to lock the monsters out.

 

So there you go. You get zombies in a post-apocalyptic world, a Bigfoot that may or may not get turned into Zombie Bigfoot, and a man trying his best just to survive. He meets some friends and a whole lot of enemies during my tale, but through it all he remains true to

himself and does what he knows is right. He might not be perfect, but would you be?

 

Here’s the links for the books. I sincerely hope you put your faith in me, spend the $2.99, and leave me an honest revue. Let me know what you think. I’ll post my social media contact info as well.

 

Thank you.

 

AmazonKindle

 

Barnesand Noble Nook

 

Goodreads

 

Facebook and Facebook

 

Twitter

Guest Post: Scarlet Darkwood

Today I don't just claim some kind of internet friendship with my guest blogger. I can say I actually got to meet Scarlet in person and got to spend some time talking with her about all things Booktrope, our wonderful Imprint Manager Bethany Halle, and the Edge and Entice line our publisher has out. We spoke a lot about erotica and the publishing world one hot afternoon in late May. It was a wonderful time and I got to make new friend, which doesn't happen very often. So now you can sit back, kick up your feet, and enjoy some of her words. I give you Scarlet Darkwood.

 

 

Men, Women, And The Circles Of Sex Or Celibacy

I once had a nurse practitioner comment that sex was better with friends. Really? The thought had never occurred to me, but as I stepped into the world of sexual activity, I saw it could make sense--if you knew the boundaries and what you expected. Probably what the nurse really meant was that sex between two friends equaled a safer experience psychologically, one where no one would end up with a broken heart.

What’s interesting about this is that my first time was with a gentleman I’d been friends with for three years before we actually took the step into the bedroom, and it seemed to have happened out of the blue. Never had we discussed sex during our friendship. We really didn’t even date on a regular basis, but somehow got together and attended plays or the occasional concert; we also worked at the same place, but

different departments. One night on the way to a play, he blurted out, “I wonder what it would be like to sleep with you?” It was like our hormones had been raging at the same time.

And that was it. When we got back to my place, it happened. We never saw each other again. His departure didn’t make me feel bad or cheap. I knew what I wanted, and that was an initiation into sex by someone safe, one who wouldn’t degrade me. I knew where we stood, and the role he played for me. Years later, I still have no regrets with him being the first. We were just friends, we came together one time, and that was it. Fine with me--and obviously with him too. But remember, there were three years of no sexual activity. And to be honest, I never felt the drive to do anything more with him. Enjoying simple companionship was enough for us.

When asked in a group, men and women will all agree that two people of the opposite gender can be just friends, but get those individuals apart, you might hear different stories. As a female, I say that it’s more than possible that men and women can be just friends, while my spouse gives an emphatic no. The reason for this, he says, is because men think about sex. But he offered another suggestion: it might be possible to be just friends once people are in their fifty’s or older.

Can’t disagree with my spouse where age is concerned. I would venture to say younger people, who’s bodies are running hot, probably find sex more important than older people. Appearance may play a big role, to some degree, but there are men who break

down if they’re desperate enough. So what makes a man and woman just friends? Is it age, lack of libido, no chemistry?

A lady I know admitted to me one time that she and her spouse had gone for years without sex, and for some unknown reason, didn’t seem driven by urges, nor compelled to get the sexy spark back. When asked about what happened, she stated that age, fatigue, and difficulty with joint stiffness definitely played a part. Libido didn’t run high anymore as they settled into more mature phases of life. It had been like the sex had dropped off little by little like a slow leak, until she woke up and realized that she and her spouse hadn’t been together in ages.

But she told me something interesting. Their marriage was just as solid and strong, with neither feeling like they were lacking or being denied. They talked about it at times, just to check in with each other. According to her, she and her mate enjoyed traveling, talking, and basically spending time together--all without the trappings of sex. To her sex did not a marriage make, but the enjoyment of each other to the exclusion of others did. She’d discovered she’d rather be with her mate than anyone else, and he felt the same.

They also communicated well with each other, talked out their differences, discussed odd and unusual topics, sometimes drifting into what others would consider eyebrow-raising conversations. Sex had become the least important, with other considerations taking center stage. The best part, they were more than comfortable with their lifestyle.

As far as what compels the decision to leave out sex in a relationship and still hang together, that answer could be multi-faceted, with many possibilities. Individuality, personal preferences, situations, and needs play a part too. And don’t forget religion, which can muddy the waters for some people. The most important thing to consider, whichever path you take in a relationship, don’t bind yourselves to expectations and rules. This can lead to sure disaster if someone doesn’t hold up their end of the bargain. The happiest friends, spouses, boyfriends, or girlfriends are those who go with the flow, enjoy the relationship, and the fun and security it offers.

So the answer to the question, “can men and women just be friends,” I’d say yes.

***Scarlet Darkwood is an author of erotica, romance, paranormal, horror, gothic, thriller.

You can connect with her here:

www.scarletdarkwood.com

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Guest Post: Joseph Rubas

Joseph Rubas is another fellow Horror Hooligan for the Forsaken imprint over at my publisher, Booktrope. Joseph certainly has a vision for horror, and life in general. Check out what he has to say:








The Benefits of Exposure

                                    By Joseph Rubas

 

 

May 4, 2015. The day the publishing industry rose up against the evils of non-paying markets. I was scanning my Facebook feed (as I often do, because I have no life), and I noticed a lot of my writer friends posting derogatory comments, pictures, posts, videos, and what the hell ever else, about non-paying magazines. Their argument was that a writer should get paid for his work. Alright. I can get behind that. I’m a writer. I like money. Make it rain!

 

Then I realized, after hours of watching non-paying markets being vilified (I shall forever refer to May 4, 2015 as Literarischkristallnacht, or Literary Crystal Night...look it up) that non-paying markets aren’t the Great Satan my asshole friends were making them out to be. Sure, if a market can’t pay their writers in cash money (or, at the very least, a contributor’s copy), then chances are they’re not a very good market to submit to. I mean, the owner could just be lining his own pockets. You never know. However, there are good markets out there that don’t pay.

 

I know how that sounds, but hear me out.

 

It’s industry standard for these FTL markets to pay with “exposure.” That is, your pay is the joy of knowing your work is out there being read. A lot of markets that “pay” in exposure are also markets that don’t have exposure: They’re just another .com ezine lost in the crowd. There are some, though, that can provide exposure, and despite all the snide little memes (EXPOSURE ISN’T PAYMENT, ITS SOMETHING YOU DIE FROM, LULZ!) exposure, honest-to-god exposure, does it have its benefits, especially for young, beginning, or not-well-known writers. I won’t name names, but there’s a good FTL market out there, an onlize zine, that does very well for itself. It has several thousand unique hits a week, it’s published major authors (Piers Anthony, Joe R. Lansdale, Joseph Rubas), and its anthology series has gotten some great feedback on Amazon. For the beginning writer, this type of exposure is a godsend. It get their name out, and it pairs it, as it were, with some of the biggest names in the horror/fantasy/science fiction genre. Sure, they don’t pay, but when you’re just starting out, exposure can be more important than money. It can help readers find you. And without readers, you’re just another pen scribbling in the dark.

 

If your name is Stephen King, you don’t have to worry about exposure. You have a million dollar publishing house doing that for you. But if you’re a small guy, an indie, you will find that exposure is...tops. If you don’t expose yourself, who’s gonna do it?

 

Two things that you need to know, however:

 

One: For every good “exposure only” market, there are fifty, a hundred bad ones. Ones run by greedy assholes out to make a quick buck at your expense; ones that are genuine in their love for literature, but can’t rise above the herd, and thus remain lost in the void. It’s up to you to separate the wheat from the chaff.

 

Two: The publishing industry (genre notwithstanding) is stuffed, and I mean stuffed with assholes. Imagine Thurston Howell III from Gilligan’s Island. You know, the millionaire with the stereotypical Yale accent? You’ll find so many of those types you’ll wanna just give up. Fuck those guys. With editors, you have to be careful when listing your past markets in a cover letter: Though story should ultimately win out no matter what, a lot of them do look at where you’ve been published before, and, if your past markets are the lowest of the low (the FTL markets that can’t even give you exposure) they do hold their little brandy sniffers like flamers and say, “They’re just not our type, Lovey.” I’m friends with a lot of editors on Facebook, and I know for a fact one of them posted a brief update regarding a slight formatting error I made in a submission to him. Funny thing is, he sent me a form rejection two hours earlier that made no mention of it. Not even a quick “Whatever you did with the formatting? Don’t do it again.” Oh, but editors are SO busy. They can’t personalize your rejection. Well, they can sure as hell take the time to whip up a mocking Facebook status, now, can’t they?

 

Thankfully, the industry is changing, and writers now have the option of perusing non-traditional avenues. Those dickwad editors? Their days are numbered.

 

Anyway, yeah, FTL markets have their benefits, just make sure you find a good one. And don’t let what I said about editors scare you off. Even they can recognize a good FTL market from a bad one. If you have good ones on your resume, they’re more likely to not reject you out of hand.

 

So...uh...get crackin’.