Sunday, October 28, 2012

Spank or Treat

I'm so excited. It's finally time for Spank or Treat! The participants have been planning for weeks and now it's finally time. Glad you could stop by.

So...what is Spank or Treat? It's Trick or Treating for Adults. Instead of running from house to house with a pillow case full of candy, you can click from blog to blog and read complete Halloween short stories (not excerpts) form all your favorite Spanking Fiction Authors.

And, if that wasn't enough, there are prizes!

  • A $50 gift certificate to Blushing Books (donated by the same)
  • A $25 gift certificate Eden’s Fantasies (donated by Starla Kaye)
  • A $10 Amazon gift certificate (donated by Stormy Night Publications)
In addition, three books will be available for Free! My book, Underwear Probation  is available for free download on Amazon October 28-31. Please spread the word! 

 You can also get these two book for Free too by visiting Lazy Day Publishing and entering "spankortreat" as the promotional code. 

  • Traditional Love by Alta Hensley
  • To Love a Woman by Jade Cary
    Enter “spankortreat” as a promotional code to purchase free at Lazy Day (October 29-31)

 Many of the bloggers will also have their own drawing on their sites.

I'm giving away a $10 Amazon gift card to a random commenter who leaves a comment, including their email address, and answers this question: If you had magical powers, what is the first thing you would do? 
To join the fun:
Visit each blog between October 29 and October 31 to read the free Halloween spanking stories. 
Post a comment answering the story question on each blog. Then visit Anastasia Vitsky’s sign up page to enter the prize drawing. Deadline is midnight EST (UCT-4) October 31, 2012.
Winners’ names will be selected by random drawing and posted on any of the participating blogs after the contest ends. it's time for my story. The Assignment is part of my short story collection, The Long Arm of the Law. I hope you enjoy it! 

The Assignment
 (c) Celeste Jones 2012

Mars Bars, Three Musketeers, Reese's Cups, Twizzlers, Snickers Bars, Milk Duds, Twix Bars, Hershey Bars. Wendy stood in the candy aisle of the supermarket; her head swimming with the possibilities that surrounded her. As much as she hated the idea of passing out such sweet treats to the brats who would be ringing her doorbell that night, she decided to at least get something that she liked, so she tossed a bag of Reese's Cups into her cart along with the bag of cheap stuff to pass out to the neighborhood kiddies.

Wendy finished her shopping and headed for the checkout counter. As usual, the line was long, and the cashier was borderline incompetent. If the last eighteen months had taught Wendy anything, they had taught her patience. She sighed, gripped the handle of her cart, and waited.

The cart ahead of her contained a little dark haired girl who appeared to be about six. Her face was smeared with chocolate from the bag of candy that her exasperated mother had finally opened to shut the child up. She smiled, and Wendy saw that her teeth were covered with brown Hershey sludge.

The cashier handed the girl's mother her receipt and handed the chocolate smeared waif a sucker. "What are you going to be for Halloween?" she asked.

The tot grinned, and a trail of chocolate-laced saliva dribbled out the side of her mouth. "An ugly, nasty, old witch!" she exclaimed.

The cashier grinned back. "Nasty old witches are the best. They are so scary and mean. I'm sure you'll have lots of fun and gets lots of candy."

The child seemed pleased by this prediction and attacked the bag of chocolate with glee as the cart headed to the parking lot.

Wendy's stomach knotted, and the fingers on her right hand began to twitch. She squeezed the handle of the cart until her knuckles were white and reminded herself of the oath that she had sworn when she took this assignment----No Magic----then she placed her items on the check-out counter.


Wendy drove home, cursing herself for agreeing to take the two-year assignment to mix and mingle in the mortal world. She and her husband, Charles, had been agents with The Mortal Outreach Bureau (The MOB) for several years and had been thrilled when they were selected for this mission. It was quite an honor, and they were both very excited about this once in a lifetime opportunity. It seemed simple enough. They were to live among the mortals for two years, learn as much as they could about the mortal way of life, and most importantly, no magic.

Overall, it really had not been all that bad. They had certainly learned a lot of new skills like vacuuming and cleaning the gutters, though Wendy was unsure how that knowledge would be of any use to The MOB. Part of their assignment was to participate in every activity that they could find. At times, it had been exhausting. Between them, Wendy and Charles had been to PTA meetings, soccer games, book club meetings, bake sales, a Bar Mitzvah, a Tupperware party, two strip bars, eight casinos, a bachelor party, and a dog show, among other things. They had joined the Masons, the Lions Club, the National Rifle Association, and the Hair Club for Men. Wendy and Charles each had notebooks filled with descriptions of their outings along with maps, newspaper clippings, appliance warranties, and a couple of good crock pot recipes.

She tried to shake off the grocery store incident, but she couldn't. Wendy had been in a foul mood all day, and she knew why. It had started that morning at breakfast.

"I'm sorry, Sweetie, but I have to work late tonight. You'll have to be in charge of passing out the Halloween candy." Charles knew his early morning announcement was not going to go over very well with his wife.

"Oh, Charles. Tonight?" Wendy whined. "You know I've been dreading this ever since last Halloween. I just don't think I can stand to pass out the candy again this year."

"I know this is upsetting for you, Wendy. And I'm really sorry." Charles pulled his wife down onto his lap and stroked the soft blonde hair that streamed down her back. "But, you'll be fine. It's been a whole year, and maybe it won't be as bad this time."

Wendy focused her sad blue eyes on her husband. "Halloween used to be my favorite holiday. Remember the fun we used to have at the Baron's Costume Ball? This assignment has ruined this holiday for me." Wendy stood up and paced the room. "I just get so tired of being stereotyped. Honestly, Charles, have you ever seen a witch with green skin? Or a wart on her nose? Or gray scraggly hair? Admittedly, my Aunt Ernestine is starting to look a bit that way, but she's two hundred and twelve, so what can you expect?" Wendy returned to the topic. "Regardless, it's just too much for me to listen to all of them talking about mean, ugly witches." She stopped her pacing and looked at her husband. "I just want to scream at them. It's just not fair, and I take it all very personally." 

Charles crossed the kitchen and wrapped his wife in his arms. "You know they don't know any better, Darling. Please don't take it to heart." He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head. "You're the most beautiful witch I know. You're also the most dedicated member of The MOB that I know, and that's why I'm sure that you'll be able to handle tonight without me." Charles tipped Wendy's head back and gave her a kiss that made her head swim.

Wendy wound her arms around her husband's neck and returned his kiss with matching fervor. She moaned her disappointment when Charles pulled away. "I really must leave…though I'd much rather stay here with you. I watched an interesting movie the other night that included making love on the kitchen table. Surely, it must be our duty to investigate the stability of Formica so that we can report back to The MOB." Charles smiled mischievously at his wife.

"Well, I do think that it's important to be thorough in our research," Wendy responded with a grin. "Too bad you won't be home in time to try it out before dinner."

Hours later, Wendy was still annoyed about Halloween. Wendy set the groceries on the kitchen table and remembered that morning's conversation. Resigned to the fact that she would have to deal with the trick or treaters herself, she headed upstairs to get ready.


Wendy smiled at her reflection in the hallway mirror. If she didn't know any better, she'd think she was on her way to the Baron's Costume Ball rather than standing in a house in the middle of suburbia waiting for a bunch of sugar-crazed trick or treaters. Her hair fell in a cascade of golden ringlets down her back. Her dress was a glorious creation of shimmering, iridescent, gold satin. It was actually two pieces: a fitted corset that created creamy mounds of cleavage and then tapered to a tiny waistline and a full skirt that gathered at the waist and fell in shiny folds to the floor.

To complete the look, Wendy found the wand that she had made for Halloween a year ago. She used a yardstick and a cut out star then she spray painted the whole thing gold and sprinkled it with glitter. She gave it a couple of practice waves in the air and then had a Reese's Cup from the bowl on the coffee table. She wasn't going to waste the good stuff on kids. Then she looked out the front door: two ghosts and a cheerleader. They seemed harmless enough. Wendy picked up the bowl of cheap Halloween candy and opened the door.

"Trick or treat!" the cheerleader shouted and waived her pom poms. The ghosts mumbled something, which Wendy assumed, was "trick or treat" but it was hard to really hear them with the sheets over their heads. Wendy dropped candy into their bags, and they ran through her yard to the Petersons’ next door.

Well, that was easy enough, Wendy told herself. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

Wrong. Wendy looked down the driveway and saw three witches headed toward her front door. They all wore long black robes, pointy black hats, and snarly gray wigs. All three had their faces painted green, and the oldest had a big wart on her nose and a nasty, oozy scar on her cheek. Wendy took a deep breath and composed herself before she opened the door.

The youngest witch stopped and stared at Wendy. "You're beautiful," she said in a hushed tone.

Wendy smiled down at her. "Why thank you. Can you guess who I am?"

"You must be a princess," the youngest witch answered. "Only a princess could be so pretty and wear such a beautiful gown."

"No, not a princess," Wendy felt her pulse start to quicken with annoyance, particularly since she knew a couple of princesses who were far from pretty and were certainly not sharp dressers.

"Then you must be a fairy," the middle sized witch said.

"No, not a fairy either," Wendy responded. "In fact, did you know that most fairies are really quite mean?"

"That's not true," the oldest witch said with authority. "Everyone knows that fairies are sweet and kind and very playful. So, who are you?"

Wendy stared at the scar-faced child and said evenly "I am a witch."

"You can't be a witch," the oldest girl assumed a bossy tone. "We're witches. Witches are ugly and wear raggedy clothes. Witches don't have blonde curly hair, and they don't wear beautiful gowns."

Wendy felt her fingertips itch with an urge to flick a spell on the impudent little brats on her front porch. Turning them into a trio of garden gnomes was very tempting. But, Wendy restrained herself and calmly tossed some black licorice drops into their bags.

"Black licorice? Yuck. We want some good stuff," the oldest witch surprised Wendy with her rudeness. "How about some of those Reese's Cups in that other bowl? What's the matter? Are you hogging those all for yourself?"

Wendy stared into the impudent child's eyes. "I've given you candy; now it's time for you to go to the next house." Apparently, the little witch sisters were not used to being spoken to with such authority because they each looked taken aback by Wendy's tone.

The oldest sister paused for a moment, then said to her siblings, "Let's get going. This house sucks anyway." And with that, the three little witch sisters turned and headed down the sidewalk.

Wendy nearly made it, but it was just too much for her. Before she knew what she was doing, the fingers of her right hand gave a quick flip and a snap and the three witches went tumbling across the lawn. Hats, wigs, and candy scattered in the breeze. Wendy stifled a laugh as she watched them chase after their belongings. The two younger sisters were more concerned with their wigs and hats, while the older sister was on her hands and knees in the yard collecting the spilled candy. Wendy noticed that she put all the good stuff into her own bag and put the licorice drops into her sisters' bags.

In all of the commotion, Wendy had not seen Charles' car pull into the driveway, so she was stunned when she saw him walk into the yard and help the girls with their costumes and candy. Wendy saw the patient way he helped them replace their wigs and hats and even tied the youngest sister's shoe. He did not look so kind and gentle, however, when he turned toward the front door.

Wendy had a sick feeling in her stomach but tried to mask it with cheerfulness. "Oh, Charles, I'm so glad that you're home," she kissed her husband and pressed her skirted lowed body against his loins. "Maybe we have time to try out that kitchen table experiment that you mentioned this morning."

"That certainly does sound appealing," Charles' eyes wandered lazily over his wife's golden clad body. "You do look very beautiful tonight, my sweet."

Wendy felt a small sense of relief. Clearly, she had distracted Charles from the trick or treaters.

"But, it appears that there are some other matters to be addressed first." Wendy's relief disappeared.

"W-what do you mean?" Wendy tried to keep her voice light and innocent.

"Wendy, the sweet and innocent thing isn't going to work with me. You should know better than that." Charles gave his wife a stern look then turned to answer the door. He dispatched a pirate, a hobo, and a football player with generous helpings from the Reese's Cup bowl then returned his attention to his errant witch of a wife.

"Trick or treating will be over soon. I'll take over here. I want you to go upstairs and wait for me. You know what to do."

Yes, Wendy did know what to do, and she wasn't happy about it one bit. She plodded slowly up the staircase, berating herself for her foolishness. It was stupid of her to use magic on those little witches. Wendy knew that now.

She went into the bedroom and stood in the corner near the closet. While she stood there, she chastised herself for ever telling Charles about the conversation that she'd overheard at a Tupperware party. She'd been eavesdropping on a variety of conversations that night when she overheard two sisters whispering about the spankings their husbands had given them the night before. She learned that many mortals viewed this practice as a way of maintaining peace and harmony in their homes. She explained what she'd learned to Charles when she got home that night. Three days later, when she wrecked the car while putting on makeup, they put what they'd learned into practice.

Wendy had a feeling that tonight's transgression was worse than a scrunched bumper. Waves of anxiety crashed in her stomach as she waited for Charles' footsteps in the hall.

Finally, the bedroom door opened. Wendy knew better than to look. She continued to stare at the wall in front of her and listened while Charles closed the door behind him and walked across the room. She heard the bed creak with his weight. "Come here, please, Wendy."

Wendy slowly turned from the corner. Her long skirt rustled in the silent room as she crossed to the bed where her husband sat. Wendy kept her eyes downcast. She really was ashamed of herself.

Charles held both of her hands in his and looked up at his wife. Blonde ringlets fell forward across her breasts as she hung her head.

"What you did tonight was very serious." Charles' voice was calm, but Wendy recognized the steely determination beneath his tone. "You could have compromised our whole assignment, not to mention our futures with The MOB, by using magic tonight." Wendy shivered with the realization, and Charles slid his hands up her arms to warm her. "I know how much you hate Halloween here, and I rushed home as quickly as I could to try to relieve you of as much of it as I could. And then I pulled into the driveway just in time to watch your hand flick just before those little witches went rolling across the lawn."

Charles squeezed his wife's arms, and she looked at him. "Those little girls could have been hurt."

"I know." Wendy felt a stab of shame at the realization that she had used magic, and broken her word, for such a petty reason.

Charles' hands were at his wife's waist. Wendy's stomach tightened as she felt them slide around her waist to the back closure of her skirt. Deft fingers unlatched the hook and slid the zipper down. Charles eased the full skirt to the floor, and Wendy stepped out of it. Charles laid the fluffy garment across the footboard of the bed and then returned his attention to his half-dressed wife. He slid his fingers into the waistband of her panties, and Wendy felt a small trill of excitement as his fingers whispered across the delicate flesh of her stomach. The panties were lowered to just above her knees, and Wendy stood before her husband, knowing what was coming, but still filled with uncertainty.

Charles slid back on the bed and pulled his wife across his lap. "I know that this hasn't been a very good day for you, Sweetie, and I'm sorry to make things worse, but I just don't think that I have any choice. Do you?"

Wendy's forlorn eyes looked over her left shoulder at her husband. "No, you don’t. I was childish and selfish, and I took a foolish risk. Not only that," Wendy felt her throat tighten with emotions, "but I put your career and your future at risk too. I had no right to do that."

Wendy buried her face in the comforter of the bed and braced herself by clenching her hands into the downy fabric. She wiggled herself into position across her husband's lap and waited for the first crack of his palm across her buns. In fact, a part of her looked forward to the release that a good spanking would bring. She'd know that she'd paid for her poor behavior and wouldn't need to feel guilty about it.

Charles prolonged his wife's waiting by slowly running the fingers of his right hand over the tender flesh of her backside. Wendy felt goosebumps break out across her hide along with a faint warm tingle in her girly parts.

The tingle was replaced with a sudden sting of pain as Charles' hand came down on her right cheek. Wendy inhaled sharply and waited for the rest of the punishment that she knew she had earned with her poor judgment.

Charles did not appear to be in any hurry. Rather than peppering her behind with rapid swats as he usually did, this time, he was taking his time and pausing after each crack to her butt. Wendy couldn't decide which was worse, the pain of his hand striking her tender derriere or the waiting for the next smack on her flesh.

The pauses between swats made it possible for Wendy to "appreciate" each one. She felt the sting against her cheeks when his hand hit its target, then she felt the heat from the impact as it spread across her rump. Sort of a double whammy on her fanny.

Even at this slower than usual pace, within just a few minutes, Wendy knew without looking that her backside was scarlet from cheek to cheek and from stem to stern. Just when she thought that he must be finished with her, he started in on her thighs. Oh, the sting. Wendy felt her fingers itch to flick a pillow across her rump, but she squelched the impulse. That certainly would not help the situation at all.

Finally, she felt her husband's gentle hands pull her up to sit on his lap. She pressed her tired forehead into his neck and sobbed out an apology.

"Shhh. It's all done now," Charles stroked his wife's curls back from her face and kissed away the tears on her cheeks. "You were very brave and took your punishment like a good girl. I know that parts of this assignment have been very hard for you. It's hard to be away from everything that's familiar and to try to live in a world that is so different from our own." Charles ran his index finger across Wendy's jaw and down her throat. His finger feathered across her collarbone and down into the shadow of her cleavage before he continued, "Let's put this behind us now." Wendy gave a weak smile at his inadvertent joke.

Charles' hand skimmed down his wife's leg and removed the last wisp of her panties. He reached behind her back to unhook the golden camisole and placed the other half of Wendy's outfit on top of the previously discarded skirt. Then Charles ran a lazy finger from the pulse beating at the base of his wife's throat to the rosy peak of her left breast. Wendy's nipple flowered against his fingertip, and she leaned into his touch with a soft moan.

Wendy clasped her hands around her husband's neck as he stood with her cradled in his arms. She expected him to lay her across the large bed so she was surprised when he headed toward the door. But, when he carried her into the kitchen, she knew what he had in mind.

The cool Formica felt good against the heat of Wendy's rump, and she reached out to help her husband remove his clothes. Charles gently laid his wife back against the kitchen table, his warm breath caressed her ear and he said, "Let's make some magic the old fashioned way." 

   The End

Don't forget to leave a comment telling me what you'd do first if you had magical powers to be entered in my drawing. 

Ready for more stories? Visit all the participating blogs. 

                              Anastasia Vitsky 

Cara Bristol                              Claire Colinsgrove  

Constance Masters                   Emma K. Gardner

Patty Devlin                              Renee Rose  

Rollin                                         Starla Kaye  

                        Sue Lyndon  

Six Sentence Sunday and a Free Book

 Not just Six Sentences, but a whole book! 

Yes, you read that right. It's free! Download the book from Amazon October 28-31.

Tell your friends and neighbors (if you dare!).

But seriously, please spread the word. 

Blurb: Genre: Contemporary Domestic Discipline

Daisy is very successful at work. At home, however, she has trouble remembering to follow the rules. 

Reece loves his wife and wants to guide her to better behavior and takes his duties as Head of Household seriously. When spanking doesn't get the point across, he declares a day of Underwear Probation for Daisy. 

Daisy learns that getting through the day without underwear isn't nearly as hard as learning to trust her husband and his leadership as the Head of Household. 

And here are my Six Sentences for this week: 

"You said yourself that if you'd been paying attention, you would have behaved better. I want the feel of your clothes on your bare ass to remind you all day long that I expect you to live up to my expectations of you and to behave like a lady." 

Daisy grabbed the edge of the dresser and bent herself over. "Just go ahead and spank me now. You can even use a spatula or wooden spoon. Just get it over with." 

The sly smile that crossed Reece's face made Daisy's stomach do strange things. "Oh no," he said. "I'm starting to like this idea." 

Be sure to check out all the other Six Sentence Sunday participants here

Friday, October 26, 2012

Spank-Tastic Weekend Coming Up


This is going to be a very exciting weekend. First, after all the anticipation, Spank or Treat arrives Sunday Evening. Spank or Treat is a blog hop created by the Spanking Fiction Authors. You'll have a chance to visit 12 different blogs (including this one) to read free spanking short stories from each author and you'll also have the chance to enter drawings for prizes.

What could be better? about a FREE BOOK? Starting Sunday, October 28 and running through midnight October 31, my book Underwear Probation will be available for free download on Amazon. I'd love to crack the top 100 free books so I hope you'll help me out by downloading the book and spreading the word.

It's going to be a big weekend. Can't wait!

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Writing Wednesday---Being Critiqued

Has this ever happened to you: You're getting ready to go out, whether for an evening or just to lunch, and you ask your spouse/friend/mother "how do I look?" and they say "Fine/Great/Fantastic!". Then two hours later you catch your reflection in a store window as you go by and think "Who let me leave the house looking like this?" Then you ask your spouse/friend/mother why they didn't tell you that your shirt was too short or  the back of your head looked like you'd just gotten up or  your bra didn't fit right and they say "I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

You want someone who will lovingly, but firmly, tell you "Don't leave the house yet. You've got serious VPL (visible panty line) issues."

And that's the kind of person you want for a critique partner.

If I want someone to say "Oh, I love everything you write. You're awesome" (and admit it, sometimes we all want someone to tell us that), I have just the friend to ask. I'm not even sure she reads my work, but she always gives me lots of praise.

But, if I want to improve. If I don't want to go into publication with virtual spinach between my teeth, I need a critique partner who will tell me the things that are uncomfortable.

What's worse---I have to be willing to hear it.

What makes me willing to listen?

First, I need to respect their abilities. It's like playing a sport with someone who's just enough better than you that you have to push yourself harder than you really want to.

Second, I have to believe that they are looking out for my best interest. I have heard some horror stories about people who tear apart their partner's work, mostly just to build themselves up. Yuck.

Third, I have to trust them with my work and my fragile writer's ego. I know I need to hear the hard truth, but I want it delivered with love and respect.

What about the rest of you? What are some of the hard things about being critiqued (whether as a writer or in other areas of your life)?

Any tips for how to find a good critique partner?

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Be A Pebble!

There has been a keyboard-roots movement afinger (sorry, very little sleep last night) for a Thank You Bonnie day to show appreciation to Bonnie over at My Bottom Smarts. If you don't know about Bonnie or her blog (is that possible?) take a few minutes to check it out. You'll find a gigantic list of spanking sites colored coded by subject plus a weekly brunch discussion on topics of interest to spanking enthusiasts.

Like many others I was stumbling along with a handful of page views per day until Bonnie put me on her site and then things really took off. Not only did I get more page views, but those page views were all associated with people, many of whom are now my colleagues and friends. I wonder if that would have happened otherwise?

My point, in addition to joining the Thank Bonnie Day Party, is to remind myself (and maybe you) that we can each help someone else in a small way that may blossom into something much bigger and unexpected. We may never know the affect that our small kindness has on someone else. I like to think about it like dropping a pebble in a pond and watching the ripples spread.

Years ago, my mother faced serious surgery and had a few weeks to wait for the surgery to actually happen. As you can imagine, it was stressful. It was all she thought about and talked about. It was all everyone around her thought about and talked about. One day we went shopping and the sales clerk and my mother had a lengthy chat while Mom paid for her purchases. When it was over, my mother grinned at me. "She doesn't know!" Mom said. That unknown saleswoman in a now defunct department store had no idea that her short conversation about the color of a blouse had probably been the first time in days that my mother wasn't focusing on that surgery looming in the future.

P.S. The surgery was serious, but she's fine now.

So, what is one small thing you can do today, whether online or in person, that will start a ripple affect in someone else's life? Again, I'm not talking about donating a kidney, but just being kind.

Friday, October 19, 2012

Alpha Male Blog Hop

What is your favorite thing about Alpha Heroes? Well, we authors are ready to share our favorite Alpha Males, our favorite things about them, and everything sexy and heated about those Alpha Males you can think of. *wink* Starting on Friday and ending on Oct 22nd, over 200 Authors and Bloggers will share their favorite things about those sexy men we know and love.

And while we do that, we are EACH doing a giveaway. Yep. There will be over 200 giveaways on each blog hosted by that Author or Blogger.

But that's not all....

We have THREE grand prizes. You as a reader can go to EACH blog and comment with your email address and be entered to win. Yep, you can enter over 200 times!

Now what are those prizes?

1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet
2nd Grand Prize: A $130 Amazon or B&N Gift Card
3rd Grand Prize: The following Swag Pack!

Plus, I am having my own drawing for a $10 Amazon Gift Card. Just leave a comment to enter. Please include your email address in the body of your comment so I can send your prize! 

Ok, now that we've done all that, let's talk about Alpha Males. Have you ever had a conversation with a female friend where one or both of you said something like: 
 "I think he likes me, but how can I be sure?"
"He said he'd call on Monday but didn't call until Wednesday, that's ok, right?" 
"He's not flirting with her, he's just friendly." 
If so, you weren't talking about an Alpha Male. In my opinion, when an Alpha Male is with a woman, she knows it. And he makes sure that all the other Alphas (and Betas) know it too. 

In my latest release, Underwear Probation, Daisy and Reece are a married couple who practice Domestic Discipline. When Daisy has trouble remembering the rules, Reece ups the ante and declares a day of Underwear Probation---no underwear---so that the feel of her bare butt against the fabric of her skirt will remind her of the rules. In this scene, Reece adds another condition to the day. 

Reece pulled a small box from his pocket and held it out to Daisy.

Jewelry! Relief and excitement washed over her at the same time.

“Oh Reece,” she said and started to unwrap it. She caught herself before she untied the ribbon. “May I open it?”

Reece smiled. “Good girl. Yes, you may.”

The ribbon and wrapping paper were dispatched and Daisy eagerly removed the lid from the small box. She looked up at Reece with confusion, then down at the box.
Inside were two rings made of silver. They were too small for a finger.
“What are they?” Daisy was well-versed in the uses of all jewelry. Or so she thought.
“Nipple rings.”
An excited tingle moved through Daisy’s body. Last week at the gym, she had seen a woman wearing something like this. She was one of those show-offy types who pranced around the women’s locker room naked. She did have a great body, but the rings around her nipples caught Daisy’s attention. The right amount of pressure on her nipples could make Daisy come, so the idea of nipple rings was intriguing.
Of course, she hadn’t mentioned it to Reece. What would he have thought?
Apparently he liked the idea.
She held the two rings in the palm of her hand, then picked one up and squinted at it. “What does it say?”
“Those are my initials.”
“I like to mark what’s mine.” 

Thanks for stopping by! Don't forget to visit the many other blogs participating in this hop. 
Click here. 

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Writing Wednesday--Deep POV with Monique DeVere

Hi Everyone! I'd like you all to give a warm welcome to my friend, Monique DeVere. Monique writes romance novels that are romantic and emotion filled (but no far...:) She's recently self-published for the first time (after publishing several books with traditional publishers). Monique's books are filled with the sort of emotion that makes you go "ahhh" when the hero professes his love so I've asked her to share with us about writing deep point of view which brings the emotional level of her books to steamy levels. 

Let’s Go Deep... POV, that is!

I remember many years ago—when I was a novice writer—a CP from my first online crit group suggested I go Deep Point Of View (POV).


I had no idea what she could possibly have meant and, since she didn’t offer any suggestions, I was at a total lost. It took a while for me to figure out what deep point of view was, but once I discovered this deeper way of writing, I haven’t looked back.

So, what exactly is Deep POV?
It’s a technique authors use to get into their characters' minds so that the invisible narrator completely disappears. Your stories become more like watching movies than reading novels. The reader forgets she’s reading a book! Without deep pov the reader always has a vague awareness of the narrator, even if the author tries hard to make her/himself invisible. The only way to eliminate this unseen narrator is to go deep pov.

How do you get into Deep pov?

You need to burrow your way into the depths of your character’s mind, and live through them. You need to hear their thoughts, feel their emotions, experience their dreams, and then illustrate this to your reader. When you do that, your reader merges into your story and experiences your character’s life as if it’s hers, which increases her reading pleasure immensely.

If you think of writing in first person, you’ll instantly write differently because you’ll narrow your focus to a single, specific point. What I mean is, once we think in first person we automatically become the character. When we think in the third person, we retell someone else’s tale. I’m not suggesting you write in first person in order to achieve deep pov, I’m simply encouraging you to think that way because it makes a difference to the way you write. 

Why bother?

I’ll tell you why! When you make the effort to write in deep POV, you tighten your story and draw the reader right into the book. You make her live your story. You will also rid yourself of the “show, don’t tell” problem many writers encounter. You know the sort of things I’m referring to—he/she saw, felt, heard, smelled, thought, decided...and the list goes on.

Stick to deep, active POV, and your character will never say things like, she heard the door slam—but rather, somewhere upstairs in the dark, musty house, a door slammed shut.

Here are some quick rules to ensure you are writing in Deep POV.

Your character can’t know anything s/he doesn’t feel, touch, experience, see, taste, smell, hear, sense, and think. She can’t know that her eyes sparked with temper. She can, however, know that the hero makes her want to throw something at him. She can even grab the cool, glass vase from the table next to her and debate whether she could live without the solid family heirloom. 

Another example is something like: Jessica fumbled with her keys; she thought she heard footsteps behind her. The keys fell from her nervous fingers. She bent to pick them up, and someone grabbed her from behind.

How about we go deep with something like: Jessica wrapped her coat tighter around her as she strode across the almost deserted car park at the back of her office building. Cold fog had drifted in late afternoon, dragging down the already dank weather and giving the car park an eerie atmosphere that brought out all sorts of creepy sounds and shadows. A sense of unease crept over her, encouraging Jess to up her pace. Each breath she exhaled frosted in front of her as she dug her hands in her jacket pocket and drew out her car keys.

Why hadn’t she parked closer? 

Tomorrow, sound diet advice or not, she was parking right next to the building’s front entrance. So what if she didn’t add those extra steps the diet mag promised would help her to shift the five pounds she put on over Christmas? She’d rather be safe that trek across this car park in the dark again tomorrow.  

An empty bottle clattered on the asphalt somewhere to her left, snapping her out of her thoughts and she glanced toward the sound.


 Not that she could see beyond the sparse circles of dim light floating down from the few lamp poles in the car park. When did it get so dark? Jess glanced around again. A few cars remained in the lot, scattered here and there, but hers was right at the very end where she’d parked in her effort to give herself the greatest calorie-burning walking distance.

Damn, she hated how easily she spooked. Quickening her steps, she huddled further inside her coat. Great, she’d managed to scare herself. She wanted to run, but forced her feet to keep an even pace. Then an empty can bounced on the ground behind her as if someone had kicked it. Her heart leaped 

and, without a backward glance, she took off. Jess was not a brave woman, and she saw no reason to change that character trait this instant, because there was no way in hell she imagined someone kicking that can!

Her car seemed twice as far as it had been only seconds ago.

Heavy footfalls hammered behind her and she didn’t dare look back.

Heart pounding so hard she could barely breathe, she fumbled with her keys, trying to find the fob. It had a personal alarm button that would set off her car alarm if she could only find it. In her frantic key search and mad dash to the safety of her car, her bag slipped off her shoulder, almost tripping her. She paused, reached for it, wasting crucial seconds, but she needed it. The thing was heavy enough to cause some damage if she used it as a weapon. The footfall closed in and, in a split-second decision, she left the bag and tore across the car park toward her car.

The person behind her must have picked up speed because a large man-shaped shadow overtook her, someone else’s breath besides hers frosted the air, and a blast of stale sweat stench shot up her frozen nostrils. Lungs screaming for mercy, Jess pumped her arms faster. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do if you wanted to run faster? Or was that pump your legs quicker?  Lord, help me and I promise—

A big leather-gloved hand clamped over her mouth, her keys flew out of her hand, and an enormous arm snaked around her ribcage, crushing the breath out of her as her attacker swung her off her feet.

He clutched her hard against his huge body. “Did you think you would outrun me?” His harsh laugh drilled into her eardrum. 

Do you see the difference? First of all you add a lot more words when you go Deep POV. If you compare these two examples, I hope you’ll notice how much 

Just remember, stick to only what your POV character can touch, taste, see, experience, smell, hear, feel, sense, or think. Remember also to depict each character only through another character’s pov, 

and use all of your human senses to create a reflection of real-life.

If you do this, you’ll significantly improve you writing skills.


Monique DeVere grew up on a plantation on the beautiful island of Barbados, where her childhood was all about exploring and letting her imagination run wild. She spent her teen years in the UK where she still lives with her amazing hero husband, four beautiful children, and two incredible grandkids.
Monique wrote her first novel at age fifteen but had her heart set on becoming a doctor until she discovered that raising her kids was far more desirable. Since writing had always been her favourite pastime, she naturally turned to writing as her preferred job and has had short stories published and read on radio.
Sure that medicine is her second calling, she still has a desire to heal, and has gained degrees in Homeopathy and Herbalism and currently has her eye on a Holistic Nutrition degree course.
However, her first love will always be writing. She loves to create fun, emotional romances and movie scripts. Her stories come in three categories: sweet, sensual, and sizzling Rom-Coms.
Monique loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her by visiting her website: or blog: to learn more about her and check out her other books.


Title: More Than Friends
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Theme: Friends to Lovers
Logline: She just broke the Best Friends’ Code of Honour!



She just broke the Best Friends’ Code of Honour!

What do you do when your best friend’s fella dumps her?
You get drunk, catch a cab to his place, offer to bop him on the nose, then... sleep with him?

Lily Harper should have taken her secret attraction to Justin Knight into consideration before rushing to his swanky apartment. Now she’s caught in a dilemma. Lose her best friend, or the out-of-this-world sexy guy who could be The One.

Justin fell for Lily almost from the moment he met her, but she was with someone else and he'd  just started seeing her best friend. Now Lily is available, and so is he, only, he isn’t having much luck making her see that sometimes when loyalties collide, a girl has to choose love!



“The fact of the matter is—” he nuzzled her ear “—I’m going to kiss you and every guy in this place is going to go wild with envy because I’m the lucky sod who gets to do it.”
Lily sucked in a breath, missed a step. He was making love to her, disguised as a dance. People were beginning to take an interest.  He’d made her a spectacle.
“Justin, people are watching.”
“Sweetheart, that’s nothing new, they’ve been riveted from the moment you first walked in the room.”
“Are you sweet talking me?”
He pulled back, his gaze darkening.  “Only if it’s working.” While his hand caressed her back where the dressed dipped, he stroked his other thumb against her palm.
Goose bumps raised her flesh. Oh, it was working. That and the off-the-wall chemistry between them. Every part of her craved his touch.
He turned her, dipped his head, and took the kiss he’d warned her he was going to take. It was as if everything stood still, the room, the hum of conversation, the mellow music, Lily’s heart—everything.


Purchase Links: