Sexy Surprises In Cars #CarSex #Erotica #Anthology

Sexy Surprises In Cars
6 Erotic Stories
by Giselle Renarde

Buckle up for a wild ride!

"Sexy Surprises In Cars" is a mouthwatering collection of six sizzling short stories that explore the thrill and passion of erotic adventures in vehicles. From storm chasers in the back of a rockin' van in Tornado Alley to an older couple rekindling the front-seat fumbles of their youth, these tales will take you on a sensual journey down the open road of lust.

Get in gear for a tantalizing collection that will leave you hot under the collar and yearning for more. So, rev your engines and get ready for a ride you'll never forget!

Buy Now from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BZ73FRLT?tag=dondes-20
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=H9-0EAAAQBAJ
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1366663?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id6446598931
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sexy-surprises-in-cars-giselle-renarde/1143241664
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/sexy-surprises-in-cars

Universal Book Link: https://books2read.com/InCars

In Deep with the Nanny: The Boss and the Nanny, Book 1

In Deep with the Nanny is a hot book with an extensive history.

It started life as with my sock puppet, Lexi Wood, as her taboo "Larry" series. Recently, I decided to de-taboo-ify it, make some alterations here and there (like changing Larry's name to Henry) and keep the tale going. If you've read Lexi's "Larry" stories, you will recognize a lot of this book's content, but not all of it. The final chapters are brand-spanking-new.

But that's not all!

The sequel is already written (and released on the Radish app, if you're a Radish reader) and will come out in book form next month.

We're talking about a trilogy, here, so there is more to come. I haven't written the third book yet, but now that I've told you it will exist, I'll have to hold myself accountable.

Back to this book.

In Deep with the Nanny is hot stuff, full of sex, sex scene after sex scene after sex scene featuring a nanny and her boss. If you're a fan of age gap and employer/employee romance, you'll love it!

In Deep with the Nanny

by Giselle Renarde
Series: The Boss and the Nanny
Book: 1

By day, she takes care of his kids. By night, she takes care of him. There are millions of reasons Theresa should keep her paws off single father Henry. For starters, he’s older than she is. In case that’s not enough, she’s been nanny to his boys since their mother ran off. Why does something so wrong feel so right?

Buy Now from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BXMP7J6V?tag=dondes-20
Google https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=9yCyEAAAQBAJ
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1357284?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/in-deep-with-the-nanny-giselle-renarde/1143173972
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/in-deep-with-the-nanny
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id6446096766

The Way You Wear Your Face

This post was originally written in 2015 by Giselle Renarde

A teacher once said to my mother, "There's steel in that girl."

At the time, she was right. Still, I fought back tears when my mother told me. I couldn't decide whether I should be proud. I knew it was true, but was it really so obvious?

The neighbourhood I grew up in was and is very different from the place I live now. Earlier today I was walking down the street and asking myself, "What would be the perfect soundtrack to give this area?" 

The first song that popped into my head was Pleasant Valley Sunday.

I'm trying to think of the perfect song to accompany the area I grew up in. It would be whatever music scares you shitless, really. Or just the sound of music through apartment walls and people screaming, and then a big crash and you sweating bullets and thinking, "Should I call the police?"

But of course you shouldn't because it's none of your damn business.

I can't pinpoint any event or moment that turned young Giselle into steel. It was home life coupled with where home was. My mom still lives in that same house, and when I tell people the intersection their eyes widen and they go, "Wow" or just "Yikes." They know my old street because there's a gang named for it. 

Why would anyone choose to live in such an unsavoury area?

That's a question I can't answer. I left as soon as I could. 

I left the steel there, too.

This came to mind the other week, when I was watching So You Think You Can Dance. There was a young woman on the show who had that same steel in her. She came from a rough neighbourhood, too. She faced addiction in her family.

I saw my old self in the way she wore her face: hard, inaccessible, a brick wall of a face. A face you don't want to mess with.

That was me! That was me until I moved to a neighbourhood where I can walk around any time, day or night, and not be afraid. Sure it's weird, being poor and living in an incredibly affluent neighbourhood. I'm surrounded by ego and entitlement and it gets to me sometimes, but at the end of the day entitlement isn't going to steal your jewellery from around your neck or spray bullets from a car window.

Man, it feels good to not be afraid of the place you live. I'm practically Pollyanna when I'm out in the world. I talk to strangers! I smile at everybody! I love them all! Mwah-Mwah! Kisses all 'round!

And then I take the bus back to the neighbourhood where I grew up. Suddenly the smile in my eyes feels embarrassing. It makes me vulnerable. So I shut it down. I lock Pollyanna and her Pleasant Valley Sunday in the basement until I'm back at home base. Because I don't want to be targetted. I don't want to be picked out of the lineup. That one smiling face sticks out, on the bus to my mom's house.

But I feel odd about it. I love the compassionate me. She's my favourite kind of me! I want to share her with the people who live where I used to live. They're sort of like family, in a way.

I try, but I feel uneasy. The world I grew up in seems so predatory, so violent, so ready to take you down.

Out comes the steel, but I put it on like a mask now. It's not coming from the inside out. I'm wearing it so I'll blend in.

Sometimes I feel Pollyanna kicking and screaming, but I make her wear that mask. It's for her own good.

Fertile Girls: Five Taboo Tales

The other day, I told you about a new taboo collection I put together with Lexi. You can read about it here.

Now, just a quick post to tell you FERTILE GIRLS has hit the market, brought to you by the dirty minds of me and my sock puppet nemesis.

There’s no protection against taboo lust! Fertile Girls features young women who get much more than they bargained for after giving themselves to forbidden men. Good girls, dutiful students, beautiful brats and innocent angels all submit to their most illicit desires—and soon they’ll have the bellies to prove it!

Cassandra has more than just a crush on Jack. She’s never done it before, but she’s willing to give him everything he wants. When a mysterious man appears at the door in the middle of the night, Valerie and Marissa must learn to share the stranger. Mariam is one in a long line to submit her fertile body to the commune’s leader. No matter how hard he tries, Andy can’t fend off Sissy and her pregnant friends. Professor Franco will prove it’s possible for a girl to get knocked up on the first try—and he’ll prove it in front of the entire class!

Five tales of forbidden fertility by Lexi Wood and Giselle Renarde!

EXCERPT

“Please. Let me help you feel good again.”

“Cassandra…” He tried to extract himself from her grip, but it was hopeless. “Be serious. You’re an eighteen-year-old girl. You’re practically a child.”

“But I’m not a child,” she said, and kissed his lips sweetly. “I’m a grown-up, just like you. And I want my first time to be together, Mr. Saunders. Take me to the fields. Please.”

“No,” he said. “I can’t, Cassandra. I really can’t.”

But his feet were already on the move, totally ignoring his commands to stay put. Cassandra was light as feathers, and he walked her across the expanse of lawn, then out into the fields where wildflowers bloomed and the grasses were so matted underfoot they formed a natural bed.

He laid her out in the grasses and the mosses, and examined her naked body. Her breasts seemed somewhat bigger than they had before. Arousal had inflated them like the balloons attached to his mailbox.

God, what if someone else showed up late? What if they came looking for him, and found him inside this sweet eighteen-year-old virgin? How would he ever live it down?
***

Where can you buy this masterpiece of smut?

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BX24PR26?tag=dondes-20
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1353351?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica

And in Print: http://www.amazon.com/Fertile-Girls-Five-Taboo-Tales/dp/151701803X?tag=dondes-20

Everything You Wrote Before Now Was Boring As Fuck

Written by Giselle Renarde in 2017

When I started writing erotica in 2006, one of the most popular blog topics was something like: Erotica versus Smut. What's the Difference?

I remember lots of authors elevating their work--you know, saying their erotica wasn't smut, wasn't porn. Their work was superior because... I don't know... reasons. You think I can remember random blogs I read 9 years ago? I can barely remember what I did this morning.

What I do remember is writing these defiant posts (maybe in my head, maybe on the internet) about how I had NO trouble calling my work smut. I embraced the term. It's sex writing. It's fucking on paper. It's smut!

Man, was I talking out of my ass. I had no idea what smut was, back then. No clue. Yeah, I'd written stuff for Hustler Fantasies, but my pieces were tame. I know that now, because I've turned a corner.

Early in my career, I primarily wrote short stories for inclusion in erotic anthologies. Literary erotica. Brainy erotica. Boring erotica.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up, there, Giselle. Did you just call literary erotica BORING?

Yeah. Or no. I called MY literary erotica boring, but I say that contextually, and I'm going to explain.

There's a certain kind of piece you write when you're submitting your work to a collection of literary erotica. The latitude you can take is enormous. What qualifies as erotic is really up to you--and your editor, of course. You can write diverse fiction. Sex can be anything.  Except porny. Because we're better than that.

How could that much room to move possibly be boring?

Well, it really depends what your readership is after. Why are they reading this story you wrote?

If they paid $15.95 for an erotic anthology, yeah, they're probably looking for literary erotica. They know what to expect. They want you to tickle their brains.

But if they paid $2.99 (or $0.99 or got it free on Amazon) for your weird-ass boring piece of shit short story, trust me, you're going to hear about it.

I speak from experience.

When the calls for submissions dried up in the land of literary erotica, I learned pretty fast that the story you write for an anthology isn't the story you publish as a standalone piece of smut.

The reader is buying your $2.99 or $0.99 or FREE ebooks to get off. Not to tickle their grey matter. Not for their horizons to be expanded. Not for their perspectives to shift so they can look at life in a different way. They're buying this piece of smut to get turned on. That's it.

I didn't learn the true meaning of smut until Lexi Wood came into being. I remember being scandalized when "Daddy" erotica was popular. (It still is popular, but you can't call it that anymore or your book will be banned.)  Suddenly Lexi comes into my life, and she's writing about stepdaddies fucking their barely-legal stepdaughters, and I find out that's where the money is.  The money's in your stepdaughter's tight virgin hole.

She drags me into her world of pure smut and I realize why so many readers have called my work boring. I wasn't giving them what they were looking for. Now that Lexi's led me to water, I'm drinking in all that's sweet, tangy and taboo.

...and, GOD, do I love it...