Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies

Here's the truth: I lie about what I do for a living.

I lie about it all the time. You know what I do, because I'm honest on the internet. I'm an author. I write books.

But if we were acquaintances or you met me at a party (well, first of all we wouldn't meet at a party because I don't go to parties), I'd lie to you outright.

What would I tell you I do for a living? Depends on the day. Depends on the context. Usually I pick a job I held, once upon a time, when I still punched the clock. I've had so many jobs in my life. Holy Moses, so much retail! So much admin work! Warehouse worker, military test subject, farmhand. No, I'm not lying to you. I've done all this. Oh hey, I was a mystery shopper at one point. Totally forgot about that one. I've had jobs I can't even name. I would have to describe them to you. And that would take forever. But it would be really funny.

When random people ask me what I do, I pick the most boring of my many, many past occupations. Why pick the boringest one? So people won't ask any follow-up questions. It works pretty well.

Why don't I just tell people I'm a writer?

Glad you asked.

See, I used to tell people. There's a possibility that, at one time, I was proud of my career. Not that I'm NOT proud now. I love what I do. I'm always telling family members to quit their stressful day jobs and write for a living. (The response is usually, "But you're poor." And my response to THAT is, "Poor, but happy!")

So if I love my job so much, why do I lie about it?

Well... a lot of reasons. Cameron sort of touched on one the other day when he mentioned people's perceptions of erotica authors--that we must want to jump everyone's bones. Let me tell you, there are a LOT of people I don't want to have sex with. Most people, in fact. I don't even want to talk about sex with most people. That's just not how I was raised.

Of course, this assumes the first question someone asks when you tell them you're a writer is, "What do you write?"

But it is, 90% of the time.

What reactions fall into that other 10%?

"Oh, you're a writer? Are you published?"

(Uhhh yeah or this wouldn't be much of a career)

"Oh, you're a writer? Self-published?"

(Love that condescension, buddy. Keep it up)

"Oh, you're a writer? How much money do you make?"

(Not nearly enough)

Or instead of asking any follow-up questions, people just laugh or roll their eyes. Or laugh AND roll their eyes. That's actually my favourite reaction, because then I don't have to talk anymore.

The worst, for me, is when people have endless questions about my work. This might be hard for you to believe, since I bang on about every aspect of my existence here and elsewhere online, but in real life I don't like talking about myself at all.

Being a writer seems interesting. That's why people ask. If I weren't a writer, I'd probably think this was the coolest career EVAH. But I do it every day, so to me it's just a job. Not saying I don't love it. I wouldn't trade this life for anything. But I'm not the kind of author who wants to talk about process. I'd rather just do it.

I talked to my sister about all this stuff a few months ago and she said to me, "If those are all the things you DON'T want people asking when you say you're a writer, how DO you want them to react?"

That's just it: I don't know. I guess I'd want them to be like, "Oh, you're a writer? That's interesting. I have 400 chickens and now I'm going to tell you all their names..."

But that almost never happens.

So I lie.

Although, truth be told, when I tell people I have some boring job, they usual say, "That's weird. You seem like you'd have some kind of creative career... like a writer or something."

The Crisis in Midlife

This post was written in 2018

I'll tell you how I've been feeling lately.

I've been feeling like every worthwhile thing I'm ever going to do in my life--everything good, everything useful, everything productive--I've already done. The best is behind me. I'm just waiting out my sentence.

Last month, my mother told me I'm not a spring chicken anymore. That threw me for a loop. Isn't your mother supposed to think of you as a child for always? But when I told my girlfriend, she said, "Yeah, well you're middle aged."

Middle aged?

My ex, who (as you know) was much older than me, used to say that every time he looked in the mirror, he expected to see his 18-year-old self. And instead he saw an old man. It was jarring.

I didn't get that when I was 19.

I get it now.

The thing I really didn't get is that a midlife crisis is... well... a crisis. Crisis in the sense of crisis counseling, crisis lines, crisis intervention. The term always made me think of sports cars and 22-year-old girlfriends, but there's more to the story. Holy Mother of God, is there more to this story.

There's a reason you try to recapture your lost youth: that's when you accomplished everything of value. Or, at least, that's when I did. Or, at least, that's how I feel. But you're talking to someone who peaked in high school. Your mileage may vary.

I'm sure there are ways to feel useful again. Volunteer work and such. But volunteer work is just one more of those things I did when I was younger. I worked in the domestic violence sector for years, and I burned out so hard I can't even tell you. I've volunteered my ass all over this city, and most organizations (the big box charities in particular) have left me disillusioned at best and disgusted at worst.

In a perfect world, I would feel fulfilled by my work.  So I've devoted a lot of my time and energy to projects I felt would be helpful to others. The thing is, in order for your book to help anyone, someone in the world has to... read it. And when you get to the point where you write something super-meaningful and then you literally can't even give it away for free, it becomes pretty clear that the work isn't going to dig you out of this hole.

Now I get why people go back to what gave them pleasure as children, as youths. There's a simple joy to childhood that's so hard to recapture decades later.  The lights dim over time. The world is less shiny and bright.

Maybe I've been watching too many YouTube videos about nihilism and existential angst, but lately I've been wondering if I should even bother trying to do anything of value, if anything actually has innate value anyway, or if we're all just marking time.

I remember having fantasies, when I was young. Fantasies about all the exciting things I would do in the future. I would imagine scenarios in detail. It was really energizing. Made me want to get up in the morning and work toward my goals.

Now? In midlife, or whatever this is?

I don't have fantasies anymore.

How do you get through life when it seems like your best days are behind you?

I'm taking it one day at a time.

Every Book Needs Readers

Last year, I talked about filling The Well of Creativity with every kind of media I can get my face on.

At that time, I viewed myself as a dry well. I've shifted a touch, to view myself as a fallow field. A healthier outlook, I hope.

We all need to rest once in a while. I used to be obsessed with the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical Aspects of Love. One of the first lines in the show is: "I'm resting again--that's what actresses say when they're not in a play." Am I resting because I'm not writing? Or am I not writing because I'm resting? Either way, I'm not in a play.

Most writers are readers first. Reading is important to fill The Well. Watching movies, TV, plays, listening to audiobooks and Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals--it all helps us to be better writers. But I covered that last time.

I'm revisiting the importance of reading (and watching and listening) because a new thought occurred to me the other day, another reason it's so important to be a voracious consumer of media:

Every Book Needs Readers

Before, I was thinking about the benefits of reading to me, as a creative writer and human person. Now, I'm thinking about the benefits of reading to the author of that book, and even to the book itself.

One of the reasons my will to write has dwindled is that there are far fewer eyes on my words than there used to be. Or at least it feels that way. Every time a reader picks up a story I wrote, a novel or an anthology or short, that's huge for me. Every sale is a big deal, but it's not even about the sale. I put so much time and energy, so much of myself, into everything I write. I want eyes on those words.

So now, every time I read a book, I imagine how pleased the author must be that their words are being read. Kind of silly, I know. They're probably so successful that one more set of eyes makes no difference to them. But maybe readers think that about me. After all, I'm a full-time writer. I've been doing this job for more than a decade. Maybe readers consider me established.

I hope they know how much it means to me when they consume my words. Every book I write needs readers. If my words aren't read, what's the point in writing them?

I used to think of reading as part of my ongoing author education. And it is. But lately, I've considered it more of an imperative. I'm particularly drawn toward books that are out of print, stories that aren't online, aren't available on Amazon, aren't ebooks. Yellowed paperbacks that will cease to exist once these few copies have come apart. They're on their last legs.

Every book needs readers. Doesn't matter what you're reading, as long as you're reading. But, for me, those yellowed finds are the ones I want to read... before they disappear forever. 

I Am My Grandmother's Legacy

This post was written in 2018.

My grandmother died.

The past month has gone by in a haze of hospital visits as my grandmother--my favourite of all the humans--took a turn for the worse. One week ago, she was taken off food and water. I got up the next morning and tried to wash some dishes before leaving for the hospital. She wasn't dead yet, but that's when it really hit me: she would be, in the next few days. I had to come to terms with losing her.

I cried into my dishwater. I sobbed so hard I thought I was going to throw up. After that, I realized I'd started speaking about her in the past tense. Technically, she was still alive, but barely. Just barely.

We were there at her bedside when she took her final breath: all of her many daughters and me.

I'd never watched someone die before. A few of my aunts had warned me about the horrific expressions they'd seen on the faces of loved ones. Or unsettling sounds they'd made.  As my grandmother's breath slowed, my aunts wanted me to be prepared for the things they'd found disturbing about death.

But nothing like that happened when my grandmother died.

She just stopped breathing. That's it. Her breath slowed down, and then it stopped. She slipped away. No strange expressions or noises.  It was such a peaceful passing. I'm eternally grateful that I got to be there for it.

After she'd died, one of my aunts asked, "What was Mummy's legacy?"

Her family.  Everyone agreed about that.  She was proud of her accomplishments and her work, but the one thing that lives on now that she's gone is this big family she produced.

In that moment, when my aunts and I talked about legacies, I stopped feeling like a worthless person with a useless career. I am my grandmother's legacy. There are no other storytellers in my family.  If I don't preserve the stories she told me--of her life, of her parents, of her grandparents--who will? Her generation is gone. I must preserve their memory.

I matter. I mattered to her. I'm not worthless. She saw my value.

My grandmother believed in me, even when I didn't.  She believed my work was important, even when I claimed I was just in it for a quick buck. She knew there were easier ways to pay the rent, and she was right about that.

She was proud that her grandchild grew up to become a writer. In my family, we're not showy with the emotions. We don't go around saying "I love you" or "I'm proud of you." In my entire life, my mother has never said those things to me. I've never said them to her.

But my grandma told me she was proud of my writing career. She told me that all the time. She said "I love you" to me only once, and I was so uncomfortable with the bigness of the emotion that my response was: "Shut up! Why are you saying that?"

I never returned the sentiment until after she died.  As the colour drained from her skin, I petted her cheek and said, "I love you, Grandma." 

Maybe I didn't say it in words while she was alive, but I know she knew how I felt. I showed her by spending time with her. Lots of time. That wasn't solely for her benefit. She was truly my favourite person on the planet. I'm so thankful for the nearly 40 years we had together.

I will miss her forever, but every time I start feeling worthless, I'll be able to remind myself I have stories to tell. I have value. I am my grandmother's legacy.

My grandmother was always an avid reader--she'd read the dictionary if there was nothing else around--and a lifelong library user. If you've been following my many posts about my grandmother's life and you feel inclined to commemorate her death, I encourage readers to make a donation in her memory to your local public library system. I think she'd like the idea that there were more books and services available to more people because of her.

Heartfelt thanks for allowing me to share our stories with you.
Giselle

Tarot Through the Storm: Daily Reflections During Relationship Drama #TarotJournal

Tarot Through the Storm
Daily Reflections During Relationship Drama
by Giselle Renarde
Word Count: 11,600
ISBN: 9798224157624

Discover the Power of Tarot in the Midst of Heartache and Transformation

When life throws you into the depths of uncertainty, where do you turn for guidance and solace? For Giselle, the wisdom of tarot illuminated the path through a tumultuous period of life.

In Tarot Through the Storm, journey through daily tarot reflections that provided clarity, comfort, and courage during a separated partner's divorce. As assets were divided, a house was sold, and emotions ran high, the daily practice of drawing a tarot card offered profound insights.

This compelling journal isn't just a narrative of personal experience; it's a powerful testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the transformative power of tarot practice. For Giselle, daily draws offered an opportunity for insightful interpretations and personal reflection. Giselle's honest and heartfelt entries are sure to resonate with anyone navigating similar life challenges.

Whether you're a seasoned tarot reader or new to the cards, this book will inspire you to find your own path of healing and transformation. Dive into a world where every card tells a story and every story brings you closer to your own truth.

Join the author on this intimate and enlightening journey, and let the cards guide you through your own life's storms.

Buy Now from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D92LX4YD?tag=dondes-20
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=GO0SEQAAQBAJ

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/tarot-through-the-storm-daily-reflections-during/id6523414172
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/tarot-through-the-storm-giselle-renarde/1145971306
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/tarot-through-the-storm-daily-reflections-during-relationship-drama

Everand: https://www.everand.com/book/748662797/Tarot-Through-the-Storm-Daily-Reflections-During-Relationship-Drama
Fable: https://fable.co/book/x-9798224157624

Find even more retailers with the Universal Book Link: https://books2read.com/TarotThroughTheStorm

There's also a paperback version: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/tarot-through-the-storm-giselle-renarde/1145971306?ean=9798227789679

Plus, there's a digitally-narrated audiobook: https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEAyVFAUcM

Rest in Blisse, Victoria

Earlier in the week, I wrote this post for my music blog, but I'm putting it here, too, because I want to make it available to as many eyes as possible:  

I found out via social media that my fellow erotica author Victoria Blisse died this week. I'm not sure how many readers of my lil music blog here are also connoisseurs of fine smut, but anyone who's been around the erotic fiction community for some time has probably encountered Victoria, and knows what a kick-ass, lovely person she was. 

Victoria Blisse used to organize an event called Smut by the Sea, and I'd ship Giselle merch over to her in England to give away, plus contributors' copies of erotic anthologies for her Erotic Tombola. That's how I learned what a Tombola was--we don't have them here in Canada.

Along with Lucy Felthouse, Victoria was co-editor of a number of anthologies that featured my work (including one that was called Smut by the Sea, though I think it's off the market now). I had plenty of interaction with her back then, though not so much recently, and that makes me incredibly sad. She just kept growing into an even cooler person, and I missed out on that for absolutely no reason. I started working independently more and more, and I lost track of a lot of the erotica writers who used to be part of my daily life.

In losing Victoria, we've all lost someone incredibly special. I'm not looking to put a bright note on this post, because I am so very saddened by our loss, but hopefully I'll be able to persuade myself to reach out to the many, many friends from the erotica community that I've wandered away from in recent years. I used to have so many writer friends, and now I have so few. 

You were a sparkling gem, Victoria, and your work lives on even now that you're gone. I hope you're smutting it up by the sea, in the afterlife. Rest in Blisse.  

 

Brand New Sexy Surprises: 6 Erotic Stories

I'm so pleased to bring you a new book for the New Year. What's so special about this (31st!) volume in my Sexy Surprises series? Brand New Sexy Surprises contains ALL NEW FICTION from yours truly. That's right: we've got 100% never-before-published short stories in this collection, so it's guaranteed you have never read any of these erotic tales.

Are you excited?

I hope so, because I sure am!

Brand New Sexy Surprises
6 Erotic Stories
by Giselle Renarde
Series: Sexy Surprises
Volume 31
Word Count: 12,000
ISBN: 9798224434947

Discover a world of passion with "Brand New Sexy Surprises," a captivating collection of never-before-published stories by award-winning queer Canadian author Giselle Renarde. In this anthology, Giselle weaves tales that delve into the complexities of desire, love, and relationships.

Explore the intoxicating dynamics of roommates-turned-lovers, experience the sensual exploration of a middle-aged couple inviting an old friend into the bedroom, and lose yourself in the spicy fantasies of a widow rediscovering the pleasures of her own lust. Each story is a unique and evocative expedition into the human heart, featuring nostalgic reminiscences, complicated emotions, and so much more.

Whether you're a devoted fan or a newcomer to Giselle's work, indulge in the allure of original tales that celebrate the diverse facets of queer love and desire.

"Brand New Sexy Surprises" is a testament to Renarde's literary prowess and a must-read for anyone seeking fresh, authentic, and beautifully crafted stories that push the boundaries of romance.

Buy Now from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CRJ9L769?tag=dondes-20
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1502619?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=tnLsEAAAQBAJ

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/brand-new-sexy-surprises/id6475358733
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/book/1144557281
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/brand-new-sexy-surprises

Read at Everand: https://www.everand.com/book/696404291/Brand-New-Sexy-Surprises-Sexy-Surprises-31

Find more retailers with the Universal Book Link: https://books2read.com/BrandNew

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

I hate myself a bit right now...

...and here's why:

I think I've been unconsciously downplaying the queer content in my books recently. That's not cool, and thus the self-hatred. But I know why I've been doing it, even if I've been doing it without meaning to do it. I keep getting subtle whispers in my ear that romance readers don't like bisexual women. Bad, bad, yucky, uncomfortable!

I've let those whispers get to me and it's impacted the way I market my books--but not anymore, baby! I'm here, I'm queer and you're used to it, but from now on I'll make a concerted effort to show the reading public my books are queer too.

If some readers don't like bisexual women, queer women, trans women, lesbian women or genderfucked assholes like me, they'd better steer clear of my writing. The end.

Cougar's Eve ebook cover

After that sickly sweet introduction, let me say: Cougar's Eve is a NYE novella about two middle-aged women attending a wild cougar party at a luxury resort (though one is very reluctant and there is some mild trickery involved in getting her there). Lori's all for this hooking-up-with-younger-men scene. Trish hasn't been with a man since her husband left her, and that was forever ago.

Maybe Trish will meet a special young man who will turn her world upside-down. Or maybe it'll be a special young woman. Or maybe it'll be two guys and Trish will be upside-down. Or maybe she'll have one guy behind her and a gorgeous girl working her front...

I'll leave it to your imagination.

Just kidding! Here are seven paragraphs of Trish being seduced by Raye the receptionist. 

Avert your eyes if you don't like bisexual women...

Spreading her shirt wide open, Raye traced her fingertips across Trish’s bare skin. Trish hadn’t been touched this way in so many years… so many, many, many years.

“This is a pretty bra,” Raye said, gently touching the borders. “Simple cream-coloured lace. It’s classic.”

“Thank you,” Trish replied.

“Can I take it off?”

“What?”

With a sly smile, Raye said, “I want to look at your breasts. I want to see them naked.”

A blast of heat spread across Trish’s skin, but she said nothing.

***

Cougar's Eve print cover

Buy Now from Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1300126?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BQZHBKN1?tag=dondes-20
Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=zrajEAAAQBAJ

Apple: https://books.apple.com/ca/book/cougars-eve/id6445223880
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/cougar-s-eve-4
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cougars-eve-giselle-renarde/1120856102

Find More Retailers with the Universal Book Link https://books2read.com/CougarsEve

This post was originally published December 6th, 2014

Delta's Diary: Big-City Butch in a Small Town #LesbianDiaries #ButchFemme #LesRom #LesFic

Last year, my partner bought a house in a small town. I've been splitting my time between city and country since then.

The first thing I read in this small town's local paper was homophobic rhetoric. The last thing I read in this small town's local paper (and I'm talking two minutes ago, right before I started typing this post) was homophobic rhetoric.

Living in a big city for forty years could not and did not prepare me for life as a small-town queer.

That's probably why I set my latest Lesbian Diaries book in (you guessed it) a small town. When I sat down to start Delta's Diary, I didn't anticipate writing a book about a character finding community in her small town. I remember finishing the first draft and kind of feeling irritable because, although Delta was experiencing some of the same mental health shit I continue to experience, she didn't face the homophobia I felt and still feel confronted by.

Maybe I want to take care of my characters. It's bad enough, what we queers have to endure in the real world. Maybe I wanted my dear Delta to get off a little lighter.

Not that she gets off light. She's had a rough life, and it gets only marginally easier throughout the book.  Her personality is based very much on mine. In fact, the scene where she's walking around town screaming at nobody is based on a true story. I was having a rough night soon after we moved here, and... well, you can read the book to find out more. 

By the way, I did not actually eat the Doritos.

Anyway, I feel like I've swallowed a rock. That's what small-town homophobia does to my body. 

Sometimes I write books.

Read Delta's Diary today. Consider this my personal invitation to you. I want you to read this book.

Delta's Diary
The Lesbian Diaries, Book 11
by Giselle Renarde

Can a big-city butch find community in a small town?

Delta's sunk about as far as she can go when she moves in with her brother. He's in the same boat: his wife just left him and he's down in the dumps. They don't do much to cheer each other up, but at least co-existence is peaceful.

When Delta crashes the town's Friday Night Queer Club, the girl she's got the hots for is not the one who wants her back. How she ends up with a girlfriend she doesn't even like is anyone's guess, but that's not the only thing ruining her chances with the femme of her dreams. Her crush claims to be straight, and she doesn't exactly ingratiate herself by doubting Melanie's word.

Even when you've hit rock bottom, you can always sink lower. If there's one thing Delta knows how to do, it's burn bridges.

How will Delta untangle the mess she's created when she's running on nothing but street-smarts and grit?

Buy the ebook from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BMBDH7X3?tag=dondes-20
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/delta-s-diary
Apple: https://books.apple.com/ca/book/deltas-diary/id6444419895

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=TNibEAAAQBAJ
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1178481?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica

Get the paperback here: https://www.amazon.com/Deltas-Lesbian-Diaries-Giselle-Renarde/dp/B0BMKCXW9W

Universal Book Link for more retailers: https://books2read.com/DeltasDiary

The Fantasy of Romance

Note: originally posted in 2014

Here's something you should never admit when you work in this industry: I'm not a romantic.

But that's my truth.  I soured on romance early in life because I never felt represented in Disney-esque storylines.  I'm queer and I'm weird.  I was never a princess and I never wanted a prince.  Romance as a genre did not speak to me.

Apart from being queer and not identifying with heteromance (which struck me as prescriptive and ridiculous in terms of what's considered acceptable and appropriate behaviour in establishing a relationship), I also found the idea of the happy-ever-after a little... well, unrealistic.  Fantastic, in other words.

Romance is a fantasy.

A couple months ago, there was a hashtag on Twitter that had something to do with romance readers' guilty confessions.  I noticed a lot of readers tweeting that they didn't care how a story resolved itself so long as the lovers lived happily ever after.  They didn't care if the romance was realistic.  They just wanted to feel warm and fuzzy at the end.

Of course, not everybody following the conversation agreed.  Some readers want the plot to resonate, or at least to... you know, make sense.  For myself, I'd rather watch everything fall apart.  That's reality.  I'd rather see real, deep troubles between people--troubles that aren't easily or ever fixed.

But the fantasy of romance must have wriggled its way into my writing brain. I happened to be writing a fluffy bit of erotica, at the time, called "Seducing the Sexy Celebrity Chef"--now renames "Chef's Kiss."  I intended it as a hardcore romp--a woman's sexual fantasy of getting it on with a domineering TV chef. 

But as I wrote my Chef story, its intention began to morph.  I was trying to write a story that was all about sex, and suddenly it was infusing itself with romance.  Suddenly, my famous chef wanted even more than my star-struck woman.

I tried editing out all that fantastic romance, even as I wrote it.  For some reason, I couldn't stop myself.  Romance overpowered me.  When I handed the manuscript over to my girlfriend, who is also my contract editor, I asked her, "Is this too far from reality?"  I really hoped she'd tell me it was.  I hoped she'd advise me to change the story and remove some of that gushy, far-from-life romance.

But she didn't.  She liked it.

What is it that's so satisfying about the fantasy of romance?  Even as I reread that story and told myself, "This would never happen--not in a million years!" I couldn't change it.  Maybe even the most jaded among us maintain the fantasy of an easy love, an easy romance, an easy life.

That's not reality.  Maybe that's why we (yes, even the cynics and the pessimists) need a fictional shot of happy every once in a while.

Hugs,
Giselle

Stacy's Dad Has Got It Going On #OMYW #NewAdult #BestFriendsFather

I wrote Stacy's Dad Has Got It Going On one summer, thinking I'd put together a nice little fluffy sex romp about a geek girl and her roommate's father. And, in essence, I suppose that's what it ended up being, plot-wise, but I didn't expect the characters to take such firm hold. I didn't expect them to flesh out quite so fully. But they were insistent.

After I'd written this book, I realized it wasn't just for the nerdy girls who want to express themselves sexually in a non-Girls Gone Wild sort of way (like me) but it was also very much for those who grew up with addiction in their households (...like me).

There's something that stays with you all your life if you were raised by a parent or guardian with an addiction. It's a quality of trepidation, an immediate mistrust not only of people but of the potential impact of all substances. In this book, Savannah, the girl who falls for her roommate's dad, is all about clean living, and probably more out of fear of what alcohol and other things might do to her... or make her do.

But she really resents the assumptions other people make about her based on her choice not to drink or do drugs--people ask her to her face if she's a recovering alcoholic, or if she's a religious nut. She's been so focused on school and high achievements that she hasn't given much thought to guys, even though GOD does she love to get laid when the opportunity arises.

Against all odds, and much to my bewildered satisfaction, this book blossoms into a romance when Savannah, who is so like me in so many ways, finds someone who understands the quirks leftover from childhood are still a driving force of her life and personality. Let's just say it surprised me, and I always love it when a book can do that.

(This blog post was originally written when the first edition of Stacy's Dad came out in 2011.)
 

Stacy's Dad Has Got It Going On
By Giselle Renarde

When Stacy's dad shows up unannounced at her apartment, her roommate Savannah is smitten. Eric's career in humanitarian relief makes him college-girl catnip, and his good looks and hot body only sweeten the deal.

Eric doesn’t often visit, but after catching his wife with a younger man he doesn’t know where to turn for consolation. Stacy does her best to cheer him up, but no amount of daughterly compassion is going to heal his bruised ego. He needs a special woman to lick his wounds.

Too bad nobody warned Savannah that Eric would bring more baggage than she'd bargained for...

Excerpt:

“I’m not going to the hospital.”

“Yes you are,” Eric replied simply. But instead of pulling off his pajama pants and pulling on his jeans, he collapsed beside her on the couch. “Just give me five more minutes.”

She sighed and reached again for the remote, this time with more care. “See?” she said, turning down the volume. “As long as I don’t move too quickly, I’m fine. I’ll just put another round of ice on my ankle and in the morning I’ll be healed.”

Eric’s eyes popped wide open at the mention of ice. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.” Pressing both hands down on the couch, he pushed himself up and hobbled to the kitchen. He sighed as he opened the freezer. The cold seemed to revive him. He brought the tray out and snapped it back and forth before dumping the ice into a metal mixing bowl. Even before leaving the kitchen, he picked up one piece and traced it along the base of his jaw and down his neck. “That’s better,” he said. “Nothing like ice dripping down your neck to wake a guy up.”

“If you say so.” Savannah chuckled. “That’s never been my game.”

He brought the ice to the TV room and sat on the coffee table before placing the metal bowl on her ankle. She flinched, but she didn’t move her foot away. Anything so unnerving must be a help.

“How does that feel?” Eric teased.

“Like hell.”

He moved the bowl from her ankle and set it on top of a magazine. From it, he swiped a single cube. Savannah cringed as she watched it coming for her, but when the ice made contact with her skin, she was surprised it wasn’t painfully cold. If anything, it tickled.

“How about this?” Eric asked, tracing the cube around her slightly swollen ankle. “How does this feel?”

The ice melted quickly between his fingers and her flesh. Droplets of water trickled down her foot and dripped from her heel onto the throw pillow underneath.

“Good,” she said. To her surprise, it was true. “It feels really good, actually.”

“What if I do this?” Eric asked, picking up a fresh cube and tracing it up the inside of her calf. Shifting her robe aside, he circled it around her knee before drawing it slowing up her thigh. The cold made her tremble now. She felt its effects more between her legs than she had against her ankle. A whole line of water droplets tumbled down her inner thigh, soaking the terrycloth beneath her. She knew where he was going with this, and she wanted to show him she was on board.

Savannah untied her belt and let her robe fall open at the front. Her breasts were warm and soft with sleep. “Do my tits,” she bid. “With the ice. Make them hard.”

A churlish grin bled upon Eric’s pink lips. “You want me to?”

Buy your copy now from Amazon ebook: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B1N1942J?tag=dondes-20
Hardcover: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B1B7CRB7?tag=dondes-20

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1147896?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=WVxwEAAAQBAJ
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/stacy-s-dad-has-got-it-going-on-3

Chapters Indigo: https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/stacys-dad-has-got-it/9781005478988-item.html

And here is the Universal Book Link for more retailers: http://books2read.com/StacysDad

#WeddingHeat Pretty Bride #Lesbian #Cousins

Where to begin, where to begin?  

Well, PRETTY BRIDE, which was formerly titled "Wedding Heat: Pretty Cousin" is now available.  I guess it's best to start with the basics.  

Pretty Bride is the fourth story in the Wedding Heat series, but it was actually the FIRST story that came to mind when I conceptualized this series.

Because... okay, well... a lot of people have crushes on their cousins.

Right?

I definitely have one cousin I was a little sweet on at one point in life--not that I would ever have acted on it, and she's straight anyway, but fantasy is a huge driving factor in erotica.  I wouldn't surrender to temptation the way Vanessa and Maggie, but I sure as hell enjoyed writing about it!

The last thing I want to mention before sharing the blurb and an excerpt from PRETTY BRIDE is that, because this title falls into the "pseudo-incest" category (the girls are not blood relatives), it will not be available from ALL the usual vendors.  Most e-tailers don't allow this sort of content on their sites.  You can check out a preliminary list at the end of this post.

Pretty Bride

Wedding Heat, Book 4

by Giselle Renarde

Forget the happy couple—it’s the guests that make this wedding sizzle!

Vanessa’s had a crush on her cousin Maggie since before she knew what love was. They were inseparable growing up—that is, until Vanessa came out as lesbian. That confession sparked a rift between the girls that stretched out more than ten years.

Two days before her wedding, Maggie meets up with Vanessa for the first time in years. Will Vanessa give in to her lust and try to seduce Maggie so close to the wedding? Or will Maggie give Vanessa no choice?

EXCERPT:

“I can’t.”

Vanessa spoke so softly she could barely hear her own voice.  Shaking her head, she let her gaze wander the length of Maggie’s naked flesh.  God, what a body!  Maggie’s thighs were like cream, two milky paths culminating in pinkness hidden beyond a trim strip of hair.

“I can’t, Mags, I just can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Maggie whined, reaching for the soap dish indented in the shower wall and pulling herself to standing. She opened the tiny bottle of shower gel and drizzled it across her breasts.  “You can’t wash me?  You can’t just wash me?”

The way Maggie said that word, wash, made it seem like not such a big deal.  Still, Vanessa fought with herself: should she let go and abandon her good sense, or obey moral law and fight her urges and Maggie’s advances?

Maggie didn’t give her much choice.  Grabbing Vanessa’s sopping shirtsleeves, the girl pulled her in for a kiss. She didn’t even see it coming.  Her mind was clouded, hazy, lost in the heady sensation of Maggie’s tongue whipping around her mouth.

Moaning, Maggie pressed her big breasts against Vanessa’s front.  They writhed together under the shower’s hot flow as the mango-scented body wash began to froth between them.  In the midst of their frenzy Vanessa felt the tiny bubbles working their way through her undershirt and popping against her nipples.  The sensation defied description.  All she wanted was more.

“You’re such a good kisser!” Maggie cried as Vanessa licked her wet neck.  “Oh god, that’s amazing!”

Vanessa hesitated for an instant, assuring herself that Maggie wasn’t really her cousin, and then ran her hands across the supple length of the girl’s waiting flesh, tracing the perimeter, exploring all the boundaries.  “I want to lick your pussy so bad, Mags.”

“Do it.”  Maggie’s voice was tight and high, like she was so desperate for this to happen she could barely speak.  “Do it now!” 

Wedding Heat: Pretty Cousin is available from...
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1143032?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=tH1rEAAAQBAJ
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JWUY104?tag=dondes-20

#Lesbians Lick Butt: Kinky Fetish #Erotica

Another weekend, another smutbook. This one's for all you lovely readers out there who crave a good lesbian butt-licking session.

Lesbians eating ass is the name of the game.

Lesbians Lick Butt is the name of the book.

This delightful compilation contains three of your favourite lesbian ass-licking classics: Anal Angel, Blowing Smoke, and Elementary, My Dear Kathryn.

The reason I keep putting out lesbian rimming shorts is simple: so many residents of the internet land on my blog after searching for lesbian anilingus stories. Give the people what they want, right?

You want women running their tongues over other girls' assholes? You got it!

Buy it as an ebook, or buy it in print.

The paperback contains a bunch of bonus material, so I highly recommend buying it if you're into paper books. (I am. I still don't read ebooks. I do all my reading on paper.)

Remember last month when Lesbian Golden Showers came out? If you don't remember, I'll mention right now that Lesbian Golden Showers is 100% new material. Three watersports stories, all brand new, all written exclusively for that collection.

Anyway, Lesbian Golden Showers wasn't quite long enough to publish in print. Same goes for Lesbians Lick Butt. But put them together and you've got a book!

What I'm trying to say, here, is that the paperback version of Lesbians Lick Butt contains the entire Lesbian Golden Showers collection as well! Buy it for yourself. Share it with your friends. Or let it wither on the shelf, die on the vine, yellow and crumble with disuse. The choice is yours.

So. Links.

Get the paperback here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1543215300

Get the ebook from Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1142104?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09XTYRFDQ?tag=dondes-20
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=hAxqEAAAQBAJ

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lesbians-lick-butt-giselle-renarde/1141357009
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/lesbians-lick-butt

Remember, only the paperback contains Lesbian Golden Showers as a bonus. The ebook version is pure butt-licking bliss.

If you're looking for butt-licking lesbians, you've come to the right place! Clarice has a problem only an Anal Angel can resolve. A vegan baker fulfils Marissa's smokiest fantasies. Melanie and her domme humiliate an old friend during a school reunion. These girls are ready to lick butt and take names. Are you ready to join them?

Why Are There Boobs On My Gay Erotica?

I'm not exactly known for writing gay erotica.  Lesbian erotica? Yes. Bi and menage? Yes. Trans fiction?  Super-yes.

But gay erotica?  Umm... no, not really.

So readers might wonder if I'm a little confused when they see the cover of Wedding Heat: Skinny Dipping, and then read the blurb and its classification as gay erotic romance.

To be clear, Wedding Heat: Skinny Dipping IS gay erotic romance.  Why is there a woman on the cover?  Well, see... when, I conceived Wedding Heat I decided that every cover should have the same base image so it would be really easy for readers to identify books in the series.

Will I be kicking myself for that decision?  Will readers be kicking me?  (Do you want to kick me right now?)

Only time will tell.

While we're waiting, want to read the blurb and excerpt from Wedding Heat, Book 3: Skinny Dipping?

Forget the happy couple—it’s the guests that make this wedding sizzle!

Joey’s a virgin.  That’s not the sort of thing he’d admit to most people, but when he meets Greg at his cousin Maggie’s luxury woodland wedding retreat, he finds himself freely admitting to this embarrassing quality.  Joey and Greg hit it off right away, teasing and taunting each other, but when Greg casually mentions that he’s gay, Joey isn’t sure how to react… not until a bunch of the guys strip naked for midnight skinny dipping in the man-made lake.  Something tells Joey he won’t be a virgin for long!

Excerpt:

“What about you?” Greg asked.  “You ever knocked a girl up?”

“Yeah right.”  They very idea made Joey laugh.  “Not even close.”

“Ahh, you’re a virgin,” Greg said, understandingly, not goading or teasing.

“Yeah.”  Joey would have lied to anybody else, but there was something about Greg, maybe just the fact that he was gay, that made it easy to be honest.  “Are you?”

“What do you think?”

Something touched Joey’s dick underwater, and he jumped, squealing like a little kid.  “Oh my god, what was that?”

“My hand, you dumb fuck.”  Greg shook his head, and Joey laughed, feeling like a total idiot.  “No wonder you’re still a virgin.”

This time when Greg found his cock underwater, Joey didn’t squeal or squirm.  He turned to face Greg, holding the guy’s shoulder to steady himself.  When Greg wrapped a fist around the base of his shaft, his thighs and ass muscles tensed.  His breath staggered now, rattling in his chest before bursting past his lips.

“I’m not really…”  Joey stopped himself, trying to figure out what he wanted to say.  “I mean, it’s not every day I’m attracted to someone.  I’m not like that.”

The way Greg nodded, it seemed like he understood better than Joey did.  God, it felt good the way Greg stroked his dick—firm, hard, forceful but not rough.  Rough would come later.  Joey always liked to work up to the ultimate sensation.

“I’ve got your cock,” Greg said.  “Don’t you want to touch mine?”
***

There are lots of places you can buy Skinny Dipping RIGHT NOW, like:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09XR2C3DL?tag=dondes-20
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1141936?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=NMFpEAAAQBAJ

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/skinny-dipping-giselle-renarde/1141354595
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/skinny-dipping-16

Find more retailers with the Universal Book Link: http://books2read.com/WeddingHeat3

Wedding Heat Is HERE! (What is #WeddingHeat?)

This week, I republished the first story in my Wedding Heat series, so I'm sharing the blog post I wrote about it when it first came out ten years ago: 

What is Wedding Heat? Basically, I couldn't find anything good on TV and I thought, "Hmm... maybe there are OTHER people out there who can't find anything good on TV either... so maybe I'll write a series of short stories to fill the gap."

So that's what I did.

Wedding Heat is about more than just two people getting hitched.  My tagline for the series is: Forget the happy couple--it’s the guests that make this wedding sizzle!  The series centres around the wedding weekend for Maggie and Ed (at a luxury woodland retreat, no less!), but each story focuses on different guests. It was important to me to establish the series in that way, because I wanted Wedding Heat to be pansexual and incorporate a characters with varied gender identities as well as sexualities.

That said, the first story in the series (One in the Hand) is the epitome of vanilla.  Well, sort of.  Its focus is on Cora and Dan, who are the bride's aunt and uncle.  I'm tempted to call them an "older couple" except that... well, "older" is relative, right?  Anyway, they're in their 50's and there's some naughtiness involving their car.  (Look at that: they're, their, and there all in the same sentence. Sorry, that was a grammar geek intrusion. LOL)

Anyway, in this story we also meet Cora and Dan's twenty-something kids, who pop up in stories of their own.  Later in the series, son Joey might just might have his first sexual encounter while skinny dipping with some dudes, and Vanessa might just act on her crush on the bride.  Wait and see!

The stage is set. One in the Hand is now available, and you can buy it from lots of retailers. 

Buy Now from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09WRV5FP6?tag=dondes-20
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1139676?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=bW9mEAAAQBAJ

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-in-the-hand-giselle-renarde/1141307724
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/one-in-the-hand-3

Find more retailers through the Universal Book Link: http://books2read.com/WeddingHeat1

Bet I Can Make You Cry (Friday Night Lipstick is Back!)

Remember a trans lesbian novelette I wrote called Friday Night Lipstick?  

No?  

Good!  

Friday Night Lipstick was previously published by loveyoudivine Alterotica and then by Excessica Publishing, and now it's back again.  If you didn't read it the first times around, here's your chance.  And, trust me: don't pass this one up.  A lesbian erotic romance about transgender women in the 50+ age bracket is pretty darn rare.  

I don't write a lot of achingly sweet HEA romance, but this story makes me cry every time I read it.  Honestly: I have NEVER made it through the final chapter without shedding a few tears.  I root like hell for these characters.  They deserve all the happiness in the world.

When Layla and Bernice first met, they'd never heard the word "transgender." Back then, they thought of themselves as cross-dressers and frequented gay clubs together.

Twenty years later, Layla is a glamorous and successful real estate agent living as a woman full-time. Repressed Bernice is still married to a woman who won't let go of the husband Bernice used to be. She spends her lonely nights dreaming of a life with lovely Layla.

While Bernice is trapped in a hopeless relationship, Layla seems perfectly content hopping from bed to bed. On Friday night, when their facades break down, will these long-time friends finally admit their love for one another?

And even if they do, how will married Bernice and swinging single Layla build a future together?


EXCERPT:

There was nothing to say.

There was only the kiss.

For the first time in their twenty-year friendship, Bernice pressed her lips against Layla’s. Layla went one step further, parting Bernice’s teeth. Beyond its sheer strength, that tongue was warm and wet and soft as velvet.

Layla’s kisses matched the vivacity of her character, but there was a delicacy to every moment that Bernice hadn’t anticipated. Really, she never thought this day would come. She’d hoped to kiss Layla, dreamed of it, and now it was happening. Her unnamed wants all sprung to the surface, though she’d cast them aside in her hopeless hours. In the passion and tenderness of this kiss, Bernice saw her future. And it was beautiful.

As they stumbled to Rosanna’s sofa, Bernice peeled the straps from Layla’s shoulders, letting her skimpy dress fall to her waist. Without waiting, without asking permission, Bernice latched on to Layla’s beckoning breasts.

Layla gasped when Bernice pressing both tits together. She’d spent so many lonely nights dreaming of this in bed, dreaming of the woman she loved. She loved. She switched nipples and Layla writhed against her face, moaning, “Yes Bebe, yes doll.”

Bernice pressed her face to those beautiful breasts. Oh, they were so much softer than she’d imagined. She couldn’t control herself, running her tongue from nipple to nipple, licking, sucking, biting, making Layla squeal.

Hiking up her skirt, Layla hooked her thumbs around her black gaff. Bernice’s breath caught in her lungs. She backed off, giving the woman room to wriggle out of those tight-fitting undergarments. Her heart hammered as they slid down Layla’s thighs.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Layla’s copper dress hung over her crotch as she kicked off her underwear. Bernice looked into her eyes and found them full of concern. “If it’s too fast, or if you don’t want to…”

“No.” At her age, Bernice felt embarrassed admitting to her inexperience. “I’m nervous, if you can believe it. I’ve just… I’ve never done this before.”

With a loving chuckle, Layla leaned forward to plant a kiss on Bernice’s cheek. “You sound like a teenager.”

“I know.” Bernice smirked. “I guess that makes you a cradle-robber.”

Layla rolled her eyes.

“Cougar?”

“Hardly.” Laughing, she said, “You’re older than I am.”

“Don’t remind me.” Bernice gazed into the valley of Layla’s thighs, and the darkness beyond. God, why was she so afraid? Maybe because Layla had been with so many men, women, people, who probably had university degrees in cocksucking. What did Bernice know about giving a blow job?

But Layla hadn’t loved those other people. And she loved Bernice. That was the difference.

There was nothing to be afraid of.

Editorial Reviews 

 Bending the Bookshelf - Sally: There is a very real emotional connection there that adds significance to the physical coupling [...] I will refrain from saying anything further, for fear of spoiling the magic, but you know with Giselle that there is a happily ever after in the offering. The way in which she wraps up all the threads of the story is quite beautiful, and if you don't shed a tear or two of happiness before the end, it's likely only because you're exhausted from sharing in their pleasure.

Buy now from Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1134323?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09TBCL5KD?tag=dondes-20
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=2sJgEAAAQBAJ
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/friday-night-lipstick-3
Indigo: https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/friday-night-lipstick/9781005732608-item.html

and here it is in print: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1494931907?tag=dondes-20

or you could read it at Radish: https://radish.app.link/ljqif5lbTnb

and here's the Universal Book Link: https://books2read.com/FridayNightLipstick

You're not going to screw yourself...

Note: This post was originally written in 2017.

A couple months ago, my mom bumped into a family friend she hadn't seen in a while. The friend asked, "What's Giselle up to these days?"

My mom proudly replied, "Giselle is a self-published author!"

When she told my sister and I this story, we burst out laughing.

My mom said, "What? Self-published--isn't that the good one?"

Classic Mom. My work has been published by imprints of Simon and Schuster, HarperCollins and even Oxford University Press, yet my mother goes around gleefully telling the world I'm a self-published author. "Isn't that the good one?"

Self-publishing has generally been more lucrative for me than placing my work with small presses. That's what my mom had latched onto, in conversation. My sister and I tried to explain the snobbery that still exists in the worlds of reading, writing, and publishing. If you go around saying you're a self-published author, most people hear "I suck and nobody's willing to publish my work."

I won't speculate as to whether I suck (my opinion of my writing varies with mood), but over the past 10 years my work has appeared in well over 100 print anthologies. That's in addition to ebooks placed at far too many small presses. I don't say any of this to brag, only to convey that I know for sure there are people out there who are willing to publish my work.

Or, there used to be.

So much has changed since I first started writing. Just today, I got word another anthology my short fiction was accepted for has been scrapped by the published. That's FIVE cancelled contracts this year.

As I've probably mentioned, I never set out to be a writer. I started writing on a dare. I'd just been laid off from my job in the big bad business world and was having a bit of a quarter-life crisis. I felt like I needed to pick a career and stick with it.

Ten years ago, I couldn't see this far into the future. I'd never have imagined I would self-publish my work. The erotica world seemed dominated by websites, magazines, smallish presses and largish presses. I wrote short stories to answer calls for submission. I'd never read an ebook, but I started writing them for small publishers. I'm not saying everything I wrote just magically got published. Trust me--I saw my share of rejection letters. My book Ondine was probably rejected by 6 different publishers. But it needed to be. I got great advice from some very caring editors and improved the book incrementally.

I'd only been writing a few years when author acquaintances started opening their own publishing houses catering to niche markets. I liked the idea of getting in on the ground floor (worked well for me with eXcessica), and I also wanted to support fellow authors who were beginning their own ventures. So I submitted a few works here, a few works there.

Pretty soon, I had ebooks (short stories/novels/novellas) placed with... oh, easily 20 different publishers.

That wasn't my first mistake, but it was probably my biggest.

I've never been an all-your-eggs-in-one-basket type, but Marge Simpson's got a good point when she says, "What would you have me do? One basket for each egg?"

There comes a point where the baskets themselves become too much to carry. In writing terms, how do you keep sending new work to 20 different publishers? If you slack, you're not going to satisfy fans at that publishing house. Putting out new stuff gets eyes on your backlist. Without those eyes, sales stagnate.

There was a point where I had a bunch of royalty cheques coming in for less than $10 each. And then less than $2 each. If I'd consolidated all those efforts with one publisher I really trusted, I think I'd have fared much better.

The trouble is, with the exception of a small handful of publishers, I wasn't working with people I had a lot of faith in. That's dangerous. Some publishers seemed to take their jobs less seriously than I took mine. That's extremely dangerous. That's when you get into publishers who don't bother to send you royalty reports. Or payments. Because they just don't feel like it or whatever.

One thing I've learned over the years is that you don't need to be good at business to run a business. Just because you've decided to become a publisher doesn't mean you're going to behave professionally. I've witnessed more than one publisher treat authors like shit behind the scenes. I had a reader email me one time to say they were having trouble downloading a book and when they wrote to the publisher, the response was basically, "Are you some kind of idiot? You're too stupid to figure out how to download a book?"

You think I'm exaggerating. I wish!

The real kicker was that this particular reader was also a well-respected book reviewer. Save me, Jebus.

When I first started out, I found publishers on the Erotica Readers and Writers Association website and then looked them up on Piers Anthony's site to find out all the dirt. Of course, I couldn't research the startups I hooked up with. They were too new. No data available.

I strongly encourage authors to do their research. Find out who you're getting into bed with. If you trust no one, get into bed with alone. Like Alison Tyler says: "You're not going to screw yourself." (that's not an exact quote, btw)

Wow, I sound really down on publishers. I'm not. I've found great success and incredible support with some. But not all. Most of the publishers I've worked with haven't been jerks. They've done their best, just like I've done mine, but the money wasn't there. Sales were crappy, so we parted ways. That's business.

I'm not sure what the takeaway is, here. Do your homework? Don't get into bed with acquaintances? Don't spread yourself too thin? I don't know. I still make too many mistakes to be giving anyone advice.

Before You Buy Secret Confessions: 36 Erotic Encounters...

Some people really love letter-style erotic confessions... and some people really hate them. 

Do you know the kind of short stories I mean? They tend to be quick down and dirty sex stories told in the first person. These "letters" focus on what happened, who touched what and where--wham, bam, thank you ma'am. 

Maybe they're kinky. Maybe they involve sex between people who shouldn't be having sex together. Maybe they're about a first time, a first experience with a certain type of sex act. Maybe they're about things that seem scary or squicky or gross until you give them a go. 

There are entire magazines devoted to this kind of sex story, the erotic letter.  A lot of readers think they're great. And other readers can't stand them, think they're too short, not enough character development, they're all about sex--too much sex! 

Well, if you hate erotic letters, please DO NOT BUY Secret Confessions: 36 Erotic Encounters. 

Why? 

Because it's a book entirely devoted to erotic letters. 36 of them, to be exact. 

And if you love erotic letters? 

Hehe... then do I have a book for you!

Blurb~

No naughty encounter is ever complete until you tell somebody about it. And who doesn’t feel a tingle while reading a naughty story and wondering, “Is this true? Did that really happen?”

In this collection, you’ll find a whopping 36 erotic stories, as explicit as they are wicked! These confessions involve lesbian encounters, exhibitionism, porn appreciation, voyeurism, masturbation and self-love, cheating and deception, threesomes, group sex, sploshing, ice play, public sex, fisting, sex with a loving partner, female fantasies, rimming, anal play, stranger sex, double penetration, spanking, insertions, bondage, and so much more!

READ AN EXCERPT:

I’m sleeping with a married man. There. I had to get that off my chest.

You’ll understand, I’m sure, if I don’t tell you his name. After all, he could be someone you know. Or you may know his wife or his kids. I wouldn’t want word to get back to them. And just because he’s cheating doesn’t mean he’s a bad man. He isn’t bad, he simply has needs. We all do.

So, what’s it like? Well, last Saturday was a perfect example. At 5:30 in the morning, I heard his key in my door. That smooth metallic noise wakes me every time. It’s better than an alarm clock. I’d been looking forward to seeing him all week. I look forward to it every week.

He tells his wife he likes to jog early in the morning, before pollution envelops the city. He tells her he enjoys his run better when there are fewer people on the sidewalks, and when the sun hasn’t yet risen. These are only half-truths, because he actually does jog all the way from his house to mine. I doubt if his wife even notices anymore when he rolls out of bed before dawn. I doubt if she ever notices him at all. That’s fine. I’ve taken it upon myself to notice him. In fact, I could notice him all day and all night, if I ever had the opportunity.

I emerged from the depths of slumber as he kicked off his shoes in my front hall. I scrambled out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. When you only get to see your lover once a week, you always want to look and smell and taste perfect. And morning breath is a major turn-off. When I switched off the bathroom light, my eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough to the darkness of my bedroom.

I asked, “Where are you?” as I walked straight into him. Ouch. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He concurred with his standard stand-by, “Likewise.”

“All week I’ve been waking up and asking myself, ‘Is it Saturday yet…?’”

That’s all I managed to say before he kissed me. An entire week’s worth of kisses in less than one minute.

Secret Confessions is available as an ebook, audiobook, and in print!

Get your copy today from Smashwords:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1132741?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09SHRHR32?tag=dondes-20
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=1ONeEAAAQBAJ

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940165788222
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id1610775255
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/secret-confessions-36-erotic-encounters-4

Find even more retailers using the Universal Book Link: http://books2read.com/SecretConfessions