Merry Christmas, Baby

I hope the holiday season is a ball for one and all.

xoxo Madeline

Ssssh!

I've got a secret, yes I do.

It's my turn to keep you in suspense. Yahoo!

Something new might happen for Madeline Moore. And I know what it is and you don't.

When I have solid, factual good news - then you will know it, too. But until then - ssssssssh!

Nothin' Up My Slee

Every so often I lose interest in the internet. Sudden. Total. Zero. Interest.

I might rouse myself enough to go to Facebook and harvest crops on my Farmville farm.
Leave the land fallow, because I won't be back for some time. Consider myself lucky I'm not a real farmer.

I'll come here, to this blog, and check out my favourite blog links. But I don't comment, because I don't have anything to say.

After that I come back here. Look at the last post I put up - and know that it's time to post something new. But wha?

I have no writerly news. The crime book is coming along fine. Got a rejection recently for a story that everyone loves but no one wants to publish. And so on.

My personal life is not up for blogging about. Yes, I do have good sex but I don't necessarily think that's something anyone else really cares to know. I mean, really, so what?

These days I don't seem to even have opinions that are strong enough to need an outlet. Sometimes I read the hot-under-the-collar postings of other bloggers and smile and think, 'She's so young.'

Well, there it is. My state of mind. Which I think is just fine, just not huge fodder for blogger. And again - I mean, really, so what?



So What
by Marylou Smithers
Oil on canvas

Leonard Cohen is 75 Years Old!

All together now: Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday dear Leonard, Happy Birthday to You!

The Man born with the gift of a golden voice turned 75 in September. Better late than never, I hope. My belated birthday wishes to Mr. Leonard Cohen, currently on the final leg of his World Tour.


I hope you know:

Everybody loves you, Leonard.

Here's a nice tribute to Leonard Cohen, compiled by One Heck Of A Guy.

The video lists the people who allowed their music to be used on it so I won't repeat that stuff here. Just watch and indulge yourself in some serious LC adulation...it's okay, because:

Everybody loves Leonard Cohen.

Seriously.



video compilation by One Heck of A Guy.

Won't you take me down to Hunky Town

Those of you who don't know I was born in Winnipeg, the bread basket to the west, will be surprised to be told that I love Farmville.

It's an application on Facebook that allows me to work a virtual farm. I was introduced to it by my hip filmmaker best friend. (She's from Saskatchewan.)
We send each other cows as gifts and plant wheat and milk cows and everything.

Before you judge me too harshly, consider this: Lucy Felthouse and Emily Dubberley are my Farmville neighbours.

Recently I joined Yoville, which is life in the city. It doesn't grab me the way Farmville does, but it did get me thinkin' - where would I really like to live?

The answer? I want to live in Hunky Town.

In Hunky Town all the guys are, you guessed it, hunks. And they all walk around naked, or in low-slung jeans, because they are all exhibitionists.

A typical day for Maddie, which would be, ahem, me, would unfold something like this:

First, I need to know what day it is. So I check my calendar.

Oh my! Is it Man Candy Monday already? I should post something...although if it's Monday in Hunky Town, isn't it already Tuesday in the UK? I check out Janine Ashbless's blog and of course Cover Watch, the instigator of Man Candy Monday. Yum.

(But don't you check 'em out quite yet, okay? First finish my post and leave a comment. You won't win a book but you'll make me happy.)

Next, I need that morning cup of java. So I visit my favourite cafe. Hi guys!
Yes, I'd like some creamy froth on my cappucino, if you'd be so kind.




Now that's what I call an eye-opener.




What to do today in Hunky Town. Perhaps a yoga class. It's good to stay supple in Hunky Town.

I don't drive because I'd miss too much sightseeing that way.
So, after yoga, I walk through town to my next stop.

In Hunky Town, it's the gals who whistle at the guys, and all the hunky guys love to be looked at and appreciated, so it's not considered sexist. I whistle at these guys:


but I save my longest, lowest wolf bitch whistle for this one:



Did I mention that in Hunky Town I don't work? I don't even write. But I do good deeds. My latest cause is a plan to bring sexy back. Here's my poster boy:



Oh what a sexy back! (In Hunky Town, all such dumb ass puns are considered hilarious.)

I visit a Domina friend, who has another idea for my campaign. Ooooh. I likes it. Well done, Domina!



My busy day is far from over. It's time to hit the clubs!



Silly naked club guy. You make me laugh. HAHAHAHAHA.
But I have a far better naked guy waiting for me at home.



Once I'm all stretched out in my bed, artfully draped with diaphanous silk, with a resemblance to Heidi Klum that is, I think you'll agree, startling, I call him out of the shadows.



'Come to bed, handsome young naked guy with bulging pecs and lots of underarm hair.'

Oh. You want a picture of him? You'll have to head over to Cover Watch for that, because I can't top their Man Candy Monday.

And so off to sleep. I'll need my beauty rest, even though I already look like Heidi, because every day is a busy day when you live in Hunky Town.

Include Me Out

Ah Craig's List. That cesspool of commerce that provides one paying gig a year. Just enough to keep Felix scrolling through it every morning, as he does his marketing, whilst I complete my beauty rest.

Today's most promising entry?

We are compiling short stories about women and their first experience with masturbation and orgasm.
We are reaching out to women to write about their own experience.
The story should be personal and honest. It should be written in your own style.
It can be as detailed as you want. 15 stories will be selected for publication.

* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
* Compensation: Tbd


I suppose this is something Madeline Moore might be interested in. I query, asking what it pays. The reply:

The length is about 1000 words.
If the sotry (sic) is accepted for publication, the pay will be $500.
What is your age?

Hmmm.Two flags go up. One - five hundred dollars per short story is awfully good pay. Two - my age?

I give it one more shot. 'Do you have a website?' I inquire. 'Who are you.'
The answer:

I am just a guy with an idea. I have a strong sense that there would be a good interest in reading about women with their first
experience with masturbation.
i remember my first time like it was yesterday.
I think many men (and women) would be fascinated by hearing about these experiences.
Ted


A guy with an idea. Yes, there are plenty of those on Craig's List. I suggest he contact publishers with his idea. And I ps with this question - why do you need to know my age?



Okay, that's it for me and marketing today. Ted, if you're reading this, why not go over to Janine Ashbless' blog. She has a nice photo of a good lookin' guy wankin' into the sheets, for 'Man Candy Monday.'

You might find it inspiring. Me? I'm inspired to write a four thousand word short story for the possibility of fifty dollars. I have a sneaking suspicion it'll be much more worth my while.

The Soft Swears

Once upon a time I had a great big house with a great big lawn and a lot of stuff.
The whole place was carpeted, even the bathrooms and, gack, the kitchen. So, my then husband and I decided to renovate.

First, the carpet and subfloor in the kitchen had to be removed. We hired a big guy to do that job.

It was a hot summer day. I hid up in my bedroom because, while in fantasyland having a big sweaty workman in the house and hubby nowhere in site is a good thing, in my real, pre-erotica writing days, the dude gave me the creeps.

Oh how he worked! Great heaving sounds emanated from below, punctuated with exclamations like, 'Shit!' and 'Fuck! and 'Christ!' and 'Goddam!' and 'Piss!'

Finally, all was silent. I ventured downstairs to survey the scene. Yes, the subfloor was up. Yes, the big workman was mopping his brow.

'Tough job,' he said.

'I could tell,' I said.

He looked at me, surprise etched on his big man face. 'I was only using the soft swears,' he replied.

Hmmm. Made me wonder. What are the hard swears?

The Humiliation Cup

I keep a mug on my desk. It has Prince Charles' goofy face on it. And I call it my humiliation cup.

You may recall awhile back, when Charles and Camilla were still lovers, and his cell phone conversation with her was picked up by some curious hacker and broadcast all over the world. Charles, ever the sweet talkin' dude, claimed he wished he were Camilla's tampon so he could be close to her.

I'm going to repeat that. He said, 'Oh wouldst that I could be a tampon inside that snatch, that I might touch those soggy red walls.'

Everyone knew. And Prince Charles had to get out there and face not just his mother, Queen Elizabeth, who very likely was not amused,and his kids and so on but the whole world.

He had to get out there and meet the people, knowing that everyone knew that the Heir Apparent to the Throne would rather be Camilla's Tampon than King.

I keep the cup, which I call my 'Humiliation Cup' on my desk to remind me that however much I might humiliate myself, I will never, ever be as humiliated as Prince Charles, Heir to the Throne of England.

I take solace in that.

Today, my sister, whom I shall call Demi, takes comfort from it, too.

Here's her story:

i just don't know why but on the same day as the most amazing gig, my period showed up. Of course it did. But it wasn't a problem, not that heavy and no cramps. so i did the gig and then next day is the cool jazz friends open house. so i put on a tampon and a pad and off i go.



the party goes late, the main guest leaves. out comes the pole dancing. the main pole dancer is this young hot blonde babe who has done it professionally.


my friends know me as having had them laughing so hard, so then they call me up right after her. "Demi Moore, you're up!!!"


so i decide forget following her act. i'm going for the humour. There was a drumset sitting there and we've all talked about jazz being just like sex and how I play a really hot groove. so this was a logical thing to do . . i just went the drums, grabbed a stand and a cymbal, threw it on the ground near the pole with a crash, and then got down and dirty with it. you can imagine the implications - i had them howling as I pretended to hump this cymbal stand and caress the cymbal and so on.


it was all going so great until i did the backwards crotch exposing summer sault. I heard my friend kinda tip me off that it wasn't a good move, so i finished my routine and it was all great.


well, moments later we're sitting there and i realize i need to change my pad, so i go the bathroom and learn to my horror that yesterday's light flow had suddenly and for no reason turned into like a mount st helen eruption-yes, the pad was soaked and a huge embarrassing stain was all over the crotch of my pants.

you know i should sue the tampon company. I really should. They don't work even when you back them up with a pad,


just brutal brutal brutal.





Ah Demi, it is, indeed, brutal.

By the way, the above picture is not really a picture of a couple of tampons. Why, Madeline Moore would never post such a pic on her blog. It's a picture of a stun gun disguised as a couple of tampons. But I digress...

My sister has asked for her own 'Humiliation Cup' and I think you'll agree that she should have one. But let us all remember, should our tampons leak as we are wrapping ourselves around the pole - 'Hey, at least I don't wanna BE a tampon!

Finally, Demi mentioned that she's been suffering about her little accident ever since it occured, and the only laugh she's had is imagining me giving my first reading ever at a club where people in fetish costume were opening the door between the library and the live sex room and poking their noses in to see what was going on. While the some of my audience looked like this:



which I'm sure you will agree is quite pleasing, from time to time the door would open and folks would poke their noses in to see what was going on. One of them, who looked horrified at the scene he encountered,(people listening to a woman read from a book?!) looked like this:



Not humiliating, of course. But my sister Demi is right, it is fucking funny.

Hear Me Hear Me Hear Me...

The fine print at the bottom says 'Free Erotica Readings every Month.
10 pm - 11 pm in Library at Club M4
2814 Lakeshore Blvd. West, near Islington.

Looks like I'll be reading tonight, Friday Sept. 11, for the very first time. Attendees, if I understand correctly, meet in the library for the readings and afterwards can go on into a fetish bar if they're dressed appropriately. Free admitance to the fetish bar for readers. Hmmm.

I think if I can get through 20 minutes of my prose without blushing or collapsing I'll have had enough excitement for one night. Never know, though...it *is* Friday night.

But seriously, oh sages of the sex reading stage, gimme your inside tips. I've never read any of my work aloud. It's daunting for erotica to be my first time. But hey, it's my world and welcome to it. Right?

20 minutes. Felix gets 20 minutes as well and our hostess, Sephera, gets 20. That seems like a long time to me.

How many pages is that?

So far my preparation has consisted of painting my toe nails cherry red and steaming (in the shower that is) my black linen dress. I thought that was enough but now I'm wondering...guess I should pick some pithy passages?

Here's sephera's website for more info.

THOTS??

Ultimate Decadence

What would be your ultimate decadence? How about kicking back with an anthology of sizzling erotica, knowing that with each page you turn, you're helping Macmillan Cancer Care help people with cancer?

You can do just that, by purchasing ULTIMATE DECADENCE, edited by Emily Dubberly and containing stories by some of erotica's hottest voices - including yours truly.

Click on the banner to the right, or right here and get ready to double your pleasure.

ERWA Reviews Sarah's Education

Oh my! Here I was thinking that 'launch day' for an erotica writer living in Canada is a bit of a non-event - and then I find Ashley Lister's review of Sarah's Education in the September edition of the Erotica Readers and Writers Association.

Oh boy! Ashley likes my book. He says Madeline Moore (that's me!) 'has a distinctive style of blending a compelling story with no-nonsense prose and writing ribald, raunchy romps.'

And - 'Sarah’s Education is one of those enjoyable reads that continues to excite, arouse amuse and titillate as the story progresses'

And, and,and - 'For any reader whose appetites favour intelligent erotica with a constant sense of enjoyment, Sarah’s Education is a must-have title for your collection.'

Oh, why not go over to the ERWA and read the whole thing? And remember, if you link to Amazon from the ERWA and buy the book, the website profits.

I love the ERWA, don't you?

Sarah's Education Now Available in North America

Today's the day! Sarah's Education is finally gonna come your way...
unless you live in the U.K., in which case you've had a few months to get to know the studious (by day) and lascivious (by night) Ms. Sarah Meadows.

How about a little snippet from the book to whet your appetite?

You talked me into it.

In this excerpt, Sarah has asked a john she particularly likes (and who will figure in her life much more prominently that either of them know at the moment) to give her a beating with his belt:

John ate a little awkwardly, with his belt still wrapped around his fist. As Sarah picked at her salad, every sway of the free-hanging end drew her eyes, like a rabbit following the movements of a cobra. But this rabbit couldn’t wait to feel the cobra’s bite. Or could she? It was going to hurt, really hurt. She could beg off. John would allow that, she knew. But if she did, she’d be showing cowardice, and she need his respect. Undecided, Sarah did what she always did when in a serious quandary, she made her mind go blank and let whatever was going to happen, happen.

Her mind still in a fog, she was led to the bed and spread-eagled once more. John secured her wrists to the brass scrolls. Seemingly without effort, he lifted her bottom off the bed, lifted it high, right over her head, and manacled her ankles, wide apart, to the top of the bed’s head. A pile of pillows under her shoulders made the awkward position more comfortable. Nice man. Sarah gazed up at her delta from only a foot beneath it. Pretty pussy.

John made a few adjustments to her bonds and her legs, so that her thighs were perfectly horizontal, parallel to the bed. ‘Ready?’ he asked.

'Hm?’

‘Are you ready?’

She couldn’t really nod, not folded like that, so Sarah was forced to vocalise her affirmative, though not in articulate words, even though she wasn’t sure what he was asking her. When you don’t quite understand what’s going on, ‘Yes’ is best, or at least, easiest.

John stroked the undersides of her thighs. Nice. That wasn’t why she was contorted like that, though, was it? He rested the loose end of his belt across her legs, halfway between her knees and her upturned bottom, then moved it a little higher.

‘This is above where the hem of your skirts usually come to, isn’t it?’

Why was that significant? Whatever, she made another ‘yes’ sound.

The leather strap lifted. That meant something, something frightening but thrilling, but she didn’t think about what. The belt came down, hard. Sarah yelped involuntarily. A line of fire burned across the backs of her thighs.

‘You still want it? You can still change your mind.’

‘Um, want, yes.’

Leather cracked down again, an inch higher. Sarah emerged from her fog. Oh fuck! It was really happening. What had she let herself in for? Was she crazy?

The third and fourth and fifth blows landed, each closer to her bottom. Pain seared into her. Tears were streaming from her eyes and she’d almost decided that she was ready to face the humiliation of begging him to stop when the sixth whacked down on the lower curves of her bum’s cheeks, and she was suddenly in absolute bliss.

The belt progressed from low on her bottom to halfway up it, where her cheeks were fullest, then made their way down towards her thighs again. Her flesh was glowing embers. Each blow reignited the skin it landed on. The pain was hellish and heavenly. It was as if she’d taken some powerful euphoric that had set her spirit free to soar through and to pure delight. Her thighs and her bottom had been transformed by ecstatic agony. Deep inside, she was starting to clench.

Something dripped onto her chin. Of course! Her sex was weeping with joy. The internal convulsions accelerated and became stronger. She was so fucking close! Sarah knew she could take the belt forever, yet when it fell to the bad she moaned with relief.

Something - his fingers? - forced entrance to her sex and drove deeply into her pussy. The invader pistoned. Other fingers manipulated her clit.

Sarah heard herself shouting, ‘Love it! Love it!’ The fingers forced their way even further into her, into where she was clamping rhythmically, and triggered…‘Yip, yip, yip, yip,’ …erotic bliss.


What a kinky little slut Sarah is, wouldn't you agree?

Want more? Sure, no problem. Just follow this link in the USA and this one in Canada, and you can have the whole story. Buy the book!

xoxo Madeline

Man Candy Monday

I love a man who loves his work, and this handsome hard hat obviously enjoys physical labour day in day out. At night? I imagine (oh how I imagine) he enjoys the labour of love. In and out. In and out.

Death Socks

The Death Socks are a pair again. It always makes me happy when I have both. I've lost one often, in the eight years since she died, and sometimes the lost one stays lost for a great stretch of time.

I've even turned that lonely remaining sock into a sachet, filling it half full of potpourri, tying it off with a knot and placing it in my lingerie drawer. At such times I admonish myself for my unhappiness at having lost its mate. I have lots of her stuff, I remind myself. Jewellery and china. I even have her mink. It's silly to mourn the loss of a sock.

But they were her favourites. She wore them to the end, I think. But that would mean I took them off her feet after she died. I don't think that's what happened but I might be wrong.

She died at home, with dignity, surrounded by loved ones. We read that a lot, at least the part about dignity and loved ones. I wonder how often it's really true. In this case, it's really true.


I was her primary care giver in an anticipated death at home. She was my mom. We were symbiotic. When she was sad I was sad and when she cried I cried. She cried a couple of times. When she was brave I was brave, and she was usually brave. When she forgot she was dying and laughed, I forgot and laughed, too. And when she remembered, I remembered.

She ate as long as she could hold a spoon. I said, "Mom, tell me what you want and if I can do it, I will."

"I want you to make your vichyssoise," she said, so I did. Her last few meals were home made vichyssoise. I was true to my word.

Thanksgiving Dinner, her final scheduled appearance, was a triumph. She had seconds! That night, I cupped her elbow from time to time, to help the slow motion progress of her fork to her mouth. But I never fed her.

This anticipated death at home was one of the few times in my life when I knew I was doing the right thing. I knew it was a good thing to do. That absolute knowledge was powerful.

We were a team, she and I. She said "I love you," to me a thousand times. I have siblings who hoped for one such expression from her, and hoped in vain. I was the lucky one.

She died on a Sunday. The funeral was Wednesday. I flew back to Toronto on Thursday and on Friday I started packing up the family home. I'd signed the sale of our house by fax. My husband and I were separating and I only had a month to organize the move.

People think I endured two terrible events back to back, but that's not the case. The death was a beautiful thing. We were successful. She showed me her strength and her weakness. She asked me to take care of her and I said I would. And then I did.

The murder of the marriage and the ugliness that went along with it, that's the tragedy.

The first loss of a Death Sock occurred shortly after I'd returned home. My best friend, Ted, had some of my art and I had some of his and I'd decided we should trade back before the move. It'd been raining so I was wet as well as miserable when I arrived. Looking back, I think the scope of my problems overwhelmed him. Anyway, for whatever reason, he bailed on our friendship.

My socks were still soaked when I left. I cried all the way home, not as viscerally as I had when my Dad pronounced my Mother dead, but close. When I realized I only had one sock on, I cried harder. I wanted both socks. I didn't really want the mink coat but I wanted those socks. I was sure I'd left one at Ted's place, a place I knew I'd never visit again.

But apparently not. The second sock surfaced and joined the first. Since then one has gone missing, often. I don't worry about it any more. When Felix and I moved, I paired them up again. Two Death Socks in a drawer.

They are short, cotton socks, white with a blue pattern. Similar to the ones in this picture.



I'm happy when I wear them and I do wear them (unlike the mink.)

I'm wearing them now, remembering her and me and us. I remember resting beside her dead body. I'd been sleeping with her for a few weeks and the fact that she was dead didn't deter me from curling up beside her and fiercely promising her still warm corpse, "I will never let a man crush me, again."

I was happy, curled up beside her. We'd accomplished what we'd set out to do. The cancer was her tragedy, but her exit from this world was our triumph.

Amanda as Aphrodisiac

Here's an email I received today from my sister, a musician.

you'll love this. Your book was at chapter's so I bought it. I was hanging out at some gigs. First the jazz club. So I read the forward and then the first few pages.


I was just laughing my ass off - the part where she goes through the construction zone and figures the guys are passing the younger guy around . . . just killin!!


so then i headed off to another club and here's the best part:


on the way in, this young dark handsome guy gives me a high 5. I thought he must know me but he didn't. I asked him his name "Andreas!" he said with that macho masculine thing that reminded me of Italy.


Italian?


Argentina.


so i continued into the club, thinking "what would amanda have done with that? har har"


not 5 seconds later, some other man starts flirting with me in the aisle. Then 5 seconds later i sat down near a friend, and a guy at the next table started hitting on me immediately. I got up not even 5 minutes later and walked past a table where one of the guys from the music store where i teach flagged me down, and totally checked me out about and down and gave a big grin of approval.

man, you are a good writer or what?


See, you don't need pheremones-in-a-bottle or an online dating profile or even a come hither look on your face. All you need is one of my books!!

I've written to ask her if she had the cover displayed prominently, as I suppose that would make a difference. I'll let you know.

xoxo Madeline

Jade's Erotic Awards 2009 - Best Cover

Jade Magazine has voted SARAH'S EDUCATION Best Erotic Book Jacket of the Year for 2009. I'm chuffed!

Here's what Jade has to say:

Book Jacket of the Year: SARAH'S EDUCATION (Black Lace).

The great debate over what constitutes an ‘erotic’ image still rages today and is largely subjective. However, of all the books we received for review over the last year the image for the cover of ‘Sarah’s Education’ by Madeline Moore and published by Black Lace was, for us here at JADE, easily the most sensual and erotic image we had seen adorn a book jacket. Without any bare flesh or body parts the simple image spoke seductive, sensual volumes of what was to come - the essence, we believe, of the perfect erotic image.

Let's have a look at that cover, shall we?



My my, this looks like my favourite kind of erotic book:

Purty on the Outside,
Dirty on the Inside!

Okay, so I didn't take the picture or pose for it or even get to choose it, but I like it! No, scratch that. I love it!

My dear 'friend I've never met', Janine Ashbless, received Jade's Award for writer of the year, 2009.

A;though Black Lace, Virgin Books, gets the credit on Jade's site, we all know it's the parent company that makes or breaks a little imprint.

So congratulations, Random House! From the inside out, you really know how to produce award winning erotica!

Thank You. Thank You very much!

Hello Stranger, Hello Neighbour

Not so long ago, we lived in communities where everybody knew each other.
When a person fell ill, she could depend on her neighbours for food and comfort.
If a fire razed one man’s farmhouse, he could be sure that soon a man, and another, and another, would arrive with wood and nails to help him erect a new one. We lived in communities.

These days we strive to live in isolation. How many people, even those living in apartments, know the people who live across the hall, never mind on another floor of the same building. When our neighbours, people who live near us but are strangers, experience misfortune, we don’t know about it or, if we do, we turn a blind eye and a deaf ear. “I have my own problems,” we mutter defensively. “Life is hard.”

Maybe we’re the ones making life hard.

One day my daughter came to visit me for the first time in my apartment. Her father and I had split up and she’d chosen to live with him. I was understandably nervous when she decided to go for a walk downtown. Although I live in a small town she was only nine at the time and I worried for her safety.

When she returned I immediately asked, “Did anyone talk to you?” And she replied, “Only one man. He lives in that house with the stone fence that is on the corner opposite this apartment building.”

“Oh.” I knew the house, of course, how could I not? I walked by it every day, at least twice. But I hadn’t bothered to wonder who lived in it, though the occupants were my “neighbours.”

No, I’d been too preoccupied with my troubles. Why had my marriage failed? Not so long ago I’d been the wife of a wealthy man with a big house full of things, my own car, and many supposed good friends. Where had everything and everybody gone?

Now I asked my daughter, “What did he say.”

“Well,” she replied, “he said, ‘Everybody’s a fucking asshole.’”

There it was, the answer to all my questions, out of the mouth of a babe as related to her by a complete stranger.
The moral of this little tale is simple.

Everybody is a fucking asshole.

Madeline's Hallucination

Behold, an angel appeared.



And he said, 'Fear not, Madeline, for you and all Black Lace/Nexus authors shall be published. Write author, write! And all will be well.'

Pink Slips and Safe Words

It's early am where I am and I can't sleep. Sure, I'm worried about the whole Black Lace/Nexus thing. Since Felix writes for Nexus and I write for Black Lace, it's like we both got fired on the same day. Or at least, laid off. Although we're still waiting for our pink slips.



I'm wondering if Adam Nevill has a plan? It must be awful for him because he's the one who knows us, by name and by temperment. He hates to write a rejection letter, so this must be a living hell for him. I'm so sorry to think he is suffering.

Adam's been the best editor for me, just the best. He nurtured me. I wrote a piece on this blog not long ago about his non-reaction to my first two books. Honestly, I don't think he even liked them very much, but he must have had faith in me, because he said yes to my proposal for Sarah's Education.

From the very beginning I knew Sarah was the one, the book of mine that was going to be wonderful. And I think it is, and his glowing email after he read it let me know on no uncertain terms that he thought so too. It hasn't been out long, (five days, and only in the UK) but it's on BOTH the erotica and romance books best seller lists. Thank you Adam.

But I am not the best writer in the Black Lace stable. Oh no. For obvious reasons I'm not about to start naming names. Well, maybe they aren't that obvious. First, I'll leave someone off the list and have to come back again, and again, and it's already getting close to dawn around here. Why start something I'm just going to make a mess of? And, you know. sure, Canadians are humble and polite and all that but I'm not going to shoot myself in the foot. So I'll simply say this:

Black Lace publishes a helluva lot of the the best women writers of erotica working in the business today. And, like, tomorrow. After that we don't know for sure...

Where do these writers go for 2010?

Who do these writers submit their ideas to, for 2011?

Does Random House imagine we'll get jobs to tide us over? It's kind of hard to get a job right now, actually, because of that recession we've been hearing so much about. I mean, it's hard for employable people and not all writers of erotica are all that employable, for crying out loud.

And, while a lot of us write female characters who are submissive and get off on physical and/or verbal humiliation - it's a sexual thing. Like, the characters submit to their studly playmates, for the sexual thrill of it all.

We can't be depended on to grovel to the corporate suits at Random House. Oh no.




It is the suits who will need a safe word, not the writers, should it come down to a little scening in the Board Room.

So, there will be a lot of writers looking for work in the coming months. Frankly, I think most of us will find it. Unless we are offered retainers, which I think might be a very good idea for Random House to consider, I don't know how many of us will be *available* if and when the company is ready to take us back.

We shall see, come 2011, who licks whose boots.

IN DENIAL

Don't be silly. Don't be ridiculous. Impossible.
Hear me? NOT possible.
So Hush.
I don't want to hear it.
I don't want to know.

JULY 2, 2009 - SARAH's EDUCATION available in the U.K.

It's time to buy the book, beautiful babies!
HURRAH!

Trust me - it's a sizzling read!

xoxo Madeline

Man Candy Monday

Ten years ago the sexiest man alive died when the small plane he was piloting crashed into the Atlantic Ocean while en route to Martha's Vineyard.

I still miss him, as much for what he might have become had he lived as for who he was and what he'd accomplished while he was alive. I think John Kennedy Junior was a great guy.



While the world tries to make sense of the life and death of the King of Pop, I'm going to go back, way back, and miss a man whose greatest fault was thrill-seeking, whose generosity was quiet but constant, and who was so handsome it's just a tragedy that he didn't survive to grow a little grey at his temples.



Plus he sure looked good in his swimming trunks

Moody Monday

Erotica Cover watch introduced us to Man Candy Monday and I think it's a pretty good idea. Mostly because it's hard to come up with a blog topic on a Monday. For some reason, even though I'm a writer so days of the week shouldn't much matter, Monday strikes hard. There's stuff to do and somehow the chores and the writing have gotten tangled up together, as if getting a grad gift together and writing a short story are equally daunting.

So instead I go a blog hopping, and find that while I've been fussing about stuff some people are fighting the good fight. Some people have so many opinions. Yikes! And they're so freakin' eloquent.

There's nothing like a few pics of hunky men, or hunky men with curvy chicks, to soothe my psyche and remind me that yes, while the grad gift is important, the writing about sex is the thing.

Hey, it's what I do! So excuse me while I zip to the mall for paper and string and a proud mother card. That done, I'll be hitting the keys. There's plenty of time between now and the grad ceremony (afterwhich this gorgeous and brilliant kid of mine heads to Queens, where, as she puts it "It's gonna be great! Just think! There won't be any stupid people there!) to get some work done.

Still plenty of time, God willing, for everything.

Sarah's here, safe and sound!

Look who showed up on my doorstep today, times ten! Sarah! Oh how I love the look of a book with my name on it. And it really is a pretty cover, in fact my editor tells me that Jade Magazine considers it the best cover this year. Squee!

I've never squeed before. I like it. I think I'll do it again. Squeeeeeeee!

Sarah's Education hits the bookshelves, virtual and otherwise, July 2 in the UK. Pre-order now, right here.

I'm off to leaf through the novel now. Unlike Felix, who looks at the front and back covers of his latest novel and then tucks it away in our 'Our Books' drawer, I just have to at least thumb through the thing. Can't help myself. Don't want to.

I truly enjoyed writing this book. I hope it sells well and gets great reviews and someday earns me some royalties. But even if it doesn't - I really enjoyed writing this book.

xoxo Madeline

My Trip, by Madeline Moore

What a beautiful beach, don't you think? Felix and I went to Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic. Yes, I know it's hot where I live, now, but it wasn't when we booked our initial getaway. Then I got sick, yada yada, so we went to the Dominican Republic for a week.



The weather was perfect, the music was marvelous, the people were terrific, the food was good, and the air conditioning worked beautifully.

I'm happy to be home.

WE HAVE A WINNER!

I'm back from being stroked by the Caribbean sun. It was mahvelous, Dahlings.

So, down to the business of giving away a copy of AMANDA'S YOUNG MEN.

By random selection, the winner is orelukjpo.

orelukjpo, please email me at: telltale @ primus.ca (without the spaces) with your mailing address and soon you'll be holding AMANDA'S YOUNG MEN in your hot little hands.

Thank you to all the contestants. And don't forget, you can still own the book, you just have to buy it.

That's it for contests for me for awhile. Time to get back to work...

Thank you again to everyone who entered. And congratulations orelukjpo.

REVIEWS and CONTEST

Well lookie here. Another terrific review for Amanda's Young Men. This one is from Angelika Devlyn at
Alternative-Read.com

Angelika says, "I loved this book. Amanda is smart, sexy, and keen to experiment. I felt for her at times when things were not going her way, and I was pleased to celebrate her successes, of which there are a few..."

Hey, why not read the whole review, right here.

Or pick it from the list of reviews in my sidebar. Then post a comment about the review you've read and you can win a copy of Amanda's Young Men.

The contest ends June 1 so get with the beat, oh readers of sexy books. I'll be announcing the winner when I get back from my fun in the sun holiday with Felix Baron.

xoxo Madeline

Going Going Gone

We booked a last minute getaway to Cuba, departing at the end of March. Less than twenty four hours after the booking was made, I was rushed to Emergency. I was admitted and a few days later, had surgery. I was still in the hospital on the day we were scheduled to depart.

So - once again Felix and I are gearing up for a getaway. Yes, it's a little late in the season to hit the Caribbean but so what? Once we get there, will it matter that everyone at home isn't shovelling snow? I don't think so!

Today, my Dad and little bro arrive from Winnipeg. They're driving out my Dad's 1994 Buick, as he's just upgraded to a snazzy red 2008 coupe. Dad's 84 and he's decided to live the good life. So I get the old car.

We prairie people routinely drive long distances. Life without wheels has been a challenge for me and I'm looking forward to getting behind the wheel again. Thanks Dad! Thanks Al!

I'll take possession of my car, entertain the boys, finish a short story and START PACKING.

Felix and I have never taken a vacation together. What will it be like, I wonder?
Sexy? Or sweet? Relaxing? Or vigorous? Wild? Or peaceful?

I can't wait to find out.

So Sarah sighed and said OK

This is the new cover for my soon-to-be-published novel, SARAH'S EDUCATION.

I can hear those BICEPS sirens now, except BICEPS doesn't critique Black Lace covers much because, as 'erotic romance' we are allowed the occasional man on our covers.
Just not man and woman legs, tangled together in the sheets.

It's a pretty cover and I'm not one to whine much about the aspects of publishing my work that I have no power over. But SARAH'S EDUCATION is about a philosophy student who becomes a high class call-girl. As she gains experience in her new profession, she discovers she likes the kinky clients best.

Kinks in the novel include, off the top of my head:

ménage a trois with couples
fur
smoking
spanking
dress up
bondage
D/s
infantilism

One thing she never does is don a blindfold.

Oh well. Just please keep your fingers crossed that the product description (and the back cover) does not start with "Nineteen year old Sarah..." because that was first draft stuff, when the story was set in Ontario where the legal drinking age is nineteen. (It's important to the story, OK?) Once I moved the novel to the USA, she became twenty-one. There is a new description and it is supposed to go on the book and the bookstore sites. Oh God of Publishing, let it be so!



Halp! I can see menz legs...iz nt nrml?

CONTEST TIME!!!

Yay! She liked it! She liked it! Kristina Wright gives AMANDA'S YOUNG MEN a lovely review, and it's up at the ERWA site right here right now.

Hey! Isn't it about time I had an Amanda contest?

Yes it is!

Read the review, or one of the other reviews of the book listed on this blog's 'review' section, and tell me which part you liked best...
I'll pick a winner in May and another in June
since the book will be featured on the ERWA for two months.

Want to read my XXXtremely sexxxy cougar book?

Now's your chance!

Go to the link, read the review, and post your comment to WIN!
Don't forget to check back to see if you're the winner.
Many thanks to 'She' for the first comment. She can see I've amended the contest just a tad but no worries...your entry is solid.

No time for the old in and out

I'm just here to check the parking meter.

Just a silly quote from 'Oh Lucky Man'

I'm feeling lucky today. I survived surgery and my newly unstapled scar was pronounced 'beautiful.' By the surgeon, but still...now that I understand what was wrong with me and what she expected to find during the 'long and complicated' surgery she was going to perform, followed by a stay in I.C.U., I feel really lucky to have had a short, simple sugery. I *was* kind of looking forward to ICU, just for the novelty of it, and to have my very own nurse, but I graciously gave that up to be returned to my room, and Felix, and then come home!

Amanda's Young Men is getting terrific reviews! 3 so far, one of which will appear on the ERWA site in May. Good reviews...what a great feeling.

And another book in the publishing process. Sarah's Education will do well, I think.
I guess it's time to start lining up reviews, excerpts, etc. for Sarah...but for the rest of today I'm going to bask in my good luck.

Success Stories

Recently I contacted the Humber School for Writers to see if the time was right to add 'genre writing' to their course list. The jury's still out on that one, but I was invited to speak as one of the school's 'success stories'.

Well, sure!

I've made a few forays into the world of literature lately, and I've been pleasantly surprised to be warmly received. So far, so good.

Oh! I'll be able to mention, when I speak on the panel, that one of my books has been translated into German. Yes! Wild Card was chosen from the Black Lace list by a German publisher. This looks good on the resume and in the bank account.

I admit I'm a little worried about the Q and A portion of my little talk. Still, with three novels (one translated into German) and lots of short stories to my credit, I can hold my head high.

Onwards!

Good News Day

Kimberley Spinney at ecata romance says Amanda's Young Men is '...an amazing feast for the senses.' and '...a wickedly decadent novel.' and, oooh we like this, 'Madeline Moore’s story is a must own, must buy story of lust, passion and finding one’s self in the world.'

Four stars!

A must, must own!

Read the whole review Here.

Wild Card has been picked up by the Germans, so I have my first ever royalties cheque. Yahoo!

My staples come out today. So I'll feel a lot more like a writer and a lot less like a magzine. Oh boy!

I'm chuffed and I'm cheery and I'm chock full o' love.

Launch Day!

Yes, today's the day Amanda's Young Menis available in the USA and Canada!

As you can see, my ancestor, Mary Lin Moore, was adept at ship launching. Me - I'm attempting to be adept at book launching! Oh what the heck, let's have a look at that book right now!




Unfortunately, as I was abducted by aliens for a solid week and just deposited back on earth on Friday, I'm not up to a full-fledged party. No champers for me, not until the staples (and can you believe aliens staple their victims back together when they're finished with them, like so many pieces of paper?!) are removed.

I failed to follow the advice that accompanied a photo of the ship that picked me up:



'If you see a UFO, act normal.'

If only I'd known.

More about my adventures in outer space later. Today, let's celebrate as best we can. Hurray for Amanda's Young Men.

Follow the links to place an order on Amazon:

You can order it in the US

and in Canada

and in the UK, where it's been available for awhile.

I'll be back to blogging and promoting and making a fuss about things, soon. For now, it's back to bed with a grin on my face. It's good to be a Black Lace author and damn, it's good to be home.