Meljean Brook

No, no — this is not about the letter in RWR about how today’s heroines all talk and act like sluts (because that’s been done and discussed over and over and over and over and over.) But I do feel I should warn readers that a) my heroines aren’t likely to be virgins (although they could be), and b) they are going to be aware of their sexual needs, c) might not always have the healthiest sexual history, but they know it, and d) might say “fuck.”

What you won’t find in my books: a heroine who says, “What is that long, hard thing in your pants?” (Although, I guess Savi did say that to Colin, kind of.)

His hands enfolded one of hers, brought it down to his upper thigh. A hard, steel length lay beneath the fine wool of his trousers. “Not precisely what I’d like you to touch in that location, but it’s there if you want it.”

A gun. Either loaded with tranquilizer darts made with hellhound venom, or bullets laced with the same.

I miss Colin sometimes. Sigh.

So, anyway! This was about me getting around. And I am! I’m over at Bam’s blog, writing the Best! Story! Ever! (AKA, the kind of stuff that comes out of me at 1am, and the caffeine isn’t working anymore.)

I’ve also sent a post to The Good, the Bad, & the Unread for their ValenDuckie event. It should show up today or tomorrow — it’s all about non-romantic movies, and the romances in them.

And tomorrow, I’ll be guest blogging at Simply Romance Reviews.

…did I mention that all of these posts have prizes attached? Like, um, a certain new release? Go forth!

ETA: Okay, considering where I’ve taken the comments, obviously this did become about that letter. I mentioned over and over, and here are the places the discussion has gone on before (just in recent memory — there were a few others (I think at JMC’s blog, and I’ll link if I can track them down)): Jeaniene Frost’s livejournal, and at the Smart Bitches. But although I remembered (and applauded) Jeaniene’s response last month, I didn’t realize until I stumbled across it again that it was in response to the same letter, printed in both the January RWR issue and the February issue. WTF? Is it an oversight, someone in editorial hoping for a reaction, or someone in editorial agreeing with the letter-writer’s viewpoint so they’re publishing it again?

Warning: this post contains spoilers for Lora Leigh’s Forbidden Pleasure and Joey W. Hill’s The Vampire Queen’s Servant, and it references sexual acts that are a) kinky, and therefore b) just plain wrong

So I read these two books, and I gotta say — I don’t get it. Because I’m reading along, quite certain that these are romance novels, and that the characters I’m reading about are the good guys … but then they start doing things. And I think to myself: that can’t be right! All of this must have just been setting up the suspense part, showing the villains getting ready to move in on the real main characters of the story, the good guys.

So I flip to the back covers. And yes, the characters I’ve been reading about are mentioned on the cover copy — the names match. So I scratch my head and carry on, even though I feel a little betrayed by the publishers who’ve listed this as a romance. Feel a little betrayed by the authors for making me like these characters, when I know they can’t have a happy ending … because any woman who engages in these types of sexual activities is ALWAYS a villainess. But I read on, because I can’t help myself. There’s double penetration, oh my god. A female dominant. Sexual toys. One “hero” makes two women come on a table at the same time while his heroine watches and the author actually makes me root for them! And they get a HEA!

*sob*

I know that’s not right. I know that can’t be right. I can’t help but think of the skanky villainess in Katherine Kingsley’s In the Wake of the Wind, who pretended to be paralyzed whilst attempting to destroy the relationship between the hero and heroine, and so what if I kind of wanted to have a footman and a riding crop after reading the scene that the heroine stumbled upon and that showed exactly how twisted and Evil the villainess was. *sob* I should have been shocked and disgusted like the heroine was! And I was so ashamed, because I thought the villainess was probably having better sex than the hero and heroine! *sob* I knew I was a dirty girl then, I knew it.

And now I’m reading these two books, and I see these dirty, dirty villains falling in love and being decent people and I just don’t know what this means for me as a writer. Because I overwrite, people, and I was thinking the next book I’d just make it really easy, and show how bad the villainess was by having her dominant AND using sex toys AND taking it up the ass AND maybe even forcing the hero to have sex with someone because there’s no way that could be hot, only skanky — but, goddammit, now that won’t work, because the good guys are doing this now, too — and I like reading about it as much as they apparently like doing it, because at the end I’m convinced they are in love, and not dirty-evil-love, but good, they’re-a-really-great-match and all-the-happier-for-it love.

But what will the romance genre come to if we can’t use that kinky-sex-shorthand for Evil?

Someone hold me. *sob* I’m so cold.

Note: This is another repost from the old blog. It seemed time to bring it over (particularly since a 2am wandering post is a bit, um, wandering).

“I don’t know why I brought you home,” Meljean muttered.

“You know why.” The ruthless sneer the carrot cake gave her made her tremble with longing. “You want me.”

“No!” Meljean turned her head away from the enticing ripple of cellophane, the angular sensuality of the slice within. “I don’t!” But her denial sounded weak to her own ears, and the cake—the cake, in all of its discerning sexiness—would not be fooled by such an obvious lie.

She backed up against the kitchen counter, felt the dig of the silverware drawer—the drawer that her absentminded husband always left open—into her plump rump. The sensation reminded her why she should resist the cake’s sinful temptation.

“You’re no good for me!” she cried.

But the cake wouldn’t let her retreat. The sweet, seductive odor followed her across the kitchen, cutting through the odd smells emanating from the garbage disposal. Her taste buds sprang to attention as if of their own volition.

The cake eyed the quivering buds triumphantly. “Why do you resist? The long, hard, delicious carrots that made me are exactly what you need. They’re healthy.”

“But not mixed with butter and flour and sugar and frosting—no! Do not think to trick me, you cretin,” Meljean said with heat, dismayed by her body’s betrayal. In desperation, she ran to the cupboard, tore it open.

The cake caught her, spun her around. “What do you have in there?”

Its touch sent a frisson of pleasure through her. Her mouth watered with desire. “Low-fat brownies,” she said defiantly.

“You gluttonous slut!” The cake’s tone became hard, unrelenting. “You’ll take anything into that whoring body of yours, won’t you!”

“No!” Meljean wailed, “You don’t understand!”

“I understand.” Its voice was cold, filled with dangerous intent. “You’ve given yourself over and over, and yet you’ve never been satisfied, you’ve only experienced a pale imitation of true pleasure.”

Sobbing, Meljean tried to push the cake away. “I can’t have you!”

“You will, damn you,” it gritted out. “Open your mouth.”

Its demand shuddered through her, but she could not find the words to speak. She shook her head wordlessly.

“Open your mouth, you slutty bitch!” It pressed against her mouth in a kiss surprisingly soft and sweet. Meljean’s lips opened on a gasp, and the cake delved deep.

She moaned in ecstasy, and took…and took…

***

“Are you cheating?” Her husband asked a few minutes later. “There’s white creamy stuff all over your mouth. That can’t be good for your diet.”

Meljean blushed. “It was carrot cake,” she admitted.

“I could make a joke about phallic vegetables,” he said, “but I suppose everyone reading this already has.”

“Probably.”

Meljean fell silent, torn between guilt and the sweet afterglow the cake had given her. Hubby searched through the fridge, then looked up with a frown on his face.

“Didn’t you save any for me?”

“It was a forced seduction,” Meljean said. “I had to take it all; I couldn’t resist.”

“Ah, well, that makes it okay.” Hubby rolled his eyes and walked away, muttering about books with bulbous lettering on the covers.

Meljean grinned, and grabbed the box of low-fat brownie mix from the cupboard. “God, I’m such a slut,” she said.

…I think this may be the sexiest part of a woman’s body.

I love women’s backs. Especially on book covers.

…I have determined that this is the sexiest part of a man’s body.

Followed closely by that line of muscle that runs alongside the abdomen down to his groin in a pair of low-slung jeans.

Inspired by this quote in Jordan Summers RTB post:

I can’t tell you how many times I have been reading books where the hero and the heroine are in peril (one or both are severely injured) and then wham, they’re ripping their clothes off and he’s taking her anally.

I agree, I get tired of senseless sex, too. There has to be story and emotion (well, most of the time. Sometimes I just want to read sex. But mostly, I’m over that. I got over that after the 4,587th Mulder/Scully NC-17 fanfic I read.) But still, the “turn her over and do her up the ass?” In hot romance, the heroine seems to standing her ground on this issue….

Courtesy of Meatloaf and YouTube.