My Sexy Saturday: Their Sexy Gaze

We're starting our holiday* promo. This week's theme seemed apt, given the cover.

The shoot for this photo was a blast and the boys were just great.

And we have some sexy, lovely holiday stories under the cover.

*"Holiday" at Inkstained Succubus is an inclusive term. It covers Samhain/Halloween through Epiphany/12th Night, inclusive. Christmas is one of many. We regret to say there are no Hanukkah nor Eid stories in the anthology. None were submitted.

Buy Links:

Candle In The Dark ebook from Inkstained Succcubus
At Amazon in Kindle or Paperback
At All Romance Ebooks

From "Savor," in which Patrick receives a mysterious invitation to dine at the most exclusive restaurant for men. His server, Gio, encourages him to Savor the experience. 


Your Seven Sexy Sentences:

We met fifteen years ago, when I was on a blind date with someone else. He was a new chef and had come out of the kitchen to greet and mingle with the customers. When he came to our table to introduce himself and ask how the meal was, my date gave the same old standard reply, “It's great.” When Greg looked at me, our eyes locked and I went on for at least thirty minutes about the brilliant flavor combinations, especially the pastrami taco with the spicy cabbageslaw, pickled onions, and chipotle aioli.

The two of us became so involved in the discussion of Mexican food that my date ended up leaving. I stayed until the restaurant closed. We sat in the empty restaurant drinking some of the best margaritas, feeding each other scraps from the kitchen, and talking about nothing of great importance.

The Other Sexy People: 

SOS to our Readers and Writers and Reviewers

We're getting the audiobook section of the business underway.

In order to build producers' interest in the books, we need reviews. There is not one Inkstained Succubus Book that has more than three Amazon reviews. Reviews and ratings drive how many people see a book.

So we, the publishers, are asking you, the authors and readers, to help us out.

If you're in an anthology, review the other stories in it. If you've read our books, leave some stars and a couple sentences at Amazon.

Word of mouth is the best advertising. (and for our authors it means more sales and more money)


Reviewers:

If you are interested in review copies, drop me a message.


Even while the Website is down,
you can find us at
Amazon
Square Marketplace
All Romance Ebooks

A Moment on Christmas from the Lost Laboratory

Hiho, the Mad Scientist here.

Let's talk about Christmas.

Let's talk about Christmas as a pagan in America. I know you've heard a lot about this, but I'm fairly certain you haven't heard my thoughts, or anything like it for that matter.

Here we go.

Christmas is probably my favorite holiday. For those of you joining this program already in progress, Pagans celebrate yule. I'm not supposed to celebrate Christmas. I am an avid member of the "War on Christmas", or so I'm told as I haul out the three giant tubs of decorations. But I love the holiday with all my little black heart.

My family is ridiculously drama-filled. There were entire years Paw didn't talk to the rest of the family. Without splaying my family drama all over the internet, let's say the rest of the year was...stressful. But my mom did one thing for me I will never blame her for. We had umpteen million boxes of Christmas stuff. We decorated like we were COMMITTED to the idea that Santa was going to see us from the North Pole. Dad got her a revolving Christmas Tree stand because she hated the idea that some of the ornaments would face the wall, and she'd sit there decorating while it spun with it's 10000 lights and just find a branch. I have no idea how she did it. I have one 20 gallon box and my tree already looks full. She had three.

But it wasn't the decorations. It was the stories. We had ornaments and decorations from 4
generations of our family, and I heard the stories every year of where each one was from, or who bought it, or some story about the family member who it was bought for. She'd put on the record player (yes, with the spinning and the needle) and listen to old Christmas albums and have Dad make a fire. He was the one who always insisted on the Spiced Cider in the crock pot. Christmas was a time for me when the rest of the year fell away. The whole family would come together, and the presents would pile halfway up the tree, and nobody had a bad word to say to
anyone else. Nanny would spend half the day tasting the dressing to make sure it had enough sage, and Paw made the best fudge while the cousins sat in a corner and gossipped with each other. Nanny would sit in her favorite chair, wearing a brilliant silk mumu (because on my Nanny, it looked like a queenly robe), and her legs all twisted up under her so she could hold court. My mom would always refuse to open her presents until last because once they were opened she felt like it was over, and she'd always laugh and bat at her brother when he gave her heck for it. It was a safe sanctuary, teaching me what the concept of a "sacred time and place" were.

Now, as an adult and a pagan, I get reminded every year how Christmas isn't my holiday. How I'm supposed to remember how consumerist it is. How Christians hijacked my holiday and how depressed it makes everyone. How stressed this holiday makes people, and how I should simplify and not bother. And I've finally had enough.

Tradition can be defined as "the handing down of statements, beliefs, legends, customs,information, etc., from generation to generation, especially by word of mouth or by practice." Christmas is my tradition. It meant a sacred time and place where the family came together and shared a roaring fire, and gifts, and love. I may no longer celebrate the birth of Christ, but since it didn't happen in December anyway, it doesn't really matter. It's a cornucopia of my traditions all bundled together - the tree, the yule log, St. Nick. This is OUR HOLIDAY, pagans. So they gave it a different name. We appropriate things all the time in society. And I want to share that idea of something sacred, and loving, and perfect with my family now that I have one. Taking time out of the year to say, "Okay. That sucked. But we're all still here, and we love each other, and we're going to be okay."

Stop the "War on Christmas". Take it back. It was ours, and we need to stop running from reclaiming it. Have Yule. Have Christmas. Have it for our reasons. Take it back.

Just some Christmas thoughts.

I'll be in tow!

Gabriel Belthir
First Mate and Mad Scientist

p.s. On the subject of Christmas decorations, let's start a movement for the embrace of artificial Christmas trees, people. It's representative decorating, because let's be honest. It's not the pagan way to celebrate a holiday by watching a plant slowly dying in your living room. Seems a little contrary, no? So save a tree. Buy an artificial one.

Gabriel

As many of you know, Gabriel, our First Mate and Mad Scientist, has been having a lot of health problems.

We haven't expounded on them. He has bad teeth, the result of incompetent dentistry.
Several of these have become so severely infected that even several courses of antibiotics have not knocked it back.

Tomorrow, Gabriel goes in for oral surgery. With these bad teeth gone, we hope his health will improve and he won't spend a week prostrate with pain, looking as if he has the mumps every time a pressure system moves through.

Any good thoughts you can send tomorrow afternoon would be appreciated.

My Sexy Saturday:Something About Sexy

(we're late today because your captain got tangled in the safety harnesses and getting me free was a bit of a chore)

Hungry Hearts Ebook from Inkstained Succcubus

Your Seven Sexy Paragraphs:

From "The Graveyard Angel":

“I'd sort of worried...that I’d imagined you.”

He stood and spread his wings, shining like polished seashell in the moonlight. “Quite real, I assure you.”

Tentatively, Emily rose and reached out to touch his chest. He had been sculpted with a bare torso, a delicate waist-wrap draped to his calves, and white hair that curled around his ears. The flesh beneath her fingers was cool, but solid.

“It's just...during the day time, the thought of you seems fainter. It grows thin...” Her fingers traced back and forth over his sculpted chest, up to the collarbone, then down over his pec, her hand gliding across his smooth skin like vapor on a pond.

Ian's pale hand closed gently over hers.

Emily stepped closer, looking up into his beautiful face, her gaze coming to rest on his artful lips. “I’m just glad I didn’t dream you.”

His wings came down to cradle her. “I’d be happy to be dreamt by you.” He leaned down and kissed her, pressing his perfect lips against hers.


The Other Sexy People:

Money Money

Quarter Three Royalty statements are out.
Those who are paid by Paypal should have their money. Checks will be written after work tonight and head out in tomorrow's post.

Sales were better than ever this quarter, although we did have to cancel a personal appearance because of illness. Keep promoting your work.

Tweet.
Post.
Tell people you have a book.
Ask friends to review it.

The holidays are coming and books make great gifts!

squareup.com/market/inkstained-succcubus is the marketplace.
We are also available through Amazon and  All Romance Ebooks.

My Sexy Saturday: All about Sexy

In keeping with our featured author, here is a clip from "Misfit Prophets Beneath a Bankrupt Sky."

Misfit Prophets Beneath a Bankrupt Sky ebook from Inkstained Succcubus

Blurb; Isaac's rich father arranged to have his son's lover beaten to death. Instead, the men fell on Isaac. Now comatose, Isaac has discovered a new skill and it's up to his beloved Raymond to find a way to make a new life for them,


Your Seven Sexy paragraphs:

Amelia had left for a moment to grab something to eat from the kitchen and Raymond’s thoughts were drifting, the book he had been reading to Isaac falling unnoticed into his lap. He stared at a picture of a schooner sailing a stormy sea on the opposite wall, losing himself in the roiling swirls of gray and blue. Raymond was wondering what it felt like to be on that wave-tossed deck, and feeling more than a little seasick, when he said, “I really don’t think you would need to hold back my hair, Isaac.”

He blinked and turned to face Isaac with a look of numb surprise.

“Did you say something?”

He swore he had heard something, and he held his breath, wishing with all of his heart that it was true – that he hadn’t imagined it as he had so many times before. There was always the hope that Isaac’s status would change, that through some miracle he would wake up the Isaac he had been, even after so long. But the silence remained unbroken, Isaac lying as silent and still as always.

Raymond sat back in his seat with a sigh, lifting the book back up and trying to focus on the words before giving off a huff of frustration. “This book is as dull as dishwater, Isaac. If I have to read another chapter about the beauty of Madame Olenska’s gloves, I am going to kill myself.” He tilted the book to stare at the sedate cover, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “It’s no wonder this guy isn’t getting laid.” Raymond smiled fondly in remembrance, chuckling wistfully under his breath. “I had you in my hand by our second date.” He paused a beat and then said, “No, it does not make you sound easy, so quit trying to tell me I am a liar.”

Embarrassed to find that he was talking to himself again, Raymond fell silent once more. As the minutes ticked by, he scrunched his face in concentration, as if tuning in to something just beyond his hearing. Then his eyes widened and he stumbled to his feet, the chair he was sitting in thrown back and the book falling from nerveless fingers to land with a thump on the carpet.

“I’m going crazy,” Raymond muttered, pacing on the carpet as he ran his hands through his hair. A few beats later he said sharply, “Of course I am, Isaac! I’m hearing things! And my hair does not look ridiculous like this!”

The other sexy people: