Showing posts with label Lucy Felthouse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lucy Felthouse. Show all posts

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Behind the Scenes … Author Promotions


Years ago, I saw a big-name author (who shall remain unnamed) talk about how she received a signing bonus of $10,000, put all that toward marketing and promotions and broke through.

After five years in publishing, I’ve developed a good reader base and strong network of support. Yet, I’m nowhere near the level of plunking down that amount of cash. (It took her longer, too.) Instead, it’s an art of finding quality creative support. There gets to be a time when an emerging and – hopefully – growing author does need that support. While I write, I don’t possess many skills when it comes to technology magic such as book trailers. And sadly, there are things I can forget.

That’s where the help comes in. Now, I’m not talking about my two daughters, ages 8 and 12, who’ll be making swag in our living room, but book tour companies and virtual author assistants who help smooth over the rough patches.

Now, some may not share who helps them “behind the scenes.” Primarily, because the fear is that they’ll become too busy, too popular, to continue to do business. (Let’s face it, it’s happened in the past.) Rather, I hope that by sharing, they get some good recognition, and they remember those recommendations.


On Friday, July 17, my Black Hills Wolves title “Claiming the She-Wolf” premieres. First, let me say that Decadent Publishing is extremely supportive, and recently named one of the best small presses. Likewise, I’ve received strong support from lead editors Heather Long and Rebecca Royce, and my sister writers in the Pack.

There are four outside sources I’ve worked with for promotional help, and I’d recommend them, and have, multiple times, and one new service.

Beckey White with In the Pages of a Good Book (http://inthepagesofagoodbook.com).


One key way to know that Beckey continues to deliver: I’ve recommended her to multiple people, and they keep contracting her. She put together the book blast, the tour with reviews and the trailer for “Claiming the She-Wolf,” in addition to other items such as graphics.

Sheri Vidal with Author Accomplice. (http://www.authoraccomplice.com). 

Sheri works with a lot of authors with bigger names than me. Yet, she makes me feel special and I adore her for it. When I need a hand to hold, she’s there. OK, sounds silly, but having someone who can go through your book and pick out the best quotes for catchy memes is truly a talent! (And yes, she does more than that.)

BTW -- Sheri will be my roommate at #AAD Hotlanta so if you haven't met her, say hi!

Sensuous Promotions (http://www.sensuouspromos.com). 


Let’s admit it, I don’t write in order to be in promotions. I prefer to be behind the scenes. That said, companies like Sensuous Promotions, who put out your new releases and you don’t have to (as much) … are golden.

And here’s the new “in my corner” – Ashley Haines with Ashley’s Addictive Book Promotions (http://www.ashleysaddictivebookpromotions.com). 


Ashley will be hosting “Claiming the She-Wolf” in a review library for six months. While I don’t have feedback on how the process goes, yet, Ashley has been extremely proactive and productive, and I look forward to doing more with her.

BTW – I’ve worked with other tour companies, such as the lovely Lucy Felthouse with Writer Marketing Services (http://www.writermarketing.co.uk), and the vivacious team of the Smexy Fab Four (http://www.smexyfabfour.com), who host an awesome Facebook party. With different books, I often do something different. It helps keep it exciting.

Tired yet? Oh, yes. There’s a lot that happens behind the scenes, in addition to writing. Finally, I’d like to give a big HUGE thank you to everyone for the support, because I truly know that it goes beyond and above.

The romance community is the very best, and I’m happy to be part of it.

Until next time,

Louisa Bacio



     


Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Sapphic Smut: Tales of Lesbian Lust Out Now! #sapphicsmut #erotica #anthology



Light hearted, sexy Sapphic smut is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Lucy Felthouse with assistance from Kev ‘Mitnik’ Blisse.

From coffee shops to exotic Indian adventures to cosy cabins in France, Sapphic Smut has it all. Fun with sugar, naughty spankings, seductions by strangers, seductions by friends, cougars and even a twist on a fairy tale abound in this exciting collection of lesbian stories from erotica’s finest authors.

This delicious girl-on-girl anthology contains stories from Lucy Felthouse, Kay Jaybee, Louisa Bacio, Sallyanne Rogers, Vanessa de Sade, Tabitha Rayne and Elizabeth Coldwell.


Excerpt:

Alana really couldn’t believe how flat Holland was. She’d been told by many people, but somehow, she still wasn’t expecting a place that made Cambridgeshire look like the Peak District. Her view from the train as she travelled from Schiphol airport to Amsterdam’s Centraal Station was unimpeded. Not so much as a hillock was visible.

And now, here she was, standing outside the station with crowds milling around her. A mixture of tourists, businesspeople and natives. She herself was a combination of two of those groups—she was here on business, but she’d deliberately extended her trip so she could spend a couple of days exploring the city. She had a day either side of her meeting, the boring part a filling to a sightseeing sandwich. Though, despite the boring tag, the meeting definitely wasn’t a bad thing, it was an appointment to cross the ts and dot the is on a very lucrative deal—certainly the trip was worthwhile.

After watching the insanity for another minute or so, she began to head away from the station, wheeling her small case along with her. Already armed with a guidebook and a decent map, she knew where she was going. Her map-reading skills were excellent, and she made the short walk to her hotel in less than twenty minutes. Anywhere else, she’d have gotten a cab, but it appeared they were a rare commodity in this city.

She’d checked in, dumped her bags and freshened up within another ten minutes, and was back on the street.

An online acquaintance had sent her a bunch of information for her trip—about the best museums, interesting things to see that might not be in guidebooks, and details on transport. It appeared that Amsterdam was unlike London, Paris and Rome, in as much as it had trams as its preferred mode of transport, rather than underground trains. Only one Metro line ran through the city, north-to-south. Everywhere else was utterly dependent on trams, bikes and being on foot.

And fuck, there were a lot of bikes. They zipped here, there and everywhere, not always staying where they were supposed to be, it seemed. The slim Dutch people atop the bikes were oblivious, just concentrating on getting where they were going.

Alana searched for the nearest tram stop, and quickly discovered she needed to be on the other side of the road to head in the right direction.

Crossing the road was a chore in itself. A dice with death. She’d thought Rome’s motorists were insane, but at least they were fairly predictable. Here, she was faced with crossing a road that held a cycle path, a tram line and a lane for cars. Shifting down the pavement, she stood at the conveniently placed crossing. It still didn’t make things much easier, but at least she could mingle in with the crowd. Traffic was much more likely to stop if it was going to hit a crowd of people than a single pedestrian. Right?

By some miracle, she reached the opposite pavement unscathed—except for her nerves, which were shot—and approached the tram stop. As if by magic, a tram arrived, and it was the correct number. 
Things were looking up.

After a few minutes, she realised that public transport in Amsterdam was nowhere near as easy to navigate as in the other major cities she was familiar with. There, their Tube or Metro stations always had plenty of large, unmissable signs telling you where you were. Piccadilly Circus, Anvers, Piramide. Here, it seemed you were left to your own devices. There were announcements on board the tram, but they were in Dutch—a language which she knew very little of—incredibly muffled, and pretty much drowned out by the sound of the tram’s motion and its passengers.

Louisa Bacio


Friday, August 29, 2014

Naughty Prof – 69 Tales of Submission




I love a good challenge. Rachel Kramer Bussel set the parameters: a kinky tale of submission in under 1,200 words. When you’re writing that short, every word matters!

Let me throw out the caveat, “Naughty Prof” isn’t written from personal experience. As a college professor, I figured I better get that cleared up. When brainstorming the topic, though, there’s that reversal of control. While the teacher rules the classroom, what happens when the student (or in this case, a former student) takes over?

“Naughty Prof” opens with: You say I’ve been a “bad girl” and ask if I want to be punished. If only you knew how naughty I’ve been.

The Big Book of Submission packs together a wonderful collection of authors. Check out treasures from C. Margery Kempe, Erzabet Bishop, Shenoa Carroll-Bradd, Lucy Felthouse, Salome Wilde, Annabeth Leong and so, so many more! Here’s a link to the full Table of Contents.

The anthology is available at most major retailers, including Amazon, B&N and ARe.

Want more behind-the-scenes of these naughty tales? Check out the other stops on the release tour.


All the best,

Louisa Bacio

Friday, September 6, 2013

Writing From the Male Point of View by Lucy Felthouse


In Grand Slam, Lily Harlem and I took it in turns to write a chapter. Lily began writing as Marie, so I naturally assumed the mantle of Travis, meaning I had to write from the male point of view. This freaks some writers out, I know, but it doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, I enjoy it. I’ve done it several times before, for both gay and straight stories, and I like trying to get into the male psyche and try to think about women (or men) the way they think about them, and so on. It’s kind of nice to give my writing a really masculine, testosterone-fuelled slant, and it was particularly fun to write an entire novel that way.

And it doesn’t get much more masculine or testosterone-fuelled than Travis Connolly. He’s a sports star, tennis to be exact, an alpha male and he’s got a dark side when it comes to bedroom activities. My imagination was able to work massive overtime when writing this character, as well as responding to Lily’s chapters and ensuring continuity, etc.

Despite the fact that I wrote Travis, I still find him massively sexy. He’s big, broad, knows what he’s doing on a tennis court and between the sheets. And, despite his dominant personality, he’s not an arsehole and knows how to treat people. I just hope readers will love Travis (and Marie, of course!) and much as Lily and I do. We can’t wait to find out.
*****

Excerpt:

“Some people like pain,” he said, still not looking at me.

“Masochists you mean?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

Shit, was he trying to tell me that he enjoyed the pain the accident had left him with? If so, we really needed to discuss this. “That’s not the majority of people though.”

“No, but more than you think. And some people like administering pain.” He turned to me, cocked his head slightly and moved into the space I’d left between us.
I looked into his eyes. Swallowed and tasted his cologne as it traveled into my nostrils and then laced my tongue. “Would you consider them to be good people, Travis? These individuals that like to hurt others.”

“I’ve known a few people who like to give and receive higher sensations, and most of them I consider to be good friends as well as good people.”

I hesitated, felt his body heat radiating toward me, wrapping around me as I pondered his words. We were close, very close, and his consuming presence made logical thinking much harder than normal. “I’m not quite sure what you’re telling me.”

“You talk about pain like it’s a bad thing, Marie.”

“It is.”

He smiled but it wasn’t a sweet smile, more like one of a hunter who’d spotted prey.

“Pain is unpleasant for a reason,” I said. “Because it’s bad.”

“I disagree.” He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes. It was a challenging, cocky gesture.

A tingle snaked its way up my spine and threatened to wreak havoc in my body by turning into a tremble. But I beat it down. I wouldn’t let a patient get to me this way. I was the one supposed to be holding the reins here.

“Maybe, Marie, you should open your mind to new ideas with a little more grace.”

“I fail to see how I haven’t been graceful in discussing your theory that pain is good.”

“Can we keep it that way?”

“I hope so.”

“In that case,” he flicked his attention from my eyes and looked at my hair, “would you like me to demonstrate?”

Damn, the guy made me feel tiny. Even though I was wearing heels, his broad chest and wide shoulders were looming over me. “Okay.”

He twitched the right side of his mouth into a half-smile. Now he looked like a hunter who’d captured his prey. A trickle of fight or flight seeped into my system. Which would be my best option?

“Now that’s the first rule.” He reached up and undid the clasp holding my hair on the top of my head. It tumbled around my shoulders as the clasp fell to the floor.

“Consent.”

“Doesn’t consent require knowing what you’re agreeing to?” Fuck, with him this close and stroking my hair, spreading it out, I’d pretty much agree to anything. Who was I kidding? Fight or flight was not an option, the only thing that shot through my mind was giving myself over to him. Allowing him to do whatever he wanted, control my body, feed it what it needed.

Damn, it had been too long since I’d been with a man. It was making me desperate.

He slotted his other hand over the left side of my head, the sound of him sliding his fingers over the shell of my ear noisy. My breath hitched and I locked my knees to stabilize my stance. I stared up at him, noting the small shafts of black hair sneaking out of his skin on his chin and the way his bottom lip was a little plumper than the top.

 “You see, some pain,” he said, gathering my hair up at my crown and tugging to create tension on the roots, “can heighten the awareness of everything else going on in the body.”

He pulled harder, forcing my head to tip back.

I gasped as discomfort shot across my scalp.

He increased the pressure a little more.

I reached out and clutched at his shirt, felt his hard chest beneath. “Travis, I—”
“Shh, I’m just showing you.” He slipped his arm around my waist, dragged me close and yanked my hair, really hard.

“Ow, I—” A barrage of sensations blasted through my system. The feel of him pressing up against me, hot hard male, all wide pecs and solid thighs. The pain from having my hair tugged with force, and the awareness that my belly was shoved right up against his groin. A groin that held a wedge of thick flesh.

“Just feel,” he whispered, hovering his lips over mine. “Endorphins are rushing into your bloodstream, giving you a natural high as pain alerts your nerve endings that something exciting is happening.” He slid his free hand up my back, tracing the outline of my spine through my blouse.

I breathed in the air he was breathing out, warm and sweet. The scream of hurt in my scalp made me want to wriggle but being held so firmly and confidently kept me still. The heat of the discomfort slipped down my nape and neck and over my shoulders, then combined with the lovely sensation of him stroking my back.

“Can you feel it?” he whispered. “Pain mixing with pleasure, the lines between the two blurring.”

I could feel it with every fiber of my being. My skin was alive with awareness, my breasts were heavy and desperate for stimulation, and between my legs I was buzzing for action. Good, hard man action, preferably of the naked, sweaty variety. “Yes,” I gasped.

*****

Blurb:

California had seduced me with promises of a new life working at Los Carlos Tennis Academy. What I didn’t expect was the dark, brooding number one seed, Travis Connolly, resisting my help. He wasn’t interested in my psychology skills. Instead his attention was drawn to the edgy, sharper corners of my desires, proving that they existed, setting me challenges and driving me crazy to the point of combustion.

I’m the best tennis player in the world—officially—so why would I need a damn woman full of psychobabble to get me on form? Despite my irritation, however, I can’t resist pushing Marie Sherratt’s buttons even though doing that shows her the darkest shades of my lust, the parts of me I buried deep. So I set her a challenge, one she rises to, one that has me rising too, and before long my game relies on her calling the shots, hitting the target and bending to my will. One thing was certain, being not just master of the court, but also of Marie is seriously good for my soul.



*****

Author Bios:

Lily Harlem

Lily Harlem lives in the UK with Mr Harlem and a host of rescued animals. She is an award winning author of contemporary erotic romance and writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including Ellora's Cave, HarperCollins, Total-E-Bound, Xcite and Sweetmeats Press as well as self-publishing. Her HOT ICE series regularly receives high praise and industry nominations and sportsmen who are talented both in and out of the bedroom often feature in her novels. But whichever book you choose of Lily's one thing you can be sure of is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!


Lucy Felthouse

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres
and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012, 2013 and 2014 and Best Women's Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9