Melange Books, LLC

Comments

1. AngelaQuigley says

   August 1, 2015 at 11:55 am

   Would you look at an athology of literary erotic poetry entitled ‘ Love in the Vernacular’? Readers of ‘Fifty Fhades of Gray’ are waiting for something like this. It has been published by a small independent poetry press in the uk but deserves the wider audience of mainstream adult readers .

   It is a gem.

   The writer has read from it at the Buxton Fringe , England.
   And he is 70 years old with a PHd!

   Best wishes

   Angela

2. Brigitte Guy says

   May 28, 2016 at 6:39 am

   Can I get more information on how to submit and who much if anything it would cost me.

3. Jerine Pace Watson says

   April 29, 2017 at 10:46 am

   THE HEART KNOWS THE WAY
   Sample of part of first chapter
   Chapter 1.

   The beginning of it was no more significant than the rumbling of a distant spring storm. The minute increases in volume were almost inaudible, not even a base line pulsing, so the ensuing events were as memorable as ivory dominoes obediently tipping over with the ripple effect of their clacking submission to gravity itself, no more than a faintly ominous drum roll. Non-invasive, non-threatening. There was no further warning of the strength of the looming turbulence, not even the hint of ozone on a freshet of wind bearing unwilling leaves, prematurely torn, broken communion wafers in the naïve pink hands of children. Innocence has no time to reflect on the experience of others. It rushes headlong, thinking of itself as original, unique, and “only.”
   Mack, whose full name was Jonathan Parks McWhorter, frowned in his half-sleep state as the pilot’s voice booming over the Cessna’s intercom announced their imminent approach in the landing pattern for their destination, Houston International in humid Texas. The only passenger, who was also the owner of the plane, yawned and shook his head gently from side to side, regretfully abandoning a gentle dream he had already forgotten, but for some reason, yearned to remember. His neck and shoulders were slightly stiff and cramped from sleeping most of the night in the airline seat. He regretted not sleeping in the luxurious bedroom in the back of the plane but he had accidentally fallen asleep reading a summary he had dictated reporting his impressions of the branch offices he had visited. Besides, he yearned for a soft feminine body to help him forget the pressures of a family business and at the last minute, Connie had to rush to her ailing mother’s bedside. He hadn’t had time to get in touch with a substitute. The attendant the company assigned to take her place was an older woman. Very capable and razor-sharp chic, he had to admit, but not his style. He had a personal cap on age and it was far below the current stewardess’ number of birthday candles. He yearned for a cup of hot coffee and a Danish.
   Pris Harrison, a senior-level specially trained hostess, walked briskly down the center aisle carrying a small lacquered tray upon which she balanced a dampened cashmere hand towel and an accompanying dry one for Mr. McWhorter’s use to freshen his hands and face before deplaning. There was also a small silver coffee pot with an ornate lid. And a steaming hot cinnamon roll emanating a tantalizing aroma. She had tried to engage the handsome owner of the luxurious airplane in conversation every time she had a chance during the entire flight from Geneva, but he remained indifferent and didn’t even seem to notice her. She had been puzzled when the owner of the plane didn’t take advantage of the king-sized bed in the rear of the plane but he had fallen asleep in his seat the night before, reading a thick document she assumed was part of his required analysis of his tour of the family business outlets he had visited on this southern tour. She sighed and mentally undressed the gorgeous hunk in her mind and felt herself growing moist with desire. It had been nearly two years since she had enjoyed a mind-blowing anonymous sexual experience with no obligations or distracting effects…just great sex. God, she longed to show this handsome stud things she had learned from her hundreds of layovers in different parts of the world! She smiled as she fantasized this Mack-person growing hard in her mouth and experiencing the ecstasy she knew she could give him! She held onto the grips mounted into the back of the seat cushion in front of him and waited, smiling pleasantly, while he gratefully wiped off his sleep-creased face and returned the towels to her tray. She served his coffee and pastry and he never even gave her a glance. The coquettish smile left her face and she sighed, losing interest in trying to attract the man’s attention.
   While she hurried up the canted slope of the center aisle to buckle herself in for the landing, Mack McWhorter sipped on the hot coffee and nibbled on the bear claw. He glanced out the small window and saw lots of greenery down below and immediately began to feel energized and excited, similar to the emotional anticipation of a small child waiting for Christmas morning’s surprises. There was a feeling of intense anticipation but not of anything negative or drear; only the excited, heightened expectation of pleasant events or things to enjoy, particularly another female conquest. Mack was a veritable legend in the realm of gifted lovers and was quite aware of the attendant’s emanating vibes. Women he had conquered or enjoyed were completely overwhelmed by his techniques and his insistence they have at least three orgasms before he mounted them for his own immense explosion and pleasure. He didn’t even mind the fact that his methodology was frequently the subject of many feminine conversations; in fact, he seemed to enjoy his unique type of reputation when he heard an exaggeration of his bedroom prowess that seemed to have a life of its own. He saw no need to correct the inflated details, however. But he always knew when a woman had had previous hints of his stamina and his sexual technique. They always had a special gleam in their eyes and invariably, licked their upper lips in anticipation of tasting his throbbing penis. He was instantly reminded of having the same feeling of “fun-to-come” as that of kids anticipating Christmas morning. He loved thinking of the resulting female conquests he could look forward to, with another yet-to-be-brought-to-melting-pleasure luscious, ripe-bodied young woman. He chuckled to himself as he thought about the memorable beauties he had “almost” become captured by, as he liked to remember it, as if he were a helpless trophy-animal in the wilds of Africa and all eligible young women who noticed him were immediately determined to claim him as their private possession!
   ****************************************************************************************************************
   The above is a portion of the first chapter of my erotic novel – The Heart Knows the Way – using my pen name, E.J. Pace, as author name. Jerine Pace Watson is my legal name and I have been an active freelance editor for many years and have several other contemporary novels completed and edited. Thank you for the opportunity.