Tag Archives: writer’s life

Do you have a favorite reading or writing space?

Hello everyone, it’s Jennifer here, and today I have reading and writing spaces on my mind. In particular, my space, which is currently non-existent thanks to building renovation works at our house.

Jennifer Lynne renosWhere does one write when your home is undergoing renovations and everything is out of place and covered in a layer of white dust? Where does one sit and read, without the vacuum cleaner screaming out to be used, a tower of displaced books threatening to topple on your head, or the shrill sound of a builder’s drill interrupting your concentration?

This is my predicament at the moment – thank goodness I have a laptop so I’m somewhat mobile, but my favorite book “space” – that little piece of the world I’d set up to write in, to read in, and basically to tap into and foster my creative side – is no longer there. At this stage I can’t even figure out where my new writing space will be when all the building works are done.

This morning I went to a café à la J. K. Rowling, but the woman who sat down at the table right next to me kept peering at my screen and when you’re in the midst of writing an erotic scene, sometimes that’s just downright off-putting!

Here’s a quick peek at what I was writing in the café…

JenniferLynne_IceQueen_200pxShe sucked in a breath and it was as if she were inhaling sex itself. The scent was rich and heady, like the most subtle and masculine aftershave. Her breath exhaled in a ragged sigh. Why not? It would be one night with a man who could help her forget everything she was, and drown her in this incredible sea of rich desire.

A man who knows your secrets. Or at least some of them. The words whispered their urgent warning across her thoughts and for the first time in years she made a deliberate choice to ignore them.

Without this I am done. There is nothing left to save me from the wasteland of my own darkness. Without this, I might as well be dead.

“Okay then,” she said, hearing the hum of need in her words. He heard it too. She could tell by the flare of light in his eyes and the slight tautening of his muscles as his arms squeezed around her. He could crush her in a second, with those arms, if he so chose. The curved biceps were as big in circumference as her head. The danger was right here, and it was real, and yet her body was coming alive after its long and lonely hibernation. Heat buzzed along her veins and her clit began to throb as a warm rush of moisture dampened her panties. But she felt it fair to warn him. “You know there’s nothing behind this door I haven’t seen. Haven’t already done.”

He shook his head, eyes alight with what looked like mirth. “Oh, Meika. You have no idea. I am Eros. I will make you come without even touching you, if I so wish.”

His fingers reached out toward her cheek and hovered there, about an inch away from her jaw. The heat was palpable and the zing of what felt like an electrical current sent a shiver right through her body. He was right. Not a single touch, and her clit was suddenly so engorged she could feel her pussy lips parting to make way for the swollen nub.

(Unedited) from Ice Queen – copyright Jennifer Lynne

Back to writing spaces…

Photo credit: with permission from Vanessa Carnevale

Here’s where Charles Dickens wrote Great Expectations, among other works. His desk is on display at the Charles Dickens Museum in London.

I read that D. H. Lawrence preferred to write outdoors, leaning against a tree trunk. He said the trees were like “living company”. I’d give that a go, only it’s winter here in Melbourne, it’s wet & muddy, and I’m not exactly the outdoors type!

One of my favorite authors, Jane Austen, wrote some of Pride and Prejudice as well as other renowned stories on a tiny table in the main room of the cottage she shared with several family members. Perhaps I should take inspiration from her experience.

Where is your favorite place to read and/or write? Do you prefer clean and neat, or  is messy more your thing? Do you have one favorite space, or several? Please share your thoughts in the comments below – I’d love to hear about your reading/writing space.


Jennifer Lynne writes short contemporary erotic romance. She is published with Red Sage and formerly with Breathless Press, and indie-published with her GODS OF LOVE romance series featuring erotic Greek gods and modern-day mortals in need of sexual healing. More recently she  co-authored the highly erotic NOT VANILLA series with USA Today Bestselling Author, Roz Lee. Find out more at her website or sign up for her newsletter here.

Typos, the bane of a writer’s life by Doris O’Connor (@mamaD8) #WritersProblems

Hello, lovely peeps, and welcome back to another instalment of my Tuesday Ramblings on here. As the title says I’m talking Typos today.



Those of you who follow me on Social Media will be used to me going back and editing my posts by now, especially on FB. Just don’t check the edit history, because, hells bells, some days I have to go back several times.


My good friend and fellow dirty birdie Raven McAllan has Fibro and refers to her fingers as Raven fingers. She has days where even I struggle to decipher what she’s trying to say, but at least she has a good excuse.

What’s mine, I wonder, other than coming out in sympathy, and my brain not keeping up with my flying fingers that is. It was an error I made when putting up her post on my blog in honor of her newest release, The Rock Star’s Wife, that inspired this blog post.

I meant to put the title as

Singing for your supper.

What I put instead was.

Signing for your supper.


The first I knew of this was, when my twitter notifications came in. I’m part of Triberr, and thus my blog posts get retweeted a lot. By the time I got on my computer to fix the title, I had an e-mail from Raven, giggling at my Doris Fingers, and of course the perma link still went out as Signing…


Oh well, it caused some amusement, at least, but, really… I checked that countless times before I posted it, as well, but you know what they say you’re blind to your own mistakes.

Never is that truer than when I’m in the moment, so to speak. In part I blame it on my over active muse and the fact that I’m always trying to do ten things at once. Especially when I’m on social media. You see, I need peace and quiet to write, so my social media interaction takes place when the kids are around, and in the evenings, with the telly on etc, as the time they aren’t with me is taken up by writing.

Mind you, that doesn’t mean my first drafts aren’t littered with typos galore. Trust me they are and many of them make it into my Typo of the Day status updates.

Hubby, who reads all my first draft material, regularly bursts out laughing, when he’s reading that day’s writing efforts.

Missing words are a firm favourite, or putting down a completely different word to the one I intended, and don’t ask me how many times my characters undergo a sex change. He becomes she and vice versa. It’s amusing for sure, and while my stories will have seen several pair of eyes, before I submit them to my publisher,  mine, hubby’s, mine, Raven’s, and mine again, as I go over her critique points, things still slip in.

I often cringe when I get my story back and read the editor’s comments, namely the ones along the lines of….what are you trying to say here, or did you mean to use this word etc.

*headdesk again*

Thank goodness for editors, that’s all I can say, and still, things get missed, and my head hits that desk again, when I find a typo in my published works with a muttered, “How the heck did we all miss that?”

I don’t know what the answer is to that old problem, other than to go through my final approval copy with  a very fine tooth comb, and to read it on different media, as somehow that throws up the errors more.

Which brings me to my question for you all. How do you as readers feel about typos? Personally I overlook them if the story pulls me in, but, if there are lots of them, and the story is so so, it can mean that I won’t finish reading that story.

How about you? Do they pull you out of a story, or does it not bother you too much. And likewise, I’ve heard it say that it can put readers off when they see Status updates littered with Typos, hence I always go back to edit them, when I notice them.

I like to think my readers chuckle along with me, when I do a booboo like that, but who knows? Maybe you’re just rolling your eyes at my complete inability to control my fingers?


Answers on a postcard please.

Do stay naughty, folks,

D x

Inspiration, mad muse, and cooking @mamaD8 #writerslife

Hey, lovely peeps. Doris here 🙂


I’m going to talk about inspiration today, among other things. One thing a writer always gets asked is where do you get your inspiration from, and I usually say… anything…

I can see you rolling your eyes, and say that’s a cop out, but for me, at least, it’s true. Some of the easiest stories to write are the ones that come from nowhere.

To give you an example: Last Thursday evening, I’m minding my own business, cooking dinner for my brood and a thought popped into my head.

Just one

Bought for Christmas.

Hmm, me thinks, as I’m chopping onions and trying not to cry. That would make a great title for a Christmas Story. I wonder if it’s already taken. So I search Amazon on my phone to check, and nope. No book by that name, not that that’s a deal breaker, but I like to come up with a title that’s not been used a lot before, at least.

I’m at the stage of browning said onions now in the pan, still trying not to cry, because, lordy me that onion was strong. The toddler comes in whining and interrupts my train of thought for a bit, but I manage to make a note of the title anyway, so I don’t forget.

As I’m adding the mince to the pan I start to think. Hmm who’s been bought… Oh I know the heroine. Her brother has lost his shares to their father’s company in a card game and her father’s former business associate is now the majority shareholder. He’s willing to forgo them to have the heroine at his mercy over the Christmas weekend, and oooooooh….

He’s very possessive, so maybe he’s a shifter, and oh he’s scarred down one side of his body and….

Children portrait

Yep, my muse was off. I ran those snippets of ideas via my reader group, which, btw, if you haven’t joined us, then why ever not?


Would love to see you there. We get up to all sorts of insane shenanigans. There’s mancandy and excerpts and lots of rambling like this one, lol.

Here’s the link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/342726622559425/?fref=ts

Now, where was I? Oh yes, I ran the idea past my readers, they loved it, and by the time I went to bed that night I was 1.5 k into the story.

At the point of scheduling this blog, my story stands at 21 K and counting, and I’m hoping to get it into the hands of my beta reader by the weekend.

It’s hot, it’s heart wrenching, and it’s such fun to write.

I love those kinds of stories for obvious reasons. On the other hand the WIP that was pushed to one side for this story, I seem to have been writing in drips and drabs for months now. I love the characters in that one just as much, and I will go back to them once I’ve finished my Christmas story, because I never give up on a WIP. Call me stubborn, lol.

Or maybe it’s just determined. It’s all too easy to allow yourself to get distracted, especially when the words are not flowing, but you know, that’s when you have to keep going. Every word, every sentence added sums up, and eventually I reach a point in a story where I cannot stop writing.

Magic happens then 🙂

Tymber Dalton shared some excellent writing tips this week which you can read here and here, and they really resonated with me.

As you can probably guess from the above rambling, I couldn’t stop writing if I tried, and besides this is my job and I treat it as such. With my youngest now settled at nursery every afternoon I get uninterrupted writing time, and I intend to make the most of it.

So, call it inspiration, determination or sheer stubbornness. I’m a writer and I listen to the voices in my head.

*checks over her shoulder for the little men in white coats*

Now, before I disappear here is a little HAWT snippet from that Christmas Story. Bear in mind it’s completely unedited word vomit, so excuse any mistakes…

Hunter is taking Emilia to his isolated cabin for Christmas and he decides to have some fun on the way.

Wooden ski chalet in snow, mountain view


The traffic slowed and Hunter took over the controls of his car again, leaving the egg to vibrate at just the right setting to keep his girl on the edge. He stopped right under a lorry, as the traffic ground to a halt, and he increased the vibrations again.

Emilia’s little mewls were music to his ears and he adjusted his throbbing dick with one hand while he kept her on the edge of painful arousal.

“Pull your skirt up and let me see how wet you are, kitten.”

Emilia groaned and shook her head, and he yanked that dial up to maximum again. She jumped and whimpered, the fine sheen of arousal covering her skin, as the vibrations no doubt threatened to push her over the edge.

“No coming without my permission, girl, and look at me.”

Her eyes flew open, their usual bright blue darkened by her dilated pupils.

“Please… Sir… he’ll see.”

Hunter knew without asking who he meant. As it happened the Lorry driver wasn’t looking their way, but should he choose to look down he would have a front view seat of his girl squirming.

“So, you better give him a show then, won’t you?” Hunter smirked at her outraged gasp that turned into a full blown moan when he reached across and ran his fingers through her wet slit.

“Hmm, such a naughty girl. If you leave a stain on these seats you’ll be cleaning them, kitten.” He flicked her clit and Emilia went rigid.

“God, please… I need to come, please…”

Oh she pleaded so prettily, his balls drew tight, and Hunter was in danger of making a mess of his own. He withdrew his fingers and licked them clean, and he knew his bear was showing in his eyes, when he grasped her hair and yanked.

She went limp and her mouth formed into a silent ‘O’ when he turned the dial up to maximum again and pulled her skirt up with his free hand.

“Come for me now, kitten and I want to hear you.”

Emilia didn’t disappoint. Hips bucking, she threw her head back and moaned her orgasm, and Hunter’s beast damn near salivated at the sight of her glistening, puffy, pink cunt.

“Open your legs more. Let me see my pussy.” He growled the demand, and his claws ran out, not that Emilia seemed to notice, as she hastily complied.

Seeing her little hole clench in desperate need as she came had him transfixed, and her musk filled the air and sent his beast wild. Not caring of their audience Hunter bent down to taste her, and Emilia jerked and buried her hands in his hair, as she gushed into his waiting mouth.

Fuck she tasted divine. A loud toot brought him out of his sexual daze and he straightened and wiped his mouth glistening in her juices.

Emilia groaned and hastily pulled the hem of her dress down, cheeks flaming as it seemed to dawn her that they were holding up the traffic, and she had just come rather noisily in the slow lane of the M1.

“God, I never…”

She didn’t carry on with that sentence, just buried her head in her hands, and Hunter laughed.

“That was one. There’ll be another one every time we crawl to a stop again, kitten.”


Told you it was fun!

Stay naughty, folks.

D xx


Author Bio:

Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris… at least that’s what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.

There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.

She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

Stalking Links

Website Blog Twitter  Facebook Pinterest  Evernight Publishing

Amazon All Romance E-Books BookStrand Barnes&Noble