How NOT to write a sex scene by Rhonda Lee Carver

Not that I’m a sex guru or anything, but I’ve written a few heated sex scenes. I’d like to call it a skill in sensuality. I’ve never been much into porn. For me, it lacks a certain passion that I love about sex scenes. I guess we probably all have different ideas of what can be categorized as “porn,” and my definition may even be a bit more flexible than some. As a writer of erotica, I always want to switch it up, while keeping it seductive and sensual.

Here are some tips that I’ve learned along the way from talented authors and editors on how NOT to write a sex scene.

1.       Never compare a woman’s nipples to objects. Just because that certain body part may resemble things like pencil erasers, cherries, bolts, it doesn’t mean it works.

2.       Penis and vagina are words that should only be used at the doctor’s office and not in a sex scene. Talk a about a buzz kill. Imagine reading this, “She licked her lips then sucked on his penis.” Ughh. It almost makes me cringe.

3.        Keep the dirty slang where it belongs, like in prison, and never put it in a romance novel. Men do NOT have a baloney pony or a cunt thermometer. Women do NOT have a bearded clam or fish taco.

4.       When a sex scene is similar to two cats locked in a cage, this may be taking BDSM too far.

BIO: Suffering from years of hopeless romantic notions with sexy, sassy heroines and bad-ass heroes taking residence in her mind, Rhonda decided to write, bringing the stories alive. With baby on hip and laptop on the other, and a couple of years later, Rhonda has published six eBooks with a handful of spicy love stories waiting for the final touches.

When Rhonda isn’t crafting edge-of-your-seat, sizzling novels, you will find her with her children, watching soccer, watching a breathtaking movie, traveling to exotic places, doing (or trying) yoga, and finding new ways to keep her smile bright.

Rhonda thrives on making her readers happy. She believes life can be a challenge, but reading is a place where one goes to get away. Everyone deserves romance—one page at a time…

Can a past love become their future? 

The Thorntons' mansion is full of timeless secrets waiting to be unraveled. When small-town journalist Ivy and ghost hunter Max are stuck in the forgotten, dilapidated house, they find more than just a haunting. Ivy finds herself dreaming of the former owners, Marcus Thornton and his lovely wife, Elizabeth. Their profound love was once the talk of the town, and the cause their mysterious, untimely deaths never found. When Ivy's dreams begin to become reality, the mystery starts to unravel and sheds truth on more than just the past. 

WARNING: Graphic language, naughty ghosts, a non-committal male, and a love that endures beyond time and death.

A Lyrical Press Paranormal Romance

Dreaming Ivy by Rhonda Lee Carver

Excerpt:

Copyright 2012, Rhonda Lee Carver

All rights reserved, Lyrical Press, Inc.

EIvy stepped into the corridor. She stopped and listened. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow sweep across the wall. She turned as it disappeared. “Hello?” No answer. She stomped down the hall and burst into the room. “Hello–”

The room was empty.Ivy swallowed the taste of fright. A shiver raced across her skin. She had seen someone, or had she? She rubbed her eyes. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on her.

A loud crack in the floor behind her sent Ivy twisting. The sun from the window blinded her. She acted on impulse. She drew her fist back and punched–landing on something solid. The force behind her connection with skin and bone sent her off balance, flailing backward. A hand on her wrist pulled her hard against a steely frame.

She met a dark stare, just as she felt wobbling. The impact of her body had sent him a step back. He lost his balance. Together they fell. The air whooshed from his chest as Ivy landed on top of the stranger.

She closed her eyes and remained still. She wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow her. Several long seconds floated by. Neither of them said a word. She finally opened her eyes.

Embarrassed and confused, Ivy laid her palms against his shoulders, pushing herself up. She looked directly into his not-so-pleased expression and gulped. Enchanting green eyes, prominent cheekbones, midnight hair…and a pissed-off set to his jaw. She’d made a mistake–a huge one. “Max Shepard.” It wasn’t a question.

He narrowed his eyes. “Ivy Kennedy, journalist and amateur boxer?”

The deep, rich tone of his voice did funny things to the pit of her stomach. His voice wasn’t the only toned part of him. Pressed together gave her an up close and personal testimonial of his physical assets. Broad chest, tight abs to long legs, she could feel tight muscles and a curious bulge. She scooted her hip around the swelling in his jeans. Heat and realization spread through her body.

One corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s my cell.” Could he see straight through her?

“Cell?”

He reached into his pocket and held up his phone. Ivy was certain her skin changed into the perfect color of mortification. She wondered just how bad this could get. Pasting a smile on her face, she said, “Nice to meet you.” The temperature rose between them into the triple digits. Their bodies seemed to melt together. He didn’t look like the pictures she’d seen on the internet. He looked more distinguished in person. “You’re older than I thought,” she blurted.

“Older?”

“Older, in a good way.” She licked her bottom lip and nervously pushed her hair behind her ear. “My mother said I have a bad habit of saying the most awkward things and rambling–” She swallowed. “–like I am now.” She moved slightly.

His zipper started to swell again. Was that another cell phone in his pocket, or… Before her mind could complete the thought, he wrapped his large hands around her waist and lifted her off him. He set her on her feet as he came to stand in front of her. “That’s better,” he said as he backed up. “Damn.” He kicked rug that must have been the reason behind their fall.

He stood there, silent. This was a complete disaster. She’d managed to give him a black eye to match the dark scowl on his face. She needed to start searching for a new job. Marshall would have her head for this.

WARNING: Light BDSM, kink, explicit sex.

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Dreaming Ivy by Rhonda Lee Carver Available for Sale

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