Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Ash's Fire by Callie Gold ♥ Book Tour & GIVEAWAY ♥ (Romantic Mystery)


Smart and successful Attorney Jordan Cohen didn’t expect Sam, her husband and best friend, to invoke their old pact for non-exclusivity. But after twenty-some years together, he did.

A chance meeting with Ari Ash, the tall-dark-and-yummy internationally renowned concert pianist, sends Jordan into his arms. Ari’s mysterious ways and magical lovemaking pull the conflicted Jordan into a whirlwind affair.

When Ari is implicated in an execution-style murder, she wants to believe Ari is innocent, but one troubling fact after another keeps popping up. Jordan turns to the only man she can trust with her lover’s life – her brilliant criminal defense attorney husband.

Is Ari a killer?

When Ari is charged, Jordan fears the worst: a life sentence for her lover, exposure of her affair and the ruin of her law firm and irreparable damage to her husband’s reputation. But she can’t let go of Ari’s love…

With the trial just days ahead, Jordan races to save her lover, her husband and herself.

Desire, suspicion, love and loyalty all clash in the fast-paced Mediterranean city of Tel-Aviv.
“What I should have told you earlier,” Sam looked at her intently, “was that I need to explore some stuff on my own, and that I’m interested in going out with one of the exercise instructors from the health club. I’m not asking you for permission. I’m just letting you know because I don’t want to sneak around, behind your back. But I do need to do this, to see what it feels like.” All these incomprehensible words he blurted out in one breath, and then he took a sip from his glass and closed his mouth. Done.

Jordan stared, trying to make sense.

“You want to fuck your gym coach?” she finally asked.

“Don’t be crude,” said Sam the Fastidious.

“From the health club I signed you up for? So you won’t lose what’s left of your muscle tone?”

“Jordan, stop it.”

“Answer my question,” she snapped.

“I want to have sex with another woman, yes,” Sam sighed.

Jordan saw the hunger in him.

“Spare me your clean-speak,” she said. She stared some more, her hurt rising like vapor from a radioactive swamp. “Why? What’s wrong with the sex we have?”

“Nothing,” Sam said, a little too quickly. “I just can’t live with the idea that you will be the last woman I ever sleep with. And the opportunity presented itself.”

“Opportunity presented itself?” Jordan said, anger solidifying into sharp crystals in her chest.

“Jordan, please. We’ve talked about this many times before. You were okay with it. It was your idea, actually, if memory serves.”

“Theoretical idea,” Jordan said. She knew he was right, but still.

“I don’t want to lie to you,” Sam said. “That’s just something we don’t do. And yes, I want to try something different, I need some variety. We have great sex together, but—”

“But what?” Jordan snapped at her husband of twenty-five years.

“But it’s the same. Has been for years. And I met this woman and she courted me and she’s attractive and we talked, and she invited me and I want to go.”

“So you said yes,” Jordan said, waiting to wake up wrapped in Sam’s arms.

Sam rolled the lazy liquid in his glass. Then he gulped what was left of it, put it on the coffee table. “I love you,” he said.

“Don’t,” she said, and curled tighter into her blanket.

“And I want to know you’re okay with this.”

“You want me to sanction it.”

“Yes,” Sam said gently.

“You petted me like a dog,” Jordan said, her eyes threatening to leak again.

“I didn’t mean it that way, I’m sorry,” Sam looked at her, shaken. “That’s what you felt?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m really sorry, Jordan,” Sam said. “I should have just told you.”

“In our bed? Really?” Jordan asked sharply.

“I can’t win.”
Come for me, baby!
I love reading erotica. But I get seriously pissed off when I read erotica that reads like porn on the page. So let me wail for a bit, and if you agree – go do something about it.
Today’s pet peeve is what I call “orgasms on demand”.
I cannot tell you how many times I’ve read erotic scenes where the guy, a hot detective/billionaire/professor/cowboy utters this ridiculous sentence: “come for me, baby!”. At which point the female protagonist, a correspondingly hot student/aspiring architect/rookie, goes into orbit, screaming “Yes! God!” (his name is Brad or Judd or something, definitely not God), and immediately proceeds to the earth-shattering, cataclysmic orgasm to end all orgasms.
Right? Have you read that scene as many times as I have? Sure you have.
Pay attention, girlfriends: she never says, “not yet! You gotta give me more clitoral stimulation! No, not there, you idiot, three centimeters higher!”
So I hate that. It’s bullshit.
Women do not come on demand. We don’t have a switch that you throw, and then there is light. Males cannot control the arrival of our orgasms, they cannot will it. And unless we give them running commentary like, ‘oh yes, oh yes, here I come!’, they will not know that we’re having an orgasm, until it smacks them on the dick or in the face, depending on how we go about getting it. There are no tell-tale signs, there is no early physiological response, there is nothing that will indicate, “10 seconds to lift off, nine, eight…”. Unless we narrate, they will not know. Period.
So whenever he says ‘come for me, baby’ where she didn’t say a thing right before that, and then she immediately comes – we know we’re being fed pure and utter crap.
Worse than that, when we read a scene like that and accept it as reality, it makes us feel inadequate. Because we know we can’t do it. So what do we do if a new guy utters that stupid sentence in real life? We do the courteous thing; we fake one for him. So he doesn’t feel inadequate. Because we are kind and we were all trained to preserve the fragile male ego. And that sucks, and not in a good way.
Worse yet, we should never be told to aspire to come on demand, because it is nothing more than some spectacular form of praise for our male partners. We are not there to stroke their egos, we are there to stroke for fun.
We should come when it’s right for our bodies. When it feels awesome. When our bodies are ready and happy to jump off that cliff. That’s when.
Okay, so why do our erotica books give us - and often - that “come for me, baby” scenario?
I believe that it’s because our authors have been brainwashed. Yeah, you got it, by men. The ‘Come for me, baby’ scenario is the written version of the oh-so-familiar scene of the barely-legal porn actress whose eyes are closed, her mouth open, and she’s screaming her fake pleasure to the camera, taking in a twelve inch dick in her butt. Porn for men.
And miserably, our erotica has become the softer version of that male-pleasure/male-aggrandizement entertainment (pun intended, or not, whatever).
I guess you figured it out by now that I hate porn, right? Well, I do, because it’s not arousing for women, and when we dare say so, we seem uncool. And political and, God forbid, the F-word. That most un-sexy word in the English language – Feminist.
So listen up: that female protagonist in your erotica novel who comes on demand is not for you. She is essentially an adaptation of the male fantasy. So don’t agree to build your fantasy on her. It’s NOT your job to make men feel omnipotent when you read erotica. Least of all when you read erotica. That girl is UNFIT for female consumption.
What to do? When you see a ‘come for me, baby’ scene in your erotica novel, go shout at your writer (or you can be polite, if you’re not an Israeli, like me). Yell at her, “Are you writing for me?? Really??” And start demanding better fitting erotic writing, writing that is tailored for you – a woman.

Wait for the second part of this post, I got LOTS more to say on the subject… (BIG surprise…).

Don’t forget to leave me comments, questions, hugs, swears, and anything else that comes to your sexy, fertile mind!

Lots of love,
Callie
 
♥ On Sale!  Only for 99¢ for a limited time ♥
Callie Gold is an Israeli married to an American. She admits that marrying her husband was the smartest decision she has ever made in her entire life. Together they have raised three beautiful children.
Callie is a lawyer, and a Jew, and what’s worse – an Israeli. That means that she’s an in-your-face kinda gal. There is no Hebrew word for ‘subtle’. Callie’s husband says that she has too many opinions, and he’s right. But she’s also open and friendly and very curious, and is known to start intimate conversations with the Falafel guy.
Since she stopped litigating, Callie’s husband says she’s become a much nicer person (Callie’s husband is almost always right, which makes living with him really good and seriously annoying, all at the same time).
When she’s not writing, Callie does divorce mediation and marriage counseling, which, she believes will save her a good seat in that place up there. She also cooks and bakes and you will always find home-baked bread in her freezer, next to the chocolate gelato that her husband makes.
Callie writes because writing creates another life for her, a life in which she can do whatever she wants. In order to write she has become a time thief.
Above all, Callie is a lover of people and she can never get enough of human interaction. So feel free to start up a conversation with her!
    
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@CallieGold_Esq @GoddessFish http://goo.gl/ZxxrQ5 pic.twitter.com/Hsh3IUb3IL

10 comments :

  1. Replies
    1. My pleasure! This looks like it's going to be a FANTASTIC trilogy!

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    2. Thank you Lauren!
      Working on the second book now... :)

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  2. I agree with you 100 percent. The way they write that garbage is so unreal.

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  3. wow love the color of the sunset on the cover.and I love the excerpt.

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  4. Thanks for hosting
    I love finding new authors

    ReplyDelete

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