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straightspeak we will be back, after we launch a new, erotic romance-mystery website. Coming soon …

Love & Sexcess™

We are immersed in creating a new website in the erotic, romance-mystery genre. Love & Sexcess is in development, and as soon as we have it chock-full of novels, serial novellas, short stories, articles and newsletters, we will introduce it to you and the rest of the world. Coming April 2019. Then we will get back to writing the straightspeak blog.

“Literature – creative literature – unconcerned with sex, is inconceivable.” – Gertrude Stein

Coming soon …

Love & Sexcess is a place packed with sexually charged stories, each with visceral connections to extreme power, deadly crime, obscene wealth, erotic sex and, yes, indomitable love. It is the exploration of success in love and sex and the pursuit of love and sex in the world of success. Love & Sexcess is about getting lost in stories and having access to the latest in love & sexcess news and research while staying on top of what’s hot and wild in the love & sexcess genre.

Love & Sexcess is fiction running on the edge of reality, offering a brief escape from “what is” to “what might be” – a fantasy pause … romantic indulgence.

“Sex is as important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow one appetite to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.” – Marquis de Sade

The launch of Love & Sexcess will include two sizzling hot novels of unabashed romance and intriguing mystery. Both Deadsizing and Conflict of Interest will be available at introductory discount prices.

Deadsizing: A Cougar-Hansen Mystery

Two mysteries: Uncovering the truth behind unimaginable murders and the truth behind irresistible sexual attraction, maybe love.

The only witness to Sheriff Mike Cougar’s secret is the dead Chrystine Goodall, the beautiful wife of Syntex’s CEO. Her murder rips the veneer of a terrorizing truth that explodes into corporate offices across America – is a serial killer assassinating CEOs in an attempt to stop the carnage of corporate downsizing? Mike and his Chief Deputy, the much-too-sexy-to-be-a-cop, Gritt Hansen, must solve two mysteries – the unimaginable truth behind the murders and the truth behind their overpowering sexual attraction. (See excerpt below).

“The only thing more fascinating than the sexy Mike Cougar and the murder mystery is the delicious romance with his irresistible deputy sheriff.”

Conflict of Interest

“Wow! The jet, the yacht … Yale. The only thing hotter than the conflict is the sexual fantasy.”

For Victoria Dyson, Yale Walters is more than an investment risk, he is a torturous conflict of interest between her financial responsibility and her shameless desire. The brash, dangerously sexy entrepreneur has her in a compromising position, and even though she doesn’t trust him, she can’t resist him. In the world of big money, high above the glass ceiling, the seduction is wild, wanton and wonderful … until the fate of their sexual sanctuary depends on the ultimate trust. (See excerpt below).

Both Conflict of Interest and Deadsizing will be available in paperback and ebook at booksellers everywhere.

There’s much more at Love & Sexcess

If you love sexy romance with potent men and daring women, torn between power, money, sex and love, then Love & Sexcess just might be your oasis. It’s like the hidden stacks in the far corner of the library, a place for adults only, and all ‘students’ of love, romance and sex that’s cloaked in mystery and suspense.

Short story bonanza

We’re building a library of great short stories by great writers, and each is short enough to read on your lunch hour, or on trains, planes and automobiles. Here are two examples.

Double Your Pleasure

“What a story. Filled with youthful romance, lust and sex, and a wonderful love story in the face of adult reality.”

Identical twins, Jackie and Jodi, hold onto a lifetime secret after romping through university as devilish hot, unbridled campus queens who love switching boyfriends and diarizing every intimate detail. Until Harry. Harry falls in love with them, oblivious to the twin’s constant switching, never knowing the difference. The twins love it, excited that he can’t tell the difference as they explore how identical they really are. It’s the ultimate love triangle.

Deep Seduction

“The only thing more visceral than the fear is the love.”

Brook Taylor and Bryce Mack met out of the blue, in the deep blue, when she rescued him off ‘the wall,’ far below the coral reef on the edge of the abyss. In those frightening moments, as experienced SCUBA divers, they rose from the depths of hell to the heights of heaven––life itself. Then they began a journey of discovery that goes way beyond the fathomless currents of the ocean and the bounds of sexual fantasy.

They explored everything from the wonders of the deep to the deep wonders of eroticism and uncovered their own deep need for love. Then one day, on a deep dive, they faced losing everything.

Try it, you’ll like it

When Love & Sexcess launches in April 2019, subscribers will receive:

  • Discount pricing on all books.
  • Monthly short stories. The first, Double Your Pleasure, will be available free as an introductory offer.
  • Deep Seduction, the first weekly serial novella (a chapter a week) will be free to subscribers, as will all novellas.
  • The Love & Sexcess newsletter and articles will bring you news and views on ‘everything you ever wanted to know about sex and success and forgot to ask.’

It’s all coming soon! And if you’re a subscriber to straightspeak you will receive pre-launch notices and promotional offers before the general public.

Sneak preview: Conflict of Interest excerpt (3 minute read)

Victoria crossed the expansive boardroom, trying to suppress the rhythm of her heart, the rise in her breathing and the stirring of her femininity. The unwavering eyes of Yale Walters drew her in, almost willing her over the Persian carpet. He shook her hand, placed his other hand on top of hers and said something. She said something. She heard nothing. But his eyes said everything. And her inner-spirit danced across every erogenous nerve-ending of her body.

This was a repeat performance, a recurring dilemma every time they met. She’d met many wealthy investors, powerful CEOs and egomaniacs, all legends in their own mind, so last week when her boss, Carl Kennor, Chairman of Kennor Capital, had invited her to a meeting she had no expectations. He’d said, ‘Yale Walters is brash, brilliant, a born winner and charming as hell.’ He was definitely brash. And brilliant. And a winner – as far as she could tell. But charming didn’t come close to describing him and drop-dead gorgeous was an inadequate cliché. He was tall, six-two … three. Lean. Athletic. His taut chest and shoulders looked like they wanted to escape his custom-tailored suit, and his thick, dark hair and firm-edged jaw framed the most intriguing smile she’d ever encountered. And his eyes were like warm pools of deep brown, maple syrup, sweet, and yet dangerous to a woman’s health. Since they first met, the sexual tension in their ‘strictly-business’ relationship had been, for her, one helluva conflict of interest.

He took a seat at the table. “Victoria, I was just telling Carl about our pending problem.”

Our problem? Or your problem? His eyes held her as if she was the only person in the room. She looked away, nodded at her boss and gathered her thoughts. “Carl filled me in. You need the first $100 million tomorrow. But we still need your personal disclosure forms before we transfer funds.” She stood on the opposite side of the table and exhaled slowly, trying to sound cool and detached, despite her swelling heat.

He didn’t miss a beat. “You both know this is a one-time opportunity.” He looked at Carl, then her, eyes penetrating, sensing her rising pulse. “But we have to move quickly.”

Carl said, “It’s up to Victoria. It’s her project.”

She tamped down her erotic response as he explained to Carl the urgency of closing the half-billion-dollar deal. She watched. When he was intense, she saw sexual prowess; when he was calm she saw sexual sensitivity. For her, everything was visceral – and a problem. She was a clear-thinking, tough-minded investment manager and he was just another client … except he wasn’t. Since they’d first met, he was the source of sexual fantasies like she’d never had before, and struggled to control.

She worked with good-looking, powerful men all the time – admittedly, none as potent – and sexual tension was to be expected, as long as it didn’t get in the way of the only emotion that mattered, the love of money. She had in the past, indulged in flirting, some dating, and unattached sex. But this? She couldn’t explain it. Or deny it. Or control it. But she must. Because in the investment business there was a Biblical rule; money rules, not emotions. Sex, yes; anything more, forbidden. And with Kennor Capital investing $400 million in Yale’s acquisition, he was off limits, out of bounds … forbidden. Relegated to fantasy.

During their meetings, his brashness and brilliance were on full display and as they’d worked on the deal she’d been able, so far, to manage her flights of sexual fantasy. Like now, as he made the case to Carl she watched every movement. Eyes, hands, standing, sitting, leaning, stretching, frowning, smiling … hard questions, soft words. He was convincing, confident … and all consuming. As always, she was moved. And moist.

He asked. “Victoria, do you not see the imperative here?”

She didn’t. Other than the imperative to sexually devour him. “No. I see an acquisition stalled because of the need for critical paperwork. And – ”

“Fuck.” He hit the table with his hand.

She’d fantasized about that hand many a night. And whenever he said ‘fuck,’ she instinctively wanted to shout, yes!

His eyes went black. “What the fuck is it with paperwork, paperwork, paperwork?”

She saw the urgency. Had seen it before in clients. All demanding until they realized who controlled the money. She did. And it was her leverage over him, she was in charge – the image distracted her. She might be in charge, but she wasn’t in control. She said, “Whenever you’re available, I’m ready to get the documentation done.”

He rose to his feet. “How about tonight, my office – seven?”

As he stood, her mind stood still. He seemed even taller and thicker, rising above her like an athlete on a platform, a winner – strong, confident, victorious. A hunk of sexual pleasure. From the midst of her distraction she shot a reply. “Seven works.”

“See you then.” He shook Carl’s hand, then hers.

His handshake was different. Everything about him was different.

Sneak preview: Deadsizing excerpt (5 minute read)

Gritt said, “Speaking of beer …”

“Who me?”

“What say I buy you a beer over at Frankie’s one-night?”

“What? Like a date?”

“Nah, no date. Just an off -duty chat.” She saw the spark in his eye. She liked that. She wanted to see more of his fun side. Get past the sheriff shit. I wonder what the real Michael Cougar is like?

He grinned at her reclining on the sofa. “You know what they say about dating?” His eyes filled with mischief, like a teenage boy asking a knock-knock joke.

“What do they say about dating?”

“A date is just an interview for sex?” His eyes dropped.

Was he being an embarrassed teenager? Or her boss, avoiding her gaze as he skated too close to his adult-only thoughts? It was playful. She liked it. “Sure. But how many interviews does it take? One? Three? Ten?”

He smiled. “Seriously. Think about it. If you go back over all your dates, I’ll bet you can count the number of interviews – and they’re different for different guys.”

“Depends on a lot of things. If – ”

“The thing is, the woman is always the interviewer, the guy the interviewee and – ”

“Not necessarily,” she said. “I’ll bet you’ve been the interviewer on many a date. I’ll bet there’s been dozens of women applying for a job – sex – with you. Hell, if – ”

“Not really.”

She saw a melancholy in his eyes. A memory? A good one? A bad one? “Com’on Mike. Divorced as long as you’ve been, the line-up has gotta be around the block … a good-lookin’, gun-toting, handsome catch like you? Hell, your dog Billy can’t fill all your needs. If I was betting – ”

“Yeah, but you’re not betting. And you sure as hell wouldn’t want to bet on me. The only catching going on in my life is criminals. And right now, I ain’t doing so hot on that end either.”

“You telling me you’re not doing so hot on the woman front?” She said it lightly, watching his eyes. With his looks, brains, build, he could have any woman who’d want him – and who the hell wouldn’t want him? If she didn’t work for him … OMG. Ever since that first lunch, she’d struggled to relegate her sexual fantasies of him and lock them up in a corner of her mind. And as the police work had intensified, she replaced them with a mantra of ‘mutual respect’ – to dampen her desires.

“There is no woman front. I’m not shopping, not buying. It’s a fool’s game.” As much as he didn’t want to sound cynical about women, the curiosity in her blue eyes urged him on. “After a stupid, empty marriage, you’d think I’d have learned a thing or two. No, not mister hot-shot sheriff, mister mystery solver. Hell, if ever there was a mystery that can’t be solved, it’s women – no offense.”

“No offense taken.”

“I’m done. Had it. There’s a lot to be said for being single. I can’t fathom ever again being … wanting to be – ”

She stood up. “I need another beer – you?”

“Uh … sure.”

She’d interrupted him. It was a reflex action. Did she do it on purpose? Didn’t want to hear his proclamation? She headed for the kitchen. “Keep talking. I can hear you.”

He watched her walk – stride – into the kitchen … so graceful, supple, sexual. Even in that less-than-complimentary uniform her Olympic goddess body was so obvious. “No more women. No more dates. But I’ll take you up on the free beer.”

She was back holding two, cold Genesees, standing next to his leather recliner. “This free beer? Or the one I’m offering at Frankie’s?”

“Both.”

She curled up in the corner of the sofa, long legs tucked under her. “I hear a lot of cynicism … for a single guy who I assume has not been in a serious relationship for … how long?” He wasn’t looking at her, just staring into the beer can. “Actually, you sound more like a guy who just got dumped.”

“You know what I can’t figure out? What’s missing…. Motive. There’s no goddamn, fuckin’ good reason for someone to kill her.” His eyes turned from the beer to her.

She saw the pain, the questioning. She went to him. Sat on the arm of the chair and put her arm around his shoulder. “We’ll get the bastard.”

He leaned into her. Felt her warmth. Almost rested his head against her. But didn’t. Instead, placed his hand on her knee.

Geez. She suppressed her involuntary reaction.

He gently patted her leg. “I know, I know … we’ll get him. But that’s not going to help her much. One of your silly clichés would work here … too little, too late.”

He was sad, heavy sad. She wanted to run her hand through his hair, pull him close, ease the ache. Instead, she squeezed his shoulder. Just once.

He looked up and pressed his fingers into her leg. “I trust you Gritt.”

She brushed her hand across the back of his neck. “Always … you always can.” She pulled on his shoulder.

He put his beer down and put his other hand on her hip. “We must trust each other … or this case will eat us up.”

She stood up. She needed separation. Didn’t want it, but needed it.

He saw strength and determination as she rose, it was as if she was stepping up on the Olympic podium. He stood to face her, taking her hands. “I know the sheriff isn’t supposed to hold hands with his chief deputy but … just for a moment. Think of it as a double handshake.”

“Yes sir.” Addressing him formally didn’t subdue her rising flush. She wasn’t sure if it was obvious in her face, but it was racing through her body. I never should’ve sat next to him, touched his neck … I just care about the state he’s in. “What can I do?”

“This case … Goodall. It’s going to get worse before it gets better – much worse. I need you – us – to be focused, in sync … on the same page.” He took a deep breath. “And the death of Chrystine is going to get very complicated and – ”

“I understand.” She didn’t, but felt his grip tighten and his eyes soften as he mentioned Chrystine Goodall. She squeezed his hands. The urge to pull him in was almost uncontrollable. She stretched up and kissed his cheek. It was more than a peck, but less than she wanted. “I do, I do understand.” She saw warmth and strength in his eyes – and vulnerability.

He let go of her hands, but not her eyes. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me … to this department. I’m counting on you … to help me nail this bastard, no matter what.”

It was a plea. His intensity filled her, shutting everything out. It was as if she was back on the Olympic podium, an overwhelming sense-of-strength and happiness coming together, except it wasn’t a podium, it was his living room and he was standing next to her. She liked it. Very much.

He blinked. “Another beer?”

She almost said yes. “Nah, I should get home. Can’t be late tomorrow. Damn boss is always in early.”

He headed to the kitchen. “He won’t give a damn. You could walk in at noon and he wouldn’t care. He knows you need downtime, some fun.” He looked back over his shoulder, I’m not your boss, I’m not a sheriff, I’m just a guy who wants to be with you, who needs some downtime, some fun … with you.

To avoid a complete collapse of self-discipline, she buckled on her gun belt, hoping it would help restore a sense of professional conduct and stop her from straying any further into personal fantasy. “I’m exhausted. Love to stay … but – ”

He stopped, one hand on the refrigerator door. “Why is there always a but? Life has too many buts. But … maybe your right. I’ve got an early morning meeting with a big pain in the butt, my ol’man.”

“Sorry about that.” Any meeting with his dad could be agonizing. “We’ll do it again, soon. At Frankie’s.” She walked toward the front hall, distancing herself from her undeniable desire. His lean frame, silhouetted against the white kitchen, plus the disappointment in his tired eyes, were begging for a hug.

His thoughts followed her long strides, down the hall. The last thing he remembered was the mesmerizing motion of her holstered Glock 9mm riding on her perfectly shaped hip, in sync with her perfectly undulating butt. He called out, “See you in the morning.”

“Night.” See you in my dreams.

For the rest of the story … you will have to visit Love & Sexcess (coming April 2019).

By |March 2nd, 2019|0 Comments
Exactly how much of nature can we trash and burn and get away with it?
Philip Anderson, Nobel laureate physicist, Princeton
The human species lacks any goal external to its own biological nature.
Edward O. Wislon, Pulitzer Prize winning American biologist
There is nothing man won't do to avoid the difficult task of thinking.
Thomas Edison
We humans are capable of greatness ... but we are making a mess of our planet and becoming a danger to ourselves.
Carl Sagan
Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it.
Edmund Burke

“People are the worst”

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Five Generations to Freedom

My personal history is the stuff they write books about. And that's what I am doing. The working title "Five Generations to Freedom."

It's historical fiction because, unfortunately, I can not find enough records to substantiate all facets of the story. I've combed the genealogy, traveled to my father and grandmothers' birthplace, walked the graveyards, searched the churches and ... well, the facts just aren't there. I have written three books based on other families and their genealogy but my ancestors emerged from a journey that left few records – slavery.

My great grandmother, on my father's side, was a "freed slave." My grandmother, Amelia, was born to a white, French plantation owner in Grenada and a black slave named Mary, who worked on the Count de Poulain's plantation. Amelia was raised in her father's home and in adulthood, in an attempt to escape her black heritage, she "disowned" her mother Mary. Once, when Mary visited her daughter, Amelia told her, "Get out and never come back." And Amelia, as a mother herself (twelve children), told all of them, "Marry white." And many did, including my father. My mother was white Anglo-Saxon protestant born in England. They met in Canada where dad became a doctor.

It has taken five generations for the descendants of Mary (we do not know her last name) to free themselves from the bondage and stigma of their black heritage. But today, my children embrace it and are damn proud of it. Unfortunately, the 150 years in between has been a wasteland of bigotry, racism and bullying, Filled with anger, rejection, shame, fear, violence, murder and ... love, romance, kindness, perseverance and pride.