I couldn’t be happier to give a warm welcome to Anita Cox, whose series with Liquid Silver Books looks decidedly yummeh! So I’m hosting her here today, looking to discover her secrets, and drool over her new release.
How long have you been writing?
I’ve always loved telling stories, even as a child. Sometimes that resulted in getting my ass kicked by my dad. So I learned to channel that compulsion (to story tell) into something more productive. I’ve been seriously writing since 2006.
What genres do you write besides erotica?
I write crime fiction and paranormal romance under my real name. What? Anita Cox doesn’t sound so made up? It’s my husband’s creation.
Do you write to music? If so what was the sound track to The Beginning, Dirty White Candy, Book1?
Oh hell no. I spent years as a legal secretary so I end up typing what I hear. I wish I could listen to music so I could tune out the chaos in my house. But it would just mean more time editing out the lyrics.
Where do you write?
I have a writing dungeon. It’s in the basement where I can go when I need to focus. Of course, it doesn’t stop the husband from yelling down the stairs so I can come and look at something on facecrack or help him find something. But it helps.
What is your best guilty pleasure? (By best I mean worst.)
The swingers club. We don’t go often but when we do… it gives me plenty of material for the next book. There’s nothing like strutting your stuff around while wearing your latest lingerie purchase and hooker boots. The hubs and I have a blast when we go.
What book do you wish you’d written?
Pfft. Harry Potter because I’d be effin RICH!
You have to jump out of a plane w/ a holey parachute or edit your 100K MS by hand, what. do. you. do?
While I’d rather bludgeon myself with a liquor bottle or visit the gynecologist than edit a 100k MS, I would never jump out of a perfectly good airplane. That’s just bananas.
Do you have a specific writing style?
When I write, I don’t like to pontificate. I don’t enjoy reading flowery language. I tell a story like I’m talking to my best friend. I’m not trying to be the greatest literary mind, I just want to entertain people and the general reading level is I think 6th or 7th grade. So sounding like an arrogant asshat seems…ineffective.
Also, I’m vulgar. I don’t use flowery euphemisms either. If it’s a cock, call it a cock.
Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?
For the love of all that is tits – talk to your sex partners. I did Q & A on my blog for a while because people could post anonymously. So many people are afraid to approach their significant other about their likes, wants, needs, desires etc. If you want your mate to stick a plug in your arse… simply say so. Sex is phenomenal when your partner knows what you like and doesn’t have to guess. Candy learns to communicate sexually. She learns how to seek what she wants.
I hope others adopt some of her moxie. Because she has giant lady berries of steel.
If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?
Crap. Who has a cult following?
Do you see writing as a career?
Indeed. I write under two names, cross-genre. I finally landed my first book contract, though I still intend on publishing some things myself. This is all I do and I take it very seriously. No other job has ever defined me. But this… a writer is WHO I am…down to my very core. There is no other way to describe it. I am an author.
Do you have any advice for other writers?
Read. Read a lot. Read many genres. Follow a social media expert like Kristen Lamb so you’re not being a spammy doucheweed. Don’t make a FB page for EVERY book you write. Just make one for you (a fan page.) Don’t climb on your fellow authors trying to get to the top.
DO get critique partners who are also writers. Your friends and family won’t do. Most of all, just keep writing!
Coffee/Tea? I’m a coffee snob…and addict.
Coke/Pepsi? Diet Coke, by the barrel.
Heels/Flats? Pfft! Heels of course.
BDB/The Order? Say what?
Vampires/Werewolves? Both. But if you make me choose one, werewolves. I get dogs. I get alpha and I am an alpha.
Cats/Dogs? I have both. They are my children. What kind of sick question is this? (The cat, please don’t tell my dogs.)
Fly/Drive? Drive. Because I want to choose who gets to feel me up.
Traded in for a younger, newer model by the only man she’s ever made love to, thirty-something Candy Kavana finds herself craving human interaction of the carnal nature. Shy and sexually repressed, Candy turns to her best friend, Stacy, for advice. And what advice it is!
Candy nervously dives into sex therapy and what she discovers is more than mind-blowing sex. She discovers a side of herself she never dreamed existed. Now that she’s whet her whistle, she can’t get enough. Just how far is Candy willing to take her sexual exploration?
I put a blanket and spare pillow on the couch for Olivia.
“Thank you for everything,” I said.
“Sit down. I’m not ready for bed yet.” She plopped down on the couch.
I really wanted to go to bed, but out of obligation I sat next to her, turning a bit to face her.
“So you’ve never done anything, really?”
“Nope. I gave my husband blow jobs, but that was it. It was missionary position, other than that. I really can’t believe I spilled my guts to you tonight.” It was true. After we’d reached our limit of drinks, I told Olivia everything. “This is so inappropriate. You’re my assistant.”
“Not tonight. Tonight we’re off the clock and I came to your apartment willingly. We’re just two girlfriends who confided over drinks.” She ran her hand along my thigh.
My body instantly reacted. I looked at her hand, then at her.
“So you don’t know whether or not you like women, other than the fact you wanted to touch the girl who was on the table at your friend’s house?” She reached up, running her index and middle fingers over my suit, where my nipples stood erect underneath.
“She looked nice. Soft like silk.” My breath hitched. Should I allow this?
“So, I’m here. I like women, and I find you incredibly sexy. Do you want to try with me? If not, I’ll stop touching you and lay down here on the couch and go to sleep.”
“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted.
“That’s okay. I can talk you through it. But only if you want. You have to say it though. You have to tell me you want to have sex with me.”
I couldn’t utter the words.
Her fingers circled around my knee before they slowly traveled up my skirt. I held my breath until she reached the area that only I had touched for so long. I let out a gasp as her educated fingers swirled around my clit, teasing and taunting with delicate pressure.
“Say it,” she whispered in my ear. “Ask me to fuck you.”
“Please,” I gasped.
“Please, what?” she asked, breathing heavily into my ear.
“Please make me come.” I admitted what I wanted on a gasp.
She removed her hand from my skirt and demanded I lead her to the bedroom.
I did as she asked.