Welcome My First Guest Blogger, Becke Martin Davis!

My novella Until Emie releases today and to help me launch my debut into the publishing world, I asked my dear friend and critique partner, Becke Martin Davis to come and post a blog.

*She knows I’m freaking out and can’t manage one myself*  

Not only is she incredibly talented, gorgeous, and giving, but she likes my writing! If it weren’t for this woman, I wouldn’t have had the courage to submit my little story anywhere.  This book is dedicated to her even though it’s not printed on the inside cover (oversight on my part) I wanted everyone to know. Love you, Becke!

“A Cut Above: Until Emie is Released Today!”

By Becke Martin Davis

“I’m picking up my bags now. I should be home in about an hour depending on traffic. Did you send a car?”

She barely registered his reply when a strong hand covered hers over the handle of her luggage. She glanced down and a charge of hot awareness shot through her. The thick scar winding its way from the index finger to streak a path under the palm belonged to only one man.

Shit, no! I’m not ready. Emie looked into the hard steel grey of the eyes she had never seemed to escape. Panic threatened her reason.

“You look disappointed to see me, Emie. I’m hurt.” Without asking, Cut took the phone from her. “I’ve got her, Richard.” He ended the call with four words.

***

It was early in 2008 when I attended my first meeting of the Ohio Valley RWA chapter, and I was a little nervous. A newbie to fiction, I had printed up the completed drafts of my first two stories, eager to compare notes with other writers.

Like a newbie, I sat in a back corner so I could observe without drawing any attention. I wasn’t alone. Sitting next to me was a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman who also had a printout in front of her. We eyed each other eagerly, but a little wary, too. She had a great smile and, like so many of my friends, was a whole lot shorter than me. I felt like the Jolly Green Giant, but her friendly smile instantly won me over. We exchanged introductions – Becke, Rosie – briefly and in whispers, since someone was talking at the front of the room.

“Did you bring a story?” I asked, nodding at her pages.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “Did you?”

We passed our manuscripts over, trying to be subtle about it. I think her eyebrows raised a bit at the number of pages in mine.

I didn’t want to be rude to the speaker, but I was eager to sneak a peek at the story. Although I had been a garden writer for many years, I was brand, spanking new to fiction and had no idea if I was on the right track. I was desperate for a critique partner, and hoped I might have found one.

I slipped on my reading glasses and opened the story to page one. I liked the title: UNTIL EMIE. I started to read. “The arrival gate at Houston Intercontinental was unusually quiet. For once, Emie and the stream of weary travelers made it through without the persistent paparazzi mowing them down.” I was intrigued.

I gave Rosie an encouraging nod and read on. My face began to heat. The hero was named “Cut,” which for some reason I thought was freaking hot. He had a sexy scar, and with about a dozen words I knew he was going to be Alpha with a capital A. I think I may have started to pant at that point. I know damn well I was blushing.

“Holy shit!” I whispered, as my eyes bugged out of my head. “This is really good, but, uh, I can’t read it in public.” Rosie reached to take it back and she had to tug a bit before I would let go. “Wait – I really want to read it!”

“You like it – really?”

“Yes!” I guess my expression convinced her (I may have been drooling a little.)

Her smile was so bright it practically singed me. “I’ll email it to you.”

We’ve been critique partners ever since, but I got the better deal. Her story was almost ready to go, while I was still “learning by writing.” Rosie must have waded through a million words of mine, for which she deserves a medal (or a night with Gerard Butler, and I know which she would prefer).

I was thrilled when Rosie aka Gabriella sold UNTIL EMIE to Red Sage, but I wasn’t surprised. I knew from the first page that she was going to sell this story. It seems as if it’s taken forever, but it’s really only been a matter of months. September 1, 2010, UNTIL EMIE by Gabriella Edwards goes on sale. It’s definitely a cut above!

I’m not a betting person, but I guarantee this is only the first of many stories by this hot new author, and I do mean hot! I hope you enjoy the story as much as I did. But, take my word for it, you’re going to want some privacy – or most of you will. If you’re into an audience? Just wait until you read her next story!

Becke Davis, writing as Becke Martin

http://www.beckemartin.com

Boy Howdy! What Makes an Erotic Scene Tick?

 What makes an erotic scene tick? Hot sweaty animal sex…is that it?  I’m thinking yes, but then again I have a tendency to write my stories around sex scenes, which never fails to leave me in a huge rut.  However, when I come up with a fairly decent story (so my critique partners and editor tells me) I don’t want to admit I think in terms of sex scenes. I’m a romance writer who wants to make the story memorable. I have to add juicy conflicts, and compelling motives, and sweeping character arcs.  

Never mind!  Let’s get back to the sex! 

Okay, so boy meets girl. Boy thinks girl is hawt…girl thinks boy is hawt, and then they have at it. 

IT!  Dun, dun, dah! 

They do the nasty, get it on, make the beast with two backs, or three or four if it’s a… ménage.  *blink, blink*

Where was I? Oh, right!

What makes it…sex…right for the story?  How do sex scenes escape gratuitous status? How do they propel the story forward? These are all the considerations I have to take in when I’m constructing an erotic romance. I can’t just write stories around hot sex. I need to make the scenes necessary/fit the story. 

I’m currently finishing up a second novella and I’m at a pivotal scene. It’s honestly the first time I’ve consciously kept every one of these questions in mind. I feel brilliant, creative, and very proud that I’m crafting the scene so no one sees it as just another opportunity for me to write sex.

It’s a wonderful opportunity to allow the hero and heroine to unleash their characters, grow further into who they are (in my mind) and reach a conclusion that moves them either forward—or backward—on whatever path they’re traveling. It really is that important to the big picture.

What’s your opinion? Have you read stories where the sex just wasn’t *gasp* necessary? Did it make you feel uncomfortable or want to throw the book across the room?

Let’s chat!