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I'm a published author of nearly one hundred erotic romances, a former health care financial manager, and a wife and mom to seven kids and one spoiled cat. I love to hear from readers!

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Hey, guys, we erotic romance authors write fiction!


This particular fiction, written by my good friend Judy Mays, sounds damn interesting to me from this blurb I lifted off her website:

"Melody Gray has a dilemma, two of them really.

"First, a CIA agent name Nick Price has appeared at her detective agency looking for a former client of hers named Jake Fields. According to Price, his real name is Nick Hurley, and he’s embezzled a lot of money from the CIA. What Nick isn’t telling Melody is that he’s really searching for Jake because his superior believes he’s a werewolf, not that Nick believes in them. But, his boss is his boss, and Nick’s got to follow orders.

"What Melody isn’t telling Nick is that Jake Hurley is really Garth Gray, her brother. She knows exactly why Nick Price is hunting her brother. After all, Garth is really a werewolf. So is Melody for that matter. All she has to do is stall Nick Price of the “effing” CIA long enough for her father Artemis to get Nick pulled off the case.

"Melody’s second problem? Seems there’s a wolf named Drake who thinks she’d make the perfect mate. Melody isn’t interested. Go live in the woods as a wolf for the rest of her life and give up bubble baths and chocolate? No way! All she has to do is figure out how to convince Drake, who’s got to be the most stubborn wolf she’d ever met.

"Two males, one human, one wolf, and both driving Melody to distraction. But then, neither is exactly what he seems to be."

So... I'm trying hard to re-set my brain temporarily to the gutter where two small-town Pennsylvania detractors of Ms. Mays apparently reside. (God, I hope this is temporary, because I wouldn't want to live in their mindset for longer than it will take to write this article.)

Okay, I think I've got it. Now I'm looking at the cover and reading this blurb.

I'm going ballistic, because I've found out that Judy Mays is a pen name for... Omigod...my sweet, innocent sixteen-year-old's English teacher. My eyes are glued on the cover that portrays two folks prettier than any I've ever actually seen. They're--gulp--kissing. And it looks to me like they're thinking about doing way more. I pry my eyes away from the cover and begin reading--an exercise I pretty much gave up once I escaped from high school.

This is worse than I thought! She's writing about a CIA agent who gets ensnared by...OH, NO. The blonde is a werewolf, and she's gonna turn down a perfectly good werewolf for this human, and they're gonna have inter-species SEX. Like when my brother did it with one of the sheep. Scandalous!

I think a little more. My brain is on overload, which doesn't take a lot. My heart beating double-time, I think about my baby tenth grader being corrupted by this Ms. Mays who must be some sort of changeling sex fiend. She has to be thinking filthy thoughts about my Johnny and teaching him all sorts of things he's much too young to know. Something's got to be done!

Powee! Gotta call the TV station and warn them what's goin' on.

My brain snaps back to itself. It can't take any more of this woman's idiocy. Yes, Ms. Mays writes erotic romance--damn good erotic romance. She writes about wolfies--shapeshifters. Hell, that doesn't mean she is one. That would make as much sense as saying that because she writes graphic sex scenes, she must be fantasizing about getting it on with her pimply-faced students.

I've railed in my personal life about the downside of teacher unions and school tenure policies that sometimes protect poor teachers and promote mediocrity in public education. In this case, however, I hope Ms. Mays, in her other persona, is well-protected from narrow-minded community members who want to see her lose her job because she chooses to augment her income by writing and publishing fiction.

Ms. Mays writes FICTION. You wouldn't think that because an author writes thrillers about serial killers, he must be one, or that because someone writes about crime, he must be a criminal. Why is it that you get the idea that someone who writes about sex has necessarily experienced or even fantasized about every act he or she depicts in a story? It doesn't make sense!

I hope everyone who reads this will comment, and that they will buy at least one of Judy Mays' fine erotic romances in support of her--and in the support of the first amendment right of free speech.

And that everybody who was expecting a promo about my own EC release will check it out at my website or EC's...and pick up a copy while you're getting one of Judy's fantastic, well-written and very sexy books.