Happy Friday! I'm so excited to welcome the fabulous Fierce Dolan to the blog today. Take it away, Miz Fierce...
I confess, I'm not much on romance. Except that I am, just in a very different way than most people expect.
Let me back up. All sources report now that erotica is the genre to publish in, and the industry still largely views erotica as a sub-genre of romance. Many publishers who focus on erotica require a romantic element, if not primary plot. In other words, the erotica may be there, but the romance must be. But what does that mean, exactly? What if romance is different things to different people? Can erotica with nipple clamps and an intimidating peg be as romantic as flowers, a rugged alpha, and HEA? The climb in sales of erotica could suggest so, but what do you think?
For me, romance is anything that captivates my mind in such a way that I open to intimacy. Intimacy is the result of an acquiesced ego, body and mind spread for cerebral stimulation, carnal completion. What it takes to get all of us there isn't the same, across the board, so why would we expect it to be in our literature? If romance involves a flail, potty mouth, and a cathartic mindfuck... well. Whatever it takes.
On Traveler Through Darkness…
A lifetime of want collides with fate the night of Tarik’s bachelor party, fulfilling his deepest secret desire—only it’s not with the strippers his Arab friends hired to cater to his every whim. Uncomfortable with the debauched festivities, Tarik ducks out of the soirée, stumbling into Wo, a kind Navajo artist, who forces him to say what he really wants, then gives it to him, all night.
From Traveler Through Darkness…
“I am so sorry–” Tarik began.
“It’s okay. It was an accident.” The words were rushed as he pulled the soaked sweatshirt from his skin and fanned the dripping tablet. Black smudges coated the fingertips and heel of his left hand.
“I've ruined your work,” Tarik lamented, motioning toward the pad.
“Oh, no. It's just a sketch. I was fascinated with the moonlight on the harbor.” He flashed a charcoal rendering of the midnight water. A long, shimmering black strand fell forward of the band securing his hair, lighting just at the edge of his upturned mouth. “No masterpiece here.”
Piercing umber eyes met Tarik’s, and the gentle smile relaxed his shoulders. “You were in the ballroom earlier.”
“Mmm. The bachelor party.”
Tarik pursed his lips, nodding once. “I’m staying in the hotel. Allow me to get for you a clean shirt.”
“It’s fine. I don’t have far to go.”
“In this cold, with no jacket, you will freeze. Please. I insist—”
“What's your name?” the younger man asked.
“I am Tarik.” He bowed.
“I'm Wo.” He nodded. “Thank you for your kind offer, Tarik.”
Enjoy Traveler Through Darkness along with the http://www.fiercedolan.
MezzoFiction author, Fierce is imagination shapeshifted as a scribe taunting blank pages and carpal tunnel, neither of which are much use for deadlines. Close allies are impeccable timing and a trusty masseuse. Being a switch I/ENFP doesn't hurt. For kicks Fierce has other personas across several genres, tends to fill in “Other” on surveys without explaining, and chooses the finality of the Japanese Tamagotchi.
In summary: Fierce writes all kind of dirty things that you shouldn’t read, ever …