Smut Book Awards

Smut Book Awards

Some of my fave books, characters and plots are here and available to be voted upon. I’d really like to see an award for steamiest scene though…


Why I Don’t Like the Liebster Award. Please Don’t Hate Me.

Why I Don’t Like the Liebster Award. Please Don’t Hate Me..

Liebster Blog

I love this, and I so hear where she is coming from. Those dreaded chain letters that we all received as children, the memory of which still gives me the heeby-geebies today when recalling them. I remember them with such clarity. Not the content, just the ‘do it or you/your dog/your bestie/Mum will die if you don’t pass it on to the next ten friends’ thingy.

I too cringe at nominations and awards. It’s the whole ‘I am so not worthy’ thing going on. I always feel that if they look just that little bit closer they will realise what a big mistake they’ve made. Then I get embarrassed. It makes me smile just thinking about it.

Then I worry that they will take it back. But I don’t want to lose it. It’s mine! *snort*

So yes, I believe that there is someone else out there that is far more worthy than I. That I am not deserving, and yet at the same time I crave the acknowledgement. I glow with pride and get warm fuzzies when anyone tells me ‘well done’ for anything that I’ve done. I strive to do the best that I can, then burst with pride when it’s acknowledged, then feel unworthy all at the same time.

Who said we’re not complex creatures.

The Garage

It was a hot day.
The traffic was thick, and I had forgotten that coming out at this time of day was a bad move. The road i was travelling led to the city, and was a main arterial route. Worse, school was out, so there were Mum’s running amuck on the streets in their four by fours and people movers. It was chaos.
Worse, I was low on fuel. The little light continually flashed it’s incessant message at me. Blink, blink, blink. Warning and I had better heed its advice. Small my car may be, but the very idea of running out of fuel on this road and at this time of day under a burning sun, was enough to make me decide that I would get fuel asap. Thinking of the nearest fuel stations and what lay ahead of me, I knew that the next major intersection held two depots. Both on the other side of the road, and each on a corner of the major intersection. Getting into one would mean crossing the oncoming traffic just before the lights, and although it was a reputable fuel supplier, you could only go in one way, fuel up in that direction and then leave. This proposed some difficulties for me getting back into the flow of traffic to head for home.
The other fuel depot was less reputable, but I could use the green arrow at the lights to turn into it. Fine, that would have to do. Making my way through the occasionally hazardous traffic, I finally made it to the intersection where said light finally turned green and I was able to zip into the driveway of the garage, with a jerk who was tailing me just missing the derierre of my wee car.
I pulled up at the first available pump, and after popping the fuel lid jumped out of the car, wallet in one hand, stuffing keys into my jeans pocket with the other, walked around the back of my car.
It was then that I realised I wasn’t exactly dressed for public viewing. Sure I was dressed, but… I had a pair of boot leg jeans on, a pair of thongs on my feet (they’re my faves, and the fact that they are purple, may or may not factor into that), and a mauve singlet with no over-shirt.
Why wasn’t it suitable? Because I had no bra on. So sue me, it was a hot day dammit, and I hadn’t planned on making any stops.
Looking at the pump I realised that there was nowhere to select the dollar amount of fuel I needed to buy. “Dammit! Really? This is on a major arterial road for fucks sake.” Muttering to myself, I was thinking about how much money this particular depot would make – there was no reason not to have updated fuel pumps!
Having to stick to a budget was slowly becoming something that was a pain in my arse. Still, I couldn’t afford to fill my tank like I was used to doing in the not too distant past. Looking at the pump once again, and recalling that I wasn’t using the best supplier of fuel, I choose the more expensive type of fuel for my car. Hoping as I did so, that it would be the equivalent quality of the cheaper fuel across the way.
Twenty dollars and two cents later, I put the fuel nozzle back on the pump effectively shutting it down.
Walking into the cool air of the garage I scanned the area for the register. Ah there it was. Over in the opposite corner to where I expected it. Circumnavigating the ice-cream freezers and not even tempted to put my hand in and reach for an ice cream, I placed my money down on the counter and stated “Number six thanks.”
“Number six?” the boy behind the counter queried.
“Yes, number six thank you.”
“Are you sure it’s number six?”
“Yes. It’s number six.” I was starting to be mildly annoyed.
“It can’t be number six.”
“It can and it is. I checked. Number six please.” Make that seriously becoming pissed.
He queried my selection twice more, so in total frustration, I pointed out my little white and relatively still new vehicle whereupon he finally accepted my cash.
Honestly, if he hadn’t snapped out of it… then again, if he so much as hinted at requesting five cents to cover the two cents over that I’d pumped into my car, he had another thing coming.
Receipt finally in hand, I turned away and crashed fully into six foot seven inches of rather hunky male.
With all the too-ing and fro-ing between myself and the pump-operator, a sizeable queue had formed.
Backing up I apologised profusely, I blushed and stepped around the man of a mountain. I heard an appreciative, “G’day!” As I sailed past.
My response? “Cheeers,” with a hand wave over my shoulder as I waltzed out the door.
Really, a person asks me if I’m having a good day and I walk off saying cheers? That bump must have scrambled my brains.
Half way across the station driveway and heading for my car, I realised with no small amount of shock and amusement on my part, that the guy had been about to hit on me.
That never happens anymore. Well let me put it this way, at my age it happens so rarely that I don’t even recognise it when it does happen. Point in case.
Finally reaching my car I hope in, put my belt on (habit), and lean forward to put my keys in the ignition as my window comes down to let in the cool afternoon breeze that has finally sprung up and the central locking kicks in.
As I sit back in my seat and I’m just about to move off, a large hand lands on the sill of the drivers side window, and a larger than life body squats down on the other side of the door.
Not normally a nervous person, a small ‘eek’ leaked out of me.
It’s man mountain, and he’s now at eye level with me.
OMG. Now what?
“Hello again.”
“Sorry, if I made you jump. It wasn’t my intention to startle you.”
The guy is squatting outside my window, wearing high vis clothing, hair in disarray, and yet this cultured, gentle yet deep and smooth as silk voice oozes out of him and my heart just melted into a puddle.
“Are you okay?”
“Umm.” Okay now where the hell are my brains? GeezLouise.
He’s smiling at me, but I do believe he’s trying, with great difficulty, not to laugh. Hmpf!
“I just wondered if you were doing anything tomorrow night?”
That startled a “Are you kidding me?” response out of me.
A deep chuckle emanated from him.
OMG. I’m screwed.
“No I’m completely serious. So, are you? Busy I mean.”
The sunglasses that covered half his face wrapped around his head so securely, I was certain that if someone hit him across the back of the head, they would stay in place. That thought didn’t help me much, but like most thoughts that entered my head these days, it just appeared – and didn’t help the situation any.
“Look sweetie…”
“Sweetie? Oh this isn’t going to be good is it.” he said as he glanced away from me, the smile slowly melting from his face, for the first time since he’d taken up residence outside my car door I might add. Hmmm.
I couldn’t help myself. I grinned. Reaching up to the top of my head I grabbed my sunnies, and slid them down onto the bridge of my nose.
Ah, misguided security. Safe from nothing except uv rays, it was misguided indeed. But at a time like this? I’d take what I could get.
“See this?” I asked as I swung my left hand outside the drivers side window, and waved it around madly.
“Hmmm, yes. I do believe… yes, yes. It’s a hand?”
This time it was my turn to chuckle. Oh stop it, I told myself.
Waggling my ring finger only, I continued on regardless.
“It’s a ring.”
“Listen,” he said, “I don’t usually give jewellery before the first date. I really think you might be worth that sort of bestowment, it’s just not something I was prepared for. You know, if I’d known that I was going to bump into you today, well, I would have been prepared. Will you take a rain check?”
This made me grin. What can I say? I’m weak where gorgeous males, and jewelry come together in the same time zone.
Pulling my head out of the clouds, my thoughts took a swift right hand turn. Where did this guy get off? It looked like I was going to have to be blunt.
“Look mate. I’m engaged.”
“Ah, so that’s a no then?”
“Yes!” thinking to myself, he finally gets it.
“That’s great. What time can I pick you up then?”
Arghhhhhh. Thumping my head forward onto the steering wheel, I groaned in frustration. This guy was doing my head in. I was about to sit up, put the car in gear and move off, when I found my hand, THAT HAND, engulfed in his, and it was the size of a bears paw. He held my hand with the tips of his fingers, he then ever so gently wrapped my wrist in his other hand.
I found my hand completely secure.
I felt safe.
I relaxed.
Then three things happened instantly.
A ping of intense feeling swept up my hand, and filled my entire body.
I lost my breath.
I tried, and failed to snatch my hand back.
“Feel this,” he said as he pulled my hand gently forward and placed it, palm flat, against the middle of his chest.
His heart raced under my hand. He spoke once again, softly, deeply…
“That’s what you are doing to me. It’s what you’ve been doing to me since I first saw you stepping around the back of your car, and up to the pump.”
Okay, stalker alert.
The hot flush that had swept through my body immediately dissipated. Where the hell did I think I was for heavens sake? In the middle of a happy ever after story book? Good grief, this was life for goodness sakes. Stuff like this doesn’t happen in real life. Only I would land a stalker at a garage dressed like this.
Pulling my hand away from him, I shook my head. Picking his other hand up from where it still rested on the door sill, and dropped it outside my car door.
“Bye mate.” was all I said as I put it into gear and moved the car off. I was shaking like a leaf. Pushing all thoughts of my close encounter of the third kind out of my head, I moved my car to the other side of the garage. I needed to gather my wits, and I needed to check the air in my tyres. There’s no way he would know that I’d not left, as the garage itself sat in the middle of where I’d been, and where I was now. As far as he was concerned, I’d driven straight out of the garage and back onto the main drag.
I sat in the car for a minute or two, attempting to shake off the … well I don’t know how to describe the mixed emotions that were shooting through my body, but I was damn well going to take control on the non-sensical thoughts that were shooting through my head. Finally getting out of the safety of my car, I shook my head at the crazy world I now lived in. Collecting the the air hose I moved to the front of my car. Bending over I took off the cap and applied the nozzle, checking off the weight shown on the gauge currently in the tyre before applying anymore pressure. Yep, needed air. Plunging my thumb down, listening to the hiss of air as it was slowly being pushed into my tyre, my thoughts once again turned to the man that had just asked me out on a date. I shook my head in disbelief. A man I didn’t know from Adam, and who had tried to pick me up in a garage of all places, even after I’d told him I was engaged. The cheek!
Seriously, he must have been desperate. I started to chuckle, as mentally I blamed the total encounter on the girls. I should have worn a bra, my fault for flaunting them as I had. Let’s face it, I was overweight and old. Fat and old. The only attraction had to be the girls. My normal intelligence had failed me entirely in the verbal encounter, so there wasn’t anything there to have egged him on at all.
I heard a motorbike pull up beside me, obviously wanting to use the air hose too. Well, they’d have to wait, I still had three more tyres to check.
I’d moved onto the third tyre when something large landed – and with some force I might add – on my arse, propellikng me up and around to face my attacker, where I immediately took up a fighting stance.
What the hell?!
Ah shit.
At a guess, ‘that’ was a large hand being applied to my rear, by a large man. A large man that had stepped back a few paces at my obvious aggression in response to his attack.
“Hey!” (Yet more intelligence being shown on my part.) “What part of ‘No’ don’t you get Sasquatch?”
“Sasquatch? You know that’s not a very nice thing to say to a guy.”
“Are you for real?”
“Look, I just want to ask you out on a date. Where’s the harm?”
This being said all while he was now slowly encroaching on my space. My back hit the front end of my car.
“You are not old.” As he reached out to me.
“You are not fat.” He leaned into me, forcing me to either meet him chest to chest, or lean back.
I leant back.
“You are not married yet!” Then he ever so gently wrapped his bear sized paws around my waist.
He was serious. Super, super serious.
Husky his voice maybe at the moment, but there was serious intent there. Read my message, it said, loud and clear.
My back met with the hood of my car, just as his chest met with mine.
His hands had slowly made their way up my sides, touching nothing and yet touching everything in their wake. Raising my hands above my head, he kept them wrapped up in one oversized paw, with his other running back down my arm, to my face, where, holding it gently, he placed the most chaste of kisses on my mouth.
Damn. It. All. Now, I wanted more.
What could I say, it had been a dry spell. A very long, very dry spell.
Lifting his face away from mine, he looked me directly the eye. That’s when I saw his eyes for the first time. He had green eyes. Deep sea green.
I could get lost in those eyes.
I did get lost in those eyes.
Thank goodness I was draped over the hood of my car, as I’m fairly certain that at this point, my legs would not have held me up right about then. They’d gone all to goo.
“Now,” he said as he pulled me up, and straight back into his arms. “I won’t,” he kissed the tip of my nose, “take no,” he kissed above one eye, “for,” he then kissed above the other, “an answer.” With that, he kissed me again. Still chaste, but longer, trailing it across my jaw, down my neck to my collarbone, then back up to my lips, where he proceeded to nibble my bottom lip.
His lips were soft, he was gentle in his kissing of me, and I was completely and irrevocably lost.
With one arm wrapped around my lower back, and the other cupping my cheek he said, “Don’t freak out on me okay? I’m going to put my card in your back jeans pocket..”
His hand slid into the back pocket of my jeans.
“Call me tomorrow and let me know where you’ll be. I don’t care if it’s at a friends, a bar, the beach, or with people in tow, just tell me you’ll meet me?”
All this said as he reined kisses across my face.
If I moaned, I didn’t know it. I’m sure if I reflect on it later there will be a lot of moaning. To be frank, I’m not even certain I was still breathing.
“Tell me you’ll meet me, please?” All in a guttural voice.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I’ll meet you.”
“Good girl.” Hugging me to him, he gave me one final chaste kiss on the lips, and turned and climbed onto his bike. Pulled his lid on, and with a wave, roared onto the road and was lost in the traffic in a heart beat.
I got back into my car, started it up, and shakily, headed home.
Nowhere to be found.