A Naughty North Pole Thanksgiving

by Deanna Wadsworth

If you have had the joy of reading my Naughty North Pole books, than you are familiar with all three of these characters—Santa, Ms. Claus, and Jack Frost. Ever wonder who cooks the turkey in the North Pole on Thanksgiving?

“Can you please do this for me, Jack?”

I let out a forced sigh and relented. “Fine, I’ll play nice, but if my sister starts dancing naked around the table, that’s on you.”

“Do you think she’ll do that?”

I eyed my partner, my boyfriend, the love of my life—whatever the fuck you wanted to call him. Most people call him Santa Claus but I call him Nicky. “Well, she is Mother Nature, but don’t worry, the autumnal equinox already passed, so no. But we’re not inviting her for Christmas. You don’t wanna see the weird shit she does for Saturnalia.”

Nick chuckled, his face brightening. His blond hair and Nordic features were a far cry from the fat Coca-Cola Santa the humans knew and loved. Despite being the source of all things cold and wintery on the inside, I melted a little watching him fuss about the kitchen for our first family Thanksgiving. I still couldn’t believe we were really together, a couple, rusticating up in the North Pole like a couple of newlyweds.

Hell, the whole supernatural world couldn’t believe it.

Jack Frost and Santa Claus together at last.

I just hoped we’d still be on speaking terms after our families piled around a table heaped with carbs and a dead bird with even more carbs shoved up its ass. I glanced around the kitchen. Every pot we owned was in use and Nick—totally in his element—whistled while he worked on a meal he’d been planning for months.

“Are you whistling Here Comes Santa Claus?” I demanded when I recognized the tune.

A wicked grin slashed across his face, and his blue eyes actually twinkled with mischief. “Just putting in a request for later tonight after everyone leaves.” He gave me a quick kiss that lingered just long enough to catch the attention of everything below my waist.

Grinning and knowing full well what he did to me, Nick went back to stirring some sort of sauce on the stove that smelled delicious.

But not as delicious as he did.

Coming up behind him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and fit my cock snug against his ass. I humped his sweet bubble butt—the only thing round on the guy—and nibbled on his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. “Here comes Santa Claus,” I promised, reaching down to give his north pole a stroke.

Laughing, he squirmed out of my embrace pushed me away. He pointed at me with his spoon, smiling but serious. “No, you behave. Just go chill the salad bowls for me, Mr. Frost.”

“I’d rather toss your salad.” I delivered a hard smack on his ass and he yelped. Grinning because I knew he liked it, I headed over to do as he asked. I never could say no to Nick.

“Oh, get a room,” a feminine voice dripping with sarcasm groaned. Frieda, Nick’s twin sister, joined us in the kitchen.

“Nah, I should fuck him right in the kitchen. You know you wanna watch, Freaky Frieda,” I quipped.

The gorgeous blonde put both hands on her curvy hips. “Eeew! He’s my brother.”

“But I’m not. You know you dream about this.” I groped my dick, giving it a good rearranging in my jeans after Nick got it halfway-to-hard with that delectable ass of his.

“You’re disgusting!”

I threw back my head and laughed. While Nick was the ooey-gooey romantic type, his twin sis was all sharp wit with an even sharper tongue. Though I gave her shit, I was crazy about her. She was cool and nothing like my nuttier than fruitcake sister.

“Isn’t there an elf somewhere who should be shoving his dick in that gaping hole you call a mouth?” I traced my finger around the rims of the salad plates until they were chilled, but not frosted.

“Fuck you, Jack,” she said with no malice in her voice at all. She joined her brother at the stove and plucked a piece of stuffing from a dish. “Mmm, this is good.”

“Would you two play nice?” Nick scolded. “And use a spoon, at least, Frieda.”

She took another piece with her fingers. “We are playing nice. Do you want us to pretend to be other people for this stupid family Thanksgiving we all know is gonna be a disaster?”

“It’s not stupid nor is it going to be a disaster,” he countered and I wisely kept my mouth shut. “And yes, can you both pretend to be civilized people?”

I met Frieda’s gaze and shrugged. “I think I can do that for an hour. But if Thor starts talking about whacking things with his hammer, you know I won’t be able to help myself. That guy makes it too easy.”

Frieda snorted in disgust and tried to steal more stuffing. Nick swatted at her hand with the spoon but she dodged it. “I can’t stand Thor. Why did you have to invite him?”

“Because he’s family.” He scooped stuffing into a bowl and handed it to her. “And you only hate Thor because Grampa Odin lets him use the beach house in Tahiti whenever he wants and you only get to use it if you’re being supervised.”

“It wasn’t my fault Jimmy Hoffa fell off the yacht. There were a lot of cocktails involved,” she argued. “When is everybody gonna let it go?”

“You fucked Jimmy Hoffa? You dirty slut!” I exclaimed, accidentally freezing a plate in my shock. When the plate cracked Nick threw up his hands in defeat.

“Really, Jack?” He ran a hand over his face in a miserable gesture and I suddenly felt bad for teasing.

“I never fucked him. That was Kenna. She’s the dirty slut, not me,” Frieda muttered under her breath. The way she stared at the floor and fidgeted told me there was a lot more to the story than she was letting on—and I would find out. But not right now.

Ignoring her, I walked up to Nick and placed my hands on his shoulder, our love warming me on the insides the way it always did when we touched. I looked into his eyes and smiled. “I’m sorry about the plate, babe. And it’s gonna be a perfect dinner. You’ve worked hard all day, and everything looks wonderful.”

“I have worked hard,” he said in a tiny voice, almost a whine. His pathetic expression was so damn adorable I hugged him at once. Resting his head on my shoulder, he melted into me with a sigh.

Caressing his broad back, I held him close, loving the feel of his powerful body against mine. “I promise to behave, okay? No eff-bombs, if I can help it. But if your cousin tells that joke about accidentally sitting on his hammer, I can’t make any promises.”

He pulled back, the tension replaced with a smile. “I love you, Jack.”

“Awww, I love you too, Nicky,” I said in a simpering falsetto which couldn’t disguise the deep love I had for him.

I kissed him, slow and thorough, tasting every delicious part of his mouth with my tongue. He moaned into me, hands sliding along my back in a tender caress. My hands found their way to his ass and I pulled our groins together. Nothing in the universe was better than sex with the man I’d waited my whole life for, but our kiss was not sexual, not really. Each touch and press of lips was laden with love and devotion—just like the feast he’d prepared overflowed with love and butter. He’d worked hard to pull all of this together and I would do my best to make sure it was a success. He deserved that. To Nick, nothing was more important than being with those he loved for the holidays.

Losing myself to the kiss and his embrace, I was thankful to be one of the people he loved.

“Ugh!” Frieda cried. “Seriously, get a room!”

If you enjoy sexy, fun Christmas stories, check out the completeseries of  Naughty North Pole books at any reputable ebook seller.

You can read Frieda’s story here: MS. CLAUS’S LIST

And right now, Nick and Jack’s love story is only 99 cents! A GIFT FOR SANTA

Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. She has served multiple board positions at her local RWA chapter and with Rainbow Romance Writers of America. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and can often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.

Website │Facebook │ Twitter │Pinterest │goodreads

You can also find her young adult alter ego, K.D. Worth Facebook│Twitter

Hero (Heroine?) Weather

by Deanna Wadsworth

Can weather be a character in your book?

As I sat on the porch enjoying a glass of pinot grigio with my husband, watching a spring thunderstorm play out, I asked myself this question. Can the weather be a significant character in your book?

Well, I suppose the answer is yes and no. If your character is sad or depressed perhaps a sunny day can be used to illustrate the juxtaposition of their emotions. Would a rainy day be cliché to illustrate sadness and/or loneliness? Perhaps, but I suppose it all depends on how you write it. Maybe a sunny day would be a better way to illustrate their emotion. The biggest thing about making the weather not just a part of the setting, but a character in your novel, is that no one should know that it is significant.

How do you do that, you may ask?

Well, just as we put thought into what our character wears, what they look like, and how they feel, we have to remember that the weather changes how people think and behave. If it is gloomy and dark, do we and/or our characters feel affected by that? Do they get excited when the sun is shining? Are we angry or happy about rain? Honestly, when I was sitting with the hubby having wine and watching the storm roll in, it conjured wonderful memories of watching thunderstorms from my grandparents’ porch, where we all would read and watch the rain. Situations like this should and will influence our characters and their behaviors. We are writing romance after all, and emotion is at the heart of it all.

So the next time you begin your edits—really, don’t worry about the weather in your rough draft LOL—think about what it is doing outside. How will your characters emotions be affected by what is happening outside? Do you need to lay it all out, describing the storm? Perhaps like this:

They sat in a silence neither seemed ready to fill. The rain came down heavier now, periodic gusts causing the sound to shift as the building was pelted in irregular waves. Occasional bursts of lightening reflected the charged energy in the room. The real tempest brewed inside, swirling around them in a gale of risk and reward, danger and desire.

You can be obvious like this, but you can also be subtle. Only using the weather as a way that YOU as the author realize might affect the scene. You don’t have to explain how it changed the scene, but you will know and the reader will feel it with you without ever being told.

This little tip might be just enough to add a layer of emotion and intrigue to your book without even trying. J

~D

Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and can often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.

Website │Facebook │ Twitter │Pinterest │goodreads

You can also find her young adult alter ego, K.D. Worth Facebook│Twitter

Buy Deanna’s books at Decadent Publishing or at any reputable eBook seller

The Creativity of Spring

My favorite season is springtime. Nothing can compare to the delicious scent of ozone on the air after a lightning storm, or watching the green begin to push away the brown of winter’s grass. Coming home from work and smelling potting soil as the hubby starts our tomato plants on the kitchen table brings me such joy. And the way the sky gets bluer, the clouds whiter. Or seeing a cheery little crocus popping up amid the dry leaf litter still in my garden.

I love it!

Spring is a time of rebirth, not just for the earth. For me it’s a joyous time to shake off the winter doldrums, and put an end to cabin fever. Not that I’m one who suffers from seasonal depression, but it’s hard to have a case of the melancholies when birds are chirping outside your window and the deer are dashing across the corn fields. Everything is coming back to life, and that makes my creative juices flow.

Recently I was contemplating my writing accomplishments this past winter. I feel like I have been writing constantly, which is partially true. I had another Naughty North Pole book come out in December—Book Five: EVERYBODY HATES FRUITCAKE—and two other full length novels as well. But actually all I have been doing was editing.

While writing is just rewriting and editing, it dawned on me that I have not written any NEW material since August.

What the heck?

Well, it must have been the crisp spring air feeding my brain, all rich with the scent of dirt and growing things, because a new idea has sprouted. Not entirely new, though. Sometimes we visit old stories like we visit old friends, and that’s what I’m doing.

In my 1NightStand story ACCIDENTALLY BEAUTIFUL, my two heroes visited a gay bar in Grand Turk called No Woman No Cry—yeah like the Bob Marley song. There was a Haitian man who owned the place named Josef and frankly he just needed his own story. And as I love swapping characters with my writer pal Wendy Burke, I helped myself—with her permission of course—to the art gallery owner from her story WISE MEN SAY, Paul.

Now, just like the bulbs popping up in my garden and the sprouts of baby tomatoes growing in my kitchen, their love story is also growing. I’m very excited to be penning their journey and I’m nearing the halfway point. Frankly, even as I write this post, they are whispering in the back of my mind. The horny little bastards are ready to do some growing of their own, if you get my meaning, LOL, so I need to get back to writing. You see, Paul and Josef have just arrived at No Woman No Cry, and things are about to heat up! I’m thinking these two like mirrors, which is something I haven’t incorporated into any love scenes yet. So this should be fun for all!

What about you guys? Has the season change watered your creativity? Are you writing anything new that you would like to share? I’d love to hear about it!

~Deanna

Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and can often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.

Website │Facebook │ Twitter │Pinterest │goodreads

You can also find her young adult alter ego, K.D. Worth Facebook│Twitter

Buy Deanna’s books at Decadent Publishing, Dreamspinner Press or at any reputable eBook seller

Romancing the Book Snob

By Deanna Wadsworth

The other day someone made a disgusted face at me I told them what I was reading. Naturally, I’m in the middle of another awesome gay romance—per my usual— and they said, “I wouldn’t get caught dead reading that.”

Feeling my hackles rising, I was like, “What? A gay book?”

They said back with a laugh, “No, a trashy romance novel.”

 Mind you this book snob joined the other lemmings and read 50 Shades, but that is another rant for another day, LOL

So, while I was somewhat relieved their snobbery wasn’t a gay vs. straight thing, but rather an overall self-inflated opinion of their literary prowess, it got me thinking: why do so many people turn their noses up when they see a paperback with a Highland warrior on the cover and a be-gowned heroine? Or a book with two gorgeous, muscled hunks? Or hey, even a combo of all three?

We all know a book snob only reading something that makes them look smart, think deeply or that a certain daytime talk show host recommended. Personally with the wide variety of storylines in the romance genre I ask, why read anything else?

In a romance genre you will find everything you could want in any type if book. Thrillers, spy novels, vampires, murderer mystery, science fiction, political thrillers, inspirational, westerns and fantasy that would make a Tolkien fan look twice. You can have any combo of protagonists too from M/F, M/M, F/F. The possibilities and combinations are only as endless as your imagination and the space on your Kindle.

The one thing you won’t find after devoting a week to 90k words, is your MC dying in the last ten pages. Unless the heroine has some magic power to resurrect him, that is.

Why, I ask, is the content of a book with a guaranteed happy ending somehow inferior reading? Why is a book tossed aside because of some tawdry cover art? Weren’t we always told not to judge a book by its cover? So why does that not actually apply to a romance novel?

One of the first things we often ask when being introduced to a new couple is, “How did you two meet?” Why do we ask this? Because we are hoping that it may be an interesting story. A romance novel always delivers on an interesting story.

In today’s stressful world we all need an escape. We go to the movies and we want to laugh and we want to walk away feeling happy. We should demand the same things from our reading material. Today’s romance novel is not what most people think. There is a subgenre for everyone. The publishing world is tough to break into and the competition is fierce, so the quality of the writing is better than you would ever imagine. So next time someone asks you if you have a good book to recommend try telling them to read a romance. They will find a well-crafted page turner that will leave you walking away with a smile on your face.

Nothing feels better than Happily Ever After!

Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and can often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.

Website │Facebook │ Twitter │Pinterest │goodreads

A Christmas Sleigh Ride

***SPOILERS***

This scene takes place after the ending of Everybody Hates Fruitcake

My heart pounded in my chest as I waited in the barn. Absently, I patted the reindeer I’d selected to pull my sleigh. She huffed, stomping her hoof and antsy to go. I was a bit anxious myself. An hour ago, I’d left Jimmy in the great Hall, still unable to believe he actually liked fruitcake.

Could this be happening? Had I found a man to accept the very thing I had been hiding from everyone?

Movement at the barn door caught my attention and my grin almost made my cheeks hurt when I saw Jimmy.

Cheeks flushed and pink from the cold air, he was all bundled up in a grey fur coat. He gave me a happy wave. “Hey, Ivan.”

“You came,” I said with a rush of relief.

Jimmy quirked one eyebrow. “Did you think I wasn’t going to show up?”

I looked sheepishly at the ground, shuffling my feet. “Well, it would only be fair considering I didn’t show up yesterday.”

“True,” he said with a shrug. “But you said there were some things to work out, so I guess I get that.” He gave me a hopeful smile. “As long as you plan on letting me in on them eventually.”

“I will, I promise,” I said and it was true. Now that I knew he liked the taste of fruitcake, I couldn’t wait to tell him everything!

Jimmy gave the rail of my sleigh a pat, rattling it a bit as if testing it for stability. “So this is your sleigh?”

Embarrassed heat scorched my face. I was such a moron! Jimmy came from a royal family and my sleigh was big, bulky and rough around the edges, kinda like me. Why hadn’t I thought to borrow someone else’s? “I can get another one if you don’t like it. I can—”

Jimmy put his hand on my arm and I stopped talking immediately. “It’s perfect, Ivan. Relax. Why are you always so nervous?”

I chuckled, unsure how to answer that without sounding like a lovesick fool. Knowing that he loved fruitcake should have made this easier but I had never had a boyfriend before. Surreptitiously, I crossed my fingers, hoping that was where this was headed.

Clearing my throat, I gestured to the seat. “After you.”

I took his hand and helped him up. Once we were both seated and I had the reigns, Jimmy reached over and took my hand in his.

Though we both wore gloves, warmth from his touch went through me faster that the hottest cocoa on the coldest day. Overcome with affection, happiness, and gratitude, I gave into the one thing I’ve been dying to do for over year.

I kissed him.

Not a passionate kiss, full of hot promise, just a gentle brush of lips. When I pulled back, those green eyes met mine and we came together once more, our tongues connecting briefly, like the delicate kiss of a snowflake on a chilly cheek.

Cheeks reddening, Jimmy turned away and looked down at our clasped hands. His thumb ran along the length of mine and the air frosted around his mouth as he let out a sigh. “So where we going, Ivan?”

Holding onto the reigns with one hand—there was no way I was letting go of this elf ever again—I gave the reindeer a giddy-up. “Wherever you want, baby. Wherever you want.”

Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and can often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.

Website │Facebook │ Twitter │ goodreads

Everybody Hates Fruitcake

Ivan has the bad luck to be the only elf at the naughty North Pole with fruitcake-flavored cum—and he’s not telling anyone. When fellow elf Jimmy hits on him, Ivan fears revealing his secret and losing a chance to have a real relationship with the sexy elf.

After all, everybody hates fruitcake!

Danni's wife Sheila is the Head Chef at the North Pole. Unfortunately, while Sheila hunts for the perfect recipe for fruitcake, she neglects her wifely duties. So when Ivan tells Danni about his dilemma, she devises a plan to solve both of their problems.

Can these two girls help Ivan realize he is perfect just the way he is? Will Danni's wife perfect her fruitcake recipe with Ivan's special ingredient? But most importantly, will Ivan have the courage to take Jimmy up on his offer?

Decadent Publishing || Amazon || B&N || Smashwords || ARe

EXCERPT:

   A soft hand caressed mine. “Why don’t you like Jimmy?”

   Naturally, Danni wouldn’t let it drop. “It’s not that,” I answered. “I like him a lot, actually. That’s the problem.”

   She shook her head, her long black ponytail swaying. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

   “Of course you don’t get it.” I brushed a lock of silky black hair off her brow. Her bangs were always falling in her eyes, and she didn’t flinch from my familiarity. “You’re perfect.”

Grinning, she said, “Well, that’s obvious. But it still doesn’t explain why you say you like Jimmy, yet you ignore all his advances.”

   “Because I don’t know if I should do anything about it. He’ll just end up being disappointed.”

   “I’m still going to go with, that makes absolutely no sense.” She gave me a head to toe once over. I managed a smile when she tipped back to take in my ass and give me a whistle—she was such a flirt. “You’re gorgeous, Ivan. And you’re funny. You forget I’ve seen you take care of those pathetic earthbound reindeer.”

   “They’re not pathetic.”

   “See what I mean? All the other Dökkálfar in the stables prefer to work with the flyers. But not you. You’re kind and patient. A real caregiver. So I ask you, what would Jimmy have to be disappointed about?”

   I squirmed in my seat, unsure if I should tell her, but desperately wanting to. I had not breathed a word of it since I’d arrived, preferring to have my choice of lovers, rather than be laughed at like I had been in my hometown. But something about the sincerity, the kindness in Danni’s brown eyes made me feel like I should trust her. Like it was finally time to tell someone the truth.

   “Because I taste like fruitcake.”

Pick up your copy of Everybody Hates Fruitcake today!

Does Everybody Hate Fruitcake?

 by Deanna Wadsworth

The poor fruitcake has been a despised dessert, the butt of holiday jokes for as long as I can remember. I’ve eaten it a few times, however, and frankly I’m not sure what all the complaints are about. It’s heavy and crumbly, for sure, but with a nice cup o’ joe it can be quite tasty. Though, the only fruitcakes I have eaten were from the store, not homemade. See, even my family turned their noses up at this traditional dessert.

When I was writing Everybody Hates Fruitcake, I was definitely playing on the fruitcake prejudices out there. Poor Ivan—one of the Dark Elves hired by Santa to take care of his reindeer—has fruitcake-flavored cum.

“What?” you say. “Fruitcake-flavored cum?!”

Yeah, in case you haven’t heard all of Santa’s elves have candy flavored cum in The Naughty North Pole. LOL And it only seemed right that one of them would taste like fruitcake. Trouble is, Ivan knows all the jokes people say about fruitcake, and he is afraid to tell anyone his secret. He thinks no one will ever find him as delicious as the chocolate and peanut butter flavored guys.

But Sheila—the head chef at the North Pole and supervisor of Santa’s Christmas Cookie Baking School—thinks fruitcake is delicious! She has been spending years perfecting her recipe, but has never been able to get it right. When her wife Danni tells her about Ivan....well, let’s just say Sheila is in the mood for some taste testing!

Like Sheila, I too wanted to find a delicious fruitcake recipe. Check out these two AWESOME recipes that I found.

1) King Arthur Flour website TASTES OF THE TROPICS FRUITCAKE. If you love banana bread, and coconut, and the moist, dense, heavy texture of a classic fruitcake, you'll enjoy this "tropical" version of a holiday classic. It’s non-traditional but it was a big hit with my family!

2) The best and easiest recipe I found was this one from the Sugar-n-Spice Girls Chewy Fruitcake Cookies! These are AWESOME, you should totally make them. I left out the orange and lemon peel, though, and they were delish!

If you decide to try either of these recipes......think of Ivan and whether or not you really hate fruitcake.

~D

Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and can often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.

Facebook │ Twitter │Blog │goodreads

Everybody Hates Fruitcake

Ivan has the bad luck to be the only elf at the naughty North Pole with fruitcake-flavored cum—and he’s not telling anyone. When fellow elf Jimmy hits on him, Ivan fears revealing his secret and losing a chance to have a real relationship with the sexy elf.

After all, everybody hates fruitcake!

Danni's wife Sheila is the Head Chef at the North Pole. Unfortunately, while Sheila hunts for the perfect recipe for fruitcake, she neglects her wifely duties. So when Ivan tells Danni about his dilemma, she devises a plan to solve both of their problems.

Can these two girls help Ivan realize he is perfect just the way he is? Will Danni's wife perfect her fruitcake recipe with Ivan's special ingredient? But most importantly, will Ivan have the courage to take Jimmy up on his offer?

EXCERPT:

A soft hand caressed mine. “Why don’t you like Jimmy?”

Naturally, Danni wouldn’t let it drop. “It’s not that,” I answered. “I like him a lot, actually. That’s the problem.”

She shook her head, her long black ponytail swaying. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Of course you don’t get it.” I brushed a lock of silky black hair off her brow. Her bangs were always falling in her eyes, and she didn’t flinch from my familiarity. “You’re perfect.”

Grinning, she said, “Well, that’s obvious. But it still doesn’t explain why you say you like Jimmy, yet you ignore all his advances.”

“Because I don’t know if I should do anything about it. He’ll just end up being disappointed.”

“I’m still going to go with, that makes absolutely no sense.” She gave me a head to toe once over. I managed a smile when she tipped back to take in my ass and give me a whistle—she was such a flirt. “You’re gorgeous, Ivan. And you’re funny. You forget I’ve seen you take care of those pathetic earthbound reindeer.”

“They’re not pathetic.”

“See what I mean? All the other Dökkálfar in the stables prefer to work with the flyers. But not you. You’re kind and patient. A real caregiver. So I ask you, what would Jimmy have to be disappointed about?”

I squirmed in my seat, unsure if I should tell her, but desperately wanting to. I had not breathed a word of it since I’d arrived, preferring to have my choice of lovers, rather than be laughed at like I had been in my hometown. But something about the sincerity, the kindness in Danni’s brown eyes made me feel like I should trust her. Like it was finally time to tell someone the truth.

“Because I taste like fruitcake.”

Pick up your copy of EVERYBODY HATES FRUITCAKE today!

What are You Thankful for?

by Deanna Wadsworth

I have had a scary couple of weeks. When I blogged last, I was in sunny beautiful Aruba. It was the first vacation my husband and I have had in years, and should have been epic. Unfortunately, there was a dark cloud hanging over us the entire trip because out first dog, Bailey was quite sick. She’d spent a few days at the vet’s because of pancreatitis. She came home right before the trip and we believed she was on the mend. But while we were gone, she had a terrible relapse. She made it until we came home, but she was weak and not eating.

Miraculously, last Wednesday, three days after we returned, Bailey decided to eat. We thought it was a rally, which was why we let her eat an entire Hershey bar....and before you say anything, I’m not a moron. I know chocolate is bad for dogs, but she had been lying unmoving in her bed for NINE hours and we thought she was dying.

Then something changed.

She wanted my chocolate acai candies.

And she ate them.

Then she ate corn chips.

She ate her sister’s dinner, too.

And it all moved thru her digestive system properly....aka she pooped it out!

Now she is eating and gaining strength.

So you know what I am thankful on the official release day of my latest THE NAUGHTY NORTH POLE book?

The in and out game, as we call our dogs’ insistent game of wanting inside then outside ten minutes later. I’m happy about dog poop. A cocker spaniel getting under my feet and almost tripping me while I am cooking. Barking at midnight to go outside. Dog teeth snapping at me when I give her a biscuit—she has always been a greedy pig and I am happy as hell to have that energy back.

Now that my dog is better, I can even look back on my Aruba vacation and forget the sad moments, and remember the delicious taste of Balashi beer and mahi mahi on the pier, the sight of iguanas everywhere, and the romantic moments with my hubby. Maybe vacation wasn’t epic, but it was pretty damn good, after all.

How about you guys? With Thanksgiving right around the corner, what are you thankful for? 

EVERYBODY HATES FRUITCAKE

Ivan has the bad luck to be the only elf at the naughty North Pole with fruitcake-flavored cum—and he’s not telling anyone. When fellow elf Jimmy hits on him, Ivan fears revealing his secret and losing a chance to have a real relationship with the sexy elf.

After all, everybody hates fruitcake!

Danni's wife Sheila is the Head Chef at the North Pole. Unfortunately, while Sheila hunts for the perfect recipe for fruitcake, she neglects her wifely duties. So when Ivan tells Danni about his dilemma, she devises a plan to solve both of their problems.

Can these two girls help Ivan realize he is perfect just the way he is? Will Danni's wife perfect her fruitcake recipe with Ivan's special ingredient? But most importantly, will Ivan have the courage to take Jimmy up on his offer?

EXCERPT:

A soft hand caressed mine. “Why don’t you like Jimmy?”

Naturally, Danni wouldn’t let it drop. “It’s not that,” I answered. “I like him a lot, actually. That’s the problem.”

She shook her head, her long black ponytail swaying. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Of course you don’t get it.” I brushed a lock of silky black hair off her brow. Her bangs were always falling in her eyes, and she didn’t flinch from my familiarity. “You’re perfect.”

Grinning, she said, “Well, that’s obvious. But it still doesn’t explain why you say you like Jimmy, yet you ignore all his advances.”

“Because I don’t know if I should do anything about it. He’ll just end up being disappointed.”

“I’m still going to go with, that makes absolutely no sense.” She gave me a head to toe once over. I managed a smile when she tipped back to take in my ass and give me a whistle—she was such a flirt. “You’re gorgeous, Ivan. And you’re funny. You forget I’ve seen you take care of those pathetic earthbound reindeer.”

“They’re not pathetic.”

“See what I mean? All the other Dökkálfar in the stables prefer to work with the flyers. But not you. You’re kind and patient. A real caregiver. So I ask you, what would Jimmy have to be disappointed about?”

I squirmed in my seat, unsure if I should tell her, but desperately wanting to. I had not breathed a word of it since I’d arrived, preferring to have my choice of lovers, rather than be laughed at like I had been in my hometown. But something about the sincerity, the kindness in Danni’s brown eyes made me feel like I should trust her. Like it was finally time to tell someone the truth.

“Because I taste like fruitcake.”

Pick up your copy of EVERYBODY HATES FRUITCAKE today!

Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and can often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.

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The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

With the season premiere of FOX’s Sleepy Hollow tomorrow! But The Legend of Sleepy Hollow is classic tale written by Nathaniel Hawthorne about an uptight school teacher—not the hottie Tom Mison—but a geek named Ichabod Crane who has a run in with the Headless Horseman. So would you like to hear about MY version of this classic American tale? I have written a few erotic fairy tales, and in 2010 I thought this short story could use an erotic twist. The original tale has Brom Bones (the town stud and resident “cool” guy) and the uptight nerdy Ichabod Crane both vying to marry the rich Katrina Van Tassel. If you read the original book it is pretty obvious there is no Headless Horseman, rather, Brom Bones just dressed up as the specter to scare off Ichabod and get the girl. At first, though it seems obvious to make this an erotic ménage or at least a het story, and that was my intention. I have to give my hubby credit for making me write this as m/m. While I was telling him about my idea he started laughing and said, “You should make him a gay Headless Horseman. Get it? Headless? Like he’s not getting any head and that’s why he’s so pissed off!” Then he proceeded to laugh hysterically to himself. The seed had been planted and suddenly I was writing a book which would go on to become the first gay romance I ever had published. Of course, in my version both Ichabod and Brom get plenty of head. In fact it’s probably the most erotic book I’ve ever written, so be warned, LOL If you are looking for a sexy twist on an old classic, I think you should check out The Legend of Sleepy Hollow One lucky commenter will WIN a digital copy of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, so please leave your name and email so I can contact you! ~Deanna ~Blurb~

Ichabod Crane, town schoolmaster and self-proclaimed supernatural expert, wants to better his situation by marrying the wealthy Katrina Van Tassel. But, there is a rival for her attentions.    Local hero, Brom Bones.    Brom lives to torment and tease Ichabod, leaving the schoolmaster wondering if he is more interested in besting his rival than winning Katrina’s hand. Especially when each time Ichabod goes into the backroom of his favorite tavern – a place men can be men –his imagination conjures Brom's face on every lover.    Late one night, Ichabod is chased by the legendary Headless Horseman. Terrified the ghost wants his head, he tries to outrun the specter. To his horror, he is taken captive by the evil spirit.    Ichabod awakens, naked and tied to a bed, only to discover the Headless Horseman is none other than his rival Brom Bones! Brom confesses that Ichabod has been haunting his own fantasies and he vows to make Ichabod Crane his in every way. Ichabod wants to believe the pleasure Brom offers comes from his heart, but he is afraid it is another one of Brom’s tricks. Though surely an enemy's touch has never felt like this... ~Excerpt~ Squinting into the dark room, Ichabod’s vision began to cooperate and he soon could make out shapes in the dark. He was not alone. With him was a tall figure in a long black cape the proportions of which were surely made for a giant. A choked whimper escaped him. The Headless Horseman had taken him prisoner! “What is it that you want with me?” Ichabod demanded, unable to disguise the tremor in his voice. There was no answer. However the air crackled with the menace of what might come. Or perhaps the threat was insinuated by the fact Ichabod was tied naked to a bed. Such was not a customary welcome in these parts, nor did it bode well for the intent of his captor. The ghost stirred on the other side of the room and the hairs on Ichabod’s scalp and neck rose to sharp attention when he heard the scraping sound of a knife. His eyes, still accustomed to the dark, struggled to work in the sudden glittering orange light which now filled the room. Surely that glow must have come from the pits of Hell itself! Ichabod thrashed against his restraints, convinced beyond a shadow of doubt that the Hessian was sharpening a butcher knife over a flame to ease with the task of removing Ichabod’s head from his body. But, struggle as he might, he could not loosen the ropes. Collapsing in defeat, he fought to swallow his rising alarm. Dread coiled like a scaly constrictor around his insides and tears began to pour down his face. He could not stop them nor could he contain the trembling of his body. Seeing no means of escape, he began to plead, “Do not take my head, Hessian, please.” There was an answering chuckle that registered somewhere in the lucid recesses of Ichabod’s mind. “What use would I have for your head when I have my own?” Racing along with the sheer panic and dismay, a spark of familiarity ignited in Ichabod and he ceased to cry. He repeated the sound of that voice in his mind, wondering if his ears had deceived him, like his eyes. His altered perception was not unexpected, what with being naked and bound to a bed. Yet, now that he looked more closely he saw that the monstrous being before him was in full possession of its own head and, therefore, did not have a use for Ichabod’s own cranium. Nor was the masked specter honing a blade with Hellfire. His captor had simply lit a lone candle and that sharp sound had been the match striking the wall. When the specter turned and pulled off its mask, black corkscrew curls stretched, then sprang back into shape. Ichabod gasped in surprise. Why, the head atop the Horseman’s neck belonged to none other than Brom Bones! His fright and terror were replaced with new emotions at the speed of an advancing legion of demons. Anger and rage filled the mild mannered schoolteacher. He fought the bindings furiously. “What is the meaning of this, Brom Bones?” The man said nothing as he unclasped his long cloak and draped it across the chair. He tossed the mask aside, too. Ichabod now realized the black mask was how this dastardly man had camouflaged the existence of his head as he chased him through the black night. He must have known Ichabod's wild imagination would allow the shadows to render his cranium invisible and turn that blasted pumpkin on the pommel of the horse into the Hessian’s missing head! Thoughts raged in Ichabod’s mind like a swarm of molested bees and he tried to gather them up and make sense of them. For everything there was a likely explanation and he could think of only one reason Brom Bones had taken him captive. “You believe doing this to me will help you win Katrina Van Tassel?” Ichabod cried, his muscles bulging as he strained to break the ropes once more. “Is it not bad enough you have broken into my schoolhouse with your gang and left the place in complete disrepair? Is it not enough that you mock me for being tall and thin? Now you should tie me naked to this bed in order to humiliate me? Is there no honor in you at all?” Ichabod had worked himself into a hysterical state of agitation and Brom Bones did not seem surprised as he calmly took a seat on the chair. “It is for none of these reasons you speak of that I do this.” His pulse roared in his ears and he wrestled with the restraints, hating that his nudity was laid bare to his enemy and that he was so utterly helplessness. “Release me!” “No, not until I have my way.” About the author:

Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and can often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.

You can find Deanna here: FacebookTwitterBloggoodreads

Buy Deanna’s books at Dreamspinner Press, Decadent Publishing or any reputable eBook seller