The dull whump of the first distant explosion could be felt beneath the crumpled hull. Duncan rested his head against the skin of the ship and tried to gauge how far off it was. It would be one of the ones on the perimeter; it sounded like it had come from the direction of the river. They would have taken the trail rather than walk across the grass in the dark.
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Even when it comes to writing, women are more likely to get noticed for their sex lives than their skills.
By Jennifer Armstrong, Sirens Magazine
Posted on January 29, 2009, Printed on January 29, 2009
http://www.alternet.org/story/123145/
I have reported from the frontlines of my bedroom more than once in this space.
I detailed that sleepover with the hot guy who claimed not to like condoms (don’t worry, I didn’t let him get away with it). I confessed my insecurities about my vagina around the time of the advent of labial plastic surgery. I admitted to some racy sexual fantasies — a piece that was met with, shall we say, plenty of enthusiasm by the guy I was then dating. Continue reading
http://www.nytimes.com…
By MOTOKO RICH
The point may soon come when there are more people who want to write books than there are people who want to read them.
At least, that is what the evidence suggests. Booksellers, hobbled by the economic crisis, are struggling to lure readers. Almost all of the New York publishing houses are laying off editors and pinching pennies. Small bookstores are closing. Big chains are laying people off or exploring bankruptcy.
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Warning! Little bit of smut (heterosexual) and just to be on the safe side mention of controversial matter.
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::OUTING::
Chapter 3
**Present Time**
Gabriel’s POV
“I feel good, nanananananana…I knew that I would, now nanananananana…I feel good, nanananananana I knew that I would, now nanananananana…So good! So good! I got you!! Nanananana”
“Whoa! I feel nice, nanananananana…like sugar and spice, nanananananana…I feel nice, nanananananana… like sugar and spice, nanananananana… So nice! So nice! I got you!! Nananananaaaaa…”
Before I realize, I find myself humming and drumming my fingers in the rhythm of that song. I swear this is one of the best things about morning love-making sessions, hearing Vin singing afterwards.
Riddick spotted the village first. His hand tightened on her arm and she looked up as well as the first of the low buildings came into view. The village, what could be seen of it, wasn’t much larger than the one they had just left but the ground was more open, the dwellings more scattered.
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Darkness fell quickly in the forest. Duncan rested his head against the bulkhead, his eyes closed, and just listened. The sound of the birds died away first, not all at once but gradually. A moment of perfect stillness, and then slowly the sounds of night creatures began. He stayed close and listened. That would be the first warning signal, before the tripwires, before anything else, the night creatures would go silent.
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Wolves hunting rabbits. Fucking rabbit’s zigging and zagging all over the place, right under the jaws of that wolf. Somebody’s always fucking dinner. That’s one of the things I picked up from watching all those shows since Matty’s been gone.
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The rope didn’t burn Riddick’s hands as badly this time and his hands didn’t bleed. There was still that feeling of incredible power, of rightness, as he stood in front of the Moorglade with her graceful deadly keel rising above him.
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Ch 40
Duncan looked back into the darkened ship to watch Johns run a hand over his face, shaken. He had held it together when he needed to, but it wasn’t something to which he was accustomed, even as crew on a merc vessel.
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Ch 39
Duncan knelt by the side of the ship and listened to John’s voice as he argued with someone. He was accustomed to the dark after his run through the field to get back to the ship, so he trained his weapon carefully on the back of the man that argued with Johns, and waited. Johns was afraid, of that there was no doubt, but he held his ground in front of the other merc; Jacobs, the huge merc that Duncan had faced down earlier in the village.
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