Liquid Friday with author Cecilia Tan

This week we are featuring long time erotica writer and novelist Cecilia Tan.  The newest book Wild Licks, from her series Secrets of a Rock Star, makes it Cecilia’s 12th published novel . (Just released this August 2nd)

But before we dive down in between her pages, lets hear from Cecilia about a favorite cocktail to go along with this book.

I invented this cocktail to represent my hero! It’s based on the traditional Harvey Wallbanger (vodka, Galliano, orange juice) except Mal Kenneally, the rough-sex-loving hero of Wild Licks, is Maltoo dark and mysterious for a vodka drink, so I replaced the vodka with a smoky Irish whiskey. I’ve been trying whiskeys in place of vodka in a lot of drinks with good results. Vodka is boring to me. I like my drinks like my romance heroes, dark, complex, and full of flavor. Meanwhile, the heroine is sparkly and bubbly on the surface, and sweet to the core. When you put her and Mal together you get the perfect combination!

Mal’s Wallbanger Recipe:

  • 3 parts whiskey (preferably Irish but rye, scotch, bourbon, or even cognac can work)
  • 1 part Galliano herbal liqueur
  • 2 parts orange juice
  • Chill/shake and pour over a tall glass full of ice

Optional: add 6 parts soda water (after shaking) to make it a summer spritzer

So let us kick back and relax.  As this delicious sinfullness slides down our throat, bringing us to the verge of ecstasy, lets begin exploring  Cecilia‘s book Wild Licks:

Blurb:

Gwen Hamilton is always looking for a thrill. Not even running a secret BDSM club can fulfill her true desires. It’s only when he’s backstage at a rock concert and attracts the eye–and experienced hands–of guitarist Mal Kenneally that she finds that perfect wild_licks_200x300combination of danger and excitement she’s been craving. Keeping her real identiy a secret from him she revels in his uncompromising dominance by night, while by day he knows her only as Gwen, his arm candy for public appearances.

Gwen blows Mal’s mind with her enthusiastic submission to his harshest commands. Even though he has a reputation for never seeing the same woman twice, he can’t help being tempted by the mystery woman who fulfulls his every fantasy. When Mal discovers who Gwen is, he never wants to let her go. Finally he can indulge his absolute power. But dancing too recklessly on the razor’s edge could cut deeper than either of them bargained for.  

Excerpt of WILD LICKS by Cecilia Tan (Forever/Grand Central Publishing), August 2 2016 release date

By the time I arrived at the Forum, the concert had already started. Thank goodness Ricki had gotten us VIP parking permits and backstage passes. The VIP lot was next to where the band’s tour bus was parked—a massive thing with the rough logo painted on the side—and I could see a security guard standing outside a side door into the arena.

I clutched my purse to my shoulder as I approached him. He was wearing black and the band’s crew jacket, a lanyard hanging from his neck with a cluster of laminated passes at the bottom of it. “Hi, yeah, is this the right door? I have a backstage pass waiting for me,” I told him.

He looked me up and down. “Oh, really,” he said, as if he didn’t believe a word of it and was merely humoring me. “And who exactly would be responsible for putting you on the list?”

“My sister. Or her boyfriend. Axel Hawke? Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

He laughed. “Try pulling the other one.”

“Okay, seriously, I’m Gwen Hamilton.” His attitude was really starting to piss me off.

Amusement twisted his mouth. “You know, honey, if what you really want is a good banging, plenty of guys in your hometown would oblige.”

“Excuse me?”

Tan_WildLicks_mal_gwen_quote“Okay, okay, I get it. You came all the way here to get some genuine, grade-A rock star dick. Which one do you want? I’ll tell you if you’re his type. The only one who’s off-limits is Axel. He’s monotonous and his girlfriend’s here to boot.”

“You mean monogamous and that’s what I told you—his girlfriend is my sister!”

“He’s into some kinky shit but I don’t think incest is—”

The door opened and a guy stuck his head out. He was long and lean with a partially shaved head. “Gilbert, you got a problem here?”

“Excuse me,” I said. “Have you got the guest list? Because I am on it and this dimwit thinks it’s funny to sexually harass me.”

The guy came all the way out with a clipboard in hand. “Name?”

“Gwen Hamilton.”

“You got ID?”

“Yes.” I dug my driver’s license out of my bag and showed it to him.

“All right, come with me.” He punched Gilbert on the arm. “Be nice.”

Gilbert rubbed his arm and held the door open. “Come on, Nick, how was I supposed to know she was on the list? She looks like every other groupie.”

“By checking the list,” Nick said, waving the clipboard. “She’s probably some fan club contest winner or something. Be nice or you’ll go viral on YouTube.” As the door shut behind us, he said, “My apologies, miss. Here.” In the hallway stood a podium on wheels. From behind it he pulled out a lanyard with a laminated pass on it, and he signed his name on the bottom with a Sharpie.

I slung it over my neck.

“When the band comes offstage, they’ll go through there to the green room.” He pointed down a hallway to the left. “Main party’ll be over there”—then he pointed to the right—“and if you want to watch the rest of the show, straight ahead.”

I thanked him and went straight ahead, the music getting louder as I went. There was a handwritten sign taped to the cinder block at a stairwell leading up that said Stage Overlook. Up I went.

As I was climbing the stairs, I was still fuming a little about what an asshole the security guard had been, but then it struck me: He had treated me like a groupie trying to sneak into a concert because that’s exactly what I looked like. He’d bought it. Even when I’d told him who I was, he’d either not believed it or didn’t know my name. That was possible; I was far from a household name. But a thrill ran through me as I realized how convinced he’d been.

I came out on an upper platform where a couple other people with passes around their necks were watching the show. Several of them looked like groupies and I wondered if the guard had been partly serious when he’d said some of the guys were “available.”

But I didn’t spend long looking at the other people there once I started watching the band. Axel, the lead singer, was at center stage, but on the side of the stage closest to me was the guitar player, Mal. We’d met once or twice in passing at industry functions. My impression of him from those occasions was that he never smiled and rarely spoke, looming in the background like a judgmental gargoyle.

On stage, however, he was animated, explosive, leaping into the air with his guitar and then landing, flinging his long dark hair forward and then flipping it back with a head toss. He still didn’t smile, but he matched Axel’s energy with a feral grimace as he sang, and then he sauntered out onto the long runway into the audience, playing a solo and practically humping the guitar as he went.

Pure sex. One hundred percent pure sex that walked on two legs and played the guitar. When that song was over, he tore his shirt off and flung it into the audience. His arms and chest looked like something from a fitness-craze infomercial: You, too, can have these abs! These biceps! I certainly wouldn’t mind if he let me touch them for a while.

I was so caught up in the performance that I didn’t notice the others had left the viewing area until the band was taking their bows. One of the women I’d seen before came back up the stairs just as I was trying to figure out what to do with myself. “Come on,” she said. “If you want to get picked, right after the encore is the time.”

Get picked? I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I had some ideas. I followed her downstairs and toward the green room. We passed several doors with paper signs taped to them: Vocal Warmup Room, Wardrobe, Band Only. She led me into a room that was unmarked.

About a dozen women were there, some drinking bottled water from a tray on a table, some applying new lipstick, some gossiping. A few sat on folding chairs, but most of them were standing. I took my own lipstick out of my bag to give myself some time to figure everything out.

“I’ve been with Samson before,” a woman with thick black cat-eye liner similar to mine was saying to another. “But he tweeted this morning that he’s got a cold, so I don’t know if he’s partying tonight.”

“Last night of the tour? You better believe they’re all partying tonight,” the woman who’d come back to get me said. She had red hair and a thick studded belt wrapped twice around her hips. “I don’t care if he does have a cold. I wouldn’t mind being the bread on a Samson meat sandwich.” She gave the other woman a high five.

Okay, so it seemed as if “getting picked” did in fact mean what I’d guessed—that is, being chosen for sex.

“What’s your e-mail again?” Cat-Eye asked. “I want some of those photos you were taking tonight.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll be posting them on my website, too.” The redhead dug in her purse and pulled out a stack of business cards with a photo of the band on one side and her contact info on the other. “Here.” She handed them around. I took one so I wouldn’t be the only one refusing.

I should go to the party, I told myself. I didn’t really belong here. But I was curious how long I could keep it up. When would someone notice I didn’t belong?

A third woman joined us, downing a bottle of water. She looked like she had been dancing, her thin T-shirt sticking to her skin in places. “Is it true Mal is really rough?”

“Never been with Mal,” Cat-Eye said with a shrug. “You figure with all the bondage and stuff in their videos that at least one of them is mondo kinky. Mal seems the type.”

The woman who had brought me downstairs shrugged. “I saw them in Indianapolis with a friend. She said he’s huge.”

“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” I put in, and several of the women burst out laughing.

“Yeah, no pictures but she did have trouble walking the next day,” she said, which caused even more laughter.

The roadie who’d helped me earlier came in then and everyone quieted down instantly. He had a flashlight in one hand. “Okay, pussycats,” he said. “Mal’s ready.”

No one moved.

“Are you seriously telling me none of you is into the kinky shit?”

“I am,” I said, starting to raise my hand like I was in grammar school; then thinking a wild child wouldn’t do that, I ended it with a snap of my fingers.

“Great. Come with me.”

I kept thinking any moment now I’ll chicken out. Little did I know I was in for the night of my life.

About Cecilia Tan:

ceciliaI write about my passions, which include baseball, erotica, gourmet food, martial arts, tea, and travel. I write fantasy, science fiction, erotic fiction, paranormal romance, urban fantasy, BDSM romance, and anything else that stimulates my imagination.

I’ve been writing fiction professionally for over 25 years and lately I’ve started racking up awards–kind of neat! I was awarded Career Achievement in Erotica and the Pioneer Award in Erotic Fiction in 2015 by Romantic Times. My BDSM romance SLOW SURRENDER from Hachette/Grand Central Publishing/Forever won the RT Reviewers Choice Award in erotic romance, and the Maggie Award for Excellence from the Georgia chapter of the Romance Writers of America. A bunch more are listed at my website.

I’m the author of numerous other novels, many published as erotic romance with fantasy and science fiction settings, others published as sf/fantasy with erotic elements, some as erotica… which means I never know what to answer when people ask what genre they are. Fortunately here on Amazon they can be ALL of the above!

My work spans sexualities the same way it spans genres. I write heterosexual, gay, bisexual, and trans characters, and the eroticism runs the gamut from vanilla to bondage to transcendental magical sex.

I’m the author of the Magic University series, a four-book contemporary fantasy about a hidden magical school inside Harvard. The Prince’s Boy is my erotic gay high fantasy BDSM swashbuckling romance (not kidding). Daron’s Guitar Chronicles is my award-winning gay “coming out and coming of age in the 1980s” series. Struck by Lightning is my BDSM contemporary trilogy from Hachette. SECRETS OF A ROCK STAR is another three-book series of kinky rock star romances from Hachette. There is more in the works, too, of course! I’ll be starting an urban fantasy/paranormal series next year with Tor Books called THE VANISHED CHRONICLES.

In the erotic short story realm, I’ve been published everywhere from Ms. magazine to Penthouse to Nerve, and I’m in many, many anthologies and the Best American Erotica series. Susie Bright called me “simply one of the most important writers, editors, and innovators in contemporary American erotic literature.”

I’ve also edited many anthologies including Women of the Bite, Cowboy Lover, Sex In The System, Wicked Pleasures, SM Visions, for many different publishers, and many many books and ebooks for the independent publishing house I founded, Circlet Press. Those include Best Fantastic Erotica, Erotic Fantastic, Like an Animal, Like Crimson Droplets, and many others, both for Kindle and in paperback.

In science fiction/fantasy I have been published in Asimov’s magazine, Strange Horizons, Absolute Magnitude, and many other places.

I also write and edit baseball nonfiction under the name “Cecilia M. Tan.”

You can find out way more about me and my obsessions at http://www.ceciliatan.com

When I’m not writing, I’m traveling the world in search of foodie experiences, teaching martial arts, or geeking out about baseball.

 

 

 

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