[Cue voice of Brian Butterfield] …

CARI SILVERWOOD’S NEW EROTIC ROMANCE PARODY, SQUIRM! 

Every erotic romance you’ve ever read over the past two years rolled into one handy novella. Horny virgin? Check. Fifty shades of Charlie Hunnam? Check. An enormous penis – I mean tentacle – that just won’t stop poking? Check.

Cue interview …

JANE: Does eau de biker have a two-stroke top note and can I buy it from Selfridges or John Lewis?

CARI: I hope you appreciate how much Googling I had to do for this – I’d heard of Selfridges though. To let the US and rest-of-the-world readers in on this, think Target and Walmart with a smidge more class.

I think two-stroke would be a wonderful way to describe this sought after perfume. Although the exact ingredients are a closely held secret by all motorcycle clubs, there’s definitely a base of petrol/gasoline along with the other obvious ingredients like beer, grease, and pizza leftovers.

I doubt you can buy it at Selfridges/Walmart due to the price being the blood of an untamed virgin … or the kiss of one. My inner voice just yelled at me that blood is too icky for a humorous story about a tentacle monster ravaging a virgin. Let’s stick with kiss.

JANE: As you know, women like their erotica light and flowery, because – let’s face it – as a gender, we’re all about puppies and kittens. That said, I see Squirm really pushes the boat out with regard to naughty, sexy language. Do you feel that you’re breaking down barriers by referring to Virginia Chase’s lady garden as a ‘downstairs department’ and how heavily were you influenced by the ground breaking work of E.L. James and Anastasia’s ‘down there’ area?

CARI: Oh my. Do other women have a downstairs department? Wow.

I’m not sure if I’m breaking anything except hymens in this story. Crap. Apparently that was crass, too. Pardon me.

In all seriousness, I don’t think there are very many erotic parodies out there. Hens’ teeth are a little more common. So in that way, I’m breaking new ground. I was taking a bit of a risk with Squirm. Although I can parry and riposte smart-ass witticisms on Facebook now and then, when the wind is coming from the right direction, I had no real reason to think I could do a whole funny book. I should probably get a medal for this.

I think the genre needs a bit of fun thrown in to counterbalance the enormous load of sheer passionate emotions erupting from the pages of most romances. There’s so much crazy. The lust. The passion! The devastation from almost dying due to the grief of breaking up with a boyfriend, and the weeping and the screams of Noooooooo when he leaves the toilet seat up. People just plain throwing their arms in the air, dancing, and being freaking crazy in LOVE.

Bikers, billionaires, rock stars, assassins, bunny rabbits, werewolves, vampires! Rock-hard cocks that come and go all night, only to then get used to beat up the ninjas springing through the window. All that.

I think I lost track of what I was talking about somewhere up above, but the world will tip off its axis if we don’t laugh a little.

With regards to the terms I used to refer to lady bits, I’ve probably set erotic fiction back by a decade.

Karl did say cunt, too, though. Does that count?

Excuse me while I quickly flash read that E.L. James work referred to above.

Whips, chains, an inner goddess, and a stalker. Lucky girl.

I was vaguely influenced by that other book. My lawyer told me to say that. *shifts on seat* Moving on?

JANE: Would you call Virginia size-ist?

CARI: She does like big schlongs, doesn’t she? Yes. She’s size-ist. Poor Jace was probably a perfectly good lay, even if he was easy, and only a measly nine inches.

JANE: Let’s talk influences. Bikers, billionaires and sea monsters – a natural venn diagram if ever there was one. In fact, I’m incredibly surprised that no one has thought to combine them in a story before. Danger, money and multiple appendages; it’s every woman’s fantasy come to life. To what extent did you base your characters on Byker Grove [if you click on this link, try not to fall over with laughter when you see that users who 'liked' this series also 'liked' Sons of Anarchy – the two have about as much in common as a bicycle tire and a cock ring], Wall Street and Paul the Psychic Octopus?

Not one bit. I based it on all the information that flows through my head daily. There’s a lot of stuff in there and though most of it is totally useless, sometimes I can make sense of it all. It’s not like that monkey pounding the typewriter keys analogy though. Mine is more like a shaken snow globe method. If it’s pretty and sparkles, it goes into the Word .doc.

I had a whole bunch of Beta readers from the Badass Brats street team for this and all they did was nod and cheer. Talk about monkeys. I’d sack them but they work for peanuts and bananas. And I love them.

My lawyer said to put that, too.

P.S. I’m so glad my tentacle, biker, billionaire fantasies tee up with yours. Multiple appendages is such a clever way to describe it and almost sounds acceptable to normal society. I’m writing that one down for my next tea party.

“Why yes, Janice, do have a cucumber sandwich. And when is your next appointment for a multiple appendage sex orgy?”

JANE: Lastly, let’s talk about Cari, the writer. How has Squirm challenged you and where do you feel it sits within your dark erotica oeuvre?

CARI: It was a rollercoaster ride. I’d been stewing on writing a parody for a year possibly – ever since I caught sight of the zillionaire vampire cowboy book. And then the Booty Call for Cthulhu hit me. Shucks.

I wouldn’t say it was a challenge as much as a surprise. I didn’t know I could do this. But it was easy to write and so much fun. I tried to get Sorcha Black to join in and she ran away screaming – despite an earlier promise to help write one of these.

Where does it sit within my dark erotica oeuvre? Gah. My fingers fell off retyping that last word.

It doesn’t. If it’s there at all Squirm is sitting fidgeting and looking sideways at the exit. This is a silly, short, monster sex book that pokes fun at everything I could get think of that fitted the plot. Admittedly some of the ideas were bunged in with a sledgehammer.

I’ve been told I’m an ADD author and this parody is a prime example of my wandering attention. It doesn’t even have to be shiny to attract me, just wriggly and able to be used in various orifices. Oh look! World’s biggest gummy worm!

Joking. I think.

From the cover:

A parody of everything great and weird in erotic romance that could be stuffed into one book without it exploding. 

For some girls, one tentacle isn’t enough. 

Having a bad day isn’t good but when Virginia Chaste has a bad day, she gets felt up by a tentacle monster. If it simply has to happen, let it at least be a billionaire and a hot biker. 

Virginity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and her search for the Holy Grail of Erotic Romance, the ten inch purple-headed schlong, may have finally borne fruit. 

Yeehaw! Playing hide the tentacle has never been so much fun. 

Ready for some tentacle love? Click on the following links to purchase a copy:

Amazon.co.uk

• Squirm – Kindle

Amazon.com

• Squirm – Kindle

Smashwords

• Squirm – ePub

*A big thank you to the delightful Cari for agreeing to step behind the curtain and subject herself to my ridiculous questions.

The post Squirm: Cari Silverwood talks inches, virgins, billionaires and tentacles appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Madeline Sheehan’s Hell’s Horsemen. Joanna Wylde’s Reapers.

Kurt Sutter’s Sons of Anarchy.

Every so often, a genre will send me on a complete and utter bender. I find something that strikes a chord and that’s it; for as long as I can find the reading material (or in this case, the celluloid) to feed the addiction, I’m a total junkie.

A few weeks back, I bought Madeline Sheehan’s Undeniable, the first book in her series about a biker club known as Hell’s Horsemen. It was, loosely speaking, a romance, but a brutal one. There were a lot of things in it that morally and ethically I didn’t agree with (the treatment of the women, the sanctioning of criminal activity) but the bottom line? It was like my eyes were super-glued to the train-wrecking pages.

Murder? Check.
Extreme violence? Check.
Abuse? Check.
Completely dysfunctional relationships between the characters? Check.
A happy ending? Eh. Well, Eva and Deuce are still breathing at the close.

In short, I haven’t buried myself in a book the way I did with Undeniable for quite a long while. I liked that it wasn’t a conventional romance. That it didn’t colour inside the lines. That I was kind of disgusted with myself for cheering the bad guys. I went and downloaded the second instalment in the series, Unbeautifully (which turned out to be just as compelling), the second I’d finished reading. When I hit the end of that one, though, my genre thirst was in full swing, the need for more of the same clawing at me like a hungry crow. Cue online searches for decent comparable material. My next stop? Joanna Wylde’s Reaper’s Property. More tattooed bad guys on bikes doing, once again, not very nice things. While a lot softer and not quite as deep and textured as Madeline Sheehan’s two offerings, it did go some way to quenching the thirst.

Then the discovery to end all discoveries: Sons of Anarchy.

There’s no denying I’m more of a reader than a TV-watcher but, holy shit, I can’t seem to tear myself away from this thing. It’s everything that made the Hell’s Horsemen books so compelling and then some. Sons is far more stylish, the characters infinitely more engaging, the plot lines far wilder. (Given that the series began in 2008 and is five seasons deep already, I’d be very surprised if it didn’t have at least some influence on Madeline Sheehan’s series, which debuted in October last year). Aided and abetted by Netflix, which is loaded seasons-deep with the lure of episode cliff-hangers to battle against on a daily basis, I’ve been roaring through five-years’ worth of biker drama with barely a pause for breath. The last series I had this kind of obsession with? Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I can recall being heavily pregnant during a re-run season and telling my husband I couldn’t go into labour until after Tubula Rasa, the one in which Buffy and Spike finally hook up, aired. (Yeah, yeah. I know.) Let’s just say that if Sons of Anarchy had been on then, I suspect I would have been 10 months along.

I think what’s pulled me so deeply with this show is the strength of the leading characters. Gemma Teller (played brilliantly by Katey Sagal of Married … with Children fame) is one of the best anti-heroines I’ve come across in a long time and Jax, who plays her son, the perfect knife-edge balance of criminal, bad boy, and gentleman. That deliciously unholy mix of dirty hands and good heart. The cast of slightly eccentric supporting characters is no less engaging. Tig (who reminds me in a lot of ways of Mr Blonde from Reservoir Dogs), the corrupt and completely loveable Chief Unser … they all add to the unusual (and sometimes unsavoury) SOA flavour. It’s not as tightly plotted as, say, The Sopranos, but the rawness of the Sons of Anarchy draws like a magnet. Oh, and the music? Well, this girl’s a die-hard rock chick and there are some beautiful, beautiful originals and covers to go with the drama (see my title clip choice), although I wish the sound team would stop plaything thrashy rock whenever the Sons ride down the highway.

I will nearly always push a book over a TV programme. But I’m going to break my rule for Sons of Anarchy.

In the words of Neil Young: Hey hey, my my.

Need an MC fix? Pick your poison …

• Sons of Anarchy – Amazon.co.uk
• Sons of Anarchy – Amazon.com
• Undeniable – Amazon.co.uk
• Undeniable – Amazon.com
• Unbeautifully – Amazon.co.uk
• Unbeautifully – Amazon.com
• Reaper’s Property – Amazon.co.uk
• Reaper’s Property – Amazon.com

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