Guest Blog: Wicked by L.M. Pruitt

UFI welcomes Author L.M. Pruitt. Thanks for Joining us!!

Writing Sex (Scenes)

I’ll just come out and say it—sex is hard.

Sorry, that was a joke I couldn’t resist.

Moving along.

Writing sex scenes is difficult because, let’s face it, you’re walking a thin line. You might be too explicit for one person and too sweet for another. You might use a word you’ve always considered normal for the genre and then it turns out you’ve written something so comical it takes people completely out of the scene. Even when you’re supremely confident in your work, there might be a time when you’re so frustrated with everything that you seriously consider scraping sex from all your future books.

When that happens, I almost always turn to music—specifically to the sex playlist.

I think most of you know what I’m talking about when I say the sex playlist. It’s the list you have to get you in the mood, whatever the mood might be, so maybe you have more than one playlist. Just listening to the music makes you feel a little more in tune with your surroundings and yourself and…well, everything. My list changes depending on my mood and obviously music gets cycled in and out depending on the year. Still, there are some which I would consider favorites.

Criminal, Fiona Apple. Yes, it might be a bit obvious but I don’t care. It always puts me in the right mood.

The Hills, The Weeknd. Not the most romantic of songs but there’s something about his voice and the music itself which just feels sexy.

Hotel California, Eagles. Again, not a very romantic or sexy song—I mean, it’s essentially about hell or purgatory (take your pick). But for some reason it always makes me think of like a lazy Sunday afternoon lounging in bed with your sexytimes partner.

Obviously this is only a very tiny portion of the list as a whole but I think it’s enough to show my… diverse tastes. Share in the comments some of your go-to sexytimes songs!

__________________________________

Wicked
Damned #1

All things truly wicked start from innocence.

—Ernest Hemingway

Being a demon isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Especially when you make a massive mistake your first month on the job.

Even more so when your sister is one of the all-star players on the other team.

Add in the rumors of not one but two coups and it’s not hard to see—something wicked this way comes….

Excerpt #2:

I’d been wrong.

You could, in fact, be overdressed.

And in my case, I was very, very overdressed.

I tugged on Barry’s sleeve until he leaned down. Pressing my lips to his ear, I whispered, “Remind me to take your advice the next time you offer it.”

Every person in the room, archangel and human/Winged, was wearing jeans and boots. Some wore tank tops, others wore t-shirts or long-sleeved Henleys. Jackets were thrown on a chair in the corner which looked as if it was set there specifically for that purpose. Another corner had been turned in to some sort of nursery area, at least a dozen children of varying ages occupying themselves with toys which were, thankfully, quiet.

One by one, they all turned to look at me and Barry—or really, just me. I doubted Barry was the subject of the intense and blatant interest and scrutiny. I cleared my throat and offered a half-hearted wave. “Hello.”

Joanne looked up from the stack of papers in her lap and sighed. “Julie. Really?”

“What?” I lifted my chin, crossing my arms over my chest and frowning. Maybe it was her more than obvious disappointment, such a perfect mirror of my mother’s, but I was immediately defensive. “What’s wrong with this? I wore this to one of the country club events.”

“Which should have been an indicator that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the most suitable thing to wear.” She waved her hand around the room, which, while almost as luxuriously furnished as Barry’s was definitely still a tent. “Is there anything about this place which screams ‘country club’?”

“Or ‘ball’?” A tall, lanky redhead who looked as if he had more questions in life than answers laughed and shook his head. “We don’t have balls here.” He immediately closed his eyes and sighed. “Please, please forget I said that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll say something even stupider before the end of this meeting.” Gabriel nodded at me from across the room. “Nice to see you not looking like death warmed over.”

“You’ll have to forgive my brother—he’s recently developed what might be called a morbid sense of humor.” The man who seemed to always be within arms’ reach of Joanne stood, crossing the room and extending his hand. “We’ve met before but I understand you don’t remember me. I’m Michael.”

A vague memory, distorted by alcohol and time, drifted to the forefront of my mind. Ignoring his hand and narrowing my eyes, I said, “You mentioned something about escorting me to hell.”

“To be fair, I was annoyed at the time.” He lifted his brows, nodding pointedly at his still extended hand. “And I don’t think you’re in a position to be commenting on people’s manners given the male company you were keeping at the time.”

“Is there anybody who doesn’t know about David?” I threw my arms up, my voice spiking in annoyance. “Seriously, Joanne? Weren’t you the one who didn’t believe in spreading gossip?”

“There’s a world of difference between gossip and truth, Julie.” Her smile was far from amused. “And you’re being rude to my husband.”

“Wait—I thought the other one was your husband.” I glanced around the room, snapping my fingers and pointing at the man locked in conversation with Gideon. “That one. Raphael.”

“Yes?” He looked up, his eyes unfocused, his confusion obvious. “Did someone say my name?”

“Never mind. Go back to curing cancer.” Joanne waved her hand absently, her attention focused on me. “They’re both my husband.”

“Both of them?” I spun to face Barry, watching the entire scene with no expression whatsoever. “Seriously? Seriously?”

__________________________________

L.M. Pruitt has been reading and writing for as long as she can remember. A native of Florida with a love of New Orleans, she has the uncanny ability to find humor in most things and would probably kill a plastic plant. She knows this because she's killed bamboo. Twice.  She is the author of the Winged series, the Plaisir Coupable series, Jude Magdalyn series, the Moon Rising series, and Taken: A Frankie Post Novel.

Find L.M. Pruitt and her books

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Facebook

__________________________________