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Guest Author ~ Martha Emms
I’m happy to have Author Martha Emms with us today. It’s all yours Martha!
I live in Southern California, with my youngest son, who’s going to college, and with our many cats. I won’t say how many or you will be identifying me as the crazy cat lady. Okay, so I am a bit crazy and I am The Cat Lady! Just not the kind you see hauled away on TV. I have three adult children. Two have left the nest and are serving in the military. My daughter is in the Air Force and my eldest son is in the Navy.
I am an avid reader. I read Ken Follett, Robyn Carr, Debbie Macomber, Tom Clancy, and Nora Roberts, just to name a few. Since I have entered the indie world, I am reading more indie authors and am very impressed.
I believe life prepared me to write. I remember at a young age I made up stories, songs, and poetry. It was always in me. I just needed to find the courage to share my voice. I have experienced, love, craziness, wild times, trauma, suffering, pain, drama and loss. From being robbed, having the muzzle of a gun shoved in my ear, being followed for years by a nut case, stalked, harassed, surviving major injuries and being in a coma after an auto accident, I understand a lot. I know I am in the beginning of my career, I still have a lot to learn, and I look forward to all the challenges coming my way.
I am an independently published author and I am proud to say that. There are many talented writers that are indies and even better is how nice, and supportive they are of each other. My first book, Portrait of Our Marriage, is adult fiction. The wonderful thing about being a writer is you create your own worlds. I’m really not sure how varied my genre will be as I go forward in my career, but I’m in the process of writing a sequel to Portrait of Our Marriage and also working on a family book with pets. And, yes, that includes cats.
I think I would have to say Nicky, the main character in my book, is my favorite. She embodies the inner struggles of many women today. Where a woman, wife, and mother, must decide about her own moral standards, sexual equality, and religion. With the media push of what is sexually okay, what the TV, and movies promote as acceptable. Nicky must decide what is acceptable for herself.
Some information for my book came from 8 women. Who on blind faith trusted me with stories of their husband’s addiction to porn. Even though I do not personally know these women I tried to stay true to the information they shared with me.
The most difficult thing to deal with regarding my book is getting a bad review because the reader wanted the fairy tale ending. I’ve tried to promote my book as honestly as possible and state it is a realistic romance, blatantly real.
I only have one book out and that is, Portrait of Our Marriage
Memoirs of Love, Family, the Internet, and Obsession. I use the pen name Martha Emms in honor of both my mom and aunt. My original inspiration for the story came to me in a dream after watching an episode of The Oprah Show that dealt with men being addicted to porn. In the dream I saw Nicky, the main character, viewing pictures, on a digital picture display device and she was remembering events throughout her life. The book title is descriptive of the story as Nicky, remembering those events through pictures, ultimately must face the changes in her life and marriage. I kept having the dream and different events would play out. Just like watching a movie. I knew there must be some meaning and I knew I had to write it.
Overcoming the strict influence of a domineering father, Nicky looks for adventure in her life. She meets and falls in love with the man of her dreams. He completes her in ways she never dreamed of. Emotionally and sexually, she had never known such love or freedom before.
Learning to overcome her fears and on her own, Nicky must learn to find herself, to value her own beliefs and to fight for what she holds dear.
Life, love, passion, marriage, family, all her dreams come true but over the years it becomes obvious that her husbands once casual interest in porn has become an obsession that has not only changed him, but their intimate life and marriage as well.
What should she do? What would you endure for love? Powerful, sexy, fun, thought provoking, blatantly realistic, Portrait of Our Marriage is an intense psychological romance that takes you behind closed doors into the forbidden and hidden world of porn addiction.
The romance will seduce you. A story you will not forget.
We embraced close enough that I felt a huge bulge, more than what I felt normally, harden and protrude from below. I moved back and looked at him, my questioning eyes went downward towards his boxers and he laughed out loud.
A hearty laugh! “It’s ah, something of a surprise for you from Beth,” he chuckled. “I actually feel pretty silly but she wanted me to gift wrap it for you.”
A puzzled expression spread across my face.
He moved away, turned his back to me and dropped his drawers, exposing his wonderfully chiseled ass. Then he turned to face me. His penis had a large white silk bow tied around it. Wrapped. It was actually wrapped. His penis was totally wrapped like a miniature mummy with a silk sash that tied into a bow at the top. I gasped and couldn’t control the laughs that escaped my lips.
Clapping my hands I exclaimed, moving forward, “I . . . am really going to have to find a special way to thank Beth. I love presents, especially those with bows on them.” I gently grabbed the bow while holding the wrapped appendage and pulled one of the tails loose. Undoing the bow, I began a slow unwrapping of my gift, torturing the bearer. Once unwrapped, I kissed the head. Yes, the one below. It wiggled and bounced upward.
“Not now,” I said. “That will come later.” And I tossed the ribbon to the ground.
Brett rubbed his hands over the silky material of my negligee. “This feels nice, soft,” he murmured, turning me so he faced my back. Carefully, he began untying the bows on the back of the nightgown.
“That’s one,” he said as he moved to untie the next bow. “That’s two,” he said nuzzling in between the silky fabric. His mouth pressed against me. He took his time, placing kisses across my back. “Hmm, and here’s three,” he untied the bow by the arch of my back then pushed the gown totally open.
The gown fell to the front; it slid down over my shoulders and across the tips of my breast as it fell to the ground. His palms glided down, caressing my sides and waist, then his mouth grazed across my skin, his breath hot. He slumped down onto his knees, untied the bow right over my butt, grabbed my panties, and pushed the fabric open, granting him access. He whispered, “That’s four.” Then he grabbed each buttock cheek, placed kisses slowly on each one until he ran his tongue up my lower back where he found a spot and sucked, pulling gently. I could feel the burn of my blood rising to the outer layer of my skin.
Parting my legs only slightly his finger entered me. Feeling my wetness, he moaned, “Mmmm, you’re so warm. You feel so wonderful, like honey. You’re almost ready.” He proceeded to suckle four areas by the dimpled area of my lower back, branding me with hickeys while fingering me, stimulation that sent me over the edge.
I could stand no more and turned to face him. Grabbing the front of my panties he pulled them down. He kissed me there. Parting my legs, his tongue entered flickering and teasing. He began his loving assault. My hands on his head, the side of his face, I held him to me and begged, “I . . . want, want . . .”
“What do you want, tell me?” He asked as he brought me down with him, on top of the sleeping bags.
“Oh God Brett, I want you. Only you!” I cried out.
I lay back naked, aroused, and open under his gaze. Cupping the mounds of my breasts he licked, sucked, bringing them to life. They were pink, pointed, puffy, and throbbing. I ached for him, my hips wiggled to seduce him as he held himself over me, and then, in a frenzy, we joined. It was if he took control of my body and I was his. Our thrusting became a playful form of sexual sparring. We laughed, giggled, and moaned, sweating profusely. When Brett could go no more, both of us were fulfilled and complete. The hot mound between my legs was now swollen with a heartbeat of its own, still vibrating from our coming. Nothing was as wonderful as a well-loved body. It was like being reborn. Cradled in Brett’s arms, my one arm rested across his chest, I smiled a most contented smile. This man was my husband.
I am scheduled to be on Thomas Rydders Blog:
“Chatting with the Authors” interview on Feb 19th http://thomasrydder.wordpress.com/category/chatting-with-the-authors-interviews/