SORI Samples

Greetings, Beloveds. How long have I been speaking of my upcoming solo anthology? For far too long, to be sure. However, I am highly pleased to announce that the official release is less than 2 months away.

cool-text-syncopation-219617772239910cool-text-of-219617890536010cool-text-ravishing-intensity-219617820840820Is soon to be on its way to you, my dear readers and followers.

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People often ask me what sets my writing apart from other contemporary LGBTQIA authors. That is a complex question to answer. You see, it is not just one thing, it is many. First and foremost, I do not consider myself contemporary.

To me, “contemporary literature” implies tending, mainstream, like most; those are three things that my writing and stories are not. Not that there is anything wrong with contemporary works. As a matter of fact, I enjoy many contemporary authors. However, if I were to classify my writing, I would call it antiquated and whimsical. I realize that my writing style is as unusual as I am, and with that, I am perfectly content.

I once asked a fan what was her analysis of my writing, and her words were humbling and honoring. She said, “There is something about the way you write about sex. You don’t write about sex as if it were just sex, but rather it comes across art.”

If I were to be completely candid, THAT is exactly how I see it. To me, sex is an experience, not an action. Every experience should be surreal and otherworldly, it should stay with you forever. Experiences should be something far from mundane or redundant. So should sex be. Intercourse is a merging of hearts and souls, what is more magical and unearthly than that? Not many things. However, when sex is defined as a carnal act, all of the magic is expunged and so is all of the beauty.

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Why, you must be wondering? Why must sex be so appealing if it is simply an act that should appease our carnal need? Well, while that might be true for some, to me, sex and love go hand in hand. What is not beautiful about love? Love transcends the vulgarity of corporal wantonness. Love is an ethereal, tactile sensation that run deep and is paramount to everything and anything.

The fact of the matter is that love is love. Love eclipses gender, age, ethnicity, and boundaries of any kind. And if sex is love enacted, then it should be just as influential.

With that said, allow me to share tidbits of the “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” with you.

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Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” is divided into seasons, with winter being the first in line. Also, I decided to use a variety of writing styles; first person, third person, past tense, as well as present. One thing they all have in common is the sensual intense element. Here are some excerpt from each season.

Winter

Excerpt of “Prismatic Slumber”

I dream in color. Like a vivid, luminescent prism, everything comes to thriving life, and then there he is with me.

Sleigh bells dangling from the edge of the bed jingle whenever I slide deep inside of his scrumptious cleft.

Silver tinsel, tangled around our feet.

How did it get there? When did we play with it? It doesn’t matter.

Only partially covered by a Santa Claus fleece blanket, our skin touches underneath—intense heat emanating from it. In the background Bobby Helms “Jingle Bell Rock” plays, only loud enough to drown our elate moaning.

Yet, I want more. I pine for more than just his body and skin, I thirst for the intimacy of his presence; for the puissance of his soul. More than that, I endeavor to monopolize it. Make him, in every sense of the word, mine and mine alone—for the keeping.

Droplets of perspiration trickle down my chest as I drift my manhood in and out of his dewy cavity, then land on his backside and slowly stream onto the blanket.

Even in my state of deep dormancy I can smell the mustiness of our combined scents and it entices every fragment of my being at a cellular level. Every hair on my body stands on end.

Perhaps, it’s the ferociousness of our intimate encounter, perhaps the fact that I’d been longing for this moment for quite some time. Either way, he is mine now, and I am relishing in the satisfaction that only he can bring—my night time companion.

Why is he only with me in my dreams? When did he start visiting me here? Where did he come from?

All inconsequential questions. They had no place here in my Holiday Repose.

Spring

Excerpt of “Metamorphosis”

Metamorphosis, definition:

The process of transformation from an immature form to an adult form in two or more distinct stages. A change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means.

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I am a butterfly.

The beauty of life is found in the mundane matters of evolution. Therefore, I am a butterfly.

When I was an egg, the shell kept me from breaking free. It prohibited me from being whom I was meant to be. Yet, there was a miraculous event occurring; I was developing. Readying for the inevitable exodus which was about to transpire.

I suppose the world was not ready for me then. Perhaps, preparing for the spectacular event which was about to unfold.

I was being born. Born anew. Born from freedom, from evolution, from self.

My development came in stages—each one in the form of a man—every one more powerful than the last. Making me stronger, until it eventually transmuted me into the man I am today.

A Pieridae. Mystical, magical and powerful.

Summer

Excerpt of “Tyronian Rapture”

Summer 1841

Victorian England

Cherry Blossom petals from a tree procured in Japan carried adrift with the breeze, the smell of humidity and grass rode past, wafting across beautiful Regina’s face and all I could do was sit and stare. She was lovely in every sense of the limited word, for her resplendence was akin to a celestial being. An angel, to be sure; like none I had ever laid eyes upon. She took my breath away, and I was content to let her.

Her large eyes, chocolatey. Her skin, like the finest grade of caramel. Her unwieldy, black curls pulled to the back of her head in a bun. And the conundrum lie in my desire to see them lose and entangled in my hands. A coveting more trenchant than my knowledge that it was ungodly. I was captured by my dear Regina’s beauty. Her full lips longed to be licked, while I imagined that her smooth skin and voluptuous curves yearned to be caressed.

From a distance I basked in her allurement, secretly—watching as she picked the wild flowers from the field in order to prepare a centerpiece for our dinner table for tea. If I could walk through the window ajar as a phantom, then as a phantom I would delight in her existence.

The impasse, my predilection. The penchant to fancy the reprobate. And, whilst my heart and mind remained enthralled by my point of desire, my body lay captive inside of this wretched place.

“Meredith,” Mother called, startling me from my hypnosis—Regina. Such was the effect she had on me. In my dreams I touched every inch of her exquisite dark sheath, then kissed every fraction, ensuring to not miss a spot.

Autumn

Excerpt of “He and She”

She looked at herself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person she saw. A stranger in the absolute. A woman who loved the hustle and bustle of the nightlife but was full of regrets in the morning. A woman who longed for the attentions of an outsider to fill the voids of desolation that she’d come to know as her closest ally.

Yet, it was more than that. Her reflection was a stranger, always had been. Looking at her mirror image, Yehanna considered that she’d been born with the wrong face. Perhaps the Fates had misrepresented what she was really supposed to look like—gotten it wrong somehow. She was a foreigner to herself, usurped the body of another, or at least that’s what Yehanna told herself on a daily basis.

Grazing her finger across one check in the dimly lit bathroom of a tattered old apartment, which was falling apart at the seams, Yehanna moved her face from left to right, then back again.

As a teenager she’d be diagnosed with Depersonalization Disorder, DPD for short. However, what the psychiatrist failed to realize was that Yehanna wasn’t depersonalized—as she knew who she was—she was just living inside of a supplement. A loaned body, that was not her own. One, that she often did not identify with, plain and simple.

Perhaps her true body had been left behind in some previous incarnation of herself, and this one was provisional. Either way, it didn’t matter. Yehanna had grown tired of the monotonous nature of her ever questionable existence, and the night was the only thing that offered her solace.

With the tip of her finger Yehanna brushed her nose from bridge to point, then across her top lip as if to check and make sure that her features were her own.

From her bedroom emitted the voice of a man whom was just now waking up and preferably sobering from Yehanna’s late night feat. “Yo! Umm, umm …” he stammered.

“Yehanna.”

“Yeah, Yehanna,” he cut in as if he’d known her name all along, but Yehanna knew that he didn’t. “What time is it?”

“11:10.” she replied, her entire disposition displaced, and dejected.

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There are nine more stories where these came from and they will all be available to you on January 27th, 2016. So, my dear readers, stay tuned for the release of “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity“.

Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity

Greetings. 🙂

Commencing this blog post as though in the middle of a conversation …

One of my favorite pieces from the upcoming “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” is a story I wrote called “Tyronian Rapture“.

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Tyronian Rapture” is a historical LGBT Erotic Romance. Focusing on Meredith, a young white well off women who is enraptured by Regina, the black daughter of the family’s house servant.

This piece, whiles short is very powerful because of the story inside of the Erotica. This is a story of secret love which it vexed twofold; the fact that it is lesbian love, and the fact that it is also interracial love. Two times the taboo.

Please, enjoy this excerpt. I pray that you enjoy it.

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Tyronian Rapture

By: Adonis Mann

© Adonis Mann & All Authors Publishing House

line-dividerSummer 1841

Victorian England

Cherry Blossom petals from a tree procured in Japan carried adrift with the breeze, the smell of humidity and grass rode past, wafting across beautiful Regina’s face and all I could do was sit and stare. She was lovely in every sense of the limited word, for her resplendence was akin to a celestial being. An angel, to be sure. Like none I had ever laid eyes upon. She took my breath away, and I was content to let her.

Her large eyes, chocolatey. Her skin, like the finest grade of caramel. Her unwieldy, black curls pulled to the back of her head in a bun. And the conundrum lie in my desire to see them lose and entangled in my hands. A coveting more trenchant than my knowledge that it was ungodly. I was captured by my dear Regina’s beauty. Her full lips longed to be licked, while I imagined that her smooth skin and voluptuous curves yearned to be caressed.

From a distance I basked in her allurement, secretly—watching as she picked the wild flowers from the field in order to prepare a centerpiece for our dinner table for tea. If I could walk through the window ajar as a phantom, then as a phantom I would delight in her existence.

The impasse, my predilection. The penchant to fancy the reprobate. And, whilst my heart and mind remained enthralled by my point of desire, my body lay captive inside of this wretched place.

“Meredith,” Mother called, startling me from my hypnosis, Regina. Such was the effect she had on me. In my dreams I touched every inch of her exquisite dark sheath, then kissed every fraction, ensuring to not miss a spot.

“Meredith, child, come here. Must you always sit there like a proper simpleton, staring upon nothingness? Come here at once!”

“Yes mother,” I replied as I lowered my head to the ground in reverence of her heed. A curtsey followed.

“Mary, do you see this here?” Mother asked Regina’s mother, the head handmaiden of our family home. Their family had been with ours for years, therefore a trusted lot. “This child is so restless and overzealous …” Mother indirectly reprimanded, addressing Mary while speaking of me, then ending her admonition with a tsk. “Meredith, why do you trot about like a boy? ‘Tis not the proper behavior for a lady.”

My reply was a humble shrug, and the lowering of my eyes to the ground. Mother never knew when to vacate a subject, therefore continued with her vexing drivel, concluding her parlance with a “… would you please sew it, darling? Thank you.” the statement was followed by a flip of the wrist in dismissal of sweet Mary whom then left the room.

line-dividerI sincerely hope that you’ve enjoyed reading this excerpt as much as I’ve enjoyed writing the story. I pray that you are ready and willing to give “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” as shot once it is released this winter.

Until soon,

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A Group for LGBT Authors and Readers

Hello all and Happy New Year 2016!

It is so wonderful to connect with you all on this new year, and even more wonderful to realize that we have yet another year to make our dreams come true.

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Today, I was browsing Google+ an Facebook for “Groups/Communities” to join that would help provide exposure to my works. What I found troubled me. There are little to no Groups/Communities on Facebook and Google+ for LGBTQIA books and book lovers. The ones that I did find do not give much leeway for authors and readers to connect, or for authors to promote their works.

After browsing and thinking about the situation deeply, and knowing that perhaps I am doing a bit too much, I opted to create a Group for said purpose. And, so I did.

I would like to introduce you to “LGBT Bookworms“, a Facebook group for authors and readers alike.

LGBT Bookworms

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My hope is that this group will acquire a life of its own and people within the community—as well as others that enjoy the literature—might commune, mingle and celebrate our love for the genre.

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I am blogging about this in the hopes that you help me spread the word and get people involved.

Thank you for your time and all the best.

Regards and love,

Adonis Mann

It Is Out!

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Hello and welcome! Today we are celebrating the official Book Release of “Simmer: Smoothe & Sweet” by me, Adonis Mann and Synful Desire, as well as “H.E.R.: Handy Extended Release” by Synful Desire.

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donny posterBlurb:

When love simmers sweet and passion simmers smooth, rhapsody is efficacious rapture.

Tommy and Spencer were meant for each other, that is, until a serendipitous encounter proves to be an enormous revelation. Will Luke, Tommy’s childhood friend, serve to change the tide?

Kesha has finally told Teresa about her feelings. The only drawback is Teresa’s engagement to Chris. Will Kesha bask in the bliss that only Teresa can bring, or will Chris get in the way?

Come feel the ardent emotions which steam under a silky surface with Simmer: Smoothe & Sweet .

Available at Amazon.com

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Erotic
Never underestimate the steam of a hot caffeinated beverage infused

with the flavor of imagination. Wake up your senses while savoring “Kona”.

Experimental
A simple ad gives a curious skeptic a lot more than he was bargaining for. Check out the hair-raising experience while combing through “Tresses”.

Entertaining
Darbi has her share of bad luck. She is unexpectedly in job purgatory and has no chance of ever getting a promotion. Her online dating profile sat months without any responses. Why should she continue?

As she signed on to delete everything entirely, three responses catch her eye. All are different but each has something about them which makes Darbi want to meet all three. Ade appears to be the guy next door. Boyde looks like a supermodel. Choise looks like the rugged type.

When all is not what it seems, Darbi has concluded that her love life is mating with her job status in purgatory. Will anything come in handy to turn her luck around?

This version of “Handy” includes an epilogue, as well as Darbi speak.

Erotic, Experimental, and Entertaining—All come in Handy when experiencing a Good Release.

Available at Amazon.com

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Writing Style and Solitude

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I often wonder if writing style and market isolation go hand in hand.

While I realize that this is a rather odd remark, there is a reason for it.

A few days ago my Mentor asked me a question. She asked:

“Adonis, do you believe your writing style will invite or isolate your target audience?”

Admittedly, this is a question that I’ve pondered time and time again. Specifically, because I know that my writing style is not like what’s on the market today, which (as it appears) people seem to appreciate much more.

Here, allow me to elaborate a tad.

Paranormal Authors, are able to invite and later isolate their audience, as they know what they are delivering.

Horror Authors, do the same. So on and so forth. Every author that knows his/her market and target audience is able to isolate them accordingly and upon that, build a faithful following.

Now, going back to what I was saying …

I have a very eclectic approach to writing, a largely contrasting style than most erotica writers nowadays. Which also makes it challenging to accrue a following altogether. As it seems, most readers and writers in this day and time prefer a more mundane and unromantic path to erotic literature. If it’s simple and crass, it’s preferred, for whatever odd reason.

Before I go on, I suppose that I should take this moment to interject some very important thoughts as it pertains to what is going to follow.

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When I first started writing, I was under the assumption that I was going to write specifically for the LGBTQIA reader.

What I’ve learned since is that while that community is my primary audience, they are not my only audience. I’ve actually found, with time, that Sapiosexuals have grown a fondness to my writing style, which I suppose is to be expected.

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It’s very intriguing actually. I’ll explain why.

Coming into the writing world, I knew that I wanted to do one thing; write for the community which I represented, namely LGBTQIA.

However, along the line I discovered a few things:

  1. The literary world as I knew has change profusely. Due to that, my writing style might not be what is “hot” in today’s market.
  2. Most people enjoy straightforward erotica, with little to no foreplay. This is to say, that today’s reading public would much rather “get to the point” than enjoy the ride.
  3. For me “enjoying the ride” is just as important, if not more, than getting to the point.
  4. Boorish and speedy erotica is simply not my cup of tea. It’s not my makeup. I may be old-fashioned, out dated even, but I love “romancing the words” as my Publisher would put it.

In seeing these things, I’ve realized that my target audience may vary drastically from what I initially surmised it would be.

In the grand scheme of things, I am okay with that.

While sometimes I may feel misunderstood as some simply do not comprehend my literature—I tend to steer clear of foul verbiage, allowing the sensual words to shine through—I suppose, I’ve grown to accept that perhaps my style of writing was made for the admirer of “a little something more”.

It is quite possible that my writing was made for the lover of the game, but not for those who only aspire to solely obtain the goal.

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All of that being said, it is time to address the above question …

Do you believe your writing style will invite or isolate your target audience?

I’ve also learned something imperative. Invitation and isolation work together in this field. At first one invites, and upon identifying who appreciates ones works, one isolates.

More are welcome, of course. However, I’ve found that it’s a matter of knowing who you are writing for and going from there.

SO …

Since it is difficult for some people to completely grasp my technique, I’ve accepted that not everyone will appreciate it. More than that, I’ve come to terms with that fact that my literature may only be accepted by those who understand what I am going for.

That being …

Intellectually Stimulating AND Sexually Stimulating Erotica.

I, Adonis Mann, write for the Sapiosexual community as a whole—LGBTQIA and Straight, alike. I write for those that yearn for a deep satisfaction in the sensuous aspect of diction.

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I do hope that many feel invited to try my prose; absolutely. If that happens then there is a big possibility that my writing style will isolate my target audience. I pray that it does.

I, of course, am no professional in these thing so I cannot say for sure.

However, if it does, I am content with that.

Until Next Time,

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