On Aging and Readership
I was asked why I chose to write an Erotic Romance novel that portrays two lovers who qualify as either pre-menopausal or a borderline senior citizen. Writing these MCs in The Secret Life of Richard McCoy wasn’t intentional, but an evolution of sorts. I wanted to write characters I could relate with, who lived healthfully, possessed prodigious sexual appetites, combined with intellect and a well-developed wit.
But I think the real point here is the aging of an author’s readership, and may be more receptive to the concept of “older” MCs finding love and having hot, multiply orgasmic sexual interludes.
The original intention of writing The Secret Life of Richard McCoy was to showcase the resiliency of the human spirit. The female MC, Sally, overcomes many abrupt changes in her life over thirty years—building a career in a male-dominated sport (Grand Prix racing), only to experience the enormous life-changing event when she nearly dies in a track accident. Fear of living becomes her greatest challenge, so when Sally is suddenly faced with the prospect of handling her late husband’s financial and extra-marital issues that had been carefully hidden away, her own inner strength is tested. She artfully rises to the challenge with grace but out apology. As I wrote this novel, I realized I was prefacing more than Sally’s personal journey, I was also demonstrating that having a hot sex life after the age of fifty doesn’t have to rely on interventions like Viagra. Living healthy, being in tune with one’s body and spirit, and finding your soul mate serve as the essence of great lovemaking.
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An author of Fiction Noir, and Erotic Romance, Karen Kennedy Samoranos co-manages a music education business in the Bay Area with her husband, Clifford, focusing on jazz theory and live stage performance for children ages 5 through 18. She has four adult children, and four young grandchildren. In her off hours, she hikes, is an avid fisherman, and motorcyclist (both dirt and street), and an advocate for regular exercise, the modest consumption of red wine, and adherence to whole foods.
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“If it’s something you can’t change, ma’am, I’d understand,” said Vic. “What’s done is done.”
She didn’t know if he was referring to Richard’s death, or her husband’s personal and financial indiscretions, though it would be preposterous for Vic to have knowledge of Richard’s overall misconduct.
“But,” he went on, “if it’s a matter of money, then I have a proposal for you.”
She imagined he would ask to whisk away the sexual agitation that had been building these last few weeks. She wouldn’t mind putting her faith in a well-built man who oozed with vitality. Speculating beyond his flannel shirt and blue jeans, she envisioned his naked body. Would he have hair on every square inch of flesh, or only in specific areas? Because Sally didn’t mind a little hair, though a cloak of fur was just out of the question.
“It’s not about finances,” she assured, crossing her legs tightly beneath the table, which only made matters worse for her throbbing crotch. A vision of his lips tweaking her nipples flashed through her mind, and she blushed deeply.
“Mrs. McCoy, if you’re hell-bent on selling then why not sell only forty-nine percent of the winery to your employees and retain control of fifty-one percent?”
“Why not?” she said, futilely trying to put aside her oversexed drama.
She was relieved Vic Callahan hadn’t asked to sleep with her, though she was disappointed that he wouldn’t be servicing her physical needs. What a perfect arrangement it would be, a virile man at her disposal and too past his prime to demand carnal access to her morning, noon, and night, like a sex-crazed college student. Not that she’d mind, but—
“Mrs. McCoy, are you all right?” Vic asked, because her eyes had a faraway quality, and her cheeks were flushed.
“Yes. I’m fine,” she said, annoyed with her sexual single-mindedness. She imagined the expression of idiocy on her face. She couldn’t support her cause as a widow with wherewithal by behaving as though she had brain damage, when all she needed was a vigorous roll in the hay.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Callahan, I am considering your suggestion. It actually makes a lot of sense financially.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McCoy. Seems to me companies do better when they’re employee owned. And this way, you’d still get to keep major control of the winery.”
“It’s a very intelligent idea,” she agreed. She pushed away from the table, and stood, feeling the heat disperse from her inner thighs. She hoped he wouldn’t pick up on her horniness from his side of the room.
Vic got up quickly, and placed his hat on his head.
“Thank you, ma’am. Now, if I were you, thinking about selling a share of my winery, I’d pay for a smart attorney to keep in my pocket, one that’s versed in corporate law, to make sure I don’t get screwed.”
Screwed. She burned at that word intoned in Vic’s voice, and involuntarily licked her lips.
He smiled again, and she clenched her teeth to keep from reacting on a physical level. The man spoke with care in low tones and she supposed his face would eventually look like soft leather from years of exposure to the sun and wind. But at this age, he was attractive, his eyes sharp, and mannerisms infinitely seductive. That physically conditioned body of his was…well, beautiful came to mind, though she figured a man would be less inclined to consider this description of his own physique acceptable.
She decided he was sexy then, a must-ride. She could feel herself getting wet at the mere thought of straddling Vic Callahan buckaroo, draped across his willing hips, and feeling the smooth stroking of a stiff cock that surely must match his lithe, ageless build. Maybe he would grip her waist with those strong hands, encircling her naked buttocks, and draw her in.
She let her eyes rove, taking in his broad shoulders and wide chest, curving into muscled loins and a round posterior, a body a woman could enjoy in an erotic sense, even if the man who owned it seemed impervious to love. They were matched closely in height. The thought of kissing a man as enticing as Vic with a mere tilt of the chin made her heart pound. She wondered how his whiskers would feel brushing across her nipples and imagined pulling him in by his narrow hips, wrapping her legs around him while he thrust into her, uttering primal groans of pleasure in her ear—
Wow, what a great read. Thank you for sharing with us Karen!
Karen has generously decided to give and e-book copy of the book to one lucky commenter. So please leave a comment with your email address' at the bottom of this post for a chance to win it!
We'll announce the winner on Friday September 26th.
~Author Jennifer Labelle~