Saturday, May 12, 2012

Fifty Shades of Zane . . . Grey by Alexis Thacker

The Hottest Western You’ve Never Read!
The line for pony rides starts on the right.
A historical urban western erotic romance, destined to be self published and change the way you think of Mormons. And erotica. And common sense.

YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO READ IT!  Come on, you know you were thinking it too!
What some people will do to actually keep from finishing our serious projects. It's my mashup of random Zane books, Zane Grey's Riders of the Purple Sage the ever popular Fifty Shades of Grey, not to mention a teeny tiny shot from Zane Lamprey (host of Drinking Made Easy - 'cause you've got to be seriously loaded to read this crap).

Join the fun - add your own additions and chapters in the comments or send them to me and I'll add them to this glorious book in the making - bound to be a major motion picture nowhere on the planet.

This hot, steaming sack of serial starts here today! Get it now before we undercharge on Amazon.  FREE (so who would pay?) I'll get it into .mobi and pdf in a few days for those of you who actually want to taint your e-readers with this mess. 

Don't forget the drinking game. Take a shot whenever you see the following:
  • holy crap
  • Oh my
  • Laters baby
  • inner goddess
  • grey eyes
Here's the first ultra-exciting chapter below the jump (click on the Read More link)!

WARNING: Coarse archaic language alert! Boredom may ensue.
Bonus points if you can tell what Zane stories we vandalized.

Chapter One      I Ain’t New To This Rodeo, Cowboy.

   Shaniqua  Jane Golaszewski was on her way out of downtown Purplewoods after an extremely bad date to see the movie ‘Cowboys and Aliens’ .  Well, anyplace you went in that one horse town was downtown.  Clouds of yellow dust drifted from under the cottonwoods out over the sage as the sharp clip-crop of iron shod hooves reminded her of what was missing in her life.

   Shaniqua gazed down the wide purple slope with dreamy and troubled eyes.  Her date had just left her and it was his method or maybe the lack of one that held her thoughtful and almost sad. Other men, missionary no more, were coming to resent and attack her unorthodox use of leather riding accessories and seven thousand head of cattle. Her thoughts roamed to the last time a riding crop had been put to good use by one addicted such as she. Oh my.

    She was on her way back to the G Spot ranch, named for her great grandpa. Why couldn’t a six foot two cattle rustler who hadn’t removed his boots since Grant took Richmond give her the thrills and chills she felt when she watched Grey Venters shirtlessly shoe horses back in the village? Oh my.

   She remembered the day Venters roped her in – the grey eyed, dusty booted and long spurred rider clanked noisily into the grove of cottonwoods in his prized mustang, rockin’ Jay Z’s  “99 problems”.  She had invited him to ‘shoe her horses’ and he said it could be done in 2 days “long as she let him keep his iron hot.”  She had dreamt of one day being branded by him.

   It was raining. She goes out to the fence to meet him. She gets soaked. He was tired. He had been riding long and hard. She led him to a room with a fireplace and small table with a white linen tablecloth with several burning candles.  It was grandpappy’s old room; the one with the huge bed that needed risers just to get into it.

   She brought him a meal of steak and beans and some of cousin Dom P’s sparkling moonshine. He had laid out his saddle blanket in front of the fire to dry off. His grey eyes dance with reflected fire.

   In an accusatory tone he asked “Shaniqua Jane, did you eat?” She shakes her head. He clenches his jaw, “You need to eat.”

   “Are you scolding me?”

   “You are lucky that is all I’m doing. If you were mine,  I’d be smackin’ that ass and you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week.” He shudders as dread is etched on this face.  Only Grey Venters could sound so calm and threatening at the same time. All she can think is ‘Kiss me dammit!’ Her inner goddess is looking for a rubber.

   As if to answer her he says, “Shaniqua Jane, I am not the man for you.”  Oh no, he doesn’t want me!

   He brings her to her knees on the blanket and feeds her beans. She sucks the bean juice off of his finger. They kiss. Deeply. She runs her fingernails down his spine, he slides her wet apron off. 

   He can see her hard nipples protruding through her cotton dress. He pulls her dress down, cups her left breast and suckles her right nipple.  His hands wander under her petticoats. He finds she had not gone rancho commando that day as he had. He poked his head up under the skirts and mumbled, “I’m addicted to your purple panties. I find what’s beneath quite succulent. It makes me nervous to want to chronicle every bit of your sex.”

   Oh Grey Venter, I love the way you talk. “I hope you haven’t been visiting too many of the ladies in the saloons in town." Holy crap! "I’d hate to get an afterburn."

   Grey smiled wickedly. “No worries. Put on this blindfold. We will let the donkey have you first.”

    So he did. And she wanted more. She had been so inexperienced and he had brought her pleasure as she had never known.

   Two days later he was gone, her farm animals sated.  She finds a plain box at her door. She reads the note and recognizes the work of Thomas Hardy:

Why didn't you tell me there was danger in men-folk? Why didn't you warn me? Ladies know what to fend hands against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks; but I never had the chance o' learning in that way, and you did not help me!"

   That is so hot! There is nothing like a well read and well hung cowboy. On a horse.  
With leather. 

And boots.

And some rope.

Yeah, lot’s o’ rope.

And chaps.

And a six-shooter.

And those spiky boot spinning thingys digging into my raw, plump, rear end. Yeah.

Spurs, baby, spurs.
Holy crap.


   Shaniqua Jane prayed that the tranquilty and sweetness of her life would be permanently disrupted. She meant to do so much more with those leather accessories than she had done with him that rainy night. No matter her birthright she would always be a friend to hot and uncircumcised Gentiles. She wished only to go on feeling good and being happy. And she thought of what that great ranch meant to her. She loved it all. The cottonwoods, the old stone house, the amber tinted water, and the droves of shaggy, dusty horses and mustangs, the sleek clean-limbed, blooded racers, and the browsing herds of cattle and the lean, sun-browned riders of the sage. Oh yeah, the hot brown brothers. Riding that pony. Yeah, you know it's coming - Oh my.

   As she neared her ranch, the rapid beat of hoofs received her attention. A group of riders centered up the lane, dismounted, and threw their bridles. Seven in number, Tull the leader and elder of her church approached her. 

   “Why do you defend the worthless rider, Venters?” he asked. “I’m sick of seeing this fellow Venters hang around you. I’m going to put a stop to it.”

   “Worthless! He’s nothing of the kind. He the best rider I ever had. He rides my hide like no one else can. And if you accuse him of being mixed up in that shooting fray in the village – he was with me at the time.  Bring a couple of your boys over here and some of that rope on your horse and I’ll demonstrate what he’s been teaching me.

   Shaniqua Jane dismounted her horse and prepared to mount as many riders as she could to save Grey Venters’ life.  She looked on as Tull’s men appeared under the cottonwoods leading a young, rugged man out into the lane. He stood tall and straight, his wide shoulders flung back, with the muscles of his bound arms rippling and an blue flame of defiance in the gaze he bent on Tull.

   She could not help but to allow her eyes to follow his thorn tattoo that circled his waist and disappeared below his navel leading to a bramble patch below his pants that hung on his hips, which she had wallowed in just days before. 

   Tull spoke tensely, “Venters, will you leave Purplewoods forever? If you do not, you will be ruined; but not until after I have my way with you.”

   “You’ve already ruined me! You hound me whenever I come to see the fine ass woman. You set your men on me. You could have at least used KY the first time! I have nothing more to lose—except my life. You are jealous because you want her ranch for yourself. Not to mention that tight, unbridled pus –”

   Tull’s hard erection protruded, and rioting blood corded the veins beneath his pants. Shaniqua Jane was just waiting for the fallout. “I’ll have you whipped within an inch of your life before I turn you out in the sage!”

    Venters raised his head, “You already turned me out, I’m just waiting for you to turn me on. Get to whipping – and make it burn. That’s how I like it. Right, Shannie J?”

    "Forshizzle. Laters baby." Shaniqua Jane said with raised eyebrow, narrowed and darkened eyes, pouting lips, wicked smile, twitching nose and tongue all up in her palate.

    Tull lifted a shaking finger toward Shaniqua. “Your father left you wealth and power and it has turned your head. We’ve let you have your fling, but you haven’t come to your senses. 

   “Oh no, don’t whip him. It would be dastardly boring coming from you. Let me!” implored Shaniqua Jane.

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