Covering Rose with Modesty

by Rose Maru

Overview

All the fun, all the prose, all the Rose - except now without the pictures that included "squishy bits" (bottoms, fronts, and tops - no jokes about how that leaves only the truly offensive view of my farm-life feet and hands, which even I agree is pretty darn disgusting - and don't get me started how one stupid "bull hop" semen collecting episode ruined me from ever being able to wear cute shoes after he landed on my toes). Long way to say, this book has finally been cleared of the detritus that was glutes and buttocks, lactation enabled (female) nipples and breasts, and hints of vulvas (also only restricted to females).
Which should leave most of the fun still intact and ready for the reader to experience the trials, tribulations, and heart dropping life of a pretend model, putting it all out there for her fans and readers alike. All while our intrepid heroine (dammit: is that the illicit drug or the butt-kicking woman that saves the day?) (Oh! Wait: in this book, she kicks shins: butts can't be shown.) fights her daily battle with Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder (HSDD/HSDS).
Yes, facing the evils of a world equipped to recognize and actually *want* to experience sex, how does someone muddle through this disparate life; especially one that decades ago was described as "sexy beast girl" who insisted she had to lose her virginity, "Like NOW!" Now, facing premature menopause, too many trips to the gym required to keep the donuts off the thighs, and realizing not having sex in a loving marriage turns out to be a bad idea. She just can't figure out why (for any of the three).
Covering Rose with Modesty is my piece of tale (I got the joke! After someone explained it to me.) through the related tales of producing my cover art for each of my first twelve books along with distant memories and the usual little snips of sensual fiction used in my therapy for HSDD.
If you've seen any of my previous books, this one gives you a peek below the covers at my world where sexless thoughts clash dangerously with my desire to be a pretend model through the entire artistic process.
There's bound to be something in this heaping pile to entertain, entice, and if you're not careful, educate: The process, work flow, discussion with photographer / artist and model, my own confessions, bloopers / boopers, jokes and gags, anatomy and shaving challenges, and a guest appearance (much to my dismay) by my toys. Yeah, those kind of toys (gulp) (stop reading, dad!) And, as always, the Truth and Consequences in the back of the book for every piece.
So come along with this sexless wonder to experience my pretend model life while having HSDD scream out, "Modesty! You have met your match."

Product Details

BN ID:	2940155909491
Publisher:	Rose Maru
Publication date:	12/12/2018
Series:	Visual Rose - Art vs. the Establishment: Rose Be Banned
Sold by:	Smashwords
Format:	eBook
File size:	7 MB
Age Range:	18 Years

About the Author

Born a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... no, wait, that wasn't me, but sometimes it certainly seems like it.

Before getting into all the fun details, I want to clear the air of a rather large aspect of my writing because it has a huge impact on my work: I have HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome). In fact, if it weren't for my HSDS, I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't be there reading this - my previously unpublished writings were explorations into kick-starting my, ahem, 'motor.' I tried to explore anything that might cause a little tingle below, even ideas and concepts my thinking brain refused to hear. Creating an alter-ego in my stories allowed me to safely penetrate the veil of non-existence - I was forced to think about sexy thoughts and situations.

I wrote for years covering a wide range of topics, my husband providing a large number of seedlings from which to grow my stories (HSDS... what do you expect? Much to my dismay, what I learned to expect was very raunchy pillow-talk. Much to his dismay, he learned to expect me to leap from bed saying, "Oh! That is so good, I've got to write it down!"). It turns out, writing romantic erotica usually wasn't doing it for me. I gave up on it for a period of time - in essence, I gave up trying to help myself, as well.

Then my significant's bright idea: if it didn't help me, maybe it would help someone else. I was back to writing again, or more correctly, preparing my work for release unto an unsuspecting public (I have now officially absolved myself from any evil that befalls you after reading my books - it's all his fault). So I dredged up my folder of rough and unpolished stories - damn, I wrote this much? No wonder I wasn't having sex, I was busy writing about it. (Fib alert: so not true it's not funny. Not the 'not having sex' part, but the lack of bedroom action wasn't really due to my writing.)

An odd thing happened, though, as I was rereading my material and editing it. I felt a little something that I hadn't experienced in a long time. I actually felt a little tingle from down below. That soft little call, while editing some stories, started to get a little louder - still very quiet, but it was most certainly there where it hadn't been for decades. I gave in to the siren call almost immediately - surprised the hell out of my husband (thank goodness it wasn't the UPS guy at the door during those moments). Complete, spontaneous, due-to-my-doing rumpy-bumpy. Holy humper, Batman, I'm fixed!

I wish. It disappeared again, just as easily slipping back into my 'normal abnormal' routine of never thinking about it within hours. Back to editing. Being the patient sort, I allowed myself to edit a whole three paragraphs before anguish sets in, "It's not working! Ah! I'm broken forever!" Luckily, I have a never say die attitude (Fib alert: ... no, wait, this isn't my stories where I have to include a 'truth' section - let me have my freaking moment), and said, "Piss on it, I'm still going to release my work. I've come this far."

And so it went - although much to my joy (and my hubby's) - every so often, I'd find myself showing such obvious responses to passages, it was apparent to even an HSDS girl - and we'd make joy (sometimes several times) to the situation. I wasn't fixed, but at least I had a crutch.

Which leaves me editing my old material, exploring new, and tormenting you with it - where I hope it does you some good, too. If it can't make you happy that way, I hope it'll at least provide you a little laugh the other way - especially since I do provide a 'Truth and Consequences' side to all my stories at the end of each book where I detail the nitty-gritty and harsh reality of every piece. This allows everyone's inner voyeur to be released because my HSDS does a great job of preventing me from grasping 'TMI,' so I tend to spill my guts back there in my books.

As for my bio (side note: doesn't that make it an 'auto-bio?'), I'm a cute, twenty-one year-old (Fib Alert! Oh my Lord! If you're writing fantasy-fiction, at least make it believable!) - crap, okay, fine, I'm old enough to probably be your sister - from a second marriage - so we're not blood related, which means you don't have to get all weirded out about reading sex stuff about me) - and I live in the Pacific Northwest where I am still happily married to my first husband (very funny - he edits my other fibs so I have to tell the truth, but leaves the happily married one)... at least until he reads the final published product where I changed the truth section in every book back to being brutally honest contrary to his corrections.

And, yes, that is me on the cover of all my books, but I'm not spilling the beans here, you have to read the book.