Elise Hepner's Blog, page 27
June 19, 2011
Antique Wonders Make My Muse Melt
I don't know what it is about old stuff, but it gives me a high. I collect antique pens, antique books with signatures from no later than 1910, and now I have a gorgeous, wonderful antique roll top desk in my office with all the marks of being well used.
Heaven.
There's just something about antique writing things that get my writing juices flowing and make me wanna work for four days straight. This desk has gotten me immediately in the mood to write and I plan on stashing my pen collection in it's bountiful cubbyholes. *squee* Here's a picture, though it's not the best because it's from my phone and there was a glare from the window. But I still love it so! That's with the roll top up.
Isn't it pretty? I'm going to make it my editing desk and the laptop is going to go there with no internet connection so I can't be distracted. I will be full of write! Super non-distractiable by Twitter. It will be awesome.
Heaven.
There's just something about antique writing things that get my writing juices flowing and make me wanna work for four days straight. This desk has gotten me immediately in the mood to write and I plan on stashing my pen collection in it's bountiful cubbyholes. *squee* Here's a picture, though it's not the best because it's from my phone and there was a glare from the window. But I still love it so! That's with the roll top up.
Isn't it pretty? I'm going to make it my editing desk and the laptop is going to go there with no internet connection so I can't be distracted. I will be full of write! Super non-distractiable by Twitter. It will be awesome.
June 16, 2011
Goal's Check-up 2
Since we last talked about my crazy obsession with giving myself goals and little check-ups to mark my time as a writer I've since tweaked the list a bit. Mostly because I'm going in a new direction with my publisher and I just like to change my mind. So. here are my revised goals, and here's how I'm doing with them.
Get a full length book publishedWrite/Finish two rough draftsStart Super Secret ProjectFinish first novella in Trilogy (No, not Star Wars)These are also combined with what I finished off of my last Goals list 1 which were:
Submit to 6 Print Erotica AnthologiesGet one novella publishedBecome more confidant in my workHopefully, by the end of this year I'll have a full length subbed to my editor (working on the edits for it now), another two novella's subbed to my editor (One is WIP right now, one is in editing phase), and I'll be mid-way through my super secret project rough draft. So my goals for the rest of the year are:
Submit full length novelTwo novella's edited and subbed to editorBegin writing Super Secret Project for editor Considering how much progress I've all ready made this year, I think I can do it. Not easily, but it's attainable. But, I'm also crazy. I'm also waiting to hear back from various editors about my erotica submissions. Think I've been busy enough? When you add it all up it seems like quite the accomplishment. *grins proudly* And to think, next year, I want to do so much more!
Get a full length book publishedWrite/Finish two rough draftsStart Super Secret ProjectFinish first novella in Trilogy (No, not Star Wars)These are also combined with what I finished off of my last Goals list 1 which were:
Submit to 6 Print Erotica AnthologiesGet one novella publishedBecome more confidant in my workHopefully, by the end of this year I'll have a full length subbed to my editor (working on the edits for it now), another two novella's subbed to my editor (One is WIP right now, one is in editing phase), and I'll be mid-way through my super secret project rough draft. So my goals for the rest of the year are:
Submit full length novelTwo novella's edited and subbed to editorBegin writing Super Secret Project for editor Considering how much progress I've all ready made this year, I think I can do it. Not easily, but it's attainable. But, I'm also crazy. I'm also waiting to hear back from various editors about my erotica submissions. Think I've been busy enough? When you add it all up it seems like quite the accomplishment. *grins proudly* And to think, next year, I want to do so much more!
June 13, 2011
What They Don't Tell Writer's
1) It only just starts when an author gets a contract whether it be e-book or print. The pressure's not off because getting that contract was the easy part. Now author's learn to juggle their expectations with how much work they want to get out there versus how much time they actually have to get it out there.
Example: An author has their first e-book out with a publisher. Odds are that it means now the author is rearranging or revamping a website, writing weekly blog posts, checking in on Twitter to promote the book, and updating Facebook to let people know they're alive.
That doesn't even cover the tip of the promo iceberg--and that's only working on that first book. As you get more titles to promo and work with promotion, edits, blurbs, cover info sheets, etc. Suddenly, what you used to be able to produce in page count before you had a contract isn't going to happen anymore.You're too busy juggling.
And for me, personally, that creates a lot of pressure. Mostly because I'm a perfectionist and something of a workaholic and I tend to want my writing to be like little ducks all in a row. I hold myself up to this high, almost unachievable workload and then get really pissy with myself when it doesn't happen. Mainly because I'm still operating on "pre-published" mentality. Because I'm crazy.
For the love of Christian Bale, don't do that! It mean's right now I'm juggling two sets of edits, a WIP, an outline for the next WIP, and all the promo stuff--plus a submission that's been in with my editor for about a week and a half. Again, I'm insane.
2) Publisher's go under, have a contingency plan for everything that you write. That includes where you'll market a story if your normal publisher doesn't bite and where you'll market it if your pub goes under and you get the rights back to it. Always. Make. Extra. Plans. Can't stress that enough because it's saved my butt more than once and kept me on track.
Example: I think by now we all know what happened with Dorchester. But a majority of authors were able to get out okay with their names intact because they had contingency plans to put their work out there through other means. Whether that was self-pub or re-releasing the manuscript under another publisher, they made it work. Of course, they're still getting screwed...but that's veering off topic.
With so many new e-publishers popping up a good author will have what I like to call a "tier plan". Kinda like when people apply for college and they tell you to pick easy schools, middle schools, and reach schools. Do that, but with pubs. That way if the pub your with doesn't work out for some reason, it doesn't put a single kink in your plan. Because you've all ready done the research for the next pub, and the next pub, etc.
3) You don't have to say yes to EVERYTHING! Part of the writing process is meeting some kick ass people and networking your ass off in the writing community. I mean, come on, we all know I'm addicted to all my author friends on Twitter. But when your helping people out and doing tons of promo for yourself and other people with a click of a button on social networking sites--it's hard to say no to anything. And that's how you get sucked in to doing too many things for too many people that aren't you.
Example: I'm all for liberal use of the retweet button and every now and than I'm a "like" slut--but authors can get completely engrossed in the helping, networking aspect of these sites. Until you look at your blog one day and realize you've had 30 guest posts in a single month because someone--you--agreed to help everyone. Not only is that not good as an author because people want to see you on your blog eventually, but it's really draining, period.
There's a difference between support and procrastinating your own work by piggybacking off of someone else's and I've certainly fallen into the "I can't say no trap." But, like everything else, cliche alert, it's a balancing act. Don't be afraid to say no, especially if you've all ready helped them out two or three times and your on heavy deadline.
Don't add to the stress, roll with it.
See how comfortable Christian is? That's what we wanna strive for people. Also, suits are sexy. Over and out.
Example: An author has their first e-book out with a publisher. Odds are that it means now the author is rearranging or revamping a website, writing weekly blog posts, checking in on Twitter to promote the book, and updating Facebook to let people know they're alive.
That doesn't even cover the tip of the promo iceberg--and that's only working on that first book. As you get more titles to promo and work with promotion, edits, blurbs, cover info sheets, etc. Suddenly, what you used to be able to produce in page count before you had a contract isn't going to happen anymore.You're too busy juggling.
And for me, personally, that creates a lot of pressure. Mostly because I'm a perfectionist and something of a workaholic and I tend to want my writing to be like little ducks all in a row. I hold myself up to this high, almost unachievable workload and then get really pissy with myself when it doesn't happen. Mainly because I'm still operating on "pre-published" mentality. Because I'm crazy.
For the love of Christian Bale, don't do that! It mean's right now I'm juggling two sets of edits, a WIP, an outline for the next WIP, and all the promo stuff--plus a submission that's been in with my editor for about a week and a half. Again, I'm insane.
2) Publisher's go under, have a contingency plan for everything that you write. That includes where you'll market a story if your normal publisher doesn't bite and where you'll market it if your pub goes under and you get the rights back to it. Always. Make. Extra. Plans. Can't stress that enough because it's saved my butt more than once and kept me on track.
Example: I think by now we all know what happened with Dorchester. But a majority of authors were able to get out okay with their names intact because they had contingency plans to put their work out there through other means. Whether that was self-pub or re-releasing the manuscript under another publisher, they made it work. Of course, they're still getting screwed...but that's veering off topic.
With so many new e-publishers popping up a good author will have what I like to call a "tier plan". Kinda like when people apply for college and they tell you to pick easy schools, middle schools, and reach schools. Do that, but with pubs. That way if the pub your with doesn't work out for some reason, it doesn't put a single kink in your plan. Because you've all ready done the research for the next pub, and the next pub, etc.
3) You don't have to say yes to EVERYTHING! Part of the writing process is meeting some kick ass people and networking your ass off in the writing community. I mean, come on, we all know I'm addicted to all my author friends on Twitter. But when your helping people out and doing tons of promo for yourself and other people with a click of a button on social networking sites--it's hard to say no to anything. And that's how you get sucked in to doing too many things for too many people that aren't you.
Example: I'm all for liberal use of the retweet button and every now and than I'm a "like" slut--but authors can get completely engrossed in the helping, networking aspect of these sites. Until you look at your blog one day and realize you've had 30 guest posts in a single month because someone--you--agreed to help everyone. Not only is that not good as an author because people want to see you on your blog eventually, but it's really draining, period.
There's a difference between support and procrastinating your own work by piggybacking off of someone else's and I've certainly fallen into the "I can't say no trap." But, like everything else, cliche alert, it's a balancing act. Don't be afraid to say no, especially if you've all ready helped them out two or three times and your on heavy deadline.
Don't add to the stress, roll with it.
See how comfortable Christian is? That's what we wanna strive for people. Also, suits are sexy. Over and out.
June 1, 2011
Kinky Time with Charlotte Stein
Hello everyone! I am here, doing stuff on Elise's blog because of two things. One: Elise is extremely sexy and I can't keep my hands off her, or her blog. And two:
As you may have guessed, I have a book out.
But let me tell you, this isn't any ordinary book promo. During the course of me hogging Elise's blog, I'm going to:
1) Tap dance
2) Fondle Elise inappropriately
3) Eat my body weight in jelly beans
4) Invite Michael Fassbender to fondle Elise inappropriately
5) Create a wormhole through space and time
Of course, you won't be able to see any of these things going on, because it's a blog and everything is done through the miracle of writing. But I swear to you now, on the life of the television show Game of Thrones, it's happening. And if you squeeze your eyes shut tight enough, I'm pretty sure you'll be able to picture all of the above shenanigans clearly.
Can you see the jellybeans, yet? Or Michael Fassbender's arse?
Thought so. Mainly because picturing Michael Fassbender's arse takes almost no work at all.
But enough of the shenanigans! Onto my book, which is about the zombie apocalypse. And threesomes going on during the zombie apocalypse. Hurrah!
Blurb:
June has spent the last two years of her life trying to avoid death at the hands of murderous psychopaths and ravening zombies. So when Jamie turns up on the scene, careless, still whole and promising her safety on a little paradise island, she isn't quite sure she can trust him. Especially when he tells her that it's just him, and his equally big, burly, handsome friend Blake.
But Jamie and Blake are even better than her wildest dreams—sweet and funny and charming. And worst of all: sexy as hell. Though they're trying to be gentlemanly with her, all she can think about is how much she wants to get tangled up in them, and forget the nightmare the world has become. She's waiting for her reawakening—back to life and happiness and love.
And they seem like just the right sort of men to wake her—body and soul.
Excerpt:
All June could think was—Kelsey is dead, Kelsey is dead, Kelsey is dead—while the image of the ravening hordes feasting on Kelsey's body played behind her eyes. She tried to shut it off, keep it down, keep running before they got to her, but Kelsey's blood was still wet and all over her right arm.
And if Jamie hadn't shot Kelsey—right as she was still screaming, and begging for help—she'd be one of them, now. That's what happened. Once they bit you or bled on you or hell, spat on you, you had maybe thirty seconds.
Before you turned.
She needed to stop, just stop for a second. Lean against something and catch her breath. But Jamie had somehow led them into this building and he just kept running and running—only up instead of out.
June didn't even know if Jamie was really his name, or if he was leading them right into a dead end. But he kept going, none-the-less.
She could hear the hordes, busting through the door below. He'd barred it, but they were coming in anyway, to this place that was an almost total deathtrap. The staircase was narrow and blanketed in darkness, one winding section after the next. Even if she dared to pause and look over the railing, she wouldn't be able to see them until they were almost on her.
"Jamie, wait!" she shouted, but not because things would be easier if he had hold of her hand or was there to comfort her in this dire hour of need. She'd made it this far, on her own.
Or at least, she'd made it this far, with Kelsey.
No, it was just that—if he kept going, eventually they'd be trapped, on the roof. And she couldn't have that. That was one of her and Kelsey's rules—don't run to someplace with only one exit.
Only it was just her rule, now. This guy, this Jamie…he didn't seem to have any rules. He'd decided to run to the roof of a twenty story building then potentially wait outside until the hordes pushed through a probably very flimsy fire door.
Kelsey had said to her. She had said—wait. He's as crazy as they are. A safe island? He's nuts. We can't go with him. He's probably an insane apocalypse rapist.
And she'd been right, God help her. Maybe not about the insane apocalypse rapist part, but even so and besides—there was still time for that. He could be anyone, be into anything. He could have planned this all along…Kelsey's death, the run to the roof…hell, maybe he had a whole party of insane assholes up there, just waiting to do horrible things to her.
Even if that was as nuts as he now seemed. Why would he trap himself on the roof, just to have a little fun with her? Nothing in her head was functioning in quite the way it should. Connections had been lost. Wiring had come loose.
She still called out to him again, when they got to the level before the last one. Her voice came out hoarse and breathless, burning lungs making everything difficult, Kelsey in her mind making everything worse. But somehow the words emerged.
"Jamie, stop. Take the nineteenth floor exit, okay—we can go back down on the other side of the building—answer me, fuck!"
He did, then. She heard him call out over her own shrieking breaths, the pounding of her sneakers on stone, and the sounds of the once-were-people below, slathering and barking like animals.
There were two cracks, like he'd fired her gun into the stairwell. Though she couldn't see where he was shooting or at what. Then—
"Just keep following me, June-bug—come on!"
Only it sounded more like come own, because of the Texan twang Kelsey had sworn up and down was fake. And he'd called her June-bug again, because he was crazy, he was crazy, oh dear Lord he was probably leading them to their deaths.
This was all just some final mad hurrah. He was suicidal, and this was how he wanted to go out. Death by stairs or death by zombies—because they were zombies, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise—or even worse, death by roof.
Was that what he was going to do? Hurl himself off? Plummet to his untimely end? She didn't know. All she could really think about was how close the first ravening cannibal was getting, and how unfit she really was. She'd started believing all the cardio was really beginning to pay off, but as it turned out, eighteen flights of stairs and she was out for the count. Her heart clawed at her ribcage. Her thigh muscles screamed and screamed.
While her zombie pals kept coming and coming, as though the stairs were nothing, really. Why, leaping up eighteen flights was like a morning stroll to them! They could have climbed these stairs forever and still had the wherewithal to eat her innards, once they got their claw-like hands on her.
She hit the fire door to the roof just as one of said claw-like hands brushed the back of her shirt.
It made everything inside her leap, including the heart she'd thought had escaped. Whenever they got really close—that was when you realized just how terrible they were. How awful the world had become. How much it wasn't like a movie at all, but like a constant and unbearable pressure against your sanity, always threatening to make you go over.
She felt like going over, when the door wouldn't close on them. For a second of pushing and heaving with their hands coming through and all over her, her mind tried to fly away. It told her to start screaming uncontrollably, while clawing at herself—that doing so would really be her best bet. No more running constantly. No more pain over Kelsey—and before Kelsey, Joanne and Pat and the old lady whose name she never learned.
Just peace, finally. One moment of agony, then peace.
Only it wouldn't be, would it? No, it wouldn't be. If she stopped pushing at the door and jamming it at them and just God, let the door snap their arms, let it crush them, let it kill them all forever, if she stopped…they'd turn her into one of them. And no matter how much she tried to let it hurt her that Jamie had pointed the gun and shot Kelsey between the eyes, it didn't. It couldn't.
Being one of them was worse. After all, it could have been that they'd caught a disease. It might have been that they were infected with something—like in 28 Days Later, rather than Night of the Living Dead. But part of her wondered whenever she stared into their hollow, ink-black eyes, if they'd simply lost their souls.
He looked like it. The one who'd managed to squeeze his mottled face into the crack she was struggling to close in the door. He had no pupils, no irises, no whites to his eyes. It was all just blackness, empty and weirdly unseeing, as though they operated on no more than a bloodlust now. Like upright land sharks roaming the land, blindly searching out prey.
She wrenched the door from him for just an instant then smashed it back into his face. It was a risky move, but oh so worth it. Worth it for the satisfaction, worth it for Kelsey, worth it for everything these things had taken from everyone. People's souls hadn't left. These things had stolen them.
And when it slithered away and the door quite abruptly shut, the idea didn't go with it. It stayed, and festered—so much so that she wanted to open the door for one mad moment, just to smash it back in their faces again, and again, and again.
She wanted to, but Jamie was calling to her. And other sounds were starting to flood through her now, too, other big, big sounds that she should have noticed ages ago.
At first she thought it was some kind of weapon. That he'd found a chainsaw or a pneumatic drill or a wood chipper. Something he'd known was up here all along for them to use against the enemy.
But then the wind whipped up and she turned to see something far more incredible than a zombie eating wood chipper. It was so incredible that she forgot the zombies battering on the fire door, for a second. They'd bust through it soon enough because although they couldn't figure out handles, the sheer pressure of them would figure out the release bar.
Though it didn't seem to matter. For the first time in these two years of hell, it didn't matter. She found herself laughing out loud, high and probably hysterical.
Jamie had only gone and gotten himself a helicopter. And not only that, but he apparently knew how to fly a helicopter. The rotors were going. They were kicking up the fine gravel that lined the roof of whatever building this was, and he was yelling to her—
"Come on, June-bug, get your ass in here!"
She thought of him talking about the island. About his buddy who was waiting for them. How they'd just wanted to find survivors, and populate their safe haven, and how crazy that had sounded when he first started yakking about it.
Then she ran to him.
Link:
http://www.resplendencepublishing.com/m8/318-201-107-490-1--reawakening-forever-dead-series-book-one-by-charlotte-stein.html
Thanks for having me, Elise! Michael Fassbender enjoyed it immensely.
As you may have guessed, I have a book out.
But let me tell you, this isn't any ordinary book promo. During the course of me hogging Elise's blog, I'm going to:
1) Tap dance
2) Fondle Elise inappropriately
3) Eat my body weight in jelly beans
4) Invite Michael Fassbender to fondle Elise inappropriately
5) Create a wormhole through space and time
Of course, you won't be able to see any of these things going on, because it's a blog and everything is done through the miracle of writing. But I swear to you now, on the life of the television show Game of Thrones, it's happening. And if you squeeze your eyes shut tight enough, I'm pretty sure you'll be able to picture all of the above shenanigans clearly.
Can you see the jellybeans, yet? Or Michael Fassbender's arse?
Thought so. Mainly because picturing Michael Fassbender's arse takes almost no work at all.
But enough of the shenanigans! Onto my book, which is about the zombie apocalypse. And threesomes going on during the zombie apocalypse. Hurrah!
Blurb:
June has spent the last two years of her life trying to avoid death at the hands of murderous psychopaths and ravening zombies. So when Jamie turns up on the scene, careless, still whole and promising her safety on a little paradise island, she isn't quite sure she can trust him. Especially when he tells her that it's just him, and his equally big, burly, handsome friend Blake.
But Jamie and Blake are even better than her wildest dreams—sweet and funny and charming. And worst of all: sexy as hell. Though they're trying to be gentlemanly with her, all she can think about is how much she wants to get tangled up in them, and forget the nightmare the world has become. She's waiting for her reawakening—back to life and happiness and love.
And they seem like just the right sort of men to wake her—body and soul.
Excerpt:
All June could think was—Kelsey is dead, Kelsey is dead, Kelsey is dead—while the image of the ravening hordes feasting on Kelsey's body played behind her eyes. She tried to shut it off, keep it down, keep running before they got to her, but Kelsey's blood was still wet and all over her right arm.
And if Jamie hadn't shot Kelsey—right as she was still screaming, and begging for help—she'd be one of them, now. That's what happened. Once they bit you or bled on you or hell, spat on you, you had maybe thirty seconds.
Before you turned.
She needed to stop, just stop for a second. Lean against something and catch her breath. But Jamie had somehow led them into this building and he just kept running and running—only up instead of out.
June didn't even know if Jamie was really his name, or if he was leading them right into a dead end. But he kept going, none-the-less.
She could hear the hordes, busting through the door below. He'd barred it, but they were coming in anyway, to this place that was an almost total deathtrap. The staircase was narrow and blanketed in darkness, one winding section after the next. Even if she dared to pause and look over the railing, she wouldn't be able to see them until they were almost on her.
"Jamie, wait!" she shouted, but not because things would be easier if he had hold of her hand or was there to comfort her in this dire hour of need. She'd made it this far, on her own.
Or at least, she'd made it this far, with Kelsey.
No, it was just that—if he kept going, eventually they'd be trapped, on the roof. And she couldn't have that. That was one of her and Kelsey's rules—don't run to someplace with only one exit.
Only it was just her rule, now. This guy, this Jamie…he didn't seem to have any rules. He'd decided to run to the roof of a twenty story building then potentially wait outside until the hordes pushed through a probably very flimsy fire door.
Kelsey had said to her. She had said—wait. He's as crazy as they are. A safe island? He's nuts. We can't go with him. He's probably an insane apocalypse rapist.
And she'd been right, God help her. Maybe not about the insane apocalypse rapist part, but even so and besides—there was still time for that. He could be anyone, be into anything. He could have planned this all along…Kelsey's death, the run to the roof…hell, maybe he had a whole party of insane assholes up there, just waiting to do horrible things to her.
Even if that was as nuts as he now seemed. Why would he trap himself on the roof, just to have a little fun with her? Nothing in her head was functioning in quite the way it should. Connections had been lost. Wiring had come loose.
She still called out to him again, when they got to the level before the last one. Her voice came out hoarse and breathless, burning lungs making everything difficult, Kelsey in her mind making everything worse. But somehow the words emerged.
"Jamie, stop. Take the nineteenth floor exit, okay—we can go back down on the other side of the building—answer me, fuck!"
He did, then. She heard him call out over her own shrieking breaths, the pounding of her sneakers on stone, and the sounds of the once-were-people below, slathering and barking like animals.
There were two cracks, like he'd fired her gun into the stairwell. Though she couldn't see where he was shooting or at what. Then—
"Just keep following me, June-bug—come on!"
Only it sounded more like come own, because of the Texan twang Kelsey had sworn up and down was fake. And he'd called her June-bug again, because he was crazy, he was crazy, oh dear Lord he was probably leading them to their deaths.
This was all just some final mad hurrah. He was suicidal, and this was how he wanted to go out. Death by stairs or death by zombies—because they were zombies, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise—or even worse, death by roof.
Was that what he was going to do? Hurl himself off? Plummet to his untimely end? She didn't know. All she could really think about was how close the first ravening cannibal was getting, and how unfit she really was. She'd started believing all the cardio was really beginning to pay off, but as it turned out, eighteen flights of stairs and she was out for the count. Her heart clawed at her ribcage. Her thigh muscles screamed and screamed.
While her zombie pals kept coming and coming, as though the stairs were nothing, really. Why, leaping up eighteen flights was like a morning stroll to them! They could have climbed these stairs forever and still had the wherewithal to eat her innards, once they got their claw-like hands on her.
She hit the fire door to the roof just as one of said claw-like hands brushed the back of her shirt.
It made everything inside her leap, including the heart she'd thought had escaped. Whenever they got really close—that was when you realized just how terrible they were. How awful the world had become. How much it wasn't like a movie at all, but like a constant and unbearable pressure against your sanity, always threatening to make you go over.
She felt like going over, when the door wouldn't close on them. For a second of pushing and heaving with their hands coming through and all over her, her mind tried to fly away. It told her to start screaming uncontrollably, while clawing at herself—that doing so would really be her best bet. No more running constantly. No more pain over Kelsey—and before Kelsey, Joanne and Pat and the old lady whose name she never learned.
Just peace, finally. One moment of agony, then peace.
Only it wouldn't be, would it? No, it wouldn't be. If she stopped pushing at the door and jamming it at them and just God, let the door snap their arms, let it crush them, let it kill them all forever, if she stopped…they'd turn her into one of them. And no matter how much she tried to let it hurt her that Jamie had pointed the gun and shot Kelsey between the eyes, it didn't. It couldn't.
Being one of them was worse. After all, it could have been that they'd caught a disease. It might have been that they were infected with something—like in 28 Days Later, rather than Night of the Living Dead. But part of her wondered whenever she stared into their hollow, ink-black eyes, if they'd simply lost their souls.
He looked like it. The one who'd managed to squeeze his mottled face into the crack she was struggling to close in the door. He had no pupils, no irises, no whites to his eyes. It was all just blackness, empty and weirdly unseeing, as though they operated on no more than a bloodlust now. Like upright land sharks roaming the land, blindly searching out prey.
She wrenched the door from him for just an instant then smashed it back into his face. It was a risky move, but oh so worth it. Worth it for the satisfaction, worth it for Kelsey, worth it for everything these things had taken from everyone. People's souls hadn't left. These things had stolen them.
And when it slithered away and the door quite abruptly shut, the idea didn't go with it. It stayed, and festered—so much so that she wanted to open the door for one mad moment, just to smash it back in their faces again, and again, and again.
She wanted to, but Jamie was calling to her. And other sounds were starting to flood through her now, too, other big, big sounds that she should have noticed ages ago.
At first she thought it was some kind of weapon. That he'd found a chainsaw or a pneumatic drill or a wood chipper. Something he'd known was up here all along for them to use against the enemy.
But then the wind whipped up and she turned to see something far more incredible than a zombie eating wood chipper. It was so incredible that she forgot the zombies battering on the fire door, for a second. They'd bust through it soon enough because although they couldn't figure out handles, the sheer pressure of them would figure out the release bar.
Though it didn't seem to matter. For the first time in these two years of hell, it didn't matter. She found herself laughing out loud, high and probably hysterical.
Jamie had only gone and gotten himself a helicopter. And not only that, but he apparently knew how to fly a helicopter. The rotors were going. They were kicking up the fine gravel that lined the roof of whatever building this was, and he was yelling to her—
"Come on, June-bug, get your ass in here!"
She thought of him talking about the island. About his buddy who was waiting for them. How they'd just wanted to find survivors, and populate their safe haven, and how crazy that had sounded when he first started yakking about it.
Then she ran to him.
Link:
http://www.resplendencepublishing.com/m8/318-201-107-490-1--reawakening-forever-dead-series-book-one-by-charlotte-stein.html
Thanks for having me, Elise! Michael Fassbender enjoyed it immensely.
May 31, 2011
NYC Sex Museum For The Win
I was lucky enough to go to NYC over Memorial Weekend with my bestest bestie and I got a chance to step into the hallowed, amazing, stupendous halls of The Museum of Sex! Let me tell you, if you haven't gone, you must. I plan to return whenever I'm in NYC because they have revolving exhibits and there's so much to see and do and learn. It's a mecca of informative, naughty goodness. Here's what I came home with from the awesometastic gift shop:
[image error]
I also picked up a black "Museum of Sex" mug for my morning tea!
[image error]
I also picked up a black "Museum of Sex" mug for my morning tea!
May 24, 2011
Resistance is Futile
No matter what I do, no matter how big my backlog is on my TBR (To Be Read) pile is--I can't help it, I'll buy more books. It's a literary disease! One that makes my skin itch every time I see a new literary world I haven't explored yet that's out on the shelf ready for my enjoyment. And then, of course, my long time favorite authors happen to release all their books around the same time and I'm once again completely and utterly helpless.
It's a physical rush knowing that soon I'll have three of my favorite author's books in my hands so I can savor every word!
I went on vacation recently. Guess where I stopped? Two discount bookstores. I came home with thirteen books, three Disney mugs, a Tangled towel, and none of the clothes I was supposed to buy for a new wardrobe at the outlets. How does that work? It's the magic of the books.
Among some of the fun books I picked up are: a biography on Emily Post, Miss Manners Extraordinaire, A memoir of Julie Andrews, A few chick-lit reads, and a romance fiction book about Casanova's love letters found by a young museum curator and how their two loves are parallel and connect through time and space.
Variety is the spice of life and when it comes to books--resistance is futile. It will only hurt more when you try to be good. Be bad, your brain will thank you later.
It's a physical rush knowing that soon I'll have three of my favorite author's books in my hands so I can savor every word!
I went on vacation recently. Guess where I stopped? Two discount bookstores. I came home with thirteen books, three Disney mugs, a Tangled towel, and none of the clothes I was supposed to buy for a new wardrobe at the outlets. How does that work? It's the magic of the books.
Among some of the fun books I picked up are: a biography on Emily Post, Miss Manners Extraordinaire, A memoir of Julie Andrews, A few chick-lit reads, and a romance fiction book about Casanova's love letters found by a young museum curator and how their two loves are parallel and connect through time and space.
Variety is the spice of life and when it comes to books--resistance is futile. It will only hurt more when you try to be good. Be bad, your brain will thank you later.
May 15, 2011
It's Official, My Website is Live and Kicking
So after Blogger's epicness of going down FOREVER, I didn't get a chance to share with anyone my new, gorgeous website www.ehwriting.com made by my loving husband. Isn't it pretty? I really love everything about it and it's perfect timing for my new release
Party Games
from Ellora's Cave. What do you guys think?
I'm on vacation until Wednesday so posts may be a little non-existent as well as my tweets. But I'm thinking about you lovely readers!
I'm on vacation until Wednesday so posts may be a little non-existent as well as my tweets. But I'm thinking about you lovely readers!
May 10, 2011
New Release: Party Games from Ellora's Cave
Hey ladies and gents, I know I've been a little silent around here but I've got some epically good news! My new release from Ellora's Cave comes out today! Yay!!! Meet,
Party Games
:
BlurbWilliam's boring lovemaking leaves Catherine unsatisfied. Harboring fantasies she can't put into words, she longs for a sexual voice but finds herself too stifled by her proper social upbringing.
When a blackout hits their resort hotel and William proposes a sexy version of hide-and-seek, playtime takes on a whole new salacious meaning. Charlotte's mind races with sexual scenarios. But even her fantasies fail to compare to the titillating adventure her husband has planned for her—with the help of another man.
Soon everything she knows about lust will be irreversibly changed—and she'll moan for more.
Reader Advisory: Contains scorching-hot M/M/F sexual scenarios, a woman giving orders on an erotic high and slight trickery.
Excerpt Her fingers trembled—should she risk giving into fear and walk out of the closet or wait for William? Without a doubt he'd planned this as a sexual hunt. A naughty bedroom game. But huddled among heirloom furs in her thin silk slip, she was already prey.
"I've got you."
She couldn't mistake that wicked laugh. It was him. David, who had been a friend at galas she'd attended, but whose body she couldn't help tracing with her gaze as he had made his way around the room. He was magnetic—and something she shouldn't want. Which made her desire flare to life every time he had kissed her hand in formal greeting. Through her glove, his lips had been a seal of heat that had built underneath her flesh.
Until a sexual beast she hadn't known she held inside roared to get out. Had it been fate that he had found her here? Or perhaps something more devious. Either way she couldn't push back the relief that flooded her limbs at the sound of his voice.
At last, a voice she knew. One of the doors to her left unlatched and creaked, jerking back to reveal a lean, masculine figure against the weather's cruel backdrop. One of his large hands groped her breast and tweaked the tender nipple. She muffled a groan between her clenched teeth. Goodness, this was wrong—but he moved in beside her and closed the door.
His fingers crept over her body against the slide of silk. He was gentle, but underneath her skin there was an elated tingle where he touched her, his caress stripping her mind of all logical thought. She wanted him everywhere at once. His heavy palms pressed and curved against her like he would memorize her form in the dark. He found her every reactive spot.
Against his eagerness she rose to the occasion. Their breaths came out in loud, tortured rasps. The roar of rolling thunder silenced their noises as the darkness shrouded them from reality. When his hand grasped her hip and he drew her in tight against his body, his cock against her stomach was a heated, pulsing barrier between them.
"I've always wanted you, from that insipid garden party until this moment." "Why?" "You're my ultimate conquest. My sweet as sin fantasy. I want to please you as only an illicit lover can please his lady." He whispered against her cheek so she could only focus on the low rumble of his voice. "You need me." She wouldn't deny it. "Then take me." She sought out his lips. The thrill of possible sin with another man made her flesh burn from his touch.
William must have his fair share of dalliances outside their marriage bed. What would be the harm in her having just this one? Her husband worked nights often. She knew what the sewing circles whispered. William had never made any motion to make her doubt the gossip. If anything, his actions only enforced the rumors because he would come home at night with different women's perfumes on his skin and wrinkles in his untucked shirts.
Briefly, the thought of her husband in an affair stung until she buried it away. They didn't know each other well enough, like other married couples, for her to waste so much time on her emotions. Their courtship had never been a match of love, but their marriage was one of business between families.
So it didn't make sense to waste pain on the hypothetical. It wasn't as if she could change things. Where would hurt get her in the end? She wouldn't be any better for it, so it was best for her to lock it away. But surely William didn't care enough for her for this to hurt him? He'd never done much but scold, reprimand or mount her―that is, when they saw each other at all. William couldn't deny her curiosity. Not when David might bring her to life again. She couldn't resist when the timing was so right.
If anything, William should be pleased that she might finally have fun in the bedroom—or a closet. Maybe this would teach her to bring her own desires to her husband. Wouldn't that be ironic?
It was no secret that it took two to make a marriage. In or out of the bedroom. Though she and her husband had intercourse—because that was the only clinical thing to call it—often enough Charlotte rarely knew the whimsical pull of truly earth-shattering sex. Yes, she couldn't begin to know how to ask for what she wanted—but William would probably laugh and then deny her everything.
David, on the other hand—he wouldn't give her a choice in the matter. A hard, hot flush crept up her cheeks. There would be no going back now. She straightened her shoulders and came to her decision. David held her back for a moment with his strong hands on her shoulders. Was he rethinking this? Caught between a frown and anger tightening her chest, she let it all go when he drew close again. Each inch was a mile. His tongue traced her lips in a sensory sweep that left her weak-kneed and dizzy.
As an excuse for something to do with her hands, she groped until she could begin to unbutton his dress shirt. When his mouth crushed hers, she took pleasure in exploring his hot, muscled upper body. God, it was much naughtier without lights.
When had been the last time she used the word naughty in her vocabulary? Not since school. And then it wasn't for anything as serious as breaking a commandment or committing a sin. But if she was going to hell for the way David possessed her—body and soul—it was all worth it.
Now her hands trembled for an entirely different reason. Undeterred by his fingers inching up her slip, she raised her arms and her final protection slithered to the floor. In preparation for her husband, she'd removed all other garments that would get in his way before she got into the closet. William never liked to take his time. But now she leaned into David's touch and tightened her grip on his body.
Determined to go slow with her exploration of his flesh—even knowing time wasn't a luxury they had because of the game winding throughout the old resort hotel—she cupped the sides of his face in her palms. Under her hands his jaw hardened, a brief protest that died on his lips. He turned until his soft mouth delicately kissed her palm, sending a fluttery jolt of desire to her abdomen. Beneath his fingers she flushed from the attention as he traced her curves in tingling, barely there circles. Her fingers caressed his high cheekbones as she relied on her heightened sense of touch.
When his face tightened in a smile, she found the irresistible dimples that showed up whenever he complimented her at parties. Her fingers traced up and over his forehead, normally creased with concentration, and through his short, mussed curls. She didn't need light to know and appreciate the raven color and feathery texture under her hands. A crash of thunder outside the room's windowpanes made her startle and his wicked, honey brown irises lit up. From the crack in the closed doors there was just enough illumination to catch a glimpse of his cupid-bow lips parted in pleasure. His hungry gaze locked on her nude body.
"I like when you look at me like that." "Like what?" He coaxed her onward. "When I glimpse my attraction and what I've wanted to do to you all those long months dancing in your eyes. I'm glad we understand each other." She sealed her words with a scorching kiss of tongue and teeth. But it was with reluctance that she pulled back from his eager hands. "But we can only do this once. This is my time to be selfish, but I can't take the prolonged guilt that these engagements take out of a person." "I think you've read too many romance novels." "Please. I'm serious, David." "All right," He let out a small exhalation before returning to his deft work over of her body. "I'll make it good then, my very best for the lady." Satisfied, she sank gratefully into his touch.
Buy HERE
BlurbWilliam's boring lovemaking leaves Catherine unsatisfied. Harboring fantasies she can't put into words, she longs for a sexual voice but finds herself too stifled by her proper social upbringing. When a blackout hits their resort hotel and William proposes a sexy version of hide-and-seek, playtime takes on a whole new salacious meaning. Charlotte's mind races with sexual scenarios. But even her fantasies fail to compare to the titillating adventure her husband has planned for her—with the help of another man.
Soon everything she knows about lust will be irreversibly changed—and she'll moan for more.
Reader Advisory: Contains scorching-hot M/M/F sexual scenarios, a woman giving orders on an erotic high and slight trickery.
Excerpt Her fingers trembled—should she risk giving into fear and walk out of the closet or wait for William? Without a doubt he'd planned this as a sexual hunt. A naughty bedroom game. But huddled among heirloom furs in her thin silk slip, she was already prey.
"I've got you."
She couldn't mistake that wicked laugh. It was him. David, who had been a friend at galas she'd attended, but whose body she couldn't help tracing with her gaze as he had made his way around the room. He was magnetic—and something she shouldn't want. Which made her desire flare to life every time he had kissed her hand in formal greeting. Through her glove, his lips had been a seal of heat that had built underneath her flesh.
Until a sexual beast she hadn't known she held inside roared to get out. Had it been fate that he had found her here? Or perhaps something more devious. Either way she couldn't push back the relief that flooded her limbs at the sound of his voice.
At last, a voice she knew. One of the doors to her left unlatched and creaked, jerking back to reveal a lean, masculine figure against the weather's cruel backdrop. One of his large hands groped her breast and tweaked the tender nipple. She muffled a groan between her clenched teeth. Goodness, this was wrong—but he moved in beside her and closed the door.
His fingers crept over her body against the slide of silk. He was gentle, but underneath her skin there was an elated tingle where he touched her, his caress stripping her mind of all logical thought. She wanted him everywhere at once. His heavy palms pressed and curved against her like he would memorize her form in the dark. He found her every reactive spot.
Against his eagerness she rose to the occasion. Their breaths came out in loud, tortured rasps. The roar of rolling thunder silenced their noises as the darkness shrouded them from reality. When his hand grasped her hip and he drew her in tight against his body, his cock against her stomach was a heated, pulsing barrier between them.
"I've always wanted you, from that insipid garden party until this moment." "Why?" "You're my ultimate conquest. My sweet as sin fantasy. I want to please you as only an illicit lover can please his lady." He whispered against her cheek so she could only focus on the low rumble of his voice. "You need me." She wouldn't deny it. "Then take me." She sought out his lips. The thrill of possible sin with another man made her flesh burn from his touch.
William must have his fair share of dalliances outside their marriage bed. What would be the harm in her having just this one? Her husband worked nights often. She knew what the sewing circles whispered. William had never made any motion to make her doubt the gossip. If anything, his actions only enforced the rumors because he would come home at night with different women's perfumes on his skin and wrinkles in his untucked shirts.
Briefly, the thought of her husband in an affair stung until she buried it away. They didn't know each other well enough, like other married couples, for her to waste so much time on her emotions. Their courtship had never been a match of love, but their marriage was one of business between families.
So it didn't make sense to waste pain on the hypothetical. It wasn't as if she could change things. Where would hurt get her in the end? She wouldn't be any better for it, so it was best for her to lock it away. But surely William didn't care enough for her for this to hurt him? He'd never done much but scold, reprimand or mount her―that is, when they saw each other at all. William couldn't deny her curiosity. Not when David might bring her to life again. She couldn't resist when the timing was so right.
If anything, William should be pleased that she might finally have fun in the bedroom—or a closet. Maybe this would teach her to bring her own desires to her husband. Wouldn't that be ironic?
It was no secret that it took two to make a marriage. In or out of the bedroom. Though she and her husband had intercourse—because that was the only clinical thing to call it—often enough Charlotte rarely knew the whimsical pull of truly earth-shattering sex. Yes, she couldn't begin to know how to ask for what she wanted—but William would probably laugh and then deny her everything.
David, on the other hand—he wouldn't give her a choice in the matter. A hard, hot flush crept up her cheeks. There would be no going back now. She straightened her shoulders and came to her decision. David held her back for a moment with his strong hands on her shoulders. Was he rethinking this? Caught between a frown and anger tightening her chest, she let it all go when he drew close again. Each inch was a mile. His tongue traced her lips in a sensory sweep that left her weak-kneed and dizzy.
As an excuse for something to do with her hands, she groped until she could begin to unbutton his dress shirt. When his mouth crushed hers, she took pleasure in exploring his hot, muscled upper body. God, it was much naughtier without lights.
When had been the last time she used the word naughty in her vocabulary? Not since school. And then it wasn't for anything as serious as breaking a commandment or committing a sin. But if she was going to hell for the way David possessed her—body and soul—it was all worth it.
Now her hands trembled for an entirely different reason. Undeterred by his fingers inching up her slip, she raised her arms and her final protection slithered to the floor. In preparation for her husband, she'd removed all other garments that would get in his way before she got into the closet. William never liked to take his time. But now she leaned into David's touch and tightened her grip on his body.
Determined to go slow with her exploration of his flesh—even knowing time wasn't a luxury they had because of the game winding throughout the old resort hotel—she cupped the sides of his face in her palms. Under her hands his jaw hardened, a brief protest that died on his lips. He turned until his soft mouth delicately kissed her palm, sending a fluttery jolt of desire to her abdomen. Beneath his fingers she flushed from the attention as he traced her curves in tingling, barely there circles. Her fingers caressed his high cheekbones as she relied on her heightened sense of touch.
When his face tightened in a smile, she found the irresistible dimples that showed up whenever he complimented her at parties. Her fingers traced up and over his forehead, normally creased with concentration, and through his short, mussed curls. She didn't need light to know and appreciate the raven color and feathery texture under her hands. A crash of thunder outside the room's windowpanes made her startle and his wicked, honey brown irises lit up. From the crack in the closed doors there was just enough illumination to catch a glimpse of his cupid-bow lips parted in pleasure. His hungry gaze locked on her nude body.
"I like when you look at me like that." "Like what?" He coaxed her onward. "When I glimpse my attraction and what I've wanted to do to you all those long months dancing in your eyes. I'm glad we understand each other." She sealed her words with a scorching kiss of tongue and teeth. But it was with reluctance that she pulled back from his eager hands. "But we can only do this once. This is my time to be selfish, but I can't take the prolonged guilt that these engagements take out of a person." "I think you've read too many romance novels." "Please. I'm serious, David." "All right," He let out a small exhalation before returning to his deft work over of her body. "I'll make it good then, my very best for the lady." Satisfied, she sank gratefully into his touch.
Buy HERE
April 3, 2011
Spicy, Sexy, Sizzle
So, with all these edits I'm hiding under lately, I've been kind of boring. Lets spice things up with some links to my favorite erotica writers and erotica/publishing research links.
Sommer Marsden
Alison Tyler
Violet Blue
Shana Germain
Jeremy Edwards
Oh Get a Grip (An introspective, honest look at erotica from the authors)
Pier's Anthony's Guide to E-book Publishers
Smart Bitches, Trashy Books (A site that will cheer anyone up on there worst day)
Pimp My Novel (Great promotion advice as well as a round-up of all the publishing news every week showcased on Friday)
Query Shark (Though these queries aren't normally erotic, the crits can teach you alot and make you laugh hysterically for days)
That's it for my list--for now. These are my daily doses of sanity that I read while drinking my morning--or afternoon--tea. Have fun! Hopefully, I'll be back soon with something a little more substantial like a share of my latest or, mayhaps, a release date? Keep your fingers crossed!
Sommer Marsden
Alison Tyler
Violet Blue
Shana Germain
Jeremy Edwards
Oh Get a Grip (An introspective, honest look at erotica from the authors)
Pier's Anthony's Guide to E-book Publishers
Smart Bitches, Trashy Books (A site that will cheer anyone up on there worst day)
Pimp My Novel (Great promotion advice as well as a round-up of all the publishing news every week showcased on Friday)
Query Shark (Though these queries aren't normally erotic, the crits can teach you alot and make you laugh hysterically for days)
That's it for my list--for now. These are my daily doses of sanity that I read while drinking my morning--or afternoon--tea. Have fun! Hopefully, I'll be back soon with something a little more substantial like a share of my latest or, mayhaps, a release date? Keep your fingers crossed!
March 19, 2011
New Release: Kissed From Beyond A Paranormal Erotic Anthology
My new release, a paranormal erotic novella, One Rub More, is showcased in KFB along with Amber Scott, Keta Diablo, and Stacey Kennedy. I had a lot of fun with this anthology. The character's really spoke to me and it's my first true erotic romance. I hope you'll enjoy reading it. Here's the blurb:This 'must read' anthology will take you to the mystical beyond and back with four erotica novellas from bestselling and award winning authors:
-Keta Diablo
-Amber Scott
-Elise Hepner
-Stacey Kennedy
Can you handle the magic?
"Cradle of Dreams" by Keta Diablo
With visions of battle still fresh in his mind, Roane Bradfield returns home to find the woman he loves betrothed to another. He corners Kendrick Moreland at Dowager Huggins' Grand Ball and whisks her into the secluded library. One way or the other, he will know the reason the duplicitous beauty cut him from her life when she promised to wait forever.
Kendrick can't believe her eyes when Roane suddenly appears at the ball. Has he truly risen from the dead? Amid wagging tongues and hushed murmurs, the fantasy of her every dream whisks her from the ballroom. And the expression on his face is anything but loving. Revenge, danger and powerful love collide in the Cradle of Dreams.
"A Love Soul Deep" by Amber Scott
If only Sara had known no man would ever make her feel like Crew did, she would have let him love her. A regret that can never be undone. His death haunts her dreams and her wishful thinking only reminds her of everything she has lost.
Years later, a visit to an antique store in sultry Savannah changes everything and makes her deepest wish come true. Her beloved returns to her. Her every fantasy gets the chance to be fulfilled. But she wants more than one night. She wants a lifetime and wonders what magic will let her keep A Love Soul Deep.
"One Rub More" by Elise Hepner
Flynn has been cursed for over a century for a social slight he never committed. A voo-doo priestess hexed him and forced him into a teapot where he could only be summoned by the rub of a woman's palm. Once free, he grants these women three sexual favors-and cuts off his own emotions in the process. Unable to break free from an invisible cage of lust and sex to fall in love again, he's resigned to being a sex object and nothing more.
Helena has been house sitting far, far away from her complicated past in England- including her former childhood sweetheart, who wasn't satisfied when Helena didn't want to be barefoot and pregnant. But she's resigned to leave behind the complications of men and sex. She hopes that logic will win out over her unreliable emotions-but she's put to the test when she accidently summons Flynn from his teapot prison.
Little do they know, they'll both get what they wished for, even if it's not exactly what they envisioned.
"'Til We Meet Again" by Stacey Kennedy
Ethan Thomas has spent years alone,forever trapped between worlds. Once a soldier in the Civil War, he's now a ghost bound to a chaise lounge that once belonged to him. He's spent centuries lingering in Savannah, Georgia, waiting to be saved...
Cassandra Cole is an interior designer who has been hired to restore an old Victorian home. But as she begins to furnish the home strange happenings begin to erupt around her. She suspects the house is haunted. Determined to find out, Cassie will set out to discover who this ghost is, why she feels a connection to him, and what she has to do to free him will surprise her in ways she couldn't have imagined.
Buy Links:
Amazon Kindle
Smashwords
1PlaceforRomance
Coming Soon to Nook
![[image error]](http://www.mosexstore.com/prodimg/100047.jpg){kind=link}