Friday, July 25, 2008
Hope to see you there!
Exceptional Erotic Fiction
Monday, July 21, 2008
Nice right? I thought so. So you want one? Well its easy! Just email me at email@example.com and put "gifts bookmark" in the subject with your addy and I'll send you this and some other Duvall Inc. goodies.
And you can buy the book in print from Phaze HERE.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
At http://bittenbybooks.com/?p=499 Bitten By Books did a review of Crimson Promise.
A portion of what the review said: This is another short (18 pages) but again Phelan proves she can capture a character and bring them to life.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
The Leather Bride
Taming Marie Antoinette
The Gilded Cage
The Leather Bride, Taming Marie Antoinette and The Gilded Cage are available separately or together as Hot Couture from Phaze, Amazon, Barnes & Noble or your local bookstore.
WARNING! Red hot romances ahead!
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
To enter, just drop an email at kspatwriter (at) yahoo (dot) com with the subject JULY DRAWING, or if you have a Blogger profile you can leave a comment on this post. Deadline to enter is July 20 and winner will be drawn on the 21st. 18 and older, please. Good luck!
Monday, July 07, 2008
A Change of Pace is now available.
I really like this title since it is a bit shorter than what I have been writing lately, so it goes back a little bit to my erotic short story beginnings, while still delivering a hot little story. Plus at the price of $2.00 I am hoping that readers who have been interested in my books, but maybe not wanting to do a major investment, will give me a try.
Enough about me though ... how about something about the book. LOL
Nicole is frustrated with the emptiness of her life and when a chance meeting with Alan, an object of her affection from the past, ends with an invitation to his house for dinner, and whatever may come, she decides to take a chance and live a little.
There's an excerpt available on my website. www.michellehouston.com
* ~ *
Plus, my July newsletter is out! It's in the files section of my newsgroup (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/michellehouston/) and on my website.
And I have updated the look of my blog (http://eroticpen.blogspot.com) and website, and welcome comments, critiques and suggestions.
Exceptional Erotic Fiction
WARNING! Red hot romances ahead!
Sunday, July 06, 2008
And while you're here, how about an excerpt?
A cryptic phone call to Cameron "Zed" Zedmore's cell reveals a plot to steal away Zed's live-in love, Nick. Devestating the thought of infidelity is, Zed realizes he can't blame Nick for being tempted to stray, as Zed's work has kept him in the lab, and out of their bed, for long hours.
Nick loves Zed, but isn't crazy about being a "house husband" anymore. He has needs Zed won't meet, and when another friend offers help in that department, Nick is tempted to accept. But then Zed comes home early...
Just in time.
Across the living room, through the feathery, fake plant strands in the vase on the back couch table, he could see two heads poking up from the patio loveseat. They bobbed and rolled in the unmistakable synchronous rhythm of an intimate act. Zed detected no other activity beyond that—he couldn't tell if Nick had a hand pressed to Danny's alleged bulge—or vice versa. Were that the case, it would end now.
A pang seized his heart, and he swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat. To see the actual infidelity, or at least the beginnings of it, bothered him more than expected. He didn't think he could stomach the scene had he arrived ten minutes later, assuming progression to something more hardcore would take that long. His first instinct to charge forward, like the lover scorned, faded quickly. His indifference toward the relationship caused this—Zed knew he had no right to be completely angry. He brought this on himself, and it was up to him to make amends.
He backtracked silently to the open front door then guided it forcefully to a foundation-shimmering slam. "Nick?" he called out in question, trying not to sound too eager, "You around?"
He knew, of course, where to look and what to find. Those resting heads, once joined at the lips, had now positioned themselves on opposite ends of the couch. Sotto voce, curses filled the closing gap between him and the patio along with the sound of a foot scraping the concrete—no doubt, a last minute attempt to hide any visual evidence of the pungent smoke filling Zed's nostrils.
At least, it seemed, it was good stuff.
A large, opened bag of tortilla chips rested on Danny's lap. Zed wanted to snicker, thinking of the surprise crinkling the bottom of the bag, inward. Nick crossed his legs tightly and blinked several times, but Zed could tell his lover was clearly riding the high that encouraged his earlier, and potential, behavior.
"Hey, you," Nick's voice cracked with worry. "I didn't expect you back so soon."
"I had a sudden change of heart," Zed said pleasantly. He chose to ignore the lip of the bong, peeking from the ruffled dust skirt of the ottoman, and moved around so he could face the two men. They resembled guilty teenagers with their heads bowed, caught red-handed, red-eyed, and purple-cocked. "Nice day to be sitting outside," he observed, gazing toward the spacious backyard.
"Yeah, I figured you'd be on the course all afternoon," Nick mumbled. "I called you at work when your cell was busy."
"I did too, but on the way there, I decided there are better things I could do with my time." He looked at Danny, narrowing his gaze. "Unfortunately… Danny, is it?" He should have taken more care to know the men Nick chose for friends.
Danny looked away in silent escape, as though affirming his identity might secure some kind of punishment. Finally, a short nod bowed his head.
"Danny, I had hoped to spend some quality time with Nick, alone. I don't mean to be rude."
"Not at all." Danny's response came swiftly, matching his sprightly leap from the love seat. Brushing off tortilla crumbs, he smiled at Nick and made a phone gesture to his ear with his left hand. "See ya."
Yeah, we'll be changing our phone numbers later tonight. Zed only smiled and waved. "Later," he said, a bit too placating. He waited for the front door to slam before turning his gaze on Nick, who cowered and hugged himself for protection. "Why are you sitting like that?"
"Are you going to hit me?" He sounded small and frightened. Had to be the weed enhancing his lover's paranoia, Zed decided. He had never raised a hand to anybody, especially Nick. The mere suggestion made Zed feel guiltier for his recent neglect.
He knelt before Nick and placed a hand on his bouncing knee. "Why would you even think such a thing?" he gently chided. "Have I ever done anything to suggest I could become violent with you?"
"No," Nick said, looking somewhat remorseful for having asked the question. Zed could sense, though, the next words forming on the man's lips. At least if you hit me, you'd be touching me. Wrapping himself in his own concerns at work really had put the burden of loneliness on Nick if negative attention was preferred over none at all.
Zed smoothed the palm of his hand down Nick's bare calf, then back up his thigh, to the cuff of his shorts. His touch left a visible trail of raised flesh and Zed watched the skin quiver. Farther back, the bulge tenting Nick's shorts increased. A few minutes later, that delicious cock might have been in another man's mouth.
Just in time. He'd come home to stop to Nick from making a mistake and to rectify his own.
"I love you, Nick, from the day we met. I'm sorry for shutting you out like I have these last few months."
Nick straightened a bit, his features softening.
Zed squeezed his eyes shut, mentally forcing back his next words. He wouldn't blame any of this on Nick. He wasn't going to ask Nick why he hadn't made his feelings known. Lost in his fog, he wouldn't have noticed any signals from his lover. Most assuredly, Nick had said or done something, but he just didn't acknowledge it.
He would enjoy making up for lost time and see that Nick did the same.
"Let me see that gorgeous body of yours," Zed whispered.
Nick looked unsure of himself at first, as though surprised to hear such a proposition. Zed bit back a laugh when Nick apparently recovered from his shyness and let his shirt slip over his head, flying to one side. The rhythmic rise and fall of Nick's bare chest—tanned and smooth—hypnotized Zed, and his mouth watered at the prospect of taking one of those taut, pebbled nipples between his lips.
"That's all?" he teased. Nick retaliated by easing slowly to his feet and undoing the button and fly of his cutoffs. Off came Nick's underwear then, and Zed was pleased to spy a patch of dark hair concealing Nick's reddening shaft.
Hope you'll pick it up today.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Wry lift at the corner of his mouth, eyes gaze into mine with a questioning twinkle, a tease. The lines across his forehead deepen as he narrows those eyes in flirtation. Does he really have the ability to melt me with just the suggestion of a smile?
Hands ruffling already tussled mane, his biceps flex, polo shirt rising to expose slim abs, a path of hair dipping into trouser line.
The arc of his brow frames a dash of mystery, blue eyes that hold secrets and promise. The straight arrow of his nose points to angular chin dusted with soft beard. At his temples a hint of salt in the thick wave of dark hair, unruly wisps playing at his crown. Tendons of wrists divulge tension unseen in his expression. Could he be as nervous to meet as I?
The sapphire blue shirt is reflected in his irises telegraphing open authenticity in but a single glance. As the apples of his cheeks rise, he smiles with such genuine warmth my heart fills in a flush of sensuality. Suddenly appearing the little boy, he squints mock self-consciousness, extends a large hand and speaks in soft burr.
“My name’s Erik. Nice to meet you.”
In July of 2005 a woman wrote a note of appreciation and love to the actor in a movie musical never expecting to receive a reply. We’re here today interviewing Scot film sensation; Erik Bartholomew about his unlikely dealings with fans…one in particular.
Ms. London: Thanks for stopping by our studio today.
Erik: Cheers, then.
Ms. London: Magazines and news media alike have reported on your love affair with your fans. You visit their conventions held in your name, stop to sign autographs even on location, joke with them backstage when appearing on talk shows. You are a man well loved in return. Tell me…this Mystery woman of yours. It’s been rumored you have more than the casual online relationship with a certain California lass.
Erik: We’ve been corresponding some months now, yes. She’s a particularly scholarly woman and has had quite a few insights to share.
Ms. London: And there is nothing more?
Erik: The woman you refer to lives six thousand miles from me. She has an astute sense of things, me in particular.
Ms. London: So she wrote a fan letter to you?
Erik: Yes, of sorts. It was much more detailed than the usual.
Ms. London: Must have been for you to take notice.
Erik: I try to look at as many of my correspondence as possible. Since the release of Midnight Music I am afraid the numbers have overwhelmed me. I use a very adroit and sensitive agency to help me along those lines.
Ms. London: There have been many reports of your personal response from your fans. You have even called a few?
Erik: I have. Ring them up when something moves me. Mostly in an attempt at support. There was one woman who’d just lost her mum and was so shattered. She’d written letters of appreciation to me in the past. I felt her pain through her words. You know—sometimes fans feel a bit like family.
Ms. London: And this Ms. California?
Erik: She’s a gem, almost a soothsayer of sorts. She’s seen into me in a personal way. You know—she understands that this business is not all lights and glamour.
Ms. London: How so?
Erik: Well---one minute you’re just another bloke strolling down Hyde Park unrecognised, the next you’re being chased through the streets of Soho nearly to your door. It gets old. Sometimes intrusive, often impersonal.
Ms. London: How can that be when the object of fan’s affections is you?
Erik: Don’t misunderstand me luv. Most fans are respectful of me…my time and personhood. What they don’t recognize is the isolation. When you start becoming known and your days are filled with work sometimes 16 hours straight, you have little time to be in the ‘real world’ meeting everyday people. Sometimes the girl at Starbucks is the only hen I meet in the course of a day. By the time I’m back at the hotel it’s late, I’m knackered and I’ve got to do it all over again with 6:30 call.
Ms. London: So the world’s hottest bachelor has no time for women?
Erik: Long and the short of it…yeah.
Ms. London: The Internet connection makes sense then?
Erik: Not sure I can say that. Nothing’s made sense since she’s been writin’ me. She seems to know what’s brewing inside me head before I do. That’s what’s weird.
Ms. London: And what will you do next location shoot? I hear you will be even more isolated than usual.
Erik: Yes. Iceland startin’ November 13. Won’t be back in the modern world until late winter.
Ms. London: For the tulips to bloom in Russell Square?
Erik: Surely by then.
Ms. London: (laughs) So Ms. Mystery will be your only solace. Or perhaps you have given your e-mail address to others.
Erik: No, no I never do. That would overwhelm me.
Ms. London: So we won’t expect to see it posted at EB.net anytime soon.
Erik: (chuckles) Not even so much as an on set photo.
Ms. London: Then what I’ve heard is true…you won’t have Internet or phone access.
Erik: Pretty much. We will be shooting in the wilds. The film is about Early Christian era Scandinavian warriors and Billy---our director—has decided to shoot without any CGI. He wouldn’t be wantin’ any phone wires showin’ or airplanes flyin’ over.
Ms. London: No Ms California then either.
Ms. London: Unless you take the lady along.
Erik: You seem to have some misinformation. My lady friend is happily married teaching in the L.A. area. It’s words pure and simple between us.
Ms. London: It seems you are the loneliest man in London.
Erik: Sometimes feels that way, yes.
Ms. London: After this interview I expect you’ll be receiving more mail than you know what to do with. All the ladies will want to be added to your e-contacts---certainly enough to keep you company on the long Icelandic nights.
Erik: I expect I’ll have a snowmobile to spirit me across the tundra. Don’t you be worrying about me then.
Ms London: You’ve been working out for this one have you?
Erik: My personal trainer sees to the everyday and I am practicing choreography for the sword fightin’, accent training as well.
Ms. London: Might come in handy to fight off a jealous husband or two?
Erik: No worries there. I’m an honourable man.
Ms. London: Is there anywhere we might read more about this actor’s angst of yours?
Erik: I’ve been told theirs a fictionalized version written by some woman with like experience. (winks) But then they say I’ll be playing Rabbi Burns next summer and some fictional Scot character Jamie in a made for t.v. saga over 16 nights. (Laughs) We’ll just wait and see on those.
Ms. London: In the meantime your fans can read this fictionalized account?
Erik: Long as they know it’s just that.
Ms. London: Thank you for coming in today. We’ll look forward to the fall release of your thriller Bird in a Cage and the upcoming Icelandic Tale when?
Erik: Toronto Film festival next year I expect. We’ll see about international distribution as the time approaches. I’ll leave that to the powers that be. Cheers.
Ms. London: To read about the fictionalized life of one hot Scot actor go to Phaze.com opening page. ‘Select a Phaze author and title for quick access’ from the pull down menu—Christine London and then a title immediately below “SOUL IN HIS EYES”—click on ‘go’ and you’ll be linked to the purchase page. Or click this link: http://www.king-cart.com/Phaze/product=Soul+in+His+Eyes/exact_match=exact
Scottish Film star, Erik Bartholomew is rescued from the lonely isolation of fame by an unlikely fan living half a world away. Little does she know he will return the favor when her world is torn apart by tragedy.
Erik swung his leg over the seat of the red snowmobile. A month and a half of shooting had passed and he was going stir-crazy, having seen far too much of the interior of kwanset huts and tents. Christmas had been spent on site. The slow progress of the shoot and the expense of having full crew and cast demanded it.
He turned over the engine and took off in a cloud of powdered snow. It was that eerily beautiful twilight that seemed to exist only at this latitude. The horizon glowed in cold pinks, blues and indigos; the stark white of the landscape rolling softly towards it. Escaping from his responsibilities, he hoped to find some arctic atmosphere and solitude. The sound of the engine purred in his ears through the helmet. He searched ahead, scanning for hills and dunes that would allow him to slip the constraints of gravity. The sensation reminded him of dirt biking in the American Southwest over dunes of sand. The air cut past him, the speed intoxicated. As he shot over the top of each crest, his thighs squeezed the seat tightly. The possibility of being hurled off into some drift was exhilarating.
As his eyes swept across the tundra, the waves of chromatic rainbowing began. Dimly, at first, then with increasing intensity, the undulating curtains of colour moved in a rhythmic dance across the sky. If he never got to see another one of the thousand things and places he wanted to see before he died, he could exit at peace. First thing he’d do at the pearly gates, is to thank the Lord for having let him see this haunting mystical phenomenon. It was the most spectacular holiday season he could remember.
He longed to share the moment with Christine and wondered what she was doing as he flew over the frozen threshold between heaven and earth. He visualized her arms clinging around his waist, warm breath at his neck, peels of laughter as they sailed across the crests of the snow-laden ground.
He missed her sense of humor, her gentle reassurances, and deep insights. It seemed an eternity since the last e-mail, with a great chasm of time still stretching out ahead before he could return to the techno-realities of the twenty first century and touch her with his words. He sped up, trying to freeze such longings from his mind.
Music: Three Door Down Here Without You
What ensued was a spectacular ballet of men, horses and swordplay. Erik and Rune’s mounts charged at a gallop. The men streamed past each other turning their horses back to confront. Each man had his weapon in his hand.
“Is that the way it’s supposed to go, Doug?”
“Yes. They will dismount and face each other in the next bit.”
Billy cut the scene and called for a retake. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Will they actually fight each other today?”
“That has already been shot, ma’am. It required more close up work and we’re shooting only the generic action in between; you know, stunt stuff.”
“Yeah, Erik did tell me that,” she said absently. “That’s why he didn’t need to be here. They can film it with his stunt double.”
“Just so, miss.”
The two groups of men reset, action was called. As the fight unfolded, she watched in amazement at the coordination and grace of the actors and their animals.
As Erik and Rune approached each other on their speeding horses, she saw Rune raise his sword, on the far side of his horse away from the camera.” She gasped, as he swung it above his head, around and downward toward Erik’s passing steed.
Erik’s horse swerved to the right, narrowly avoiding collision. The momentum threw Erik to the ground, his sword being knocked from his grasp. Rune’s horse reared on hind legs. As he quieted, Rune dismounted and approached Erik.
“Ya all right, mate?” he asked as Erik regained his feet.
Erik delivered a right hook, forcing Rune to stumble backwards, his sword lowered, but still in his hand. As Rune was off balance, Erik quickly picked up his sword from the ground and came at him. Rune defended, blocking Erik’s blow in quick reaction.
“What the fuck are ya doin’, man; forcin’ me off my horse?” Erik spit the words out.
Rune returned the sword blow with an upward thrust, the force of which knocked both men’s weapons from their hands. Startled, they froze for a moment. Erik tackled Rune, both rolling to the ground; each exchanging punches as they struggled to regain their footing.
Two of the cast had by this time, dismounted and were actively trying to separate the two men.
Billy ran toward them, yelling, “All right, boys, brake up this nonsense”. As cast restrained each, they glared at the other, catching their breath, rage in their eyes. Blood trickled from Rune’s nose. Erik’ cheek had a scrape across it. Both men had dirt and sweat covering them.
“I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you two, but it’s to stop right here,” Billy shouted as he stood between the restrained men. “I’ll have none of this unprofessional behaviour on my set.”
“He bloody well forced me off my horse, Billy. You know that’s not in the script,” Erik ranted, shaking the arms of his restrainer off him and standing full height, fists tight at his sides. Rune jerked his arms upward, breaking the hold of the man containing him.
“I didn’t mean for your horse to get spooked, man,” he growled.
“What the fuck did you expect, weildin’ that bleedin’ sword at the last minute?”
“Enough!” Billy shouted. “You’re both through for the mornin’. I want to see you in my office. One hour.”
Also available through Fictionwise.com and Amazon.com Kindle books
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Check out what Bitten by Books has to say about my erotic paranormal novella, Beast Magic in their review: There are moments of magic and action that bring out the spiciness of this story. I recommend you keep a bucket of ice nearby to cool down the heat.
Read the rest of the review at http://bittenbybooks.com/?p=420