Mancandy Monday: Steve Guttenberg

Yeah, what of it? I mean, come on. Check this bitch out:

That's him in Cocoon, being all unashamedly hairy and small-shorts-wearing, all the while beaming that big cheeky grin of his because I tell you, my thirteen-year-old crush having self knew. She just knew on some level that he was the kind of guy who loved taking off his clothes, and would do just about whatever you wanted him to, in the sack. The kind of laidback, uncaring guy who'd be all "Oh, you want me to bite down hard on this little piece of wood? Oh, okay, I guess, sure! That sounds like fun, why not?!"

Because he's just. That. Amiable and open to weird sex games.

I remember first seeing him in Police Academy, wearing this:

And to this day, the Police Academy theme song still turns me on. It's like pavlov's dog, only with a jaunty, protector of the people kind of whistly tune instead of a bell. And it's in part because of Mahoney, but also because of this HBIC:

I wanted to be her. I wanted to be her, and get Mahoney in a headlock with my thighs. I still sometimes do. I still sometimes do, always, Steve Guttenberg. You were a big hairy man and it was kind of weird to fancy you while all my friends liked hairless little drippy pale creatures like the monsters out of The Descent, but I didn't care.

I loved you just the same. And maybe also wanted to make your voice go all high-pitched the way it sometimes did in all your movies, while possibly having weird alien sex with you that obviously made you nervous.*

*I swear to God, it actually happens in the movie Cocoon. Honestly. Go see it, it happens. No wonder I was so sexually confused.

Cave Dweller

As I've now signed the contract, I thought I'd make a blog post. About the most orsum thing to ever happen ever since the dawn of time.

Okay- maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. Maybe it's not as orsum as, say, the invention of chicken satays or the glory of Evan Lysacek's ass (pictured here).




But even so, I've got to say. Having Ellora's Cave accept your work for publication is pretty fookin' amazing. By any standards, I think that's pretty amazing. So amazing that when the executive editor emailed me, I had a total blubbing meltdown and my husband leapt out of bed to find out who had tried to murder me/whether Freddy Krueger had just appeared at the window/if someone had just insulted me on the tinternetz.

None of the above had happened, just so everyone knows. Freddy isn't real, I swear, I hope, oh God if he makes me merge with a mantelpiece and rapes me with giant elastic arms in my dreams I'm going to be very upset.

Especially as I've just been welcomed into the cave that is Ellora's. By God, just saying it makes me spazz out. I remember discovering EC about three years ago, and being all: WHAT is THIS? WHY did someone not TELL ME that there's a publisher putting out actual erotic books that are also horrors, and sci-fis and fantasies and historicals, week after week?

As much as Black Lace was a revelation for me, fifteen years ago, EC was a revelation in just how filled with variety erotica could be. And now I'm going to be a part of it (touch wood, always touch wood, probably of the attached to Murdock from the A-Team variety). Alongside some of my favourite authors- Madison Hayes, Leda Swann, Kate Pearce, Portia Da Costa, Evangeline Anderson, Summer Devon, Bronwyn Green, Nathalie Gray, Ann Wesley Hardin, Joey W Hill, Cara McKenna, Sommer Marsden and Denise Rossetti.

Listing all of those makes my knees knock together. And maybe I also have an orgasm, while thinking about all of that orsumness.

Somehow I don't think my paltry orsumness is going to live up to that legacy. But I'm going to try. Here's the blurb for the novella I'm going to try with:

When Quade swoops in to save his arch nemesis, Sol, from bloodthirsty Cybers, he doesn’t expect to find himself almost torn apart, terrified beyond imagining and even worse- declaring love to her.

But now they’re trapped on Sol’s ship, and both are half-wild with the lust drug they seem to have been pumped full of. If they can’t get a hold of themselves quick, they’re going to be doing some pretty dirty things. And even worse, Sol doesn’t seem to mind at all, that newfound feelings are bursting out all over.

Especially the ones that include wild and constant sex, with her former enemy.

It's very heavily inspired by Firefly, very filled with bits of Nathan Fillion and bits of Red Dwarf and my love of funny sci-fi. And of course, it's jam-packed with my love of La Roux, the most orsum band to ever exist ever. Can't believe I wrote the below blog post about ten seconds before I got the acceptance email. That must be some sort of karmic cosmic world beating coincedence.

Right now, you and me are okay, universe. I think I may even love you, a little bit.

Playlists

Okay, this is probably interesting to no-one (except for you, Bertha. Always for you), but I thought I'd share some of the music I like to write to. I always make playlists on the Greatest Invention The World Has Ever Seen, and certain songs become kind of almost like the theme songs to my work. These songs are pissed, that they have to be attached to so much absolute nonsense.

But ha, song, I have you now! You have to be my theme songs, if I tell you to.

Anyway, theme songs from various random garbage, from me:

Control: A Kiss Is Not A Contract, Flight of the Conchords/Halo, Beyonce
The Things That Make Me Give In: I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked, Ida Maria
The Horizon: Waiting For My Real Life To Begin, The Cast of Scrubs/As If By Magic, La Roux/Armour Love, La Roux
Waiting In Vain: Uh, I think you can guess this one.
Tigerlily: Tigerlily, La Roux
Lust Dazed: Sweet Ballad, Munchausen By Proxy
Past Pleasures: Armour Love, La Roux/Hello (Turn Your Radio On), Shakespears Sister

Things I'm working on at the moment:

Alpha Male: Bust Your Windows, Jazmine Sullivan/Transformation, My Demon Lover Soundtrack
Electric Dreams: Bulletproof, La Roux/The Oh of Pleasure, Ray Lynch

As you can see, there's a lot of La Roux. Because they wreck all. They just wreck it. I could listen to her haunting, yearning voice all the live long day, and especially when she's singing lines like:

"And you, you're the only home I've ever known."

and

"You seem to believe you belong to somebody else."

When I was going through a very bad time, writing-wise, La Roux helped me through. Armour Love helped me through. And I won't ever forget how powerfully writing The Horizon and listening to Armour Love/As If By Magic (and Waiting For My Real Life To Begin) affected me.

Not ever.

I poured everything I had into that story, and that music made me pour everything I had into that story, and I couldn't have let go and stopped panicking and thinking my career was over, if it had not been for those songs. They pushed me, and I pushed me, and I owe that little weird red-headed lady a lot.

Maybe one day I'll write her a letter. A mad one, like this blog post.

Mancandy Monday: Data, From Star Trek: The Next Generation

I'm on a bit of an android kick at the moment, so for this week's Mancandy Monday I thought I'd do everybody's favourite sexy (shut up, he is) robot: Data, from Star Trek: The Next Generation!

Here he is, looking hot:




Wait. What do you mean that's not Data? Of course it is, look at him! What are you saying? That he has an evol non-goatee wearing twin brother, Lore? Who will probably trick me into having hot monkey sex with him by pretending to be the nice one?

HOMG HOT.

Or at least, that's how my thirteen year old brain processed things. Data = orsum. Lore the evol twin brother who probably knew how to do filthy sounding things like "doggy style" and "sixty-nines" = even more orsum. So orsum, in fact, that I bought a boxset made out of Data's head, and snogged it while pretending it was Lore.

What? All of this is totally normal. Everyone prefers the bad android, okay? Loads of people snog inanimate objects, especially when they're thirteen. Or thirty.

But anyhoo, I'm pretty sure Data/Lore began my obsession with emotionally stunted, kind of innocent but probably secretly evol, men who can go all night and respond well to orders. And if you want any further evidence of my apparently very specific and completely odd taste in men, look no further than Evan Lysacek.

Who is doing the paso doble, tonight! Probably while wearing a cape. HOMG- it's the bad Evan! If he comes out wearing a goatee, I am going to flip out.

Cocktales. Cock...tales!

Oh, how I wish there were more tales, about winkies! Like the tale of Evan Lysacek's penis, and it's long and arduous journey to the centre of my underpants. Or the harrowing true story of the willy without a face.

Until some kind soul gave it one:

But I digress. I am really here to talk about Xcite books and their latest series of anthologies- Cocktales. Because my story, Oh, The Games We Play is in one of them!

http://www.xcitebooks.com/category-213/XB2067.html

My editor hasn't yet okayed me to say I'm in this antho, but since it's released and my name is up there on the website, I figure it's okay. It's okay, right? HOMG it's not, is it. BANISHED FOREVER!!!!!

Mancandy Monday: Robot Evan

My life is complete. Nothing can ever top this. Because last night on programme I previously hated, Dancing With The Stars, my latest mancrush Evan Lysacek danced futuristically as a robot to Bulletproof, by La Roux.

And THIS is what he looked like:

Like some sort of mad Ross Gellar impersonator, only with make-up and a mesh shirt that showed off his nipples. And lots of robotic moves so that I can now have orsum dreams about his off button, and his erection button, and the remote control I can use to make him go faster or slower or rewind that last bit, that was orsum.

Just watch it. It will make your dreams come true and turn your pants from dry to wet.

And if that was not enough, my novella, Waiting In Vain, is now available at Fictionwise:

http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/b108495/Waiting-in-Vain/Charlotte--Stein/?si=0

And it's 12th on Total-E-Bound's Fictionwise chart!

http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/p1100/Total-e-bound/?

Oh my sainted days, I don't know what to do with myself!

Holy Mother Of All That Is Sweet And Pure

Yeah, I know I should probably comment on the election. Maybe I should be all stressed that my country is now on the level of some made up country that elects a goat as Prime Minister.

But I know where my priorities lie. They lie with Murdock from the A-Team, and the fact that today is the greatest day of all time because I finally learnt his first name. It's James. At last, I need not puzzle over what to cry out in the throes of passion. James! Oh, James!

Also: how hot is he in the above TV spot? I am having cold sweats. I'm shaking with unbridled knicker-wetting lust. Just the sight of his side-parted mental ward hair at the beginning, oh. Oh, I don't want annnn-ee-body else. When I think about you I touch myself whoa-oh-oh.

Mancandy Monday: Jake Gyllenhaal's Older British Brother

Have just seen the Prince of Persia trailer, and I mean seriously. SERIOUSLY. When did he grow a British sounding brother with pecs of steel and manly stubbly and the movie The Mummy going on around him?





Of course I've seen pictures of him in this already, looking all manbooby and rugged. But nothing prepared me for the trailer, and the pod person version of the guy I used to fancy in Donnie Darko. Only, you know. Pod person in the very best sense of that term. Pod person in the sense of me inventing the pod technology, and using it to create more hot, manbooby dudes with swords, who still have that inner core of being Jake Gyllenhaal, all probably repressed and big eyed and what do you mean you want to touch my winky? I need to ride out into the desert and capture the Sand Gobulet of Irun-Cok without a shirt on!

Oh, swoon.

I'll just follow behind you, New Jake Gyllenhaal (or in fantasy land terms: Nu-juk Jilani'hal), and brew my love potions, and suddenly shoot you with a dart from my lust-gun. Then BLAMMO! Hot in-a-cave seksing, with extra magical sand orgasms!

Roll on 28th May.

P.S. I'm blogging over at Total-E-Bound today about finishing something, and starting other things! Stop by and visit me! http://totalebound.blogspot.com/2010/05/finishing.html

Six Months Of My Life

And now Control is done. Of course it's not completely done, because now my editor has to read it and probably shun me for all eternity and cast me down into the bowels of Hades or some similar thing, for writing the worst book ever written.

But it's written, at least. 74,200 words. Bucketloads of sex. Too many sweater-vests to count. One pair of pink knickers, many, many dom/sub games, a parcel of menage stuff, a gaggle of made up smutty book names, very little seen of the city of York and a patridge in an up the bum pear tree.

I don't know what to do with myself, now. But I do know that it's very fitting, that today is the day my book went up on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Control-Charlotte-Stein/dp/1907016449/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1272756562&sr=8-1

http://www.amazon.com/Control-Charlotte-Stein/dp/1907016449

It's only available to pre-order on the UK site, at the moment, but I don't care- I'm just relieved it's there. And that the blurb on the US sight resembles the book I handed in, because I couldn't remember what I'd actually written! What if the blurb had said: Madison Morris likes to eat hamsters and shits rainbows? Madison Morris likes dudes who are entirely neutral on the whole dom/sub thing? Madison Morris owns a supermarket and is having it off with a trolley dolly?

Phew. Dodged a bullet, there.