tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13302884129574777862024-03-14T03:05:01.296+00:00Charlotte SteinSome words on stuff, by me! Please check all small children and the easily disturbed at the gate - exposure to Naughties imminent.Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.comBlogger226125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-54522372501513910902014-04-08T20:20:00.001+01:002014-04-08T20:25:50.732+01:00Moving To Greener Pastures!If you're visiting this place you might want to know that I have moved to a different blogging venue! Want words about my stuff? Like knowing about my books, man-shaped interests and other things? You can find all of that here now:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://charlottestein.net/blog/"><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: '.HelveticaNeueUI'; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap;">http://charlottestein.net/blog/</span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap;"> </span></a><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Plus, if you go there you can also find my newsletter, that gives you access to free books, giveaways, news and all kinds of things. Hooray!</span>Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-84472520112408779752013-01-29T03:07:00.001+00:002013-01-29T03:07:59.031+00:00New Book Releases!So I have a book out! Hooray! I thought I should say here, too, cos so far have only said on Twitter. And perhaps you, gentle reader of this blog, do not like Twitter. Maybe you came here via a circuitous route. Perhaps you were exploring the gentle fens and spinneys of the internet wilderness, and came across this place. Or maybe I'm just imagining you and should now accept that this blog is basically my own personal diary of writing stuff that has happened to me, because the writing diary/scrapbook my Mum bought me sadly languishes on a shelf with nothing in it.<br />
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Anyway, to the matter at hand!<br />
<br />
Here is my new book:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h28gCU82qr8/UQc03WkojKI/AAAAAAAAA6o/UWhxoMKIIgs/s1600/Addicted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h28gCU82qr8/UQc03WkojKI/AAAAAAAAA6o/UWhxoMKIIgs/s320/Addicted.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
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Is that not the best cover you've seen me have? It has to be, because many of my other covers range from nightmarish to an advert for bad photoshop. Thank God my publisher, Mischief, is now producing these marvellous wonders...have you seen the ones for Power Play, Make Me and Deep Desires? I could cry with happiness. Apparently, covers are very important to me. <br />
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But I digress, again. Here is the blurb:<br />
<br />
Kit Connor has always led a safe, cautious life. But when her friend points out that her erotic writing lacks something, she decides to attend a Sexual Healing group to improve her knowledge. She expects to find the gritty underbelly of sex, and instead finds louche, laidback, sex-loving Dillon Holt.<br />
<br />
He makes a suggestion to her: that he will tell tales of his sexual excess, and help her book get the realism it needs. She agrees, but hasn't the least idea of what she's getting into. Dillon doesn't have simple advice in mind … he has lessons to teach her. Lessons on everything she's never dared to experience, from kink to real passion.<br />
<br />
Now Kit is never sure: is Dillon the addict, or is she just addicted to him?<br />
<br />
Sounds good, right? And if it doesn't, maybe letting you know that the massive, sexy, lusty hero, Dillon, is based on this fine slab of man-meat:<br />
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<br />
You may have guessed as much, considering the feelings I expressed about Chris Evans not so long ago on this very blog. But if you didn't, now you know!<br />
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And if you're still not convinced, here is an excerpt, that lies encased within the delicious slice of man-shoulder on my lovely cover:<br />
<br />
I know he’s behind me. It’s like his presence is pressing against the fabric of the universe, and I’m forced to notice it whether I want to or not. Plus . . . you know. I can also actually <em>see</em> him in the flat-black gaze of the shop windows across the street. He’s about ten paces back, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of the hoodie he’s put on.<br />
<br />
I’ll admit: I kind of expected him to brave the elements in just that ridiculous T-shirt. But it makes him more human to see him with some layers on. He’s not some sexual superhero, swinging through the November-washed streets in just his undercrackers.<br />
<br />
Even he has a line of normalcy drawn in the sand of his insides.<br />
<br />
It’s just that this line includes following me – because come on, now. He totally is. I stop when I get to the window of a newsagent’s and pretend to be examining a sign for someone’s missing cat, just to see if he’ll stop too. And when he does, it couldn’t be more obvious that he’s only doing so because I did. He has to feign interest in the contents of a store that sells orthopaedic trusses, for God’s sake.<br />
<br />
I almost want to shout back at him that he’d look great in a girdle.<br />
<br />
But I refrain. Jokey comments about his gut-restraining needs will only encourage him – and after I did so well to evade him back at the hall. Out here, I’m never going to get away with declaring loudly that I need a wee. There’s no one here to frown at him for stopping me visiting the toilet.<br />
<br />
He had to let me go, then. He doesn’t have to let me go now.<br />
<br />
Unless this isn’t actually a thing – which could be the case. Maybe I’m just imagining him all hot on my trail, ready to take me down for the terrible crime of sex-addiction fakery.<br />
<br />
‘Hey, Kit – wait up!’<br />
<br />
Or maybe not.<br />
<br />
I try walking faster, but to no avail. You can’t block out sound by moving your feet more rapidly – and even you could, he’ll soon be close enough for me to read his lips. Two of his strides make up seventeen of mine, and he makes short work of the distance between us. In fact, I’m starting to wonder if his speed and persistence mean something else.<br />
<br />
Maybe he <em>kills</em> people for faking sex addiction. He’s the fabled Fake Sex Addiction Killer, and I’m about to be horribly offed in the doorway of a Burger King.<br />
<br />
‘This is a <em>really</em> long way around to the bathroom,’ he says, which at least reassures me on the murdering front. If not the <em>anything else</em> front. He’s going to want to have a discussion, now, about that one word he whispered, and I am not at all prepared for it.<br />
<br />
I didn’t bring my conversational shotgun.<br />
<br />
‘Are the facilities not seven streets down? Oh, that’s pretty foolish of me. Well – I’m here now. Might as well keep going. Goodnight, Dillon!’<br />
<br />
I say ‘Goodnight, Dillon’ far too hysterically. Even I know that, and I’m the person who never realises when I’m being hysterical. I just discover that <em>Masterchef</em> didn’t record and then hurl the remote control through the television.<br />
<br />
‘Hey – you remembered my name.’<br />
<br />
I don’t look at him when he speaks. Sensing the weight of those beautiful eyes on the side of my face is enough. I feel like I’m basking in the light and heat of some sun from a distant galaxy, where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.<br />
<br />
‘I think anyone would remember your name.’<br />
<br />
‘Huh. Really? Why’s that, then?’<br />
<br />
<em>Because you delivered a ten-page essay to the class: </em>Why I Like Oral Sex<em>, by Dillon Holt. Because you look like the picture they put under the word ‘memorable’ in the dictionary. Because of a million things, a billion things, all of which cannot be said by someone like me.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
‘Because you went to a sexual healing group to <em>brag</em>,’ I say, finally – though I immediately regret it. It’s the only answer I had in my head that doesn’t feel true, and now I’ve slathered it all over him.<br />
<br />
He’s going to nail me for it, I know.<br />
<br />
And he does. He just does it with more gentleness than I expect. He actually sounds as light as air and like he’s half-laughing when he says:<br />
<em></em><br />
‘Is that better or worse than going to a sexual healing group with a fake sex addiction?’<br />
<br />
‘I didn’t fake anything.’<br />
<br />
‘Oh, honey. Come on. Nuns could have told you that you were faking. I’ve heard more convincing tales of sexual excess from my elderly grandfather.’<br />
<br />
Christ, I <em>knew</em> I shouldn’t have said that thing about the leather miniskirt. I bet true sexual adventurers haven’t worn leather miniskirts since 1982. And besides . . . he’s got to know what that would look like on me. I couldn’t land a fish in something that showed my thighs – never mind a man.<br />
<br />
It’s no wonder he’s sceptical.<br />
<br />
Though, lucky for me, he doesn’t continue this line of questioning. I’m already cracking under the pressure, and he’s barely begun his cross-examination. Thank God he changes the subject, to something even worse.<br />
<br />
‘Did it really seem like I was bragging?’<br />
<br />
I have to look at him then. That note of sincerity in his voice kind of makes me do it – but his expression doesn’t contradict what he’s saying. He’s almost wincing, with one thumbnail caught between his teeth. As though he truly didn’t realise how he was coming across. He just said what he was feeling – in the exact way he does now, while I’m all naked and unprepared.<br />
<br />
‘Guess it did, huh?’ He shakes his head. ‘Really didn’t mean it that way. Just never revealed stuff like that before . . . kind of felt like I was talking about someone else’s life. But nope – that’s me. The guy who ran to a hospital wearing a cardboard box.’<br />
<br />
He sounds rueful, now, and it makes me wonder: was he really aiming his amusement at the whole idea of sexual healing? Or was he laughing at himself, for being such a fool?<br />
<br />
‘But enough about me. What about you? What made you fake being a sex addict?’<br />
<br />
Shame,<em> </em>I think, but I can’t say that.<br />
<br />
So it shocks me when he does it instead.<br />
<br />
‘You embarrassed about how you really are?’<br />
<br />
‘No.’<br />
<em></em><br />
<em>Yes</em>.<br />
<br />
‘You don’t have to be – there’s no crime in being a little shy. Is that why you went there in the first place? To maybe get you out of your own shell for a while?’<br />
<br />
For a second I’m too stunned to speak. How does he get something like that? It isn’t even the actual reason, and yet somehow it feels more real than anything I tell him next. I make my voice strong and firm, and I go with the party line. But inside I’m still that fumbling fool who couldn’t even hug a man properly.<br />
<br />
‘I’m doing research for the book,’ I say, and he buys it. Why wouldn’t he? I bought it, and I’m the one living this life. I believed it right up until the moment he called me out, and if possible I’m going to keep doing so.<br />
<br />
I’m not timid and tentative and unable to look him in the eye.<br />
<br />
I’m Kit Connor, sultry sex bomb. Who flushes red when he says:<br />
<br />
‘A dirty book?’<br />
<br />
‘Yes.’<br />
<br />
‘About insane braggarts like me?’<br />
<br />
‘No,’ I say, but there’s another version of that answer in my head.<br />
<em></em><br />
<em>Yes. Yes. I could devote an entire book to you. I could tell tales of your eyes for ever, and never stop writing lines about the laundry-sweet scent of your amazing skin. You, Dillon Holt, are all the things I’ve always wanted as inspiration, and never quite found in anything but fantasy land.</em><br />
<br />
Thank God I don’t go with it. My head sounds like a drooling moron.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And finally, here are some buy links:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Addicted-Mischief-Books-ebook/dp/B009ULEJ3Y/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359427774&sr=1-1">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Addicted-Mischief-Books-ebook/dp/B009ULEJ3Y/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359427774&sr=1-1</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Addicted-Mischief-Books-ebook/dp/B009ULEJ3Y/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359057199&sr=1-1&keywords=charlotte+stein+addicted">http://www.amazon.com/Addicted-Mischief-Books-ebook/dp/B009ULEJ3Y/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359057199&sr=1-1&keywords=charlotte+stein+addicted</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/addicted-charlotte-stein/1113580280?ean=9780007491605">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/addicted-charlotte-stein/1113580280?ean=9780007491605</a><br />
<br />
Hooray! <br />
<br />
But wait, there's more. Because my other publisher decided that RIGHT NOW was the best time to release another title from me, and therefore, behold:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mflCpO5oc3E/UQc1nHkOpNI/AAAAAAAAA60/o1Jxl9ss_Zw/s1600/9781909520677_FC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mflCpO5oc3E/UQc1nHkOpNI/AAAAAAAAA60/o1Jxl9ss_Zw/s320/9781909520677_FC.jpg" width="205" /></a></div>
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And okay, before you say anything...I actually love this cover too. Yes, I know it's cheesy. Yes, I know it looks like a yachting advert from 1985. But it does sum up the book very well. It's lighthearted and fun and it's set on a boat. Hooray!<br />
<br />
I don't know why being set on a boat gets a hooray, however. It just does, so there.<br />
<br />
Here is the blurb:<br />
<br />
When Judy Myers is offered a relaxing vacation to get away from her latest
heartbreak, she can’t say no. A cruise on her brother’s yacht sounds like
heaven...until she realises her brother’s best friend has been invited along for
the ride. Steven Stark is big, he’s loud, and he’s obviously not interested in
the plump, plain little sister he used to tease unmercifully. <br />
<br />
In fact, he’s
still quite happy to tease her – until she turns the tables on him. Now Steven
can’t seem to keep his thoughts, or his hands, to himself. And worse, Judy’s not
sure she can resist the attraction she’s kept buried for so many years. Being
trapped on a boat isn’t the best place to be, when you’re suddenly thrown a
hunky curveball.
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<span class="swSprite s_expandChevron"></span><a class="showMore" href="http://www.amazon.com/Curve-Ball-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00B4GUNA6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359427918&sr=1-1&keywords=curve+ball+charlotte+stein#">Show more</a> </div>
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<span class="swSprite s_collapseChevron"></span><a class="showLess" href="http://www.amazon.com/Curve-Ball-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00B4GUNA6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359427918&sr=1-1&keywords=curve+ball+charlotte+stein#">Show less</a> </div>
And an excerpt:<br />
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And naturally, it’s only after the words are out that I realise the mistake I’ve made. In fact, I realise several of the mistakes I’ve made. For a start, I just yelled while on a yacht, in the middle of the ocean. The silence out here is so total and dream-like that anything above a whisper sounds loud.<br />
<br />
So this … This sounds <em>really </em>loud.<br />
<br />
And then of course there’s the fact that I said all of this to Steven. Steven, who was my brother’s best man. Steven, who once fixed my scooter for me when I rode it right off the kerb and into my Dad’s car, at the age of 13. Steven, who’s now looking at me with a face like a deflated balloon.<br />
<br />
Oh God, why is he looking at me with a face like a deflated balloon? Isn’t he meant to be massive and impervious to all attacks? I was certain he was. At the very least, I was certain that nothing I could ever say would make the slightest bit of difference to him. He’s like a glorious golden god, and I’m like …<br />
<br />
Well.<br />
<br />
I’m a flesh avalanche. I’m a nothing. I’ve long since accepted that the kid he used to pay attention to grew up into the kind of person he looks right through, now, and that he grew up into the kind of person that no one can look right through, ever. A mole would mysteriously find its eyeballs drawn to his presence.<br />
<br />
He’s magnetic.<br />
<br />
So why does he seem so horrified, now? Was the thing I said really so bad? I mean, true. I implied that he has gonorrhoea, and that no sane person would want to chase after him. But everyone in the world knows that this cannot be true. Just look at that mouth of his – I’ve seen Angelina Jolie look less pouty than that. And of course it’s even more pronounced, now, because he’s so deeply saddened by my terrible words.<br />
<br />
Plus, he keeps slicking the thing with some kind of sunblock stuff. I could slip and slide across the surface of his lower lip no problems at all, and worse … I think I’d like it. Anyone would like it. His mouth suggests so many sinful, sensuous possibilities – as do those sleepy blue eyes of his.<br />
<br />
The ones that rival the ocean, on any normal day.<br />
<br />
But now best it, in this slightly wounded state. It’s like someone has pulled a skein of smoke over them, and for a second I’m actually hypnotised. I’m completely drawn in, to the point where I almost apologise. In fact, the words are on the tip of my tongue, when he finally breaks the silence.<br />
<br />
With a laugh.<br />
<br />
A big, booming, careless laugh, as though none of this matters at all. It was just me imagining that he had things like feelings, when really he wouldn’t know one if it punched him in the face. I don’t why I let myself feel guilty, if this is all he’s got to say about it.<br />
<br />
‘Well, you’re probably right,’ he tells me, and that’s the end of that.<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But fair warning...this book is VERY me. It's like me squared. If you're only sort of okay about my voice and my style, you will hate this book with the passion of a thousand burning suns, most likely. So run away! Run away fast!<br />
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If, however, you do tend to think I'm okay...you might like this one a bit. It's just a frothy, fun little thing that I did after the extreme angst of Deep Desires. <br />
<br />
Oh, and here's the buy links, if you're still with me:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Curve-Ball-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00B4GUNA6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359427918&sr=1-1&keywords=curve+ball+charlotte+stein">http://www.amazon.com/Curve-Ball-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00B4GUNA6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359427918&sr=1-1&keywords=curve+ball+charlotte+stein</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Curve-Ball-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00B4GUNA6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1359428253&sr=8-1">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Curve-Ball-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00B4GUNA6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1359428253&sr=8-1</a><br />
<br />
<br />
There. All the telling of things is done! <br />
<br />Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-17309536655283699012013-01-14T02:58:00.001+00:002013-01-14T02:58:59.789+00:00Mancandy Monday: Chris EvansOh my God, how long has it been since I last blogged? So long that I've never actually done a Mancandy for Chris Evans, even though I've been macking on his fine ass for the better part of a thousand years. Seriously, there are cave paintings of me, attacking Chris Evans with my ladyboner. They look like this:<br />
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Of course, after showing you this I have to now admit that I don't really know what a ladyboner is. In my head it's just a generic term for being extremely excited, but when you're trying to put it into a picture, it gets kind of graphic and weird. No one's going to understand a huge lumpen mound between a cartoon's legs, which is basically what I'd have to draw if we're going with the whole gigantic swollen clitoris option. So I chose, instead, to visually represent it with the holding of a big club over a cowering Chris Evans.<br />
<br />
I think it gets the point across nicely. And if it doesn't, just look at something else on the picture - like the other marvellous aspect I chose to focus on. Yeah, you see the weird growth that stick figure Chris Evans appears to have in the general buttocks area? That's not a clitoris ladyboner that fell off me and landed on him.<br />
<br />
That's me, trying to encapsulate the wonder that is Chris Evan's ass.<br />
<br />
Because believe me, it IS a wonder. Want better proof than a crude drawing of a mutant clitoris?<br />
<br />
Behold:<br />
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<br />
Inorite? I don't know how to express the joy this simple body part brings me. I'm not even sure why it has such an effect on me. I've seen plenty of men's bottoms, in my time. I've admired an ass or two. But none of them have quite inspired me to the wordless, insane heights that this magnificent thing has.<br />
<br />
I think it's something to do with the <em>heft </em>of it. It seems almost bulky, like two bricks in a sock. Only the bricks are squidgy and attached to Captain America - because that's who he's playing in the above screen capture of the only important thing about the movie<br />
<br />
They should have just called it "A Million Girls On Tumblr Get Hypnotised By Some Rotating Buttocks". Because if I've managed to upload the gif instead of just an image, that's what you'll be seeing, now. Rotating buttocks. They spin, like the tassels on a showgirl's titties.<br />
<br />
And I love them, for that. I love that the cameraman or the director okayed this shot, and kept that lens locked on the only thing that mattered. I love that men's asses actually matter, now. I still remember the day when the camera would pan over Picard's face, and Worf's face, as they ascended a ladder. And then when it got to Troi...suddenly it needed to focus on cleavage.<br />
<br />
But now...we live in a world where the camera lingers just as lovingly on Chris Evan's trouser muffins. We live in a world where I can fill a blog post with nothing but rambling praise for these bouncing butt-bosoms, and not even give a single shit!<br />
<br />
I don't have to show his face, if I don't want to. <br />
<br />
But I will, cos his face is just as orsum as his downstairs doodlebugs. <br />
<br />
Behold!<br />
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That's right, Chris Evans. Look at me with that face. LOOK AT ME WITH IT.<br />
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Or failing that, look at me with your Captain America face:<br />
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Yeah, that's it. Be all bashful with me. Bite that lip, you filthy little virgin!<br />
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Because oh, did I not mention that? In Captain America, he plays a massively muscled six foot two inch superhero...who is absolutely one hundred percent a virgin. And not just any kind of virgin, either! A virgin from the 1930s, who honours and reveres women and is totally a fooking old school gentleman. <br />
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There will now be a brief intermission, in which I lie very still in a darkened room.*<br />
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Of course, if you're a frequent visitor to this blog who hasn't been in ages because I'm an asshole who never updates it, you'll know why I had to have that little lie down. In fact, if you know me in any way at all, either through Twitter or my books or some random comment I made somewhere that sometimes makes you cry at night, you'll totally get what moves me about this version of Captain America.<br />
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I love me some big, masculine, heroic virgin mens. And boy, is this one big:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5H7hz-jIiRA/UPNw7bw6wtI/AAAAAAAAA6M/6qATBh1v3FE/s1600/tumblr_m9jmsxRWdI1r8j1j3o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5H7hz-jIiRA/UPNw7bw6wtI/AAAAAAAAA6M/6qATBh1v3FE/s320/tumblr_m9jmsxRWdI1r8j1j3o1_500.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
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Yeah, check out those boobs. You can't even call them pecs, because they are, literally, a gigantic pair of enormous breasts. They're mantitties. They're dude bosoms. They're enormous shiny pillows of guyflesh, that my head would dearly like to rest upon.<br />
<br />
Can you imagine the night's sleep you'd get on those things? Just picture him when he's angry. I bet they heave, like only the chest of a 1970s romance novel heroine can do. If I he were mine, I'd put him in a wonderbra and make him pose for the cover of my next novel:<br />
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I Have No Idea Why I Like Giant Muscle-Tits On A Man<br />
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Only I do. <br />
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It's because it's orsum. <br />
<br />
So there.<br />
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*This may or may not be but definitely is code for me masturbating until my hand falls off. It's possible that this is also an explanation for my giant mutant clitoris.Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-56247402344485278832012-09-27T09:00:00.000+01:002012-09-27T18:27:35.235+01:00New Novella: Deep Desires!Phew! Has it really been so long since I said stuff, here? How time flies when you're being crushed by deadlines. But just to be clear: I love being crushed by deadlines. I'd never trade that sort of crushing for any other type, even if the other type was Armie Hammer suddenly sitting on my head.<br />
<br />
I mean, I'd like Armie Hammer sitting on my head. I certainly wouldn't discourage him from using my face a chair.<br />
<br />
It's just not quite as orsum as the constantly jolting realisation that I'm a writer. I have deadlines! I have deadlines and work and I do fings! Man, never thought I'd be here, three years ago. Thank God I chose a writing career over being Armie Hammer's personal bum cushion.<br />
<br />
But unfortunately, all of this nonsense means that I neglect my blog, dammit. Must try to do better! And I'll start here, by saying fings about my new novella. Yep, that's right. It's been so long that I actually have another novella out. It's called Deep Desires, and look, here it is:<br />
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<a href="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1348247303l/16038875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1348247303l/16038875.jpg" width="225" /></a><br />
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Yay!<br />
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Was so psyched to get that cover, I tell you what. Really suits the story, which is all dark and emotional and about two people who have to overcome things to be all hot and heavy and happy with each other. Which I think really goes with those breathless but somehow separated people in that image! <br />
<br />
Score. <br />
<br />
Anyhoo, here's the blurb for the book:<br />
<br />
<div class="book-summary">
<em>The Further She Goes, the More She Needs...</em></div>
<div class="book-summary">
</div>
<div class="book-description">
Abbie Gough has done her best to escape a violent past. But in the process, she’s avoided life, desire and love. So when she sees her equally closed off neighbour, Ivan, performing for her one night through his window, she can’t stop looking. <br />
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Voyeuristic pleasures become Abbie’s lifeline. But as she comes alive and craves more, Ivan backs away. He has his own secrets , the kind that draw her into kinky games and her own shameful desires, while also preventing real intimacy between them. But now she’s found someone so special, she’s not about to give up easily. And she’s willing to do whatever it takes to melt Ivan’s cool exterior. Even if captivating him means pushing through her limits to whatever lies beyond.</div>
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And some links:<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Deep-Desires-Mischief-Books-ebook/dp/B009GJLY4C/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1348609482&sr=1-1&keywords=charlotte+stein">http://www.amazon.com/Deep-Desires-Mischief-Books-ebook/dp/B009GJLY4C/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1348609482&sr=1-1&keywords=charlotte+stein</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Deep-Desires-Mischief-Books-ebook/dp/B009GJLY4C/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1348766731&sr=1-1">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Deep-Desires-Mischief-Books-ebook/dp/B009GJLY4C/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1348766731&sr=1-1</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/deep-desires/">http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/deep-desires/</a><br />
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<br />
It's only, like, 99p/$1.64 at the moment, so I reckon that's a bargain. It's 40k, so you're really getting some content for your quid, and honest it's a good book! It has nice fings in it! And sexy times! And oh I'm hopeless at this. How about if I give you Mandi Schreiner's word for it? She's an orsum book blogger, and look what she said:<br />
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"Whoa. So hot."<br />
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So it's totally worth your time. Honest. I promise. *hides from promo*<br />
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<br />Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-47935848155355386982012-06-13T11:24:00.001+01:002012-06-13T11:24:08.486+01:00New Novellas!I'm so sorry blog! And any blog readers! I know I've been neglecting you. And I doubly know this because since I last posted I've had two novella releases, and I haven't even mentioned them. How bad am I? I'm so bad I forget my own blog and my own books, as I plunge ever deeper into the murky world of intense deadlines.<br />
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But I'm here now to talk about:<br />
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a) Make Me<br />
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and <br />
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b) Restraint<br />
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Both of which are hot, sexy little tales of shenanigans. Make Me is a bit filthier...okay. It's A LOT filthier. So far, people have called it:<br />
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"the filthiest book ever"<br />
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Which isn't even a made up thing that I just said then. No - that's an actual quote from Goodreads. I don't even know how I wrote such a filthy book, TBH. But there it is: unadultered filth. Menage, two guys one girl, every variation possible. With just a dash of old feelings and new emotions.<br />
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You can buy Make Me at these places, if you're feeling brave:<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Make-Me-ebook/dp/B006Y0QFSG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1339575548&sr=1-1&keywords=make+me+charlotte+stein"><span style="color: #b80000;">http://www.amazon.com/Make-Me-ebook/dp/B006Y0QFSG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1339575548&sr=1-1&keywords=make+me+charlotte+stein</span></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Make-Me-ebook/dp/B006Y0QFSG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1339575515&sr=1-1"><span style="color: #b80000;">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Make-Me-ebook/dp/B006Y0QFSG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1339575515&sr=1-1</span></a><br />
<a href="http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-makeme-797819-144.html">http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-makeme-797819-144.html</a><br />
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And if you're feeling less brave, there's Restraint:<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EM3sXcztGss/T9hpPBI5mxI/AAAAAAAAAys/82Ge9cQS3kk/s1600/9781908917270_FC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EM3sXcztGss/T9hpPBI5mxI/AAAAAAAAAys/82Ge9cQS3kk/s320/9781908917270_FC.jpg" width="205" /></a></div>
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Which is still smutastical, but with a deeper romantic story. It's a little shorter than Make Me, but at $1.20 you can't really go wrong, can you? Especially when it's got a big, hunky repressed guy, and a heroine who wants to drive him absolutely nuts with dirty talk. Hooray!<br />
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You can get Restraint at these places:<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Restraint-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00876XSH6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1339538380&sr=1-1&keywords=charlotte+stein+restraint"><span style="color: #b80000;">http://www.amazon.com/Restraint-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00876XSH6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1339538380&sr=1-1&keywords=charlotte+stein+restraint</span></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Restraint-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00876XSH6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1339575473&sr=8-1"><span style="color: #b80000;">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Restraint-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00876XSH6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1339575473&sr=8-1</span></a><br />
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But just to make sure everyone knows...it's also featured in the anthology Hungarian Rhapsody. Just in case anyone's pre-ordered that one - don't want people mistakenly buying it twice.<br />
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And that's it for today! But I promise, blog, I will not neglect you again. I will return to you shortly, with more tasty tidbits for you to gnaw on!Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-68648353296145992732012-05-28T07:35:00.000+01:002012-05-28T07:35:41.091+01:00A Sticky Situation<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></b><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
So I'm in this fabulous anthology from Xcite - Hungarian Rhapsody. It's part of their superb Secret Library collection, and a huge amount of the fun of being in this one was the amazing people I got to be alongside. In Hungarian Rhapsody there's a novella from the amazing Justine Elyot, but also one from my guest here today - the incredible Kay Jaybee!</div>
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So without further ado, here she is!</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
idea behind my story, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Sticky Situation,</i>
came from a very ordinary occurrence- I dropped my breakfast down my jumper. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Yes, I confess- I have to be amongst the
world's clumsiest people. If there is a door frame I will walk into it, a loose
paving stone I will trip over it, or if a desk edge sticks out slightly, then I
will bruise my thigh on it. It doesn't matter if said item of furniture has
been in the same place for years, somehow I will catch myself on it, as the
never ending array of bruises on my arms and legs will testify!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
won't surprise you to know therefore, that there is a fairly good chance that during
any given meal, I will spill some of my dinner over the table or over my clothes,
and the chances of me visiting a restaurant without embarrassing myself in some
way is fairly slim. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Despite all of this cack-handedness
however, I’m a very organised person. Not a quality people often expect from me
after they’ve seen me attempt to walk down the road and fall off the kerb at
least twice. It is however the case (which is just as well, otherwise there is
no way I could balance writing, my job, and my family!).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
decided that I would give these trying ‘quirks’ of mine to Sally Briers, the
lead character in my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Secret Library</i>
story. Sorry Sally!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">If there is a paving
stone to trip over, or a drink to knock over, then Sally Briers will trip over
it or spill it. Yet somehow Sally is the successful face of marketing for a
major pharmaceutical company; much to the disbelief of her new boss, Cameron
James.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Forced
to work together on a week-long conference in an Oxford hotel, Sally is
dreading spending so much time with arrogant new boy Cameron; whose presence
somehow makes her even clumsier than usual. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Cameron
on the other hand, just hopes that he’ll be able to stay professional, and keep
his irrational desire to lick up all the accidently split food and drink that
is permanently to be found down Sally’s temptingly curvy body, all to himself. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">It
could be a very long week- unless Cameron can find a way of making Sally slop
so much of her after show champagne, that he has no choice but to march her off
and relieve her of her sodden clothing... He is sure that, if he could find a
way to stop Sally resenting him taking her previous bosses job, then they could
enjoy no end of sticky situations together...<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">A
Sticky Situation</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> is my first foray into the realms of
erotic romance. I have written romantic episodes within much (shall we say)
‘harder’ erotic stories and novels, but this time I have left my BDSM toys
locked away in the cupboard under the stairs in favour of a lighter touch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Fear not however, this novella is still
packed with KJB style kink, for as Sally and Cameron begin their enforced
period of work together at a conference; their road from mutual dislike to
mutual lust is far from straightforward! There is more than a dollop of
misunderstanding, some inconvenient fantasies, mysterious anonymous notes, a
slug of ice-cold store-cupboard action, a splatter of dinner, a dousing of wine,
and a sip or two of champagne before they can even contemplate a happy ending...Delicious...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">*****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.thesecretlibrary.co.uk/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">The Secret Library</span></a></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> is a new
range from Xcite Books which will appeal to the female romance reader market.
Each book contains three specially commissioned novellas guaranteeing a
satisfying and varied selection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The story content is relationship led with a strong alpha
male hero, a level of conflict and a climactic, explicit ending.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The covers are deliberately designed without visual imagery
to be discreet. These books could be comfortably read in public, given as gifts
and left on a bedside table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Secret Library contains six books with three erotic
romance novellas in each:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Innocence</span></a></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> – Toni Sands, Elizabeth Coldwell and K D Grace<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Stockings</span></a></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> – Constance Munday, Jenna Bright and Lucy Felthouse<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Long Hot Summer</span></a></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> – Elizabeth Coldwell, Penelope Friday and Shanna
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Thousand and One Nights</span></a></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> – Kitti Bernetti, Primula Bond and Sommer
Marsden<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/Game-Antonia-Adams/9781908262110?a_aid=creativewriter1985"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">The
Game</span></a></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> – Jeff Cott, Antonia Adams and Sommer Marsden<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Rhapsody</span></a></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> – Justine Elyot, Charlotte Stein and Kay Jaybee</span></div>
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<br /></div>Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-27631657766090276402012-04-17T02:16:00.007+01:002012-04-17T02:53:06.623+01:00Mancandy Tuesday: RobotsAs you may or may not be aware, I am currently obsessed with the soon to be released movie, Prometheus. Now - the reason for this is, of course, that it's a new Alien movie. No matter what Ridley Scott waffles on about, it clearly is. And the Alien movies influenced my young and tender self so much that I frequently put on the landing light, in case a xenomorph has somehow traversed the laws of reality and wound up unaccountably on my stairs.<br /><br />Even though my stairs are the very last place it would probably go, if it was monstrously birthed through a split in our universe. I mean, I know where I would go if I'd just managed to escape a Ridley Scott movie. I'd go find Michael Fassbender, and most likely hug his face a lot. With my vagina.<br /><br />But that's all beside the point. The point being: I adore the Alien movies. But there's another reason why I'm excited about Prometheus.<br /><br />I'm excited because it has an android in it. And for the first time since Aliens, it's actually a sexy android again. Glory be, I get to fantasise about another sexy android in a new Alien movie! It's like all my birthdays have come at once. In fact, it's kind of better than that, because the android isn't just sexy in this.<br /><br />He's also played by Michael Fassbender:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h2Q2ZFOdQqQ/T4zJycljnlI/AAAAAAAAAx4/Anl_qCfNhGU/s1600/2W2xH.jpg"><img style="width: 320px; height: 210px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732178294240157266" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h2Q2ZFOdQqQ/T4zJycljnlI/AAAAAAAAAx4/Anl_qCfNhGU/s320/2W2xH.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Who typically looks like this:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1pOKGTv8-B0/T4zK8rr1h3I/AAAAAAAAAyQ/9MOsDBeWn1I/s1600/michael-fassbender-obsession-04032012-05-435x580.jpg"><img style="width: 240px; height: 320px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732179569603348338" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1pOKGTv8-B0/T4zK8rr1h3I/AAAAAAAAAyQ/9MOsDBeWn1I/s320/michael-fassbender-obsession-04032012-05-435x580.jpg" /></a><br /><br />At which point, I have to wonder if Ridley Scott finagled his way into my noggin and read my private sex thoughts. Did that tear in reality monstrously birth him, instead of a xenomorph? It seems just as likely that a slimy and naked Ridley Scott crawled up my stairs, snuck into my bedroom and read my horny fantasy filled diary, as it does that he just happened to think Michael Fassbender would be right for the part of an orsum android.<br /><br />He could have easily cast Russel Crowe. Dear God, can you imagine? Russel Crowe in one of those skintight spacesuits, that immense gut rippling beneath the lycra, his great flaccid flabby undercooked face mooning out at us from beneath the glare of those space lights...<br /><br />The thought alone is enough to make me turn on every lamp in the house, just in case the universe decides to birth him, instead. Picture it: a mewling, naked, slime-covered Russel Crowe, hauling himself up the stairs after you...<br /><br />I may never sleep again.<br /><br />Unless Michael Fassbender as AN ACTUAL ORSUM ROBOT is there to save me.<br /><br />Because you see I've always liked robots. Always. It started with Bishop, in Aliens, who stirred my young loins in spite of being played by Lance Henriksen, who was once in a soft porn movie starring Joan Severance. And it progressed from there to Data from Next Generation, who lived up to all of those burgeoning fantasies I had about Bishop, and everything I subsequently loved about androids.<br /><br />I love the fact that they can be so gentle, you see. So unassuming...and yet so powerful! If you've ever read this blog you'll know I love a dude who embodies these contrasts - calm yet capable of such ferocity, repressed and unemotional but filled with strange yearnings, gentle but strong, humble but capable of amazing feats - these are all things I adore.<br /><br />And nothing embodies them more cleverly than an android.<br /><br />Man ALIVE I can't wait for this movie!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />P.S. My publisher, Mischief, is currently having a promotion. You get can many books - including my own, Power Play - for half price, here:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mischiefbooks.com/">http://www.mischiefbooks.com/</a><br /><br />They even have some fabulous titles for free!Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-16543069658180599682012-03-24T12:43:00.004+00:002012-03-24T13:00:39.488+00:00My New Book: Power Play<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zNnXY98xc0o/T23DZBBUk-I/AAAAAAAAAxg/v0Bn-SlRHNY/s1600/Power_Play_130212_325x465.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 226px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723445535995892706" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zNnXY98xc0o/T23DZBBUk-I/AAAAAAAAAxg/v0Bn-SlRHNY/s320/Power_Play_130212_325x465.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br />So my book with Harper Collins'/Avon's new erotic line, Mischief, released on Thursday. And as promised, I'm now doing a post that says a little bit about it.<br /><br />1. It's the most terrifying book I've ever written. Not because there's monsters in it, or anything. Just because I sold it on proposal to a massive publisher with an editor I respect and admire a ton. So you know. No pressure or anything.<br /><br />2. It's also the book that made me the most excited while writing it. And no, I don't mean excited as in popping party poppers and throwing balloons in the air. I mean the OTHER kind of excited. The kind with...uh...darkened rooms and lots of...lying down.<br /><br />3. The hero, Benjamin, was so fun to write that there were times I wanted to reach through the pages and squeeze his cheeks. And by cheeks, I mean the things inside his pants. I based him on Armie Hammer at his biggest, hottest, goofiest best, and when I didn't want to write anymore because of the abject terror, he made me.<br /><br />4. It starts off with the femsubbiest subby scene I've ever written, but soon plunges into the femdomiest femdom I've ever written. So hopefully there's a bit for everyone in there!<br /><br />5. Yes, I thought of the movie Secretary while I wrote it. Only you know. Backwards.<br /><br />6. Here's the blurb:<br /><br />When Eleanor Harding is abruptly promoted, she loses two very important things: the heated relationship she had with her boss, and control over her own desires. Without a restraining hand on her she finds herself suddenly craving something very different – and the office lackey, Benjamin, seems like just the sort of man to fulfil her needs. He’s eager, lustful and willing to show her all of the things she’s been missing – namely, what it’s like to be the one in charge, for a change. Now all Eleanor has to do is decide… is Ben calling the kinky shots, or is she?<br /><br />7. And if you're still here and interested, an excerpt:<br /><br /><br />"When he tells me to lift my skirt and bend over his desk, there’s a moment where I hesitate. There’s always a moment. It’s like the feeling just before the lock springs under the pressure of the correct key you’ve somehow chosen. My body goes completely still and the word no makes a fist in my throat, and then I just do it.<br /><br />I wriggle my tight skirt up over my thighs and expose my backside to his waiting gaze.<br /><br />In fact, I do much more than that. Mainly because I’ve started anticipating these little trips up to the thirtieth floor, and this morning I went without knickers. Plus, when I bend over my legs somehow automatically spread, so he doesn’t just get a view of the dark seam between the lush curves of my ass cheeks.<br /><br />He gets to see the slippery pink flesh between, as flushed and swollen as ever I’ve felt it. Of course I like to pretend I hate these little excursions up to the thirtieth floor, and that what Mr Woods does to me is degrading and disgusting and oh, isn’t it awful. But the fact remains that the moment he tells me to bend over in that silvery voice of his, my clit swells. My sex plumps. Wetness trickles from the clenching hole between my legs, down over my quite possibly quivering thighs.<br /><br />I quiver, for Mr Woods. I bend over, for Mr Woods. I forget that I was ever Ms Harding, Executive Editor of Barrett and Bates, and I become this other creature.<br /><br />I don’t even know her name, to be honest. She looks like me and talks like me and even acts like me in some respects – I still lay my hands on the desk so that they’re apart but parallel to each other – but she can never have that little buzz of respect before her name the way I so often do: Ms.<br /><br />And she could never let herself be used the way I’m going to let Mr Woods use me right now. I turn over in my mind each way he could possibly debase me as he stands behind me in his crisp grey suit with his crisp grey face and his mouth in that mean line it so often falls into.<br /><br />He could push something into my cunt. He’s never done it before, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t do it now if he wanted to. I’m as slick as I’ve ever been, but more than that I feel greedy down there, as though I could take anything he wanted to offer. That award he got, for excellence in business or something like it? That big, thick, curved one, with the little nubs all around its length like a thing just made for stirring the nerves inside someone’s body?<br /><br />Yeah, he could fill me with that, if he so chose. In my normal life, the life outside the strange, still unspoken relationship we’ve struck up, I would never let someone choose something like that for me.<br /><br />But here it’s different. Here he doesn’t have to say a word, and my mind floods with a million options, each more disgusting than the last. In fact, I suspect that my mind is actually far more disgusting than his. After all, he’s never actually fucked me. Most of the time he doesn’t touch me between my legs, and he hardly ever pushes me into touching him.<br /><br />It’s just this, it’s just him behind me with the thought of what he could do buzzing through my body. He could order me to oil my own ass and let him slip his cock inside. He could cane me until my flesh sang red-hot songs, until I bled and wept and begged him not to.<br /><br />And though I’m sure I’ve never wanted any of those things, there’s something about him that makes me give in anyway. Something about his eyes, as calm and colourless as a midwinter day. And his tone, his perfect, metallic tone.<br /><br />No order is ever barked; his voice is never raised. His orders don’t seem like orders, to be honest. One day he just said to me, quite matter-of-factly: I’d like to see your cunt now, Ms Harding. In the same way one might ask to see the quarterly reports or the latest projections or something of that nature.<br /><br />And then a sort of haze had descended over me, as though his words had thrown a veil over my head. The veil is with me right now as he murmurs that I should spread my legs wider, wider. He wants to see just how wet I am, just how bad I’ve been, before he progresses to anything further.<br /><br />And oh God, how I’m longing for anything further. Use the award, I think at him frantically, while my cheeks turn crimson and my body shudders over the idea. Force me to take your cock, I think at him, though somehow I know he never will.<br /><br />I’m not allowed.<br /><br />‘I see you’re very wet, Ms Harding,’ he says, then follows it with more disapproving words that I don’t want to hear. ‘Yes, very wet indeed. Would you care to explain to me how you got into such a disgusting state?’<br /><br />No, I would not care to explain. My entire body sizzles with embarrassment and I have to force my hands to remain flat. And yet I find my mouth opening and words that aren’t my own come out, as though I have a talk-string on my back and he just pulled it.<br /><br />‘I’ve been thinking about fucking,’ I say, which at least has the virtue of being honest, if not the virtue of being what I actually wanted to say.<br /><br />‘Fucking who?’ he asks, just as I knew he would. Only this time I find the wherewithal to lie. I have to find the wherewithal to lie. He always asks me this and I always answer the same way – with something that affirms him as the one who controls me – but this time, it’s not true.<br /><br />And I can’t possibly explain to him why it isn’t. I can’t. It’s more embarrassing than the long, slow throb between my legs.<br /><br />‘You,’ I say, and then I think of the new guy in the hallway, spilling his armful of papers everywhere. The way his shirt had been untucked at the back. The look on his face, like someone lost inside a maze created by a superior race that hates him.<br /><br />‘You thought about my cock inside you?’ he asks, and oh that delicious deliberation in his voice still gets me. I have to rub my stiff and aching nipples against the desk just to take the edge off – though I know he will punish me for it soon.<br /><br />Any transgression, he punishes me for it. Once, I rubbed the toe of my shoe over the back of my opposite ankle to scratch an itch there. And in return for this minor slip he had made me bend double and grasp that said same place while he paddled my ass with a ping-pong bat.<br /><br />To this day I have no idea where the ping-pong bat came from.<br /><br />‘Yes.’<br /><br />‘You think about it often?’<br /><br />‘All the time.’<br /><br />‘Describe how you imagine it would feel, sliding in.’<br /><br />God, why does he always have to make me describe? I’m terrible at it. I’m the worst.<br /><br />‘Mmmm, so good,’ I say, limply, and for my crimes I get a hard slap to the ass. Of course I do. I should have said solid or satisfying or what I’m really thinking: not as good as that new guy’s cock.<br /><br />The one I could practically see through his pathetic trousers, as he bent and stretched and reached for all his fallen papers, face red, everything about him so awkward and appalling. He should be taken out of his misery, he really should. He should be planted over a desk and made to see the error of his ways, just as I am now.<br /><br />And then maybe he’d beg like me too.<br /><br />‘Oh please, please just fill me with something. Please,’ I blurt out, but it’s the strangest thing. I don’t know if I’m saying it for Mr Woods, or for the other thoughts that are pushing their way through my addled mind.<br /><br />Thoughts such as: if it was the new guy behind me, would he fill me now? I don’t think I’d have to beg with him, but somehow that doesn’t seem like a negative. Instead, my body flushes with the thought of how eager he’d probably be – cock so stiff and swollen it’s almost touching his belly, pre-come welling at the tip like a promise of all the copious slickness he’s about to spill.<br /><br />And he’d spill it inside me. Of course he would. Two thrusts and he’d be done, cock spurting thickly in my waiting cunt, hands all sweaty on my hips and oh God maybe he’d moan too. He wouldn’t be like Mr Woods – silent, implacable, unmoveable. He’d actually say something as he touches me, and if he didn’t want to, if he couldn’t …<br /><br />I’d make him.<br /><br />The realisation shoves its way through me, as hard as those first words from Mr Woods did. I’d like to see your cunt now, Ms Harding, I think, and then hot on its heels:<br /><br />I’d like to see your cock now, new guy.<br /><br />Benjamin, I think his name is. Benjamin, I think, as Mr Woods rubs something too cold and unyielding against the slippery lips of my cunt. And then when I moan to feel it, and squirm against it, he eases it down, down until the smooth tip is rubbing against my swollen clit.<br /><br />I don’t mind admitting that I forget about Benjamin then. Hell, I forget my own name. Pleasure whites out all of my higher thought processes and leaves behind this: this shame-riddled, wriggling mess. This thing, that can only plead:<br /><br />‘Uhhhh, yes – more. More.’<br /><br />I try to angle my hips to catch whatever he’s using – the award, my mind screams, the award, even though I know it’s not – and get it inside me, but naturally he’s too good for that. He just pulls back further, until the thing is barely touching me at all. In fact, I’m sure I can only feel it because my clit is so sensitive, so ready for any little touch that stirring the air over its surface makes me liquid between my legs.<br /><br />Makes me moan, too loud and too long. Outside his doors, hundreds of people are working away, oblivious – but they won’t be oblivious if I carry on like this. If I buck and pant and tell him to just fuck me with it, fuck my cunt with it.<br /><br />‘Such a filthy mouth, Ms Harding,’ he says, and then he does something worse than all the rest of this nonsense combined.<br /><br />He slides the tip of whatever this is up, up, past my ready and waiting pussy to a place I’m completely not prepared for. I’m so not prepared for it that I lurch forward against the desk, and actually almost say something weak and pathetic, like:<br /><br />Please don’t. I’ve never had anything there before.<br /><br />Luckily, my perfectly perpendicular hands save me. The thought of that Ms at the start of my name saves me. The idea of Benjamin stumbling and fumbling and just being such a mess saves me.<br /><br />And I don’t break. I don’t say anything at all as he offers me one tiny, amused sort of sound. He never laughs, Mr Woods – of course he doesn’t – but sometimes I’m sure my struggles and my boundaries entertain him.<br /><br />And this is such a petty boundary to have. Who hasn’t had something in their ass? Yet the fact remains that I haven’t, and the more he pushes and twists and makes that amused sound, the harder I clench and flame red with mortification.<br /><br />I don’t know what’s worse, either – the fact that he’s doing this with something impossibly thick and still achingly cold, or that I can feel how slick its surface is. As though he didn’t just coat it in my liquid before he decided to rub it over my arse.<br /><br />He oiled it in advance, for this specific purpose. He knew he was going to penetrate me there before I even walked into this office, and no amount of my squirming and whimpering is going to change that.<br /><br />I just have to squeeze my eyes tight shut and let him ease it slowly in.<br /><br />And oh God he does, he does. He braces one hand on my tense ass cheek, and then twists this thick and slippery thing until my body starts to yield to it. The tight ring of muscle there clenches and tries to deny the intrusion, but then everything just seems to give and I feel it slide all the way in to the hilt.<br /><br />Worse than the hilt, in fact, because once the thing is lodged firmly inside me I can make out the press of his fingers where he’s gripping it at the base. Somehow it’s the most intimate touch he’s offered me since this whole thing began.<br /><br />‘I think I would like you to rub your clit as I fuck you. What do you think, Ms Harding?’<br /><br />I think nothing. I’m made of nothing. All I can feel or respond to is the slow slide of this fake cock as he pushes it in and out of my ass. As it stirs all of these little nerve-endings that I didn’t know existed, everything so glossy and slick that the feeling is almost unbearable.<br /><br />‘I think you’d like that. Now reach between your legs and find your clit.’<br /><br />I flop around for a moment, trying my best to do as I’m told. My arms feel rubbery and unresponsive, and with this fake cock working back and forth inside me it’s hard to lift my body to get at what he’s asking for.<br /><br />And it doesn’t get any easier when I finally reach my stiff little bud. Just skimming the pad of one finger over its tense surface is like a punch to the gut. It feels immense, and every touch of it burns too hotly, and then he actually makes a sound as he forces the thing into me and oh God I can’t take it, I can’t.<br /><br />I can accept something fucking my ass. I can take being bent over his desk. I can’t endure him grunting like that, as though maybe this whole thing affects him a little more than he usually lets on. Him grunting makes me imagine torrid, glorious things, like his cock all stiff and solid against the material of his impeccable trousers.<br /><br />And though I daren’t look to check, I can almost picture him stroking himself as he does this to me. One hand on his hard cock, one hand on the fake one he’s pumping in and out of my willing body, until finally he gives in and lets himself spurt all over –<br /><br />‘Oh fuck, Mr Woods,’ I moan, because everything is just too much. The heated pulse between my finger and my clit, the feel of the fake cock fucking into me, raggedly, the idea of him coming on my upturned ass … I can’t take it.<br /><br />Instead, I press down hard on my clit and let the first trembling waves ebb through me, pushing back against the pounding he’s now doling out until said waves become a great wash of pleasure.<br /><br />‘Yes, keep doing that, keep doing it, I’m coming – ohhhhh,’ I tell him, because by this point I’m beyond all good sense. I don’t know who I am or where I might be, and all I care about is the orgasm that’s shoving rudely through my body.<br /><br />And God, it goes on and on and on. By the time it’s finished I’m a wet, trembling mess on the desk. Perpendicular hands forgotten. Perfect clothes sweated through. Ass so sore I’ll barely be able to walk for the rest of the day.<br /><br />Though that’s not unusual, for our cold little relationship. At the very least I’m usually sitting on some red handprints in any afternoon meetings I then have – meetings that are actually going to start very soon.<br /><br />In fact, they’re going to start so soon that my real self comes back to me far quicker than usual, and I go to straighten before he’s given me permission. I try to stand, but before I can get anywhere near said position that tented hand is back on my ass. His metallic voice is back in my ear.<br /><br />‘Stay still, Ms Harding,’ he says, only he sounds different for just a second. That metallic tone peels away and reveals something rusted and old beneath, and then I actually feel it on my skin, just as I had imagined.<br /><br />A searing stripe of something slick. And then another. And another.<br /><br />Though that’s not the shocking thing. I mean, I’ve often imagined him losing some of his control. Sometimes I’ve hungered for it, with my hand between my legs and orgasm just one wretched inch away.<br /><br />But in all of these fantasies of him breaking, I’ll confess: I never imagined him moaning something heated. The Benjamins of this world moan heated things. They let themselves go and can’t control themselves – not people like Mr Woods."<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />8. And finally, the buy links! Hurrah!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/power-play/">http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/power-play/</a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Power-Play-ebook/dp/B006PW46NY/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332592458&sr=1-2">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Power-Play-ebook/dp/B006PW46NY/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332592458&sr=1-2</a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Power-Play-ebook/dp/B006PW46NY/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332285507&sr=1-2">http://www.amazon.com/Power-Play-ebook/dp/B006PW46NY/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332285507&sr=1-2</a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />P.S. WINNERS: As there were only two entrants for the Sheltered contest, I've decided just to give those two lovely people a copy. So Astahil and Jen, email me at charlotte_stein@hotmail.co.uk and I'll get your copy to you!Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-23542449988969074152012-03-22T06:47:00.003+00:002012-03-22T07:02:28.779+00:00Mischief: Justine ElyotSo my book with new imprint Mischief comes out today. But that's not what I'm going to talk about. Instead, I'm going to talk about another author who writes for Mischief, and her book that also releases today.<br /><br />Mainly because it's orsum. She's orsum. And I feel that some of the orsum backwash is rolling off her and sliding over me, purely by virtue of our dual release date. Hooray for dual release dates!<br /><br />Anyhoo - where was I? Ah yes. Justine Elyot. One of the best authors Black Lace ever had. Writer for Carina Press. Purveyor of tremendous, literary, beautiful, hot erotica.<br /><br />And if I haven't impressed you enough with how orsum Justine is, and how much you should run to the nearest ebook vendor and buy her latest novella, then let me regale you with a little tale that I've probably regaled you with before.<br /><br />I'm not friends with Justine Elyot cos I just met her one day on Twitter or summat and thought she was great. No no no. I'm friends with Justine Elyot because in one of the first Black Lack anthologies I was in there was another story, by a new name I didn't know. The story was electric, exciting, fresh. The voice was clear and cool and crisp. I had to know who this person was, and if she'd written anything else.<br /><br />So I searched her out. And to my delight, I discovered two things: that she had her own collection of shorts coming soon, and that she was orsum. And ever since then, she's been my rock. My writing friend. My partner in crime.<br /><br />But the purpose of this story is not to tell you how much of a rock Justine is. It's to tell you that I'm not promoing her novella because she's my friend. I'm doing it because I've always, and will always love her work.<br /><br />And if you want to love her work too, you can find her novella, Kinky, at these places:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Kinky-ebook/dp/B006PW46NO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332399332&sr=1-1">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Kinky-ebook/dp/B006PW46NO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332399332&sr=1-1</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kinky-ebook/dp/B006PW46NO/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332399287&sr=1-2">http://www.amazon.com/Kinky-ebook/dp/B006PW46NO/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332399287&sr=1-2</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/kinky/">http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/kinky/</a><br /><br />Still not convinced? Check the blurb:<br /><br />Kinky Cupcake is much more than a meeting place for like-minded BDSM enthusiasts – it's an all-purpose play space with dungeons, boudoirs and role-play rooms galore. So when Rosie and her new friend Dimitri blag their way in, they know they are going to have to convince everyone that they’re a genuine scene couple. This isn't easy, when you've known each other all of a few hours, but they give it their best shot. The pleasures of domination and submission are explored, one by one, until Rosie and Dimitri's faked dynamic becomes all too real. But how much of their emotional bond depends on their shared sensual experiences? And the truest test of their bond is whether they can be together outside Kinky Cupcake as well as inside its chambers.<br /><br /><br /><br />Hot right? What are you waiting for?<br /><br /><br /><br />P.S. You can find my novel, Power Play, at these places - if you're interested in checking it out!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Power-Play-ebook/dp/B006PW46NY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332398685&sr=1-1">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Power-Play-ebook/dp/B006PW46NY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332398685&sr=1-1</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Power-Play-ebook/dp/B006PW46NY/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332398759&sr=1-2">http://www.amazon.com/Power-Play-ebook/dp/B006PW46NY/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332398759&sr=1-2</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/power-play/">http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/power-play/</a><br /><br />I'll be doing a lot more talking about it in upcoming days, but you can find out more, see the blurb, read an excerpt and purchase by following those links.Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-91793035693934317422012-03-19T02:08:00.004+00:002012-03-19T02:20:25.920+00:00Win A Copy Of Sheltered!So a number of pretty exciting things have been happening. Namely: Sheltered is actually proving quite popular! A lot of people seem to be rating, reading and talking about it, to the point where I'm starting to poop my pants a bit. Have never really had people mentioning my book on Amazon before, or seen people having conversations about it on Goodreads. And even when the ratings are just average and the comments a little negative, there's still a lovely overall feeling that my book is being discussed and thought about.<br /><br />It's wonderful. And I haven't the faintest clue how it's happened. Sheltered's a dark book, and one that's quite personal for me. In all honesty, I thought people wouldn't like it. But I guess readers like a bit of raw angst and honest emotion, which is fantastic to know.<br /><br />As is the fact that I got a mention on Dear Author! Especially surprising and delightful because I kind of thought Jane from DA didn't like my writing, but she tweeted that she really enjoyed Sheltered, and then a little while later there was a post about deals and my book got a shout out as one you should buy as part of the ARE Ellora's Cave rebate!<br /><br />So all around, it's been a good writing week. A week I'm very grateful for. It's given me a much needed boost and made me believe again that I could actually make a go of this writing lark, so I'm very happy. And thankful, for all my readers out there!<br /><br />And in honour of this thanky-happiness, I'm giving away two copies of Sheltered! Just comment and I'll put your name in the hat, then at the end of the week I'll randomly draw two winners. Hurrah!Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-15298041778823590112012-03-09T11:26:00.005+00:002012-03-09T11:48:11.999+00:00My New Book: Sheltered<div>As I'm not going to be here when my book actually goes live at Ellora's Cave, I thought I'd schedule a blog post to announce it.</div><div><br /><br /> </div><div>So here it is! Sheltered:</div><div><br /><br /></div><div> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9qHEPags7NU/T1npjgmrk1I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/Wof2mLERVW4/s1600/sheltered_msr.jpg"><img style="width: 196px; height: 320px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717857998180422482" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9qHEPags7NU/T1npjgmrk1I/AAAAAAAAAwQ/Wof2mLERVW4/s320/sheltered_msr.jpg" /></a></div><div> </div><div><br /> </div><div>My angsty, steamy, totally dark tale of a girl trapped by her abusive Father, and the punk who comes to save her from this hell via lots of filthy sex!</div><div> <br /><br /></div><div>Here's the blurb:</div><div> <br /><br /></div><div>Evie has lived her entire life under her abusive father’s thumb. He controls everything. Where she goes to college, who she sees, what she does. But when she meets Van—a punk who shows her how different life could be—she realizes how much she’s been missing.<br /><br /><br />Van offers her excitement, protection, love…and most of all, sex—even if he’s at first reluctant to give her all the things she’s been craving. She wants to explore this new world of arousal and desire, but Van is only too aware of how fragile she is, how innocent…<br /><br />And how much is at stake, when their love is forbidden.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> <br /><br /></div><div>And you can find an excerpt (and buy the book) here:<br /></div><div> </div><br /><a href="http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9969-sheltered.aspx">http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9969-sheltered.aspx</a>Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-10857966043332646292012-03-06T14:50:00.010+00:002012-03-06T16:59:29.236+00:00Mancandy Tuesday: Silas Weir MitchellFor a start, just check out that name. It sounds like he's from a fantasy world where no one's allowed to be called something normal, like Frank or Bill. It sounds like he's a doctor from the nineteenth century who just invented the vibrator.<br /><br />And is now going to use that vibrator on me. I have hysteria, okay? I need curing with lots of orgasms, delivered by a guy who looks like this:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p3uYv2LwIFI/T1Y_FtBWqkI/AAAAAAAAAwA/zdM4u0MNFuE/s1600/this%2Bone.jpg"><img style="width: 320px; height: 153px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716826144210594370" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p3uYv2LwIFI/T1Y_FtBWqkI/AAAAAAAAAwA/zdM4u0MNFuE/s320/this%2Bone.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Because seriously, who wouldn't want to be cured with lots of orgasms, as given to them by this guy? Look at his face! He’s so hairy and manly. He’s the kind of hairy manliness that I shouldn’t actually experience, cos I’m not adult enough. His beard is the equivalent of a dinner party where everyone talks about political things, only with a savage wolf attack, later on.<br /><br />He’s the wolf.<br /><br />After all, that's what he plays on Grimm. And it's fitting, too, because in all my days I don't think I've ever seen anyone who looks more like they could be an actual werewolf, under their man skin. He's not even really wearing man skin! Look at those insane eyes! He barely needs the bad CGI and crappy make up the show regularly slops all over him, with those crazy things staring right out of his head.<br /><br />And that<em> hair</em>. I have to ask: does he brush it with a fistful of brambles? Can you even call that "bedhead", when you're not sure if he's ever seen the surface of said piece of furniture? I'm pretty sure he slept in a bin last night. Or a rain gutter. He slept inside a bin that fell into a rain gutter, and then got swept away to an enchanted forest where everyone has sex with everything all the time.<br /><br />Or at least, he did in my head.<br /><br />He does a lot of things, in my head - and all of them are excerbated by one other important factor:<br /><br />On the show, they make him wear a lot of cardigans. And as you all probably don't know by now because I haven't blogged in forever and you've all forgotten who I am*, I love nothing better than a raggedy, rugged man who's all covered hair...and has then been wrapped in some sort of twee knitwear.<br /><br />A sweater vest is best, but in a pinch, a cardigan will do. Or how about these sandy jackets he wears, with the leather patches on the elbows?<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ds64SRvfN2Y/T1Y8dfM9CDI/AAAAAAAAAv0/cKDmSABZna4/s1600/tumblr_lztof8PSRO1rqo6huo4_1280.jpg"><img style="width: 247px; height: 320px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716823254283126834" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ds64SRvfN2Y/T1Y8dfM9CDI/AAAAAAAAAv0/cKDmSABZna4/s320/tumblr_lztof8PSRO1rqo6huo4_1280.jpg" /></a><br /><br />They give the same air of a librarian and/or teacher who's secretly a werewolf underneath. Tear off the corduroy and the little glasses, and underneath you'll find something seething with strange lusts - or, as Joy from My Name Is Earl claimed in a episode featuring Mr Mitchell:<br /><br />A body that looks as though it's been made up of nothing but knees.<br /><br />Which I think sounds kind of orsum, to be honest. As is the thing his character says to Joy in an effort to seduce her, during that same episode:<br /><br />I'll wear that bag over my head like before, if you want.<br /><br />And though I've no idea why secret werewolfism or being a doctor in the nineteenth century excites me, I do at least know why this floats my boat. And I'm now going to reveal that boat floating, even if it exposes me as a total weirdo who should probably be shunned and ostracised for fear of upsetting normal people:<br /><br />It's because it means he doesn't really care about himself. His own sense of ego and vanity is subsumed by a) his clearly rampant desire for actual sex and b) the sexual needs of someone else.<br /><br />And let's face it: how often do you see THAT on primetime television? Especially from what is, essentially, a very attractive man. I mean, even if you can't see the attractiveness beneath the layers of rugged, raggedy beard and obvious bestiality (not to mention the questionable age, which could, realistically, be somewhere south of 898), you've got to accept:<br /><br />That's hot.<br /><br />No shut up, it totally is. And if you say otherwise, you're just a cardigan hater.<br /><br />Now ask yourself. Is that really what you want to be?<br /><br /><br /><br />P.S. Fancy reading my latest novella? It just so happens to feature werewolves. And apocalypses. And forbidden lust. Hooray! You can get it here:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9906-raw-heat.aspx">http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9906-raw-heat.aspx</a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />*It's me, Charlotte Stein! To further reacquaint yourself: I like long walks that don't actually take place in parks I can't be bothered to go to, holding hands for hours if by holding hands you actually mean rubbing rude bits together, and all that black stuff that comes after a sunset. I think it's called...night...time?Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-72371916865533555772012-02-05T21:51:00.002+00:002012-02-05T21:54:39.500+00:00MischiefAre you out there? Are you writing for the mysterious entity known as Mischief? Then come and say so we can all talk together. Mischiefers Unite! It's like the Thundercats, only with erotica writers. I hold aloft the sword of Thundera, and say the words:<br /><br />Thunder, thunder, thundercats...HOOOOOO!<br /><br />And then we all stop Mum-Ra from doing stuff, or whatever.<br /><br />Hooray!Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-49385239820176246522012-01-28T08:50:00.003+00:002012-01-28T08:56:07.459+00:00Winner!Sorry for taking so long to announce this one, guys. I've been busy, toiling away in a despair pit. But I'm here now, and I've mixed the name around in a hat (or in this case, an old ice-cream tub), and then for total fairness Husband drew the name out. He felt very important, as he announced the winner:<br /><br />Dee Carney!<br /><br />Hooray! Just email me at <a href="mailto:charlotte_stein@hotmail.co.uk">charlotte_stein@hotmail.co.uk</a> to claim your prize, Dee.<br /><br />And as ever, thank you everyone for entering and making me feel like I have fans.Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-65628912470062446572012-01-14T22:13:00.003+00:002012-01-14T22:27:21.016+00:00Hot Steamy Twin Menage!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qtmmbQs0cxI/TxH_S9ZTteI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/GI2e9CvFjQY/s1600/doubled_msr.jpg"><img style="width: 196px; height: 320px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697615704783828450" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qtmmbQs0cxI/TxH_S9ZTteI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/GI2e9CvFjQY/s320/doubled_msr.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Yep, that's right, my new book was released a few days ago! And it features some hunky twins, a lot of hot menage action, and of course one lucky girl. Sounds orsum, right? I know I had an orsum time writing it. In fact, I don't think any of my other books...ahem...<em>affected</em> me in quite the same way as this one did. And if you want to be affected, too, you can buy it here:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9858-doubled.aspx">http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9858-doubled.aspx</a><br /><br />(where you can also find a delicious excerpt)<br /><br />Or here, on the Kindle:<br /><br />US:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Doubled-ebook/dp/B006X0JUNO/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1326478833&sr=1-2">http://www.amazon.com/Doubled-ebook/dp/B006X0JUNO/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1326478833&sr=1-2</a><br /><br />UK:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Doubled-ebook/dp/B006X0JUNO/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1326579707&sr=1-2">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Doubled-ebook/dp/B006X0JUNO/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1326579707&sr=1-2</a><br /><br />And here's the blurb for it:<br /><br />Bobbi has been friends with the Hoffman twins for one long, glorious year. They’re sweet, funny and kind, but there’s a problem…they’re also hotness personified. Times two. And when they lure her into a kinky little game involving a blindfold and some rather unexpected fondling, she finds them much harder to resist than she’d imagined.<br /><br />It seems they want to be something other than just good friends. They want a hot, steamy ménage, and all Bobbi has to do is decide if she’s up to the challenge. One big, gorgeous guy is enough for her.<br /><br />Two might be more than she can handle…<br /><br /><br /><br />Hooray for hot twins doing loads of kinky things to a girl!<br /><br />Oh, and I am of course doing my usual competition. Just leave a comment, and I'll put your name into the hat. Then I'll pick a random winner to receive a copy of Doubled, on Friday. Hurrah!Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-3396113348901436442012-01-08T20:10:00.004+00:002012-01-08T20:26:38.447+00:00A Big Thing What HappenedOkay, so I don't think I've mentioned this actually on my blog, yet, which is a big oversight on my behalf, I know. Especially as it's probably one of the most exciting things to have happened to me to date in my writing career.<br /><br />I got an agent.<br /><br />No, no - really, I did. Don't go away laughing. I honestly got an agent - little tiny old me!<br /><br />And it happened in this really overwhelming way, too. I queried an agent cos I managed somehow to get this big contract, and I thought to myself: well. I'll probably hear back after Christmas. Undoubtedly this agent is very busy and likely on holiday, now, so there's no way I'm going to hear immediatly.<br /><br />And then two hours later, the phone rang. Yeah, you heard that right. THE PHONE RANG. Husband actually picked up and because there was a delay, he thought there was no one there. So I picked it up the second time and then heard this lovely American voice coming down the phone at me like a terrifying but wonderful dream of all the things my life could possibly be.<br /><br />The agent in question didn't offer representation immediatly. She asked me questions, and I probably answered them like a maniac. I tried to outline my career goals without sounding like some jackass who has a headset phone and a marketing dossier and says yar, instead of yes.<br /><br />And then she asked me to send her some material, and I did.<br /><br />And yet again I thought: well, I'll probably have to sit tight, now. She's a very busy lady. She needs time to mull my work.<br /><br />Only she got back to me about three days later, with an email that had the most beautiful words in the English language: "I'd be happy to offer you representation". Just like that! There weren't even any trumpets sounding from the heavens! I don't know what I did at this point. I think I fell back on my default position: I must have it wrong. She probably doesn't mean that. Find out more.<br /><br />So I did. I asked questions, with the help of the fabulous Katie Reus. And then a day later I signed the contract. It's done. I am now represented by Jill Marsal of the Marsal Lyons agency.<br /><br />And the big contract I needed help with? She looked it over within 24 hours, got it all sorted, negotiated things for me, and I sent it back within two days. So that's all done, too!<br /><br />MAN I had a good Christmas. Of course, now I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop...Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-56319649392267187922012-01-06T08:00:00.000+00:002012-01-06T08:00:01.751+00:00Heart of Flame<div>So guess what? Because of the magicalness of epublishers like Samhain and Ellora's Cave, we get to have loads more Janine Ashbless books than ever before! Oh, I remember the days when I had to wait a whole year for a new Janine Ashbless book, back when Black Lace was still around. But no longer!<br /><br />Behold, her new book from Samhain!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7pbg8BummGU/TwYxCZxvbAI/AAAAAAAAAus/CfN2mNZYs40/s1600/HeartOfFlame72LG.jpg"><img style="width: 214px; height: 320px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694292696205585410" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7pbg8BummGU/TwYxCZxvbAI/AAAAAAAAAus/CfN2mNZYs40/s320/HeartOfFlame72LG.jpg" /></a><br /><br />And she's here, on my little blog, as part of her blog tour for it! Hooray!<br /><br />Take it away, Janine:<br /><br />Hey Charlotte – it’s lovely to be here on your blog!<br /><br />I’m approaching the middle of a blog tour for my Arabian Nights e-novel Heart of Flame, and I’ve already gabbed so much my throat is sore. So I thought that what I’d do here is give you a recipe for a fantastic refreshing drink I’ve enjoyed supping in Damascus. It’s a crazy vivid green, it’s frothy… it’s:<br /><br /><font style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">La<font style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">y</font>moun</font> Bi-Na’ Na’<br /><br />(though no, there are no bananas involved)<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ktYi0ZCyUcU/TwYwZ3pSdII/AAAAAAAAAug/slc-C_A7_QU/s1600/laymoun.jpg"><img style="width: 262px; height: 320px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694291999848559746" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ktYi0ZCyUcU/TwYwZ3pSdII/AAAAAAAAAug/slc-C_A7_QU/s320/laymoun.jpg" /></a><br /><br />6 lemons<br />1 pint cold water<br />225g / ½ lb powdered/icing sugar<br />2 fistfuls of fresh mint leaves<br /><br />• Wash and slice two of the lemons and discard pips. Blitz them in a blender – yes, rind, pith and all.<br />• Add the juice of the other 4 lemons<br />• Add the water<br />• Blitz<br />• Add sugar to taste<br />• Add mint, blitz again until smooth. Drink fresh.<br />• Enjoy the sugar rush!<br /><br /><br />And if this is too sweet, then the other appropriate beverage for reading Arabian Nights stories to, is - of course - coffee. Take it strong, black and flavoured with cardamom. That’s how my heroine makes it :)<br /><br />Have fun!<br /><br />xxx<br />Janine Ashbless<br /><a href="http://www.janineashbless.blogspot.com">www.janineashbless.blogspot.com</a><br /><br /><br />Orsum, right? Fab books AND drinks!<br /><br />Here's the info for Heart of Flame, cos I know you want to run out and buy it immediately:<br /><br />And on the One-Thousand-and-Second night, Scheherazade told this story…<br /><br />By day, Taqla uses her forbidden sorcery to move freely about the city of Damascusin the guise of an old sage. Her true identity known only by her faithful servant woman, Taqla is content with the comfortable, if restrictive, life that keeps her safe from the control of any man. Until she lays eyes on a handsome merchant-traveler. Suddenly her magical disguise doesn’t rest so easily on her shoulders.<br /><br />When long-time widower, Rafiq, hears that the Amir’s beautiful daughter has been kidnapped by a scheming djinni—and that she will be given in marriage to her rescuer—he seeks the help of “Umar the Wise” to ensure he will be that man. Yet as he and the disguised Taqla set off, he senses that his prickly male companion is hiding something.<br /><br />In a moment of dire peril, all of Taqla’s secrets are stripped bare—her fears, her sorcery and, worst of all, her love for Rafiq. Yet the princess’s life hangs in the balance, and there is no running away or turning back. Even though passion may yet betray them all...<br /><br />Product Warning: Scary monsters and creepy ruins in the desert—check. Pagan gods that demand blood-sacrifices—double check. A handsome hero who looks good in a robe and even better out of it—oh yeah. Check, check and check. That’s worth a heroine dropping a veil or two.<br /><br />Heart of Flame sale link:<br /><a href="http://store.samhainpublishing.com/heart-flame-p-6571.html">http://store.samhainpublishing.com/heart-flame-p-6571.html</a><br /><br /><br />What are you waiting for??<br /><br /></div>Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-54389630783326591152011-12-20T23:42:00.005+00:002011-12-21T00:27:06.015+00:00Another Mancandy Christmas!Yep, it's that time of year again. A time of eating beetroot and ham together until your poop turns a funny colour. A time of watching so many sitcoms on the telly you start wondering why the funny things people say don't have a laugh track. A time of obsessively playing your DS until one hand goes weird and you genuinely fear that you've somehow induced temporary paralysis.<br /><br />But more than all of those things, it's also a time for <em>giving.</em> So for the two people who are still reading this blog, here are my gifts to you. Complete with badly drawn MS paint stockings:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8nVis8a_ytU/TvEl8e3eiVI/AAAAAAAAAtw/h4pt-lJ4Uqo/s1600/Xmas%2BArmie.PNG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 318px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8nVis8a_ytU/TvEl8e3eiVI/AAAAAAAAAtw/h4pt-lJ4Uqo/s320/Xmas%2BArmie.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688369525353777490" /></a><br /><br />Yeah, I don't know why his head's like that, either. He's perfectly acceptable in the flesh, I swear! Please don't try to exchange him at Marks and Spencers for a better model, with a non-pointy hairdo.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jJb_qbe081Y/TvEmDQwIPaI/AAAAAAAAAt8/Zvw8tPxoaFs/s1600/Xmas%2BRyan.PNG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jJb_qbe081Y/TvEmDQwIPaI/AAAAAAAAAt8/Zvw8tPxoaFs/s320/Xmas%2BRyan.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688369641823944098" /></a><br /><br />You know why he's smiling like that? Because he's popping out of a stocking, hooray! It's absolutely not because he's diddling himself just below the edge of that weirdly misshapen sock. I mean, seriously? Where would you put your toes in a sock like that? You'd have to have fookin' Barbie feet to manage those things. Yet oddly, you'd also need ankles the size of two Christmas hams.<br /><br />Also: I have no idea why these men's legs are so small in general. Hopefully it's just because those socks are really sweaty, and their lower bits shrivelled up like fingers in a bathtub.<br /><br />They'll pop right back into shape no problems, I swear.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xC7zJ-p1u9g/TvEmKQIAY7I/AAAAAAAAAuI/jULU5dErPIk/s1600/Xmas%2BFassbender.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 277px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xC7zJ-p1u9g/TvEmKQIAY7I/AAAAAAAAAuI/jULU5dErPIk/s320/Xmas%2BFassbender.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688369761914741682" /></a><br /><br />I don't know why Fassbender looks so pensive while inside his sock, here. He's the one I thought I'd do a rude joke with - you know, like, having a penis peep over the edge of the stocking top or summat. I dunno. Maybe he's just disappointed that his is the most normal sock. He wanted to shove his Barbie feet into that one of Ryan Gosling's, then get an Oscar nom next year for his work in the masterpiece "My Feet Are Really Little".<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEREjAZMPh0/TvEmRkpHmyI/AAAAAAAAAuU/pvuEtCmuOiI/s1600/Xmas%2BBrandon%2BRouth.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEREjAZMPh0/TvEmRkpHmyI/AAAAAAAAAuU/pvuEtCmuOiI/s320/Xmas%2BBrandon%2BRouth.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688369887681420066" /></a><br /><br />It's his knee, all right? His <em>knee</em>. Don't look at me like that. I'd never give away peeping penises for Christmas!<br /><br />Except I totally would, of course.<br /><br />Merry Christmas, everybody!Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-43591833347483067892011-12-04T13:57:00.004+00:002011-12-04T21:10:25.174+00:00HOMG Has It Been This Long?<div>I'm so sorry, blog. I've neglected you for days and days - months even! I don't even know what's been happening. I can't imagine what's kept me away from your loving arms for such an outrageous period of time. Apart from, you know. THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWO THOUSAND WORDS I WROTE IN NOVEMBER.<br /><br />Yeah. You heard that right. Apparently I turned into a maniac for about a month. I turned into so much of a maniac that I actually did things like wonder why I was so drained and miserable so much of the time, and couldn't understand how I spent days and days wearing only a big orange dress and not washing my hair. One time I woke up half-naked on the couch, covered in cardigans, because I had mysteriously passed out and in an effort to shield my nudity from passer-bys, Husband had buried me beneath Marks and Spencers' winter collection.<br /><br />But now I realise why all of these things happened, because I counted how much I wrote. And then wondered how I even managed to put on the big orange dress and not expose myself to the general public on a daily basis. I'm not even sure how I didn't faint from exhaustion, because here are the things wot I did:<br /><br />1. 20k novella for Xcite. Written, edited, submitted and copy-edited.<br /><br />2. 50k of novel for super sekrit speshul thing.<br /><br />3. 20k of novel cut and rewritten.<br /><br />4. 2 shorts written and edited and subbed. 10k.<br /><br />5. 2k of novellas for Ellora's Cave.<br /><br />6. Revisions on Ellora's Cave novella<br /><br />7. Oh, and about 10k of blog posts written for places that aren't here. Please don't beat me up, blog. I'm already pretty battered. I think I'm on the edge of a nervous breakdown because yesterday I cried over an episode of Friends. I cried because my work email wouldn't let me in, even though no one ever sends me emails cos I only work there one night a week. I cried because I found Spogs at a sweetie shop, and I cried when my novel wouldn't go right. I'm probably going to cry right after I've finished writing this, because I've got about 10k left of my novel and I know it's not going to go right either.<br /><br />I'm so scared, blog, hold me!<br /><br />Though in better news, I did get two beautiful new covers for my upcoming EC books. They're on the sidebar, if you want to have a look!<br /><br />And I also got some pretty amazing reviews:<br /><br /><a href="http://amberskye.net/2011/11/10/wherein-i-rave-about-a-book-and-rant-about-erotica/">http://amberskye.net/2011/11/10/wherein-i-rave-about-a-book-and-rant-about-erotica/</a></div><div><br /><br /><a href="http://www.nightowlreviews.com/nor/Reviews/Erona-Diane-Hill-reviews-Control-by-Charlotte-Stein.aspx">http://www.nightowlreviews.com/nor/Reviews/Erona-Diane-Hill-reviews-Control-by-Charlotte-Stein.aspx</a></div><div><br /><br /><a href="http://www.nightowlerotica.com/nor/reviews/Erona-Diane-Hill-reviews-Reawakening-by-Charlotte-Stein.aspx">http://www.nightowlerotica.com/nor/reviews/Erona-Diane-Hill-reviews-Reawakening-by-Charlotte-Stein.aspx</a></div><div><br /><br /><a href="http://www.nightowlerotica.com/nor/reviews/Erona-Diane-Hill-reviews-The-Horizon-by-Charlotte-Stein.aspx">http://www.nightowlerotica.com/nor/reviews/Erona-Diane-Hill-reviews-The-Horizon-by-Charlotte-Stein.aspx</a></div><div><br /><br /><a href="http://thebookbinge.com/2011/11/guest-review-telling-tales-by-charlotte.html">http://thebookbinge.com/2011/11/guest-review-telling-tales-by-charlotte.html</a></div><div><br /><br /><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/198669308">http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/198669308</a></div><div><br /><br />Yep, you read that right. Three top picks from Night Owl, an absolutely beautiful and intelligent and lovely review from the brilliant Amber Skye, an actual review from Book Binge - my first ever! - and a review from the mighty Jan Oda which made me feel all nervous and fluttery cos it's kind of like someone that important and ace at reviews sort of...I dunno. Knows about me and pays attention to my books. The review isn't completely positive, but those comments about my books being her erotica indulgence...<br /><br />That kind of thing blows me away.<br /><br />So there you have it. That was November. I've still got a deadline on December 15th coming up, and after that I have to start this merry-go-round all over again. New deadline for January 31st...</div><div> </div><div>Think it's time I got myself a new big writing dress. Maybe I'll go with green, this time!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-20740593346326951232011-10-15T01:07:00.004+01:002011-10-15T19:02:43.632+01:00Some Stuff What I Have Done<div>So, I've just subbed three novellas. I'm alternating between feeling good about them, feeling terrible about them, and having dreams that feature some weird guy wanting to buy them because they're about a character called Aleph.<br /><br />Just for the record, they're not. Nowhere in any of them is there an Aleph. But you can find out a bit about two of them - Sheltered and Doubled - over at Oh Get A Grip. I posted actually snippets from them, which is a big scary thing for me. Behold:<br /><br /><a href="http://ohgetagrip.blogspot.com/2011/10/stupidly-timed-eye-problems.html">http://ohgetagrip.blogspot.com/2011/10/stupidly-timed-eye-problems.html</a><br /><br />The third one on there, Love Letters, isn't quite done yet. The third sub I sent my editor was actually Singing Electricity, my werewolf thingie that I've had on my uhm and ah burner for a while now.<br /><br />Because that's the thing, you see. I uhm and ah about a WIP, and then it never gets done. I second guess it - will readers like this bit, will they like that, am I just a giant idiot - and nothing moves forward.<br /><br />Even now I'm second guessing myself over a whole host of things like:<br /><br />1. What if the disaster I had with awful synopses means the stink of terribleness is now all over my stories?<br /><br />2. What if my sales at EC are so bad for my latest book, that it can't possibly be a yes on any of my subs anyway?<br /><br />3. What if the stories are just plain terrible?<br /><br />4. What if it's all of the above, plus even more awful things I haven't thought of? Maybe I accidentally subbed that fanfic I wrote about Armie Hammer and Brandon Routh having sex all over me, even though I've never actually written anything like that I swear to God. I mean, the heroes in Love Letters kind of look like Armie Hammer and Brandon Routh, but I promise I've changed their names and given them personalities I thought up.<br /><br />Now they're called Artie Bammer and Brendon South, and they're...uh...singers. Yeah. Singers.*<br /><br />But I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah, back in boring old neurosis-land. Because it is boring. I know I'm boring people with it. But once you're stuck in it, it's so hard to get out of.<br /><br />Though I did momentarily get out of it long enough to write about Sci-fi hunks. Hooray!<br /><br /><a href="http://geekandkink.com/2011/10/the-new-era-of-tit-arms/">http://geekandkink.com/2011/10/the-new-era-of-tit-arms/</a><br /><br />And also, All Other Things is now available on the Kindle and over at All Romance Ebooks:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/All-Other-Things-ebook/dp/B005OYI2O8/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1318638351&sr=1-3">http://www.amazon.com/All-Other-Things-ebook/dp/B005OYI2O8/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1318638351&sr=1-3</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-allotherthings-605721-144.html">http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-allotherthings-605721-144.html</a><br /><br />Double hooray!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />*For those of you who may now be worried about my writing career, the characters are not really called Artie Bammer and Brendon South, and they're not singers, either. It's a passing resemblance, and nothing else, honest guv'nor.</div>Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-63744348341135070382011-10-05T06:18:00.002+01:002011-10-05T06:18:00.387+01:00Mancandy Wednesday: Ryan Gosling<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VQy5d7JE5gg/ToueoND7sMI/AAAAAAAAAso/Mw2_9qHogwk/s1600/tumblr_lrlisi5XfO1qk4kumo1_500.png"><img style="WIDTH: 273px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659791770259271874" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VQy5d7JE5gg/ToueoND7sMI/AAAAAAAAAso/Mw2_9qHogwk/s320/tumblr_lrlisi5XfO1qk4kumo1_500.png" /></a><br /><br /><div>Okay, I won't deny it. The reason I like Ryan Gosling is almost entirely to do with his approach to sex scenes. Which is probably some method actor intense Stanislovsky thing where he immerses himself in a vagina for a year just to get it right, I know. But that's not how it comes across. To me, his sex scenes - even the tame PG-13 ones - come across like he's literally trying to kill the actress in question with sex.</div><br /><br /><div>And when I say literally, I mean literally. None of this half-assed figuratively bullshit. He's got laserbeams in his eyes and his cock is probably made out of Mount Doom, and he's attempting actual destruction of whoever he's in the scene with. He won't be satisfied until they're reduced to molten lava, by the sheer force of his intense raging passion. </div><br /><br /><div>Members of the camera crew were actually injured while filming his sex scenes in Blue Valentine, when Michelle Williams exploded. Swear to God. Rachel McAdams isn't actually alive anymore - they just cloned her out of the ash he reduced her to and what you're really looking at when you watch Morning Glory is something made out of a sheep and some leftover Molly Ringwald.</div><br /><br /><div>All of which suggests that I shouldn't really love Ryan Gosling. I mean, he's a lethal weapon. My vagina starts threatening meltdown just watching him through a TV screen - so Lord knows what volcanic pressures these poor actresses are under.</div><br /><br /><div>And it's not just his ability to telepathically control my nethers through the TV, like Sadako from Ring only orsum. There are a lot of very fierce things about Ryan Gosling that should probably frighten me.</div><br /><br /><div>Even though they totally don't. They don't. In fact, nothing about Ryan Gosling frightens me, and I think that's probably because he once played the sweetest, most innocent person to ever be in love with a sex doll.</div><br /><br /><div>I don't even know how that's possible, frankly. I saw that sex doll documentary, okay? I'm an erotic writer, and even I found them a little much to take. But not only is Ryan utterly orsum in Lars and the Real Girl, not only does he make it seem lovely to be in love with a sex doll, he's also still completely and massively sexy.</div><br /><br /><div>In fact, I think he's actually sexier than normal, in Lars. I desire his moustache, in it. I love his hair. I want to live in the cold with him, wrapped up in the million coats he probably has. Doesn't that sound like bliss? To be wrapped up in coats, with an intense but utterly sweet and innocent Ryan Gosling?</div><br /><br /><div>I think it does. And hey, if one day I managed to gently coax the volcano out of him and he ended up turning me to molten lava...well, that's okay.</div><br /><br /><div>I'd love him anyway. </div>Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-74036415320571983432011-10-03T08:09:00.003+01:002011-10-04T01:29:31.322+01:00More Winners!Drumroll please!<br /><br />The first name out of the hat to win a copy of All Other Things was...<br /><br />Lynn!<br /><br />And the second name...<br /><br />Sommer!<br /><br />Hooray!<br /><br />Just email me at <a href="mailto:charlotte_stein@hotmail.co.uk">charlotte_stein@hotmail.co.uk</a> guys, and I'll get those sent to you. Thanks once again to everyone who stopped by my little blog and entered. It really does me feel all warm and gooey inside.<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />Charlotte xx<br /><br />P.S. All Other Things is now available on the Kindle! Look, here it is: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/All-Other-Things-ebook/dp/B005OYI2O8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1317688139&sr=1-1">http://www.amazon.com/All-Other-Things-ebook/dp/B005OYI2O8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1317688139&sr=1-1</a>Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-15738010655660270172011-09-22T00:37:00.004+01:002011-09-23T15:41:41.158+01:00Hot Menage FunYeah, that's right. Because there can never be enough hot menage fun going on in the world, I have another book release this week. It's called All Other Things, and it features - you've guessed it - lots of multiple partner shenanigans.<br /><br />Plus it's also got a married couple, an absolutely filthy Irishman, sex acts that are illegal in many, many places around the world and a good dollop of emotion thrown into the mix. Want to hear more?<br /><br />Here's the blurb:<br /><br />Bea’s husband Tommy is the sweetest, most gorgeous guy she’s ever met. There’s just one problem—he doesn’t seem to want to have sex with her. Or at least, he shows no interest in the kind of sex she’s craving. Kinky, torrid, passion-filled sex, of the sort a too-handsome and too-fascinating colleague at her workplace is offering.<br /><br />Kieran is everything that Tommy’s not—dark to his light, triple caramel swirl to Tommy’s vanilla. But Bea will not be tempted. Or at least, she thinks she won’t. Until she discovers Tommy and Kieran have been IMing each other for some time—and they haven’t been talking about innocent things.<br /><br />They’ve been talking about her, and more importantly, they’ve been talking about what they’d like to do to her. Together. And once Tommy’s buttons have been pushed and Kieran’s been let off his leash, anything seems possible…<br /><br />Sounds hot, right? Well, I think it sounds hot. And I kind of had to lay down in a darkened room for a little bit after writing several of its scenes, which says a lot, I feel.<br /><br />And if you want to feel it too, well, here's the buy link:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9586-all-other-things.aspx">http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9586-all-other-things.aspx</a><br /><br />Or you know - if you're feeling lucky you could just enter my competition! All you have to do is comment, leave your name, and I'll stick it in the hat. I'm going to give away two copies, too, so there's an absolutely excellent chance you'll win!<br /><br />Hooray!Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-86248221671856779882011-09-20T06:48:00.002+01:002011-09-20T06:48:00.452+01:00Guest Post: Roped Emotions by Elise HepnerMy pal Elise had a release last week, so here's a little bit about it and its total amazeballsness. Who doesn't love a good fairytale, eh?<br /><br /><br /><br />Blurb:<br /><br />Rapunzel is trapped by the harsh, inescapable reality of her prison, so she builds vivid sexual fantasies where she has full control and no one can take it away. If nothing else, at least she has command over her thoughts.<br /><br /><br />When Prince Samuel climbs into her tower it’s a small, satisfying excuse to break the rules—until his gentle touch coaxes out her trust. But it’s not enough. No longer can she keep her dark, sexual secrets inside. Rapunzel yearns for rough, passionate sex—a way to unlock her sensual freedom for good.<br /><br /><br />Vulnerable but unable to turn back, Rapunzel leads Prince Samuel on an intimate journey to define their sexual limits while twisting their definitions of control forever.<br /><br /><br />Excerpt:<br /><br />“What in Christ’s name…”<br /><br />I must be hearing echoes from the town nearby, where Mother sells her herbs and braided goods. No one ventures this far toward my tower because Mother’s gone to great lengths to see that they don’t—bear traps are her new favorite method of discouragement. Once one life is claimed, I imagine word spreads fairly quickly to stay away from the area. Why then are there hoof beats that make my head pulse with a slight pain?<br /><br />There’s no understandable excuse I can delude myself with any longer. Before I can focus on the consequences, I swing my head out the window into the oppressive, humid summer air. Just the very top of his head is visible, his hair brushing past his cheekbones, glowing from the sunshine and shot through with gold. Never have I seen a color so close to my own before—not that I see many people.<br /><br />For a few moments I can’t quite come to terms with his presence and it’s not for a lack of staring that my pulse inevitably echoes inside my head like an overbeaten drum. This is my chance. Mother won’t be back for quite some time with her wares. He’s circling the tower, slouched over a horse who looks a bit like a nag. Certainly not a proper horse for a man with such fine clothes in gorgeous colors and sumptuous fabrics.<br /><br />There’s no going back from this moment. It’s a certainty that makes my teeth chatter in a wash of cold fear, despite the heat, and my hands clasp around my middle as I try to hold myself together. He hasn’t looked up yet, more intent on studying the free-standing structure than noticing my shadow plastered across the grass. My mind is desperately working out what I’ll cry out to him. Even as my throat closes with an infusion of happiness that makes me rock on my feet.<br /><br />“Excuse me?” A tentative question I’m not sure he will hear because it can’t be any louder than a frightened whisper. “Sir, you’re really not supposed to be here.”<br /><br />Somehow, I’ve managed to make this part louder because he glances up—and his slack-jawed expression is a blow to my chest. He possesses the most gorgeous cobalt blue eyes. Underneath my ribs, the pain grows until taking a full breath is hard. Mother is right, he hasn’t even overcome his shock as my heavy plait of hair rests down the stone side of my prison. He’s not to be trusted.<br /><br />What am I thinking? He won’t even come near me to aid my escape and his eyes are swamped in confusion—and there’s a flash of unreadable emotion that I refuse to question. He must leave here now and I must somehow convince him to bring no one back with him. I won’t be paraded around for anyone’s amusement. This man has made a mistake coming here.<br /><br />Yet, there’s still a part of me that grips the windowsill until my palms are numb and that clings to the hope that he will at least acknowledge me. So long since I’ve had any kind of normal conversation. One that didn’t revolve around my hair, my rules or my mother’s day. Won’t he say anything? I’m as trapped by his thick silence as I am by the beauty of his face.<br /><br />“Please, you must go and tell no one about what you’ve seen. You shouldn’t have ignored the traps. They are there for a reason.”<br /><br />I don’t know how I’ve gotten that all out because my main focus lies on the foreign stirrings of heat in my cheeks as the pulsing sensation twists lower in my abdomen. What is happening to me? With a certainty that surprises me, I find myself clenching my thighs together, only to have the subtle touch of flesh-on-flesh be more than I can bear. He has yet to take his gaze from mine and a shudder slips up my spine.<br /><br />“How long have you been here?” His voice carries the strain I hold back and I’m slightly put at ease that at least we are on similar ground. “Who did this to you?”<br /><br />“For a man who is about to leave, I don’t believe it matters.”<br /><br />The words barely tumble out of my mouth before I clamp my hand over my lips. I hadn’t meant to be so harsh and instantly regret it. He is so handsome—and these sudden urges, they are overwhelming and confusing to the point where I wish to completely remove the problem. My lips part in an apology and I watch a jovial grin span from ear to ear as he laughs at me until I can’t hear anything but the frantic beat of my heart.<br /><br />Who is this man? Now he stares at me with a playfulness that washes a wave of goose bumps across my flesh. He doesn’t seem offended, merely amused at my suggestion that he leave. To further that fact, he quickly dismounts and ties his horse to a nearby tree branch. While I can only stare at the way his tight riding boots and breeches hug his muscular body from his calves all the way up to his perfectly rounded buttocks.<br /><br />Though I’d learned of desire from my mother—and all its wicked principles—I never expected it to rear its head in my lonely, simple world.<br /><br />However, now my life spirals out of control quickly enough that I tilt back against the wall to my left and watch with trembling hands. This mysterious man climbs the wall of my tower as if it had been built to be climbed so easily—without any aid from my hair. One strong, sun-kissed hand and booted foot at a time. When he offers up his hand to me to pull him over the side, what choice do I have? Even a man that strong would eventually grow tired and plummet to his death—and I want him tucked close to my body, not on the ground.<br /><br />“I was beginning to wonder what it took to get some assistance.”<br /><br />He softly grunts and clasps my hand hard enough that I gasp as I shift my weight to pull him over the side. Muscles I didn’t know existed inside me burn with sharp pain from disuse because of my isolation. His touch radiates heat all along my arm. If it wasn’t for his precarious situation, I would fight to pull away on instinct—but as it is, he manages to throw himself into my home with as much grace as a charging boar—and he trips, falling on top of me and sending us to the hard, stone floor.<br /><br />His surprisingly soft hand brushes the hair out of my face and lingers, gently stroking, down my cheek. Should I be frightened? Probably. At the moment I can’t bear the thought that my first sincerely gentle touch from a man would be anything but special. His sharp leather scent surrounds my tingling skin.<br /><br />“Isn’t this a day for surprises?” His gaze cuts through all the fear inside me and his mouth holds the subtle curve of a half smile. “I should move myself off you, this isn’t proper at all when we’ve barely been introduced.”<br /><br />Yet he doesn’t move an inch.<br /><br />A realization whips through my mind and would have left me on the floor if I wasn’t already pinned there by a gorgeous man who touches me with such reverence I might weep. When will this happen again? After this twisted, meandering path of fate, there is no doubt I will be alone again—and I want a loving memory to cling to at night when my old fears tighten my chest until I can’t breathe. This is a choice I can make for myself. And I won’t live the rest of my ordinary, sheltered life not knowing true passion when it burns across my skin.<br /><br />“They call me Rapunzel.”<br /><br />“Samuel.”<br /><br />His inviting smile lights up my whole world.<br /><br />Buy Links:<br /><a href="http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9567-roped-emotions.aspx">http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9567-roped-emotions.aspx</a><br /><br />Author Links:<br /><a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Elise-Hepner-Writing/311925106401">http://www.facebook.com/pages/Elise-Hepner-Writing/311925106401</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.twitter.com/EHepner">www.twitter.com/EHepner</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.ehwriting.com/">www.ehwriting.com</a>Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330288412957477786.post-90733572133938006432011-09-18T08:05:00.001+01:002011-09-18T21:05:54.682+01:00Winners!First of all, I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who entered! I've never had so many people take part in one of these competitions, and even though it's probably weird and sad I was really touched. Plus, the compliments made me blush for about a week.<br /><br />So, before I embarrass myself further with anymore gushing, here are the names I drew out of the hat:<br /><br />Barednakedlady (aka Jill)<br /><br />and<br /><br />Evita<br /><br />Hooray! Just decide which book you'd like, ladies (either Telling Tales or Guarded, take your pick!), then email me at <a href="mailto:charlotte_stein@hotmail.co.uk">charlotte_stein@hotmail.co.uk</a> and I'll get it sent to you.<br /><br />Also, I decided to do an extra prize. Mainly because "eyebrow-singing" is perhaps the greatest way I've ever heard my work described, but also because I just feel like it. So Astahil - if you'd like a copy of either Telling Tales or Guarded, just email me at <a href="mailto:charlotte_stein@hotmail.co.uk">charlotte_stein@hotmail.co.uk</a> and I'll send you one. For being orsum and having burnt eyebrows.Charlotte Stein aka The Mighty Viperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13938045078503792108noreply@blogger.com1