I need a Nip/Tuck for this sickness

Been down in the dumps with the epic crud going around here and there hasn't been much brain power to write, so I've been indulging in a marathon of Nip/Tuck, which I've never seen before, and I can't decide whether I love it because it's so screwed up or whether it's so screwed up that I love it. But I just can't look away--maybe it's the cold meds. But between the Nyquil and the naked Christian Troy ass, I'm one doped up, happy woman.

Hopefully, I'll be back in the saddle with my writing soon.

Big Cocks Blog Hop Winner

Big Cocks and Shamrocks Blog Hop has been over for a bit now and I've got a winner to announce: *cue drumroll*  Congratulations, Sheri Vidal! The winner was chosen at random by a random number generator. I'll be in touch soon, Sheri, and thank you everyone who put in their two cents on embarrassing experiences! Reading them made me feel a little less embarrassed about my own!

Big Cocks and Shamrocks Blog Hop

Today while I'm sitting down to a dinner of corn beef and cabbage with my husband's family celebrating the holiday with some very loud, very fun people---I get to talk about cock on my blog. Oooo, what to say? Well, first things first, if a cock is green I'm pretty sure that's bad and either signals that the guy has a BAD STD (is there any other kind?) or he got a little wacky with the food coloring. And either way no one wants to get near that--at least I don't. I mean I embrace some kinky wonderfulness, but I think green takes the cake.

In lieu of green cocks, what are some of the worst or most embarrassing sexual experiences you've had? Share the filth and you'll enter to win any book from my backlist, format of your choice. I could tell you my worst experience, but I'm pretty sure you ladies and gents want me to keep some mystery in our relationship, right? Or am I wrong? Comment away!

Bumper Cars

I'm blogging over at Silken Sheets about the changing writing climate and how best to adapt to it. Go check it out!

Crawling Through Temptation

Today Lucy Felthouse reviewed my short story in Sudden Sex edited by Alison Tyler for Cleis Press and Lucy had this to say about my weird, kinky little story:

"Lela and Max are celebrating their one year anniversary by going caving – an idea many would find bizarre, but given the hobby was how they met, it’s the perfect way to celebrate. Crawling through narrow tunnels and caves, it’s difficult to see how the story is going to become erotic, but it soon becomes apparent as the tiny space opens out, and the couple indulge in something else they enjoy – one another.

Brief, but intensely sexy, this is a quirky and exciting tale from Elise Hepner."

Yippee skippie, thanks so much Lucy for taking the time to write about my short! Oddly enough, this short-short was a challenge put to me by my husband, who told me in no way could I make spelunking sexy. Not only did I prove him wrong, but it got published in one of my most beloved erotica writer's and editor's books, Alison Tyler. Such an awesome accomplishment! And my first story in one of her books, though I used to write weekly for her short-short contests on her blog in 2008-2009.

TRR 2nd Anniversary Party Game

Blurb:

One mistake can change a life—let alone an eternity.

Tisiphone’s a revenge demon working for Hades in the Underworld torturing damned souls. When she escapes for three days under the sun with a human male, her leash is pulled tight. Tisiphone’s banished from the Underworld to Earth and stripped of her demonic powers. But that’s not what drives her horrendous nightmares.

Cithaeron’s human life was dedicated to revenge, until a demon walked into it. The wickedly intense, sensually destructive Tisiphone takes over his life with probing questions and haunting caresses. It’s over in a blink. After centuries of torture in Limbo, Hades brings him back for a judgment call that could change their intertwined lives—dead or alive.

Their future is in their past. Their lust can burn each other to the ground. But they’ve got to learn to work together or they’ll both go to Hell for good.

Excerpt:

After my rousing, nine o’clock session with my weekly regular was over it was time for a little rest and relaxation in the dungeon’s staff sauna. A little steam cleansing was all I needed when I was stressed. The heat reminded me of home, comforting, claustrophobic, and perhaps it would wash away the sins that haunted me all day. Despite my fatigue, it was hard to forgive myself for devoting only ninety-five percent to my client. Without a doubt, I was better than that. 

And yet everything ached.

I removed my long leather gloves with one hand and massaged my temples. Beneath my heels the tan carpet gave as I sashayed past rows upon rows of wooden doors. Every room entered into a playground. Different fantasies that my boss was always updating for our bevy of clients in order to cater to everyone’s individual needs. My gaze skittered across the deep mauve walls and antique, turn of the century light fixtures. Unable to alight on any concrete thought, I raked my aching fingers through my tight, black barrel curls, and my breath came out in a solid whoosh of sound.

“What I wouldn’t give for a chocolate bunny,” I mused aloud before punching the elevator button to open the black steel doors.

One of the oddest human habits—the devouring of molded, carved candy items shaped like real living animals—was one of my greatest stress relievers. Simply snapping my teeth into something sweet was so much simpler than having to deal with layers of Underworld bullshit. While internalizing my guilt for taking out my helpless rage on a damaged soul whose back story I wasn’t privy too no matter how much I pried. For that odd, once a year holiday, I was incredibly thankful. Who knew how many mortal’s feelings had been spared from my tongue lashing because of my stash of sweets? 

Certainly not a small number.

Tonight was no different from any other day as I barely breathed through my constraining leather corset and I counted the floor numbers as they went up, clenching and unclenching my fists. I couldn’t shake the niggling pain behind my eyes or the vulnerable sensation of being stalked. Two issues that were becoming progressively worse over the past few months whenever I was reminded of the thin ice I walked every second of every day. 

Headaches and paranoia. 

I was the only one in the elevator—but that hardly made me safe? Lifetimes of experience dictated that anyone with half a mind to catch me unaware could come through the emergency shaft at the top of any elevator and attack me from above.

Not a simple task—but nonetheless an all too possible one. And I may have been careful with my identity, but mortal mistakes happen. I’d only expected Hades to be lenient with my life once, before it was considered special treatment. My exile was only as permanent as he wished it before he wanted my head far more. 

Every muscle in my body sung with stiffness. Not even rolling my shoulders would make it any better, because if there was someone watching me. They would know I knew the second I made any nervous gesture. Comfort wasn’t a luxury I was willing to risk. I may have been alone in the elevator, but there were always ways of watching—cameras.

The little bell dinged as the doors pulled open and I walked down the plain white corridor toward the locker room. Everything down below the main dungeon was sterile. Like any other faculty room in the world, save for the commonplace motivational posters. There was nothing of the opulence upstairs. Frankly, the crisp, clean was a refreshing change of pace after indulging men for fourteen hours on the clock. At least my thoughts could quiet.

Or, on any normal day they could—for the past week, it had been different. More paranoia. Careful inspection of every new client. Personal background checks conducted in my Manhattan high-rise, loft apartment in the middle of the night, when I couldn’t sleep, curled up behind old quilts on my ancient sofa recliner. I knew something was different—I didn’t know what or why.

Even while I was headed to a sauna to hide my nudity behind a towel and sit in a room full of windows where I couldn’t see out—but anyone could see inside—the quick strides of my feet still lent me a sense of calm normalcy. I followed a routine, what I did at the end of every day, at the end of all my sessions. I wouldn’t concede little pleasures. They wouldn’t be allowed to have the upper hand—even if that meant I had to fight them naked. Simply because I was no longer a demon, didn’t mean I’d allowed my self-defense to slip.

With a thin, reedy inhale I pushed the door open into the locker room and made quick work of stripping off my costume. I had nothing against corsets or seamed stockings—far from it. But sometimes it was nice to leave myself bare, without having to worry about pleasing anyone but myself. Everything was shoved in a laundry basket in the corner for the maids to take care of tonight. With reverent thanks that I didn’t have to take care of my own laundry at a time like this, I secured my towel, and found my way into the hot, muggy depths of the sauna.

The minute I stepped inside it was hazy, foggy bliss. Heat sipped at my skin as I walked up the wooden stadium style steps and took a seat where I could watch over everything through the glass windows. But I didn’t dare close my eyes. Instead, I forcibly melted my whole back against the steps and tried to gain some kind of peace with a slow inhale. Because it was a special time of year—an anniversary of sorts—my senses were on hyper drive. I missed my supernaturally keen senses and immortality.

Hades could revoke immortality in any demon on a whim. Much like he did when he exiled me to Earth over four centuries ago and stripped me of my demon nature. My awareness of my vulnerability couldn’t be any more acute. With a smooth roll of my shoulders and a shallow breath, I knew the stress relief I needed wasn’t going to happen. Though the place was the most similar to my old home—there was no denying the inevitable truth.

Home didn’t exist for me anymore.

My arms went numb from my white knuckled grip on the wooden edge of my seat. With a swift shake of my head I tried to push the thoughts away. Perhaps it was too soon to think I’d rationalized myself out of thinking of my past mistakes. Whatever the reason, my skull seared until I shut my eyes out of sheer pain. Zeus’s balls, what a stupid, limiting body I carried around with me.

With a frown, I snapped my eyes open—and jerked back with a soft gasp that left my muscles as tensed as if I’d been put to the rack. Was that the door opening? A slash of pain through my temples nearly doubled me over. This wasn’t my imagination. Not a pain laced vision. Behind the steam slick glass walls, a shadow played across the locker room. I couldn’t suppress my basic functions as a human and my heart barreled forward in my chest. Adrenaline licked up my limbs.

I knew, without a doubt, what I would have done in my demon days. And not enough had changed. A not so subtle growl deep in my chest resonated through my bones. I launched forward, no longer caring about the towel as slick terry cloth dropped to the floor, and I rushed through the opening of the sauna, naked and unarmed. My physical state alone might confuse anyone trying to do me harm. And if it was who I thought it was—I was doomed no matter which tactics I used.

Without another thought, I skirted through the locker room on my bare feet, slip-sliding across the tiles. Each bank of locker’s shifted in my peripheral vision. Not a scent, sound, or item out of place. 

Perhaps my mind wasn’t what it used to be, but after three circuits of the room I resigned my trembling fingers to doing up the buttons on my clubbing outfit and changed tactics.

If tonight was my night to die, I’d sure as Pandora’s Box die while doing what I love.

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This is my Work Board...

This is my current work board hung right next to my desk in my office. All those notes strewn everywhere are the plot bunnies that have been attacking me and ideas for new books/series. Also the cover flat for Riveted by Meljean Brook, a Kristin Painter button for Blood Rights,, two business cards for people who make corsets with saucy models advertised on them, and another button that says "I heart steampunk".

This filled up board is the current reason I've written nearly 90,000 words since the beginning of January. And why my head hurts. And why I don't have the patience to make my phone camera go back to color because it somehow got switched to weird, black and white, sepia old time-y photo mode. If you don't hear from me for awhile, this lovely little board is the reason.

I'm currently rounding the bend in Furious Temptation and much trouble and smexy times are afoot. Meanwhile Furious Lust got it's first review with Read My Lips Reviews who had this to say about my paranormal debut series: "Furious Lust by Elise Hepner is a great paranormal read mixed with mythology you’ll enjoy if you love delving into a character’s head and knowing their thoughts." 

Oh, and I got a haircut.