On ❄️ Sale ❄️ To ❄️ Celebrate ❄️ Its ❄️ Release
The 𝒯𝒾𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓉𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒯𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 Series
now available in a box set
I will be commenting on this post with review quotes through the weekend. I know, you’re psyched.
On ❄️ Sale ❄️ To ❄️ Celebrate ❄️ Its ❄️ Release
now available in a box set
I will be commenting on this post with review quotes through the weekend. I know, you’re psyched.
from Chapter 1 of Screwed Over ~
Relieved to have completed the requisite physical activities for her assignment, Cassie couldn’t wait to get out of the costume, shower and sleep forever. But riding down in the elevator she began to worry about all of the little things that can go wrong when an extremely wasted person is left alone. Sure, Dagmar had been fine when Cassie left her snoring away on her stomach, and sure, her unobservant bandmates should have returned from the closed down club hours ago. But she couldn’t think of a single reason (other than walking around barefoot, with crazy hair, no mask on and half a Catwoman costume mostly laced up around her oversexed body) not to put her mind at ease and check on her new friend. Cassie watched the doors open and close again on her floor then she rode back up. As she got closer to the girls’ suite, she could hear the faint, muffled sound of a man’s voice raised in anger. She pressed her ear to the door but couldn’t make out any words. There was definitely a man in there shouting. Stupidly scared that somehow Dagmar had let some asshole breach the security of her room, Cassie pounded on the door like the police.
The man’s voice approached the door and Cassie heard, “. . . that will have to satisfy me until morning then.”
The door swung open three inches, bouncing a bit on the chain, to reveal an angry, red faced MH. Cassie’s jaw dropped. He sputtered for a minute, his mouth having a hard time keeping up with his brain, before saying, “YOU?!?” and slamming the door shut.
Cassie was so shocked to see him she didn’t even react. Running for the stairs might have been prudent. Instead, she just stood there in her bare-ass-feet, mouth hanging open, awaiting whatever was about to befall her. She heard the chain clear the latch. MH whipped the door back open and stood rooted in place, a meter away from Cassie.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, words careful but very slightly slower than normal, anger held tight behind his beautiful, blue-green eyes. He hadn’t shaved in days and Cassie yearned to reach out and stroke the rough stubble that covered much of his face and neck.
“I’m here to check on Dagmar. Is she okay?”
Shaking his head back and forth for a couple of breaths he finally sighed, his shoulders sinking. He leaned back into the room and grabbed a handy trash can, wedging it in the door before joining Cassie in the hall.
“Let me understand. You send me a cryptic fucking text message about my sister needing me, and I rush up here as fast as I fucking can. Silly me, I assumed she’d be awake and you’d still be here to explain what the fuck you were doing spending time with my fucking sister in the first fucking place.”
He waited for her to say something. She didn’t.
He continued, “Only Dagmar is passed out here alone. Has no idea who you are really. She will only say that Selina saved her, is her knight in shining leather. Which I didn’t understand fully until now.”
He looked Cassie up and down, open lust coupled with disgust. Her blood sped up in her veins, the sound of it rushing behind her ears.
“She won’t even consider that you might have been involved, that this was all an elaborate setup to make you look like a hero.”
Cassie felt that one like a knife to her sternum. “Did you tell her that?”
“I suggested it.”
“Maybe you did set all this up just to get to me.” He leaned away from her to see her face better in the sparsely lit hallway. “Did you seriously think I would be stupid enough to fuck you again?”
The brighter light glaring into his face revealed to Cassie just how drunk he was and she cursed her rotten luck at finding him like this.
“Did you think that saving my sister from some unidentified thugs would make me fall harder for you?”
He took a step closer. The veins on his neck bulged out as he clenched his jaw.
Cassie did not want to hear another thing. “Stop.”
“Why?” He mimicked her voice, the way she had sounded asking him the same thing only moments before. “You dressed up like my favorite, Catwoman,” his fingers rose to flick at the mask that she’d rolled up and tied down to her shoulder. “You thought since I’m already hooked you could jerk the line and I would fall totally under your spell. Treacherous snake.”
He took another step closer, and this time Cassie retreated a half step back.
“Look, I didn’t even know you were here, let alone that you like Catwoman. Do you think I have access to your diary or something?”
“You aren’t on a panel and none of your friends on social media have posted anything about this con. Get over yourself.”
“Dagmar must have posted all sorts of things about coming here. Why are you messing with my family?”
“M, I swear. I did not know either of you were going to be anywhere near this con. I met her by accident. I only got her away from those guys because I was terrified of what I saw going down.”
The muscles in his face relaxed a little. He leaned back out of the light and slouched against the wall.
Cassie went on to drive the point home while he was still interested in listening. “I didn’t know you were here.”
MH swallowed while readjusting his thinking to the idea. The implications of what that meant about Cassie’s true agenda here at the con, namely giving some other celebrity a magic carpet ride, occurred to him seconds later. His eyes narrowed and his hands curled into fists.
“Who are you stalking this time? Or is it just open season?”
“Since Dagmar was able to fill you in on the evening’s activities, I’ll assume she’s well.” Cassie spun on her heel and took two steps toward the elevator.
“Hold on,” he said, using only one giant stride to reach her. He laid both his hands on the wall to either side of her head and leaned down in her face. “Or is your mission a fait d’acompli?”
Cassie couldn’t say a word and cursed her body for responding to his nearness with a rush of lust rather than the detached uncaring pose she wanted to show him. Something in her face must have given her away.
“Already scratched your itch then. Who is the unlucky bastard?” MH leaned in quite close to her, and she wondered if the crazy man was restraining himself from kissing her. “Maybe I could extend him my sympathies in advance of your article. Give him a little heads up before his life implodes.”
She finally found her voice. “Sorry, no advance spoilers without a premium membership. You’ll just have to read my next column.”
“Not good enough, Cassie.”
This episode is intended to be a monster-of-the-week stand alone for season 11.
INT. The DINING AREA of an upscale, tiny, inn-style Bed & Breakfast [INN]. Three of the five tables are occupied. Young newlyweds, YNW1 and YNW2 sit on the same side of one finishing their dessert. A man [PETE] making notes and reading while he eats sits at another. The third has a woman [JEANETTE, 30s, WHITE WOMAN] and man [NATHAN, 40s, WHITE MAN] sitting opposite each other on an obviously uncomfortable date.
I can’t understand why you’d take her side here.
I’m not taking anyone’s side, I just think it’s kind of unfair-
Sure. She gets all the raises and promotions but I’m the one being unfair.
But you said she laid a lot of the groundwork with the client that-
Groundwork isn’t closing, and closing is all that matters.
Look, let’s just drop it. I don’t even know your boss, not like I can really weigh in on the office politics of it all without-
You don’t have to know her to believe me when I tell you she slept her way up. How else can you even explain it?
I don’t know. Maybe the board preferred her management style.
And maybe you don’t know how the world works, sweet thing.
I know this date is over.
JEANETTE backs up her chair and rises to leave.
And I know you’re at least twenty pounds heavier than your profile picture.
JEANETTE dumps a tumbler of water in his lap and walks through the MAIN ROOM and out. NATHAN storms past the lady innkeeper, [THERESA, 60s, BLACK WOMAN] and her large pet IGUANA and heads upstairs. The camera sweeps around the rest of the ground floor of the small inn filled with objects of distinction and the occasional exotic animal, some alive, some skeletal or taxidermied. A growled shout is heard from upstairs.
(offscreen, presumably leaning half out of the bathroom door)
And now, for a wonderful end to my evening, there’s NO HOT WATER! This place is a dump.
The door slams and plaster dust sprinkles down onto THERESA’s head. She stands with a less than tolerant smile and buckles a toolbelt she’s taken from inside her desk around her waist. She dons a headlamp flashlight and opens the door leading down into the basement. The camera follows her down to a cobwebby and terrifying old space containing an ancient looking boiler where she starts banging on pipes and turning valves, seemingly at random. A low chittering/scratching [SPIDER NOISE] starts and gets louder as the camera rises through the floors past PETE still working in the DINING AREA, past YNW1 and YNW2 making out in front of the fireplace in their room and up into NATHAN’s room just in time to see NATHAN yanked out through the window by a menacing shadow. He barely has time for a short scream.
CUT TO BLACK
an excerpt from the (6,000 word) article:
“It is him, Julie. I told you!” Leane exclaimed just loudly enough for CT to catch it.
“Shhh. Oh my God, Leane. So embarrassing.”
“Why should you be embarrassed that he’s CT?” Leane snorted. He looked up at us and smiled, giving us a little half wave of acknowledgement. “He probably loves meeting fans.”
“Just be quiet, Leane. Not at a doctor’s office, I’m sure.” Then to CT, “Sorry, not trying to intrude.”
“Oh, no intrusion.” He seemed pleased to be recognized, even scooched closer to them on his padded bench. “You’re fans then?”
“Not me,” Leane blurted out. “She is. Probably seen all your movies.” This last she said in a sing song teasing way and I tried to blush.
“Well, that’s flattering,” he said politely. “Glad you liked my performances.”
“She doesn’t like them, she loves them.” She slid her arm around my shoulders and hugged me to her. “Don’t you sweetie?”
“Stop it, Leane.” I laughed good-naturedly and played at shrugging off my feigned embarrassment. “She’s right, I am a huge fan of your work.”
“Yeah,” she cut in, “your work,” and waggled her eyebrows at him, giggling.
“Thanks. What’s been your favorite role so far?”
“I really like your new tv show.”
“Great!” He seemed almost shocked to hear it.
“But my favorite is probably Travis from Lightning Strikes. Such a deep film and the characters were amazingly real. You were wonderful.”
“That’s one of my favorites too,” he replied, voice tinged with genuine pride.
“Didn’t hurt that you were naked for the middle third of the movie,” Leane dropped, running a fingertip slowly up my arm and smiling as CT noticed and licked his lips.
“Made for a cold shoot,” he said, making light of her comment but still riding high off of my praise.
“Don’t downplay it. I thought you and Kelly Crane achieved a lot in those scenes. A lot of actors would have seen them as erotic throwaways but you both took the story’s themes and elevated them using just your bodies. Incredible really.” The more I fan gushed at him the more open his body language became so I didn’t bother to hide my true love and admiration for his chosen form of professional artistic expression, I just let it roll out over him in a rush. I picked out two smaller, but juicy roles and told him how masterful he’d been in those, all the while being lightly petted by my scorching hot, young and nubile girlfriend. During this his ass inched him completely down the bench to end directly across from us and it seemed like the next stop on its tour of the waiting room was our laps.
“Well, always nice to meet a fan. Can I sign something for you? Take a picture?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly make you do that.” I waved off the star service, but Leane got a scrap of paper and a pen out of her bag. Instead of handing it to him she started scribbling on it.
“It’s no trouble, really.” He seemed to truly desire this common fan interaction, but I knew that a pic would be the kiss of death to all our plans so I kept waving it off.
At this point, a medical assistant wearing hello kitty scrubs called mine and Leane’s fake names to usher us into our appointment, early after all.
“See, no time for selfies.” I stood and held out my hand to shake. “It was lovely meeting you.”
He and Leanne both stood then. CT taking my hand but then leaning in for a half hug and to air kiss near my cheek. As a result of our close proximity the back of his hand pressed up against my left breast and I felt my nipples tighten into diamond hard nubs at the slight stimulus. Hoping he’d felt my sexual response to his nearness, I glanced into his eyes as we parted before diverting my gaze shyly to the floor and walking briskly away. Following our protocol, Leane avoided close physical contact with CT but smiled broadly at him and gave him her note. It was meant to seem like a spontaneous offer, a spur of the moment invitation, but in reality we’d agreed on the wording days before.
This approach was, of course, very tricky.
keep reading for the entire (M rated ~ 6,000 word) article as it appeared on TFP
an excerpt from the (7,500 word) article:
“Do you have many stalkers?” I asked it lightly, half chuckling, but the answer he [JJP] gave sitting back down was quiet and serious.
“A few. That one I do not count. She’s harmless.”
“How can you tell?”
“That woman doesn’t seriously want anything from me, bringing her family in here. Psht. It’s the quiet little freaks sitting in the shadows, they’re the ones that you wake up to, standing over you holding a giant Maglite, wearing only a smile.”
“It doesn’t get much more personal than that.” He laughed and lit another prohibited cigarette. The place was emptying out slowly and a lady in one of the nearby groups coughed and waved a hand in front of her nose. She homed in on his cigarette smoke and gave him her look of death. He flipped her off. She huffed up and practically ran out the front door ahead of most of her people. “No, that little honey isn’t stalker material. I bet she just wants her man jealous. Maybe that gets stuff going for them. Who knows?”
“She clearly wants to fuck you.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Cue his canned sexy face, bedroom eyes and a mischievous grin.
“I wouldn’t count on those guys.” The three old guys were at the bar sipping liquor and none of them looked very happy that JJP was still sitting with me and blowing off whatever discussion they had been having when I first appeared onto their scene.
“Oh no. They definitely want to fuck me. And ten ways on Sunday.” He had held his rocks glass in front of his mouth while talking about the men and now he downed the rest of the liquor and waggled his eyebrows at me. “But not tonight, I’m playing hard to get with them. Can’t give it up too quick or they lose interest, right?”
“I couldn’t say. I’ve never played hard to get in my life.”
He stared at me hard, head tipped slightly, brain and dick obviously warring for control of his mouth.
My mouth, on the other hand, was on and running. My mind and libido gleefully pursuing the same, within-arms-reach goal. I said the next in a terrible Scarlett O’Hara impression because I have the unfortunate tendency to pick up southern accents when I’m around them. “Why don’t you use my fate provided assistance to help you get away from your unwanted suitors?” I did my own eyebrow raising and his small smile seemed hopeful.
“You think you can get me away from them real easy, huh?”
“I think they’d get the picture if we left together. Yep.”
“So if I told you I was sleeping on the bus tonight, that it’s out back and I’d just love to give you a tour, you’d say?”
“I’d say,” I raised my voice to carry over to our interested observers, “Gee, a real live tour bus!” I did my best groupie squeal (which is amazing, btw) and sat back, quivering and shaking in my seat, colt-like with feigned excitement. “How was that?” I murmured for his ears alone, smiling huge.
“Well, let’s get to it, sugar.” He stood and held his hand out to pull me back up onto my heels. “Did I mention that you look good enough to eat?”
keep reading for the entire (M rated ~ 7,500 word) article as it appeared on TFP
an excerpt from the article:
His apartment was gorgeous and for a few minutes I couldn’t believe he took a total stranger there. Then I realized that this was a decoy home. He didn’t really live there. No photos anywhere. No personal touches. The whole place looked like an expensive hotel room. We went into the kitchen and I was shocked when he opened the fridge and there was food in it.
“I was planning a gluten free, egg white breakfast burrito. How does that sound?”
“It is.” JW, still unapologetically topless, rubbed his hand up and down bulging abs. “Gotta keep up my figure.”
I could see around him, into the fridge, just enough to see something large and chocolate in there. “What else is in there?”
“Not much else…”
“I see chocolate.”
“That’s a surprise for later.” He shooed me away from him and pointed at a bar stool. “Sit and let me cook.”
We chatted about the weather while he made our meal. He put a little feta cheese and green olives into the eggs and it was delicious. It was tiny, though and quickly gone.
“Still hungry. What’s for dessert?”
He cleared away the dishes and pulled me off the bar stool. JW started kissing me with his super soft, beautiful lips. Light feathery kisses, and not at all what I was expecting. I felt like fainting, my cretinous friends. He slow danced me to the other side of the kitchen island, the whole time smooching me sweetly. Mashing me against the high counter top with his forceful and amazing body his muscles took the weight off my feet for a second. It felt as if I were melting into him. He moved away from me for two seconds and managed to strip me bare. Lifting me off of my feet, he plunked my ass on the cold granite and pulled my knees both forward and wide apart. Everything was happening so fast that when he laid me back, down on the island, I figured he was planning on having me for dessert. Instead, JW stepped away leaving me nude and in exam position while he got the big glass bowl from the fridge. When he turned around I saw that it was filled with chocolate pudding.
“Do you mind?” he asked me with a bad little boy look on his face.
read more for the entire (M rated ~ 4,000 word) article as it appeared on TFP Continue reading
an excerpt from the article:
MH finished his drink and gestured at the bartender clear across the room. The man shot forward with a tray bearing fresh glasses, an ice bucket, and a whole bottle of very nice tequila. While he replaced glasses, poured, and wiped off the table MH just watched me with an amused grin and didn’t speak a word. The man ran off with the tray, but left the bottle.
“I have to know. How do I remind you of your husband?”
“I can’t. Oh God, this is so embarrassing.”
“We are like old friends,” he said, sliding his hand into mine slowly and caressing my palm with his rounded, blunt fingertips. “There is no need for embarrassment.”
“What the hell.” I took a long drink and shrugged. “You were my celebrity-free-pass.” He looked confused so I continued. “You know. Sometimes couples joke about what celebrity they reserve as their one chance to cheat without repercussions. His was Penelope Cruz, mine was you.”
He frowned and lied badly. “I think this must be an American thing.”
“Maybe,” I said, but I was thinking that more than one little honey has probably curled up to MH and told him about a deal she has with her husband.
“So if he had met Penelope Cruz on the street, and she agreed, they could have had sex and you wouldn’t have been upset?”
“It didn’t really seem like a possibility. I agree that in light of recent events, I probably shouldn’t have joked about sleeping with other people. But it seemed harmless at the time.”
“I wonder how he’d feel knowing that you’re here with me.” His eyes slitted with mischief and he took my hand again.
Ah, and we’d come full circle. “He wouldn’t care. And even if he did, you’re not here with me. We’re just sharing a drink.” I tried to sound nervous over my tequila buzz. “You’re here with your … girlfriend, right?”
“Nope.” His eyes seemed darker, calculating. His knee was touching my leg under the table.
“Oh.” I waited a few beats, then raised my eyes to his. “Oh…”
“I bet he would care a lot.” His eyes roamed all over my body and occasionally lit on my face. “Why are you still wearing your wedding ring?”
“So that men won’t bother me while I’m traveling.”
He laughed loud and long at that one.
read more for the entire (M rated ~ 5,600 word) article as it appeared on TFP
…we join the Tinseltown Temptress’ tale already in progress…
He [internationally famous film and tv star, ZO] came back breaking up an ice pack and handed it to me from as far away as possible. Our arms stretched out between us for delivery, a human suspension bridge of care.
“Thanks so much.” I placed it above my kneecap, on top of my lower thigh and leaned back against the couch’s back.
ZO scurried over to grab the pillows off the room’s window seat. He stacked them up high next to my foot on the floor. “May I?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“I’m at your mercy, sir.”
He slid his hand under my lower ankle, careful to touch only the part with the top of my sock. No skin to skin contact. Raising my leg, he slid the pillow stack underneath to elevate then adjusted the ice more to the outside curve of the joint.
“That should do it.” He smiled another melty, gooey, mess of sweetness grin at me and I felt my downtown tug in response to his painfully adorable nearness. “How does it feel?”
“Can’t help that.”
“No, it’s great. Thanks so much. You’re very sweet to take care of me like this.” I fluttered my eyelashes and everything. “Your girlfriend must feel so protected and safe.”
“Ha!” he barked out. “I don’t think that’s how she would describe it.” He was still squatting in front of me on the floor, leg muscles corded with tension. “Like me to do your calf?”
His hands shot onto my bare skin and he began gently kneading my calf muscles. When his thumbs found my fibular head and applied the perfect amount of pressure there all the stiffness fell out of my shoulders and back like he’d hit a magic relaxer button.
“Holy God, man. Are you a physical therapist too?”
“I did play a masseur in a movie once, but no. This is just a hobby.”
“Rubbing sore strangers?”
Our eyes caught and held. The air between our bodies crackled with nervous tension.
“We’re hardly strangers,” he said, though I’d never even given him a (fake) name. While one hand continued to slowly kneed my calf, his other hand slid up my leg to rub slow, groping circles higher and higher on my thigh.
“That feels incredible.”
“So do you.”
My body surged forward of its own volition and my mouth crashed into his. He immediately slowed the kiss, releasing my calf and sliding that hand up to caress my jaw and face as we licked, smooched and tasted each other. His hand on my leg rose up to cup my ass and squeeze it forcing a moan out of me into his mouth. His groin jerked slightly and he pulled away, hands still trailing lightly over my inflamed skin.
“We shouldn’t do this,” his mouth said, still inches from mine.
“No, of course not,” I said, then leaned back in to suck his bottom lip into my mouth for another deep kiss.
“What if it got out? I’m engaged.”
“What incentive could I possibly have to broadcast my personal business?”
“None. You wouldn’t.”
“What would people think of me?” Smooch, smooch. “My family, what would they think? No, I want this kept between us, a guilty, dirty little secret, just as much as you.”
We stared into each other’s eyes, breathing heavy for a few seconds.
“Fuck it,” he said before leaning in for an even tighter lip lock, hands everywhere on my body at once.
…this is from her 12th article. Start from the beginning with Screw Up. Now on sale for only $1.99 to celebrate its new cover.
2nd edition will release next week
Cover Art and Design by Alla Podolsky