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Thursday, June 26, 2008

Help in Unexpected Places by Mysti Holiday

Callie shoved through the automatic doors and stormed past a stunned secretary to push her way into Kane’s office.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he said, voice calm as always. Did nothing upset the man?

“What’s the meaning of this?” She waved a certified letter only inches in front of his nose.

He grabbed her wrist tightly to stop her back-and-forth movement. “It’s a buyout offer for your financially troubled hotel. And you want to stop waving that around before you get more than you bargained for.”

“I don’t need your money or your help.” She tugged, but couldn’t pull her arm away. Still, even held captive, she managed to flip the paper one more time. When he stood slowly and grabbed hold of her other arm, her heart lodged firmly in her throat, and heat built between her thighs.

“You’ve always needed my help, Callie, since the day we met.” He pulled her across his desk and she scrabbled onto her knees to keep from falling. He wrapped one hand around both wrists and keeping them captive over her head while the other hand brushed down her cheek, neck and along the edge of her breast. She quivered in response to the forbidden touch and clenched the muscles in her pussy before she soaked the top of his desk with her cream.

“Damn you, Kane.” She wanted the words to sound angry, but they came out breathless.

A smile curved his lips. “Already am, Callie, thanks to you.”

His hand slipped under the edge of her blouse, edging its way to the front closure on her lacy bra. With a flick of his fingers it opened and her aching breasts tumbled free. Her already sensitive nipples responded to his touch. He brushed, plucked, squeezed, pulled—each one in turn.

“Kane, please...” she squirmed, not sure if she was trying to get closer or farther away. “We can’t...”

“Yes. We can.” He pivoted with her and pressed her back, lengthwise onto the desk, shoving papers and supplies to the floor. The rattle of the pens and paper clips was loud enough to make Callie flinch, and sure enough only a moment later a knock came at the door.

“Sir?” It was his secretary. “Are you okay?”

He grinned and shoved Callie’s shirt up to her chin, laving her breasts with his warm, damp tongue before replying, “Better than fine, Mary. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day off.”

“But, sir, we have work.” The door knob jiggled, and Callie tensed. She was both horrified and aroused at the thought of being caught.

“Oh, I think I’ll be getting off soon anyway.” He reached his free hand down and unsnapped Callie’s skirt. “You go enjoy your afternoon. I know I will.”

The door handle stopped its jiggle and Callie breathed a sigh of relief.

“Don’t relax quite yet, Callie,” he murmured. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

“Kane, you’re getting married tomorrow.” Callie tried to wriggle away from his calloused hand. He’d unhooked her skirt and had tugged it down past her hips, leaving only a tiny bit of ivory lace.

“Am I?”

He released her captive wrists and tore her panties from her in one sharp move. Before she could think, he buried his face between her thighs and plunged his long, hard tongue inside her. She cried out and grabbed his shoulders, desperate for more, needing to touch him—skin on skin, but was frustrated by the shirt he still wore.

One of his hands slid beneath her ass and two fingers took the place of his tongue, dipping in and out of her sheath. His mouth moved to her clit, sucking, flicking, touching her until she screamed and came in a rush of liquid and heat.

She laid her head back, panting, sated and unsurprised when he stood and moved away. He’d always played with her, but had never followed through, not completely.

“Damn, you taste good.” He sucked on the two fingers he’d had inside her.

It was the final straw. She sat up and shoved her skirt all the way off of her body, following it with her wrinkled blouse and lace bra. “Do I?”

Straddling the wide desk, her legs nearly in a perfect split, she touched herself, licked her fingers.

His eyes narrowed.

“Do you wonder if I feel as good as I taste, Kane?” She leaned forward and slithered to the edge of the desk, loving the feel of the cool oak on her naked skin. She reached out and rubbed his rock hard erection through his dress pants. “Mmm... you feel good. Do you taste good, too?”

She released him from his pants and grabbed his cock in her hands. “Mine,” she whispered. “At least for now.”

She flicked the tip with her tongue, delighted as his moan. She teased the ridge underneath, rubbed the head, before slipping him deeply into her mouth.

“God, Callie, yes.” He weaved his fingers, still heavy with her scent, through her hair and held her close to him.

She sucked and licked and scraped him with her teeth until she felt his balls tense in her hands. She freed him from her mouth, but held him in her hands and lifted her eyes to him. “I want you, all of you, just this once.”

He stepped out of his pants. He slipped open the smallest desk drawer and pulled out a condom. “I’ve dreamed of having you here, like this, for years.”

She sheathed him in the rubber and rolled to her back, spreading her legs wide. “What’s stopped you?”

Without a word in response, he yanked her hips to the edge of the desk and plunged inside, thrusting slowly at first and then faster and faster. She worked herself with a finger, and the orgasm built until she couldn’t stop it. Just as she peaked, he threw his head back and tensed. One last, hard thrust and they both came, her pussy squeezing every last bit of cum from his cock.

He cupped the back of her head and gently kissed her, the tenderness moving her more than everything else that had happened before. “I knew it would be like this.”

She wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead before brushing his cheek with her fingertips. “Then why did you wait?”

“You were married.”

“Widowed for three years now.”

“You loved him.”

“I did.” Callie closed her eyes, trying to picture her husband, but seeing only Kane in her minds eye. “I love you now, Kane. I think I have forever.”

“Good thing I called off my wedding two days ago, isn’t it?” He smiled at her look of shock. “I knew when I sent you that buyout that it was more a declaration than an offer.”


“Of love, Callie.” He moved slightly, still buried deeply inside her and she shivered at the sensation. “I’ve loved you since seventh grade.”

She gasped as she felt him harden again, filling her. When he tweaked her nipples and kissed her, his tongue mimicking the movement of his cock, she pulled her mouth away and breathed the word, “Again?”

“We have years of making up to do.” He took her mouth, and all conversation ceased.

About the Author: Mysti Holiday is the pseudonym of a SAHM who dreams of warm climes and hot bodies. She's married to a wonderful man who happily offers himself for research, and she spends most of her days dreaming of uncomfortable situations in which to place her characters. Visit her website at

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Author Interview: Elizabeth Amber

Whipped Cream is very excited to have Elizabeth Amber with us. Elizabeth is an art historian and museum junkie and her studies of urns, frescoes, and other Greco-Roman artifacts embellished with satyrs celebrating the annual grape harvest inspired her series, The Lords of Satyr.

Discussing the difference between erotica, erotic romance, and pornography, Elizabeth told me, “Each form is valid and will always find readers. Pornography typically focuses more on titillation than on story structure or characters’ emotions.” She sees the scale (from cool to hot) like this: sweet romance, romance, erotic romance, erotica, porn. She also admits she likes them all, plus many subgenres.

She said, “I think it’s great that authors are able to mix and mingle genres these days. My Lords of Satyr series in erotic historical paranormal romance. Five years ago, I don’t think I could’ve sold a mixed bag like that.”

Elizabeth also told me that she likes erotic romance with good characterization and plot and great sexual tension. Some authors she enjoys are “Lora Leigh, Elizabeth Hoyt, Lisa Valdez, Megan Hart, Jaid Black, Kate Douglas, Kresley Cole, J Ward, Shayla Black, Gena Showalter, and many more!” She feels it’s important, though, for an erotic author to read outside the genre as well. “I read a lot of nonfiction and many other subgenres of romance,” she told me.

It’s important to realize that erotic romance isn’t just sex though, she told me. “All the other elements of good storytelling must be there as well: good characterization, plot, voice, pacing, and a healthy dose of sexual tension. My Kensington editor told me she pulled my first novel out of the slush because she responded to my voice.”

The main thing to remember if a writer wants to write erotica, though, is to write what she herself feels intriguing. “If you go with your instincts,” Elizabeth said, “you’ll write something real, and readers will likely respond. As in actual sex, if you’re faking it, your partner (the reader) will know.”

She also cautioned about worrying about what other people (including your mom) will think of you when they read your work. “If you go down that road, you’ll self-censor your way to blandness,” she told me.

Elizabeth admits there are a lot of gray areas when you’re writing sex, but she doesn’t find out-and-out cruelty in a book sexy. She said, though, “I think that almost any topic can make a great, sexy book, if the author cares about it and takes the time to make the characters and situations believable and dramatic.

“In my second novel, Raine The Lords of Satyr, the heroine is a hermaphrodite, something I hadn’t seen another erotic author write about. After I read about how hermaphrodites were treated in the 1800s, I immediately got a story idea I was driven to write. In the 1800s, some of these individuals earned their livings by traveling to medical establishments where they were questioned and examined. I immediately imagined a character like that as sympathetic and I wanted my hermaphrodite heroine to accept herself and to find a lover who accepted her as well.

“That’s the great part about being a writer. You can create happy endings for deserving characters. (And spectacularly awful endings for evil characters.)”

For fun, I asked Elizabeth a few personal questions. When I asked her to share with us her most embarrassing moment, her response was, “Ack! You want me to tell you that?” And in true author fashion, she left a lot of the details up to the readers’ imaginations when she said, “Okay, it had to do with first grade--me all decked out in my spiffy Brownie uniform at school, and having to pee, but being too shy to ask permission. That’s all I’m saying.”

Her favorite food is chocolate in a heart-shaped box, with cookies being a close second. “What do I eat more often than either of those?” she asked. “Salad.” Joined no doubt by a Diet Pepsi, because she informed me she can definitely taste the difference between Pepsi and Coke. “I have a friend who’s a Coke-aholic,” she said, hastening to add, “(the drink, not the powder). Her perception is that all the restaurants and machines offer Pepsi, not Coke. I see it just the opposite.”

She also shared with me a couple of interesting habits she has. “I saw an Oprah show once about weird habits,” she told me. “Two of the weird habits her audience members had were habits I have: 1) I obsessively arrange my money in my wallet from small denominations to large. 2) If I pass someone I think will be stinky, I hold my breath until they’re gone.

“I had never really thought about the fact that I do these things until I heard others on Oprah say they do them. Now, I occasionally ask friends if they do these things. Some think it’s crazy and others are like, yeah, I do it, too.”

Finally, I wanted to know who would play her in a movie if Hollywood ever did the story of her life. “I’m a Sex and the City fan,” she said. “I like to think I’m Carrie, but I think Miranda would play me. I work too hard and too much, and I don’t always get the guy.”

You can read more about Elizabeth and her works at her website,

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Welcome Home by Kealie Shay

Selena forced her eyes open and stretched, shoving lethargic limbs through the crisp, cool sheets cocooning her body. The morning sunshine filtered through the sheer curtains and the sound of the surf beyond whispered to her that it was the beginning of a new day. The delicious soreness of muscles long out of use brought a smile to her face as she recalled the decadent night past.

Donovan couldn't have asked for a better homecoming... and Selena couldn't have asked for the evening to have gone any better. Lord, she'd missed that man. He’d been deployed for eighteen months in the Middle East, and she had been so very faithful. That was a long time to go without the touch of the man you love. Speaking of a recently welcomed home soldier…

Selena rolled toward her man's side of the bed, a side that had been empty for over a year... and found it empty again. She sat up in a rush, terrified that last night had been a dream and Donovan was still really in Iraq. The sight of his camouflage pants draped over the wicker chair across the room slowed her racing heart. She laughed at herself as she rolled from the bed. Deciding to forego panties, Selena pulled on Donovan’s shirt from the night before, letting his earthy and spicy scent comfort and heat her as she wandered in the direction of the kitchen and the smell of fresh coffee.

She pushed through the door into the kitchen and found it empty. Where had that man gone? His duffel was still by the front door where he'd dropped it. She'd jumped him as soon as they'd come through the door the night before.

As she pulled down a mug and poured herself some coffee, a movement beyond the back window caught her attention. Twitching aside the curtain she found Donovan. Intrigued, Selena moved to the sliding glass door. Opening it she slipped out to the back deck and watched as her husband strode into the ocean completely bare-assed naked.

Just watching the muscles in his back ripple with each determined step into the waves made her pussy clench as a rush of cream slickened the lips of her vagina. When his butt tightened as he braced against an oncoming wave, Selena had to clamp her own thighs together and take a deep breath, still she was unable to hold back her whimper of longing.

"Whoo, that boy is fine," she muttered to herself as she placed her mug on the table next to her hip. "Crazy, but fine."

As if he'd heard her words, Donovan turned his head and caught her watching his ass as he moved into the waves. His eyes tracked up her body then back down again and seemed to stop at the hem of the shirt she was barely wearing. Selena knew she was lost the moment he smiled that slow smile and got that look in his gorgeous eyes that melted her heart, as well as other much lower places.

Quickly changing direction, Donovan strode from the ocean and toward Selena. He climbed the steps to the deck, his approach so mesmerizing Selena couldn't even manage a single step backward. When he slipped one hand behind her neck and brought her in for a hot, long kiss the spell dissolved and Selena sighed into his mouth.

Donovan pulled away and grasped her thighs with his large, calloused hands and pulled her up his body. Selena couldn’t think beyond getting her legs around his waist. He helped her do so with his grip on her thighs and she succeeded in wrapping her legs about his waist. Keeping one hand on her thigh he slid the other up beneath the hem of his shirt to grasp her ass and squeeze. As Donovan walked back toward their home, Selena finally spoke.

"I thought you were going for a swim!" she murmured huskily, all the while placing nipping kisses along his jawline. The rough stubble along his cheeks, chin and jaw rasped against her lips and tongue, sending a shiver down her spine. The rubbing of his cock against her sopping entrance sent even more juices to coat her inner thighs as he carried her across the deck.

His chuckle drew her head back and made her look at his face; the wicked glint in his eyes left her breathless.

"I have something better to do."

Selena gasped as her back came up against the side of the house and Donovan held her against the wall with his own body. He plunged his hands into her hair and clenched his fists around the silky strands. Donovan crushed his mouth to hers and invaded that wet, warm space with the aggressive advance and retreat of his tongue. A slight twist of his hips and Donovan slid his long hard length into the warm, wet heat of her pussy. With a groan, Selena arched her neck back as her eyes slid closed. Donovan slid almost completely from her, then thrust back in to the hilt with a grunt. Selena offered a grunt of her own as her head thumped against the rough siding. Intense pleasure kept her from feeling pain beyond the slightest sting along her scalp.

The heat and hardness of his body against her own soft and cool skin as he pounded into her had passion spiraling higher than she had thought possible. Selena was powerless to do anything beyond hanging on for the ride. She rocketed so quickly to the height of pleasure that her climax took her by surprise. As it rolled over her and pulled her under, her orgasm clamped her channel around Donovan’s shaft. Selena was helpless to hold back her cry of completion. Her clenching muscles drove Donovan over the edge right behind her.

“Open your eyes,” Donovan demanded as he emptied into her.

Selena forced her eyes open and gazed through passion-glazed eyes at her husband.

“Mine!” he growled.

"Absolutely,” she sighed and smiled at him, thoroughly satisfied. “Always yours, as you’re mine. Welcome home, soldier. I've missed you."

About the Author: Kealie Shay is the alter-ego of a shy, quiet stay-at-home-mom by day. By night she transforms into a wild woman writing of wicked men and women. She is a sex-crazed nympho who routinely holds bondage parties in her garage, owns a Great Dane named Brock, and plays regularly with Juan, her Cabana Boy. She does all this while wearing a pair of red, thigh-high, stiletto boots. Who cares if it's all in her imagination! Visit Kealie at or

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Author Interview: Mary Winter

Whipped Cream is excited to welcome Mary Winter, author of the upcoming Good Medicine.

Mary commutes between her dream home near the Mark Twain National Forest in Missouri and her residence in Iowa. She lives with a menagerie of animals including an opinionated horse and a cat who was a dog in past life. When not writing spicy tales of erotic romance, she enjoys writing science fiction and fantasy, spending time with her horse, and enjoying the outdoors. Lucky for her, her partner (hero) shares these same passions, and usually both of them can be found in their respective dens writing.

I asked Mary how she distinguished between erotica, erotic romance, and pornography. “Having written all three,” she said, “I can say that per-word porn pays far better than erotica. Seriously, erotic romance, obviously has the romance at the heart of the story. Erotica is a sexuality explicit story that still, at its heart, is written because it’s a good story. It just may not be a romance, or the romance may not be the main focus. Porn is just sex. There may be the loose structure of a plot holding it together, but you’re writing it and reading it for the sex.”

When she’s writing her own fiction, she knows it’s good if it arouses her and if she has an emotional connection with the characters. She wants to know she can imagine herself in the hero or heroine’s place. She told me, “If there isn’t that connection, then something isn’t right.”

When she’s researching her books, she told me that sometimes she’ll ask her partner or friends who might be of a different orientation than she is. If her research is fact finding and world-building, she’s more apt to look it up online. But she did tell me “Sometimes I’ll say ‘hey, want to try this?’”

Her partner doesn’t mind her writing erotic romance, but I asked her about the rest of her family. “My mom thinks it’s wonderful that I’m living my dream, and she reads all of my work (in print),” Mary said. “My grandma tried to read it, but confessed it was a bit too much for her, but she is very supportive as well. The rest of my family is very happy for me too and some of them do read my work.”

Mary started out writing romance. “I just happened to fall into the erotic romance sub-genre,” she said, then added, with a laugh, “which amuses my mom greatly, considering that I had started reading Silhouette Desires when I was twelve, and I was a bookwormish, geeky teen and young adult.”

I asked Mary if there was a line between porn and erotic romance she wouldn’t cross. She told me she’s written both. As a matter of fact, her first paying sale of erotic fiction was a story she wrote for Men’s magazine. It was a m/m story, but she doesn’t remember the name of it any longer. “Now, I probably won’t write porn,” she said, “because my muse is moving in different directions and I’m doing just fine with my erotic romance, but I think I have to take each project on a case-by-case basis.”

I also asked Mary about piercings. Did she have any and what about them was sexy. “I have pierced ears. I’ve always said if I lost weight I’d pierce my belly-button just to show it off,” she said. “I think it signifies that you have the self-confidence to do what you want and walk to the beat of your own drummer. Plus, a little sparkle in certain places never hurts.”

Finally, I asked Mary who would play her if Hollywood ever made a story about her life. She said, “Hopefully someone with the grace and beauty of Kiera Knightly and built more like Queen Latifah.”

You can read more about Mary and her works at her website.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Second Chances by Michelle Cary

Feeling like a fool, Ashley walked along beach, holding her sandals in her hands while waves licked her ankles and tears trickled down her cheeks.

Was her marriage truly over? She assumed so after Cole’s angry outburst. Maybe she should’ve told him about her co-worker’s advance, but what could he have done from half way around the world serving his country?

She’d rebuffed the man and changed jobs to put the incident behind her. At least she thought she had until she and Cole ran into the jackass while walking along the boardwalk. His five-minute apology sent Cole storming off.

Far from the boardwalk, she neared a stand-alone pier designed for fishing, when a noise caught her attention.

On the other side of the pier near the dunes, a couple lay naked stretched across a blanket. Moans of pleasure tumbled from the woman’s lips. Ashley couldn’t help but watch the man lap at the woman’s pussy like a cat after cream. Her own channel clenched emptily and she though about Cole. Never again would she feel the warmth of his mouth against her pussy, or his hard cock plunging inside her.

The couple had no idea she was watching them, invading their moment with her voyeurism. The right thing would be for her to turn and walk away. Though, if they hadn’t wanted to be seen, they should’ve stayed indoors.

The woman sobbed as her climax engulfed her.

“Like what you see?”

The voice behind her caused Ashley to jump. She turned to find Cole standing behind her, his gaze cast toward the couple.

“I…I didn’t want to keep walking and interrupt, so I stopped-”

“To watch instead.” He cut her off mid sentence.

Heat filled her face. “I meant to turn and walk back.”

“But you couldn’t help yourself.” He moved in close. “I understand,” he whispered while gathering the front of her sundress with his fingers. “Watching two people fuck is very erotic. My question is did you think it was hot?” His sentence ended with his fingers trailing beneath her panties, directly into her cream. Her knees buckled and she leaned against him.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he growled. His nimble fingers pumped in and out of her, spreading her juices up and over her clit. “You like the idea of sex in public.”

“I do,” she whispered, her words tumbling from her mouth in a rushed garble of desire and need.

“Keep watching them.” He dropped to his knees and tugged her panties down, pulling the lace free from her moist flesh. She stepped out of them and Cole stuffed the lace into his pocket.

Her gaze drifted back to the couple who had changed positions. The woman’s head bobbed up and down like a dashboard novelty, licking and sucking the man’s cock.

Cole held the front of her dress up, allowing the cool ocean breeze to kiss Ashley’s heated mound. Then his mouth was there, his tongue swiping through her folds setting a fire deep inside her. She gasped only to bite down on her lip in an attempt to contain a moan. With one hand resting on the pole, she snaked the other through his hair and struggled to keep her eyes open.

The woman straddled her man and sank onto his shaft, impaling herself. All the while Cole’s agile tongue worked Ashley’s clit, torturing the tiny nub with one warm rasp after another.

“Cole, please,” she begged, not caring if anyone else heard.

He looked up; the evidence of her desire glistened on his chin. “Yes, baby.”

“Give me more,” she pleaded.

“Your wish is my command.”

He burrowed into her mound, sucked hard on her clit. She exploded, her entire body throbbing her release. Still, her pussy clenched emptily and she knew she wouldn’t be sated until she felt his large length buried deep inside her.

He must have thought the same thing, because he unzipped his jeans and pushed them, boxers and all, to his knees. His glorious cock sprang forward, ready and waiting for satisfaction. A satisfaction she was more than happy to provide.

He lifted her up, instructing her to wrap her legs around him. Her head and upper back rested against the pole. “Tell me you’re mine, Ash.”

“I’m yours, Cole.”

He slid deep and she whimpered at the wonderful sensation of him filling her. “Forever, Ash.”

“Forever,” she repeated while he pounded into her. The fire in her belly raged higher, burned hotter. It wouldn’t take much for her topple over that precipice a second time, but she didn’t want to go without him. The sound of wet, slapping flesh mixed with the roar of the waves and somewhere from behind her came a cry of release, an echo of her own climax barreling over her. Her channel clamped around his shaft, and she struggled to hold her own cry of pleasure.

Cole growled in her ear and bit down on her shoulder then drove into and held there, filling her. For several seconds neither of them moved; even words were beyond her ability.

“So you’re not mad anymore?” she finally managed to ask.

He lifted his head to look at her. “No, I’m not mad anymore.”

She wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “What changed your mind?”

He smiled. “A very nosy and helpful bartender, who pointed out that we all make mistakes.”

She studied his eyes, seeing the love radiating from deep inside. “I love you, Cole.”

He kissed her nose. “I love you too. Why don’t we go back to our room, so I can show you how much?”

He lowered her to the ground. Left uncomfortably empty, she couldn’t wait to get back to their room. They might still have a long road ahead of them before their marriage was strong again, but at least he was willing to give them a chance. She couldn’t ask for anything more.

About the Author: A lover of romance novels, Michelle decided a few years ago to try her hand at creating fictional worlds through words instead of paint. The result has given her an entirely new perspective on the world. Every day affords new opportunities for ideas and new ways to create the perfect happily ever after.

Raised in ‘small town’ Illinois, Michelle now lives in New Jersey with her extremely supportive albeit somewhat neglected husband and their two beautiful children. For updates on her latest work, check out her website at or visit her myspace page at .

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Author Interview: Michelle Cary

Whipped Cream is very excited to welcome Michelle Cary to the inaugural issue of this newest segment of The Long and the Short of It.

Michelle was actually raised in small town Illinois, but now lives in New Jersey with her, as she puts it, “extremely supportive albeit somewhat neglected husband” and their two children. She told me that her husband has only recently read any of her work. “He’s never been a reader,” she said, “and I’ve never pushed the topic, but he did tell me he thought it was very good.” As a matter of fact, he can be credited with the start of her writing career. “I was watching an episode of the ‘Deadliest Catch’ one night and had a story idea,” she told me. “It wouldn’t go away and my husband suggested I write it down. 75k later and I had a novel. It was horrible, but it was the start of everything I do today.”

She told me she had quit her job when her young daughter developed kidney problems. Then, when she was in preschool and the older child was in school, Michelle found she had a lot of extra time on her hands. She decided to try her hand at creating fictional worlds through words and it gave her an entirely new perspective on the world. She’s all about the HEA, and every day gives her new ways to create the perfect happily ever after.

Her fellow author and critique partner Amanda Young got Michelle involved in Samhain’s Midsummer Night’s Steam series, even though Michelle had started writing straight contemporary romance. “Before I knew it,” she said, “I had an erotic romance published.”

Along with her erotic romance, she writes romantic suspense. “It’s challenging,” she told me, “in the fact that I have to make the story suspenseful without giving away the ‘who did it’ too soon.”

She’s trying to hold her uncles off reading any of her work until the romantic suspense gets published. She told me, “[They] enjoy teasing me about [writing erotic romance], but I know they’re all extremely proud of my accomplishments. They want to read my work, but being from the ‘Bible belt’ I feel a little odd about them reading my erotic stuff.”

I asked Michelle what she did when she wasn’t writing. “I’d love to say something really creative here, but honesty prevails,” she said. “Usually, if I’m not writing, or promoting, I’m doing house work. With two kids and a husband to take care of there’s always laundry or dishes or a couple dozen other chores that need to be done around the house.” And, I have it on good authority, she makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. In fact, that’s her favorite food. She admits, though, to not being such a great brownie baker. Actually, she said, “I can’t bake a brownie to save my life.” Her least favorite food? “Sushi,” she told me. “My husband loves it, but I just can’t bring myself to put raw fish in my mouth.”

One of my favorite questions to ask people is if they can tell the difference between Pepsi and Coke. Michelle’s response—“ Absolutely. Pepsi is sweet where Coke has that kick you in the ass bite.”

Michelle has one piece of advice for new writers just starting out. “Don’t let your ego get in the way,” she said. “There are lots of great writers out there willing to give good advice to newbies. Don’t be too proud to listen to what they have to say.”

You can read more about Michelle and her works at