Frances Stockton: September 2014

Greetings! I'm thrilled to let you all know that my newest release, Pleasure Trove, Ellora's Cave Moderne, is Available Now directly from Ellora's Cave, Amazon, ARe and Google Play/Books for Android tablets!

While these links will be available on my Bookshelf page on my website http://www.francesstockton.com I wanted to update my blog with the links as well!

I'll also add a great excerpt if you're interested in getting a glimpse of a standalone Contemporary Erotic Romance with a HEA.

Pleasure Trove Links:

Ellora's Cave: http://www.ellorascave.com/pleasure-trove.html
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Pleasure-Trove-Frances-Stockton-ebook/dp/B00N971GZY/ref=sr_sp-btf_title_1_11?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1409758446&sr=1-11&keywords=Frances+Stockton
ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-pleasuretrove-1612155-340.html
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Frances_Stockton_Pleasure_Trove?id=g5lmBAAAQBAJ

Excerpt:

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.

An Excerpt From: PLEASURE TROVE

“Oh hey, you’re the new girl,” Hardy said, grinning at her.

“I’m Calysta MacIntyre, the PA,” she answered, wondering how long it’d been since anyone called her a girl. She’d turned thirty a month ago. “Can you lend me a hand? I don’t want to spill anything on my first day.”

“Sure, sure,” Hardy replied, reaching out to take one of the carryout trays. At least the trays were divided and each cup had its spot. Still, they’d been heavy and awkward. “You’re mighty pretty, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you, that’s sweet of you to say.” Callie lifted her head, hoping her long wild light-auburn hair remained twisted up at her nape with the aid of a strategically placed pencil.

For her early-morning interview with Sven Erikson, she wore a light-green and rose-flowered print maxi dress that flowed prettily to her ankles. Trendy sandals were on her feet. Normally, she’d wear a business suit or slacks to work and her hair would be straightened or sedately braided. Admittedly it’d been nice not to fuss with it this morning.

Fortunately, Sven hired her shortly after the interview began, as it’d been the third since they’d first met. At the time, she’d been certain she didn’t stand a chance, as she had no actual studio work on her resume. Her saving grace had been a long-standing stint as a theater technician and a background in creative writing and plays.

“Sorry for the delay in getting to the door,” Hardy said, breaking her train of thought. “I was tied up elsewhere when you returned. Come on, follow me.”

“I understand, I hope I didn’t come across as impatient,” she replied, entering the building and making a quick right into a small sitting room before moving through it into another short hall and the depths of the studio. The entrance reminded her of a maze.

During the interview process, she’d learned that Pleasure Trove Entertainment had two primary locations, this one in Hollywood and another smaller one on Catalina Island that was used for outdoor shoots. Most of the movies, however, were shot in this gigantic converted warehouse and the director’s office was located here.

“No worries,” Hardy explained. “The crew is putting the finishing touches on the set now. Mr. Erikson will have plenty for you to do shortly.”

“I’m grateful he’s giving me a shot. I’m hoping to learn about screenwriting, but my experience is primarily in theater,” she admitted, silently thanking her former college roommate’s agent for helping Callie get an initial interview with Sven Erikson.

Callie knew from her experience as an investigative reporter that when it came to going undercover, it was best to stick as close to what you actually knew than make up a false identity on a resume.

During her initial interview with Sven, she’d been honest with him as to her identity, explaining that she’d been placed on a two-month furlough from her job as a copy editor at Bingham and Hardwick Publishing. On the chance that the job would be cut permanently, she’d started sending out resumes.

When pressed further, she told him the small publisher had been bought out and the new ownership began cutting positions and furloughing employees due to economic reasons. What she really hoped to accomplish by coming to LA was to find a job as a screenwriter, she’d told Sven.

She’d also admitted that the publishing company produced pamphlets and textbooks on Maryland history, local magazines and small-town newspapers. While her role as the Phantom Reporter had been anonymous, it was possible that someone doing a background check could find out the truth.

As simple as the title of her former column had been, she’d insisted on anonymity due to the nature and sensitivity of going undercover. At the beginning her articles had been well-received until the paper she’d written for was placed online and became more fluff than informational.

So far she thought her Phantom column was safe from discovery. Otherwise, she doubted Sven would have called her back for a second interview and requested a copy of the play she’d written as part of her master’s degree in English lit.

During that interview, she’d been able to shine. Sven asked about her experience in technical theater, something she truly loved and believed was the reason he hired her. He didn’t ask a thing about Bingham and Hardwick and she’d been grateful.

It’d been then that she asked if she could be known around the studio as Calysta MacIntyre, her pseudonym. He’d agreed and was hired on a trial basis.

Callie had been relieved. Her aunt and uncle’s pain was immeasurable. If she could give them some answers as to how their daughter could be lost for so long only to become a porn star and then be discarded as if no one cared one iota for the loss, she’d do whatever it took to make that happen.

She wasn’t at Pleasure Trove to write a story or a tell-all. But if she found proof that the director or anyone in power at the studio knew about Laura’s stint in underage porn or was even responsible for it, she’d turn it over to the detective who’d first notified her aunt and uncle about the death of their daughter.

From what Callie knew, Detective Morrison had investigated her aunt and uncle’s concerns about the black-market DVDs, but they’d found nothing to implicate Pleasure Trove as responsible for producing illegal porn or they’d have rightfully closed them down.

Regardless, this was Laura’s last known place of employment and this was where Callie needed to be. She honestly didn’t know who produced the illegal movies. But it was possible someone on the inside knew. Someone had sent those movies to her family. She hoped to find that person and see what he or she knew about who produced Lola Lane’s older movies.

“Mr. Erikson saw something in you that he liked or you’d have never made it past his office,” Hardy was saying, bringing Callie back to the task at hand.

“Well, I certainly know my way around set building and stage managing,” she assured. “I’m also great at striking sets, prepping flash pots, creating fog, running sound and light boards and helping actors change costumes in record time.”

“What kind of theater were you in?”

“Community, non-union, not that I begrudge someone for joining one,” she answered.

“Ever act?”

“Only as an extra in big musicals for fun and experience,” she said.

“Then you can move,” Hardy remarked. “You’re certainly pretty enough to be on camera, should you ever consider trying.”

“I’ll stick to what I know, tech work. Give me a power drill to fix something or gaffer’s tape to keep cables from becoming a trip hazard, I’m good,” Callie commented.

Walking carefully as she carried her tray, she refrained from asking too many details about the studio itself. Now that she’d been hired, she had to show everyone she belonged.

Hardy continued on. The guard was at least six foot five and broad-shouldered with a lot of pumped-up muscle, yet the cavernous size of the building made him appear small.

Along the walls were heavy-duty shelves stacked with lumber, windows, doorways, canvas flats, tools and props. A U-shaped second floor above them looked to have a dozen different production rooms or small offices. The ceiling beams were made of metal with industrial lighting.

A little afraid they’d never reach their destination she picked up her step, nearly colliding with Hardy when he stopped in front of a red-velvet curtain with gold ropes. Pulling on one of the ropes, he drew the curtains aside.

Lights were up, a crew was scurrying about fixing this or that and a handful of models in skimpy lingerie and super-high heels huddled together on a big sectional sofa off to stage left. On a platform in the center of the enormous room was a tropical-island set, complete with white sand, palm trees and a bamboo shelter with an enormous round bed.

Four men in tight bathing suits held palm fronds in their hands, practicing waving them up and down. They were good-looking with dark hair, lean muscles, and judging the fronts of their bathing suits, endowed, their tans as artificial as Hardy’s.

In one corner, a tall, leggy brunette with an ultra-trim waist and huge breasts wore a short see-thru beach robe over a barely there crimson bikini. Judging by the conversation she was having with the director and someone behind a screen, something had irked the actress.

“Mr. Erikson, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve brought your coffee orders,” she said to the director, silently reminding herself that she’d left Callie in Baltimore. “Where should I place them?”

Right here, right now, she needed to be Calysta MacIntyre, calm, cool and professional. That was until Sven Erikson moved away and a man stepped out from the screen and she momentarily forgot who she was.

Resembling a beautiful blond Greek god, he didn’t have a sprayed-on tan. Oh no, he was taller than Hardy by at least two inches, broad, built and sculpted with gorgeous wavy shoulder-length hair left wild and unbound.

Wearing nothing but bathing trunks, he filled out them out beautifully. His face, perfection, chiseled perhaps by the gods themselves.

Trembling nervously, Callie caught herself, waiting for the director to tell her what to do when the actor’s eyes met hers from across the room. He smiled, flashing perfectly white teeth and sending a sharp pang of sensation low in her belly.

For the longest time, they stared at each other, both seeming unwilling to look away. Tiny butterflies took flight within her, her heart thudding. This wasn’t just any actor, somewhere in her cluttered thoughts, she recognized him as Pleasure Trove’s leading man, Maksim Steel.

Frances Stockton

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