Unicorns and Bisexual Monogamy: 'The Art House' Turns Two!

This month marks the second birthday (aka publishing anniversary) of my contemporary novel The Art House. In honor of this book's special day, I wanted to do a blog post about it and include one of my favorite unicorn images. This is from the cover of Heavy Metal Magazine, which I love:

The Art House is a contemporary novel, not a paranormal novel, but it does include lots of unicorn imagery. The main character, Janelle, used to have a recurring dream about a unicorn. This is due to seeing a sculpture years ago done by the mysterious artist (and main love interest in the story), Edgar. In the novel, she meets Edgar when she stays at his famous "Art House" to do a feature story on him, and those interesting unicorn dreams start happening again while she's there. The dreams ultimately end up having a deeper meaning, which you'll find out if you read the book (**wink, wink!**)

The other thing I wanted to have a quick chat about is the bisexuality of Janelle. In this story, she is a bisexual woman who has repressed her bisexuality all her adult years. The circumstances that happen in the tale encourage her to finally embrace it. This is in part due to the gentle nudging of her new friend and associate of Edgar's, the beautiful model Trixie.

But believe it or not, there is no threesome action in this book. No FFM scenes at all. The experiences that Janelle has with Trixie and Edgar are totally separate. This is an issue I wanted to bring up, concerning bisexuality, especially bisexual characters in fiction, and the assumptions people may have about them.

It seems like most erotic bisexual fiction involves threesomes. And it's true that some bisexual people are polyamorous and/or have threesomes and are perfectly happy with it. My character Trixie is in an open relationship. But there are plenty of bisexuals out there who are simply attracted to people of both (or all, if we're talking about pansexuality) genders. It does not mean that the person needs to be with multiple genders at one time. It simply means that the person is open to having a relationship with someone of either sex.

A lot of people who have read The Art House have told me they were surprised at the novel because it ended up being a very different book than they originally thought it would be. Not only is there no BDSM as one might assume from the sexy mask on the cover, it is a story about a monogamous bisexual rediscovering her soul, or in other words, a woman rediscovering what makes her heart truly sing. And it isn't just about rediscovering love and lust. There's also artistic passion and overall life's purpose. There's a lot more to the story than just sex.

Don't get me wrong. There is a lot of steamy sex in this novel... (**more winks**)...but it's not only a story about that.

If I have succeeded in piquing your curiosity, The Art House is available at multiple online retailers:


PAINTED HEARTS PUBLISHING 

AMAZON US

AMAZON UK

BARNES & NOBLE NOOK

SMASHWORDS



Thanks for stopping by!


XoXo

Scarlett

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www.scarlettknight.org

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Happy Birthday, Art House!

To celebrate its publication birthday, here is a short and steamy excerpt from my novel The Art House:


Drinking sometimes caused old feelings to resurface and made unwanted tears fall. It was undeniable, though: ever since this adventure had started, she’d had more than a few reminders of times and people she’d tried for years to forget. She passed a kitchen and several other rooms too large for a bathroom and too dark to really see into. Checking behind elaborate doors, she found a number of closets and staircases but no bathroom. Finally, she found a small restroom and after relieving herself, checked her appearance in the floor-length gold-framed mirror that wasn’t hanging but rather propped against the wall at a stylish angle. She rubbed away the smears of makeup under her eyes and tried to recapture some of that buzz which had leaked out through her tears.

On the way back, she passed one of the doors that had led to a secret spiral staircase. Mistakenly, she must have left it ajar. When she moved to close it, she heard a man groan.

Freezing with her hand on the doorknob, she listened again to make sure she hadn’t just been imagining things. Then it came again, this time with a woman’s muffled moan in erotic harmony. Her pulse beginning to race, she slowly peeked into the stairwell.

It was a couple all right, there at the foot of the stairs. A long blonde-haired woman in a flowing green dress had her skirts gathered up around her as she knelt in front of a man, frantically giving him fellatio. The man’s upper body was cast in shadow, but she could make out his longish dark hair and stubble. His eyes were closed, his face twisted in fervent ecstasy. She didn’t recognize either of them as anyone Trixi had introduced her to.

The woman’s head bobbed back and forth, her hand stroking the man’s hard cock, which he’d pulled through his pants. She seemed to be enjoying the event as much as he was. Janelle knew she should give this couple their privacy, even if they were doing this out in public. It was their moment of passion, not hers. Still, she found herself unable to break away, her breath growing shallow.

The man gasped and muttered “faster” in a desperate, guttural tone. Janelle had a strong desire to reach inside of her soft blouse and pinch her hardening pink nipples beneath the shell of her bra. She looked down, ashamed but fascinated. A burst of movement brought heat to her cheeks as she panicked, fearing she’d been discovered. But it was only the man, pulling the woman up from the floor and positioning her on all fours on the stairs. He lifted her skirts, her underwear already down around one ankle. His erection, barely visible in the shadow, arced up from his body like an arrow.

He plunged into the woman. She groaned, and Janelle bit down on her thumbnail, her sex tingling with the strong sweet scent of her own stimulation. She needed to leave them alone, let them have their moment, but she couldn’t move her feet. Their passion was intoxicating, something real, unlike so many of her relationships of late. She could actually feel their lust, the forbidden rush of this secret act trapping her in place. She kept her hand on the doorknob, the other hand slack at her side, though she desperately longed to touch herself.

“Darling, did you hear something?” the woman asked, and they stopped moving.

**Click here for more...**

XoXo

Scarlett