Release Day for Human Aspect!

Human Aspect is finally out!

Dauch has never doubted his clan's wisdom: Humans are fit only as prey and slaves to the shapechanging lochmari. Nor has he ever doubted his place in his clan: As the Warleader's son and heir, his only true rival is his despised cousin, Afel. But when, on the very cusp of manhood, he spies human lovers in the lochmari forest, he is suddenly faced with questions he had never thought to ask -- and a dangerous new infatuation. Dauch hopes to find a way to embarrass his rival and gain the woman he wants, but his anger and obsession will only pave the path to his doom unless he can learn something no lochmar has ever known before: how to love.

It's a novelette-length high fantasy coming-of-age story with shapeshifters and swords, magic and murder, romance (m/f) and rivalry. All that for only $2.99!  An excerpt from the beginning of the story can be found at: http://www.prizmbooks.com/samples/humanaspect.html

I'm incredibly happy to see this release. I love this story. Love it. I love protagonists who are deeply flawed but struggle to better themselves. I love magic and I love non-standard shapeshifters and I love digging into the psyche of the bad guy and I love feisty, fiery women. I love turning expectation on its ear.

And I love backstories. And that's how this one started -- Lynn wrote a novel (yet to be published, or I'd be shoving you in its direction as hard as I could). And there was a scene where the main character met his grandmother for the first time -- a fiesty ex-redhead with an eyepatch and the tantalizing hint of a story about his long-deceased, nonhuman grandfather. I wanted the rest of that story. Of her story. I demanded that Lynn give it to me, and she confessed that she really didn't know any more than what she'd already written.

So I wrote it. That was the first draft of Human Aspect. It's changed quite a bit since that first draft -- for one thing, I had to lift it out of Lynn's world and into another one in order to avoid the legal quagmires of copyright and fanfiction. That changed things sufficiently to necessitate rewriting several scenes entirely, and some heavy edits to others. But at its core, it's still a backstory about a feisty redhead and the monster she loved.

Pick it up today at: http://www.prizmbooks.com/zencart/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=66

(I haven't seen it show up on the distributor sites yet, but I'll edit this to include those links when I do, or you can check the sidebar.)

Edited to add: Amazon link - http://www.amazon.com/Human-Aspect-ebook/dp/B00DHNA8CC/

Newsy

I know I haven't posted for a while. Bad author; no cookie!

But! But but but! This week, there is news!

First and foremost, we are only one week from the release of Human Aspect from Prizm Books (the YA imprint of Torquere). I'm so excited for this story, I can't even begin to tell you!

What's that, you say? Excerpt? Why, yes, you can have an excerpt! How about something just a little sexy?

[Dauch] woke from a doze with a start at the sound of bodies moving through the underbrush. He sniffed, but caught only the faintest of scents; he was upwind.

It was the same pair, though, he was certain of it. Even in the dark, he could make out the red of the female's hair, and the breadth of the male's shoulders could not be mistaken. Dauch's tail whipped through the air, but he remained still otherwise, watching them.

They had gained some confidence. The male did not plead, but took the female into his embrace quickly. They grappled in near-silence, punctuated only by an occasional grunt or groan. Dauch was amazed and confounded by the things they did with and to each other.

What was the purpose of that caress, or such a position? Was it sanity to allow a female to use her teeth thus? What lochmar would put his mouth there?

When the female cried out, the male petted her hair tenderly, like a mother soothing a child. But she did not whimper as if in pain or fear, and indeed reached for him again. Dauch realized, with startling clarity, that their purpose was not mating, but pleasure alone. He could scarcely believe such a thing -- but though he waited and watched, the male never mounted to plant his seed, letting it spill fruitlessly to the earth instead.

In silence, then, the humans dressed. They clung to each other a moment longer, and despite the wrongturned wind, Dauch could smell the musk of their strange and fruitless passion. His tail lashed in confusion, but when he resumed his natural shape, his body's reaction was painfully intense.

That's about as explicit as the story gets, by the way -- this is not the purchase to make if it's erotica you're after. Because of the maturity of the content, this is being classified as a "New Adult" story, the very "oldest" of Prizm's offerings, but it is still a YA imprint, so there are lines that remain uncrossed in terms of what's shown on-screen, so to speak.

***

And in other news, I finally finished my novel, Foxfur, and submitted it. I don't even want to admit how long that's been in the works. Its initial incarnation, Willow Bough, is some eight years old, and I didn't seriously think about publishing it until at least three years ago -- at which point I ran into this brick wall of, quite honestly, kind of hating the plot.

It had all my least favorite story elements.  The bad guy was bad for no apparent reason. (Or rather, he had perfectly good motives, but no excuse at all for carrying anything to the extent that he did.) There were threads introduced and never used; there were characters and capabilities showcased that later completely disappeared; the climax smacked of deus ex machina, and the denouement was actively depressing. And all of that could have been overlooked if the main character had been especially relatable and on a journey of self-discovery, but he wasn't especially likeable, and worse, he was passive, apparently unable to act on his own behalf. (To be fair, it had started out as an exploration of total power exchange submission, but I didn't realize at the time that's what it was, and so I'd utterly failed on several points, including the understanding that good submission -- by which I mean both enjoyable and readable -- is an active decision rather than a passive one.)

Despite all that, I liked the feel and tone of the story. So I spent a long time trying to fix it before eventually I gave up and shelved it.

A couple of years later, I had an idea of how to revamp the story to make it better. It required, however, starting over, completely from scratch. The only bit of Willow Bough that remains to this story is the main character's name and profession (sort of). Everything else is completely revamped: new bad guy, new plot, new romantic interest, and most of all, a new personality for the main character.

(When Lynn beta-read it for me, she said two things: first, that she'd opened the file when she received it that night just to make sure it hadn't been borked by the email -- and found herself looking up when she got to the end only to discover it was one in the morning. And second, "You really weren't kidding when you said you started over from scratch." Because usually when an author says they completely rewrote a story, what they mean is that they edited extensively. Not, you know, actually rewrote it.)

Anyway, if Torquere accepts it, it'll be my first real novel, which makes me feel pretty excited!

Listen to Me!

I found out yesterday that Duty and Desire, which contains my short story "Dead on Her Feet" (and Lynn's "Snake Dance") has been released as an audio edition, either on CD or digitally from audible.com! (The Kindle edition, by the way, is on sale right at this moment for only $2.99, if you've been on the fence about picking this up!)

The audiobook has different cover art from the original book; an interesting change. The book is aimed at a primarily female audience, so I wouldn't have thought a naked woman would be a selling point, but maybe more men listen to audiobooks? (Something about the woman gives me an Uncanny Valley twitch in any case; the hair, maybe?)

Whatever; I'm not a marketer or a cover artist, so maybe they know something I don't. And anyway: audio version; the cover probably doesn't matter as much as it would for a physical book.

As far as I know, this is my first audio release, so that's worth noting, right? It's pretty exciting! If you like audiobooks, check it out!

Cover: Human Aspect

Human Aspect will be coming out from Prizm Books (Torquere's YA imprint) in about a month, on June 19 -- and I just got the cover!

I am squee! Human Aspect is one of my favorite stories I've ever written, for many different reasons, and I'm thrilled for it to see the light. Here's the blurb I've written for it (though it may change somewhat before publication):

Dauch has never doubted his clan's wisdom: humans are fit only as prey and slaves to the shapechanging lochmari. Nor has he ever doubted his place in his clan: as the Warleader's son and heir, his only true rival is his despised cousin, Afel. But when, on the very cusp of manhood, he spies human lovers in the lochmari forest, he is suddenly faced with questions he had never thought to ask -- and a dangerous new infatuation. Dauch hopes to find a way to embarrass his rival and gain the woman he wants, but his anger and obsession will only pave the path to his doom unless he can learn something no lochmar has ever known before: how to love.

For my followers here who aren't actually regular readers, this is a good one to grab -- it's a fantasy coming-of-age story with a (m/f) romance element, but there's no explicit "on-screen" sex.

I'll be posting some excerpts and possibly running a contest in June, so be on the lookout!

Unsaid (excerpt)

I was already struggling with what to talk about today (my brain is not in good working order lately) and then I came in to the Day Job to discover that my right-hand man (well, woman) isn't coming in and that, naturally, things are Quite Insanely CrazyBusy.

And what do I do when I am lacking ideas and/or time for a proper blog post? That's right! An excerpt from something I've written lately!

How about this, from the shortfic/prompt project I'm working on with Lynn, titled "Unsaid":

"We could go to the movies, if there's something on worth watching?"

The vibrator is nestled snugly against my clit, and even without turning it on, its shape and pressure taunt me. I am fidgeting; it's an effort of will not to rock my hips, not to make that nub of plastic push and stretch me out of myself. The car stops, and I allow myself one small thrust against the firm leather of the seat as you walk around to open the door for me. You come back into view and you smile at me, through the window, and one hand slips inside your coat pocket. I jump as, gentle and insistent, the vibrator comes to life. I can feel the blush climbing my cheeks as I look up at you, and your smile widens as you open the door and offer your hand. I take it: I will need your support well before we reach our seats, it seems.

"A movie could be fun, I guess. Maybe a walk in the park, after?"

The scent of fresh-cut grass mingles with that of your hair as you lean back against my chest. I push my cock against the curve of your ass and I feel, more than hear, your chuckle. You stand behind the park bench, leaning only slightly forward, your hands resting on its back as if you are posing for a portrait. From behind you, I lift your skirt and slide your panties down, and only a moment later my prick is seeking your depths. My hands cover yours as we rock together, but as the need mounts, such delicate restraint ceases to serve me. My arms wrap around you, hands closing on your breasts, and I pull you tightly back against me, tighter, tighter, tighter still, as if through sheer will I could meld us into a single being. You tip your head back, nestling it into the hollow of my shoulder, giving yourself to me entirely, your eyes closed to the expansive brilliance of the night sky.

I hope you enjoyed that! (I certainly did...) And now, I'm afraid I have to dash back to the Day Job...

Aspect

Recently, I was cleaning out some old folders and files, re-organizing and clearing away the cruft, and I found myself looking, once again, at a story I wrote some years ago called "Human Aspect".

Its original incarnation was actually sort of a fan-fic response to a novel that Lynn was writing, a high fantasy piece in a world of her own design. At one point in it, the main character meets, for the first time, his paternal grandmother -- a feisty old woman with once-red hair and an eyepatch, who had run away from her home village to be with her lover, a non-human from a race of shapechangers that most humans considered little better than brutal beasts. (Think orcs. But with shapechanging.)

It was a tantalizing bit of world-building, and I desperately wanted to know more about this old woman and even moreso, her lover -- why had he run away to be with her, if these shapechangers considered humans to be, essentially, prey?

And so I wrote this story about a shapechanger who could turn into ("Aspect") a mountain lion and his rival cousin and the human woman he became obsessed with. I pestered Lynn about it endlessly, forcing her to invent details she hadn't even considered so I could plug them in. I invented a lot of my own, as well, and when it was done... I had one of the best stories I'd ever written, actually.

Good enough that I really wanted to see it published. Of course, since Lynn was also seeking publication for her novel, and since fanfic is generally prohibited, I had to go back and change a lot of those details that I'd pried out of her into something else of my own devising, so it would still be my story.

And even then, finding a home for it was a challenge. It's high fantasy, half coming-of-age, half-romance, but it's rather dark, and the main character is, arguably, the bad guy. At least, right up until the end, anyway. It's not short enough to put in an anthology, but it's not long enough to make into a standalone novel. Very difficult to place. So I shelved it.

But when I stumbled across it again, I recalled that Torquere had opened up their Prizm (young adult) line to allow for m/f pairings in addition to LGBTQ ones, and every genre. So I took a chance and threw it over the fence... and they're going to take it!

In celebration, I offer a glimpse and a snippet:

The humans had not ventured deep into the forest or far from their settlement; by the time Dauch caught sight of them, the scents of tilled land and crowded livestock were thick in the air. Dauch crouched in the lower limbs of a nearby tree -- humans never looked up -- and watched.

They were two, a male and a female. The female seemed nervous, almost as if she could scent Dauch, though he was upwind and humans were all but noseblind. The male intrigued him -- perhaps a few years older than Dauch himself, he was short, but his shoulders rivaled Morah's for breadth. Their garments were absurdly restrictive, though the male's sleeves had been rolled up to display bulging, rippling muscle.

He could not understand their speech, though its tone was clear enough. The female was uneasy, and the male attempted to reassure her. He wheedled, the woman resisted. Dauch wondered why he didn't just strike her into submission.

But he kissed her instead. After a moment, the female gave in, relaxing into the male's embrace. Their scents grew warm and strong with desire. The female sank to the ground, and allowed the male to loosen her clothes.

Dauch watched, fascinated. Beneath her ridiculous clothes, the female was plump and smooth. Her limbs were sleek and strong, her hips set broad. Her scent fairly begged for a child to be planted under her copper-colored mound. Dauch could not understand how the male could be so close and not obey its call.

But the male only kissed her, again and again. Dauch's hands curled and uncurled. Even without scent, could he not see that it was time to mount? Not even dumb animals were so stupid!

The male lowered his mouth to suckle at her breast like a hairless babe. Dauch nearly snorted his contempt, but the female tossed her head and cried out like no nursing mother Dauch had ever seen. What peculiar human ritual was this? Dauch crawled further out on his branch, curious.

The branch nearly gave way under him, shifting with a loud crack! Dauch froze.

Taste Test

Well, I did tell you that I'd have a snippet for you this week. In fact, I have two! And for an odd twist of fate, they're both m/f pieces.

The first is from my latest submission, "The Dancing Princess", which is a (mild) BDSM story about what happens after the "happily ever after" ending of "The Twelve Dancing Princesses". Though my story has the soldier marrying the youngest, rather than eldest, daughter, and the Wikipedia summary fails to capture the version I grew up with, in which the invisible soldier uses branches from the magic trees to whip the princesses as they run past him on their way home, a detail which has always stuck with me as particularly strange -- but which sparked this story when I saw the anthology call. That said, here's a little taste:

Numbly, I let them lead me through the rituals and pageantry; I waved and smiled at the thronging crowd, I followed meekly to the church, I repeated my vows for the priest, I sipped from the cup of wine (why, why had I not stayed to watch the man drink his sleeping draught?).

It wasn't until the priest pronounced us husband and wife that I began to awaken. My new husband took me in his arms and I steeled myself for the touch of his lips. It was no chaste kiss he gave me, there on the steps of the altar. Soldier that he was, he thrust his tongue into my mouth like a battering ram, and before I could begin to understand this intrusion, it was gone and instead his teeth closed on my lower lip hard enough that I squeaked in surprise and the beginning of fear. When he released me, the look he gave me was possessive and dark, perhaps even cruel. My innards fluttered and shuddered at that look.

The feast was a blur. My husband's eyes were on me constantly (did he think I would try to flee? I had more dignity than that) but he spoke to me only once, to introduce an old woman of his acquaintance. She patted my hand, cackled wordlessly, and nodded to him as if sealing some marketplace bargain.

Despite the limp in his wounded leg, my soldier led me through the dance well enough. If he was lacking in the smooth gentility of the courtiers who had taught me or the hectic joy of my lost partners of the Realm, I must admit there was something in the coarse grip of his hands at my waist that offered up a dim echo of the excitement I'd once felt, following in my sisters' wakes as we hurried toward our pleasures.

Eventually, the festivities were done, and we were shut into the bridal suite for the consummation, the moment I had been dreading. Clever he might be, but he was a soldier, a brute. My lip still stung from the kiss with which he had wed me; I did not dare contemplate what sort of assault he would mount on my other, more tender, parts.

Aw, don't worry about her too much. It ends well. ;-)

My other snippet for you is from my prompt story for this week from the project I'm doing with Lynn. I've been rather lax on these stories, I admit -- our self-imposed deadline for each week's story is Wednesday, but lately I've been squeaking in under the deadline and posting my story to our Dropbox folder late Wednesday night, rather than having it ready to go Wednesday morning. But yesterday promised to be a little slow, so I called for some prompts on my Facebook page that morning. The day did not live up to its promise of slowness, but I squeaked out my prompt anyway, when I was in between tasks and waiting on someone else for something urgent.

I'm not posting the whole thing here -- it's best not to post whole things if you hope to see them published, which is what Lynn and I are after. But it's called "Carnival Corners" and here's a nibble:

The crowd was applauding -- the band had finished their set. Belatedly, Jason joined in, summoned a smile and shifted his gaze so that when Caroline looked up at him, she would not realize he had been imagining the taste of the skin at the nape of her neck. But then she did look at him, that half-amused smile she nearly always wore when they were together, and he swallowed hard, suddenly aware that "lost in her eyes" had never been a poet's fanciful turn of phrase but the truth, the honest to God truth.

"What should we do next?" she said, and tucked her arm casually through his. Jason shivered inwardly. Four months now, or was it four and a half? -- and it still rocked him to feel her warmth so close, her body pressed against his. It made him want more, made his cock stir and his blood fizz. He couldn't wait to be alone with her again, to taste her skin, to kiss away that teasing smirk, to make her gasp and moan and finally cry out in passion and then bury himself in her still-quivering flesh and sate his own increasingly hot desire in her...

She was watching him again, amused. Was it wonderful or terrible that she found him so transparent? Sure enough: "We can't do that here," she said. "They'd kick us out of the carnival. Besides, a little anticipation is good for you."

His balls were already aching, but he thought she enjoyed making him wait nearly as much as she liked the sex itself... and God help him, he was beginning to enjoy it, himself -- the flirtation, the knowing looks, the taunts. It was as much an aphrodisiac as any perfume or striptease. Still, not all the barbs had to be hers. He bent to murmur in her ear, "Too bad there isn't a Tunnel of Love. Imagine how much fun that could be."

Caroline laughed, but Jason thought he had struck a mark: she liked playing with fire, liked slipping her hand surreptitiously under the table to touch him, and if she could make him stutter in the middle of a sentence, so much the better. She chastised him if he groped her ass in public, but it was with a spark in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

I admit it's inspired -- a very little bit -- by my own recent dating. I haven't been to a carnival in years and I'm not nearly as bold as Caroline, here, but I do like to tease. And, in fact, to be teased in return.

Iron Chef Erotica

One of the events I participated in at MarsCon this year was called Iron Chef Erotica -- writers who were challenged to write a flash-fic smut story based on a "secret ingredient". Y'all know I love writing promptfics; this seemed like a natural event for me to be in.

The winner is supposed to go on to Balticon to compete against the winners from several other small cons. Since I can't go to Balticon this year, I was originally assigned a judging position, but when a lot of folks had to drop out at the last minute, they brought me back in as a writer.

Good thing, too, as there were even more last-minute dropouts, and it turned out to be just me and Kathryn Lively writing. She won the contest, but it was moderately close, so I feel okay about it. Here's my (very) short and puntastic result:

Prompt word: Bridge

Kristen threw down her cards. "I am not going to understand this game in a million years," she grumbled. "Why can't your mother play something that makes sense, like Monopoly?"

"Would you really want to spend enough time with my mother to play a whole game of Monopoly?" Sean asked.

Kristen sighed. "Bridge it is," she said. "Tell me about no-trump again."

Sean put his own cards on the table. "It may be time for a break," he said.

Kristen knew the look on his face. "What sort of break?"

Sean drew her closer. "I was thinking about fewer spades and more hearts," Sean said, sliding out of his chair and sitting on the edge of the table.

Kristen leaned back in her chair. "I think you're thinking of your club."

Sean knelt between Kristen's legs. Watching her face, he slid his hands along her thighs, pushing her skirt up as he sought the soft, warm skin underneath. Her eyes closed and she purred quietly as his thumbs caressed her.

"No panties?" he said. "Aces."

"If you don't stop with the puns..." Kristen warned.

Sean chuckled. "I'll have to find something else to occupy my mouth, then." He ducked under her rumpled skirt and breathed warmly over her clit, until she let out a moan.

"More," she said.

More it was, the pressure of his tongue firm and rhythmic. Kristen clutched at the arm's of the chair, gasps turning into whimpers that spiraled into a thready keen of climax.

As Sean emerged, she gave him a thin smile. "Now THAT was a trump."

Duty and Desire: Release

Officially, Duty and Desire isn't released until next week, on the 13th, but the print version is already available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, and the Kindle/Nook versions are available for pre-order, so I figure I might as well jump up and show it off!

It's got a fantastic lineup of authors (including Lynn!) and it's been reviewed by freaking Publishers Weekly, who said:

...18 red-hot tales of men and women in uniform that range from WWII-era Russia to modern-day Afghanistan. While celebrating the valor, not to mention hotness, of those who serve their country, this anthology commendably covers darker issues, including post-traumatic stress syndrome and serious injuries, and love of all kinds, both straight and gay. ... This touching and realistic lineup is highly recommended.

How awesome is that, I ask you?!

So in celebration, how about a little excerpt from my story, "Dead On Her Feet"?

Jamie kept her eyes closed, even though the plane was descending and she couldn't sleep. Tired wasn't the word. Exhausted wasn't even the word. Dead on her feet came somewhere close. Non-essential travel, like finally coming home after two years in the God-forsaken desert, was slow. And frustrating. She'd caught a supply truck from her unit's camp that ran three hours into the city base, and then waited around for most of a day for a military transport plane that had room for her, which had flown eight hours to Germany. Then it was a bus to take her to the commercial airport in Munich, where not a single ticketing agent could be found who spoke English. She'd made do, though -- a soldier made do, even in some crazy backwater where a shovel-dug latrine was a luxury and female soldiers couldn't leave base without escort and even the kids you were there to help hated you for the uniform on your back.

But this was Germany, which was friendly and civilized and the only thing in the way was words. That was easy, even allowing for her being tired and discombobulated from travel already. She'd pulled out her Blackberry and loaded up an atlas and pointed and zoomed and pointed and zoomed until she'd finally made the crisply-dressed, ultra-polite young man understand her destination. Then it was commercial transport all the way, with its much more comfortable seats but its annoying security protocols (didn't they understand how goddamn hard it was to get in and out of combat boots?) and its annoyed civilians. Munich to London, London to New York, in and out of customs and security, retrieving and then re-checking her duffel every time she went through customs in a new country...

Thirty-four hours on the move, now, and counting, dead on her feet, but this was the last flight, and her ears were popping with the descent. Maybe another hour, now, and then she'd step out of the Atlanta airport into the lush thick humidity of proper Southern air, maybe even one of those summertime afternoon deluges and she would stand there and just let the rain soak her right to the skin. And then she'd take a bus a couple of hours down into Georgia, to a tiny little town that no one had ever heard of who hadn't been born there, and then it was only a couple of miles from the bus depot to Casey's mama's house. To Casey.

Eyes still closed, Jamie's hand stole up to her shirt pocket where she kept the most important things: her passport, and the receipts for all those planes and busses, and her ID cards, and the cash she'd drawn to pay for food... and the picture of her and Casey at his sister's wedding two years back. She'd looked ridiculous in that bridesmaid's dress with her fresh-from-basic close-cropped hair and those mannish muscles on her bare shoulders, but Casey had looked so very, very fine in that tux, and he'd pulled her close while they danced and told her she was the most beautiful woman there, and they'd snuck off down to the basement and almost not made it back in time to see the cake cut, and luckily the tux jacket had covered where she'd got lipstick on his cummerbund.

She didn't take it out, not here on the plane where everyone around her would be able to see her face, but she didn't need to. She'd looked at it so many times back in her sweltering bunk back at camp that she had it memorized. It was the image she called up in her mind's eye when she was trying to ignore hostile allies and murderous opponents, drinking two gallons of water a day just to keep her sweat glands from going into revolt, her teeth crunching on the nasty grey dust as she got into it yet again with those clowns from HQ who couldn't comprehend why shit kept breaking and she began to wonder if "back home" had ever even existed or if it had all been some kind of elaborate mirage or heatstroke hallucination.

I'll be the first to admit that this isn't the best story in the bunch -- it's a light, sweet aperitif or sorbet of a story; the other stories have more meat and spice and kick to them. Still, I quite like it. I like its rhythm, I like the way I managed to capture the way she's so tired she's babbling even in her head, and I like the little sparkles of humor and frustration that make it feel real to me.

And the other stories, with their meat and spice and kick, are even better. Go check it out!

Spooky Day

Happy Hallowe'en, my dears!

Check out this gorgeous, perfect Hallowe'en moon that was waiting for me when I got up this morning:

What shall we do to celebrate the day? How about another excerpt from my spookiest story, "Succubus, Inc."?

Lucy turns one final sheet. "And sign here, and date... Thank you, Mr. Field." Lucy takes the pen from Field's unresisting fingers and schools her expression to hide her sense of triumph as she adds her own signature to the page. "Now then, let's get started." She takes his hand and draws him toward the bedroom.

He follows, but now that he has signed, his feet drag. "I don't recall a no-harm clause," he hedges.

Lucy laughs. "Well, you have been a very naughty boy," she says. "Don't you think you deserve a little punishment?"

"I... I guess so."

"That's one," Lucy warns. "You will address me as Ms. Morgenstern, or Mistress. Do you understand?"

Field's expression is uncertain, but his eyes are dilated and Lucy can see the bulge of his cock pressing against his pants. "Yes, ma'am."

"Mistress. Not ma'am. That's two."

"Mistress!" Field corrects himself quickly.

Lucy smiles and positions him at the foot of the enormous bed. "Better. But for speaking without permission, that's three."

Field opens his mouth to protest, but realizes the trap and closes it again quickly.

"Clever boy," Lucy purrs. "Now take off your clothes."

Oh, Mr. Field, just what have you gotten yourself into?

Got My Hands On A Hard Co-

-py. Hard Copy. Where did you think that title was going? (I hope it was somewhere naughty.)

I got a package (heh) in the mail yesterday containing my two contributor copies of Seductress. That makes it the second time I've actually held a volume in my hands and seen my name in honest-to-gosh print! (And two more yet to come before the year is out!)

Oh, my goodness, this is a pretty book. And while the official release date isn't until next week, it looks like the print paperback is available now -- and is only one dollar more than the Kindle or Nook versions, in any case.

And for those of you who are following me here because you're loyal friends, but not really into the "gay romance" thing -- Seductress has no m/m stories in it (though I think there's one or two f/f), and leans far more on the "erotica" than the "romance" part of the genre. In fact, many of its stories (including my own "Succubus, Inc") are closer to erotic horror than erotic romance.

If you're intrigued, but not sure, come back next week -- I'll be posting some choice snippets from the story in celebration of the official release.

Dutiful

Picture via ABC News

I got the news last week that my short story "Dead On Her Feet" was accepted for Duty and Desire, an anthology of military-themed erotic romance! Any acceptance is good for a squee, but this is the second piece I've written that will appear in an actual, hold-in-your-hands dead-tree book, which makes it double-squee!

Better yet, I'll be sharing the Table of Contents with some really talented writers, including my dear friend, Lynn. Check out this Table of Contents:

The Long Ride Home by Delilah Devlin
Night Witch by Sacchi Green
Shattered by Shanna Germain
The Grunt and the Ditty Bop by Craig J. Sorensen
Fighting for Fresno by Ericka Hiatt
Homecoming by Kelly Maher
Passing Out Passion by Lucy Felthouse
Against the Wall by Catherine Paulssen
The Thunder of War by Anya Richards
Sergeant Rae by Toby Rider
Dead On Her Feet by Elizabeth L. Brooks
Out of Time by J.K. Coi
Done by Charlotte Stein
Wilco by Christine d’Abo
Christmas Presents by Mercy Loomis
Snake Dance by Lynn Townsend
Home by Michelle Augello-Page
For Better or Worse by Kristina Wright

This is from Cleis Press, so the stories are female-centric, either m/f or f/f. My story, "Dead On Her Feet" is about Jamie, a soldier on her way home after two years in the Middle East. Shall I give you a small taste? Sure, why not (though bear in mind that I haven't gotten editing comments back yet, so what I'm offering here may change before press):

Thirty-four hours on the move, now, and counting, dead on her feet, but this was the last flight, and her ears were popping with the descent. Maybe another hour, now, and then she'd step out of the Atlanta airport into the lush thick humidity of proper Southern air, maybe even one of those summertime afternoon deluges and she would stand there and just let the rain soak her right to the skin. And then she'd take a bus a couple of hours down into Georgia, to a tiny little town that no one had ever heard of who hadn't been born there, and then it was only a couple of miles from the bus depot to Casey's mama's house. To Casey.

Eyes still closed, Jamie's hand stole up to her shirt pocket where she kept the most important things: her passport, and the receipts for all those planes and busses, and her ID cards, and the cash she'd drawn to pay for food... and the picture of her and Casey at his sister's wedding two years back. She'd looked ridiculous in that bridesmaid's dress with her fresh-from-basic close-cropped hair and those mannish muscles on her bare shoulders, but Casey had looked so very, very fine in that tux, and he'd pulled her close while they danced and told her she was the most beautiful woman there, and they'd snuck off down to the basement and almost not made it back in time to see the cake cut, and luckily the tux jacket had covered where she'd got lipstick on his cummerbund.

Duty and Desire is due out sometime this fall -- I'll post a more precise date when I have one, and of course the cover when I get it.