Guess What's Out In Time For Christmas?

I didn't expect to see this book out until next year, but now you can pick it up in time to send it to the sweet and sexy loved one of your choice. Edited by Kristina Wright, it's a "candy sampler" or erotic and romantic flash fiction. xoxo: Sweet and Sexy Romance includes my story, "When the Vacation Is Over." Here's a snip:

It started when Amy took Paul's hand while standing in front of the enormous Buddha statue on Hong Kong's Lantau Island. If she had been home, she would never have done something like that. She would have focused on their differences — his dark skin compared with her light, his glasses versus her contacts, and his having traveled there as a sort of pilgrimage rather than, like her, visiting the statue simply because the guidebooks recommended it.

Now, in a foreign country, Amy's definition of common ground had transformed completely. She sat next to Paul on the crowded, careening bus to the Po Lin Monastery because he looked American, and smiled in genuine delight when she discovered they were from "the same place" — though normally she would have said South Florida and Central Florida might as well have been two different countries.

Standing on the steps leading up to the bronze statue's smiling abundance, taking pictures of each other, then angling their cell phones awkwardly to take pictures of themselves together, Amy glanced at Paul and saw in his face the same joy, freedom, and wonder she felt in her heart. She reached for him naturally, before she thought about it.

Out now from Cleis Press!

(Canceled) I'm Reading at the Museum of Sex!

Update: I just learned that the reading has been canceled. I'm leaving the post up because I think that is the less confusing way to do this. I will have to read dirty words to you people another time!



The fabulous Rachel Kramer Bussel has organized a reading for The Big Book of Orgasms, and I'm so excited to be participating. I'm also stoked to meet my fellow contributors in the flesh.

Here's the official blurb:

The Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories reading
Between the Covers at Museum of Sex, 233 Fifth Avenue, NYC (nearest trains: 28 St. (N, R)/28 St. (4, 6, 6X)/23 St. (N, R))
Join The Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories editor Rachel Kramer Bussel and contributors Andreas Amsterdam, T. Fox Dunham, Jeremy Edwards, Drew Griffiths, Thea Landen, Annabeth Leong, Lula Lisbon, Lillian Ann Slugocki, Suleikha Snyder and possibly a few others.

If you're in New York City at the time, I hope to see you there, too!

Girls Rule, Boys Drool by Lucy Felthouse

Today I've got information about Girls Rule, Boys Drool, a collection of three lesbian erotic short stories from the always amazing Lucy Felthouse.

Here's a description of each of the included stories:

Girls Rule, Boys Drool

Boyish dyke Toni is working at the local golf club, serving champagne to arrogant, privileged folk, when she spots Clarissa. She’s one of the posh people, but she looks like she’d rather be somewhere else—anywhere else. Toni’s immediately smitten and wants to put a smile on the older woman’s beautiful face, so she decides to show Clarissa just why girls rule and boys drool.

Making An Impression

Joely’s holiday has consisted mainly of chilling out by the hotel pool, having the occasional swim and reading lots. That is, until a hot brunette arrives and suddenly, Joely has trouble concentrating on anything else. Her gaydar non-existent, Joely decides on an unusual course of action to find out whether the newcomer bats for the same side as her.

Fear as an Aphrodisiac

Girlfriends Nikki and Sonya are on holiday in Edinburgh, Scotland’s capital city. They’re having fun sightseeing, until a super-scary tourist attraction sends Nikki into meltdown. Once outside again, Nikki slowly starts to feel better—and, much to her surprise, horny. Quickly realising that the fear has acted as a potent aphrodisiac, she decides to take advantage of that fact, right there in the middle of the city.

Available from:

Amazon UK

Amazon US

All Romance E-books

Coming soon to all other good eBook retailers.

Add to Goodreads

Excerpt:
Finally, Nikki and Sonya found the turning off Edinburgh’s Royal Mile that they needed. They’d expected a road, but Mary King’s Close was nothing more than a narrow passageway that looked like it led to the next street along. Glancing at one another, it seemed both girls suspected they were in the wrong place—despite the name of the alleyway—but as they headed along the close, they came across more signage and discovered they were wrong. The signs proclaimed that they were indeed at The Real Mary King’s Close, and this time they exchanged a relieved look and moved inside the tourist attraction.

After paying their money, they were put into a group that was already waiting, and after a few minutes was called to attention by a member of staff. The young man, dressed in incredibly old-fashioned attire welcomed them to the attraction and gave some brief information about what they should expect from the tour, as well as some health and safety spiel.

Then they were ushered deeper into the building and down some stairs. Another peculiarly-dressed actor met them and gave his talk. The group soon learned that Mary King’s Close had been a town of sorts, a collection of streets and houses, named after the most prominent local—Mary King. It had functioned well, this part of Edinburgh—in its day. But it had also befallen hard times and tragedy, including the Black Death. It was rumoured that people affected had been bricked into their houses to prevent the disease spreading further. It had never been confirmed nor denied, but the very idea sent a shiver down Nikki’s spine.

As they advanced into the underground town—now covered over by modern Edinburgh—they learned more about the inhabitants, their lives and, in some cases, their deaths. By the time they were shown the shrine of a young girl, covered with offerings both old and new, Nikki was clinging onto Sonya’s arm so hard that the other girl gave her a nudge.

“Oi, you’re hurting me! What’s the matter with you?”

“Sorry,” Nikki replied. “I’m getting a little creeped out, that’s all.”

“A little? The way you’re squeezing my arm, I’m beginning to think you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“I said I’m sorry. God. Don’t you think it’s spooky down here?”

A meaningful glance from the tour guide shut them up. Nikki dropped her hand to Sonya’s and held it. The group continued through the subterranean labyrinth, listening to more tales of the past, the things that had happened within the very place they stood, over four hundred years ago.

Some periods of total darkness with recounts of history later, and Nikki was a nervous wreck. She’d always had an overactive imagination, and although she’d never seen a ghost—despite Sonya’s words—she believed in them and was really succumbing to the eeriness of the ancient place. She had gotten to the stage where she fully expected to see the spectre of little Annie—having left the site of her shrine—peering around a corner, beckoning to her. Or the chilly finger of a plague victim trailing down the back of her neck. She grew so paralyzed with fear that she fell silent and didn’t take in a word of the rest of the excursion—simply holding onto Sonya’s hand as they walked through the rooms and tunnels.

When they eventually emerged into the outside world once more, Nikki heaved a sigh of relief. “Sonya, darling, take me for a drink, now. A stiff one. A double vodka and coke sounds perfect right now. Maybe even a triple.”

“Were you really that scared?” The other woman looked disbelieving.

“What do you mean, were? I still bloody am. I’m sure I’d have found it interesting if I wasn’t so busy being terrified. I’m surprised I didn’t wet myself.”

“Aww, babe.” Sonya pulled the other girl into her arms. “I didn’t realise you hated it that much. We could have left if I’d known.”

“No,” Nikki shook her head. “It’s okay, I didn’t want to ruin it for you. I just got to the stage where I blocked it all out. But I’d still really like a drink, if you don’t mind.”

Sonya gently pushed Nikki against the wall of the alleyway and hugged her once more. “Okay, we’ll go for a drink soon. Let me hold you for a few minutes, first.”

The other girl said nothing, just relaxed into her lover’s embrace and slowly, very slowly, felt the fear ebbing away. With not a small amount of horror, she realised that she was turned on. Her knickers were damp and sticking to her, and the heat emanating from between her legs was unmistakable. What the actual fuck? She kept quiet, instead nuzzling into Sonya’s neck and pressing a kiss to the delicate skin there.

“Ooh,” Sonya said, shuddering, “that was lovely. What was that for?”

“For being nice.” Nikki’s voice was muffled, and she kissed her girlfriend again.

“Hey,” Sonya said, grabbing Nikki’s hands and squeezing them, “you’d better stop that, otherwise I’m going to get turned on. And that’s the last thing you want right now. I’m trying to be understanding here, sweetheart.”

Nikki came to the conclusion that she didn’t mind if Sonya got turned on, not at all. In fact, some sexy fun might just take her mind off the creepy underground place they’d just visited. It was damn weird that being scared had turned her on, but the more she thought about it, the more she figured it kinda made sense. Nothing, in her opinion, was scarier than death, and the French word for orgasm translated to ‘the little death’—so it was widely accepted that sex and death were connected. Sex was about life, death was about, well, death. So, in an attempt to stop thinking about things that confused the hell out of her, she was going to embrace life, wholeheartedly. And if that meant experiencing the little death, then so be it.

“I don’t mind,” she whispered into Sonya’s ear.

“What do you mean, sweetie?” Sonya replied, grabbing her shoulders and moving her back so she could look at her face. “You don’t mind what?”

“I don’t mind you getting turned on.”

Author bio

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over eighty publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Music Mondays: "Atlas Air" by Massive Attack

"It took all the man in me to be the dog you wanted me to be." -- Massive Attack



I once heard the Massive Attack singer's voice as "wet-panty inducing," and I think of that every single time I listen to this song. Because it's true. Enjoy.

She Who Must Be Obeyed

Sometime in 2014, I'll be part of a collection from Lethe Press called She Who Must Be Obeyed: Femme Dominant Lesbian Erotica, edited by the fantastic D.L. King.

This is from the original call for submissions:

There’s something about a hot, sexy woman in a pencil skirt, flawlessly made-up, wielding a riding crop. Well, I think there is. I know, for me, sometimes it’s hard to decide between the black leather pencil skirt and the black rubber one. You know what I mean. I’m talking about a woman worshipped by girls, bois and butch bottoms, alike; I’m not particular – well, not that particular.

Tell me stories about women who can silence a room simply by entering it. What’s it like when a mere glance can make you weak in the knees and a stare will put you in your place – at her feet. I’m looking for power exchange as seen from either the femme’s point of view or her worshipper’s.

I've gotten permission to share the table of contents, and I'm so excited looking at this list. I'll post more information when I've got it!

Noir by Valerie Alexander

The Nose Art Gal by Mary Tintagel

Uncharted Territory by Evan Mora

Grace: Under Pressure by D. L. King

The Bullwhip and the Bull Rider by Sacchi Green

Demo Model by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Too Old for This by Giselle Renarde

The Dame by Styx St. John

Triptych by Lula Lisbon

Angel on Fire by Jessica Lennox

Mares in Heat by Evey Brett

Tears from Heaven by Jean Roberta

Bleed by Teresa Noelle Roberts

Evelyn Gets Ready by Annabeth Leong

Anger Management by Beth Wylde

Garden Party by Karen Taylor

Prima by Katya Harris

The Ride by Kathleen Delaney-Adams

Stretch by Kathleen Tudor

Silvia by River Light

The book is available for preorder here.

Risk Rider and Dare Take the Con

This weekend, Coming Together: For Equality released, edited by the fabulous Beth Wylde. Like all of Coming Together's books, it supports a good cause—in this case, Planting Peace—Equality House. Every story is also written to an anti-bullying theme.

This book is so hot and so important, people. I talk often about how erotica saved my life, and this is a great example. Erotica is how I've claimed who I am, how I've come to terms with myself in a true, brave way, and many of these stories are on a similar theme.

My story is called "Risk Rider and Dare Take the Con," and as I was working on it I realized how much I needed to write it.

I've been a geek girl all my life, and I've dealt with a lot of nonsense from other geeks. For all that the geek community prides itself on being accepting, I've found that this often translates to expecting everyone to put up with bad behavior from jerks (who are excused with whispered explanations about how "he's just socially awkward"). In the past year or so, there's been a lot of discussion of harassment at cons, and that's the thing that came to mind when I saw the call for Coming Together: For Equality. I'm not a cosplayer—I'm afraid I don't have the skills—but I have borrowed friends' costumes a few times and I admire the work and devotion that cosplayers put in.

Here's an excerpt of my story. It's about how two characters' embrace of their erotic selves gives them the strength to deal with harassment at a comic convention.

When Jamie-Lyn complained about convention harassment with her friends at home, they could never understand why she put herself through it at all. She'd struggled to explain herself, trying to describe how good it felt to wear a costume so well-made that she could believe she actually was the motorcycle-riding hero of her dreams, how it changed the way she walked and talked and felt about herself. She was funnier when she dressed as Risk Rider, she told her friends, because she adopted the character's sardonic humor. She didn't take shit from people—after all, she'd actually shoved that guy just now, instead of looking down and skulking away the way Jamie-Lyn at home would have done. And she did feel sexy, though that didn't mean she wanted to be harassed by every single douchebag at the con.

That last part usually made friends wrinkle their brows in concern. Some people tried to gently inform her that dressing in full-body leather and going out in public might sort of be seen as inviting attention from the douchebags. If she didn't want the attention, why did she wear the costume?

Jamie-Lyn couldn't hold back a little growl of anger. She shrugged off Risk Rider's motorcycle jacket, embellished with exuberant streaks of blood-red stars, and folded it over one arm. She would go back to her room, change into jeans and a con T-shirt, and try to enjoy the event by blending into the crowd for once. She would do this and it would be a relief, and the tears currently threatening to pour down her cheeks were not telling her otherwise. They were not.

"I dare you to dress like a girl," someone said from a few feet away, using that taunting, scornful voice that had become all too familiar. In the mood she was in, she wanted to just keep walking to the elevator bank as quickly as possible, but something about the way the sentence was delivered made her pause. The guy speaking had emphasized the word "dare," almost as if...

Jamie-Lyn looked up, and sure enough the jerk was in the process of tormenting a cosplayer dressed as Dare, Risk Rider's wife and crime-fighting partner. The first thing Jamie-Lyn noticed was how nicely the leather was stitched. A home sewing machine could handle light leather, but not always well, and this costume showed none of the telltale bunching that appeared when a machine too weak for the job began to seize up. The person who made this costume either had an industrial machine or the patience of a saint. Also, this was Jamie-Lyn's favorite version of Dare, replicating the costume the heroine wore after a redesign intended to make her look more realistically badass. It was tight and tailored, but would actually provide protection if Dare fell off her bike.

The cosplayer was a man, and Jamie-Lyn felt a little respect rise in her chest. Female cosplayers took all kinds of nonsense for daring to go around dressed up in public, and the only people who had to deal with as much crap—and sometimes even more—were men who dared to put on female characters' costumes non-ironically. She wanted to talk to this guy, maybe trade leather-working tips, and maybe even take a picture together. Jamie-Lyn had been photographed a few times at cons standing next to a Dare, but she liked the symmetry she'd get next to a man in a Dare costume.

Also, this man looked good. He was slim enough that Dare's skintight leather pants looked great hugging his ass and thighs. Big, dark eyes, high cheekbones, and a chin that came to a sharp point made for a slightly feminine face that made Jamie-Lyn think all the more about how its owner was a man. He wore Dare's leathers exactly the way that Jamie-Lyn had always imagined the heroine would—with a lot of energy, a little sass, and just the right amount of negligence. Dare was a tech expert as well as a biker, and often went out still half-involved in her latest project. This guy had left his hair uncombed and wore a soldering iron strapped to his waist. It was a great effort, and Jamie-Lyn couldn't wait to introduce herself.

She took a step closer, then frowned when she remembered what had drawn her attention in the first place. The guy harassing Dare hadn't backed off, and in fact, judging by the way he glanced around for support, he was in the process of showing off for a group of his friends. The bully noticed Jamie-Lyn approaching, and an ugly smile spread over his face.

"I see your husband's coming to pick you up, little girl." The guy got in Dare's face and shoved him once in the chest, hard enough to make the costumed man step back. The cosplayer's hands fisted at his sides, and Jamie-Lyn got the idea that he knew how to defend himself if pushed too far. Still, she didn't want him to feel as alone as she had all morning.

Jamie-Lyn sighed. This attacker got points for actually knowing the comic, then lost them all for being a towering jerk.

"Are you going to cry like a girl?"

The guy also seemed to think that all he had to do to win the insult game was say the word "girl" repeatedly. Jamie-Lyn steeled herself for confrontation and went to stand beside Dare. "Our friend already went to get con security," she told the guy in a low voice. "How about you leave us alone? They've got a zero-tolerance policy here, and you'll forfeit your admission fee." She hoped the guy didn't call her bluff. The con security volunteers she'd met so far were well-meaning but overworked. They did their best to enforce policies, but there weren't enough of them. Jamie-Lyn had yet to encounter one that day, despite the many harassers she'd found instead.

The attacker muttered something, and Jamie-Lyn held her breath, uncertain of which way this situation would go. Then someone else walked up to them, and Jamie-Lyn dared to hope that for once this would be a decent person. "Risk Rider and Dare! You guys look awesome!"

You can read the rest of the story in Coming Together: For Equality and support a great cause in the process.

Guest Post: A.M. Hartnett on Here For A Good Time

I'm very pleased to welcome A.M. Hartnett to my blog today, talking about her latest release, Here For A Good Time. We've been anthology friends several times, and she has an awesome blog (The Bewildered Writer), writes awesome stories, and somehow makes her heroes sound so real that I get jealous that mine don't seem quite that forcefully alive. I asked her to tell us about the scene that defined this work for her, and she's come through with exactly the sort of story that makes me a little envious.

Without further ado, I'll pass the floor to her!

A.M. Hartnett:

When Annabeth suggested I talk about that moment when the story clicked into place for me, I knew exactly the moment of the story that this happened.

Like most of the stuff I've published, Here For A Good Time languished in my to-do pile for years. Every so often I would pull it out and have a look, but I'd just get so frustrated and overwhelmed with trying to make it happen that I'd close it and move on to something else. For the longest time, poor Alexis sat on the balcony of The Deveaux resort hotel, waiting for something to happen.

Then, one day, it happened. Someone joined her on the balcony. This person wasn't special or anything, just one of her co-workers who was going to act as a giant sex toy for the next scene, after which Alexis would go about her business with the bossman. Chris Kendrick, bit player, human dildo.

The next scene was the scene. Goodbye Mr. Kendrick, hello sexytimes with the bossman, but when it came time to put Alexis in the backseat of a hired car with her boss, guess who jumped in with her?

I tried to backtrack. I tried to push him into the background, but he wouldn’t budge. This was his conquest, his woman, his story, and I could either go with it or go write something else.

Excerpt:

‘Allow me.’

Kendrick brushed past her and pulled open the door of the taxi.

She smiled, the picture of politeness, but inside she simmered. The rest of the team had already piled into the other two cars and were headed down The Deveaux’s long driveway. Kendrick had been the last to come down the steps, and so it would just be the two of them on the ride over.

As their car motored towards the main road, she suffered throb after agonising throb at the thought of his tongue snaking around her clit. She squeezed her thighs together and tapped her watch impatiently.

The cab merged with traffic. Kendrick nudged her knee with his. ‘What have you been doing to amuse yourself since I left?’

She loved the naughty tone in his voice and had to bite down on her giggle. Though still insufferable, he had certainly grown on her since that afternoon.

‘Nothing exciting.’

‘Nothing at all?’

Alexis was grateful for the shadows in the back of the car. Her cheeks caught on fire as his question brought a sudden surge of recollection: long fingers stroking her G-spot and a hard cock filling her mouth.

She shook her head and let her hair fall over her eyes. ‘I’ve been a very good girl, Kendrick.’

‘Jesus, I wish you’d stop calling me Kendrick. I have a name.’ He moved closer, arm sliding around her shoulders to pull her closer.

‘I’ve been calling you Kendrick for almost three years now. I’m not likely to break it after – so soon. Besides, you insist on calling me Miss Shea.’

‘I think I’m going to have to come up with some more creative names for you now.’ He nuzzled his face into her hair. ‘After the way you sucked on me, “Lollipop” seems fitting.’

‘Shush.’ She turned and found her mouth sinfully close to his. ‘The driver …’

‘I’m sure he’s heard worse.’ Kendrick’s hot breath skittered across her chest and drew gooseflesh to the surface. ‘You’re the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.’

‘I’m glad you approve, but it is pretty tame.’

‘Bullshit. Those are fuck-me shoes if I’ve ever seen them. Makes me want to give you a little something to keep you satisfied until after dinner.’

A smudge of shadow shifted, and then there was his hand on her ribs. She brought her hand up and pressed it against his chest. Sensation sizzled along her arm as her fingertips brushed the curls where his shirt was open at the neck.

That look. Even in the semi-dark, she knew it. The prelude to something. Something soft. Something wet. Something wicked.

Blurb:

When Alexis booked her work retreat at The Deveaux, the most she had to look forward to was a bit of spa time on the company dime, but flashy salesman Chris Kendrick has an even better suggestion. For years they’ve had a hot and cold working relationship with a bit of flirting mixed in, and now is the perfect time to get that spark out of their systems.

Three days hopping in and out of beds (and other convenient places) shows Alexis that Kendrick’s smooth demeanour is more than just talk, and that aromatherapy and soft-tissue massages have nothing on Kendrick’s firm hand.

Links

Web
Twitter
Facebook

Amazon

About:

A.M. Hartnett began writing in 2006 and has published more than thirty short stories. Her work has appeared in more than a dozen anthologies, including Cleis Press’s Sudden Sex: 69 Sultry Short Stories (Ed. Alison Tyler), and The Big Book of Orgasm: 69 Sexy Stories (Ed. Rachel Kramer Bussel). She has also written three novellas and a novel as Annemarie Hartnett. For more information on her publications, please visit www.amhartnett.com

***

Yeah, after that excerpt I'm a goner. Why did Amazon invent one-click purchasing?