Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Soothsayer Ch. 9, Pt. 2

Notes: Another Tuesday, another chapter! This one isn't so long, but it's chock full of revelations that I hope you enjoy. It's almost New Year's, and I'm going to have an enormous, prize-filled contest on the 1st, so keep looking in, darlins. Also, I swear, there'll be a picture of me in a dress as soon as I bloody get one back from somebody who had a camera.

Title: Soothsayer Chapter 9, Part 2.


“I’ve led this empty life for over forty years, and now I can pass that heritage on and ensure that the misery will continue for at least one more generation.” – Larry David

“Six Flags?” Phin repeated. “The theme park?”

“That’s the one.”

The silence was a little longer this time. “I don’t need to know,” Phin muttered to himself at last. “He’ll be there. Look for a rainbow-colored beater with a decal of a mustang on the hood.”

And I was the child here? “Um…okay.”

Saturday, December 27, 2014

Mid-Holiday Post: Hi!

Hi guys!

So, I didn't get a post out on Christmas, and although I plan on doing a big one for the New Year, with lots of sharing and excitement and possibly a giveaway, I thought I'd add my two cents now.

First off: Happy Holidays to everyone! I hope your season has been beautiful and full of delight. My man and I spent Christmas alone this year, after hosting a huge number of people last weekend for the wedding. Want to see a picture of my pretty sister and her husband on their wedding day?


She and I look just alike, except for the whole tall, thin and redheaded thing. I love the guy she married, he's fantastic, and we're so happy to have him in the family now. I'll post a picture of myself once I have a decent one. We got this from a friend of hers, not the actual photographer.

My folks are coming back for one night, on the 1st, before they fly back to Germany on the 2nd, so we'll get a little more time with them one-on-one. It's kind of odd, honestly. I love my parents and have all sorts of thing I could be sharing with them about my life, but don't, because I know they wouldn't really like learning that I won a Rainbow Award for lesbian fiction this year. Or, well, all sorts of things. Someday I'll be able to share everything without worrying about it, but for now...I just share with you guys!

Speaking of you guys, yeah, I've decided it, there will be a contest starting on the 1st, because you all are wonderful and deserve nice things. More about how fantastic I find you later.


Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Soothsayer Ch. 9, Pt. 1

Notes: Well, I survived the wedding! The weather was gorgeous, just enough snow to make the mountains look scenic but not intimidating. My little sister was a beautiful bride. Because I'm ridiculously happy about it all, I'll post pictures later once guests are home and putting stuff I can pull from up on Facebook. And look, more Soothsayer! We're lightening the mood significantly. I hope you enjoy it, darlins;)

Title: Soothsayer Chapter 9, Part 1.


“The greater part of our happiness or misery depends on our dispositions and not on our circumstances.” – Martha Washington

                When I woke up, Sören was gone. My first instinct was to run out and check the parking lot, because if he’d abandoned me after the fiasco that was last night I didn’t know what I’d do. Die, probably, after a lot of melodramatic running and screaming. Nothing about that thought appealed, so I closed my eyes again, took a deep breath and ran my hand over the other half of the bed. Still warm. Okay, that was good, he hadn’t been gone long.

Friday, December 19, 2014

Update and a New Story Excerpt

Hi guys!

So, the whole family is here now. Last night my parents had a party (in our house) for 20 of their closest friends, and today there's spa-ing and the rehearsal at the church and then the rehearsal dinner, and then tomorrow, starting at 7am, we're jumping down the rabbit's hole of wedding prep.

I thought about adding a bunch of freaking-out gifs, or big piles of wedding cake and people falling down drunk, but honestly I'm having a pretty good time. Everyone who didn't come to my wedding is at this one, so I'm seeing family from all over the world. My sister's fiance is a great guy, and his family is lovely, so there's a lot to like and plenty I'm comfortable ignoring right now.

I'll add some photos of the event after tomorrow, once we get it out of the way. Those of you who've done this sort of thing before know that it's a time sap, so I'm not getting any writing done until people are gone. However, I was convinced by a friend to send a short novella I wrote for something else in to Dreamspinner this week. It's a genderbending, modern-day retelling of the myth of Hades and Persephone, and I'm kind of in love with it. I'm going to give you guys a little excerpt today because, darn it, I'm in a good mood and so should we all be! I've no idea if it'll get accepted, I should find out in a month or so, but at least I'm putting new stuff out there.

Have a wonderful weekend, darlins'!


The last farmer’s markets of the year are always the best, in my opinion.

Autumn is the season of abduction, the gasping end of summer’s time of plenty, when everything living in the ground exerts itself with one final burst of fecundity before going gently into that dark wintery sleep. The stalls of the local farmer’s market are filled with produce, fruits that are smaller than their early counterparts but all the sweeter for it and greens that have just barely avoided being touched with frost. It’s the season of preserves, jams and jellies, pickles and sauerkraut stacked in bright clean jars on orange and red tablecloths. It’s the season of keeping and consideration. Even though I know I can get almost anything I want from the local supermarket, even though I could certainly grow it myself if I took the time to build a proper greenhouse here, I like the sense of scarcity. The culinary specificity, as it were.

One of the booths has bottles of last year’s ice wine on display. To make ice wine the grapes have to freeze on the vine, literally perish of the cold, before they’re harvested and pressed. It makes the wine uniquely sweet. I don’t normally drink but something about the metaphor moves me. I buy a bottle and continue my ramble, enjoying the sights and scents of people and dogs—so many dogs, it seems like everyone in this town has one—pushed together in such a small space. Boulder’s farmer’s market is hosted on a small stretch of street between a park and an art museum. Next to the art museum is an ornamental tea house and I’m tempted by it, a chance to escape the chill, but it’s not so bad out that I can’t browse a little longer.

There are stalls making artisanal pizzas baked on the spot, or empanadas, kebabs or gyros, each one with vegetarian options. Children run from the bakeries to the florists to the puppy tied up in the shadow of a tree behind one of the vendors. People jostle for space in front of the booths, hands reaching for samples, voices raised in conversation, debate and laughter. It’s nice. Lively. I like the energy of it, being in such a crowd. Sometimes I feel like a battery, and that I need to be part of a group to properly recharge. Being in a greenhouse gives me the same buzz, and without the headaches that can come when I linger with noisy people a little too long, but I haven’t put down roots here. I won’t. This is a break from my regular life, a stutter in the breath of responsibility that normally fills me and gives me purpose. I like it here, but I can’t maintain it. Have to enjoy it while I can.

I buy a kebab from one of the food vendors, meat so tender the first bite literally melts in my mouth, breaking to pieces under the gentle pressure of my tongue. It’s blissful, and I shut my eyes to savor the flavors more fully. Lamb with a Moroccan flair: I taste coriander and cumin, the heat of ginger and the sweet bite of cinnamon. I finish my bite and reach for another.

Only my wooden skewer is empty. I stare at it for a moment, then down at the dog sitting at my feet, its jaws wide open in a grin. It’s a pitbull, I think, or maybe a pitbull cross of some kind, charcoal gray with two white spots on either side of its muzzle. It looks very pleased with itself, and so it should, I reflect as I shake my head and throw my skewer in the nearby trash can. “Well played.”

A tall man in black jeans and a dark brown Henley is striding toward us, his expression on the grim side. “I’m so sorry,” he says once he’s close enough to be heard over the crowd. His voice is a pleasant baritone, with the slightest hint of an accent I can’t quite place. “Bear got away from me. Please tell me he didn’t knock you down searching for a treat.”

“Nothing so dire.” I pat the dog—Bear—on the head, and his owner sighs.

“That’s a polite way of saying that he did get something from you. If my dog ate your lunch, the least I can do is replace it.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“Please, I insist.”

I look at the man, look a little deeper for the first time. There’s a veneer of irritation over his face, but beneath that I get a sense of depth, of layers. Irritation, affection for the dog, pleasure at a new, impromptu meeting, and…I pull back. It’s none of my business.

“Well, if you insist.”

“I do.” He glances behind me at the kebab shop. “Although the line here has grown very long. We may as well sit down if we’re going to eat properly.”

I’d been thinking of stopping at the tea house anyway, but… “Will they let you in with Bear?”

“Possibly. If not, then we’ll sit outside. There are heaters set up beside the tables.” He holds his hand out to me, palm facing more up than sideways. When I take it I almost expect him to raise my knuckles to his lips. The thought makes me blush a little, and I hope he doesn’t see it. “Felix Clymenus.”

“Lee Summers.” We shake, and his lip curls slightly.

“A pleasure, Mr. Summers, despite our unorthodox meeting.”

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Soothsayer Ch. 8, Pt. 2

Notes: So, not a super long one today. My parents are in town, the wedding is nigh, there are many preparations and not a lot of time, but I think it's still an interesting addition. Plus there's a song link! It's an Icelandic lullaby that I reference down below. It's beautiful, but kind of haunting. Anyway. Story for you. Happy Tuesday, darlins!

Title: Soothsayer, Chapter 8, Part 2.

(The link to the lullaby)

“Brute nature has been known to yield to the influence of love.” – Mahatma Gandhi

The smart thing to do would have been to keep going, in line with my original plan. After what happened with the cop though, my eyes burned like my body was trying to cry and my magic just wouldn’t let it. The guilt didn’t abate after two hours, and I wasn’t about to hand the keys over to Sören again, so I pulled off the highway at the next hole-in-the-wall motel I saw.

“Why are we stopping?”

I didn’t say anything, just got out of the car and slammed the door shut. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to that fucking dick right now. I headed into the tiny front office, where a boy who couldn’t be more than eighteen looked up from his video game a little incredulously. “Seriously?”

Friday, December 12, 2014

New Release: Devout

Hi guys!

Okay, so technically I've got a new release today. I mean, today's the day its supposed to be available. Due to personal issues, the press hasn't been able to get everything together, so right now it's still up for pre-order and may not be available for download until the end of the weekend. But! Pre-order means that it's cheaper to purchase, so there's that.

Also, I really liked the theme, which is basically sexy priests. I didn't quite use a priest in my story, but he's close! And he's hanging out with bad company.

Let me tell you more:

Tyson may be the Son of a Preacher Man, but he's certainly no saint. Exorcising demons is taxing work, and his partner, Seb, certainly knows how to relieve the tension. Their latest assignment seems ordinary enough, but Seb's connection to this particular hellspawn means Ty might have to strike a deal, and the terms will be questionable at best.

That's the website blurb. Additionally, it's a spin-off of the Cambion universe, so there is mention of Rio and Devon if you're a fan of those guys.  Want an excerpt? I feel you should have an excerpt. And here's the link to the pre-order, if you're interested. There are also stories by Angelia Sparrow, DK Jernigan, Ann Anderson and Annabeth Leong, it's a pretty decent lineup.


I wasn’t about to walk into an exorcism smelling like come.  I took five minutes to be as thorough as I could stand to be with the water, which never managed to get more than lukewarm, and some uncomfortably rough paper towels before heading back outside toward the car.  At least Seb had warmed it up.

And turned on the radio.  I hated giving him control of the radio; he always searched around for the song he knew would piss me off the most and stuck there.  I sighed and pulled out onto the highway.

“The only boy who could ever reach me,” crash-bam, “was the son of a preacher man!  The only boy who could ever teach me, oh-oh, was the son of a preacher man!  Yes he was, he was, oh yes he was,” bang-bang-bang on the dashboard.  “Sweet talkin’ son of a preacher man, ooh, oooohh—”
I turned off the radio.  Seb’s dark eyes flashed to me, and he pouted dramatically.  “Ty, I was listening to that.”

“You were butchering that.”

“I beg your pardon?  I sing like a choir of angels.  I should know.”

“Funny thing,” I told him as I took the next exit for Couer D’Alene, “the metaphor doesn’t get any more ironic the more often you tell it.”

“No, but your appreciation of it increases, which makes it worth the telling,” Seb said with a grin.  “Besides, I still hold out hope that you’ll learn to love that song.  It’s like your theme song.  Son of a preacher man,” he sang at me, mocking and serious all at once.  His voice really was beautiful, a perfect dramatic contralto that suited the body he was wearing right now, that of a sweet-faced young man, gangling and loose-jointed.  His hair was a mess of short black spikes, and he wore silver rings through his nose, both eyebrows and along both ears.  All he needed to complete the punk ensemble was a cigarette, but I never let Seb smoke in the car.  I had to have some boundaries, damn it.

And I’d never learn to love that song.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Soothsayer Ch. 8, Pt. 1

Notes: More Soothsayer, and the competition is taking an interesting turn. Also a kind of sad one. I had no idea it would happen until I wrote it, blame the boys.

Title: Soothsayer, Chapter 8, Part 1.


“You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else.” – Albert Einstein

                Going from the incredibly optimistic app on my phone, it should have taken about 18 hours to drive from Illinois to the tiny town of Santa Rosa, New Mexico, home of the Blue Hole and, occasionally, Bobby Garcia. Bobby was the man I needed to see about nature magic, so New Mexico was where we had to go. One really long day, maybe two if we were wasting time sleeping and eating, and then we’d be there.


                “You should let me drive,” Sören said once it was after midnight and the highway had cleared off a bit. We were headed south toward Missouri—it wouldn’t be long before we crossed the border and hopefully made it that much harder for Papa Egilsson and his crew of vicious offspring to find us.


Monday, December 8, 2014

Rainbow Award Win!

What is this madness, people!?!

December is apparently a winning month for me. This is karma paying me in advance for the trials and tribulations that are coming next week, I'm sure. But still, wow!

Caitlin Ricci and I took first place in the Rainbow Awards' Best Lesbian Contemporary/Erotic Romance category for our novel Camellia. We also tied for third in Best Lesbian Novel overall. This is especially amazing to me because I don't write a lot of lesbian romance--hardly any--and most of you read me for my M/M, my science fiction, my...anything but lesbian romance. Especially contemporary, BDSM lesbian romance. And yet! People had really lovely things to say, which I'm going to share because darn it, I'm proud.

Camellia is a beautiful, delicate story that unfolds with the same languid, graceful pacing of a Japanese tea ceremony...and like the ancient art of the ceremony, will engage every one of your senses by the time it concludes. The memory will linger as well, with surprising, subtle strength. And lest you think this story is a snoozefest, I’d best mention the sex was hot enough to leave me wishing for a fan. No fooling.

I normally do not read lesbian novels or BDSM. The genres are not my usual preference. However, after reading this book (first in a series), I was genuinely pleased with the dynamic, tight writing style, the beautiful explaination and demonstration of the BDSM lifestyle, and the introduction into the beauty of tea service. Lucy & Danny are two characters I am willing to visit again & delve deeper into their story.

A book about tea but this romance is so much more than that. Lust swirled between these two characters that exploded off the page and kept me spellbound. With a promising ending, I wanted to read more about these characters and I dreaded getting closer to the end.

I know a book is good when it makes me a fan of a lifestyle that I usually don't find attractive or interesting. BDSM is usually not my scene at all and also if it's a setting so explored and exploited nowadays in literature, a really few reads have been able to engage me during their reading, but this book is one of the winners!

As a member of the BDSM community and a Dom I often cringe when I read books that contain BDSM/Kink elements. I especially cringe when these stories attempt to delve into the mindset of a Dom because they so often get them wrong. However, this story did such a gloriously, magnificent job on both of these jobs that I found myself hard-pressed to put the book down even when I had to go to sleep.

So, there you go! If anyone is interested in reading Camellia, you can find it at Less Than Three Press: Camellia. It's on sale right now, so good timing.

Well. So. Yeah, that happened.

**On a side note, I'd like to say that I've fulfilled a personal goal of mine by both winning a Rainbow Award and being featured in a personal defense magazine article on wielding a knife against a left-handed attacker. Yes, that's right, I've got layers!

Friday, December 5, 2014

Two Neat Things

Hi guys!

So, there are two things in my writing life that I should really be sharing. The first is, I've got a story coming out next Friday in Storm Moon Press' Devout anthology. It contains five stories, and mine is an offshoot of my Cambion universe (much like Soothsayer--obviously I have a hard time letting go of my creations, how long have I been writing in the Bonded/Pandora/Paradise universe now? Five years?). Here's a description of the antho, along with a link to buy it:

Let's face it; spirituality can be sexy. That goes double for men of the cloth, who display such passion and devotion toward their chosen deities. For some, nothing is more erotic than men dedicating their lives to faith and service. However, even the most pious men aren't above temptation, and the men of Devout find themselves more than eager to explore a more carnal interpretation of worship. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy five doses of old-time religion spiked with erotic intrigue and a delicious hint of sin that will have you reaching for some holy water, preferably with ice.

This story is the last one I'm publishing with Storm Moon Press, who due to personal issues are closing their doors. I'll put an excerpt of my story up on release day. Yay new releases!

The other neat thing is that a piece of flash fiction I wrote just won Queer Sci Fi's flash fiction contest. The theme was "endings" and we had 300 words to do it in, so hey, let me give you a story!

It’s time to close the crypt. Dayell knows it. Less than two minutes to midnight, and his men are giving him concerned looks. Time to close the crypt, or when Jen’s soul breaks free from his corpse it will seek out the nearest vessel and overwhelm it. It has to be contained, entombed for all eternity, or it will winnow through the living like a scythe as it seeks vengeance. It’s time to close the crypt, but Dayell just can’t do it yet.
Dead by dark magic, denied his rightful journey to the Halls of Valor…it should never have happened this way. Jen had scorned magic, teased Dayell for his precautions against it. “Magic means nothing against hot blood and hard steel,” he’d murmured in the night when Dayell fretted, smiling lips close to his ear. “Magic will fall to will every time.” Magic was a fretful, vulnerable thing, it was true…but even so it was dangerous. Dayell had known how dangerous, but was unable to convince Jen. Unable to save him.
“Day,” his second warns, and he sluggishly rouses himself to lay hands on the cold stone. It’s time to close the crypt, to lock Jen in tight, leave his spirit hopeless and raging…no, he can’t do it. He just can’t. But if he doesn’t, then his men’s lives may be forfeit.
But he can be the vessel, Jen’s second chance for vengeance and valor. Jen won’t hurt him, not after everything they’ve been to each other. He can feel the moment coming, the air thickening with power. He heaves on the stone, rolling it over smoothly, closing off the crypt but leaving just a crack… All he needs is a moment.
It’s midnight. Dayell closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and welcomes Jen’s soul into his bones.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Soothsayer Ch. 7, Pt. 2

Notes: Oh my gosh, major revelations at last! A new quest, new trials and tribulations and a whole lot of WTF, honestly. Where do I even get some of this? This one was super fun to write. Enjoy!

Title: Soothsayer Chapter 7, Part 2.


“I wonder what inspires gamblers. Is if the adventure or the love of laziness?” – Paul Bamikole

                I woke up and realized I couldn’t feel my arms. It said something about my state of mind that the first thing I thought was, “Where is Sören?” It was quickly followed by “Oh my fuck, what the hell is wrong with my arms?”

                It took a few seconds for my mind to clear enough that I could figure things out. I was still outside, although now the sky was completely dark, the sun gone and the moon obscured by cloud cover. I wasn’t in the dark, though. The car was about ten feet in front of me, well into the field—how the fuck had it gotten there? Had Sören driven it there? Had he dragged it? Either way, the car was facing me, headlights on, so bright that it hurt to look at them. I could barely make out the silhouette of a man crouched in front of them, rifling through a bag—my bag.