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:

http://www.stormmoonpress.com/books/Devout.aspx

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.