July 11, 2017

2017 Literary Awards


Thought I'd catch you up on all the kudos Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year, Vol. 1 has been receiving.


Yes, the book won a Golden Crown Literary Award in the Lesbian Erotica category on July 8, 2017!

We also won a silver medal in the Independent Publisher Book Awards, Erotica category on May 30. Here's a picture of me with that blindingly bright silver medal! I say "we" because, of course, the book would be less than nothing (in fact, it wouldn't even exist) without the amazing authors who's stories grace its pages.







And last, but certainly not least (actually, it was the first award of the season) I also won the National Leather Association-International John Preston Short Fiction Award with my short story, Cupcakes and Steel, which appears in the inimitable Rose Caraway's, For The Men and the Women Who Love Them!
 




By the way, cherish that link, above, for Best Lesbian Erotica. Amazon has a vendetta out on the book and, possibly, me. It's almost impossible to find on your own. So, use the link, buy the book and, please, submit an Amazon review (since no one can find the book, no one can review it). This is the first Best Lesbian Erotica in the 21-year history of its publication, that has been almost completely hidden from view. It's garnered major awards but no one knows how to find it so please, spread the word!


March 20, 2017

In Bonds of the Earth Janine Ashbless

I had the great pleasure of reading the first book in Janine Ashbless's angel series, Cover Him With Darkness, and was blown away by it. Now, at long last, the second book of the series has been released: In Bonds of the Earth!

The book is sitting here, on my desk, just waiting for me to finish what I'm reading now so I can begin. I am so looking forward to it. I highly recommend the series, and really, anything by Janine Ashbless! Here's a kick ass excerpt. 


Wrapping the cheap cotton throw from the foot of the bed around my bare body, I padded through to the doorway. The Archangel Michael stood in the middle of my small apartment, looking about him at the book shelves and the pictures. A paperback copy of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo slipped from his hand back onto the low table.
     “Hello, Milja. Nice place. Has he moved his toothbrush in yet?”
It was like waking to find a giant bird of prey in my tiny living room; he looked wildly unsuited to a domestic setting and way too big for it, even with wings furled. In fact, with that Roman nose and those unblinking amber eyes, there was something distinctly golden eagle-like about him. If he stretched out he could knock over walls, I thought.
     “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked. “This is my home. You can’t just come barging in!”
     “You’re right,” he said, looking startled. “I have to have your permission. No, hold on, wait…that’s vampires. Shame.”
     I pursed my lips. “Well, God certainly did not hold back on the sarcasm when he made you guys.”
     He smirked. If you’re that good-looking, even a less-than-warm smile can be a weapon of devastating charm. Turning to the couch, he sat down with arms draped over the back and knees spread. It was not so much an invitation as a claiming of territory.
     “What do you want?” I kept my voice hard, even as I thought of the icon of Saint Michael that had stood guard over the key in my father’s church. That holy painting had always made me feel nervous as a child, and he was no less intimidating in the flesh. His piercing gaze rested lightly upon me, with all the gentleness of a sword-point.
     “Nothing.”
     His rigger boots were caked in dried mud, I noticed, and flaking on my rug. I wished he would blink. It still creeped me out, even though Azazel should have inured me to it. “Angels aren’t supposed to lie. What are you doing here?”
     “Waiting.”
     “So, what…you’re sitting guard over me until Azazel comes back? Is that your plan?”
     “He’s too much of a coward to face me. Runs every time.”
     “If that’s the way you want to call it.”
     He looked at the kitchen door. “I see you have a kettle. You got any tea? I like that Earl Grey stuff. Tastes like flowers.”
     “I know the rules, you know. You can’t actually do anything to me.”
     “True enough. And I’m not stopping you leaving, if that’s worrying you.”
     “I can move out. Get a new place.”
     “That’s fine, I’ll find you. This apartment’s a bit small for the two of us, to be honest.”
     I clenched my jaw, weighing my options. “Okay,” I said, and dropped my wrap to reveal my naked body, in all its post-coital salty glow.
     That wiped the smile off his lips. “Don’t play those games,” he growled, sitting up and looking away from me.
     Love is Azazel’s weak spot. Shame is theirs. They’re terrified of their own human flesh.
     “What? Does this make you uncomfortable? That’s a pity, seeing as how it’s my house and I like to walk around it naked.”
     “You are shameless.” His gaze was sliding all over the place, not daring to settle on me.
     “I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” I hefted my breasts and jiggled them. “They’re my tits. In my apartment. If you don’t want to see, clear out.”
     “Put your robe back on,” he rasped.
     “Oops,” I said. “Did I drop it?” Turning my back to him, I spread my feet and, straight-legged, bent over to pick the fabric up again. Nice and slow…
     He moved so fast he’d launched me across the room and onto my bed before I even realized he was out of his seat. The abused mattress twanged in alarm. It knocked the wind out of me—and more than that, shocked me half to death. I wasn’t in the least bit hurt, not even bruised, but I hadn’t expected him to touch me at all, under the rules. Maybe the Boatman sailed closer to the wind than I’d bargained for.
     “Don’t do that, whore!” he barked, leaning into my face. He looked furious. I knew why. It takes a human decades to learn how to deal with all the things that come with an adult body—all those hormones and instincts—without losing control. Angels never had the advantage of a gradual introduction.
     I had two choices: surrender or fight. I bared my teeth and snarled right back at him, matching his rage and contempt. “Or what? You’re going to rape me? ’Cause I think that might just count as a fall from Grace, don’t you? And then you’d be royally fucked, Mister Michael.”
     He recoiled, drawing himself up in undisguised horror. I took advantage of the gap between us to roll over and pull the drawer of my bedside cabinet open, pulling out the silicon rabbit sex toy I’d been given at my graduation party. I hadn’t used it in months, I couldn’t even remember if there were any batteries in it, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.
     “Wanna watch?” I asked, spreading my legs wide. “Because that’s what us girls do when we’re home alone these modern days. You can go into the other room if it squicks you out to see. Then you’ll only have to listen to the noises I make.”
He turned on his heel and stomped away, slamming his hands into the doorframe hard enough to crack the wood. But he didn’t leave altogether. He was just that bit too stubborn.



Janine Ashbless is a writer of fantasy erotica and steamy romantic adventure. She likes to write about magic and myth and mystery, dangerous power dynamics, borderline terror, and the not-quite-human.

Janine has been seeing her books in print ever since 2000. She's also had numerous short stories published by Black Lace, Nexus, Cleis Press, Ravenous Romance, Harlequin Spice, Storm Moon, Xcite, Mischief Books, and Ellora's Cave among others. She is co-editor of the nerd erotica anthology 'Geek Love'.

Born in Wales, Janine now lives in the North of England with her husband and two rescued greyhounds. She has worked as a cleaner, library assistant, computer programmer, local government tree officer, and - for five years of muddy feet and shouting - as a full-time costumed Viking. Janine loves goatee beards, ancient ruins, minotaurs, trees, mummies, having her cake and eating it, and holidaying in countries with really bad public sewerage.

Her work has been described as:
"Hardcore and literate" (Madeline Moore) and "Vivid and tempestuous and dangerous, and bursting with sacrifice, death and love." (Portia Da Costa)

 
And now, for the most important part!
 
Print:

Photo by: David Woolfall






December 18, 2016

Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year Volume 1

Has Been Released!





That's right, this book is available right now! You can find it at your brick and mortar book store, as well as on Amazon and other online booksellers--like Powells and Barnes and Noble, etc.

We kicked off the release with a reading at the famous KGB Bar in New York City on December 15 at Kathleen Warnock's reading series, Drunken! Careening! Writers! She's been hosting the Best Lesbian Erotica reading every December for the past twelve years and I've had the privilege of reading there many times, but this was the first time I attended as the editor of the iconic book!

Two of the authors read their stories, Annabeth Leong and Megan McFerren, Kathleen read an excerpt from her new work in process, a play about lesbian erotica(!) and I followed up with a paragraph from each of the stories not read. I'm going to post that here for you, with the additions of Megan's and Annabeth's stories because I think you'll like it. Anyway, it will give you a taste of what you'll find in the book--although kind of a weird one due to the way it's arranged.

These paragraphs are in the order of the table of contents. The first is the first paragraph in story #1 the 2nd is the 2nd paragraph in story #2, the third is paragraph #3 in the 3rd story, etc. Fun, right? And fun to read, too!

     I push the girl back roughly until she's pinned against the ancient stonemasonry. I've got one forearm across her chest. She can't move, but neither does she want to. We're deep in the shadows of a secluded archway, but even out in the open piazza, she willingly licked ice cream from my fingers, with a tongue that held the promise of other, sweeter explorations.
     Apparently, I was in a blood feud with America's Most Oscar-Hopeful Sweetheart. I didn't even know about the lines until the press started calling:
     When I find you in the corner, won't be fuckin' nice
     Bitch each other out like Tyler Lite and April Vice
     I can't trust myself either. Her text comes through after ten, but my phone is turned up loud and the ping gets me out of bed. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't waiting for it. Even while I think about how I'm not going to put up with this forever, I'm finding her favorite skirt and buttoning it on, stuffing my bag with lube and toys she likes, crumpling up my pride and shoving it into a corner of my mind well hidden by my lust and our history.
     A fender bender in rush hour traffic had brought us together. I was fuming. I had the right of way. I was on my way home after a long day. All I wanted was a glass of wine and some mindless reality TV to make me forget the mountains of papers threatening to bury me at the office. Instead I was stuck on the side of the road. My tire flat, the driver's side rear door sunken in about a foot, and a man in his eighties, who drove a tank disguised as a Buick, sitting across from me, looking sad and apologetic. The bumper of his car had only a minor dent. Luckily, we were both traveling solo and neither one of us was injured.
     "Rina is an unusual name. Is it short for anything?" We were seated at one of our tiny tables during a quiet spell. Papa was outside the shop, smoking and joking with the other business owners on our street. Mama was upstairs in bed with a migraine.
     She kissed me again, gently, sweetly. "You're my best friend, and I bet if we had sex, it would be amazing. I'm pretty sure I'm bi for you, but the rest of the time, not so much, and you know--I kind of like the wanting part best."
     Once indoors, she wordlessly pulled the neck of her shirt aside just far enough to show me the shrapnel studding her upper arm and the musket ball hole in her shoulder. I winced, remembering too many ailing soldiers i the camps. The wounds still bled sluggishly and her breathing was faster than it should be. To my dismay, there was no matching injury on her back.
     Georgia patted the California king bed. "Sit," she said, and Catherine sat obediently, stretching out along the mattress, letting her robe fall temptingly askew. She watched Georgia from teh corner of one eye, as she rifled through her suitcase, clearly looking for something in particular. She sat it on the bed, and Catherine cocked a brow--
     "Trudy, Trudy, look at you in your power suit and heels. What happened to you?"
     Soccer practice had always meant a few things to me: the hard crack of cleat kicking ball; the robin's egg blue of the sky and the smell of grass; sweat trickling down my shirt and the hard breathing of girls around me while a coach lectured or cajoled or guided us. Walking home in autumn twilights with sore calves and blood still flowing with adrenalin. It didn't mean stealing glances across the field. Team romances were for summer leagues, not Division I athletes with their eye on NCAA tournaments.
     "There was no displeasure, madam."
     "I'm the boss tonight. Technically, the assistant manager." Which didn't guarantee that I'd get away with it. Audrey could be bribed, but there were six other waitresses, already intensely interested in what I was up to. Tough. It wouldn't be easy to replace an assistant manager who also did the accounting. Not this late in the season. "And as the boss, I happen to know that the duck in beach plum-Cabernet sauce is especially good tonight. I'll go for the oysters, but duck instead of bouillabaisse." Raf already knew that I'm far from the submissive type, but the emphasis on choosing my own meal wouldn't hurt.
     It's a brash song, every note woven through with sex, with the glitter and sweat of the thousand strip clubs where it's played since it hit the radio a decade ago. Stella, though, as she throws the lyrics over the crowded bar, has made it into a command: you will listen to her. And you will want her--not because she's shimmying as she sings, and not becuase your mouth has gone dry as you follow her eyes as they slide down to her swaying cleavage for a second before she turns them, glowing, back on the crowd, but because she's telling you that yeah, tonight she wants you to want her. And you do. You want Stella right now, want that voice in your cunt, want its slickness in yours, rich sound fucking you, filling you.
     Odile's lips parted slightly and she put a hand lightly to her throat. Smiling, pulling her leather gloves back on, Brandy turned towards the car door.
     At her station, Anna is passing the time by synchronizing her wrist watch with the clock on her phone. She does those kinds of things. A keeper of times. Her ticket says 9:46. Close enough.
     Midway through the show, my Lady reached over and used her fingers to widen the slit on the side of my gown. She exposed my upper thigh, the lacy top of my stockings. My cheeks reddened at the thought of the man on my left seeing what she had done, but I didn't dare complain. I bit my lip and looked toward the front of the room. She had been taking notes on each item, but she moved the pen and pressed the tip against my thigh. The first letter was large and made of two smooth curves that ended with an upward tick. It was followed by a curvy, upright.
     The third time, I'm bleeding. Another safe house, in South London this time, and we have done something necessary but incredibly illegal. Our country would disavow us if we were caught, and the memory of what I've done is carefully tucked away in the place in my mind where I put these things.
     She shrugs lightly. "I was, for the first year. But it pushed me to get myself together, and I'd be lying to myself if I pretended like I'm not grateful to you. You were the little voice in my ear."     

Here's the Table of Contents. You can use it as your cheat sheet:

Act Two by Tamsin Flowers
Fuckin' Nice by Deb Jannerson
The Last Time by Annabeth Leong
You Have the Right to Remain Naked by Samantha Luce
Mother Tongue by Camille Duvall
Pledge Night by Radclyffe
Coyote Girl by Evey Brett
Spa Day by Taylor C. Dunne
Revenant by Vanessa de Sade
Off Season by Valerie Alexander
Taming May by Megan McFerren
Crème Brûlée by Sacchi Green
Bush Garden by J. Belle Lamb
A Cooking Egg by Roxy Katt
Two Women Having Sex by Elna Holst
Ink and Canvas by Geonn Cannon
Covert Affairs by V. Florian
A Sense of Coming Home by P. A. Nox
 
You need a copy of this book, not to mention it makes a great Christmas or Hanukkah gift--just sayin'... 

Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year, Volume 1


 

July 9, 2016

New Cover and Book Up for Pre Sale


Cleis Press has released the cover for the new  Best Lesbian Erotica and you can find it available for pre-sale on Amazon.

The book won't be out until mid-December and I'm working on setting up readings in interesting promotions, among them the annual Best Lesbian Erotica reading at Drunken! Careening! Writers! hosted by series' past editor, Kathleen Warnock at KGB Bar in Manhattan. I'm told this will be the 13th year! I'll let you know about more stuff as it's arranged. 

But first, I wanted to whet your appetite with the table of contents:

Act Two by Tamsin Flowers
Fuckin' Nice by Deb Jannerson
The Last Time by Annabeth Leong
Pledge Night by Radclyffe
Mother Tongue by Camille Duvall
Peel by Jones
Coyote Girl by Evey Brett
Revenant by Vanessa de Sade
Off Season by Valerie Alexander
Taming May by Megan McFerren
You Have the Right to Remain Naked by Samantha Luce
Spa Day by Taylor C. Dunne
Two Women Having Sex by Elna Holst
Covert Affairs by V. Florian
A Sense of Coming Home by P. A. Nox
Crème Brûlée  by Sacchi Green
Ink and Canvas by Geonn Cannon
Bush Garden by J. Belle Lamb
A Cooking Egg by Roxy Katt
Topping Down by C. Selene

It's a very eclectic book. I'm a very eclectic person. The stories represented by the table of contents above reflect a wide range of tastes from unabashedly romantic, to hard-hitting SM, avant garde humor, to literary writing so lovely it'll make you swoon. There really is something for each of you--and more.

I'm very proud of this book and hope you will enjoy my edition of Best Lesbian Erotica even partially as much as I enjoyed editing it!

March 18, 2016

NEW! Call For Submissions to Best Lesbian Erotica

 Best Lesbian Erotica 2017
Edited by D. L. King
To be published by Cleis Press
Deadline: May 1, 2016
Payment: $100 and 2 copies of the anthology

D. L. King is looking for your absolute best lesbian erotica.

First, let me apologize for the extremely short window in getting your submission in. The publisher would like to return to the tradition of publishing Best Lesbian Erotica in December, and to do so they need the manuscript in fairly short order. Unfortunately, the terms of the book were just recently worked out and there’s very little time left. BUT I have every faith in you. I know you can deliver a fabulous story in the time allotted! So, please read on…

What is sexy? What makes one story so hot you sweat? Is it scorching because it tells the truth? No, I don’t mean non-fiction or memoir. I mean, does it strike a chord? Does it touch your soul or maybe your core? Is it earth-shattering, tremor-inducing, pass out sexy? That’s what I’m looking for because, after all, this is Best Lesbian Erotica!

Your story can be about a match made in heaven or about a bar pickup; it can be about a couple who have been together for forty years or two women who just met in the cafeteria line their freshman year at college. You can set it in the Wild West, on a pirate ship or even in Ohio. Tell me a story of sweet love or one of rough sex meted out by a strict dominatrix. Tell me about sex with a beautiful ghost or about getting it on before the kids come home from school. Set it in a campground and people it with a group of butches or turn a bachelorette party into an orgy.

You get the picture: The sky’s the limit. But it has to be good—no, it has to be the best. Your characters can be any age and ethnicity, your story can be sweet or harsh, it can be about love, lust, or adventure but it must be between two (or more) women and contain explicit sex. Send me stories that are sweet, kinky, sexy, romantic and/or dangerous but most of all, send me stories that will singe my sheets.  All characters must be at least 18. No scat and no snuff. 

Stories should be between 2,500 and 4,000 words, double-spaced, 12 pt, Times New Roman. Please indent the first line of each paragraph one-half inch and do not include extra lines between paragraphs. No fancy fonts, no weird sizes, no bizarre formatting, no strange colors.

Never before published stories are preferred but reprints will be considered as this is a “Best” anthology. You may submit up to two stories. If you submit a reprint, you must own the rights. Please include the date of publication, title, editor and publisher.

Send your story as a .doc (NOT a .docx) attachment and include the title, pseudonym (if applicable) and your legal name and mailing address to bestlesbianerotica17@gmail.com. The subject line should read: Submission: TITLE. Please include a 50 word bio. Direct any questions to the same address. (If you are absolutely unable to send a .doc attachment, I will accept an rtf.)

March 8, 2016

New Release!

Nine Star Press will be releasing my erotic lesbian novella, Stubborn as a Bull on March 12! It's a bit of a departure for me in that it's more of a romance than most of my work. Oh, don't worry, there's plenty of great random sex, but there's also a possible loving relationship.

The story is about Kat, a bartender (think Shane from The L Word) and her exploits. Her best friend, Carla, wants to see her settled down and happy but Kat isn't at all sure that's what she wants. Enter Lil, a restaurateur. She's smitten--and kind of annoying.

Here's a little excerpt to peak your interest.
 
-->
Just after midnight, the hot stripper with the tattoos came in. Actually, three of them came in together, but I had my eye on the hot little one. She’d done something to her hair since the last time I’d seen her. It seemed like it was alive. When she got close to the bar, I could see that she’d put lots of streaks of different colors in it. It sort of shimmered when she moved.

The three of them made their way up to the bar. Her two friends ordered vodka tonics, and she asked me how the Bloody Marys were. I told her the mix was my own recipe, and I made the best Bloody Marys in town.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said and winked at me. She had the most mischievous eyes. She looked like a pixie with her sparkling eyes and shimmering hair.

She tasted the drink as soon as I put it on the bar. “Mmm, you’re not kidding. This is one fine Bloody Mary. Almost like back home.”

“Yeah? Glad you like it. Where’s home?”

“New Orleans,” she said.

And then I heard the odd little Southern—but not—drawl in her voice. “I see,” I said. “Yep. Some of the best Bloody Marys I’ve ever had came from there. That was more or less the taste I was shooting for with my recipe. Love your hair, by the way.”

“Yeah? Thanks. It looks good on stage, you know? Like under the lights. I dance, you know, like topless? With a pole. I’m—we’re,” she looked back to the dance floor and gestured to her friends, “over at Krazy Kitties. It’s downtown, on 7th. You should come sometime. There are a few women who come.”

“Hey, maybe I’ll take you up on that,” I said. She took her drink and joined her friends. Damn, she was hot. When I turned back to the bar, several people picked up their empties and nodded. I really must have been tired. Usually I don’t let my bar customers go dry while I’m busy flirting. I was slipping tonight, and neglecting people wasn’t a good business strategy for a bartender.

“That’s one hot little number. She’s almost as cute as you.”

“Why, thank you, ma’am,” I said, looking toward the sound of the voice. Damn! It was Lil. I wonder when she walked in. “Grey Goose and tonic, is it?”

“Close. Grey Goose but without the tonic. On the rocks, please. Not bad.”

I quickly served everyone I’d been neglecting while I flirted with the dancer and then came back to Lil. “Don’t you own a restaurant?”

She flashed an incredulous look before getting her face under control. “Why, yes, I do. I didn’t know you knew about that. I own The Pear and Camembert a couple of blocks over. A little wine bar bistro. We serve soups and sandwiches, cheese and charcuterie plates, that sort of thing.”

“You don’t need to be there, keeping an eye on things?” I knew it sounded bad as soon as I’d said it. “I mean, well, I didn’t mean…”

“No, I know what you mean. But I like to keep an eye on things over here, too,” she said with a wink. “And besides, it’s a wine bar. We don’t serve mixed drinks. Where else would I get my Grey Goose?” She tilted her glass to me and smiled.
I couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe she was starting to get to me, but I still wanted to go on a treasure hunt for tattoos.

I'll let you know when it comes out. Then you can let me know what you think! 

February 28, 2016

New Call for Submissions!

 Unspeakably Erotic: Lesbian Kink
Edited by D. L. King
To be published by Slate Edge Ink
Deadline: May 31, 2016
Payment: $50 plus 2 copies of the print anthology and one copy of the e anthology

D. L. King is looking for your kinkiest lesbian erotica, in fact, the kinkier, the better.

What is taboo to one might be tame to another and one person’s vanilla might be debauched and utterly kinky to someone else. Rope, handcuffs, wax, needles, tattoos, collars, whips, rubber, leather, worship, degradation, power exchange, butches, femmes, polyamory, food, shaving, phone sex, webcams, porn, role play—I could go on, but I’m not here to tell you what to write.

What’s that story that you’ve always wanted to tell? That one you thought might be just a little “out there,” the one your ex-lover told you never to tell? Go on, you can tell me. Whisper it to me. I’ll never tell. At least, I’ll never tell how it found its way into a book of dirty, kinky, sexy erotica. So tell me something a little transgressive. Make it hot. Make me squirm. Tell me just what happens when women come together, get down and dirty and let the inhibitions go.

Tell me about pain and pleasure. I want to hear about toys and implements, about hardware stores and sex shops, about corsets and trousers, fingers and tongues.  You know what I want; I want something unspeakably erotic. But make no mistake, taboo, or not, there are still some things I never want, so don’t send me stories with underage characters, scat, or snuff. You know what to do: just make me happy—and damp.

Stories should be between 2,500 and 4,500 words, double-spaced, 12 pt Times New Roman. Please indent the first line of each paragraph one-half inch and do not include extra lines between paragraphs. No fancy fonts, no weird sizes, no bizarre formatting, no strange colors. Do not put a cover sheet on your story. You may send up to two never before published stories. I’ll want exclusive rights for one year from the date of publication (with the exception of “best of” anthologies), and then non-exclusive after that.

Send your story as a .doc attachment (NOT a .docx—if you don’t know how to do that, ask) and include the title, pseudonym (if applicable) and your legal name and mailing address to tabooantho@gmail.com. The subject line should read: Submission: TITLE. Please include a 50-word bio. Direct any questions to the same address. (If you are absolutely unable to send a .doc attachment, I will accept an rtf. But I will not be happy about it.)