Monday, December 12, 2011

A odd sort of thrill

I almost gave up.

The book finder said they were there. I scanned the rack of "Fiction Anthology" in the 5th Avenue Barnes and Noble in New York City this past Saturday, but I couldn't spot any copies of Best Erotic Romance on the shelf. Best this, best that. But not BER.

It wouldn't be the first time I couldn't find a book I was looking for.

But something inside told me to look one more time. So I methodically, with neck craned sideways, scanned the entire bookshelf. Then, toward the bottom, there it was! Turns out they were arranged alphabetically according to the Editor's name. Kristina Wright.

It is an an odd feeling, the good kind of odd, odd meaning out of the ordinary, not everyday, not taken for granted, to pull a book off a bookstore shelf and know that your words are inside.

This is not the first time I've been published. Not the first time I've been in print. Not the first book I've held and turned to my words. But this IS the first time I've seen a book I'm in on a shelf in a bookstore.

Luckily, I was not alone, but with friends, so I was able to literally bounce over to where they were standing and jump up and down and squeal with delight (I honestly don't remember what I said) and turn to the Table of Contents and then to the page (179) that my story is on  and then to the bios. I turned a bit too fast for my friends, LOL.

It was nice to be able to share that moment. If I had of been by myself, I would have been just as thrilled, but I wouldn't have been able to share it. I would have been jumping up and down inside, all the while just standing there. So thank you Kam, Charlie, Stacey, and Tim for being there. And thanks Stacey for taking this picture after I'd bought a copy, even though I know my contributor's copy is probably on it's way.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

A taste from my Best Erotic Romance story

Best Erotic Romance is now available to order, and I thought I'd give a little taste of my story "Till the Storm Breaks" to whet your appetite.

I'm pretty excited, because this will be my first print publication of any of my erotica. And seeing that "Best" there is just kind of tingly-feeling-giving. When Kristina Wright chose this story to be included, she didn't realize that it would be my first print publication. She called my story "lovely." Wow. :)

I think I'm ready for winter.

Excerpt from Till the Storm Breaks:

I tested a noodle. Not quite ready. I watched the bubbles rise to the surface and pop. Best laid plans. Best plans to get laid. I'd been looking forward to the guest suite that I knew Greg would have put me and Tim in, the one with the Jacuzzi and the floor to ceiling windows looking out at the ocean. I'd fantasized about Tim unzipping my red dress while I watched our reflection in the window. I loved to have sex when we were away from home. Hotel rooms with their matching beds to try out. Quaint bed and breakfasts with quilts on brass beds. On the floor at his parent's house (since they'd never replaced the boys' bunk beds). Tent camping. And here at our cabin. But not this time.
We were sleeping in the open loft and Teresa was on the pull-out. While I might have slid my hand into his pajamas, trying to interest him in something other than sleep, I knew that with Teresa so close downstairs, that Tim would just not go for it. He was a pretty vanilla guy, and not very forthcoming when it came to sharing fantasies or out-of-the-ordinary desires. But I loved him, and he seemed to enjoy my efforts to spice things up a bit for us. I realized as I stood there, that I was just a little bit aroused. That's what I get for thinking about sex, which I did on a regular basis.
"Hey, are the noodles ready?" Teresa looked over my shoulder. I stabbed one of the macaronis, held it up and blew on it, then fed it to her. "Done?" She smiled and nodded, and I watched her red hair sway with the movement. I felt an odd little rush as I became acutely aware of her breasts pressed against the back of my arm. Not wanting to move, yet needing to drain the noodles, I turned off the stove and emptied the pan into the colander in the sink. Steam rose, fogging the window. Just then the lights blinked. "Uh oh," Teresa said, "maybe we should light one of those candles in case…"
            We were plunged into darkness. 

Suite news!

Today I got the news that my story "Return to the Nonchalant Inn" will be in next year's Suite Encounters: Hotel Sex Stories, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel for Cleis Press! Needless to say, I'M THRILLED!!! Due out the middle of next year, it will be my second print publication of my erotica. There's just something about a book with paper and pages and a cover and print. I wasted no time in signing the contract and sending it back. :)

I've been reading Rachel's anthology for years and it is most definitely an honor to be chosen by her for this second anthology of hotel sex stories. I can't wait to see the TOC!

This comes on the heels of the release of Best Erotic Romance, edited by Kristina Wright for Cleis. I've got a story in that, and my next post will be an excerpt from it!

Letting go of the old year

Whoa. It's December already. It's been more than 2 weeks since my last post. Unintended.

I have more good stuff to announce, but that will be the next post, about looking forward to next year. This post is about letting go of the old one.

Back in late October I wrote about how this year seems to have been a lost year. In many ways it's also be a last year. Next year is truly going to be a "new" year for me. And as I stand on the brink, frost crunching under my feet (figurative frost - it's actually raining and almost 60 degrees!), just beginning to lean into what is coming, I've been slowly prying my fingers away from what I've been holding on to.

It's been a year of letting go. And I've still not let go of my fear of writing from the heart. I've been typing this paragraph over and over again. Shall I say it? Shall I not? Maybe some of it is still too raw and bloody. Things that have defined me, for decades or years or months or days, are being ripped away. By me. I've needed to let go of my attachment to activities, though loved, that had become stressful to the point that I'd come to dread them. I've needed to let go of my attachment to my wanting others to be what I wanted them to be, and not what they actually are.  I've needed to let go of hopes and dreams that were not at all attainable. All of these things I was holding on to were holding me back.

Next year is about moving. Moving on, moving forward, moving in new directions, moving towards something rather than away. Moving rather than being frozen in place.