Showing posts with label Coming Together. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Coming Together. Show all posts

Thursday, July 26, 2018

An arousing look into the future - Hard Drive by @MChristianZobop #scifi #erotica #anthology

Hard Drive cover

When I heard about the release of Hard Drive, M. Christian’s newly released collection of science fiction erotica, I offered to put up a post for him on my blog. However, I soon realized it would be disingenuous to pretend that he was just another author, that this was just another bit of social media promotion. I’ve known M.Christian for a long time—at least fifteen years—and I’ve always been a fan of his erotic fiction.

No, scratch that. I’m not a “fan”. That implies slavish adoration. I am a discerning and appreciative reader. He’s one of the most imaginative and versatile authors I’ve encountered. He writes everything from horror to romance, scifi to stroke. He can create believably erotic scenarios involving characters who are straight, gay, lesbian, and completely unlabeled. Even after all these years, he can still surprise me.

We’ve read and reviewed each other’s work over the decades. He has edited my stories for his collections; I’ve done the same for him, including his single author altruistic erotica volume Coming Together Presents: M. Christian, which supports Planned Parenthood

 

So I can’t really claim to be objective when it comes to M. Christian. He’s not only a valued colleague, but a friend.

Still, you should believe me when I tell you this book is a treat. Hard Drive collects the best of his speculative erotica tales, a genre that’s one of both his favorites and my own, published over his long career.

Here’s the blurb—a bit breathless, but accurate never the less:

With The Bachelor Machine, M.Christian set the gold standard for erotic science fiction: stories that pushed the absolute limits of both outrageous sex and fantastic technology.

His follow-up collection, Skin Effect, raised it even further: a book that Publisher’s Weekly praised as “Future technology’s ability to alter the very nature of our humanity—and the ways those changes interact with sex—shapes this solid collection of futuristic stories from erotica author M.Christian.”

Now M.Christian has personally selected his favorite stories from The Bachelor Machine, Skin Effect, and his other erotica collections to create the ultimate celebration of sexually-explicit cyberpunk science fiction: Hard Drive.

With a special introduction by science fiction legend Arthur Byron Cover, Hard Drive is a book that will take you to the outer reaches of BDSM, gay, lesbian, and straight sexuality in the near and far future: worlds of brilliant imagination, relentless passion, and supernova heat!

And here’s an excerpt from “State”, possibly the best piece of sci-fi erotica I've ever read. The main character is a human woman impersonating an expensive humanoid sex robot. In the world of this tale, robotic sex is a more valuable commodity than flesh-on-flesh. The protagonist finds her masquerade a personally arousing challenge.

The streets, and common knowledge, said that Autos took a while to power up, boot up their software, get their circuits warm and ready, though never really willing: the perfect love-doll. The perfect toy. The real fact was that it took Fields time to get completely into her Act.

Her friendly gray robe went first ... into the hidden closet behind the false wall of phony, blinking telltales and dummy flat-screens playing loops of technical gibberish, with the rest of her reality, hung on a hook next to her vid discs, street clothes, wigs, pills, towels, creams, sprays, and plain-faced bottles of special dye.

Very special dye; an incredibly durable, bonding polymer that she applied each morning; but she was always careful to examine every inch of herself in a roll-up plastic mirror, lathering on the thick blueness at the faintest signs of her real pinkness, before the light over the door flashed green. Her hair, every brown strand, was months gone and kept at an imperceptible level by a chilling spray of tailored enzymes. Sure, she could wear any of her wigs, and sometimes did for those who just couldn't deal with a too-inhuman Automaton, but for the most part, she liked going smooth and streamlined: you paid for a machine.

The little yellow hexagon pills still had about another two hours to go – her skin texture and temperature would be just that different. Not quite human, almost machine-synthetic. Anyone, of course, who knew the real Mitsui would know the reality of pink skin-and-blood Fields under the blue, behind the contacts, beyond the re-engineered body. But then the Autos were very rare, their legends and rumors huge … and who would know the real thing after all, in the dim shadows of big, sprawling, bad Kyushu?

Fields's body was a gift from Mama. Really, an investment: those long days, two years ago with the Osaka Scalpers, had taken what nature had lucked her with and shaped her into an almost perfect Auto Class B – still one of Mitsui's most popular models. Strong shoulders; round face with high, almost too-wide-for-nature cheekbones; tiny, pert, full lips; huge, crystal-blue eyes; high, wide, and moderate tits, huge against her small actual frame, with aggressively large nipples. Some of it was really hers, some was machine-made for her machine Act. Her looks, real or made, would be good and profitable as long as the real unit was state-of-the-art ... and the rumors of how good, and how hot, kept flying.

Fields's cortical jack was a gift from Sammi, now long gone. His gift of matched wet dreams through cheap Kobe scalp implants was also gone. One quick brain-trip with the tall and lean New Tokyo hustler had been enough for the preteen Fields (spasms of her riding him, his impression of "nothing-but-sex nothing-but-sex" and her always on fucking top, running/stomping all over her images of that one time – that one good time – at that Osaka shrimp stick stand when he had just smiled at her oh so special); the jack was the one and only thing that really remained of him. It was important to the Act, so she kept it polished and in good repair. The clients knew (if they knew anything) that no one had shrunk the hardware for the Autos enough for them to be self-supporting. They expected and got her – Regulation Blue, hairless, eyes also blue but also no irises, just slightly cool, perfect little ass, perfection tits, and trailing her braid of cables: a love-doll lifted from a Japanese collective consciousness, a manga sex-toy – all eyes and ass and tits and mouth and cunt. Pure fantasy, rolled off the assembly line to a male libido's factory specs. Her body was flesh, tricked by drugs and chemicals – the jack on the crown of her head was real, the line was dead, but she was still State: the perfect whore, the perfect trick, perfect in her Act.

And, god knew, she liked it. Liked it a lot...


Hard Drive: The Best Sci-Fi Erotica of M.Christian
is available on Kindle from Sizzler Editions (free on Kindle Unlimited).


A print edition is coming soon.

About the Author

Calling M.Christian versatile is a tremendous understatement. Extensively published in science fiction, fantasy, horror, thrillers, and even nonfiction, it is in erotica that M.Christian has become an acknowledged master, with stories in such anthologies as Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bisexual Erotica, Best Fetish Erotica, and in fact too many anthologies, magazines, and sites to name.

M.Christian's short fiction has been collected in many bestselling books in a wide variety of genres, including the Lambda Award finalist Dirty Words and other queer collections like Filthy Boys and BodyWork. He also has published collections of nonfiction (Welcome to Weirdsville, Pornotopia, and How to Write and Sell Erotica); science fiction, fantasy, and horror (Love Without Gun Control); and erotic science fiction including Rude Mechanicals, Technorotica, Better Than the Real Thing, the acclaimed The Bachelor Machine, and its follow-up, Skin Effect.
As a novelist, M.Christian has shown his monumental versatility with books such as the queer vamp novels Running Dry and The Very Bloody Marys; the erotic romance Brushes; the science fiction erotic novel Painted Doll; and the rather controversial gay horror/thrillers Finger's Breadth and Me2.

M.Christian has also become a celebrated sexual futurist, both through his novels and short stories as well as being a Senior Columnist for Future Of Sex (https://futureofsex.net), which provides "insights into the fascinating topic of the future of human sex and sexuality."

M.Christian’s site: www.mchristian.com

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Random Smut (#SmutSunday #ComingTogether #TabooErotica)

Smut Sunday button


I was trying to decide what book I’d use for today’s Smut Sunday excerpt. Then I had a brainstorm. I’d let fate decide.

I counted the books on my single author titles page (49), then asked Random.org to choose one. The result was my charitable taboo erotica tale, A Breed Apart.

In this pseudo-Victorian tale, a woman whose virtue has been compromised is hired by a wealthy couple to serve as governess for their young daughter. When she arrives at their remote mansion, she begins to understand why their advertisement specified a “woman of experience”.


This is a particularly smutty excerpt. But it’s just the beginning...

When you’ve finished my Smut Sunday offering, head back to Smut SundayCentral for more great smut.




"Good day, Miss Varney." The high, clear voice exuded confidence. "Welcome to Hawthorne Manor." According to the letters I had exchanged with her father, Clara Hawthorne was five years old, but she held herself with the dignity of an adult. She was a diminutive creature, barely three feet tall, dressed in a ruffled apple green frock with matching slippers. A cloud of red-gold hair framed her perfect features like a halo. Her eyes burned with green fire like her mother's.

"Good day, Clara. I am to be your new governess." I had risen from my chair when my employer returned. Now I bent from the waist to bring myself closer to my enchanting new charge. "I'll be teaching you reading and spelling, figures, music and drawing, and French, if you'd like."

"I can already read," Clara told me solemnly. "But Edward and I would very much enjoy learning to speak French."

"Edward?" I glanced up at Clara's parents.

"Her imaginary playmate," Peter replied, his voice odd. He turned his attention back to the child. "Your lessons will start tomorrow, Clara. Are you pleased?"

"Oh yes, Papa." The girl surprised me by taking my hand. Like sun breaking through clouds, a glorious smile glowed on her pixie face. "We shall have fun, shan't we, Miss Varney?"

"If you are so eager to learn, then I think we shall," I replied. "I look forward to teaching you."

"Now run along back to your games, darling." Rachel Hawthorne beamed down at her daughter. "I will call you when it's time for supper." The girl scampered up the stairs, her demeanor finally suited to her age. All three of us watched her disappear.

"She is absolutely charming," I told my employers. "And she appears to be extremely intelligent."

"Wait until you hear her sing. She has the voice of an angel." Peter Hawthorne returned his gaze to me. "Ah, you've finished your tea. Have a nip of brandy now."

"Oh, I don't think that would be advisable, sir..."

"Please, we're not so formal here. If I am going to call you Joan - and I am, because 'Miss Varney' is just too damned stiff - then you must call me Peter. Certainly not 'sir'!"

"I couldn't, really, it wouldn't be proper..." I began, then stopped short, not knowing what shocked me more: his profanity, his insistence that I use his first name, or the fact that one of his hands was stroking Rachel's buttocks while the other cupped and squeezed her breast. Rachel's face made it clear that his caresses were more than welcome. A flush painted her alabaster cheeks, like the first hint of dawn. Her eyes half-shut, her lips parted, she was obviously in a state of bliss.

His fingers crept downward, across her crimson-clad torso to her belly. I sank back into my chair, riveted by the salacious picture they presented. Peter's hand settled near the join of her thighs. I could see him probing into that space through her skirts. Meanwhile he nosed her jet curls out of the way and nuzzled her earlobe.

Under my layers of wool and muslin, I felt my privates grow damp. I swelled and ached the way I had when Thomas pulled me into the pantry to steal a kiss. I remembered his hands groping beneath my clothing, so skillful in kindling lust in my virgin body. I watched and I remembered and God help me, I wanted what Rachel had. I wanted him to touch me that way, bold, lewd, laughing, certain that I would not resist....

"Joan? Joan!" Rachel stood before me, offering me a crystal snifter half full of golden liquid. "I think you need this. You look as though you are about to faint."

Confused and compliant, I reached for the glass. Her fingers brushed mine. Something like lightning coursed through my body to strike my moist center. I tried to suppress a moan.

"Drink," Peter ordered. "The spirits will revive you." I swallowed a mouthful of the liquor. It seared my throat then settled comfortably in my chest, glowing like banked coals. Heat spread through me, melting me, burning away my anxiety and my exhaustion.

"Ah, that's lovely," I told them, taking another wonderful sip, and then another. I didn't recall when or how they'd ceased their lecherous embrace. Somehow that did not seem to matter. The room floated around us, golden and warm as the brandy they insisted I drink. For the first time since I had been expelled from Dalrymple Hall, I felt safe.

Peter was at my side, helping me to stand. His arm snaked around my waist. I supported myself against his lean, strong body. Rachel took my elbow. Their scent, wild herbs and rain-washed stone, rose around us. I stumbled, treading on the hem of the woman's gown.

"Oh, I'm so sorry...I told you that I shouldn't drink the brandy." I found myself giggling. After a moment the couple joined me in laughter.

"Do not be concerned, Joan," Rachel murmured as they assisted me in climbing the stairs. Her lush body pressed against mine. Nothing had ever felt so heavenly.

"We will take care of you," Peter whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "You are going to be part of our family."


Good, I thought to myself, so intoxicated that I did not resist at all when they stripped me of my clothing and pulled a nightshirt over my head. I need family.

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Review Tuesday: Coming Together Presents M. Christian (#erotica #charity #lgbtq) )



Coming Together Presents: M. Christian
By M. Christian
Coming Together, 2010

Is it unethical to review a book that I edited?

I’m not pretending disinterest. I am telling you right up front that I was the one who decided on the order of the sixteen stories in this anthology, to emphasize the contrasts and optimize the flow. I was responsible for tightening sentence structure, fixing spelling and punctuation issues, and removing excessive ellipses. I wrote the (admittedly enthusiastic) introduction.

I didn’t choose these stories, though. That was the author’s decision, as is the case with all of the Coming Together Presents charitable erotica series. M.Christian is solely responsible for the wonderful diversity in style, in theme and in sexual orientation you’ll find in these tales. He donated his considerable talent to benefit Planned Parenthood, which receives all proceeds from this book.

Well, I guess you can decide on your own whether to believe my review or not.

Coming Together Presents: M. Christian showcases the astonishing versatility of its author. A few of the tales (“Services Rendered”, “A Hard Night’s Work”) are straightforward tales of satisfying sexual encounters—the sort of thing you might expect from an erotica anthology. They’ll turn you on. They’ll make you smile. The former is M/F, the latter M/M. Mr. Christian likes to mix things up.

These two tales are great fun, but most of the stories in the book go deeper. “Last Tango in Paris, Texas” is a frenzied F/F tale with a bittersweet ending. “Grizzly” deals with a man coming to terms with his homoerotic desires. “Fragments”, a lyrical tale set in Barcelona, documents a female sculptor’s struggle to capture her conflicting desires in her art. “Evolution” is a beautiful, gut-wrenching piece about a lesbian couple where one member is transitioning from female to male.

M. Christian is well-known for his sci-fi and speculative fiction. This volume includes two science fiction pieces. One is the light-hearted polyamorous tale “On One Hand”. In the interest of avoiding spoilers, I won’t tell you the title of the other.

Broadly speaking, Coming Together Presents: M. Christian should be categorized as erotica. Some of my favorite stories, though, have little or no actual sex. “Missing Alice” is a romantic F/F tale about the difficulty in recognizing what you really want, with heartfelt kisses, but nothing more. “Four Views of Mount Fuji” believably evokes the sexual ambivalence of Japan—a country the author has never visited.

If you’re already an M. Christian fan but you haven’t read this book, you should add it to your bookshelves

If you’re not familiar with this talented author, the variety in this collection makes it a good place to start.

Either way, your purchasing the book will support a worthy cause.

(You can also help Planned Parenthood by buying my latest release, and by commenting on my recent charity Sunday Snog.)


Friday, January 20, 2017

Protesting the New Normal (#newrelease #antitrump #erotica @MoveOn)


This is a political post.

Normally I try to avoid politics and controversial religion on my blog. I am a strong believer in every individual’s right to his or her own opinion, as long as no one tries to foist that opinion on me. Live and let live has always been my motto. Plus I recognize that despite the appeal of painting the world in black and white, almost every issue actually involves shades of gray.

Normally, I’d just title this post “New Release”.

However, things these days are not normal.

The United States is about to swear in a president whose main claim to fame is his ability to insult other people in 140 characters. I’m not going to bore you by listing all his objectionable traits. If you share my views, you are already far too familiar with his vile behavior. If you’re one of the people responsible for today’s historic and, to me, horrifying event—well, you’ve probably given up reading already. Unless of course you’re preparing to leave me some comment full of invective, in the manner approved by your candidate.

Anyway, the day after the election results were announced, Alessia Brio, the founder and guiding light of the charitable erotica imprint Coming Together, sent out a call for submissions. Coming Together: Moving On is an anthology of fiction and poetry on themes made painfully salient by the presidential campaign and its aftermath: civil rights, equality, LGBTQ rights, tolerance, charity, sexual assault, politics, voting rights, immigration... You get the idea.

It's out today...Inauguration Day.

All proceeds from the book benefit MoveOn.org , a civic and political action group which has been at the forefront of efforts to resist the president-elect’s dangerous agenda and nominees, and his un-presidential behavior.

I’ve got a story in the book. I know many of the contributors. We’re donating our work for free, fighting our despair, because we want to do something to improve the situation.

It might not be much. But each of us can make a small difference, writing, and then living, our principles

 

Here’s the table of contents:

Introduction by Alessia Brio
Passion's Pull by Corbin A Grace
Hypocrites by Alyssa Turner
When There Are No Words by Sonni De Soto
The Help by Sonni De Soto
Kayla's Birthday Present by Ashlyn Chase
The Stoning by Michael Swanson
Checklist by B.K. Bilicki
Divided We Fall by Lisabet Sarai
For Their Own Good by Lola White
We Desire Many Things by Skilja Peregrinarius
The Aisle Of Lesbos by Allison Wonderland
A Healthy Passion by Mary Winter
Moving On by Kally Jo Surbeck

My story, “Divided We Fall”, is set in a near-future Los Angeles in which different ethnic groups have been confined to their ghettos and encouraged to wage war on one another.

Here’s a bit to give you the flavor.

***

There are no walls. Just IEDs, trip-wire bombs and snipers. We've learned a few things from the jihadis.

The Santa Anas whip at the white rag attached to my broom handle as I cross Vermont. No-man's land. Black hair tangles in my eyes, obscuring my vision. I should chop it all off, maybe even shave my head. That would be safer. Would look scarier, too. Pathetic how vanity survives, even in the most desperate situations.

Afternoon shadows stripe the broken pavement. The only vehicles visible are burned-out skeletons, picked clean by scavengers from both barrios. I dart from one to the next, keeping a good distance away from the blackened hulks while still trying to use them for cover as I approach the Niggertown gate. Any one of them could be booby-trapped, though that would break the unwritten rules that have allowed us Viets to co-exist with the niggers. So far at least.

I don't want to be here. I've got no confidence my truce flag will buy me any kind of safety. But what can I do? My little brother's disappeared, last seen headed toward the black ghetto. We searched every corner of Viet Village. Unless he's deliberately hiding―not likely given his age and his usual good behavior― he must have wandered outside the bounds.

The many kinds of harm he might meet scroll through my mind like credits for some old movie. I force myself to slow down as I approach the West Century intersection, the only un-mined street leading east into Niggertown. Gripping my flag in one hand, I raise the other high to show I'm unarmed. It's true, aside from the switchblade hidden my boot. I don't step out of the abandoned grocery my family calls home without that knife.

When I sleep, it hangs from cord around my neck, nestled between my breasts. Older Brother calls me Blade-Heart. He thinks it's a joke, but his nickname suits me. I might ask Uncle Pham to tattoo it on my bicep.

"Freeze, bitch."

I'm expecting the challenge, but still, my stomach does a queasy flip. I remain motionless, as instructed, keeping both hands visible. A tall, lean figure steps out from behind some pollution-rusted shrubbery in front of a ruined apartment building. He carries his Kalashnikov like it's another limb, one which he points directly at me. Funny how there's never enough food, but no problem getting guns.

"What you doin' here? This ain't your territory. You get your gook ass back 'cross the street before I kick it back!"

Though the guard talks tough, I can see he's young, maybe younger than I am. He fixes me with a belligerent glare and brandishes his weapon like he'd just as soon shoot me as not, but there's a softness to his mouth that lets me imagine him smiling. Using his left hand to draw an ugly blade from his belt, he strides in my direction.

He wears threadbare jeans and a faded camouflage shirt, open to the waist. The inky skin on his bare chest gleams with sweat, despite the brisk wind. The paler flesh of a scar slashes across his chest, just above his left nipple. That must have been a dire wound, close to fatal. He might be young, but he's no stranger to battle. None of us is, these days.

"You hear me, bitch?" he growls and jabs at me with his knife.

Instinct taking over, I shrink backward, then recover. He mustn't think I'm afraid. Straightening my spine, I raise my flag a bit higher.

"I claim the right of truce." I make my voice low, even, and respectful. But not subservient. "I'm looking for my three-year old brother. He wandered out of our territory earlier today. Someone said he might be in Niggertown."

"You better hope he's not." The guard gives me an evil grin. "Me and my boys just love a bit of barbecue."

I ignore his jibe. He's just trying to pull my chain. I hope. "Can I have a look around? Please?"

"Any gooks enterin' Niggertown got to pay the toll." His leer widens, his white teeth a shocking contrast to his soot-dark complexion.

****

If today’s events make you as sick as they make me, consider buying a copy of Coming Together: Moving On. Take a stand against the new normal. (And enjoy some great fiction, too.)



Available at other booksellers soon.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Call for Submissions: Altruistic Erotica/Romance to benefit MoveOn.org (#erotica #charity #uselection)

Coming Together Banner


Greetings, fellow authors!

If you're feeling bummed out by the US election results, here's something concrete you can do to improve your mood. Coming Together, a non-profit organization that publishes erotic fiction for charitable causes, is putting together a new anthology, Coming Together: Moving On, to benefit the progressive action group MoveOn.org

Here are the details, from Alessia Brio, founder, cover artist, and guiding light for Coming Together.

----------------------------

Themes: civil rights, equality, LGBTQ rights, tolerance, charity, sexual assault, politics, voting rights, immigration... You get the idea.

Targeted publication date: January 20, 2017 (Yes, that's Inauguration Day.)

Reprints that fit the theme(s) are welcome (as long as you own the rights). Limit 2 story and 4 poem submissions per contributor. 10K words max. No min. Include a brief 3rd person bio with attached RTF submission to submissions@the-erotic-cocktail.com

DEADLINE: December 24, 2015

Cover art coming soon!

---------------------------

PLEASE NOTE: There is no payment for Coming Together submissions. CT asks for one-time, non-exclusive publication rights and offers a free e-copy of the anthology to any contributor who wants one.

If you want more details you can contact me (I've been involved with CT for a decade) or Alessia by email, or leave a comment on this post.

And if you're overjoyed by the election results, well, I apologize for bothering you.

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Giving Back Hop Winners!

Greetings!

We've drawn the winners from the Thanks-Giving Back hop. You'll all be hearing from me (or Alessia) shortly about your prizes.

Grand prize: Sal (Flubber2Kool) - $40 bookstore GC

Copy of Slush (Sunday 22 November) - Gayle

Copy of The Eyes of Bast (Monday 23 November) - Trix

Copy of The Antidote (Tuesday 24 November) - Nikki

Copy of The Last Amanuensis (Wednesday 25 November) - F. Leonora Sullivan

Copy of Fourth World (Thursday 26 November) - KaiSquared

Copy of The Last Amanuensis (Friday 27 November) - Debby

Copy of The Antidote (Saturday 28 November) - BN100

We got 102 individual comments (not counting duplicates or comments from authors participating in the hop). I hope you were inspired to buy some of the charitable erotica books we featured!

Thanks for participating, and thanks to all the authors, too!

Monday, November 23, 2015

Giving It Away

As I’ve shared in many blog posts, I went through a rather intense period in my twenties when I had lots of lovers. After long years as a nerd, I’d just discovered that I was in fact sexually attractive—I’d always known I was fascinated by sex—and this combination of insights encouraged me to experiment and explore. My default answer during those years was “Yes”.

I’m fortunate that almost all those experiences ended up being positive. One thing that struck me was how grateful my lovers seemed to be. I got the distinct impression that most men spent their lives in a near-perpetual state of sexual frustration. They were thrilled to find a woman without a lot of shame or hang-ups, someone who was willing to try new things and who enjoyed sex as much as they did.

These encounters were exciting and pleasurable, but I also got emotional satisfaction from giving these guys a gift they valued.

Now that I’m an author, I still enjoy giving away the fruits of my erotic imagination. If you follow this blog, you’ll know I hand out a lot of free books. My favorite way of “giving it away”, though, is to offer my work and my time to Coming Together erotic anthology projects. Coming Together, the brain child of author and artist Alessia Brio, publishes erotic fiction to support charitable causes. Since it was founded in the mid-2000’s, Coming Together has raised tens of thousands of dollars for a wide range of worthy charities. (It’s now an official 501 (3)(c) U.S. non-profit organization.) Authors who participate donate their work for free. Our recompense is knowing we’ve made a difference.

I’ve been associated with Coming Together for a long time. My work has appeared in roughly twenty Coming Together titles, and I’ve edited seven volumes for them (six of them single author Coming Together Presents collections).

What can I say? I love giving it away. And this week, in collaboration with other CT authors, we’re holding our Thanks-Giving Back Blog Hop, giving you lots of goodies and hopefully encouraging you to buy CT books and support our charities.

We’ll be giving away a $40 bookstore gift certificate to one person who comments on any of the blog hop posts. In addition, each author will have a special prize for commenters on his or her own post.

Today I’m going to share a bit from my most recent CT publication. Coming Together: Strange Shifters, edited by Lynn Townsend, came out on Halloween and benefits Bat World Sanctuary. The book includes my story “Snow Bound” as well as a dozen other fabulous shape-shifter tales. I know lots of my readers love shifters. I hope you’ll check out this book.

You’ll find links to all the hop posts below. The more you visit and comment, the greater the chances of winning the grand prize. Meanwhile, if you comment on this post, you might win a copy of my cat-shifter romance The Eyes of Bast. Don't forget to include your email address!

 

"Mind if I have some?" An unfamiliar male voice cut into her reverie. Ellen looked up to find a stranger holding out his goblet. He had pale skin, jet black hair, plump lips as red as strawberries, and the most gorgeous tuxedo Ellen had ever seen—inky dark satin that gleamed in the dim light, a snowy expanse of ruffled shirt, and a scarlet cummerbund. It fit his lean, muscled body perfectly, too.

"Of course," Ellen replied, a bit flustered at being faced with such a vision. "I didn't mean to hog it. Here, let me...." She filled his empty crystal flute—at least Alicia had pulled out her good glassware for the occasion—admiring the strong-looking fingers that held the delicate stem.

"Happy New Year," said the stranger with a melting smile as they clicked glasses.

"The same to you.” They sipped their champagne in silence. Ellen felt as though similar bubbles were cavorting in her chest. "I'm Ellen," she blurted out as the silence lengthened. "I work with Alicia."

"Very pleased to meet you, Ellen." The impeccably attired stranger took her hand. For an instant Ellen thought he intended to bring it to his lips. At the last moment, he merely gave it a firm squeeze. "Sean. I just joined the IT department. Night shift."

"Ah, that explains why I haven't seen you around the office. I'm sure that I would have noticed someone like you!" Ellen realized after she closed her mouth that she must sound like total bimbo. She blushed to the roots of her blond hair.

"Someone like me?" Sean raised one eyebrow, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Well—you know, so debonair and sophisticated... I mean, there aren't too many guys who could wear a tuxedo like that—so comfortably, I mean, as though you were born in it...oh, dear, I'm being terribly silly. I'm just impressed, to be honest. Most of these guys—outside of work, they're such slobs."

She gestured toward the other end of the loft, where Bert and his buddies gyrated to the beat of AC/DC. Topping their baggy jeans, they wore football jerseys, faded flannel, or stretched out hoodies.

"I must say that you look lovely," Sean told her. "The black velvet makes your hair glow like spun gold. And your eyes remind me of emeralds."

"Gee—um—thank you." Ellen was dumbfounded. Men just didn't say things like that these days.


Thanks-Giving Back Hop Links

Sunday 22 November



Monday 23 November



Tuesday 24 November


Wednesday 25 November


Thursday 26 November



Friday 27 November


Saturday 28 November



Sunday, November 22, 2015

Sunday Snog for Good (M/M, #201)

Greetings! Today is the start of Thanksgiving week, and hence, of the holiday season. To celebrate this season of love and generosity, some of the authors associated with the Coming Together altruistic erotica group are doing a fabulous blog hop, starting today through next Saturday. The grand prize will be a $40 bookstore gift certificatenot a bad holiday gift!but in addition, every participating author will have a prize for a reader who comments on his or her post.

Meanwhile, I will have post every day during the hop. That’s seven chances to win, not including the grand prize!

I start off today with a kiss from my M/M holiday tale “Last Minute Gift”. This story was included in Coming Together for the Holidays. All proceeds from that book support Stand Up for Kids.

You’ll find the full blog hop schedule below.

And don’t forget to visit Snog Central today for more sexy kisses. (Victoria Blisse is also a Coming Together author.)

Oh, I almost forgot the prize! Leave a comment on this post, with your email address, and you could win a copy of my holiday romance Slush.



He and Flynn fit so incredibly well. He could scarcely believe the guy had been a virgin. Flynn was crazy for cock now, a real ass slut, screaming for more, more... so hot. So generous. This was something new, something different... something special.

The thought was what finally brought him to the boiling point. Roaring with lust, he ground his cock into Flynn's bowels and let loose. Jet after jet of spunk flooded out of him. Flynn's channel rippled around his spurting cock, milking him.

He collapsed onto Flynn's back, dimly aware that the other man was shaking with his own climax. Harry's going to be pissed at me for messing up his sofa, he thought. But it serves him right for making me work on Christmas Eve.

With his last bit of strength, Scott rolled off the couch onto the carpet, so that Flynn could stretch out. He lay on his back, panting, feeling what he knew was a silly grin spread across his face. “Damn, that was great. Thanks!”

Flynn's hand snaked down to give his a squeeze. “I'm the one who should thank you.” The artist propped himself up on one elbow and smiled down at Scott, his eyes glowing. “Now I know what I've been missing!”

Yeah, well, you shouldn't have any trouble pleasing a lover after this.” Scott swung up to a sitting position and planted a kiss on the other man's laughing mouth. “Though you still might want to buy one of the plugs – just for practice.”

I'd rather practice with a partner.”

Well, I know lots of couples who are into anal toys...!”

They both giggled, then fell silent, awkward after their recent communion.

I should close up the shop. It must be really late.”

Yeah. Christmas already. Merry Christmas, Scott.”

Same to you.” Scott peered around the office, trying to figure out what he'd done with his briefs. By the time he found them, he discovered, to his intense regret, that Flynn had already donned his trousers. Their eyes met.

So, are you spending the holidays with your family?”

Scott snorted. “Fat chance. They pretty much disowned me when I told them I was gay. Anyway, they're out in California.” He looked down at the fingers buttoning his shirt, not wanting Flynn to see the moisture in his eyes. “I figured I'd do some studying.”

Hmm. Do you want to come me with me to my mom's place out in Armonk?” Flynn forced Scott to look at him, then rewarded him with a deep kiss. “Nobody should be alone on Christmas.”

Flynn's lips reawakened Scott's excitement. He groped Flynn's crotch and discovered that his companion was hardening too. “I'd love to – but are your parents okay with you bringing a guy – a lover – to Christmas dinner?” Lover. The word kindled a new kind of warmth in his belly, something he hadn't felt in a very long time.


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