Sample Some Forbidden Fruit

An Interview with Harper Bliss, part of the Forbidden Fruit Blog Tour! 

 

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Lisabet Sarai: Greetings, Harper! I'm delighted to have you back at Beyond Romance, and really pleased to be in the Forbidden Fruit anthology with you. I know you're a prolific writer with many single-author titles to your credit. Why did you decide to submit to this group collection?

Harper Bliss: So happy to be a guest here again, Lisabet. Thank you for having me. Well, I submitted a story to Forbidden Fruit for many reasons. The most important one being that Cheyenne Blue is the editor. Of course, I must also mention that I co-own Ladylit (publisher of Forbidden Fruit) and that being able to work on this anthology with Cheyenne is, truly, one of my dreams come true. Apart from that, I love lesbian erotica anthologies and I firmly believe there should be more of them (Cheyenne and I are working on that!) ;-) All of that being said, I’m chuffed to bits with how the table of contents turned out, and it’s a true honour for me to find my name amongst all these fabulous authors.

LS: On a broader note, what impels you to write lesbian fiction? Is this the only genre you write?

HB: It is the only genre I write. The quick and very simple answer is that I write lesbian erotica and romance because I’m a lesbian and I can’t imagine not seeing my identity reflected in the books I write. I also write lesbian fiction because this is the genre I love more than anything. I’m always so offended when someone asks me my why I don’t include more straight characters in my stories (and believe me, I get this question often!) My standard reply: “Percentage-wise, of all the books in the world, how many of them feature non-LGBT characters? Go read one of those.”

Also, within lesbian fiction, there are many sub-genres. I started out as an erotica writer, but, as time goes by, I find myself gravitating towards romance much more (although I can never help but include a few steamy scenes.) For the past months, I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a spy thriller about a really kick-ass (lesbian!) woman. I have the main character all mapped out in my head, and I can definitely see myself write something like that someday. I guess what I’m trying to say is that, in the future, I may write in many genres, but (most of) my characters will always be lesbians.

LS: The term “forbidden fruit”, of course, refers to the Biblical story of Adam and Eve. In that tale, the apple is forbidden because it imparts knowledge of good and evil. Are there any echoes of this notion in your tale?

HB: My story is not so much about good and evil. It’s more about crossing a line that, perhaps, shouldn’t be crossed (which makes it all the more compelling to cross.) By the way, I’d really like to take this opportunity to thank the amazing Cheyenne Blue for coming up with the awesome theme for this anthology. I wanted to read it long before the call for submissions went out!

LS: Have you ever partaken of “forbidden fruit” yourself? Care to share with my readers?

HB: Gosh, what a devilish question! And a good one, too. I may need to ask the same one to my interviewee on this blog tour. ;-) I’ve racked my brain and my answer is a firm no. As dramatic as my stories are, I’m as straight-laced as they come. My wife may disagree, but, all in all, I’m a really good girl. I do have a very vivid imagination, and I won’t say I’ve never fantasized about plucking a juicy piece of forbidden fruit, but it’s not in my nature to act upon these things.

LS: Please tell us a bit about your story, “Freedom”, and how it fits the anthology theme.

HB: “Freedom” tells the story of Ella, recently dumped by her long-term girlfriend, who runs into her ex-mother-in-law. They both turn into forbidden fruit for each other. I’ve always liked the older/younger woman dynamic (and I’ve written many stories about it), but I wanted to take it a bit further and create more of a taboo atmosphere. These two women used to know each other quite well, so the connection is already there. Then there’s the fact that the very person who brought them together in the first place, this girl—daughter to one and ex to to the other—they both love, will, ultimately, bring them together again in a not so obvious, but inevitable (and quite sexy) way.

Excerpt:

The city sidewalks are crowded, so I walk behind Brooke until the ocean of people clears up and we arrive at one of the posh streets alongside the park.

“The house simply got too big. You’ve no idea of the amount of maintenance a place like that requires, and just for little old me. I was fed up with it.” She gestures at a building a few feet away. “I live there now and I can walk everywhere. It’s fabulous.”

“I bet,” I say, as I follow her inside, past an obsequiously nodding doorman.

Brooke occupies one of the lower floor apartments, but the view of the park is still breathtaking.

“Lovely.” I scan the living room and recognize some pieces of furniture from the old house. I’m surprised Jamie didn’t talk her mother into getting rid of that sofa, considering what we once did in it. Twice, actually…

“Now, for that drink.” Brooke shrugs off her coat and heads to a cabinet in the corner of the living room. “Do you still like a good brandy?”

“Oh yes.” I perk up at the mention of it.

She grabs the bottle and two brandy snifters, and deposits them on the coffee table, gesturing for me to take a seat next to her.

After pouring us both a generous amount, she hands me a glass and clinks the fat belly of her glass to mine. “You look good, Ella, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Thanks.” Immediately, a flush burns on the skin of my cheeks. I wasn’t expecting a compliment. The brandy helps. Now both my throat and my cheeks burn.

“How are you coping with being alone?” She draws her lips into a lopsided grin. “As you well know, I’m an expert at that particular activity.”

I asked Jamie a dozen times, shaking my head in disbelief, why a beautiful, classy woman like her mother would prefer to remain single for so long after her father’s death. “She likes her independence,” Jamie would say. “And why don’t you ask her yourself if you’re so keen to find out?” I wouldn’t have dreamed of asking that question back then, and now Brooke practically brings it up herself.

“It sucks.” My eloquence has let me down a lot since the break-up. “I mean, I’m not very good at it. How do you, um, go about it?”

“Jamie may have been foolish enough to let you go, but you won’t be alone for long, Ella. I’m sure of that.” She brings her lips to the glass and sips. “As for me, I just can’t seem to find anyone to my taste. Let’s just say some of my preferences have changed since Gareth and I got married.” She locks her eyes on mine and drags the tip of her tongue across her teeth.

I drink to recover from the sudden intensity surrounding us, from the change of air. What am I doing here, anyway? I look away and my eyes land on a picture of Jamie, all blond and healthy and beautiful. Brooke’s hair is blond as well, but more golden and quite probably dyed.

“I should go,” I say, suddenly overwhelmed by an alien emotion. I can’t identify it as grief or anger—the two main ones I’ve been suffering from of late. It’s more a mixture of apprehension and the rush of being flattered by a member of the Stevens family. I don’t get up, though. I remain firmly planted in my seat.

“Stay.” Brooke reaches for the bottle and refills my glass, which isn’t even empty yet.

*****

The next stop on the Forbidden Fruit blog tour is Harper Bliss (http://harperbliss.com/) who is interviewing Rachel O. Esplanade 

Leave a comment on any post in the Forbidden Fruit blog tour to be entered into a random draw to win one of these great prizes.  Prizes include a paperback copy of Girls Who Score, lesbian sports erotica edited by Ily Goyanes, Best Lesbian Romance 2011 edited by Radclyffe, Wild Girls, Wild Nights: True Lesbian Sex Stories edited by Sacchi Green, an ebook of Ladylit’s first lesbian anthology Anything She Wants, and a bundle of three mini-anthologies from Ladylit: Sweat, A Christmas to Remember and Bossy.  All of these titles contain some stories written by the fabulous contributors to Forbidden Fruit: stories of unwise lesbian desire. You must include an email address in  your comment to be entered into the draw.

Forbidden Fruit: stories of unwise lesbian desire is available direct from the publisher, Ladylit (http://www.ladylit.com/books/forbidden-fruit/) or from Amazon, Smashwords, and other good retailers of ebooks.  Check out http://www.ladylit.com/books/forbidden-fruit/ for all purchasing information.

Sunday Snog #132: The First Stone

I'm sharing a minimalist kiss today, from my lesbian short story "The First Stone", scheduled to appear in Cheyenne Blue's anthology Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian Desire. We just got the cover, and I wanted an excuse to share it. ;^)

My story deals with the attraction between a nun who works at a half-way house for women and an ex-junkie prostitute. Is that forbidden enough for you?

When you're through with my excerpt, head back to Blisse Kiss Central, for lots more sweet and sexy Sunday kisses!

Kitchen duties rotated among all the occupants of Serenity House, myself included. I was working on supper one night when Magnolia traipsed into the room, wearing a scarlet silk scarf wrapped around her head, leopard-patterned leggings and a Harvard University tee shirt.

“Hi, Sister. It's my turn to help out tonight.”

“Good evening, Magnolia. Can you deal with the potatoes?”

“Sure thing.” Her breasts hung free underneath her shirt. They swayed hypnotically as she grabbed the peeler and attacked the mound of tubers with her usual energy.

I forced my attention back to chopping garlic, onions and peppers for the meat loaves. I honestly didn't trust myself to look up.

We worked together in silence for five or ten minutes. I sauteed the vegetables, mixed them with ten pounds of ground beef, added eggs, tarragon, basil, massive amounts of black pepper and a tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce, and pressed the mixture into the odd assortment of pans the house owned. Once I had the loaves in the oven, I could escape to my room for an hour.

“Heard you were married once, Sister. That true?”

Oh, God! “Um – yes. More than ten years ago.”

“So you ain't no virgin.”

Startled, I looked up from the meat loaves. Heat shimmered through me. Despite her tone of levity, she was not smiling. The knowledge I saw in her eyes scared me.

“No – Tony and I – we -” I choked on my own words as tears gathered.

“You can tell me, Sister.”

It poured out of me before I could stop myself, the whole sordid story. The fairy tale wedding of Kathy Gallagher and her high school sweetheart Anthony Manzetti, with both enormous families in attendance. The all-too-brief flare of passion. Then Tony's cancer, diagnosed on our second anniversary, and the years of treatment: chemo, radiation, surgery, more chemo. Remissions and the rekindling of hope. Relapses and despair. I'd cared for him through it all: the sweats and the vomiting, the rashes and the sores, the terrible, terrible pain. Everyone praised my strength and courage. A saint, they'd called me.

Two days after his funeral, I'd slit my wrists.

I'd awakened in St. Margaret's Hospital, bandaged and restrained. An elderly nun sat by my bedside, stern and sorrowful. The weight of memory crushed me.

“Why did you save me?” I'd asked, so weak I could barely whisper. “You should have let me die.”

“For shame, child. Your life is a gift from God. How dare you throw it away, when you could be using it to help others?”

“Haven't I done enough, taking care of Tony all those years?”

“Apparently not, since your soul is not at peace.”

I shuddered at the recollection. Scalding tears streamed down my cheeks. Magnolia slipped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me against her pillowy chest. Lost in grief and self-pity, I scarcely noticed, at least for a moment.

She stroked my cropped hair. “Poor baby. Seems to me that becoming a nun yourself – well that was a bit much, wasn't it?” A sense of comfort stole over me. Her floral aroma mingled with the kitchen spices. “Maybe you chose wrong.”

She pressed her lips to my forehead. Terror and arousal streaked through me in alternating waves. I struggled against her entangling arms. “No, no,” I babbled. “Sin – suicide is a mortal sin – I had to atone...”

Magnolia released me with a deep sigh. “Ain't you done enough penance, Sister?”

I rushed upstairs to my room without answering, her scent clinging to my clothing, the mark of her lips branded on my forehead. 

Writers’ Downtime

By Cheyenne Blue (Guest Blogger)

I’ve been a fan of Lisabet’s writing for a long, long time. So I’m very happy to be here on her blog today. Thanks, Lisabet!

If you’re like me, you read a lot of other writers’ blogs. I’m often in awe of their productivity and word counts. Write every day. Write often. Write all the time. Write 1,000 words a day. 1,000? That’s for pussycats. 10,000 is more like it! There are books a-plenty telling us how to increase our word counts, and outline our novels.

Then there are productivity tools: Scrivener, Write or Die, Evernote, editorial calendars, Focus Booster. I use Write or Die when I’m desperate, and I’m easing my way into Scrivener, but basically I use good ol’ unembellished Word.

Writers talk about the importance of keeping the bum on the seat, turning off Twitter, letting the laundry pile up until you have no clean knickers left, because what is more important than The Muse? A writer’s life is a driven one, and sometimes I get the impression that to be a Proper Writer you need to write all the time, and when you’re not writing you’re reading a book about writing, boning up on the esoteric features of Scrivener, thinking about writing, or studying strangers, family, and friends so that you can write about them later.

Obviously this works for some people, but it doesn’t work for me – not on a constant basis. Yes, sometimes I’m like that, but not every day, every week, every month. When I’ve got a deadline, or I’m sucked into a story such that it consumes me, then yes, my bum is welded to that seat with the best of them.

I’ve got an upcoming story in Cowboy Heat: Western Romance for Women, an anthology of erotic cowboy stories edited by Delilah Devlin, which will be released by Cleis Press in June 2014. My story, “Cowboy Downtime” is about what cowboys do to relax. Because it’s not all roping and branding and mustering and feeding and fencing. My cowboys, Mel and Jake, play polocrosse for sport, a rugged Australian-invented game played on horseback that’s a million miles away from the refined English version of polo. Relax they do. ;)

Like Mel and Jake, writers need downtime. I sure as hell do. I need to turn my brain off from words and how they sound and what they mean. I need time away from the computer, from writing, blogging, tweeting, reading, time to rest my eyes and let my brain sink down into a peaceful blue mist of relaxation. I also need time to work at my other job, and time to spend with my loved ones. Time to keep fit, to look after my health, to recharge with the beauty of landscape around me. Time to laugh with friends, eat good food, and watch Battlestar Galactica for the third time. Time for a glass (or three) of wine and a whole packet of Tim Tams.

This life experience, this downtime, is a large part of what keeps people fresh, and I think it holds true whether you’re a cardiologist saving lives or an erotica writer saving sex lives.

Sure, you can swing the other way and there is such a thing as too much downtime. I could procrastinate for Queensland when I’m in the mood, but sometimes I need to go down the beach and jump in the surf. Or grocery shopping.

We’re writing about life – make sure you’re having one somewhere in there.

Finally, just to prove it’s not all about the downtime, I’m dropping in my current Call for Submissions. I hope that some of you productive (and non-procrastinating) writers will send me a story.

Cheyenne Blue

Cheyenne Blue’s erotica has appeared in over 90 erotic anthologies since 2000 and she’s still going. She lives and writes by the beach in Queensland, Australia. Visit her website at http://www.cheyenneblue.com or find her on Twitter @iamcheyenneblue

Cowboy Heat on Amazon 

Link for the CFS if you prefer to link: http://www.cheyenneblue.com/#/archives/556

Forbidden Fruit: stories of unwise lesbian desire

Editor: Cheyenne Blue

Publisher: Ladylit (www.ladylit.com)

Deadline: 15 May 2014

Payment: US$40.00 plus a copy of e-book and paperback

Rights: First worldwide digital rights and print rights.

Forbidden Fruit. She’s off limits but the attraction burns so bright it’s impossible to resist.

Cheyenne Blue is seeking stories of lesbian passion on this theme. Think teacher and student. A best friend’s ex—or current—lover. A monogamous couple tempted by a threesome. A traveler leaving on the next plane. A much younger—or older—woman. A straight woman. The bad girl heartbreaker. The attraction between characters should scorch the pages and sexual tension is as important as the actual sex. As for the sex, think hot and desperate. Think once-to-get-it-out-of-our-system sex. Or this-really-is-the-last-time sex.

Please note the usual no-nos still apply: no incest / underage sex / rape / necrophilia / bestiality / scat. No poetry please.

Preferred length: 2500 – 5000 words

Unpublished stories strongly preferred, although a couple of reprints might be used. Reprints must be solely owned by the author.

US English. Please submit a double-spaced Microsoft Word document, using a 12-point serif font, such as Georgia or Times New Roman. One inch margins. If using a pen name, include both real and pen name on the manuscript.

Send your story as a .doc or .rtf file attachment to Cheyenne Blue at forbiddenfruitantho@gmail.com. Please include Forbidden Fruit and your story title in the subject line.

In the body of the email please include your legal name, pseudonym, a short bio, and previous publication information if the story is a reprint.

Established authors welcomed, newcomers encouraged. I look forward to reading your work.

All submissions acknowledged within 3 days and acceptances notified by 15 June 2014.

About the editor: Cheyenne Blue’s erotic fiction has been included in over 90 erotic anthologies since 2000. Under her own name she has written travel books and articles, and edited anthologies of local writing in Ireland.