SLAVE is now a full time reviewer for Guys Like Romance, Too!

Please note that SLAVE's Erotic Review is on hiatus to catch up on reviews.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

A lesbian assasin? Cool!

Greetings everyone!

And big, big thanks to Carson and Jaxx for making room for me and my sexy lesbian assassin on the blog this month. I’m here to talk about my newest novella, Nightshade, a contemporary story featuring Wynne, a woman with a troubled past and a deadly profession.

Nightshade is my first lesbian novella. Before this, I’d only written full length novels featuring love stories with soul-dripping sex and butch-next-door types. My protagonist, Wynne, has appeared in two of my previous novels as a minor trouble-making character but something about her was always screaming for a full-length story where she gets to kick ass and end up with a love (or lust) of her own. Nightshade is the result of all that screaming. This is not a cuddly story because Wynne is not the cuddly type, but it does feature delicious twists and turns, hot women, and the occasional use of Wynne’s killer body in a sexual capacity. I hope you enjoy it.

- Fiona

Nightshade Blurb

Assassin, Wynne St. Just has a knack for finding trouble, usually in the form of a beautiful woman. After fulfilling a haunting contract on her sister’s childhood friend and former employee, she takes off for the Caribbean and business as usual; but danger waits for her in the most unexpected places.

With an endless appetite for luscious variety, Wynne courts danger and pleasure from all corners of the globe. But she must wrestle with her own demons as she trades kisses and blows with some of the deadliest women in the business. She’s been lucky in all her years in the game but will a young woman bent on revenge become her Achilles heel?


It was raining. The smell of damp earth and rain-battered flowers rose up from the garden below to sink into the stone and steel of the large circular balcony where Wynne stood. Alone. From behind, the sound of laughter lifted suddenly above the sensuous base pounding from hidden speakers. The women looked exquisite; moist and hard in leathers, soft and feminine in silks, or dark and inviting in velvets. They could fulfill any fantasy, any decadent wish. For a price. Celeste’s women. Only the very wealthy could afford them, and only the desperate—and in some cases, the desperately bored—became one of them. Wynne’s sister planned it that way: an exclusive supply to meet any demand. Celeste was an enterprising woman, but Wynne knew only too well that she was deadly. A trickster in the clothing of a benevolent.
            At midnight the place already reeked of bartered sex and hashish. Wynne hoped she would come soon. It was getting warm and crowded. A woman stumbled out from the party, laughing at the serving girl she pulled roughly along with her. The girl seemed delicate and vulnerable with her violet dress and soft mouth. Her bare arms were bruised, but she didn’t protest. This was just another game to her. Celeste paid her well enough not to fight. The woman dragged her to a corner of the balcony farthest from Wynne, barely ten feet away. She pushed up the skirts of her black dress. Before the girl could sink obediently to her knees, the woman grabbed her hair and pulled her face down into her shaved pussy.
            Wynne leaned back against the railing to watch them. The girl’s pretty pink tongue worked the woman’s pussy, darting over the full cunt lips and clit like a hummingbird until she could no longer hold back her moans. She guided the girl with rough pulls of her hair, grunting and gasping when her whore gave her what she paid for, making her come with a muffled shout and a thin spray of cum that caught the girl full in the face. The woman’s eyes met Wynne’s above the servant’s head and Wynne nodded once in acknowledgement. She didn’t stay to see what else the woman had in mind for the girl.

To read more about Wynne, find the book at:

To find out more about me, see my website at:

To read the other books where Wynne makes her appearance, check out

Desiree Nichols is no stranger to heartbreak, but when her hot, young boyfriend abandons her after two years of being together, Dez's foundations begin to crumble. To make matters worse, a family crisis is calling her home to face the people she left behind, the ones who never accepted her as anything but trouble. Fine. If that's how they see her, she'll rise to the occasion. Miami's hot, sultry nightlife offers plenty of opportunities for a girl to drown her disappointments, and Dez wastes no time hooking up with her old friends. Together, she and her girlfriends prowl the town, attending private parties where every fantasy can be fulfilled, every desire satisfied with no strings attached. The last thing on Dez's mind is finding bliss in the arms of a seductive new partner who couldn't be more different from her ex—and who awakens in her a hunger she tries to deny. But that's exactly what happens.
Now, in clandestine couplings at four-star restaurants, sizzling explorations in downtown sex clubs, and private romantic dinners where sensual boundaries are pushed and hearts are laid bare, two lovers will awaken in each other an intense, soul-deep passion that could change their lives forever.

Rémi Bouchard has enjoyed more than her fare share of delicious trysts amidst the seductive sounds and glittering lights of South Beach. With good looks, limitless sex appeal, and the wealth and popularity that comes from owning the city’s hottest jazz bar and restaurant, Rémi can seduce just about anyone she wants. But lately, the allure of wild one-night stands and no-strings flings is starting to wear thin. Rémi craves something more—and what Rémi wants, Rémi gets.
At her best friend’s wedding, Rémi looks across the crowd and finds exactly what she’s been searching for—an intense, soul-searing connection. Now, on a journey of sensual exploration that will take her from decadent after-hours clubs to South Beach’s most elegant nightspots, Rémi engages in a tantalizing dance of seduction. But passion this deep has its dangers—especially when it means falling in love with the one person who should be off limits.

**Want to enter the drawing to win a free e-book of Nightshade? Log onto Fiona’s Facebook author page, “LIKE” it, and leave the comment “Enter Me” on the page. Winners will be announced via my newsletter, Facebook page, and blog on June 20th.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Here kitty, kitty, kitty...

Want to hear something awful?  I'm the crazy cat lady with ten cats, and I play favorites. Top spot normally rotates among a dim but gorgeous angora-soft long haired calico, an aggressively affectionate (and jealous) black short hair, a dignified tabby tom who devotedly mothers kittens, and little Kismet. Yeah, this is about Kismet. He's a purr-crazy, semi-long haired, black kitten with two white eyelashes and three white whiskers, and he will never tip the scale at five pounds.

I wrote nearly every word of my Lesbians vs Zombies story, Dead Kitties Don't Purr, with Kismet purring in my lap or nestled in a cage beside me. Why a cage? Because he got a horrendous shoulder fracture that required weeks of total confinement. When he finally regained free run of the house, he came down with what seemed to be a series of bladder infections. He ate almost nothing, even when tempted with shreds of chicken, and stopped growing. His hind end went to crumpling under him, and he walked like Bambi on ice. We thought he'd had a stroke, but he got better and worse, better and worse. Only when one of his litter-mates came down sick did we get a diagnosis: FIP. It's a mutation of corona virus. He's got the dry form and his sister has the wet form. He may last months, but it's not likely.

So now that you're bummed out with me, let's talk about my story. Dead Kitties Don't Purr, or Dead Kitties for short, has become a horribly ironic title.

Dead Kitties is the second act of Lesbians vs Zombies: The Musical Revue. In the lull following the first outbreak of the Z-virus, Camie's big tabby was taken for precautionary euthanasia and Camie herself was shipped off to college at the other end of the state, in what's supposed to be a safe area. Only nowhere is safe, and now she's hiding among strangers, dodging both the law and the z-things, without even her cat for comfort. What she does have is grad student Risa and a noisily affectionate new kitten. "Risa" of course means "laughter," the human version of purring. It wasn't meant to be the most subtle allusion in the story. Originally, Risa's little cat was modeled in every way on my little Kismet. Later, he got a coloration makeover in homage to TCT, antic creation of my buddy KevaD, who wrote The Zombie With Flowers in Her Hair. Ever read KevaD? You should. His story opened the first act of our revue. But TCT isn't in TZWFIHH. So let's get back to the zombies:

People who take their shots and do as they're told have nothing to fear, right?
The Rabies Z epidemic began and ended in Miami this past summer, didn't it? And that guy at the Jacksonville airport last week was just having an epileptic fit. No cause for alarm. Epilepsy always causes an eighteen-hour hazmat shutdown at a major airport.
So while my twin tours to flog her newest album, here I am, Camie Invisible, parked at this nice, safe college—as far as I can get from the infection and still pay in-state tuition. Only now, my studies have become focused on the fascinating Risa Ruiz. And she has eyes for me.
Isn't this the perfect time for the z-things to show up?

Buy links: 

Random commenter wins an LvZ tee.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Love it or Leave it! The joys of erotic romance!

Hi. My name is Beth Wylde and I write lesbian erotica! My stories feature graphic sexual descriptions between consenting adults of various kinks, colors, genders and orientations.
There I said it. I meant it too.
Now that may sound like the introduction for a twelve step program but I can promise you it isn’t intended to be. Group meetings are for people who want to give their habit up. I’m just fine with what I do. I’m not ashamed of what I like and I’m not doing it for fame or fortune. (If I was, I definitely wouldn’t be writing GLBT erotica. I’d have picked something a lot more mainstream. LOL)
If writing smut is an addiction, I’m definitely not looking for a cure. I’m proud to be an author of kinky, naughty, graphic, girl on girl sex. When writing legitimate sex scenes between consenting adults becomes a crime I’ll gladly bend over and assume the position. Someone remember the handcuffs please!
When I first got the acceptance for my newest release, Born to Ride, in DL King’s The Harder She Comes anthology I let loose with a shout so loud I’m sure people in foreign countries heard me.
I’d been trying to get a story in a Cleis antho for quite some time, but what I was writing just wasn’t clicking with the calls or the editors. My rejection emails were pleasant, telling me the stories I sent in were well written and extremely HOT, but they just didn’t fit in with the other submissions. I knew what the problem was but I had no clue how to fix it.
I was trying to mold my stories to fit the submission calls instead of writing a story from the heart. I write erotica because I enjoy it. I put a piece of my heart and soul into every tale I type. There’s just something different that shines through when a storyline is based on something the author is passionate about instead of the essay feeling you get when you try to force out a story based on a subject you’re given. When I saw DL King’s butch/femme call I knew fate had finally shined on me. I didn’t have to tailor a story to a sub call, there was a sub call tailored to my story.
Writing about sexy femmes and hot, muscular butches getting horizontal and vertical and kinky, or any combination of the above, is something of an obsession of mine. There’s just something about a strong strapping butch showing her femme lots of love and affection that gets my juices flowing. No pun intended.
And if the butch is inclined to get a bit rough and introduce some off the wall interests too? Well that’s even better. I have a kinky streak that’s rather wide and still developing so I like exploring new territory.
That’s another fun thing I often included in my writing. Though my stories are published as fiction, and a lot of what I write comes directly from my twisted imagination, quite often my storylines originate from real life events. Readers will always find a bit of reality thrown in. I love it when everyday occurrences find a home in one of my books. It makes the characters come alive for me and I believe it makes the story better for readers too.
You can tell the difference right away between a sex scene someone is trying to force their way through and something taking place on the page that really turns the author on. I think writing about sex should get the author all hot and bothered. I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t. Writing action scenes should get you pumped up, Sad stories should make you cry and good erotica should leave you wet and panting.
Lately I’ve become a bit like Pavlov’s dog. Just sitting in my computer chair and hearing the sound of my comp roaring to life can get me aroused. It makes getting into the mood to write something sexy so much easier, but it’s been hell on my budget. Comp chairs don’t seem to hold up as well as they once did. (I’ll leave those details to your imagination)
The day I stop getting turned on is the day I stop writing erotica. Until then I’ll leave you, the reader, to guess what’s real and what isn’t.
For a peak inside my mind and what turns me on check out my website. You can also order an autographed print copy from me of any of my print books and I’ll give you free shipping if you mention this blog post. You have to email me direct to take advantage of this at

To get in on the chance to win a free ebook copy of the new anthology written by my lesbian author's group, Sapphic Planet, the book is named after the group since it was our first ever project. Simply email me the names of at least three of my lesbian themed stories I have out now. You can find the answers on the books page of my website at
(hint: quite a few of my stand alone lesbian ebooks are in my personal print anthology Women Gone Wylde, which is the first book listed. The titles are in bold. ^_^)
  I'll take contest entries until midnight on the 24th and I will pick a winner and email the lucky person on the following day so be sure to include the email address you want em to respond to. 
Happy reading!

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Female vampires rule!

Hello bloggers!
First, I’d like to thank Carson and all the authors that contribute here for letting us break into your fun and share our work too. I am Dana Littlejohn author of erotic and sensual romance. I write M/F and F/F erotic romances. Many of my followers have asked me how did I start writing lesbian romance since I have been hetero predominantly my whole career. Well, it all began as an accident really.
The first one I wrote was Wrong Valentine. As I wrote Shante's story I first wondered what she would do if her boyfriend sent her a female Valentine-O-Gram, but Shante had other ideas for her story. She thought the story would work better if the valentine was meant for someone else and she ended up with it. What did she do? What would you do in that situation? Well, I finished her story and found it was very well received so I did another and the rest, I guess, is history. LOL

Shante was single, happy and ready for Valentine's Day. She planned a delicious dinner, music and a little self indulgence to celebrate her single-hood. Her evening was going well until someone else's Valentine O Gram showed up at her door. Should she get dressed and make sure it goes to the proper place or does she reap the benefits of someone else's mistake? available at Phaze

My next F/F work was a vampire series I simply called Lady Vampires. It is a 3 book series, Sweet Tooth, What a Ride! and Bobbie Rocks! I love vampires and have written a few hetero vampire romances. I wanted my female vampires to have the allure, mystery and sensuality that that their male counterparts. Not only in my books, but in the hundreds of other books I have read. They are in search of love and have the ability to pursue it just as aggressively. The women in my series represent all types of lesbian women from the flawless make-up, hair done up, sexy girly-girls to the jeans, t-shirt, Timberland boot wearing, short crop hair cut having lebians, too. Here is a peek inside.

Book 1-Sweet Tooth
Sasha had been alone for many years. Lately she began to think it was time for her to take a mate. When she spotted the beautiful Candice, she wanted her at first sight. Distracted to frenzy Sasha enlisted aid from a friend and put a plan into action to claim her for her own.


The gaze was so intense Candice had to turn away to continue to pull the lingerie over her shoulders. The dark lace brushed against her sensitive breasts and she bit her lip to suppress a moan. The garment cinched her waist, lifted her breasts seductively, and gave her legs an elongated appearance. Candice slipped into the shoes, turned to the photographer and smiled. Sasha returned her smile, but didn‘t speak. She merely extended her hand toward the couch.
Sasha removed a makeup kit and a soft brush from her bag. Gently she brushed her dark coils on her head, styling them the way she wanted. Eyeliner, shadow, blush and lipstick followed. Sasha turned her face to and fro then smiled again, apparently satisfied with the results.
“Now, lay back with your legs stretched out.”
Candice did as requested. Sasha picked up her camera and snapped pictures. Besides the occasional directive words—turn your head, look this way, smile, no smile, open your legs, bend your knees, twist at the waist, change clothes—the only other sounds in the room was the shutter clicking. After two hours and five outfit changes, Sasha lowered her camera and returned it to her bag.
“I think that‘s enough pictures for now.”
“You want me to change outfits again?”
Sasha shook her head negatively. “Tell me something, Can—” Her head snapped around to look over her shoulder. “Can I call you Candy?”
A small grin touched Sasha‘s luscious lips. “Why did you want these pictures? Are they for someone special?”
Lifting her gaze to Sasha‘s mesmerizing eyes, she felt her heart hammering in her chest. ”I don‘t have anyone special in my life right now,” she confessed. “I just wanted some really pretty pictures of myself while I am young and beautiful. I mean, I won‘t always look like this, right? In these pictures I will be young forever.”
Sasha moved closer to her. “Is that something you desire? To be young forever?”
Candice chuckled. “Who doesn‘t dream of that as they get older?” she asked rhetorically.
“Mmm, but what if I told you that I could do that for you?”
“You are doing that…with your pictures.”
“No, I mean really do it?”
Candice smiled amusingly and rolled to her side on the couch. “What? Make me look like this forever?”
She rested her temple on her fist. “I‘d ask you what kind of magic you have.”
“No magic involved, but it is within my power to do so,” Sasha said confidently.
Candice felt like Sasha was looking right through her as she came even closer. “How is that possible?”
“I am unique,” she told her softly.
Sasha sat beside her, pushing onto the settee until Candice had no choice but to lay back. She blatantly leaned over Candice‘s breast and inhaled loudly moving up her neck.
“I don‘t have the words to express how lovely you look in this outfit.” Her fingers brushed along the curvature of her breasts and up her throat. “Your skin is as white as porcelain. It makes your ebony curls look even darker. From the first time I laid eyes on you, I‘ve wondered if your pussy would taste as sweet as your name suggests,” she murmured boldly fingering her hair.

Book 2- What a Ride!
Tamika James had just accepted a job in Boston. Although she was still single, Tamika was feeling optimistic about her life. During the train ride back to New York she met the beautiful Cassandra and the circumstance catapulted her into a new world she didn't really know existed.


Tamika could not tear her eyes away Cassandra’s burning gaze. Suddenly the muscles in her stomach tightened. Her heart rate accelerated and her palms were instantly clammy. Tamika gasped deeply as a shutter went through her body. Excited, her nipples tightened encased in her bra and her pussy throbbed mercilessly as if someone was stroking her clit. The erogenous zones all over her body were on one accord and ached with sexual tension in unison. Finally, Cassandra blinked and turned away from Tamika and she was freed. Her body slowly returned to normal.
"Well then Tamika, what shall we do with our time?" Cassandra asked pleasantly.
Cassandra’s voice broke the last dregs of her sexual haze.
"We’ve got a few more hours before we are back in the city," she continued.
Tamika’s gaze shifted left to right unable to really focus. Her hand rested on her chest as she searched her brain for clarity on what had just happened to her. She had never gotten so hot and horny like that in anyone’s presence before. The panties she wore were soaked. Her orgasm was so close she continued to ache in need of it. Looking over at Cassandra only increased the growing feelings. She wanted her so bad. She may be confused about what just happened here, but she was clear about the attraction she had for the woman.
Cassandra sat across from her waiting for an answer. Tamika gave her a dumbfounded look as a response. After a few moments, Cassandra gave her a knowing smile and leaned forward to rest her hands on Tamika’s knees.
"Why don’t we take the edge off first, shall we?"
Tamika nodded still unable to find her voice. A chill ran across her heated skin as Cassandra slipped her hand up the small skirt around her thighs. A heady rush of desire sent another moist flood from her pussy onto her already drenched panties that pushed a stuttering moan pass her lips. When Cassandra’s fingers reached her drenched underwear, pressure was applied to her throbbing clit.

Book 3- Bobbie Rocks!
Roxie stayed under the radar for years moving from city to city to stay in the designing business. Thoughts of taking a permanent mate were put on the back burner years ago. When her friend Melina brought her to an adult toy store to prepare for a party she meets Bobbie. Although she had no intention on keeping her, she had every intention on having her for the night, but Roxie had no idea that Bobbie had other plans for her.


“I’m so glad you came, Roxie.”
“Thank you for inviting me."
“Come on, girl. You knew I was interested,” Bobbie said with a knowing grin meeting her stare. “I had to get you back in here. That sweet looking ass of yours was calling to me, baby girl…that and other things. I had to take my best shot. I’m just glad you came back to give me that shot.”
Roxie was taken aback by her open aggressiveness. No woman had ever come on to her like that. She was at a loss for words. Bobbie seemed to recognize her uneasiness and chuckled.
“Relax, baby girl, it’s all good. Come on, let’s walk around. I will show you a few of my best sellers.”
Bobbie offered her hand and Roxie accepted. She pulled her around the room explaining different apparatuses when they came across one that caught Roxie’s attention. The object was similar to something she had seen years ago, but the contraption was strangely different somehow. Bobbie held it aloft. Her hands gripped the dark straps to spread them wide as buckles dangles on either side. In the middle two perfectly formed cocks hung opposite one another. A white cord hung down to the bed extending from the back of one of the dildos that led to a black battery pack that still sat on the shelf.
“What is it?”
In answer to Roxie’s query, Bobbie took Roxie's hand and placed it on the anatomically correct toy. The covering was warm and pliable like real skin, but was obviously made from some type of silicone jelly-like substance. Touching the artificial material was exciting. With her eyes closed and no prior knowledge, Roxie wondered if she’d be able to tell the difference in a dark room.
"If you’d like, we could put their statement to the test. I could give you a firsthand demonstration," Bobbie offered boldly returning the dido to the table.
Roxie's eyes widened with her shock. "Are you serious?"
"Oh yes. I’m very serious. I’m a woman that goes for what she wants, Roxie, and I want you. I can make you happy…in and out of bed if you give me the chance."

You can find Lady Vampires at Secret Craving Publishing.

Dana Littlejohn

SLAVE's reviews

Sweet Tooth:
Sasha, Candice and Jasmine were believable. Though the story was brief, this story held my attention from the first page to the last. Jasmine, as a secondary character set the tone of the sensuality. The main characters used that to take the readers to the story’s orgasmic end. A great read. A short that stands tall among its peers.
5 of 5 refills!

What a Ride!
Tamika was the passenger on this great ride with Cassandra as the conductor. This book is aptly named because that is what the main character, Tamika, is taken for. There was a time when I was a little confused when Cassandra was bringing Tamika up to speed on her life, so I took ½ a pen. However, What a Ride has an easy start that escalates to a great lunch time readable orgasm.
3 ½ of 5 pens

Bobbie Rocks!
The main character, Roxie, sets out for a night of lust and a good meal, but quickly learns she is on the menu. This story rose in crescendo. Seduction was throughout the book and the one sex scene was worth the wait. I enjoyed the characters and the story set up and the ending was fun and unexpected.
4 of 5 pens

Overall, Dana Littlejohn’s Lady Vampires are a recommended read, whether you’re alone or sharing them with your partner. Her characters are believable and beautifully alive. They can bite me anytime!

Wrong Valentine
Shante had every intention on spending a romantic, self induced pleasurable Valentine's night alone...boy! was she wrong! This book shows the benefits of being in the right place at the wrong time or the wrong place at the right time...whichever way you decide on, you just want to be there! Wrong Valentine is an unexpected seduction that if you forgot a gift on Valentine's Day, you could send this to your lover.
5 of 5 refills!

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Embracing Artistic Challenges, by Adele Dubois

When the opportunity to submit a steamy short story to the GIRLS WHO BITE anthology came around, I wondered if I could handle the demands of a vampire tale. Vampires can be dangerous, scary creatures, and I didn’t know if I could reach that dark place in my imagination. Add lesbian heroines to the story mix and my footing turned less sure. Though I’d included bi-sexual characters in my books for years, I knew less about the lesbian lifestyle than I did vampire lore.

Yet the challenge intrigued me. Like an author enthralled by a vampire queen, I answered the call. Why? I wanted to be part of something groundbreaking with other authors I admired. Girl on girl love is the last frontier of the mainstream erotic romance sub-genre. Man love stories, often written and edited by straight women, have long been a staple of the erotic romance market. Conversely, their counterparts have been noticeably absent. I wondered if our GIRLS WHO BITE storytelling could cross boundaries of sexual preference the way our collaborative mix of authors had.

I’m pleased that I was able to stay true to my voice with “The Crystal Altar.” The story has been singled out as one of the best in the anthology, which has received consistent five star reviews and accolades like “literary erotica”. GIRLS WHO BITE won the prestigious Cata Romance Reviewer’s Choice Book of The Year Award. I couldn’t be more thrilled for editor Delilah Devlin and our group of authors.

Writing paranormal girl on girl love stories has been so much fun that I contributed my short story “She’s Furry Yiffy” to the GIRLS WHO BITE sequel, SHE-SHIFTERS, coming this summer from Cleis Press and editor Delilah Devlin in both print and electronic formats.

Here’s a taste of my lesbian vampire erotica story “The Crystal Altar” sold separately for only .99 on Amazon, Nook, Smashwords, and All Romance eBooks.

An ancient crystalline cavern becomes the setting for a most unusual birthday party…

“Only your cousin would celebrate her birthday in a creepy place like this cave.” Rosa scrunched up her nose.

Morgan tried not to smile, since Rosa was being serious. If she only knew how cute she looked when she made that face, she might never do it again.

Rosa hated the dark and anything remotely otherworldly. She refused to watch fantasy or horror movies and detested Halloween. Rosa liked musicals, TV cooking shows, and Christmas. She’d come to Angela’s birthday party strictly under protest. Morgan had mollified her with a picnic she had prepared. Rosa worked as the chef at the restaurant Morgan managed and rarely got a break from food preparation.

It seemed the novelty had worn off.

“The caves are historic.” Morgan tried reasoning. “Natural wonders. People travel from all over the world to visit and they’re right in our backyard. We’ll see formations like calcite crystal walls, flowstones, and dripstones millennia old.”

Rosa stopped folding the blanket and set her mouth in a grim line. Her nostrils flared. “I’d rather wait in the car. You go. She’s your cousin. And a freak, if you ask me.”

Morgan couldn’t argue there. Her cousin Angela had turned a whole new kind of weird since her trip to Europe. She’d left eastern Pennsylvania a skinny geek in glasses that nobody wanted to hang with. She’d returned a curvy Goth with facial piercings, night vision, and an entourage of beautiful women who’d moved into the Lancaster home she shared with her father.

Angela had explained that laser eye surgery in Eastern Europe was light years ahead of procedures in the United States. Her new look was the work of some chick she’d met on the road named Lillith. The transformation, she claimed, had made her popular. Angela seemed perfectly happy.

Which was more than Morgan could say at the moment.

“I know she’s odd, but she’s family and it’s her birthday. What else could I do?” Morgan took the blanket from Rosa’s hands and laid it on the grass beneath the cover of an old weeping willow. Rosa followed inside the natural umbrella of leaves and slender branches.

“Let’s not argue, okay?” Morgan pleaded. “We have at least an hour before the others arrive. We haven’t been alone all day.” She hoped her voice sounded husky and sexy and not as desperate as she felt.

Secretly, she worried they were headed for bed death. Rosa had become more distant and less interested in sex than she had during their first six months together. Morgan had plenty of platonic friendships and the last thing she wanted was for Rosa to drift into that category. She loved her and wanted her as much now as she had in the beginning.

Morgan lay down on her back and reached up from the blanket for Rosa. “Come here.”


                                                 Coming Soon! “She’s Furry Yiffy” to SHE-SHIFTERS.

Buy: “The Crystal Altar” on Amazon Kindle, Nook, Smashwords and All Romance eBooks for .99!
Buy: GIRLS WHO BITE on Amazon!

Preorder SHE-SHIFTERS on Amazon!

Visit Adele Dubois at her website and read more about her erotic romance novels.

SLAVE's review
While jogging in the mountains, the main character, Anika, is barely scratched by a Puma. When she is asleep, Anika sees herself as a Puma and wakes with bloody clothing. The attack left her with ‘un-natural’ desires making it, in her opinion, doubly hard for her to find a mate to accept her for who and what she is. When Anika catches the scent of the one she thinks is her perfect lover, her amazing senses took over and the pursuit was on.
She’s Furry Yiffy is an installment in the shifter anthology, SHE-SHIFTERS. The reader is led to believe that Anika is a Puma shifter, but we don’t actual see any shifting. Her lover claims to be a shifter as well, but she doesn’t shift either. In Anika’s dreams she does see herself as a sleek golden Puma. I asked to read this book because I was interested in seeing how lesbian shifters made love, especially since Anika said, “I must warn you, I get aggressive during love making.” but since this book didn’t have any shifting and the love making was far from aggressive in my opinion, I still don’t know.

Friday, May 18, 2012

Well if guys like romance, then I'm hoping they love Zombies too!

Zapocalypse-The Midnight Special was accepted as part of Noble Romance's hit series…
Lesbians vs Zombies: the Musical Revue

When the Zapocalypse arrives and zombies are running around trying to eat all our brains, even the most uptight people aren't going to give a rat's petunia who comes to the rescue. Who knew that two lesbians stranded in some hick-ass town deep in the swamps of southern Georgia would become local legends, heroes in their own right? Gina and Ginger sure as hell didn't.

But that's exactly what they became on the night of The Midnight Special. Battling redneck hypocrites on a nightly basis at the diner was bad, but battling those same inbreds turned zombie was a whole different breed of stupid. Yet with their iPods jacked up and blasting Creedence Clearwater Revival, that's just what they're doing: kicking some serious zombie ass!

With half the town looking out their backdoors and the other half dreading that bad moon a'rising, Gina realizes she and Ginger have been thrust into a fight for the town as well as their lives.

Buy Links:   Noble RomanceARe
For samples, fun free stories and follow-ups be sure and check out the whole gang at the L vs Z site here:

If you have any questions of Gina and Ginger, be sure and ask away. I've asked them to pop in and out checking.

Two lucky commenters will win a copy (e-book only) of Zapocalypse-The Midnight Special!

SLAVE's Review
Two girls making their way in a small town, killing a few zombies along the way. That’s what the book was about. The characters, Gina and Ginger, are fun and believable. I liked D. Dye’s creation of her zombies and how she introduced them in the book. I enjoyed this book. It had sensuality and a hint of horror. I would have given this story 4 pens, but there were times when the flow felt choppy and it pulled me out of the book, thus I give Zapocalypse-The Midnight Special 3 ½ pens.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Meet Berengaria Brown's Regency ladies

I’ve always been fascinated by the way in which women in the past, when they had no legal rights at all, but were merely the property of, first, their father, then later, their husband, managed to rearrange the world to find their own happiness.
I greatly respect women like Queen Elizabeth I of England, who ruled a powerful and influential nation, such that the known world was in awe of her, in an era when women had no rights at all. She did it with wit, intelligence, and a cunning ability to keep everyone at her beck and call.
I’m also a huge Georgette Heyer fan, and love the Regency era, so it was only to be expected that sooner or later I’d write a lesbian romance, set in the Regency time period. And of course the women work out how to be happy. It just takes time and effort.

“Sappho’s Sisters”
Lady Eustacia Lumley is the only child of the Earl of Wentworth. It’s her duty to marry well and ensure the succession.
Margaret Durrell is the fourth daughter of a gently born, but near penniless vicar. She has no option but to marry a man who can provide for her and possibly for some of her sisters as well.
Best friends since their days at Miss Marcomb's Academy for Young Ladies, both women are very interested in Sappho's poetry and ideas. One evening while visiting the Wentworth estate, Margaret has a headache and Eustacia offers to massage her scalp. This act of kindness leads them into an encounter they both find very enjoyable.
The two young women fall deeply in love, but is there any hope for them? Or will they both have to conform to the rigid rules of Regency society?

After a week in Town, Eustacia was keen to return to Green Meadows, her home outside London. It was ideally situated on good farming land, a full day’s journey from the bustle of the city—close enough to make a trip to Town for shopping or parties easy, but not so close that people were endlessly arriving unannounced.
She was particularly pleased to have Margaret staying with them for at least three months. Margaret’s long-suffering Papa despaired of marrying his four motherless daughters appropriately. Both Margaret’s Mama and her Papa came from the nobility, but the Reverend Mr. Durrell had inadequate funds to launch them onto the marriage mart. He loved them and wanted them to be happy, not just married to the highest bidder.
“Ah well, he won’t need to worry about Margaret for a while,” she mused.
Although Margaret was eighteen to Eustacia’s twenty-four, they both had lively minds and had formed an instant bond in the brief year they’d both been at Miss Marcomb’s Academy for Young Ladies—Margaret’s first year there and Eustacia’s last. They both loved learning and had read avidly. Since then, they’d kept in touch with long letters and had recently been reading and discussing Sappho’s poetry. Eustacia was looking forward to talking more about it with her friend.
Sappho’s sharp imagery, her immediacy, her control, and the rhythm and almost melody of her words were immensely appealing. Not to mention some of her underlying ideas—ideas which were increasingly compelling to Eustacia.
Eustacia had never been sexually attracted to men. While all the other young ladies at school had been sighing over the dancing master and the riding master, Eustacia had only desired to learn the subjects they taught. Their male beauty stirred her heart not one iota. When she had first made her curtsy to the Ton, many handsome and eligible young men had sought her hand for that lascivious dance, the waltz. Not one of them had made her heart beat faster. Fortunately, her father, the earl, had made no attempt to push her to accept any of the three very flattering offers he had received for her hand. Even more fortunately, Gervase’s younger brother, Anthony, had three fine, strong sons to inherit the title, so there was no pressure on Gervase to marry again and produce an heir, or to marry off his daughter to ensure a grandson to inherit.
But Margaret. Ahh, Margaret did make her palms sweat and her heart beat faster. Margaret’s bright, inquiring mind and ability to converse intelligently on any topic. Margaret’s soft brown eyes and shiny brown hair. Her white skin and pale cheeks that flushed enchantingly when Eustacia smiled at her.
Eustacia had read widely about Sapphic love and was eager to experience it—but only with Margaret and only if Margaret was willing. Meanwhile, her reading had taught her much, and with the help of a handheld looking glass, she had learned a lot about the art of self-pleasure. As for the anatomist Mateo Renaldo Colombo, who claimed to have discovered the amor Veneris, vel dulcedo—“the sweetness of Venus”—Eustacia was willing to bet her late mother’s emeralds that Sappho and her followers had known about their nubbins six hundred years before the birth of Christ!

Get “Sappho’s Sisters” here:  

Berengaria Brown
Check out my blog and web page for other lesbian romances and also for other Regency romances.
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Sunday, May 13, 2012

Does dead really mean dead?

Louise is having a bad day: studying for exams, play rehearsals under a director she can't stand, and ill-fitting shoes. Surely, there's a limit to what a girl has to put up with! But her day improves when she meets the pretty, new stagehand, Angie. An instant attraction leads to a sexy sojourn in Louise's dressing room. The rest of her day seems almost tolerable, until the director barges in on their interlude and collapses—before reviving to attack Louise. Angie fights him off, and the girls flee to the safety of the quad. Soon they learn their fallen assailant is only the first wave of a terrifying outbreak.

Their best hope to stay alive is to stay together. As they explore each other's bodies and learn the deepest secrets of their hearts, Louise and Angie discover that each has found something in the other's arms they never knew they wanted. But they have to survive first. There oughta be a law: dead means dead . . . .

Noble Romance  Amazon

Creating romance that guys will want to read just as much as women is a daunting task at best. Men and women are biologically, fundamentally different. Men are more visual and left-brain oriented. Women tend to be more emotional. A lot of this is a simple matter of biochemistry. The chemical reactions in the male brain give different results than the same reactions in the female brain. This is glaringly apparent in nearly every facet of any circumstance or situation in which the two genders meet.

Now of course there are exceptions to every rule. We all know at least one guy who’s not as macho as cultural archetypes suggest he should be. Conversely, there are women who are as calculating, controlled, and, well, horny, as any man. None of this is intended or should be taken as a slight on either sex or an attempt to paint in broad strokes what men and women are to themselves or one another, but as “baseline” readings from which we can extrapolate.

When it comes to romance written by men, I’ve stumbled right into a certain amount of (not wholly unjustified) sexism. Many men can’t seem to get closer to romance than mere erotica, the idea of taking the sexual act and placing it in the context of a larger plot. For this reason, many women view romance written by men with a healthy dose of skepticism. At the same time, how often have you seen a man overtly reading a romance written by a woman? I’m going to go out on a limb and guess the answer is “Not often.” And when you did, what was your first thought? Come on, you know perfectly good and well what you thought.

Walking that line between romance geared almost exclusively toward women and a story that men can read without embarrassment is a very delicate matter, and it has been that line I’ve tried to walk ever since I first decided to try my hand at erotic romance. I enjoy the idea that the feelings are genuine enough to please the women; there’s enough action and even occasional gore to keep the men entertained; and the plot and the sexual elements of the story are both real enough for both genders to respond to. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed by what I write; far from it. I think that in this day and age, the idea that people refuse to acknowledge the idea that men might have tender feelings or that women might be just as randy as their male counterparts is a great deal of what’s wrong with our society.

Now that I’ve given you the idea I’m walking around with a chip the size of Texas on my shoulder, let me disabuse you of that notion. I don’t think people need permission to fantasize or to entertain sexual desire. I think people need to see other people who genuinely believe it’s okay. For this reason, I’ve considered all possible pairings of two people in my work to date. It would be nothing short of rank hypocrisy for me to do otherwise.

When Ruby Green first asked me what I thought about the concept of Lesbians Vs. Zombies: The Musical Revue, it gave me pause. How do you properly incorporate music into a book and make it believable? After all, you can’t see or hear the music and the characters’ reactions, as you could in a movie. How do you arrange things so that the titular lovers wind up face to face with something out of a nightmare? And, perhaps most daunting of all, how do you ensure that genuine romance and real feeling have a chance to blossom and grow in the middle of an apocalypse?

My first attempt was less than convincing. I had a woman in a car right out of Mad Max wielding a shotgun and blaring Metallica as she drove up to a scourge of zombies (I’m not sure if that’s the right word for a group of that particular flavor of undead, so forgive me if it’s wrong) just in time to save my main characters’ lovely asses. (Hey, you weren’t in my head. Trust me, the view I had was delectable!)

I grimaced, frowned, walked away, smoked a cigarette, jumped up and down a few times, went back, and repeated the cycle all over again. It didn’t take long for me to say, “No, this blows” and delete it permanently. This put me back to square one. Maybe a day later one of the elements fell into place by accident, when my ex-wife bouncing around singing “The Time Warp” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show to get my goat. I fought with all my might to keep my disgust off my face, as I don’t much care for the movie and loathe that song. Then inspiration struck: Why not use that disdain to fuel the first part of the story?

Then there were the zombies, who only seem to come in two flavors: Caribbean Voudoun and biological disaster. I freely admit I don’t know enough about Voudoun to go down that road, and I didn’t see myself having time to learn enough for that to be practical. So I went with the biological disaster. Hey, I already had a human Petri dish, so why not?

And so Louise, my main character, became an actress instead of a stalwart fighter against the undead, at least to begin with. Angie was already pretty well fleshed out, and it was just a matter of getting the two of them together. The overweight director, David, with his insatiable passion for ladies of the evening, became the perfect foil to force the two women together. Now I had a beginning I felt good about using.

Then the delicate part began. Any writer can tell you that if you’re not feeling it, your readers will know. So I had to infuse every moment of the story with some form of emotion, even if it was nothing more than confusion. At the same time, spend too much time on the emotions and you risk losing the male readers. I think of myself as a sensitive guy, but even I can get too much of a good thing. So I had to dial up the sexual tension and the birthing horror as my characters realize just how deep in the shit they really are. And lo, “Dead Means Dead” was born.

The overarching goal was not and never has been to write “romance” a la Barbara Sheridan. Label it what you will, put it on whatever shelf you like, but the ultimate idea has always been simply to tell a good story that will appeal to both men and women equally. Personally, I think I did a pretty solid job. But I’ll let the readers judge.

Until next time,

J.S. Wayne

SLAVE's review

I am an avid reader of horror and zombie type books, thus I looked forward to reading this book to see how the author would incorporate lesbian sex into it. It was my first Lesbian vs Zombie read and I thoroughly enjoyed it. JS Wayne's zombies were believable and the characters realistic. The sex was hot and the story left you wanting more, but satisfied with what you got.

This book gets 5 of 5 pens from me. Great job, JS!

Friday, May 11, 2012

Helgaleena has a Fem side

Romance friends,

You may notice that Helgaleena Healingline looks a lot like a giant hermaphroditic gastropod from a galaxy far, far away.
I chose the ‘bi’ image to reflect my love for erotic romance between all genders, and even between species, muwahaha! My writing started in Star Wars fan-fiction, and though I will never be able to publish and sell those tales of love, they are all online in various places. I would recommend you find them at the Archive at the End of the Universe, and my fanfiction blog ‘helgaleena-slash’ on livejournal.
You can find the links at my editing blog,

‘helgaleena says’
But I am here to speak of my official erotic romance work at Dark Roast Press!
I have contributed FF tales to anthologies. One is ‘Paint the Town’ in

Forbidden Views.

Here is a taste from the restaurant scene, where our heroine melts right in front of the seducer’s dad:
She has ordered a dessert, a fantastic construction of dark layers and white froth and swirls of syrup. She insists we taste. Her father takes his forkful by the handle and gravely inserts it beneath his mustache. Mine comes directly at me, homing in on my mouth. I catch her melted caramel eyes. She is smiling wickedly and I am disarmed. The tapering fingers bring the sweet to my parted lips.
As I close my mouth around the explosion of flavors and textures and temperatures—yes, the gateau was warm and the cream was cold-- I see her pointed tongue, impossibly pinker than her lips, lick away the stain of chocolate from her upper lip. Oh. The flavors in my mouth are eclipsed by seeing her enjoyment. I am making an inarticulate noise. My bottom is wriggling against the chair. Tears are filling my eyes and so I shut them as the chill of the fork slides away, warmed by my pursed lips.
“Good, huh?”
Such a non sequitur. What is good is being with her, tipsy and drooling from both ends, with lightning shooting through my belly as this experience engulfs my teeth from the inside and her attention heats me from without. It’s as if I am swallowing her atmosphere, her rivers and oceans. But when I open my eyes, I am still in a predictable chain restaurant, sitting with the beauty and her keeper, and both are looking at me as if I am the floor show.
I can feel the blush heat up my face, how it rises from my chest to my forehead in a tide of blood, making my hairline prickle. Her dad’s mustache barely moves, but his eyes are hot on me. She giggles and soothes. Her hand strokes my fiery cheek. I follow the hand with my eyes as it moves back to her orbit.
I’m lost. I’m speechless. I’m on fire. Why the wait staff don’t come running up with an extinguisher I don’t know. Perhaps they are intimidated by her dad? He seems to think it’s nothing unusual for his daughter to have such an effect.
There is a rumbling coming from his direction. Part of my brain registers it as speech, something about getting me home and good thing I’m not driving. She is nodding and smiling and I can feel her imagination tucking me into slumber-land in the near future. That would be the end. My mind rallies because I cannot let it be over so soon. I summon my ability to speak with my final reserves of will. “Coffee?” I offer. “I have a French press.”

Our second Christmas anthology also has one of my FF tales –it is called ‘Solstice of the Whirled’ and it is out of this world completely, a story of two shaman women from opposite ends of the planet, in the once and future, becoming as one.

Not all of her people can sustain such a state of stillness, even in the season of sleep. But it is her sacred duty to make certain there are creatures of flesh throughout the long season to feed them all. Without them the hunters can do nothing but despair, and lash out at the weak and hungry at home.
Her dreams take her along the trails of the spirits of other creatures even more deeply asleep than she is-- serpents in tumbled masses, fish and frogs cold as ice, bruins and rodents and beetles snug in leaf piles. This is the road to where the sun has hidden itself, far away on the other side of the whirled, never showing itself at all on this longest night.
The mill of the world grinds out powdered ice far above the surface of her land under the far off stars. In my land the obdurate sun has goaded up giant winds to blow us all onto our faces on the longest day. Armies of us abandon ourselves there to fly in spirit, evaporated into mist that freezes as it rises ever higher into clouds. Then the clouds are blown down at our land again, dropping precipitous where the shifting wind bends the trees sideways.
Some, like me, turn and blow down on other lands, such as the land where my twin seeker follows the hibernating herds down, down into the navel of the whirl. I am so thirsty. Like wraiths my fellow ice particles are drawn to the spirit dreamers. In a flash my light goes to her ember and both of us quicken.
We meet. The tiny spaces between our substances comb themselves together and set up a vibration, shivering us, compiling us. …
Truth to tell, this is one of my most personally meaningful stories, and I am proud to share with you the sacred role of love in the circle of living, with this tale of how we are more than ourselves in every way when we touch at every level.
I hope you have enjoyed a look at my fem side. I like it all. And I like big servings, muwahaha.

helgaleena says:

Dark Roasted Xmas 2   Forbidden Views: 


Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Women+military+love= Faithful Service, Silent Hearts

Faithful Service, Silent Hearts is the story of Devon James, a bright young military officer, dedicated to serving her country. She soon learns that finding love under any circumstances is difficult, but when your love is forbidden by military regulations and a relentless zealot pursues you, it can seem impossible. Following an investigation that destroyed her first lover's career and their relationship, Devon hopes her new assignment will allow her a fresh start.

She is reunited with an old college friend, and together, they form an impressive intelligence team and red-hot couple. When their assignments take them to the war-torn Middle East in the early days of terrorists targeting Americans, then things really get interesting. She returns home a decorated veteran with numerous physical and emotional scars. Devon soon discovers that the battle for her own integrity and faithful service has only begun.

Faithful Service, Silent Hearts is a book that I hope will touch readers on many different levels. It’s not meant to be the standard Lesfic romance, but don’t worry, Devon’s relationships feature prominently in driving the plot. Devon is a soldier, a lover, a friend, and above all human. We follow her from the grueling days of basic training to the terrorist havens of Lebanon. She finds love, heartbreak, makes mistakes, learns lessons, and ultimately grows to find her own personal path to integrity.

Faithful Service is a sweeping human drama about the personal sacrifices of an everyday soldier who just wants to serve her country in an honorable way. The story is set against the backdrop of one of the most significant and heartbreaking events in the military’s recent history. I tried to show what is painfully obvious to all lesbian and gay veterans and active duty personnel: Doing our duty is unaffected by our sexual orientation. We are, like all of our fellow service members, simply soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, and coasties. The individual we love is irrelevant to that duty.

Today, following the repeal of DADT, it’s important to remember that LGBT members of our armed forces continue to serve with distinction, but do not receive equal benefits. There is still work to be done. It is my hope that Faithful Service, Silent Hearts will help to serve as a reminder to complete the task of truly honoring LGBT heroes who have served and continue to serve our country. Devon’s story is above all a message of hope and triumph that will carry you along on a wild ride. I hope that you will take the journey with her.

You can reach LM at:
website:   email:   Facebook

Faithful Service, Silent Hearts available in paperback or ebook at:

Bella Books:  and  Amazon:

Lynette Mae grew up in Pennsylvania, the third of six children. She enlisted in the army at nineteen, and after an honorable discharge, found herself in Florida pursuing her dream of a law enforcement career. Although completely challenging and satisfying, being a cop only fueled Lynette’s true passion: Writing. Her life’s rich experiences provide endless ideas for stories and characters that are born out of the truly fascinating places she’s gone and people she’s met along the way. When she’s not working or writing, you can find Lynette running, weight training, or any number of physical pursuits. For quieter time, she’ll be curled up with a book, or just enjoying the day with her wife and their dogs.

Monday, May 7, 2012

A highway woman and a dashing queer hero, who cross dresses? Bring it on!

How exciting to be blogging on “Guys Like Romance, Too”, when I am here to shamelessly promote a F/F book, with very few guys in the story at all. Thank you for allowing this trespass! It’s great to be here as part of your month dwelling on the “L” of GLBT.
My newest novel, The Locket and the Flintlock, will be released by Bold Strokes Books in May, and will be available as both a print book and ebook from Bold Strokes and also in all good bookstores and online. 

It’s a historical romance, and here’s the blurb:

Will the masked outlaw who stole Lucia’s locket also claim her heart?

When Miss Lucia Foxe is robbed by a band of shadowy highwaymen, she does not realize this frightening event will change her life forever. Her brave quest to retrieve her stolen locket brings her into close contact with the thieves and their dashing and fearless masked leader, Len Hawkins. But there is more to Len than meets the eye. Beneath the robber’s mask lies a woman who, in her heart, is not really so very different from Lucia.

As their unlikely love grows against the backdrop of the poverty and violent protest of Regency England, Lucia learns how much more there is to the world than her upbringing has taught her. Len flirts with death every day, and eventually, an attempt at exacting revenge on her cruel father threatens to snatch her from Lucia’s arms. Will Len survive her encounter with death and avoid the retribution of the agents of justice? And can respectable gentlewoman Lucia love Len enough to sacrifice everything she knows?

So why is The Locket and the Flintlock a purely historical romance? Partly because I’m a history geek, obsessed with the Regency period. I had to use all my latent knowledge somewhere. But more than that, I was increasingly aware that a queer romance was enough to sustain a historical novel. When I wrote my first novel, I wasn’t sure. Lesbians are virtually invisible before the twentieth century, so wouldn’t writing a historical story solely about them seem a little inauthentic? Not just about them, but a story in which they are not seen as tragically flawed figures or the eccentric outsiders. How do you celebrate a queer love story in a setting in which queer love stories were not celebrated and were actually frowned upon, yet still create a convincing novel? 

Turns out, it’s easier than I thought. GLBT people have always existed. Admittedly, they couldn’t be open about their sexuality, but they were always there. And they were always lusting after each other, feeling the first flush of passion, the joy and excitement of growing love. They were having hot sex and sharing tender intimacy. We just don’t have their stories because they were not recorded for us. But fiction can redress that to some extent. By writing historically, I like to imagine that I am breathing colour and life into romantic stories that could have happened. I am bringing the GLBT people of the past into the spotlight and suggesting what might have happened. I aim to be historically authentic, but I explore the possibilities.

My story features a highway woman. A dashing queer hero, who cross dresses, and sweeps the heroine off her feet. It seems a little like a contrivance to create the masculine character we might expect of a historical romance. But there were female highway robbers. History records at least two in England—Joan Bracey and Moll Cutpurse—who dressed in male attire and robbed the roads at night. History would not record a lesbian love story involving such women. But who’s to say there couldn’t have been one?

I hate to admit it, but I’m not a big reader of genre romance. I never aimed to be a romance writer. However, when it comes to adding colour to the past and shining a light on GLBT lives from the mists of time, I find romance to be one of the most useful and vibrant of genres.

“Wear the cloak,” Len said, moving towards Lucia slightly.
“I should have expected nothing more.” Len’s words were almost muttered to herself. Lucia baulked at the disappointment Len made no attempt to hide.
 “What do you mean by that?” Her words were sharp with humiliation and hostility, her own disappointment. She had thought Len had developed a sort of respect for her, that there was something in common between them. Now it lay in tatters and Lucia’s skin prickled with anger.
“I mean what I say. I clearly expected too much of you. You have been sheltered, cosseted your whole life, in a way I never was. I thought there was something the same about us, but I was wrong. You are simply acting out a drama. I will not be a player in your performance any longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are not what I thought you to be.” At her statement, Lucia felt a growing hollowness in the pit of her stomach. Len was not done yet. “And I think you should return to your home tomorrow, where you will not be sullied by keeping company with immoral creatures such as we are.”
“I will not.” Though her head told her Len was right, Lucia could not persuade her stubborn heart which seemed to ache with every hard beat. “You know nothing of what I am.”
Len did not reply quickly. Instead, she moved towards Lucia, threatening. She seemed a much larger presence in the shadowy room than Lucia. As she moved, shortening the distance between them, she seemed also to compress the air between their two bodies, air thick with tension and anger, and force it through Lucia’s very skin and into her body until her blood seemed to boil. She began to tremble and her face burned. She heard her pulse throbbing and her breathing grow uneven. Yet Lucia did not recognize what she felt as either fear or anger. This was something else. A new emotion she had never known before. Len leaned forward until her face was close to Lucia’s. “You will do as I say,” she said quietly.
“I will not,” Lucia said, in a tremulous whisper. “I am not one of your men.”
“You wish to keep immoral company after all?” Len’s voice was a whisper too, not hostile, yet not friendly. Her eyes reflected the light of the lantern, but it was difficult to make out the exact expression of her features.
Lucia swallowed heavily. “I wish to remain with you.” The confession made her almost dizzy.
“With thieves and frame-breakers?”
“With you.”
Len’s tone softened as she went on. “Yet you choose ignorance of what I do in the dark hours of the night?”
“I am not ignorant of it.”
“You do not approve of it.” Len was so close, Lucia felt her warm breath on her own face.
“It frightens me.”
“Life can be a frightening thing. But do you feel the thrill it brings?”
“Yes,” Lucia murmured, hot tears of something like shame pricking her eyes. The tension between them mounted further. Lucia knew something was going to happen but did not know what. Then for an instant, Len’s lips met Lucia’s.

 This is my third novel, but my first that is purely historical. My first, Truths, was a historical story entwined with the contemporary story, both demonstrating the ways in which women’s love for each other can be healing, renewing and exciting. 

Two women, Elizabeth and Jen, separated by two hundred years, but inescapably connected. Will the echoes of the past be enough to save Jen as she begins to discover her truth?
In 1808 Elizabeth Cooper, found guilty as a thief, is sentenced to hang and thrown into prison, the convicted women with whom she shares her gloomy cell the only solace she will have until the day of her execution. In gentle Gilly Stevens she finds the strength and comfort of a growing intimacy. As the horrors of the prison threaten to overwhelm her, Elizabeth and Gilly must soon fight to ensure Elizabeth’s innocence, her truth, can survive into the future.
In 2008 Jen is a costumed tour guide, the prison where Elizabeth Cooper was imprisoned now an atmospheric museum. Jen’s work relating its horrors distracts her from the confusion of her personal life. Then she encounters Aly, an intriguing, confident photographer, who seems to change everything. Jen is determined not to deny her truth any longer and to finally reach for happiness, but, as the shadows within the high prison walls lengthen and seem to warn her of the threat, she is in more danger than she realizes.

My second, Ghosts of Winter, told a contemporary lesbian love story, with short, colourful vignettes allowing glimpses into the past, and of the loves of past GLBT couples including two repressed Victorian lesbians, a conflicted pair of gay men in the eighteenth century, and a bisexual flapper in the 1920s. I loved weaving together the historical and the modern, exploring the continuity of queer love over the centuries.
Can Ros Wynne, who has lost everything she thought defined her, find her true life—and her true love—surrounded by the lingering history of the once-grand Winter Manor?
When Ros unexpectedly inherits Winter Manor on the condition that she oversee the restoration of the remote and dilapidated house, it seems the perfect place for her to retreat from her recently failed relationship, the death of her mother, and the loss of her job. But Winter Manor is not entirely at rest. The echoes of its past reach forward into the present, and Ros’s life is perceptibly shaped by the lives—and loves—of the people who inhabited those rooms and corridors in the centuries before her.
Then Anna arrives. The architect—with her designer clothes, hot car, and air of supreme professionalism—is at first an unwelcome, if necessary, intrusion. But as Ros learns Anna’s truths, she finds solace from her past losses in their developing intimacy. And when their love is threatened, Ros must decide whether her own ghosts will forever define her, or if she can embrace her life for what it is—past, present, and future.

The Locket and the Flintlock, Truths, and Ghosts of Winter all available now at the Bold Strokes Books Store!