You know, I never considered myself a horror writer. But my editors at Forbidden Fiction think otherwise, and so included two of my stories, “Oasis Beckoning” and “The Ravening Season” in this anthology, Strange Appetites. 😉

So just in time for Halloween, you can read 11 dark, bizarre tales. Be warned: this is erotic horror, not paranormal erotic romance. In fact, I don’t think romance very much comes into it here. If you are after stories that embrace the darkness rather than the happily ever after, this anthology may well be for you.

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Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

Today’s release catch-up is Gods Among Men, an m/m novella published by Forbidden Fiction.

The idea is essentially a reworking of the myth of Perun and Veles, Slavic gods who are kind of related to Thor and Loki respectively. Despite how the cover may look, I was not influenced by the Thor films, nor by Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston (the story came to fruition in 2011), but hey, it works quite well in my favour I suppose.

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Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

I have been somewhat lax on this site of late, failing to announce new books that have come out, not posting in general. So, for the coming Wednesday in October I’ll be announcing the books and stories that have come out over the past few (more than few in some cases…) months.

So to start, The Ravening Season.

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Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

The Scent of Summer is my upcoming erotic novella. It incorporates two typical fantasies – sleeping with the neighbour, and the age-old older man/younger woman scenario. Far from being a pure smutty story or a romance, The Scent of Summer instead seeks to explore how the heat of attraction can scorch as much as compel.

Blurb

Home for summer, and left alone in her family home, Suvi is about to settle into holiday reading when she sees, across her garden and onto her neighbours’ verandah, a man she doesn’t recognise. She wants him at once, but being 19, and him close to her father’s age, she doubts he’ll think the same.

Johann, visiting his friends the Parkers from Vienna, loves the Australian summer. Especially with an enticing young woman lounging about in the garden next door. But under Mick Parker’s eye, and knowing the girl is unlikely to respond to his advances, he will not act on his desires.

When chance conspires, and Suvi and Johann are left alone, the cool of Australian beaches, the heat of summer, and hot lust cannot be denied. Nor can the realisation that what Suvi wants and Johann wants are vastly different, and that the steamiest sex and desire can also burn people to the core.

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Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

More for Kink Bingo today (Kink Bingo), this time for the square ‘gag/silence’. Once more from the Water and Dust universe, like last week, but this time, much earlier in Brendan and Marc’s relationship, from around when they first met. And dramatic it was too! This one is about 1500 words.

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They ran up the stairs, and tumbled into the bedroom they found there. One double bed, a chair, and an upright cupboard, with a bathroom off to the side. A large window faced onto the main road. It had no curtains, and let all the brilliant light through, washing the room yellow.

Brendan pointed to the cupboard. “There!”

The cupboard was really too small for both of them; they’d both have to squash themselves in, and uncomfortably at that. But Brendan whispered that that would convince Walker that they couldn’t possibly be hiding in it. So Brendan clambered in first, tucked his knees to his chest, and Marc followed, swinging the doors shut while his left leg braced one side and his right knee almost dug into Brendan’s side. As it was, he was hyper-aware of being that near to Brendan, their proximity closer than they’d even had in the truck. The cabin had been restricted, but this allow no movement. To do so would alert Walker to their presence, and that would be the end of it.

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Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

I swear I must be stupid, or a glutton for punishment. I have signed up for Kink Bingo.

Kink Bingo is very much a fandom based venture. But I figured that since they allow original work too… well, it might be nice to have some extra prompts for Wicked Wednesday and such. It’s a vast and incredible undertaking for the mods, and provides many fans with a great deal of joy. I haven’t participated for a year, and it is so very nice to be able to take part in again. 😉

Not that I need more ideas or anything, she says drolly…

My card, and an HTML representation which will serve as the Master Post, is below the cut.

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Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

I’m pleased to announce I have two new releases available!

First, a short story, Oasis Beckoning. Fantasy erotica, with a most unusual pairing – man, and a pool of water…

Nearly dead from thirst and the sun, a man fled through the desert. Just when he believed he could no longer go on, he stumbled upon a deep pool in a jungle at the edge of the wasteland. The water soothed his parched throat and gave comfort to his burnt skin. Then, that which lived in the pool gave him a stranger and altogether more intimate kind of comfort.

Oasis Beckoning is available from Forbidden Fiction – you can go there for an excerpt and assorted buy links.

Next, my short story ‘Meadow’ can be read in the new erotica anthology Smut Alfresco, edited by Lucy Felthouse and Victoria Blisse, a collection of outdoor-themed erotica. ‘Meadow’ is set on Grantchester Meadows in Cambridge, where I live, but you can find a whole host of other, intriguing settings and stories in the anthology.

An excerpt of ‘Meadow’ can be read here on this site.

Smut Alfresco can be bought at the following places:

• Amazon.co.uk
• Amazon.com
• All Romance eBooks

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

Like a clap of thunder, the music stops. The DJ shouts “Fuck!” and the dance floor is restless rather than pumping, edgy and discordant rather than in harmony. There are calls of ‘what just happen!’ and the DJ still cursing about a technical glitch, and everyone waits. The lights are garish without the accompanying beats.

Jeroen’s hand squeezes her shoulder, Orhan fingers dig into her back, and a chill falls over her body.

There are times like this when she freezes, and she feels herself watching the scenario play out before her, rather than participating. Where she doesn’t see herself as in control, as teasing and stroking the men either side of her, but as the meat in the sandwich, as someone – or even something – who could be tossed between two uncaring men like a toy, whose arms and legs could be pulled off on a whim, and the sight of her limbless would be amusing rather than cause for sympathy.

She stills herself, eyes down, not meeting either Orhan or Jeroen’s. She doesn’t need their reassure, not right not. She needs for them to relax their hold on her, needs to break out from the cage of their arms. Her breathing becomes more rapid, her chest heaving. She rolls her shoulder under Jeroen’s hand, hoping, hoping she’ll get away without needing to fight… and his hand flexes, not quite away, but he asks, in a normal voice, now capable of being heard in room, “You ok?”

She looks up, meeting Orhan’s eyes first. He stares down, frowning, concerned. The pressure of his fingers ease, and instead he rubs her back. Jeroen likewise rubs her shoulder, rough enough to be friendly. She turns to both of them, smiling, feeling the air in the space between them, freer once more.

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Next: 49. Nibble

Image found on flickr, by Brandon Fick, used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

Orhan lets go of her hands, moves them to her waist. His fingers rest at the place were her stomach ends and her hips begin; a place, she’s always thought, that marks where touching above is gentlemanly, and below is sexy. It’s the perfect place, she thinks, for him to linger for a while, between chivalrous and seductive.

The music changes, a slow beat, its rhythm lulling, almost soft. The kind that makes her step gently from one foot to the other, a slight shift in weight rather than taking her foot the ground. Jeroen in front of her falls in pace with her, while Orhan moves his knees; she feels his thighs bump softly against the back of her own.

The music starts to seep under her skin. Her pulse falls in with the beat, or so it seems, for it throbs right through her, from the base of her neck to her clit. The lights too flash in time, and the three of them, together, sway like they are connected by more than clutching hands and sensual desire. For a moment, she closes her eyes, and she enjoys the warmth of the two men, and the surrounding sound.
When she opens them, Jeroen tries to move closer, but she shakes her head, lolling it in time to the music.

“Take it slow, take it slow,” she says, exaggerating her lips so he can read them, so she doesn’t have to shout.

Jereon rolls his eyes, but with humour, and keeps that tiny distance that would take only a nudge from someone passing by to close. Though it is like they are in a bubble, enclosed and separated by a membrane of light and sound waves from the other dances, moving in time with them, but not able to touch.

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Next: 47. Undulate

Image found on flickr, by Brandon Fick, used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

Jeroen blinks, and she realises that he hadn’t noticed Orhan attached to her. His expression sours, and he starts to slide away. She grips his hand tighter, steps towards him, Orhan in sync with her. She looks back at Orhan – his teeth are bright white in the flashes of light, and his eyes are open, accepting, while Jereon’s face is hard, irritated.

“More fun with three,” she says, adding a chuckle to make it seem the most obvious thing in the world.

But Jereon doesn’t respond directly.

She watches as the instinctive unwillingness to share flash across his face. His eyes looking on her greedily, possessively, and flicking with annoyance back at Orhan. But she keeps Orhan’s hand close to herself, holding it near the top of her thigh, and she looks up at Jeroen, unable to keep the begging from her eyes, but steely enough to let him know that this is all or nothing.

Orhan shuffles closer to her, and she can sense from how near he is that he will not need convincing. Jeroen purses his lips, and looks between her and Orhan. But he hasn’t let go of her hand, so she ducks her head a little bit, her eyes casting down, and she peers back up through her eye lashes, demure, pliant, and her body almost shudders when Jeroen drops her hand, and grabs her shoulders, pulling him to her with Orhan pressing in behind her.

“You’re too kind,” she says, teasing, not to let him know she was ever worried that he might say no.

“Just shut up and dance,” he says, wry, a fraction perturbed, as if his pride has taken a tiny blow.

Not because he’s had to share her, but because, in the battle of wills, she won.

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Next: 46. Sway

Image found on flickr, by Dr Stephen Dann, used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.