This is the second time my novella Gods Among Men has been anthologised (it was also in Bi Magic) – third if you count Erotica Apocrypha, when it was called Storms of Ancient Gods. It’s intriguing to see how the story fits in with the others around it – I’ve not yet read the anthology to comment, but a look at the contents page tells me I’m in good company and that it will be a fascinating read. If I do say so myself. 🙂
My story, “Eclair”, features that most delicious item the chocolate elcair. It took me a couple of goes to get the story right. I knew I wanted a young female connoisseur of the pastry, and I knew I wanted an older, male experienced pastry chef/chocolate-tier, and it would involve some kind of punishment for some kind of transgression. The idea of my character winning something like a golden ticket to a prestigious party allowed reference back to Roald Dahl’s classic Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but there is no Oompah Loompah in sight in this tale.
(Has that just tempted someone to right Oompah Loompah smut? I kind of hope it will.) 😉
Oh, one last thing: my character’s Melanie and Herr Bauer are in no way shape or form I way totes promise is based (visually) on a certain pair of actors who appear in a certain Tarantino film. Nope. In no way whatsoever…
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.
A Horned God in Her Garden— “Phallus Impudicus”
I’d like to welcome Rebekah Shardy to the blog today to talk about her story “Phallus Impudicus” from Fifty Shades of Green. Over to you, Rebekah!
As a married middle-aged woman, I hiked alone in wild places and sometimes felt the unexpected flush of raw desire. This inspired me to write about the lonely divorcee, Carol, whose bed (and flower beds) have been neglected far too long. Despite following the conventional female script, her once-rambunctious gardens, both real and metaphorical, are withering. What is a woman to do?