FAVORITE SCENES FROM FAVORITE AUTHORS

A Sapphic Fiction Anthology

Edited by I HEART SAPPHFIC

INTRODUCTION

Dear Reader,

While many people think sapphic fiction is just another name for lesbian romance, there is so much more waiting to be explored within this unique collection of genres.

In case you didn’t know, the word sapphic is an umbrella term that includes lesbian, queer, bisexual, pansexual, homoromantic asexual or demisexual, sapphic trans people, sapphic nonbinary people, and other identities on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum.

Within sapphic fiction, it’s possible to find books in dozens of the most popular genres such as fantasy, mystery, science fiction, historical fiction, and many more.

To put together this anthology, I Heart SapphFic asked over 190 authors who are writing sapphic fiction today to choose one scene from their collection of work that was their very favorite. We then asked them to explain why they chose this scene as the one they most wanted to share with you, the reader.

We hope you’ll enjoy these favorite scenes from favorite sapphic authors!

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I Heart SapphFic was founded by TB Markinson in 2017 because she was tired of not hearing about the hottest trends until they were lukewarm at best. TB was joined by fellow author and childhood friend Miranda MacLeod to grow the site from a once-a-week newsletter into a one-stop shop for all your sapphic fiction needs. 

I Heart SapphFic now offers six days per week of fresh content, including reading challenges, books on sale, free books, best of the best polls, books of the month, pet photos, random facts about authors, SapphFic community news, author resources, and so much more. Plus the original Tuesday New Release Newsletter, of course.

Don’t want to miss out? Sign up for the I Heart SapphFic Newsletter today!

A NOTE ABOUT PURCHASE LINKS

Every excerpt included in this anthology has at least one purchase link, which is a universal link that will take you to your local Amazon marketplace.

Sometimes, this link will also give you the option to buy through Apple. This is a quirk of the particular link service we used (which happens to be underwritten by Apple).

Where applicable, we’ve also included links to buy direct from the publisher. We’ve also included an option called “Other Stores,” which will take you to a landing page with Apple, Kobo, and/or Barnes and Noble purchase links (not all books are for sale in all stores).

These are NOT affiliate links, meaning I Heart SapphFic does not earn a commission on any books purchased through the links contained in this anthology.

A NOTE ABOUT SPELLING AND EDITING

The content in this anthology has been provided by the individual authors and appears as we received it without additional proofreading.

Please note that both American and British spelling is used according to author preference. We are thrilled to welcome authors from all around the globe in this anthology.

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

THE AM SHOW BY T.B. MARKINSON AND MIRANDA MACLEOD

Blurb:

Amanda Morgan is a morning show host with a fierce reputation, but a bitter divorce has left her feeling all washed up. Being mistaken for a grandmother at her own son’s wedding has her teetering on the edge—until a stranger at the reception rocks her world.

Dakota Washington is a young reporter who is flabbergasted to meet her career idol—and biggest celebrity crush—at a friend’s out-of-town wedding. Their night together goes beyond her wildest fantasies. And she’s had a lot of them.

They were never meant to see each other again, until fate steps in, landing Dakota a job at Amanda’s network in New York City. Thanks to a draconian employment contract, the network could fire them on the spot for getting romantically involved. They agree to keep their distance and never breathe a word about their past.

Easy, right?

Except every time they’re alone for more than five minutes, they end up having sex. Soon, it’s obvious this is more than a fling, leaving them with an unthinkable choice: give up the careers they’ve poured their souls into or lose the love of a lifetime. Which one will be easier to walk away from?

Tell us about this scene:

Famous morning show host Amanda Morgan has been tasked by her network executives with showing Dakota, the young reporter they’re hoping to woo to fill an unexpected vacancy on the early morning show, around New York City. What no one else knows is that Amanda and Dakota have met once before, under very intimate circumstances, and it didn’t end well.

In this scene, Dakota has convinced Amanda to ditch the official schedule and trade in her business attire for a tourist’s disguise. After a surprisingly fun day sightseeing as her alter ego “Martha from Duluth,” Amanda is determined to end the day with a carriage ride through Central Park.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

What we both loved at this point in the story is that Amanda and Dakota were starting to relax around each other. They’ve overcome their initial reservations at being thrown together again and are starting to have fun. Neither of them knows quite how to deal with that, so what comes out is a lot of quick-witted humor to cover their discomfort. There’s something so fun about writing teasing banter between two smart women.

One of the things we enjoy most about writing famous characters and couples who are at very different stages in their lives is the chance to peel away all of the expectations and assumptions that come with those identities to reveal the people they really are underneath. Those are the people who are going to fall in love, and it’s a scene like this one where you really start to see why this couple will be so compatible.

The other thing that was so fun was researching the iconic New York City settings our characters move through during this scene. We drew on every trip we’d ever taken to the city to put together the perfect day of sightseeing, even though this book was written during pandemic restrictions that meant we rarely left our houses. It was a great escape to play the tourist, even if it was only in our imaginations!

* * *

Excerpt:

“Sorry, ladies,” the man at the kiosk said as they approached. “This was the last one.”

“For the whole night?” Amanda’s hands tightened into fists. She’d gone all day without anyone knowing who she was, but if she wanted to take Dakota for a carriage ride in Central Park—which she did now more than ever, with a ferocity that surprised her—she was probably going to have to use her celebrity card and ruin the magic of the day.

Before Amanda could open her mouth, Dakota pointed to the advertising poster on the front of the stand and asked, “What about a small one like that?”

The vehicle in question appeared tiny compared to the one in front of them and was a dazzling white with gold accents. Both the carriage and horse were bedecked with garlands of roses.

“I’m afraid that’s used exclusively for our honeymoon package,” the man informed them. Amanda’s heart sank as the carriage with Martha from Duluth and her husband Bob pulled away. Even if she could’ve used her celebrity status and a big wad of cash to bribe them to give up their seats, it was too late.

“What a happy coincidence!” Dakota slipped her arm around Amanda’s shoulder, leaving her too surprised as a shiver ran down her spine from the sudden closeness to ask what she was up to. “We’re actually on our honeymoon right now.”

Nice one, Dakota. Quick-witted didn’t begin to do this woman justice.

“Is that right?” The corners of the man’s eyes crinkled as he studied them. Amanda made a living being able to read people, and this guy wasn’t taking the bait.

“Yes, that’s right.” Sliding her own arm around Dakota’s waist, Amanda pulled herself to her full height—which still left the top of her head level with Dakota’s ear, damn it—and lifted her chin. “Do you have a problem with two women getting married? I’d hate to have to report your operation to the city for discriminatory practices. It would be such a shame if a bad review ended up all over the news.”

“No, ma’am.” The man’s face went as gray as his hair. “I don’t have a problem at all. In fact, a buddy of mine married his husband last year, and I went to the wedding and everything.”

“That’s so good to hear.” Amanda stared down the poor man, relieved that in lieu of outing herself as a famous morning show host, she’d simply had to channel her inner Karen. “So, we can have the honeymoon package tonight? Preferably before the sun’s set all the way, if you don’t mind.”

“Er, I mean,” the man wrung his hands, eyeing the darkening sky warily but clearly loathe to get into any more trouble, “it usually takes some advance planning to get it all together.”

“I’ll tell you what.” Amanda’s tone dripped honey. “Would double your usual rate make up for the lack of warning?”

“I think it might. Let me make a quick call.” The way his eyes immediately brightened, Amanda could almost see the dollar signs reflecting in them. After a brief conversation with someone back at the stables, he flashed a broad smile. “Got it all taken care of. Ahmed will be here in a minute with the carriage, and Kyle will meet up with you a little later.”

“Perfect.” Amanda glanced at the total bill, registering a dollar amount high enough for her to briefly wonder if they would get to keep the horse when they were done. Knowing a credit card with her name on it would ruin their disguise, Amanda tried not to groan as she counted out a sizable stack of hundreds.

“You carry that much on you?” Dakota whispered incredulously. “Do you wanna get mugged?”

“It’s for emergencies,” Amanda explained with a half shrug. Her lips twitched as she added, “You know, like when you have to catch a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park on a moment’s notice.”

A minute or two later, a dappled gray horse arrived, pulling the same elegant carriage from the poster, right down to the rose garland, plus a little detail they hadn’t seen on the photo. On the back was a huge sign that read Just Married.

“Goodness.” Amanda cleared her throat, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. “You do think of everything.”

“Don’t you two worry about a thing,” the man assured them as he positioned a step stool beside the carriage and held out his hand to assist them. “Even with short notice, no detail will be overlooked. You have my word.”

“Thank you so much.” Dakota was gently shoving Amanda to climb aboard, presumably before anyone saw through their ruse and decided to cancel the deal. “You have no idea how much this means to us. Martha here has been wanting to do this forever.”

As she settled onto the tiny seat, which really wasn’t intended to hold two full-grown adults unless they were very cozy with one another, Dakota treated Amanda to a smile so alluring it instantly proved toe-curling attraction was a real thing. To think somewhere in an alternate universe, Martha would share a loveseat not much larger than this with her new wife while watching television at night and wake up to the sight of that gorgeous smile every morning in their little apartment in Duluth. Not that Amanda had any thoughts of ever marrying again or anything. Certainly not to someone she’d only recently met. Who was sixteen years younger than her. And made her wear flip-flops and a ball cap.

But, still, that Martha was one lucky bitch.

The man waved. “You two love birds have a wonderful ride.”

Once they were off, Amanda turned to Dakota and said, “Nice job with the cover story, but why do you keep insisting on giving me that hideous old lady name?”

“Because it’s kinda fun, and it gets your goat.” Dakota winked.

To avoid thinking about all the sensations that wink had set off inside her, Amanda crossed her arms, pretending to be in a huff. “Okay, Ethel.”

“That’s a good one.” Dakota nudged Amanda’s side with an elbow. “Would you like me to start calling you Ethel instead?”

“You’re impossible. You know that?”

“You are not the first to tell me that.” Dakota squealed as she spotted a silver ice bucket and two fluted glasses. “Look! Champagne.”

“Thank God.” Amanda reached for the bottle. “I could use a drink.”

* * *

The AM Show ©2021 by T.B. Markinson and Miranda MacLeod

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

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About the Author:

TB Markinson has published over 30 novels, many of them making the Amazon bestseller lists for lesbian fiction and lesbian romance. In 2017, TB founded IHeartSapphFic.com, a place for authors and readers to come together to celebrate sapphic fiction. When she isn’t writing, she’s hiking, watching sports, visiting historical sites in New England, or reading.

Sign up here for TB Markinson’s author newsletter.

Miranda MacLeod lives in New England and writes heartfelt romances and romantic comedies featuring witty and charmingly flawed women who love women. Before becoming a writer, she spent way too many years in graduate school, made costumes for professional theater and film, and held temp jobs in just about every office building in downtown Boston.

Sign up here for Miranda MacLeod’s author newsletter.

NOT THE MARRYING KIND BY JAE

Blurb:

Small-town florist Ashley Gaines loves her little flower shop and putting together the perfect bouquets for weddings and other happy occasions. Her own love life, however, is far from blossoming. Ash has decided that staying in the closet is safer than risking her heart again.

Local bakery owner Sasha Peterson hasn’t had much luck mixing it up with romance either. Besides, she’s too busy whipping up delicious treats to have time for a relationship.

But when their town’s first lesbian wedding forces them to work together, Ashley and Sasha discover they have more in common than they imagined.

During food fights, cake tastings, and slow waltzes, they begin to see each other in a new light. Soon Ashley has to admit to herself that Sasha is tempting more than just her sweet tooth.

Not the Marrying Kind is the second book in the Fair Oaks series, but since it has new main characters, it can be read as a standalone.

Tell us about this scene:

Ashley has been trying to fight her growing feelings for Sasha for a while because she thinks she can't have a happily ever after as an out lesbian in their tiny little town. But when carefree baker Sasha teaches her how to make cupcakes, Ash starts to lose her grip on her self-control.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

After writing twenty-three novels, I found it incredibly hard to pick a favorite scene, so I asked the readers in my Facebook group for help. They struggled to pick just one scene too, but a lot of them mentioned the “food fight” scene in Not the Marrying Kind, and that one is definitely among my top 5 scenes.

It was so much fun to write the scene and to watch the relationship between Ashley and Sasha grow. Usually, girl-next-door Ashley is the responsible type, so it was special to see her have some fun and give up her iron self-control when she’s around Sasha.

The scene was also inspired by one of my favorite movies, Fried Green Tomatoes. I ended the scene in Not the Marrying Kind the way the food fight scene in the movie should have ended…and the book has a much happier ending too!

* * *

Excerpt:

The handle of the mixer vibrated beneath Ash’s fingers. At least she could blame the tingle going through her arm on the mixer, even though she knew that it had been caused by Sasha’s hand brushing hers whenever she added an ingredient.

Baking with Sasha was fun—and not just because of those accidental brushes of their fingers. Sasha was a patient teacher, and as a result, Ash felt more confident by the second.

In what seemed like no time at all, they had a smooth, delicious-looking frosting.

Normally, Ash preferred strawberry to raspberry buttercream, but she was tempted to stick her finger in the bowl and try some.

Sasha peeked into the bowl. “Ooh, that looks yummy.”

When she looked back up, Ash discovered that Sasha had managed to get a pink streak of frosting on her cheek. In combination with the pirate bandanna on her head, it looked almost like a scar from a saber fight.

Before Ash could stop to think about it, she had reached out, gently wiped it away, and licked the frosting off her finger. It was only when the sweet yet tart taste of the raspberry buttercream spread across her tongue that she fully realized what she had done. What the hell…? Her finger slid out of her mouth.

Surprise, amusement, and something else—something that made Ash want to fan herself—mingled in Sasha’s gaze. “Hungry?” Her voice was low and husky.

You’ve got no idea. Ash felt as if she’d been starving all of her life.

“Because if you are, you can have a little more.” Sasha ran her finger along one of the beaters and smeared a glob of frosting across Ash’s face, then wiped her finger on the edge of Ash’s apron.

Ash reached up and touched the sticky substance on her cheek, then looked at her fingertips with wide eyes. “I can’t believe you did that!”

Sasha grinned. “New bakers have to be christened. You and your pristine white apron looked way too clean. We can’t have that.”

“Hmm. You and your apron are missing a bit of pink color too.” Ash ran her finger along the second beater and swiped a bit of frosting across Sasha’s apron, right where a brownish streak ran across her chest already. Her really soft chest. Oh shit. Heat flooded her face. What is it with me and her breasts?

Sasha stared down at the pink smear on her apron. Clearly, she hadn’t expected Ash to do that.

Ash hadn’t either. When she was around Sasha, she found herself doing things she never could have imagined doing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Sasha didn’t let her finish. She grabbed a beater with each hand and wiped them up and down Ash’s apron.

Little specks of pink frosting landed on Ash’s white T-shirt.

Oh, just you wait, my friend! Ash dipped two fingers into the bowl and scooped out more of the frosting.

Sasha stood her ground, her eyes flashing a challenge. “You wouldn’t dare.”

That had been the wrong thing to say. Ash had been underestimated her entire life, and she wanted Sasha of all people not to see her in the same way. She flicked the frosting right into Sasha’s face.

A loud gasp echoed through the kitchen, and Ash wasn’t sure if it had come from her or from Sasha.

Slowly, Sasha opened her eyes, which she had reflexively closed, and wiped her face. “Oh, you are so going to pay for this!” She snatched the bowl away from Ash, stuck her whole hand in there, and threateningly lifted her handful of pink goop.

Uh-oh. Ash slowly backed away. After a few steps, the counter stopped her retreat. Her gaze darted left and right, looking around for escape routes, but there were none.

Sasha towered over her with a triumphant grin. “Got you now!” She rubbed her handful of frosting in Ash’s face as if it were snow.

Sputtering, Ash tried to get away. She licked off a bit of frosting that ran down her face. God, it was delicious, possibly even better than strawberry buttercream—not that she’d ever admit that. But that attack still called for revenge. Since Sasha was much stronger and still had the frosting bowl firmly in her grip, she needed new ammunition.

The bag of flour sat on the worktable.

Ash lunged for it, reached inside, and flung a handful at Sasha.

In retaliation, Sasha lopped more frosting at her.

Soon, they were laughing and screaming and pelting each other with flour, powdered sugar, and every other food item within reach.

Sasha skidded through a puddle on the tiled floor, slid to a stop in front of the giant fridge, and wrenched the door open to take cover behind it. With a triumphant cry, she located something inside.

Oh no. It was a container of eggs. If Sasha got her hands on them… Ash dove across the kitchen and tackled her.

“Uff!” Sasha dropped the eggs. They both went down.

They ended up on the tiled floor, with Ash on top and Sasha stretched out beneath her.

“Give me the eggs or…!” Ash tried to reach the container Sasha held out of reach.

“Or what?” Sasha drawled.

“Or I’ll have to do something drastic.”

Sasha flashed a challenging grin. “Like what?”

“Like…like…” Ash paused. Her ribs and cheeks ached from laughter. She hadn’t laughed so much in years. She stared down at Sasha, who was still laughing unrestrained. The sound of it vibrated through Ash’s body.

Pink frosting dripped down Sasha’s nose. Her bandanna had slipped off, and her hair was dusted in flour. Powdered sugar clung to her face and to her tank-top-and-apron-clad body, and Ash had the sudden urge to lick it off. God, she was beautiful.

“Like…like this.” Ash bent down and kissed her.

* * *

Not the Marrying Kind ©2019 by Jae

Published by Ylva Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Ylva Publishing

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Jae is the author of twenty-three award-winning romances between strong women. She lives in the sunniest city in Germany, where she worked as a psychologist but gave up her day job in 2013 to write full-time. As far as she’s concerned, it’s the best job in the world.

Sign up here for Jae ’s author newsletter.

ONLY THIS SUMMER BY RADCLYFFE

Blurb:

Dr. Lily Davenport is the poster child for burnout—physically and emotionally. All she wants is a few months of nondemanding work at a summer camp, of all places, so she can figure out what to do with the rest of her life. The last thing she expects is to run into a woman who awakens a passion she hadn’t even realized had died along with all those she’d failed to save.

Forest ranger Chase Fielder is not in the market for a relationship. Counting on people never leaving is for fools. A fling with Lily promises to be exactly what Chase is looking for—short-term, hot as a forest fire, and one Chase can extinguish whenever she wants. Now all she has to do is convince Lily they’re a perfect match.

After all, it’s only one summer.

Tell us about this scene:

Lily and Chase take an unplanned walk in the dark.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene evokes childhood memories of camping by the lake and the timelessness of long hot summer nights. My parents took me camping in the Adirondack mountains before most of the state campsites even existed. We camped by the side of a small lake, Putt’s Pond, every summer beginning when I was five years old. The same half dozen families would return every year and we all became friends, although we only saw each other once a year. We got water from a hand pump down the road and carried it to our tent site. The sanitary facilities were primitive, and we bathed in the lake. I did not understand then how lucky I was to have had those three weeks of careless abandon every year. A forest ranger came to check on us once a week or so, and one of my greatest treasures was a NY State forest ranger emblem he gave me and that my mother sewed on my sweatshirt. I never went to a summer camp like the one in this book, but I have been to the mountains.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Why night?” Lily asked. “Why is it your favorite time?”

Chase hesitated. How could she explain how the night was tied to her best memories? How listening to the night sounds and watching the stars revolve overhead brought her back to a time before loss taught her to be wary of trusting joy. One of the first things her father had taught her about the beauty of the night was the constellations. Reclining beside her and pointing out the formations, he’d told her the stories, the ancient myths, behind each one. With the dark close around them and his quiet, sonorous baritone turning the night sky into a canvas of wonder, she’d been happy without ever realizing how precious the moments were until he was gone.

Avoiding the answer, Chase slowed at the crest of a moderate decline and reached out for Lily’s hand. “It gets steep here, and with the dew on the pine needles, it can be slippery.”

She felt more than heard Lily’s gasp of surprise when their fingers touched.

“Thank you,” Lily said, clasping Chase’s hand. “I came down here this morning with Sarah, but everything seems different now.” She laughed quietly. “Bigger, somehow. And I feel a lot smaller. In fact, every time I look out anywhere, I’m reminded just how insignificant I am out here.”

Chase smiled. “Once you get used to feeling part of what’s around you, that might change.”

“You don’t think you have to be born to it to belong?”

“Not if you’re willing to really look,” Chase said. “It’s not much farther now.”

“Oh,” Lily exclaimed as, suddenly, the trees gave way to the shoreline. “The lake is so…perfect.”

“That’s a good word for it,” Chase murmured, watching Lily, who was far more enchanting to look at than even one of her favorite views. Lily’s face shone as if lit from within, her lips faintly parted, her eyes, normally so green, flickering like firelight now. Seeing Lily’s pleasure was a pleasure in itself, a new experience for her. She’d always enjoyed pleasing women physically, finding unique satisfaction in the intensity of the moment, even as she felt safely apart. But she’d never shared a moment like this—when Lily’s appreciation of something so precious to her felt like a gift.

“It’s as if it’s sleeping,” Lily whispered, “totally at peace.”

“If you’re up for it,” Chase said quietly, careful not to break the spell, “there’s a spot a little farther up the beach that I think you’d like.”

Lily turned to her, and for a second, that expression Chase doubted she was aware of settled over her face—calm and impenetrable as she made her decision. Chase didn’t know what she was thinking or how she decided, but she’d seen it several times that day. Lily’s eyes would come alive as soon as she’d charted a course.

They sparkled now in her direction, and Lily said, “Lead on.”

Under other circumstances, with another woman, Chase might have interpreted that as an invitation, but she knew this wasn’t. Lily Davenport did not strike her as the kind of woman who made roundabout innuendos. Chase had been looking for—hoping for, more than she wanted to admit—some signal of interest from Lily but hadn’t seen one. Now she could accept the reality there was none or keep hoping that Lily was very good at not showing her intentions. Since she wasn’t anywhere close to giving up, she’d hold out for the latter.

As they walked along the shore, she could have released Lily’s hand, as the going was much smoother, and she’d already clicked off the flashlight so only moonlight illuminated the path, but Lily made no move to draw away, and she didn’t want to let go. Lily’s hand was smooth and warm and firm, and her fingers curled around Chase’s as if they liked being there. Chase took her around the bend into the little cove where a wooden dock, long and not much wider than she was tall, stretched out into the placid lake.

“Come on out here,” Chase said and led Lily out to the end of the dock. Water lapped gently against the pilings, and the dock swayed softly like a woman dancing in her arms. “Take your shoes off.”

“What?” Lily actually croaked, and Chase stifled a laugh.

“Take off your shoes and socks.” Chase unlaced her boots and pulled them off along with her socks and sat on the end of the dock. After a few seconds of hesitation, Lily removed her running shoes and socks and sat down beside her.

“Now put your feet in the water.”

“Oh no. No way,” Lily said adamantly. “It’s dark down there. There could be anything down there. In fact, there is anything—many anythings—down there. No.”

Laughing, Chase nudged Lily’s shoulder teasingly. “Okay, I’ll go first.”

She dangled her legs over the side, and the warm water came up to the middle of her calves. “Nothing down there but my toes.”

Lily peered down. “I can’t see a thing. This close, the water is black.”

“I know you’re not afraid of the dark.”

“I’m afraid of quite a lot of things,” Lily said softly in that tone that told Chase she was thinking of those moments when the crisis had been at its worst. Moments Chase could only try to imagine and knew she couldn’t even come close.

All the same, she ached to reach out, somehow touch those memories, and smooth away the sharp edges that still caused Lily to bleed. She knew that wasn’t possible but wished it still. Instead of offering empty words, she offered what she could. Silence. Slipping an arm around Lily’s waist, she pulled Lily a little closer against her side and watched the moonlight skim the surface of the lake like a lover’s hand.

Slowly, Lily lowered her legs until her feet dipped into the water. She caught her breath. “It’s so warm! It was freezing this morning.”

“It happens at night, because of the reversal of the thermal currents,” Chase said. “The cool air pulls the heat from her depths—kind of like a kiss.”

Lily leaned away until she was facing her and laughed into her eyes. “That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

* * *

Only This Summer ©2022 by Radclyffe

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Radclyffe has written over fifty romance and romantic intrigue novels, dozens of short stories, and, writing as L.L. Raand, has authored a paranormal romance series, The Midnight Hunters. She is also the president of Bold Strokes Books, one of the world’s largest independent LGBTQ publishing companies.

THESE THIN LINES BY MILENA MCKAY

Blurb:

Some lines should never be crossed...

In the heart of Paris, Chiara Conti is a Queen trapped in an Ivory Tower of haute couture, fortune and lovelessness. Lonely and dejected, she’s longing for inspiration, for direction, for understanding.

When Vi Courtenay falls at her feet, losing her shoe like a veritable Cinderella, events are set in motion that will unravel their carefully fashioned lives.

With everything tainted, will the thin lines they rend ever be mended?

Tell us about this scene:

The scene occurs in part two of the book, when the main characters reconnect after years apart, amidst hurt feelings and bruised egos.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

The scene was chosen because it presents the perfect dynamic between two wounded characters. It shows how the past affects our decisions and our view of the world. The main characters, Chiara and Vi, have been through hell and back and their relationship has altered in ways they themselves can no longer explain, but the fire between them still burns as hot as on the first day they met and their attraction is inescapable. Once they pour the gasoline of jealousy on an already explosive situation, all hell breaks loose.

* * *

Excerpt:

“How dare you?” The insult in her tone rang so clear to her own ears, she didn’t even care how transparent she was. 

Vi, whose back had been resting on the closed door, pushed off it and took a step closer to her, which, in the close confines of the office, brought her just within reach. 

“How dare I? It’s been days, and I’ve been nothing but a beating girl for you, Renate, Aoife…” Vi’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “And that’s all fine and dandy, but this Ricarda bullshit is a bit too much, even for whatever it is you are doing here, Chiara.” 

“Whatever it is I’m doing? I’m not doing anything!” On pure instinct, Chiara took a step back, bumping against her desk, scattering some of the post-its stuck to it. Vi’s eyes followed the falling pieces of paper, and Chiara wanted to slap her. “You have been nothing but insulting since you crossed my threshold.”

Vi’s throat worked as she visibly tried to contain herself. “I have apologized for the misunderstanding. I thought you knew me better than to think I’d mock you—”

“Well, that is certainly rich coming from you. Because once upon a time I did, in fact, think I knew you better… And that Vi never threw anything in my face. Unlike this version of you, who has done nothing but flaunt your women.”

Vi’s eyes narrowed speculatively before she took a step closer. When she spoke, her voice had a calculating lilt to it. Too precise, too practiced. 

“And would it make you angry, that I’ve been loved?” 

Chiara felt those words hit the mark. Each and every one of them dead center of her heart with vicious intent. Jealousy blacked the corners of her vision. Or was it greened?

She couldn’t hold in the vitriol. Five years was too long anyway. She’d account for it with herself later, flagellate herself for the truth, for the lies, for everything in between. 

“Yes, yes it would.” 

The words fell out of her mouth like bricks, hard and heavy, clattering to the floor between them. Chiara just stared, realizing how close she and Vi were standing to each other. As her eyes trailed upwards, from the expensive shoes to the fitted trousers hanging on prominent hip bones, to the small gap showing off a toned midriff, then farther up still, she saw how hard Vi was breathing, how fast her heart was hammering with the pulse visible at her long graceful neck, exposed now as her t-shirt slipped down one shoulder. 

“Good.” Vi’s voice was barely discernible in the air of the room that seemed flammable. 

Their eyes met. Pain. So much of it, and all of it here, not even under the surface, not even under the skin like the ink of Vi’s tattoos. All of it right in this space crackling between them—that was somehow getting smaller—even as Chiara realized Vi was indeed taking one more step and verbena enveloped her senses again. And mixed with all that pain, was the one thing that was neither new, nor good, nor something she’d ever known how to fight. Desire. 

A second… A truck passed under the windows, rattling the glass. Another second… Someone yelled an obscenity down the street. Yet one more second, and a ragged breath one of them drew in…

The moment was suspended in the air, stretching like a rubber band until Chiara physically felt it snap and all bets were off. All lines were in the rearview mirror.

She reached for the collar of the t-shirt, even as Vi’s hands dove into her hair, tugging and pulling until the pins of the carefully and artfully arranged bun were scattered on the floor. 

Their mouths met, lips and tongues and teeth and all that rage, even as Vi lifted her onto the desk, further scattering the notes and the multitude of fountain pens she could never quite decide on. 

“Vi…” She didn’t recognize her own voice, her own body. So needy. So hot. Her clothes too tight, too suffocating, because only one thing made sense. Everything was wrong. They were wrong. Not good. Not healthy. But so right. Right now. 

* * *

These Thin Lines ©2023 by Milena McKay

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Milena McKay is a Lambda Literary and Golden Crown Literary Society award-winning sapphic fiction author.

Milena is a cat whisperer who wears four-inch heels for work while secretly dreaming of her extensive Converse collection. Would live on blueberries and lattes.

Her love for Cate Blanchett knows no bounds.

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LOST IN PARADISE BY RACHEL LACEY

Blurb:

When a Manhattan businesswoman and a reclusive French artist are stranded together on a deserted island, opposites attract...and sparks fly. But with love on the horizon, will they survive to claim their happy ending?

Nicole Morella boards a private Mediterranean cruise with one goal: to reclaim herself after her divorce. When she sits next to a beautiful blonde in the ship’s lounge, she’s knocked off balance by the immediate attraction between them, and it’s not just because Nicole hasn’t found her sea legs yet. Fiona stirs things in Nicole that haven’t been stirred in a long time, but a fiery kiss turns dangerous when the ship is hijacked. The women launch a daring escape, leaving them adrift in an empty lifeboat.

Fiona Boone has been adrift most of her life, but never in such a literal sense. She’s a survivor, though, so when they land on a deserted island, Fiona’s ready to do whatever it takes to stay alive until they’re rescued. In the meantime, she can’t get enough of the feisty woman she’s stranded with, despite her usual fiercely independent nature. Although they’re lost, Fiona finds something unexpected in the comfort of Nicole’s touch. But when an injury puts her life in jeopardy, they begin to worry help won’t arrive in time. If she survives their ordeal, Fiona might just face her biggest challenge yet: falling in love.

Tell us about this scene:

Nicole and Fiona have just escaped in a lifeboat after their cruise ship was hijacked, but Fiona was injured during their escape. Fiona's used to taking care of herself, though, so she's defensive when Nicole tries to check her over, causing Nicole to get a bit creative with her methods... (oh, and Fiona's British, for accent context.)

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It would be impossible to pick one favorite scene. I mean, there are so many that are special to me for different reasons. But when I think of "favorites," Lost in Paradise immediately comes to mind. This was the first sapphic book I ever wrote, and I loved writing it so much that I drafted it in a week. One week! Once I started, the story just poured out of me, and I was like THIS IS WHAT I'M SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING. And as you may know, there was no looking back. I've been writing sapphic books ever since!

Once I narrowed my search to Lost in Paradise, I remembered this flirty little scene. It was such a needed moment of levity after several action-packed and stressful chapters, and such a bonding moment for Nicole and Fiona, and I just love it. They're both still so scared and barely know each other beyond the "lust at first sight" of their meet-cute. Fiona just wants to put her defensive walls up, but Nicole's already crawling over them. I had so much fun writing this scene, and I hope you love it too!

* * *

Excerpt:

“Okay.” Nicole turned toward her, grabbing the first aid kit off the seat. “Let me have a look at you.”

Fiona snatched the case from her hands. “I’m perfectly capable of patching myself up if anything needs patching.”

Nicole saw the defensiveness in her eyes, the way her shoulders had hunched beneath the straps of her red dress. Damn, but Fiona really had a hard time accepting any kind of caretaking. Nicole leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek as she slid the case from her fingers. “You could, but you don’t have to, because you have me. I’m no doctor, but I have two younger brothers. I’ve patched my share of skinned knees.”

“Fine, then,” Fiona said, shoulders slumping. “Make it quick, would you? We need to get back to bailing so we can try to get the engine started.”

“I’ll be quick.” Nicole kissed the corner of her mouth, loving the way Fiona visibly softened every time she touched her.

“Not playing fair,” Fiona whispered, closing her eyes.

“I never promised to.” She gave her another quick peck before turning her attention to the business at hand. She knelt in the cold water that swirled around their feet, lifting Fiona’s sodden skirt to reveal a red gash below her right knee. “This looks pretty deep, Fi.”

“Mm,” was her only response.

“You probably needed stitches, but it’s too late for that now, even if we had a way to get you to a hospital. There are some adhesive strips in here. I’m going to use a couple of them to hold it together after I clean it.”

“Get on with it, then.”

Nicole grinned at the false bravado in her voice. “I really love your accent. Did I tell you that last night?”

“No, you didn’t.” Fiona’s tone softened again, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Well, I do.” She ripped open an antiseptic wipe and swabbed the wound with it. Fiona hissed out a breath, pressing a hand over her eyes. “Sorry,” Nicole whispered, reaching for one of the adhesive strips.

“Want me to talk dirty to you?” Fiona managed a teasing tone despite the pain, choosing to keep the conversation on her accent rather than her injury.

“Later,” Nicole said, giving her uninjured knee a squeeze. She placed three strips along the cut and sat back on her heels, satisfied with her work. “Okay, where else are you hurt, or are you going to make me do a full body search?”

Fiona narrowed her eyes at her, leaning forward so that her cleavage was inches from Nicole’s face. “I can think of a few body parts I’d like you to search.”

“You’re impossible,” Nicole said, grinning at her. After hours of endless fear and stress, it felt good to laugh, to banter and flirt, to do something normal. Even though they still faced an uncertain future, the immediate danger had passed, and Nicole was feeling downright euphoric.

Fiona’s lips curved in a soft smile.

“Seriously, is there anything else I should know about, or am I going to have to strip-search you?” Nicole rose on her knees, leaning in so that her hands bracketed Fiona’s waist.

Her breath hitched, breasts spilling over the bodice of her dress as she leaned toward Nicole. “Later, when we’ve got our feet on dry land.”

Nicole’s heart was beating so hard, she could barely breathe. Heat flooded her body, sweeping past the numbing cold from the water sloshing around her. She closed the distance between them, crawling forward so that her hips met Fiona’s, letting the heat between them provide a needed distraction as she ran her hands up and down Fiona’s arms, feeling for bumps and wounds as much as she was thrilling herself with the freedom to touch her.

Fiona sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, chest heaving, blue eyes locked on Nicole’s. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m giving you the PG version of that strip search.” Nicole almost didn’t recognize her own voice, it had gone so soft and breathless. Fiona watched quietly as Nicole inspected a bruise by her elbow before running her hands down her sides, squeezing here and there to check for injuries.

“Tease,” she whispered, but Nicole supposed since she didn’t wince or draw away that none of her ribs were broken.

“You left me no choice.” Nicole slid her skirt farther up her thighs, revealing an enormous black bruise. “Shit.”

Fiona clamped her thighs around Nicole’s hips. “Kiss it and make it better?” she murmured, drawing out each syllable in a way that accentuated her accent, which was certainly not an accident. She was trying to distract Nicole, and she was doing a damn good job of it, because Nicole was so turned on, she could hardly concentrate on the task at hand. And since the sight of the bruise had tears swimming in her eyes as she imagined how badly it must hurt, she bent her head and kissed it.

Fiona arched her back, one hand in Nicole’s hair as if she might pull her in for a kiss. Here they were, adrift somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea, Nicole crouched between Fiona’s thighs, lips against her skin…as water lapped around them in their not-yet-bailed-out lifeboat. She looked up at Fiona, and for a long moment, neither of them said a word.

Nicole pressed one last kiss against Fiona’s thigh before pulling her dress back into place. “Did I miss anything?”

“My head,” Fiona said softly, reaching up to touch a spot on the back of her head. “I hit it when I fell.”

* * *

Lost in Paradise ©2019 by Rachel Lacey

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Rachel Lacey is a Goldie award winning romance author who is passionate about both reading and writing sapphic books. She lives in the mountain of Vermont with her family and a variety of rescue pets.

Sign up here for Rachel Lacey ’s author newsletter.

ADMISSIBLE AFFAIR BY ADRIAN J. SMITH

Blurb:

One-night stands aren’t supposed to turn into forever.

Bellamy has worked with and loved her wife of ten years, but it’s never enough. When Bellamy finds her limit of abuse and a young, cute waitress offers an opportunity, she seizes the moment, knowing she’ll never see Payton again. But months later, Bellamy comes face-to-face with the one-night stand she can’t forget and the failed marriage she has yet to escape.

Payton knows she can’t be the normal twenty-something when she ends up with custody of her nephew. Leaping at the opportunity for a full-time job, she has instant regrets when in walks the woman of her dreams. Bellamy. Her one-night stand from the waitress job she just quit. Not willing to risk stability for love, Payton is determined to stand by Bellamy as she fights for her law firm and reclaims her life.

Neither are prepared for what lies ahead or just how much they will have to risk to protect the ones they love.

Tell us about this scene:

Months ago, Bellamy had a one-night stand with a waitress, the one and only time she cheated on her wife. She never expected to see Payton again until her wife hired her to work at their law firm. Fast forward a few more months with a dissolving marriage, Bellamy and Payton can't stop thinking about each other, and they manage to find little moments of hope in the chaos that surrounds them.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene is an exchange of tensions. There is the ease from the sexual tension that has been plaguing Bellamy and Payton for months as they have tried to stay away from each other and hold up boundaries. Yet there's also the increase of the tension with Bellamy's marriage to Kendra and just exactly what it means that she is still not free to be with Payton. I also love the power dynamics in this scene, Payton is younger and the employee, but she has no issues declaring what she wants and working toward that. Bellamy's consistent overthinking and lack of confidence in relationships shines through as she wavers in her decisions.

* * *

Excerpt:

Bellamy rose up, and Payton followed her down the hall. They walked into a stark white kitchen. Payton was beginning to sense the theme of the house was clean, white, and untouchable. The countertops were a white marble, the appliances stainless steel, which she knew would smudge with kid fingers in no time. Everything was neatly put away in its perfect spot like no one lived there at all. 

Shuddering, she waited as Bellamy opened the fridge and brought out some infused water. She poured each of them a glass before leaning against the counter and taking a sip. Payton hesitated before drinking. She felt like it was now or never. Setting the drink off to the side on the counter, she turned her body and lined it up with Bellamy’s. 

Bellamy’s lips parted in a protest, but Payton stepped in even closer, staring straight up into Bellamy’s eyes. They were far closer to an even height level since Bellamy was barefoot instead of in three or four inch heels. Payton’s heart pounded hard as she drew in a breath, Bellamy’s flowery perfume taking over her senses. She gripped Bellamy’s drink and set it down. 

“You know, there’s one thing I regret,” Payton whispered.

“What’s that?” Bellamy’s voice was breathy, her chest rising and falling rapidly. 

Payton leaned in closer, one hand on either side of Bellamy’s body on the counter, effectively locking her in place. “That I have yet to properly kiss you.”

Bellamy’s breath hitched, catching in her throat. Payton took the opportunity and brushed her lips gently over Bellamy’s, barely touching. The sigh that echoed from Bellamy spurred Payton on. Moving a hand to Bellamy’s hip, she held still as she brushed their mouths together again, this time adding a little pressure. She kept her eyes open, staring straight at Bellamy with each breath she took. She wanted to see Bellamy’s reaction, feel Bellamy under her. 

“We shouldn’t,” Bellamy whispered, but she didn’t move, didn’t push Payton away. 

Halting any forward motion, Payton waited to see what might happen. She wasn’t going to kiss Bellamy if she truly didn’t want it, but she needed to know how to proceed. Seconds ticked by, her thumb rubbing up and down against Bellamy’s hipbone. 

Bellamy made the next move. Fingers brushed over Payton’s bangs, moving them aside until Bellamy cupped Payton’s cheek, her hand sliding to hold her jaw and her ear. Payton still waited to see what Bellamy would do next. Closing her eyes, Bellamy pressed their foreheads together and drew in a deep breath. 

“I’m married.”

“I know,” Payton answered. 

“My wife…”

“Is not a great person.”

“Yeah, that’s a nice way of putting it.”

“This isn’t any different than what we did before.”

Bellamy moved away at that comment. She regarded Payton with a deep look. Her lips quivered before she spoke. “This is vastly different, Payton. That was… that was physical.”

“Hmm, I remember.” A flush rose in Payton’s cheeks. “You’re right. This isn’t only physical.”

Bellamy stared at her for another minute. Payton could watch her mind working. She’d seen Bellamy do it every day for the past two months at work, and it was no different standing in the center of Bellamy’s kitchen, pressed against her, hoping they could both break down the last of the walls. 

“Bellamy?”

“Hmm?”

Payton dashed her tongue out against her own lips and let out a breath. “Are you going to kiss me?”

“I have no doubt of that, Payton.” With a grin, Bellamy’s gaze shifted from Payton’s mouth to her eyes. “The question is how and when.”

“Now. I mean now.”

“I don’t—”

“I want you to kiss me,” Payton interrupted. “If that’s your hesitation. I don’t know how much more forward I can be.”

Bellamy closed her eyes. “It’s not about forwardness. It’s about ethics.”

“We’ve already kind of screwed the ethics playbook. Literally.”

“That was before I was your boss, to be clear.”

“Oh, I thought we were talking the marriage ethics playbook, since that’s the one you keep bringing up.” Payton snorted. “You want the boss one? All right. Your wife screwed that playbook. Now, Bellamy, please, kiss me.”

“I… I want to, please don’t think that I don’t want to.”

Payton shifted her stance, pressing her hips into Bellamy’s to try and keep her attention focused on what they both wanted. “I want to, too. So what’s the hold up?”

Sighing, Bellamy shook her head. “I don’t even know anymore.”

Bellamy took the next step, bending her head to capture Payton’s lips. Payton groaned, falling into the embrace. Bellamy had a sharp taste as their tongues tangled and danced. Payton drew in a shuddering breath, moving one hand up Bellamy’s back to press it firmly between her shoulder blades, bringing her in closer. 

Nipping at Payton’s lower lip, Bellamy cupped both of Payton’s cheeks and kept their bodies pressed tightly together. Payton groaned and moved her other hand up the front of Bellamy’s shirt, stopping short of finding her bra. Bellamy’s skin was hot against her hand, and she lost herself. Her entire world became about Bellamy and that moment, the embrace, the two of them together, Liam sleeping in the other room. 

Payton lost track of how long they stayed like that—lips touching, hearts beating against each other—as Bellamy leaned against the kitchen counter. When they finally broke apart, Bellamy pulled Payton back in for one last quick kiss, then smiled. 

“This was quite an unexpected surprise,” Bellamy whispered. 

“A good one, I hope.”

“Yes, but Payton, I can’t stress enough that now is not the time for this. Today aside, I am still married. I haven’t filed for divorce yet.”

“But you’re planning to.”

“I am, but I don’t want you to get tangled in my mess.”

“I’m already in it.”

* * *

Admissible Affair ©2021 by Adrian J. Smith

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

About the Author:

Adrian J. Smith has been writing nearly her entire life but publishing since 2013. AJ jumps genres from action-packed police procedurals to the seedier life of vampires and witches to slow burn romances. AJ currently lives in Cheyenne, WY and plays the roles of author, wife, mother to two rambunctious kids, and occasional handy-woman.

Sign up here for Adrian J. Smith ’s author newsletter.

TANGLED VOWS BY ANNA STONE

Blurb:

One year. Five million dollars. A proposal she can’t refuse...

Escort Ruby Scott is used to waking up in the bed of a wealthy woman. What she isn’t expecting is to wake up with a ring on her finger and married to Yvonne Maxwell, one of the executives behind the Mistress Media empire, a woman as alluring as she is cold.

For ten years, Yvonne has been sitting on an inheritance she can’t touch until she’s married. An encounter with an escort in a red dress presents the perfect solution—a marriage of convenience. In exchange for a year playing the role of her wife, Yvonne offers Ruby a life of glamour, decadence, and more money than Ruby ever dreamed of.

Yvonne is adamant that they keep their arrangement strictly business. But as Ruby’s submissive side awakens, Yvonne can’t resist the temptation to make Ruby hers, and Ruby is intoxicated by the commanding woman and the release Yvonne grants her.

As Ruby falls deeper into Yvonne’s seductive world of luxury and power games, both women struggle to keep their hearts from getting caught up in the passion between them. As threats to their fake marriage plot loom, Ruby and Yvonne find they have far more to lose than just the inheritance.

Tell us about this scene:

Escort Ruby has woken up with a ring on her finger in the bed of wealthy executive Yvonne Maxwell. And she has no memory of the night before.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is my favourite scene because I love the way it sets the stage for the relationship to come. When it comes to her clients, high class escort Ruby is used to being in control. But ice queen Yvonne isn't like Ruby's usual clients. A high powered executive who runs an international media empire, taking control is what she does, both in the boardroom and the bedroom.

* * *

Excerpt:

Ruby took a few deep breaths. She needed to find out what was going on. She splashed some cold water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. She was a mess, her hair in disarray and her eyes puffy.

Why was she even thinking about how she looked? She had far bigger problems.

She took another deep breath and opened the bathroom door to find Yvonne sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked just as mesmerizing as she had the night before. Once again, she was dressed in a black dress, a simpler one this time. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun, her hazel eyes greener in the daylight. Her arms were crossed, and she studied Ruby with narrowed eyes, her expression inscrutable.

Ruby’s eyes flicked down to Yvonne’s left hand. Sure enough, she wore a gold wedding band that matched Ruby’s. Ruby’s stomach flipped. For a moment, she thought she was going to throw up again.

“Ruby.” Yvonne gestured to a chair in the corner. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

“I’ll stand.” She might have to run to the bathroom again.

Silence hung between them. Yvonne continued to study Ruby, her demeanor calm and inscrutable. Why wasn’t she freaking out about the situation like Ruby was?

Finally, Yvonne spoke. “You don’t remember last night, do you?”

Ruby shook her head. “Not a thing.”

“That makes two of us.”

Ruby frowned. If Yvonne didn’t remember anything, why was she so calm? She didn’t seem at all flustered by the fact that she was now married to a stranger. What was going on?

“The last thing I remember is pouring us both another round of scotch,” Yvonne said. “Then I woke up to find a ring on my finger and you in my bed. I found this on the table.” She held up a piece of paper. It was a marriage certificate with both their names on it. “Apparently, we thought this was a good solution to my inheritance issue.”

Fractured snippets of the night came back to Ruby. They’d left the hotel bar, to go God knew where. They’d drunk some more. Eventually, they’d ended up in a little ‘chapel’ standing before a celebrant dressed as Elvis. Ruby didn’t remember anything in between, like when and why they’d decided to get married. 

Ruby shook her head. “We need to undo this.”

“If that’s what you want,” Yvonne said. “We can get an annulment on the basis that we were unable to consent to the marriage because of our inebriated states. We fill out some forms, and it will be like this never happened.”

Ruby breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Of course, there’s another option.”

Ruby froze. “What do you mean?”

“We can take advantage of the situation. We can remain married. Come to some kind of agreement.”

“You want to stay married?”

“Only until I can get my inheritance. Of course, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Ruby shook her head. It was a crazy idea. Besides, Ruby knew better than to get into an arrangement with a client, especially after the last time she’d done so.

Nothing could possibly make this worthwhile. Right?

“How would you make it worth my while?” Ruby asked.

“It’s simple. Once I get the inheritance, you get a share of the money,” Yvonne said. “How does one million sound?”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “A million dollars?”

“Of course, there are additional perks to being my wife. I’m sure a woman like you is accustomed to luxury, but the luxury I can provide you with goes beyond the gaudy glitz of Vegas.” She waved her hand around the room. “You’ll have everything you could possibly want.”

Ruby twisted the ring around her finger absently. That did sound tempting.

“One of the conditions of the inheritance is that I need to stay married for a year in order to get the full amount. But once the year is up and the money is in my hands, you’ll get your share, and we can get a divorce and go our separate ways.”

A year. That was a long time. But one million dollars was so much money. There were so many things Ruby could do with it. If she was smart, she could set herself up for life.

“What do you want in exchange?” she asked

“For you to be my wife,” Yvonne replied. “At least, to outside eyes. In order to claim my inheritance, I need to have a witness to the fact that our relationship is genuine, so we’ll need to convince the world that we’re a real married couple. You’ll come live with me, in my apartment. For the majority of the time, you’ll be free to do as you please. Your life will be your own.” Yvonne crossed one slender leg over the other. “But when I need you by my side, as my wife, you’ll be mine.”

A thrill whispered through Ruby’s body. “I don’t know.”

“I’d give you time to decide, but unfortunately, time isn’t something I have to spare right now. I fly out of Vegas tonight. You have until 4 p.m. this afternoon to think about it.”

* * *

Tangled Vows ©2020 by Anna Stone

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Anna Stone is a lesbian romance author. Her sizzling sapphic romances feature strong, passionate women who love women. In every one of her books, you’ll find off-the-charts heat and a guaranteed happily ever after. Anna lives in Australia with her girlfriend and their cat.

Sign up here for Anna Stone ’s author newsletter.

FITTING IN BY AMANDA RADLEY

Blurb:

Starting a new job is hard. Especially if you’re the boss’s daughter

Heather Bailey has been in charge of Silver Arches, the prestigious London shopping centre, for several years. Financial turmoil brings a new investor to secure the future and Heather finds herself playing office politics with the notoriously difficult entrepreneur Leo Flynn. Walking a fine line between standing her ground and being willing to accept change, Heather has her work cut out for her.

When Leo demands that his daughter is found a job at Silver Arches; things become even harder.

Scarlett Flynn has never fit in. Not in the army, not in her father’s firm, not even in her own family. So starting work at Silver Arches won’t be any different, will it?

Tell us about this scene:

In this scene, shopping mall operations director Heather is attempting to get to know new employee, and daughter of the new boss, Scarlett Flynn. Only Scarlett isn't the easiest person to speak to.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Fitting In is a book that is very close to my heart and Scarlett is a character I love. She's autistic and struggles to understand others, often accused of being cold and robotic in her interactions with people. Heather is drawn to Scarlett, at first to help her to integrate with the team at the Silver Arches shopping centre, but later for other reasons.

In this scene, Heather has just been told that Scarlett's awkward behaviour may be an autistic trait and decides to try to initiate a conversation that quickly spirals into an invitation she hadn't expected to issue.

* * *

Excerpt:

“May I join you?”

Scarlett looked up from her lunch and slowly nodded. As Heather sat down, she noticed it was exactly the same lunch, laid out in exactly the same way, as the last time she’d seen her in the food court. 

A small voice reminded her that some of her research had indicated a desire in autistic people to follow similar patterns.

She shook the thought from her mind. She didn’t know if Scarlett was autistic, and it wasn’t her place to analyse her.

“Are you well?” Heather asked casually.

“Yes.”

Heather smiled to herself at the lack of a detailed answer or a question as to her own health. She pointed to the book Scarlett had placed on the table.

“Nico just sold me that very book.”

“We have a… lending arrangement,” Scarlett explained. “Which is in line with centre guidelines on gifts and bribes.”

“I’m sure it is,” Heather agreed. “What do you think of the book so far?”

Scarlett’s cheeks reddened a little, and Heather was surprised and intrigued. She wondered if the content was a little more risqué than the cover indicated.

“It wasn’t my… thing,” Scarlett said.

Heather wanted to ask more, but there was something about Scarlett’s tone and behaviour that told her now wasn’t the time to push. Heather knew all too well that conversations could easily come to a stop with Scarlett if one wasn’t careful. 

But she couldn’t help but wonder why Scarlett hadn’t enjoyed the book. Was it too graphic? Was Scarlett straight? 

“You’re off work this weekend, aren’t you?” Heather asked, briefly wondering when she had become aware of Scarlett’s schedule. 

“I am.”

“Any exciting plans?” Heather asked.

“No.”

Heather laughed. “Okay. Do you have any unexciting plans?”

Scarlett seemed confused by Heather’s laugh and frowned. “No, I have no exciting or unexciting plans.”

“You must have some plans,” Heather pushed.

Scarlett looked like she wanted to sigh at Heather’s continued attempts at conversation, but she didn’t, which Heather thought was progress.

“I may clean my kitchen,” Scarlett allowed.

“All weekend?” Heather drawled.

“Maybe. It will depend on how dirty it is.”

“Do you leave it to get dirty?” Heather asked.

“No. I cleaned it last week.”

“So it’s likely to not be very dirty at all?” Heather pressed.

“I will see this weekend,” Scarlett replied.

Heather chuckled. “Sounds like a very uninteresting weekend to me. Are you looking forward to it?”

Scarlett seemed to consider the question for a moment before she softly shook her head. “No, not really.”

“Why don’t you do something fun? You have your employee discount for here. You can watch a movie at the cinema? Or do some shopping?”

“I don’t find those activities much fun.”

Before Heather had a chance to think what she was asking she spoke. “Do you like dogs?”

“Yes, very much.” Scarlett’s eyes twinkled with interest. It was the first real excitement Heather had ever seen the woman demonstrate. 

Heather paused for a second. The invitation was on the tip of her tongue. An internal battle warred for a few moments before her heart won out.

“I’m going to Hastings this weekend to see my parents. They run a dog rescue charity. Why don’t you come down? You could spend the day with us on Saturday. There are frequent trains from London to Hastings, only an hour or two’s journey. You can help me walk some dogs along the cliffs, get some fresh air. What do you think? That’s more fun than cleaning your already clean kitchen, isn’t it?”

For a moment Scarlett looked at Heather as if she had lost her mind, and Heather wondered if she had. Her parents wouldn’t mind her inviting a member of staff to join them for the day; she’d invited people before, but they were staff members who had become friends, people like Ravi. Not people she hardly knew like Scarlett.

It wasn’t an invitation she extended to many people. She could count on one hand the number of people who even knew her parents ran the charity, and now she was inviting the most aloof person she’d ever met.

She wondered if she should retract the invitation before the situation became more uncomfortable. 

“Yes,” Scarlett said unexpectedly. “I would like that.”

Heather did her best to cover up her shock. She hadn’t expected Scarlett to agree; in fact, she’d expected Scarlett to cite some buried line from the centre rules handbook that said the centre director absolutely mustn’t ever invite someone she hardly knew to her parents for the weekend.

But Scarlett had said yes. And she’d said she’d like it. Heather didn’t have to search her memory to know that Scarlett had never said she would like something before.

Any hesitation drifted away as she got her phone out of her pocket. 

“What’s your number? I’ll text you to arrange the details.”

Scarlett quickly reeled off the digits and Heather saved them.

“I’ll drop you a note later on tonight,” Heather said.

Her eyes caught the clock in the corner of the phone, and she realised she’d better hurry if she was going to miss the Friday afternoon traffic. 

“I have to go; I’m running late as usual.” Heather picked up her lunch and stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Scarlett said goodbye and then returned to something she was reading on her phone. 

As Heather walked through the food court, she wondered what exactly she’d tell her parents. 

It was going to be an interesting weekend.

* * *

Fitting In ©2020 by Amanda Radley

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Amanda Radley is an internationally best-selling author with a focus on sapphic romance.

She won a Lambda award for her comedy caper Huntress in 2018. In 2020, her romantic comedy Fitting In was an Amazon Kindle Storyteller Award finalist with judge Claudia Winkleman referring to it as a smash hit.

Sign up here for Amanda Radley ’s author newsletter.

THE EXECUTIVE LIAISON BY ANNA STONE AND HILDRED BILLINGS

Blurb:

By day, she’s her boss. By night, something naughtier…

Isabel Diaz’s post-college life couldn’t be better. While

relationships have always proved elusive to her, she’s finally putting herself out there on dating app Darkest Desires. Plus, she has an amazing job leading the graphic design team at a hot Seattle startup.

But everything changes when the startup is sold off and Scarlett Black takes over as CEO. Scarlett is just as ruthless as her formidable reputation suggests. But there’s something mysterious about the icy older woman that draws Isabel to her.

Scarlett Black has it all. The oldest daughter of Seattle’s wealthiest family, she’s been groomed to take over the family company and is engaged to the perfect man. Yet her picturesque life isn’t what it appears to be. And at night, she escapes that life as her seductive alter ego, Dominique.

When she encounters a woman on Darkest Desires who is seeking the same escape, things heat up between them. But little does Scarlett know that the woman she’s having an anonymous liaison with is her young employee. And Isabel has no idea that Scarlett and Dominique are the same captivating person.

As their sensual fling escalates, tensions rise in the office. It’s only a matter of time before their real identities are exposed and both women are forced to confront their true feelings.

Tell us about this scene:

Isabel has been having a sensual online fling with older woman Dominique, and they're meeting for the first time at a private club. Little does Isabel know, Dominique is actually her boss, Scarlett Black.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

We chose this scene as our favorite because it perfectly captures the essence of the book. The story is about two women exploring their sexuality and finding freedom from the pressures of their everyday lives in an anonymous online relationship. While both women believe they're strangers, they're actually boss and employee. But when they meet in person for the first time in this scene, they're so blinded by desire that they're unable to see what's right in front of them. Or perhaps, deep down, they don't want to see the truth, because they're scared of losing what's between them. Will they be able to overcome their fears and embrace their true feelings?

* * *

Excerpt:

“Can I help you?” A silky voice to go with the satiny mask on the hostess’s face.

“I… I have a reservation,” Isabel stammered. “It’s under the name Dominique York. She told me to go ahead inside. She’s… my Mistress. I’m sorry. This is my first time doing something like this.”

The hostess offered her a reassuring smile. “Of course. Your Mistress has reserved the Marquis Room. I can take you there.”

Isabel followed her down a long hallway that grew increasingly darker the farther back they went. Rooms with names written on the doors—some subtle, some more obviously erotic—stole her attention, until she almost bumped into the hostess, who was stopped in front of a small door.

It read The Marquis Room.

The hostess unlocked it and showed Isabel inside. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

“She’s here already?” Isabel asked.

The hostess didn’t respond. As soon as Isabel was inside, the woman closed the door. Isabel was alone.

All she could do was wait.

The room was smaller than she expected. Small, but practical. A full-sized bed took up most of the space, the only illumination coming from dim lights on the wall that tinged everything with red. She could barely see her hand before her, but she could see everything on the walls.

Now she understood why only premier members were allowed to reserve these rooms. They came with real BDSM tools and implements, the kind the club probably didn’t want strangers without social insurance to use. Isabel recognized some of the things neatly arranged on the walls, such as the paddles and crops. After all, they were the subject of so many of her fantasies, and she dreamed of the day that Dominique would use them on her. But what the hell was the thing with the rubber spikes on the side?

She wrenched her eyes away from them before they made her lose her nerve, and sat down on the edge of the bed, sheets rustling beneath her, squeezing her knees beneath her palms. She would have played with her hair, but it was tied up in a tight bun. It was a look she rarely wore. It had taken her multiple attempts to get it right.

But Dominique had requested she do something different with her appearance. “Go outside of your comfort zone. Wear less clothing if that does it for you. Or do something different with your hair.” The latter had won out.

Slowly, the seconds turned into minutes. Slowly, Isabel began losing her mind. Since no one was around to see her, she braved a look at her phone, but there were no messages. Then again, she had no service in the room.

Suddenly, the door handle turned.

Isabel’s breath caught in her chest. She smoothed down her dress and sat up straight. She wanted her Mistress to behold someone ready to make her dreams come true.

Instead, it was Isabel who saw her dreams manifest before her.

Dominique.

The world stopped as she entered the room, a mesmerizing apparition in an emerald-green dress and heels. A Venetian mask obscured her eyes, and her lips and hair were so red that they outshone the lights in the room.

My Mistress. The Dominique to her Beauty.

She closed the door behind her and twisted the lock before sweeping toward Isabel on the bed.

Isabel’s heart skipped a beat. “I—”

She hadn’t heard a sound from the moment Dominique had stepped through the door. And she heard nothing now as a finger pressed against her anxious lips.

“No need to speak,” Dominique said. “Unless it’s your safeword. Inferno, correct?”

Isabel nodded. Dominique’s voice, low and smooth like smoke and silk… She had heard it before, whispering into her earpiece in a noisy club. But she hadn’t anticipated how arresting it would sound in person. Perhaps she should have, given Dominique’s penchant for the dramatic.

As her fingers tipped back Isabel’s chin and promised her the world, another woman came to mind. 

Doesn’t Ms. Black sound just like this?

No, not quite. Scarlett’s voice was higher and more clipped in its authority. Dominique’s voice was soft. Deep. Secure.

Passionate.

“I have a gift for you.” Dominique placed a small bag on the end of the mattress. “Close your eyes, my Beauty.”

My Beauty… Hearing those words straight from Dominique’s lips was enough to set Isabel’s soul alight.

She shut her eyes. She wanted to show Dominique that she was ready to follow orders, no matter what they were. Besides, she trusted this woman whose touch was like silk, whose commanding voice reminded her of the latent desires lurking deep within her.

A satiny scrap of fabric wrapped around Isabel’s face, knocking her mask slightly askew. Her fingers gripped the mattress as Dominique tightened the blindfold behind her head.

She stroked Isabel’s hair with gentle fingers. “Hair as dark as night. I adore it.”

My hair’s not that dark. But Isabel didn’t correct her. Her hair probably looked darker in this room, where anything that wasn’t bright or neon was nothing more than a shadow.

“You may speak when your Mistress demands it. As I am now.” Beyond Dominique’s velvet tones was the faraway thrum of a bassline. Music was a constant presence in the club, and her Mistress’s voice was but another instrument tonight. “Tell me you trust me, Beauty. That’s all I need from you.”

Isabel trembled, but not because she was afraid. Through her conversations with Dominique, they had learned each other’s limits, both explicitly and implicitly. She knew that Dominique would never do anything she wasn’t comfortable with.

No, her pulse raced and her whole body quivered because her excitement had reached fever pitch. Every inch of her was ready for Dominique.

“I trust you, Mistress.”

* * *

The Executive Liaison ©2022 by Anna Stone and Hildred Billings

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Anna Stone is a lesbian romance author. In every one of her books, you’ll find off-the-charts heat and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Hildred Billings writes hot lesbian romance. From bombastic billionaires to sweet small-town country girls, she loves to take favorite tropes and slightly turn them on their heads.

Sign up here for Anna Stone’s author newsletter.

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THE NUMBER 94 PROJECT BY CHEYENNE BLUE

Blurb:

Renovation takes a sexy turn when a cute country girl rocks up with a tool belt and plans that throw the whole gay neighbourhood into disarray in this light-hearted lesbian romance.

When handywoman Jorgie’s uncle leaves her an old house in Melbourne, it’s a dream come true. Sure, 94 Gaylord Street is falling apart, and she has to deal with her uncle Bruce’s eccentric friends thanks to his unusual Will.

But that’s okay. She’ll fire up her power tools and turn the dilapidated terrace house into a desirable inner-city pad. Then she’ll sell up and head home to the country.

Jorgie hasn’t counted on falling for cute neighbour Marta, who’s found her heart-home among the tight queer-community of Gaylord Street. Between mugs of too-strong tea and Jorgie’s lack of a working shower, the two forge a surprising connection.

But what happens when the renovation’s complete? Can Jorgie really just toss aside her tool belt and saunter away?

Tell us about this scene:

Jorgie is renovating the old house she inherited in Melbourne and falling fast for her neighbour, Marta. While fixing the roof, she inadvertently sees something she shouldn't in Marta's yard.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love warm and happy stories, and The Number 94 Project is my number one feel-good book. Sometimes, when I want a quick lift, something to make me smile, I grab it and open it almost at random. So picking something from this book as my favourite scene was an obvious choice.

In this excerpt, the main characters, Marta and Jorgie, are still in the getting-to-know you stage of their relationship, that early stage where your body is alight with possibilities, and forging and building a connection is a stomach-tingling pleasure. Although Jorgie accidentally peeps on Marta in her back yard, their banter shows they already have a strong connection and are working toward the same goal. The situation is ripe for annoyance and misunderstanding, but instead, they talk. And flirt. It’s very obvious these two already have something good going on.

* * *

Excerpt:

The music came from Marta’s yard. Jorgie peered over the edge of the roof straight down into Marta’s space. Their yards were the same size, but while hers looked like a bomb had dropped, Marta’s looked like Home Beautiful. Large planters edged a space laid with sandstone pavers. A wrought-iron rack on the far fence held some of Marta’s signature bright pots, some with small plants in them, some empty. A row of colourful pottery tiles lined the fence. Jorgie was too far away to see the designs, but she bet they were the Aussie flora and fauna that characterised Marta’s work.

Jorgie’s gaze snapped to the still figure in the centre of the yard. Her back to Jorgie, Marta stretched into a graceful Warrior pose.

And she was naked.

Jorgie’s breath whooshed out of her mouth and she clenched her hand on the towel. No, not naked, but not far off. A tiny pair of purple bikini pants covered her butt cheeks, and little else. Above the undies, Marta’s spine curved upward in graceful line. Her skin held a touch of sunbloom on her shoulders and arms, but her back was pale and milky. Only the thin line of a matching bra strap interrupted the curve of her upper body.

Holy moly! Jorgie froze in her hunkered position. Obviously, Marta thought herself unobserved. Obviously, this was something she did regularly. Marta clearly hadn’t woken and decided today was the day to saunter out half-naked into her yard to do some yoga, on the off-chance Jorgie might be on the roof. Hell, no. Jorgie was interrupting her personal time, and she probably wouldn’t be happy to find a peeping Tomasina on the roof.

Jorgie stifled a nervous giggle. Maybe she should hop over the roofs like a cat burglar and make her escape before Marta saw her. But that plan was a bust; even if Marta didn’t notice her slinking across the rooftops like a bad Santa, eventually she would have to slither down into someone’s yard.

That was a terrible idea.

Maybe if she remained still for long enough, Marta would finish her routine and go inside to get dressed and never know that she had spied.

“And into King Dancer pose.” The soothing voice that floated up from Marta’s yard sounded exactly as Jorgie had imagined.

Marta moved into a second graceful pose.

How the hell does she hold that position without falling flat on her nose? She obviously didn’t need Coral’s advice about core exercises.

Jorgie’s thighs started to ache. Gently she lowered her butt to the roof, her gaze riveted to Marta, drinking in the sight. Her pale skin set off her slender body, and her blonde hair fell about her face. When Jorgie caught a glimpse of her expression, it was serious, concentrating deeply.

Jorgie wiped her damp palms on her shorts. She should move away, back to the other end of her roof. Maybe she could shimmy down the ladder and be back in her yard before Marta wondered what the noise was. Certainly, she should look away.

Certainly, she should do a lot of things.

But, a tiny voice argued in her head, she hadn’t realised Marta was there when she fixed the roof, hadn’t noticed until the music had chimed a little louder. And Marta wasn’t naked; her undies probably covered as much as any bikini she wore to the beach.

Jorgie closed her eyes briefly and shifted when a roofing screw dug into her butt. Imagining Marta without her clothes was one thing; seeing her nearly naked in the flesh was another, and the gorgeous reality of it was the stuff of fantasy. Heat pooled in Jorgie’s belly, curling its way down to coalesce between her legs. Her nipples pressed almost painfully against her singlet. How was she supposed to climb safely down a ladder with her knees as jelly-like as they were, and her mind firmly in the bedroom?

She had to leave. As inadvertent as her peeping had been, she couldn’t sit here and gawk, invading Marta’s privacy. She tried to rise, but something tugged at her butt. The roofing screw again. She tugged to free it and the material gave way with a loud rip.

“Shit!” Jorgie’s foot caught and she stumbled a step forward with a loud clatter of boots on iron. She caught herself and retreated a step away from the edge of the roof. Cool air on her butt told her she and Leo now had matching shorts.

When she dared to look down, Marta was facing her, hands on hips. Her full breasts were contained only by the cups of her purple bra. Full coverage, Jorgie noted, no lacy half-cups, before she forced her gaze up to Marta’s face. The tingling between her legs ramped up a notch. If only she had a distraction, something to take her mind off her arousal—and the reason for it.

“If you wanted to see me without clothes, you could have asked.” Marta folded her arms across her chest. “My yard is screened from the neighbours for a reason.” Her voice could have sliced glass.

Jorgie spread her hands. “I’m sorry. I came up to fix the roof. It’s leaking after last night’s rain. And I wasn’t looking into your yard, but then I heard the music.”

“You could have said something. Let me know you were there.”

Jorgie swallowed her nerves. “I should have. But you were concentrating so hard, I thought I’d back away and finish the roof later. You heard me trip when I ripped my shorts.” She turned and presented her backside to Marta as evidence.

When she faced Marta again, her lips were twitching. “I can’t say that view’s not appealing, so I guess we’re even.” She unfolded her arms, giving Jorgie a full frontal of her breasts, narrow waist, and the teeny-tiny bikini pants.

* * *

The Number 94 Project ©2021 by Cheyenne Blue

Published by Ylva Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Ylva Publishing

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Cheyenne Blue writes big-hearted sapphic romance novels set in Australia—the latest being For the Long Run. She lives in the Mary Valley in a small house with a big view—perfect for morning coffee, evening wine, and anytime writing. Check her out at www.cheyenneblue.com.

Sign up here for Cheyenne Blue ’s author newsletter.

BEFORE YOU SAY I DO BY CLARE LYDON

Blurb:

What happens when you fall for your bridesmaid?

Abby Porter has a high-flying job and the perfect fiancé in Marcus Montgomery.

But Abby’s world turns on its head when he hires a professional bridesmaid to help her in the run-up to the wedding. When Abby meets Jordan, she can hardly breathe.

Marcus is oblivious.

The wedding is weeks away.

Now, the only question is: will Abby make it to the altar?

Tell us about this scene:

Bride-to-be Abby has fallen for her professional bridesmaid Jordan. But she's fighting it. They're on her hen weekend, at a wine tasting, and Abby is drunk and has her guard down. She spills wine down herself. Jordan takes her to the bathroom to clean her up.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I had this scene in my mind from the start. The whole book, up to this point, Abby has been reluctant to (a) work with Jordan; and (b), connect with her feelings for her. It's too risky. She's straight, and just about to marry a man, right?

The hen weekend has been fraught with sexual tension, she's trying so hard to keep it together, but then she gets drunk, Jordan is helping her, and they're alone. It's not a first kiss, it's not hot sex, but it is the moment where Abby finally says what she's thinking, unfiltered. Even if she's going to regret it in the morning. She lets her guard down, touches Jordan, and it's a sweet release. One she doesn't think anything will come from. She's almost melancholy. But she's also accepting. She's going to marry Marcus, and that's that. Or is it?

I loved writing this scene. I was right there with the characters, in that bathroom, living the moment in all its awkward, technicolour glory. Big things happen in bathrooms, right? This scene was a shift. And then, later that night, they might just kiss...

* * *

Excerpt:

Abby turned on her stool, and grabbed the seat with her right hand just in time to stop her from falling. “Oops!” she said. “Wobbly me!” 

Jordan put a hand on Abby’s arm to steady her. “Okay?” 

Abby raised her gaze, nodding as she took her glass. 

Jordan sighed. The sooner this was over and they were back at the villa, the better. 

“Everyone!” Abby waved her glass in the air. 

Jordan winced, taking a step back. 

“I just wanted to say, thank you all for coming to one of my last weekends as a single woman.” She pulled on her top. “Plus, I love my T-shirts. Cheers!”

Whoops from the group, then clinking all around. 

When she reached Jordan, Abby paused, then tapped her glass to hers. Then Abby went to drink, missed her mouth, and poured most of the red wine down her white T-shirt that simply said Bride. 

She jumped up, distress etched on her face. However, her sudden movement sloshed more wine over the edge of the glass, down her forearms and onto her front. If her face had been contorted before, now she looked like she might cry. 

Jordan took the glass out of her hand, as the bartender offered serviettes to wipe herself. 

“You want me to throw some white wine on you, Abs?” Delta shouted from her stool. 

Abby gave her a steely look, followed by a glimmer of a smile. “A hard no.” Then she slumped. “Look at my Bride T-shirt!” 

Jordan dabbed her arms and her top with the serviette, until Abby glanced up at her as she connected with her breast. 

Jordan sucked in a breath. “Shall we go to the bathroom?” 

Abby nodded. “I think that’s best.” 

“You want my arm?” Jordan offered it. 

Abby frowned. “I’m not that drunk.” 

It took all Jordan’s efforts not to disagree.

Gloria jumped off her stool. “You want me to help?” 

Jordan shook her head. “Stay and enjoy your wine. We’ll only be a minute.” 

The bathrooms were large and plush, with plump white hand towels, lit candles, and huge mirrors so they could assess the damage. 

As soon as she was in front of a mirror, Abby pouted. “At least it’s only my hen T-shirt.” 

Jordan pulled up a chair and sat Abby down, wetting the end of one of the hand towels right away. “Exactly. For now, it’s damage limitation time. You can get the red wine out easier if we soak it up now.” 

She leaned over Abby and began dabbing at her top, while also trying not to touch her at all. It was an impossible task. Meanwhile, Abby began touching Jordan’s hair. 

“So blonde, so gorgeous,” Abby said, twirling Jordan’s hair around her fingers. “Such a beautiful woman to have come into my life at just the wrong time.” 

Jordan froze. What should she do? This was unchartered territory. 

“Abby.” Jordan’s tone held a warning she hoped Abby heeded. “Now’s not the time. I’m trying to clean you up.” 

Abby gave her a smirk. “You’re not going to do it if you don’t touch me, though, are you?” She took Jordan’s hand in hers and pressed the towel onto her breast. “That’s how you clean me up, Jordan.” She pressed harder again. “I need a firm hand.” 

Jordan gritted her teeth as desire shot down her, landing right at her centre. 

She had to shelve her desire and do her job. Especially now Abby was back to pawing her face, her fingertips on the tip of Jordan’s nose. 

“So perfect, just like a model,” Abby said, her voice a lullaby. “But not for me, because off limits.” She pouted.

Jordan grabbed both Abby’s hands and placed them by her side, before bringing her face level with Abby’s. “Listen to me. I’m really going to clean you up now. I need you to stop touching me so I can do that, okay? People are not far away, and I’ve got a job to do today.” 

Abby nodded, a smile spreading across her face as she lifted both hands in the air, palms out. “I promise no more touching. Not allowed. Even though you’re so pretty. And your hair.” She raised a hand to it again. 

“Abby!” Jordan was almost shouting. 

Abby sat up straighter, putting one hand by her side, the other giving Jordan a swift salute. “Yes, sir!” 

Jordan shook her head, suppressing a smile. She wet the towel again and this time, she didn’t mess around. She mopped Abby up as best she could. All the while Abby looked at her like she was hanging the moon. Another time, another place, Jordan might have entertained it. But not here, in this bathroom. 

“So strict,” Abby said. 

Jordan ignored her, running her gaze over her front. No, she wasn’t going to focus on her breasts. 

But Abby obviously had other ideas, as she placed a hand on Jordan’s left cheek. “I wonder if you’d be so strict in bed? But I guess I’m never going to know because that would make me a bad person.” She gazed into Jordan’s eyes. 

This time, Jordan let her. 

“I’m not a bad person, Jordan.” 

Jordan’s heart boomed. “I know,” she replied. 

“I just want to kiss you. Is that so bad?” Abby tilted her head, her eyes sad, her lips inviting. 

Jordan’s body flushed with want. 

She stepped back and held out a hand to Abby, who took it, staring at their connection. 

Jordan wasn’t going to let her dwell. She pulled Abby up. 

“Come on. Let’s get you back on your wine stool before they send out a search party.”

* * *

Before You Say I Do ©2020 by Clare Lydon

Published by Custard Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Other Stores

About the Author:

Clare Lydon writes contemporary sapphic romance with all the feels, and is a No.1 best-seller around the globe. She co-hosts the Lesbians Who Write podcast, and has spoken at queer festivals and prides around the UK. When she's not writing, Clare watches far too many home-improvement shows, while drinking nuclear-strength coffee & eating Twirls.

Sign up here for Clare Lydon ’s author newsletter.

PRESIDENTIAL BY LOLA KEELEY

Blurb:

How can you find love when the whole world is watching?

High-flying pediatric surgeon Emily Lawrence is new to Washington DC. Her first week in her new job puts her on a collision course with the most powerful woman in America, President Calvin.

Constance “Connie” Calvin’s first term is proving turbulent thanks to trying to juggle work and life as a widowed single mother to a 12-year-old boy. Running for re-election is imminent, and the critics are gunning for her. Worse, her famed icy cool is in danger of melting in the face of Emily’s passion, commitment, and charm.

Admitting the rising sexual tension between the women is just the start. How can they act on it while in the public glare? Giving into temptation comes with such risk. In a world that lives and dies on opinion polls, what will the country make of them?

A charged, age-gap, lesbian romance that puts the power in power couple.

Tell us about this scene:

After a cosy weekend away together in private, Emily is called back for an emergency surgery. Connie takes a few more moments away from being president to watch her badass surgeon girlfriend in action.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It was a late addition to the book - my editor suggested we see some more of Emily in her element since the trappings of the presidency are easy to imagine. Connie is charming and good with people, it's easy to see why Emily would fall for her. This was a chance to see more of why Connie is falling so hard for Emily in turn.

I just love writing badass women being super competent and their partners finding that hot!

* * *

Excerpt:

“Jill?” The rotors hadn’t stopped yet, since the plan was immediate liftoff and return to the White House.

“Ma’am?”

“I wanted to ask a favor. When you said earlier the hospital was secured, what does that do for my chances of being able to slip in unnoticed?”

“You want to visit some patients? Ma’am, we’d need clearances on the individuals concerned before doing any kind of meet ‘n’ greet.” Jill’s left hand twitched toward her earpiece, ready to make the impossible possible if she could. That generosity of spirit made Connie feel just as safe and supported as Jill’s strong frame and keen eye for every situation. 

“No, no, this would be just for me. If the hospital even allows it, that is. Is there any chance I could see Emily operate? Just five minutes, to see what it’s really like in there.”

“Let’s see what we can do, ma’am.” Jill gestured to the door and an agent outside opened it again. Connie removed her headset, pulled her baseball cap a little lower to hide her makeup free face, and watched expectantly as Jill nodded at some message Connie could not hear. The murmur of arrangements being made was easy to tune out in all the residual noise of the rotors gradually slowing.

“The OR has a gallery, it’s usually closed to anyone but medical students, but you can go in as long as you don’t turn the lights on or draw attention. Does that work? We can give you ten minutes in there, less if you’re noticed by anyone.”

“That’s plenty. Will they let you know when Emily starts the surgery? We can watch the first few minutes.”

“Just waiting for word now, ma’am. The chopper needs to get airborne again, so we’re going to step over into a secure space here, and transport you back to the White House by car. Cadillac One is on its way.” 

Connie jumped clear of the helicopter with genuine enthusiasm. After all the parts of her life that Connie had shown to Emily, she finally got to see the same in return. The prospect thrilled her more than she would have thought, especially since it was always touch-and-go whether Connie would feel a bit wobbly at the sight of blood. 

Before too long, Jill had summoned another two agents from who knew where, and they moved as a group through the door and off the roof. Connie had quite a spring in her step as they made their way through various anonymous corridors; she couldn’t ignore the thrill down her spine at the thought of seeing Emily in action. 

With minimal fuss they were shown into the darkened gallery, one wall entirely of glass. As Connie craned her neck to catch sight of the woman of the hour, Emily unknowingly obliged by entering from some side room, hands held up in front of her so that a duo of nurses could slip on a gown and some ivory-tinted latex gloves. 

To anyone else it might have been hard to tell it was Emily under those anonymous surgical clothes, but Connie felt confident now that she recognized every curve, and the twinkle in those eyes, even ten feet above. 

“Jill, if you can give me as long as the Service can allow…”

“Of course, ma’am.” Jill took up position at the door they’d come through, another agent on the opposite exit. 

That security was enough to let Connie focus fully on the scene before her. It was surprising how many people crowded around the patient, covered but vulnerable in their midst. Although she couldn’t hear the conversation, the body language and expressions suggested this team worked well together.

Images of Zach’s early surgeries threatened to push through, and Connie found herself worrying at the nail on her right thumb. She hadn’t bitten her nails since he made it through his second year, one of the endless bargains she had made with the universe, just like quitting smoking and running for office instead of bitching about those who did.

Connie didn’t know enough to know what Emily might do next, but she saw the other doctors and nurses do most of what seemed to be the preparation. Once the chest was open—and oh, what a small, fragile chest it was—the gravity around Emily seemed to shift just a little. 

She worked with deft, careful hands. Connie had been lucky enough to find out a little of what those hands were capable of, but it was another world entirely to see Emily at work. Silent commands were issued, efficient gestures were made, and the various instruments of surgery moved in and out with the precise choreography of a ballet. 

Then, just as Connie had gotten used to the activity, everything seemed to come to a halt. Machines were checked and rechecked. Emily held a conversation with one of the other doctors, their cotton masks moving only slightly over their concealed mouths. 

Of course. 

A transplant. 

The team had done everything they could, but it was all about the arriving heart. Connie squeezed her eyes shut at the thought of what must have happened for another heart—so small, so young—to have become available. There had been constant talk of transplants when Zach was small, but through sheer blind luck and great treatment, they’d moved far beyond that path. 

“Ma’am, we should think about moving out. The car is waiting in the underground parking we blocked off, but it will draw attention before long.” Jill kept her place at the door, her voice low and quiet as though to minimize disruption.

“Not much longer, Jill. I just want to see them get the new heart…”

As though her words had conjured it, a nurse entered the operating room with a sterile cooler. Connie held her breath as it was placed in position, the stillness of the OR giving way to further deliberate steps. 

Jill moved to just behind Connie, watching the action in silence. They saw Emily reach into the silver bowl that had been prepared, and lift the vibrant, beautifully ugly organ in both hands.

“Thank you,” Connie said, not tearing her eyes away until the last possible second. “We can go now.”

* * *

Presidential ©2022 by Lola Keeley

Published by Ylva Publishing

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Buy direct from Ylva Publishing

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Lola Keeley is the author of six Sapphic romance novels, and is a two-time Goldie award winner. She lives in Edinburgh, Scotland with her wife and five cats. Yes, that is too many.

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POPPY JENKINS BY CLARE ASHTON

Blurb:

Two old friends, one hot summer, a whole load of confusion.

Poppy Jenkins makes everyone smile. She’s the heart of Wells, a beautiful village in mid-Wales, leaving light and laughter in her wake. She has a doting family, an errant dog and a little sister with a nose for mischief. But she’s the only gay in the village and it’s a long time since she kissed a girl: the chance of romance in sleepy Wells is rarer than a barking sheep.

If she doesn’t think too hard, life is cosy, until a smart sports car barrels into town with the last woman Poppy wants to see behind the wheel. Beautiful Rosalyn Thorn was once Poppy’s high school BFF even though she was trouble. Then one day she abandoned Wells and Poppy without explanation. Now the highflier is back and bound to cause fresh havoc in the village and with Poppy’s heart; folk are not happy.

Wells needs to wake up to the 21st century and Rosalyn can help, but old prejudices die hard. If they can be friends it could be the chance to make everyone’s happy ever after. Couldn’t it?

Tell us about this scene:

Local sweetheart Poppy Jenkins is helped out in her cafe by old school friend, the very beautiful, Rosalyn Thorn. They possibly, might, just have a crush on each other.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love puns, buns, and double entendres, and all feature often in my writing, but this is peak cheek.

* * *

Excerpt:

They huddled between Poppy’s beloved cake cabinet and the stainless steel counter of the kitchen. The pair squeezed into the drinks corner as her mother snatched a serving of cake, and further still as Derek passed to and fro restocking the kitchen.

They stood facing each other, almost breast to boob, with Rosalyn’s ample cleavage heaving a touch higher than Poppy’s.

They were so close, Poppy could feel Rosalyn exhale on her bosom. In her heightened state, Poppy caught her breath, then to her alarm the inhalation thrust her chest forward. For a moment they touched – an exquisite, electrifying tease of nipple to nipple.

The thrill danced through her chest, sparkled through her tummy and sent the good news tingling all the way between her legs and she shuddered with excitement.

Poppy snapped her gaze away from Rosalyn’s chest and stared at the menu pretending she hadn’t noticed their fleeting caress.

“Menu,” she said. “This is a menu.”

She peeped at Rosalyn. To Poppy’s relief, her friend seemed too intent on the specials to notice Poppy’s reaction. Rosalyn’s cheeks were rosy and a sheen of perspiration sparkled on her face. The temptation to reach for Rosalyn’s cheek, stroke a finger down her neck and test the line of moisture all the way down her cleavage was insane.

“Hot.” Poppy gasped.

Oh no. Alarmed, she shot a glance to Rosalyn. “It’s hot.”

“You too,” Rosalyn said. “I mean, are you too? It’s hot by the kitchen. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” Poppy coughed. “And a hot day. The sun. Very hot.”

“And it’s going to get hotter girls,” Derek announced as he flew past with another box of tomatoes.

Oh god. Now that menu.

“This is today’s lunch menu,” Poppy said again. “Although until midday we serve cakes, drinks and breakfast sandwiches.”

“So lots of baps, buns and muffins,” Rosalyn suggested.

For a moment Poppy’s brain stalled on Rosalyn’s muffin and baps then tripped over her buns. A tumbleweed blew through her mind and sometime later the noise of the café intruded.

“That’s right, yes,” she stuttered, not knowing how long she’d been staring agog. “And the coffee machine’s here.”

Poppy squeezed by, mercifully without brushing up against Rosalyn, and leaned under the machine. Proud of her manoeuvre under trying conditions she grabbed two round cups and spun around.

“Big cups,” she said with gusto, and came to a halt in front of Rosalyn’s chest – one large round vessel per ample white breast. “I mean we use big cups,” Poppy said distraught and her eyes shot as wide as the accompanying saucers.

“Jugs?” Rosalyn said. “I mean, where are the milk jugs?”

Poppy thought she saw Rosalyn colour, but she was mid-manoeuvre averting her own gaze and didn’t dare check.

“Yes. Sugar.” Poppy pointed to both items at the end of the counter. They stared in the general direction of the sweet stuff and troublesome jugs, Poppy not daring to open her mouth again.

“You might want to turn that down,” her mother said. Emma’s head popped over the cake counter and she pointed to the steam wand which whistled at the end of the coffee machine. “It’s getting steamy in here.”

“I’m going for some air.” “I’ll check the customers.” “Good idea.”

And Poppy and Rosalyn went their separate ways.

* * *

Poppy Jenkins ©2016 by Clare Ashton

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* * *

About the Author:

Clare Ashton is an award-winning author of sapphic romances and mysteries and grew up in Mid-Wales - one of her favourite settings for novels, with sunny romance Poppy Jenkins and fiery family drama The Goodmans set on the Welsh-English borders.

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SIMPLY THE BEST BY KARIN KALLMAKER

Blurb:

Simply the Worst…Alice Cabot’s only great love is science, but a lapse in judgment has exiled the New York journalist to the glitzy Gallerias and vapid bubble-babble of Beverly Hills. The assignment to do a flattering feature series on Simply the Best and the superficial nonsense it sells threatens to crush what little is left of her spirit.

Simply the Best…Pepper Addington can’t believe she’s moved up from grunt intern to personal assistant for Helene Jolie, the celebrity socialite founder of SimplytheBest.com. Succeeding at the job she worked so hard to get is her only priority. Keep a cynical know-it-all reporter in check? She promises Helene that she can.

Simply Irresistible…Expecting nothing but games from the beach-blond surfer girl that Helene Jolie has assigned to keep an eye on her, Alice is fully prepared to resist any and all of California’s charms. Or so she thinks.

Tell us about this scene:

Journalist Alice Cabot, jaded and depressed at the current state of the world, knows better than to get involved with a woman as young and hopeful as Pepper Addington. Joining her at California beach bonfire dance party is a mistake. But she has no strength to resist.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Like Alice Cabot, I have found myself feeling like walking wounded in a world at war. Like Alice Cabot, I believed that science and compassion would bind us all together. Like several scenes in Simply the Best, I began them not knowing how Alice would find any hope. How can there be love without hope? This scene is top of my list because Alice and I found our way through despair - together - as I wrote her truth.

* * *

Excerpt:

After squeezing out between the vehicles, Pepper balanced effortlessly at the back of the car to pull off first one boot, then the other. “Pop the trunk. What are you waiting for?”

“I—”

“No way am I getting sand on these boots.”

The gleam of moonlight on Pepper’s shoulders was beguiling. “I’m thinking a shirt and tie might be overdressed.”

“What other choice do you have?”

“I’m wearing a black tee under the shirt.” She folded her jacket into the trunk and unbuttoned her cuffs.

 With a shimmy so quick Alice hardly knew what was happening Pepper’s pantyhose followed the boots into the trunk.

All the blood in her body drained into her pelvis. Her fingers fumbled with her tie clasp.

“Need help?”

“I usually have a mirror.” An inane excuse, but it was all she could come up with.

The top of Pepper’s head was level with Alice’s nose. A matter of inches separated her lips from the tendrils framing the starlight-painted forehead. The flutter of fingertips against her collar tightened her throat as Pepper pulled the tie free and coiled it neatly on top of Alice’s jacket.

They both reached for the shirt’s top button. Alice pulled her hands away, but not until after an electrical charge sent a dancing spark down both arms. She pulled the shirt out of her slacks as Pepper reached the button at her waist.

From far away, as if from inside a wonderful dream that someone else was having, she heard a low purr as Pepper ran her palms over the thin tee where it covered Alice’s ribs. “This will do just fine.”

She realized Pepper was looking up at her.

She sees right into me. It wasn’t terror that suffused her, but a jolt of raw desire unlike anything she’d ever felt before. I would let her do anything to me.

Her voice high and breathy, Pepper asked, “You got it from here?”

“Yeah.”

Her socks and shoes had no sooner joined Pepper’s in the trunk when Pepper seized her hand, and they ran across the flat sand toward the bonfire and the music. Pepper’s hair streamed out behind her, silver in the moonlight. Rolling shimmers of orange and red reflected off the tide line, and smoke drifted in the air.

The venue was surrounded with temporary fencing festooned with rainbow ribbons. Handwritten signs were staked into the sand on both sides of the entrance. So many, Alice thought. Black Lives Matter, Stop the Murders of Transwomen, Climate Change is Real, Like It Or Not We’re In This Together, Love Our Mother Earth, Silence is Complicity, AIDS is Not a Death Sentence, Say Her Name, Say His Name, Say Their Name, I Can’t Breathe. The classic Rainbow Pride flag snapped overhead in the offshore wind, flanked by a dozen more. Alice recognized the Progress, Trans, Bi, and Genderqueer flags, but some of the others were new to her.

As they rounded the stage and the rave of dancers came into sight, Alice could see the crowd was mostly twenty-somethings, like Pepper. Her own simple brushed-up spikes were bland compared to the array of neon Mohawks, masses of locs, buzz cuts, and shaved heads. She might have been the oldest person there, but all at once it didn’t matter. Pepper threw her arms in the air with whoop, and they were dancing in the throng to the beat of “Stayin’ Alive” as the circling purple and yellow stage lights lit up the DJ and speakers.

“I love Lizzo!” Pepper yelled, and Alice laughed at the marvel of old and new mixed. It didn’t matter that she’d been clubbing to the original since Pepper was in grade school. She spun in a circle as the song changed to a galloping thunder of “Born to be Wild.” Everything old could be new again, it seemed.

The bonfire flared red against the dark ocean and brilliant silver moon, turning Pepper’s skin to crimson as she swirled. The smoke of the fire, the thrum of the surf, the raucous singing of the crowd—it all filled Alice’s senses with a high that had nothing to do with the cloud of marijuana smoke or even the margarita.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this sober this late at night.

Was that why the moon had never seemed so bright? And Pepper, dear god, her heart ached just looking at her. She was something from myth—a glow of light, her skirt a whirl of purple against the golden sand, on her tiptoes reaching toward the stars, hips rocking, and shoulders swaying.

The heartbeat of the twisting flames matched the rise and fall of the shifting crowd. They were a collective mass of humans every color of the rainbow, Alice thought, thriving and healing in common experience. No different than millions of women in pink pussy hats covering miles of streets or a room full of engineers cheering and weeping as Curiosity touched Mars’ surface.

Dance together, grieve together, rise up together. She would not think of helicopters and crushed flowers, not when she was surrounded by people who celebrated life in spite of the pain in the world.

They danced and lifted each other up.

As the minutes passed and the songs changed, she willed herself to accept that, right now, it was enough to breathe, move, and watch Pepper dance. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to go back to falling into the depths of another bottle of whiskey.

“People like us, we’ve gotta stick together,” Pepper was singing. Alice realized she was singing too, fists in the air, feeling the anthem of misfits all the way into her bones.

Her shirt was drenched by the time she cheered and whooped as a lip sync drag queen mic dropped with “Bitch, I’m Beyoncé.” Her energy level drooped, but then Billy Porter made it sound so easy to love yourself that she lost herself in the music again.

Pepper’s dress was a purple skin across the swells of her breasts, and the damp waist had loosened to show the hollow at the small of her back. I’m admiring her because she’s art, Alice told herself, even as she envisioned using her teeth to lower the zipper that was the only apparent device that kept the dress in place.

She was so lost in her fantasy that she missed what Pepper shouted.

She leaned closer, one hand to her ear.

“Having fun?”

She answered truthfully, “I can do this all night.”

“So can I!” Pepper threw her arms in the air with delight and then her arms were around Alice’s neck, and she kissed Alice, laughing. Then not laughing.

Fireworks exploded across Alice’s skin with sparkles of gold and green behind her eyes. The heat of Pepper’s back was under Alice’s palms. Hunger took over, and Alice pulled Pepper hard against her, tasting her mouth and inhaling the smell of her hair and skin. Too late, much too late to think of a way to survive this kiss. It was beyond her to stop.

Maybe, she told herself, they could have tonight. 

Maybe it would only burn her.

* * *

Simply the Best ©2021 by Karin Kallmaker

Published by Bella Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bella Books

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Karin Kallmaker has been writing women loving other women stories for decades. She's adored ice cream for even longer than that. Also coffee. And Tim Tams.

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THE FIREWORKS BY NICOLE PYLAND

Blurb:

Aria Bancroft had been in love exactly one time. It didn’t go well, and ever since, she’s been floundering. Choosing sex over relationships and working as a freelance editor more to have something to do than anything else, worked for a time. But as her friends begin to couple off with their new girlfriends, Aria begins to wonder if she can ever feel that kind of love again.

London Carlson met a girl in high school and fell in love. After moving away, she tried to find that kind of connection with other women, but it was never the same. London focused on her friendships instead, and with two of those friends, she decided to open a bakery that happened to be in the same city where that long-lost love lived now.

It was July 4th, and Aria had just gotten back from Europe. She didn’t want to go to the annual fireworks display downtown, but her friends wouldn’t let her off the hook. Seeing the woman she’d only known as a teenager, shook Aria to her core, and she couldn’t believe the girl she’d once thought to be the love of her young life was standing right in front of her. Now that they’re both adults, can they put their past behind them and search for what could still be possible?

Tell us about this scene:

In this scene, Aria and London run into one another after not seeing each other since high school. They’re first loves and maybe forever loves, and we join them at a 4th of July fireworks event catching up.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

When I first started writing the Holiday Series, I knew Aria would be a bit of a mystery in the first two books. I wanted even her best friends not to have the full story, so that when we get to Aria’s book (book 3), we would all get it at the same time. Aria is someone who lost her first love when she was a teenager when London, due to her situation, couldn’t be who she was just yet. Being sixteen and in the closet, with a dad who would not get it, was just too hard for London then. I wanted them to meet years later with actual fireworks behind them as if those fireworks were trying to tell them something. This scene is when they finally reconnect, and it was one of the hardest I’ve written because I wanted them to say everything and yet nothing at the same time, and to still find promise in their reconnection that would lead them to the forever love they both deserved.

* * *

Excerpt:

“I still think about that day, you know?” Aria said, taking a drink of her beer.

“Which one?”

“All of them, I guess, but I meant the day we met. You looked so lost and, I don’t know, so just okay with it at the same time.”

“Well, when you’ve lived in five states and three countries by the time you’re fifteen, that happens. You get to the point where it’s just not worth it to get to know people anymore because you won’t be around long enough anyway,” London explained.

“We never really talked about you moving so much back then,” Aria noted.

“We did. It was just hard for me to talk about, so you always gave me an out,” London reminded her.

“I guess,” Aria said. 

“I hated it, but I wasn’t mad at my dad for it. He did the best he could,” London added.

“So, what have you been up to?” Aria asked.

“Since I turned sixteen?” she asked.

“I was there when you turned sixteen,” Aria said with her soft blue eyes that, to London, were still just as soft.

She was still beautiful. If anything, growing up had been even kinder to Aria than her teenage years had been. She was more beautiful now. She’d always had this quiet confidence about her that London had loved back then, and it felt like it was still there, but there was something different about it, too. Maybe there wasn’t as much of it anymore. London wondered what might have taken it away over the years. 

“I remember,” London said, looking down.

“Hey, I didn’t mean that to make you feel bad,” Aria said.

“I know.” London sighed and finished an onion ring. “We moved two more times while I was in high school. I graduated from a school in Kentucky. Then, I decided culinary school was a better fit for me than traditional college, so I went that route, focused on pastry, and ended up working at a French restaurant with a great pastry chef. My friends, who you just met – I met them there, too, but back then, they talked more about food than sex.” She laughed a little. 

“Were they not having any?” Aria asked, smiling.

“One of them was having it with me,” London replied. “Think I should be offended?” she joked.

Aria didn’t say anything. 

“We were dating,” London explained. “Carmen and I were together.”

“So, I was right to assume that you’re not just hanging out with two… what I assume are lesbians, but I don’t like labeling people until they label themselves. You’re…”

“They’re both gay, yes,” she said finally. “And so am I.”

Aria nodded. 

“I didn’t know back then,” London continued. “I did… I mean, I think–”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Aria told her. “We were kids. What do any kids really know about themselves?”

“You always seemed to know who you were,” London replied.

“I did then, I think. I had a good idea, at least.”

“Had?”

“I’m working on it,” Aria said, giving London a smile. “So, pastry chef?” she asked, changing the topic.

“I worked my way up. Eventually, I became the pastry chef at another restaurant in town. My friends, Mariah and Carmen, stayed at the old one for a while. Then, we all got together once and started talking about maybe a place of our own one day.”

“A restaurant?”

“A bakery,” London said, smiling. 

“You guys want to have a bakery?”

“We have one,” London replied. “It’s not open yet, but we have the building, and we’re opening soon.”

“That’s awesome, Lo. Where is it?”

“Here,” London said. “Downtown, technically. We all worked about three counties over from here. Then, Mariah moved here a few years ago when her family needed some help. Carmen moved here after that because Mariah found her a job near the one she’d gotten for herself. I was still living over there and working as a pastry chef. Once we got the funds together, they found the building we’re now leasing. I just moved here.”

Aria nodded again.

“You nod a lot now,” London teased.

“Do I?” Aria asked, laughing.

“Yes. Is that something you’ve picked up in adulthood?”

“I guess,” Aria said, nodding rapidly.

London laughed and took another drink of the beer she didn’t really like but felt like she needed right now.

“What have you been doing?” she asked Aria. “You said earlier that I was still a senior when you went to college.”

“I ended up graduating a year early,” Aria replied.

“You always were smart,” London commented.

“I just had a bunch of credits.” Aria shrugged.

“Aria, you were crazy smart. You took calculus as a sophomore.”

“My junior year, after you were gone, I kind of spun out a little,” she said. “Nothing major. I wasn’t allowed to have an actual teenage rebellion. My mother would’ve just killed me, so it wasn’t worth it. I kind of went a different way with my rebellion, though.”

“Different way?” London asked.

“Yeah. I stopped spending time with my friends, didn’t date, and just focused on school. I just wanted out of there as soon as I could.”

“Why?”

Aria looked at her seriously. 

“You know why, Lo,” she replied. 

Here she was. London was staring at the girl she’d met that first day at a new school and hadn’t ever really stopped thinking about since. Somehow, even things that shouldn’t remind London of Aria, did. Like, whenever she rolled out croissants, she thought of Aria. London hadn’t ever shared a croissant with Aria. They’d never really baked together. Cooked together a little, yes, but they hadn’t baked. There was no reason she should think of a girl she spent less than a year with in high school, but she did. 

She’d also, unfortunately, thought of her on every date she’d ever gone on. She’d been with Carmen for about a year. Back then, they’d talked about moving in together and getting engaged one day, and London still thought of Aria sometimes when they walked down a street or sat next to each other on a couch and watched a movie. And the worst was when she thought of Aria Bancroft when they were making love. At first, it would be a fleeting thought that would settle in her stomach, but once it was there, it was hard to get rid of it and focus. 

No woman deserved that, but she wasn’t sure how to stop it. Even after Carmen, London hadn’t been able to just be with another woman without thinking of Aria’s blue eyes, soft hair and even softer skin, the freckles that had dotted her nose when spring showed itself through winter, and the way she laughed when London said something funny while they stood at their lockers and Aria braided London’s hair in the same style she wore that day. 

Aria Bancroft had been London’s first love, and she hadn’t had the courage to tell her back then. She hadn’t been ready to be herself yet. Aria had always been herself, and now London was staring at her as they sat on Aria’s trunk, and all she could think about was that day and what she’d done. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

“It was a long time ago,” Aria deflected, trying to make light of it, but London could see that it still hurt her. 

“Aria, I–”

“Lo, it’s not worth it.”

“I think it is,” she said. 

* * *

The Fireworks ©2022 by Nicole Pyland

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Nicole Pyland is a bestselling author of sapphic romance novels, including All the Love Songs, and series like Chicago, San Francisco, Tahoe, Sports, Boston, and Holiday. Since 2017, she’s published over 40 novels (not including her What Happened After shorts), and more books are on their way!

Sign up here for Nicole Pyland ’s author newsletter.

MISS YOU BY HILDRED BILLINGS

Blurb:

Ten years ago Saya escaped a forced marriage in the house of Hara, granting herself the freedom to follow her will. And for ten years she has been content to live a life of near poverty and menial labor in exchange for being the master of her own destiny. That was until she met Jun, the hotel heiress who stole her heart and taught her what love and protection could feel like.

Now Saya finds herself torn between two worlds: her girlfriend’s reality, comprised of formalities and endless wealth, and her own head, which pulls her to the isolation of the Japanese countryside. Jun wants her to settle in the city, yet Saya is not sure she can live with the pressures to conform to high society.

In the midst of this dilemma is the one thing Saya wants more than anything else – a divorce from the man who tried to ruin her life. But the leash connecting her to the Haras runs long, and Saya soon finds that her heart’s call of “Aitai,” or “I want to see you,” not only echoes for Jun when they are apart, but for the people who forced her to become the woman she is today.

Tell us about this scene:

This the penultimate scene of the story, when Jun and Saya are forced to finally confront the differences that truly threaten to keep them apart. Saya has just discovered that Jun's wealthy uncle has conspired to pay for a much-needed divorce that Saya wanted to earn on her own - and that spells DRAMA.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Few scenes stay in my head long after I've written them. In fact, this story came out 10 years ago, when I actually think some of my writing was the strongest. I still love the atmosphere of a rainy, thundering village and one person chasing after the other to prove their worth. It plays a like a movie scene in my head!

* * *

Excerpt:

Darkness covered the village, and Saya was forced to seek shelter. The only place she could go was the eaves behind a shed, where she slipped down to the ground, wrapped her arms around her knees, and cried.

The village was cursed. Every time Saya gained ground in becoming her own, free woman, something happened in that village to put her back in her place. 

Her tears matched the rainfall as it beat against the eaves. In the background, thunder rolled, and the occasional flash of lightning lit up the gray sky. It made Saya feel smaller than she did the day she married Ken’ichi and moved into the Hara house, surrounded by strangers who regarded her with resentment. No matter where she went, no one was truly on her side. 

Although her eyes were stained in tears, Saya looked up and saw a figure standing before her. The next flash of lightning illuminated Jun’s figure as she bent down, large umbrella shielding them both.

“Thank God I found you,” she said, wiping the rain and tears from Saya’s face. “I’ve looked all over for you!”

Saya buried her head in her arms, willing Jun to go away. She never felt so ashamed as she did then.

“Please, listen to me.” Jun stroked Saya’s hair, running her fingers through the wet, matted strands plastered against her girlfriend’s face. “I had no idea he was actually going to do that. I thought I had talked him out of it long ago. I told him that…”

“Shut up,” Saya said, sputtering on rain. Her clothes stuck to her skin as she pushed her legs out and wiped her face. “Me, me, me. Is that all you can say?”

Jun sat back. “What do you mean?”

The rain continued to fall off the roof and pat onto the umbrella. “That’s how your family is. Consumed with yourselves. Your money. You think you can solve everything by throwing cash at it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m sick of it!” Saya shoved her away, sending Jun back onto her ass as the umbrella shook water onto them both. “Sick of your fucking money! Always making me feel…”

Jun did not move. “Making you feel what?”

Saya buried her face again. “Worthless.”

“No,” Jun said, the umbrella falling aside as she put one hand on Saya’s shoulder. “No, you’re not worthless!”

“Fine, then! I’m a stupid inconvenience your family had to pay to fix! How fucking dare I be unable to get a divorce on my own! Because it makes you look so bad!”

“Saya!”

No matter how many times Jun called her name so desperately, it could not penetrate the shell Saya had built around her heart over the years. People want to use me. Her mother tried to barter her off for her own gain. People want to hurt me. Ken’ichi hurt her, in every way he could dream up. People want to whittle me down. The matriarch found fancy in using Saya as a whipping post. People want to treat me like a child. Jun, even if she didn’t know it.

“You don’t get it,” she said. “You’ve never gotten it. All I’ve ever wanted was to prove to myself that I can live my life. The money, the divorce… I had to do it on my own. If I couldn’t do it for myself, then what do I have?”

Jun took her by the wrist, locking their fingers together – like the night before, when they made love, and Saya could never imagine being this angry at this woman. “Your future.”

“And my future is tied to your uncle now. Instead of fighting the Haras, I’ll be spending my life trying to pay your uncle back.”

“No, you don’t have to pay him back.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because I will.”

Saya shook her head, finally moved by that searing determination on Jun’s visage. “No! How can you say that?” Stop spending your money on me!

Their hands held fast together, and although the thunder rolled closer, and the rain began to fall sideways, Jun did not falter. “He would never intend for you to pay him back. But if it bothers you that much, I will do it. I will find a way to make you feel better. He would never, ever purposely put you into a corner and make you indebted to him.”

“How do you know that? Why else would he do such a thing?”

Jun furrowed her brows. “For me. Because he wants me to be happy. And being with you makes me happier than I ever thought possible.”

Saya choked on a sob.

“I love you. I love you so much that the thought of what these awful people have done to you – making you think that you’re not worthy of being taken care of – makes me so sick that I wish there were a way to make karma fall upon them like fire. But the world doesn’t work that way, so all I can do is make you happy. I want to fill your life with everything you never had. If that includes buying you something or paying for a trip to wherever you want to go, then I don’t care. Spending that money to help make you happy makes me happy too. I want you to have every opportunity that you deserve.”

When her words dissipated, so did the rain, the thunder, and the faraway lightning. Saya unhooked her hand from Jun’s and pushed it through her wet hair. “You sound like a mom.”

“I may be older than you, but I’m not that much older.”

Saya responded the only way she could: she laughed.

“Come on,” Jun said, standing up. “You shouldn’t let those people be the ones who are the happiest today. This was all about you, and you should be showing them how to be happy.”

A kiss to the forehead later, Jun had Saya back in her arms.

* * *

Miss You ©2013 by Hildred Billings

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Cynthia Dane is a billionaire romance author. Hildred Billings is a sapphic romance author. With their powers combined... well, you get the idea. Also, the rumor mill suggests they're never in the same room at the same time. (Or is it all the time?)

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HIGHLAND FLING BY ANNA LARNER

Blurb:

Eve Eddison describes her ideal woman to her best friend, Roxanne, over pints in their local pub a few days before she travels to the Scottish Highlands. There she falls head over heels for an enigmatic local, Moira Burns, and the usually reticent Eve wants more than a holiday romance. Forestry officer Moira Burns has no intention of letting go—either of past pain or for present pleasure. If that means she misses out on her chance at happiness, so be it. Convinced Eve is headed for heartbreak, Roxanne advises her to let Moira go…but has Eve found her ideal woman at last?

Tell us about this scene:

In this excerpt, set in a university bedroom, the inexperienced eighteen year old, Moira Burns, confronts that which she fears and desperately desires - the opportunity to experience her 'first time' with the alluring Iris Campbell. This relationship shapes the complicated woman she becomes and hints at the emotional scars that Eve Eddison is determined to heal.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

There is something very special about the first time you fall in love. And there is nothing more powerful than trusting in that person enough to share your heart and your body with them. I bring all these feelings to the reader in this my favorite scene which is tenderly written but also charged with sexual tension and fraught with uncertainty and emotional risk.

I love the characters of Moira Burns and Iris Campbell who perfectly balance inexperience with experience and insecurity with confidence.

I also love the sentiment that sex is a natural act and something not to fear or feel ashamed about or to overthink. I hope the reader takes comfort and pleasure from this scene and as a writer that is what always matters most to me.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Let’s go, yes?” Iris picked up her bag.

“Don’t you girls do anything we wouldn’t do,” John said, with a smirk.

Iris winked back at John.

“He’s really creepy sometimes,” Moira said, just out of earshot of John.

“Oh, he’s harmless, Moira.”

“He’s not harmless, Iris. What if he says something to someone else, outside the group?”

“So what if he does?”

“It’s private.” Moira stopped walking. She could feel her cheeks burning.

“Moira?”

“Whatever’s going on with us.” Moira stammered slightly as she spoke. She felt her heart ache. “It’s between us, no one else.”

“But no one really cares, Moira, don’t worry.”

“I care.” With this she carried on walking, silent and withdrawn.

“Well, this is me.” Iris sighed and leant against the corridor wall as she looked for her keys to her room.

“I have your notebook, songbook, I mean.” Moira reached into her pocket. “You left it by the river this afternoon. I didn’t want to mention it in front of the boys. You didn’t seem to want to sing.”

“No, I want to…” Iris looked into Moira’s eyes. “Go to bed.”

In her angry state, Moira took this literally. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned away to leave.

“Did you read my poem?”

Moira couldn’t decide whether she should tell the truth.

Iris said softly, “I left it for you to read.”

With her back turned away from Iris, Moira spoke quietly. “It seemed quite intense, the darkness bit.”

Iris gently turned Moira around to face her. “The deep sweet darkness,” she corrected.

Moira nodded, only to be startled by two laughing students crashing down the corridor.

Iris reached for Moira’s hand and, opening her door, she led Moira into her room. She didn’t turn on the light. “The deep sweet darkness.”

“You’re being weird,” Moira said, folding her arms against her chest. “You’re making me feel nervous.”

“I’m sorry.” Iris sat on her bed.

Moira stood leaning against the door. Iris’s curtains were open, illuminating the room with a street light glow. Iris’s room was colourful, soulful, and welcoming; it smelt of sandalwood incense. A tissue-thin amber cloth was thrown over the table lamp by her bed. An SNP poster declared Iris’s allegiance to Scottish independence and a CND poster declared her protest against war. An embroidered banner with a labrys at its centre hung next to her bed. Gaelic songbooks were strewn on the floor. Iris’s room embodied Iris: it spoke of nature, politics, patriotism, passion, and performance.

Iris kicked off her sandals and lay down.

Moira suppressed a strong urge to lie next to her. Instead she walked across to the seat by the study table opposite Iris and sat down. She mumbled into her lap, “Am I your Highlander?”

Without speaking, Iris stood. She leant past Moira and lit a single candle fixed onto a white porcelain saucer on the table. She then softly closed her curtains and turned to face Moira.

Moira watched Iris take a long, deep breath, then effortlessly unclip the straps of her dungarees and let them fall to her feet. Iris carefully stepped out of them.

“Iris?” Moira’s mouth was dry and her heart was pounding. Moira could feel her heartbeat choking her.

Iris pulled off her jumper and let it fall to the ground.

“Iris? What are you doing?” Moira held the edges of the chair.

Iris took another deep breath and stepped out of her underwear. She stood naked in front of Moira, just out of reach.

Moira’s heart and head hurt in a crushing ache.

“Do you want to be?” Iris quietly asked. “Do you want to be my Highlander?”

Moira looked at Iris, at her serious face flushed, the prickling rash of pink on her neck and collarbone betraying the depth of the emotion Iris was feeling. Moira looked at Iris’s breasts, her nipples erect, tender. She followed the line from Iris’s breastbone, past the ripples of ribcage, down to Iris’s navel.

Moira gasped—“I’m sorry, I can’t, I’m so sorry,”—and rushed out of the room. She got as far as the end of the corridor and stopped.

The image of Iris standing rejected and naked upset Moira. She wanted more than anything to hold Iris, feel her close, and kiss her. Moira’s body ached for Iris, each step away from her physically hurt, and with the kind of compulsion that overwhelms reason, Moira turned around and knocked on Iris’s door. The door opened. Iris had put on her dressing gown; a newly lit cigarette burnt at her fingertip. She let Moira back in.

“I couldn’t leave, I’m sorry, Iris. I couldn’t leave you.” Moira leant against the closed door.

Iris raised her hand to Moira’s face, resting her palm against Moira’s cheek.

“Be with me,” Iris whispered into Moira’s ear. Taking Moira’s hand, Iris led her to her bed and took a long last drag on her cigarette.

Moira watched the cigarette tip embers burn and glow, as Iris inhaled and exhaled.

Iris extinguished the cigarette against the porcelain saucer and blew out the candle.

“Have you done this before?” Moira spoke hesitantly into the darkness. “Been with a woman, I mean.” Moira felt Iris’s finger cover her lips.

“Shh, what does it matter about what we’ve done in the past? What matters is what we do now, Moira.”

“I haven’t though, I haven’t been with anyone.” Moira could feel herself shaking.

“It’s not important.” Iris lifted Moira’s jumper over her head, letting it fall on the floor. “How does the sun know how to shine, Moira?”

“I don’t know.” Moira could hardly speak.

Iris unbuttoned and unzipped Moira’s trousers and eased them down. Moira stepped out of them.

“How does the wind know how to blow?” Iris reached around Moira’s back, unclipping her bra, releasing it away from Moira.

“Oh my God.” Moira half breathed, half spoke her words.

“How does the rain know how to fall?”

“It just falls, it just falls,” Moira repeated towards Iris.

Iris eased Moira’s underwear down.

“You’ll know what to do, Moira.”

Allowing her own robe to fall, Iris held Moira close to her. “I know you will.”

* * *

Highland Fling ©2017 by Anna Larner

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

Amazon

Other Stores

About the Author:

Anna Larner writes passionate and captivating lesbian romance stories which are published by Bold Strokes Books. Anna is also a poet and her poems are published with the University of Leicester’s Centre for New Writing and Paradise Press (LGBTQ+ independent printing press).

THE ORIGINS OF HEARTBREAK BY CARA MALONE

Blurb:

Alex McHenry’s world stood still the day her father passed.

She was 19, studying to be an art teacher, and living happily like any other college student. Then abruptly, her life was reduced to funeral arrangements, depression, therapy, and the responsibility of caring for her mother, who retreated to the couch to take solace in the artificially cheerful hosts on the Home Shopping Network.

After more than a year of living frozen in the moment of her father’s death, Alex decides to take the first steps out of her grief. She enrolls in a paramedic program and during one of her first classes, she meets Megan Callahan, a pretty but aloof medical student who comes crashing into her life at the most unexpected moment.

It’s not long before Alex discovers that Megan has her own skeletons in the proverbial closet, and when a bacterial outbreak forces them together, they must both decide whether to confront their demons together, or continue to live in limbo.

Can Alex and Megan work together to mend their broken hearts? Or will they turn away in fear?

Tell us about this scene:

A paramedic and a doctor in training meet and fall for each other in the most unlikely of places - an autopsy room!

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

With two parents in the medical field, I've always been interested in medicine - if I had any aptitude for chemistry at all, I might have gone to medical school, but my best subject has always been English. Lucky for me, that opened the possibility of writing about doctors instead of being one, and thus the Lakeside Hospital series was conceived.

I knew from the start that I wanted to include an autopsy scene because I actually got to observe one when I was job shadowing in high school. Everyone was so concerned that I was going to faint, puke, lose my marbles or SOMETHING, so I was all the more determined to be an unflinching badass throughout the procedure. But it got me thinking - what if the badass has a chink in her armor?

And what if Princess Charming is there to catch her when she falls apart?

* * *

Excerpt:

The door to the autopsy suite opened, but instead of the medical examiner, another large group entered. None of the newcomers were wearing white coats—instead they all wore blue polo shirts with Evanston Community College embroidered over their pockets—and Megan noticed that a few of them looked pale and skittish.

“Paramedic students,” Chloe said, whispering like it was a secret. “I hear they bring them to an autopsy before they go into the field so that if they’re going to pass out or vomit, they do it here instead of during a real case.”

“Megan might beat them to it,” Ivy said, never passing up an opportunity to needle her.

“I’m fine,” Megan said.

Megan watched the EMTs come into the room. They were looking all around and noticing the mortuary refrigerators along one wall. A few of them seemed to be actively avoiding them, looking anywhere but the refrigerators and the autopsy table, and Megan wondered which one of them would be the first to hit the floor when the autopsy got started.

One girl had an air of stoicism about her that was intriguing to Megan. She didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the group, tall, thin but not too skinny, with long, chestnut-colored hair, a button nose, and a youthful face. She didn’t look like the type of person who could handle the responsibilities of being a paramedic with her small frame. Then again, a lot of people surprised Megan—she never would have dreamed that someone as tiny and cute as Ivy could contain so much ire.

Realizing that she’d been staring at the paramedic for far too long, Megan turned away. The headache she’d woken up with had turned from sharp and nauseating to dull and throbbing, and the room was beginning to heat up with all of the people standing around her.

When the Medical Examiner finally arrived, trailed by two assistants in surgical scrubs, the conversation in the room trailed off. He introduced himself as Dr. Markovich while his assistants went to the mortuary refrigerators and pulled out a long steel rack on top of which lay the body.

“The decedent is a fifty-four-year-old male who was found in the midst of a grand mal seizure in his office two days ago,” Dr. Markovich was saying. “By the time the paramedics arrived, he had become unresponsive and despite efforts to resuscitate, he was dead shortly after arrival in the ER.”

The two assistants wheeled the gurney over to the table where everyone was gathered, and the difference between the two groups of observers became obvious. Everyone in a white coat leaned in, fighting for a place closest to the table, and everyone in an Evanston Community College polo took a step back.

“If anyone is feeling queasy at any point during the autopsy, there’s a bench just outside the ambulance bay where you can get some fresh air. Please resist the urge to vomit in the autopsy suite,” he cautioned with a tired expression, as if he was reciting this message for the hundredth time. “There’s always one.”

The cute paramedic with the chestnut hair leaned forward, looking more interested than most of the others in her class. She wound up right behind Megan, looking over her shoulder as the assistants moved the body onto the autopsy table. Dr. Markovich picked up a scalpel from the instrument tray and began, narrating his actions for the benefit of the students.

Megan swayed once on her feet.

Strange.

She felt a little lightheaded, but this headache was nothing she hadn’t pushed through before. She tried to concentrate on the autopsy, but the moment Dr. Markovich’s scalpel breached the skin, everything went dark.

***

Megan opened her eyes to see the tall, pretty paramedic from earlier looking down at her. For just a moment, she noticed the stunning, steel gray of her eyes.

Then she looked past the girl and saw that everyone in the room was looking at her—looking down at her. She was on the floor, in the paramedic’s lap to be exact. She scrambled away from the girl, standing up and muttering an explanation. “I had a migraine earlier. It wasn’t the autopsy. I’m sorry.”

“Amateur,” Ivy said under her breath.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get some fresh air?” Chloe asked, attempting to brush Megan’s hair off her damp temples. “You look peaked.”

“Yeah, okay,” Megan said, and when Chloe tried to follow her, she added, “I’ll be fine. You stay.”

“As I said earlier, there’s always one,” she heard Dr. Markovich say to the group with a self-satisfied smirk. “Are we ready to continue?”

There was a door beside the ambulance bay and Megan slipped as quietly as possible through it. Outside, she found the bench Dr. Markovich had mentioned. She sat down and took a deep breath, letting the cool autumn air fill her lungs and appreciating the breeze on her warm cheeks. The door opened again, and Megan was surprised to see the poor EMT she’d fallen on coming outside.

“Are you okay?” they asked each other in unison, and Megan smiled.

“I didn’t crack your head on the way down, did I?”

“No,” the girl said. “I have cat-like reflexes and I jumped out of the way just in time. You actually hit the ground like a bowling ball. I just scooped you up in my arms after the fact so you’d think I was the type of person who lets strangers collapse on them.”

“And what type of person is that?” Megan asked. “Unlucky?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a bottle of water. “Here. I’m Alex, by the way.”

* * *

The Origins of Heartbreak ©2017 by Cara Malone

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Cara Malone writes sapphic fiction with drama, depth and plenty of heat, including the bestselling Lakeside Hospital series. These books are for you if you're a fan of contemporary romance, you love strong women who aren't afraid to be vulnerable, and you enjoy family sagas. Come explore the Caraverse!

Sign up here for Cara Malone ’s author newsletter.

IRREGULAR HEARTBEAT BY CHRIS ZETT

Blurb:

When drummer Diana Petrell leaves her rock-star life to return to ER medicine, she won’t let anything stop her—not even falling for aloof mentor, Dr. Emily Barnes.

Emily isn’t happy having to babysit an intriguing resident with a ten-year gap in her résumé.

But every time they work together, it’s not just their patients’ heartbeat that gets a little irregular. Soon, the once-clear lines between work and personal life begin to blur.

What happens when Diana’s secret past threatens their careers?

Tell us about this scene:

Reserved ER physician Emily Barnes doesn't usually allow her emotion close to the surface, except when she's out dancing with her best friend, Jen. She never expected to meet a ghost from her past nor anyone from her workplace.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is one of the first scenes I had in mind when I started writing the novel—directly after a sexy beach scene that has been rewritten so much I barely recognize it anymore. I loved to write the emotional rollercoaster of a main character who until then presented as mostly aloof, or even a little ice-queen-ish to the other main characters and the readers.The scene taught me a lot as a writer but it also helped to fulfill a wish most writer's share: write what you want to read yourself.

* * *

Excerpt:

The music at the club was deafening, and the bass vibrated in her belly, calling her body to synchronize with the beat. Emily closed her eyes and relaxed into the rhythmic movement of her feet and hips. She became one with the music, swaying, flowing in the current. Other people were rocks in the stream, guiding the flow, but never stopping it. 

When the music slowed, she made her way to the bar, desperate for a drink. She nearly bumped into Jen, her best friend, who stared at a dark-haired woman standing with her back to them.

Emily tried to get a good look, but other women kept getting in her line of sight.

“Who’s that?” Emily spoke directly into Jen’s ear to avoid shouting.

“Dee Dragon. Isn’t it great to see her here?” Jen smiled widely.

“Am I supposed to know her?” Emily could never remember the names of all the musicians Jen talked about as a freelance music journalist.

“You know Eos, the band?” Jen bounced on her toes. “She was their drummer. About a year ago, the band separated, and she disappeared. There are a million rumors: drugs, alcohol, drugs, brain tumor, drugs… Maybe I can get an interview.” 

The crowd thinned, and Emily could get her first good look at Dee Dragon. She was tall, and her brown, wavy hair hung just below her shoulder. Her most striking feature was a large tattoo that covered most of what Emily could see of her back. An emerald-green dragon with open wings looked directly at her and spewed fire. Brilliant red flames sneaked over her left shoulder to her arm and wound around her biceps. The scaly tail mirrored the path of the flames on the right side.

Emily’s heart rate escalated, and she had trouble breathing. This couldn’t be right. It must be a coincidence.

Dee Dragon couldn’t be the woman who had been haunting her dreams for nearly fifteen years. But every detail from that one night was imprinted into her memory. The hair was different now, longer, the shoulders maybe a bit wider, and the muscles even more defined. Yet, the tattoo was the same.

“I met her before.” Why did you say that? Her stomach clenched.

“What? Dee Dragon? You just told me that you don’t even know who she is. Where?” Jen was nearly jumping up and down.

“The beach.” The less she said, the better.

Jen gave her patented I-know-you’ll-tell-it-all stare. “What beach?”

Emily looked away. “Remember the beach party you dragged me to at the end of college? I listened to the drumming circle all evening. I saw her playing.” 

“Are you sure? I can use this to chat her up.” Jen took Emily’s hand. “Let’s talk to her.”

“No.” Emily pulled back. “I can’t. I have to go. To the restroom.”

Before Jen could protest, Emily hastened in the opposite direction, away from the bar and Dee Dragon and her mesmerizing tattoo. 

In the bathroom, she washed her hands and pressed the cool fingers to her temples, careful not to smudge the carefully applied makeup. The eyes staring back at her from the mirror seemed unnaturally large in her pale face. Her upper lip trembled. She was hyperventilating and grabbed the sink to hold on. Deliberately, she slowed her breathing. Passing out would be really embarrassing. Someone would call 911, and the paramedics would bring her into her own emergency room.

What would her colleagues say if they saw the usually calm and composed Dr. Barnes reduced to a shivering mess? She snorted, not sure if she already qualified as hysterical or merely panicking.

She had never met the woman and couldn’t imagine talking to her. What would she say? Nice to meet you, you’ve been the woman of my dreams for years. Or hello, you are even more beautiful than in my masturbation fantasies.

Emily released the death grip and deliberately stretched her fingers. She would not go out there to watch her dream morph into a distorted version of her fantasies. Instead, she would leave and let Jen chat her up on her own.

On her way to the door, she had to pass the bar, so she hid behind a broad-shouldered woman, trying not to look at Jen and Dee. It was like passing an accident on the highway. She decelerated and couldn’t keep her gaze off them.

Dee’s back was turned toward Emily, and the dragon caught her attention again.

With all her strength, she turned her head away.

Just as she had made it past them, a woman carrying a pitcher of beer and several glasses appeared out of nowhere.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion: A hard shoulder stopped Emily in her tracks. Beer flew out of the pitcher in a golden arch.

Emily jumped back and hit another rock-solid body.

“Watch it!”

Emily raised her hands, palms facing outward. “I’m sorry.”

She had to get out. Fast.

Before she could flee, Jen grabbed her hand and yanked Emily over.

“Are you okay?” Jen looked her up and down.

Apart from a few drops of beer on her shirt, her dry tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth, and a racing heart, she was fine. Unable to speak, Emily nodded.

Jen stepped to the side and gestured toward the woman she had been talking to. “Dee, this is the friend I told you about, Emily Barnes. Emily, this is Dee Dragon.”

Emily forced herself to face Dee. Her gaze locked on hazel eyes that seemed as wide as her own.

Jen’s voice dimmed to a distant murmur, and Emily’s vision blurred.

She couldn’t speak; she couldn’t breathe. Don’t faint! She bit hard on the inside of her cheek, and the pain helped her to focus.

This was literally the woman of her dreams. And she already knew her. 

She’d last seen her at work yesterday.

* * *

Irregular Heartbeat ©2018 by Chris Zett

Published by Ylva Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Ylva Publishing

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

GCLS Writing Academy graduate Chris Zett lives near Berlin, Germany. TV inspired her to study medicine. Surprisingly, the workplace romance trope turned out to be true. She uses any opportunity to escape the routine by reading sapphic novels, traveling with her wife or writing medical romance.

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THE LAST PLACE YOU LOOK BY AURORA REY

Blurb:

Julia Pierce can think of nothing more humiliating than her wife of eight years leaving her for her personal trainer. Oh, wait. She can. Without a career or a place to go when that exact thing happens, she’s forced to move home and take a job at her family’s winery.

Taylor Winslow has been in love with Julia since tenth grade. Not the desperate, pining sort, but the kind that never really went away. When Julia reappears, Taylor has a chance to finally win her heart. The only problem? Julia’s hell-bent on making up for lost time by dating every eligible lesbian in town.

Signing on as Julia’s wingman may land Taylor in the friend zone for good, but it’s a gamble she’s willing to take. With Taylor in her corner, will Julia find love, and herself, where she least expects it?

Tell us about this scene:

After yet another disastrous date, Julia lands at Taylor's to debrief and decompress.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love the sizzle of two characters who have amazing chemistry but haven’t acted on it yet. The Last Place You Look is a slow burn, friends-to-lovers story and packs lots of pent-up longing and potential. Beyond that, Taylor is probably the closest I’ve come to writing my real-life fantasy love interest, so yeah. Borrowing a T-shirt and sharing a bed? Yes, please.

* * *

Excerpt:

One more?” Julia eyed her hopefully.

“Your wish is my command.” Taylor clicked the Keep Watching button.

Julia nuzzled deeper into the sofa and took a sip of her wine. “I know this isn’t a date, but this is the best date.”

Taylor couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe you’re going on the wrong kind of dates.”

Julia eyed her with sarcasm. “You think?”

“Remind me why you’re doing this again?” She knew, but she

 wanted Julia to say it out loud, own really wanting it.

Julia sat up, nearly sloshing her wine over the edge of the glass. “I’m proving a point.”

“To whom, exactly?”

She frowned. “Myself.”

“Okay. Just making sure.”

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“Not crazy.” She knew dangerous territory when she saw it.

“But you don’t get it.”

She might not get Julia’s methods, but she could appreciate the sentiment. “I get the spirit of it.”

The frown became a scowl, but then Julia shrugged. “I guess that’s close enough.”

The episode started and conversation lulled. Taylor halfwatched Liz’s ill-advised attempt to make things work out with Dennis, again. When the credits rolled, she turned to ask Julia if she’d learned anything about settling, but found her sound asleep. She looked peaceful and, although she’d hate the word, vulnerable.

How could this woman stir her most primal desires and her desire to protect at exactly the same time? Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. She didn’t like it, but she knew it. She was halfway in love with Julia Pierce. Halfway being a conservative estimate.

Taylor collected the dishes and glasses from the coffee table and brought them to the kitchen. She returned to the living room and shut off the TV. Julia didn’t stir.

Taylor grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa and laid it gently over her. Should she try to angle Julia into a position that would leave her less stiff in the morning? No, that would likely wake her up. She grabbed a pillow instead and set it next to her in case she slid down during the night. There, that was better.

“Don’t go.” Julia mumbled the command, eyes half-lidded.

“I’m not going far,” Taylor said. “Just to bed.”

“Can I come?”

Taylor froze. Did she hear right or did she imagine it? Or was Julia talking in her sleep?

“Just to cuddle. I promise I won’t get handsy.”

Okay, so not imagining it. Not dreaming, either, if she had the wherewithal to throw in caveats. There was no way humanly possible this would go well, but equally impossible was denying Julia’s almost timid request. “Of course.”

Julia pushed the blanket to the side and extended her hand. Taylor closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. And then she took it.

It felt at once natural and surreal to lead Julia up the stairs to her bedroom. She let go of Julia’s hand long enough to flip on the lamp near the bed. She turned and found Julia looking down at her dress, frowning.

“Do you want a T-shirt to sleep in?” Because that wasn’t the stuff of fantasy.

Julia smiled. “I’d love one.”

Taylor went over to her dresser and pulled one out. She handed it to Julia. “I’ll give you a minute.”

“Thanks.”

She went to the bathroom, bracing her hands on the vanity and staring at herself in the mirror. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust herself to act like a gentleman. No, it was her own feelings she worried about, letting them tumble out into a messy pile at Julia’s feet. She shook her head. “Get a grip, Winslow.”

After counting to fifty, she returned to the bedroom. She found Julia in her bed, covers pulled up to her chin. “I didn’t know which side of the bed was yours.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Not like she’d be getting any sleep.

“Come on, everyone has a side.”

“Fine. Left.”

Julia scooted over to the right. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Taylor got into bed and switched off the lamp. The nearly full moon gave the room an iridescent glow. Julia had turned onto her side to face her. Taylor cleared her throat. “Do you need anything else? I should have asked.”

“I’m good. Thanks for letting me crash.”

“Anytime.”

Julia smiled. “Good night.”

“Night.”

Julia closed her eyes but Taylor kept hers open. She’d given a lot of thought to what it might be like to spend the night with Julia. None of those thoughts—or fantasies or daydreams—had looked like this. But she couldn’t quite manage to bring herself to be disappointed.

This was probably a terrible idea. Getting closer to Julia made it seem like maybe something was there, something more than a roll in the hay. But that could be wishful thinking as much as anything else. Pursuing it would be a huge risk, to her ego yes, but also to her heart.

The question, the one that kept her up at night even without Julia lying next to her: was she willing to risk it?

* * *

The Last Place You Look ©2020 by Aurora Rey

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Aurora Rey is a college dean by day and a life coach and award-winning author of queer romance the rest of the time, except when she’s puttering in the kitchen, riding the tractor, or pining for goats. Baking is her favorite form of seduction.

BITTERSWEET HOMECOMING BY ELIZA LENTZSKI

Blurb:

They say you can never go home again, but sometimes you have no choice.

A phone call in the middle of the night and news of a death in the family has Abigail Henry catching the next flight out of Los Angeles and traveling back to the small hometown she hasn’t visited in a decade. Nearly everything and everyone looks untouched by time, but it's Abigail herself who has changed. A love story by genre, Bittersweet Homecoming grapples with the basic question: Can you really ever go home again?

You might never be able to go home again, but it’s Charlotte, the beautiful bartender at the local pub, who can tempt Abigail into staying.

Tell us about this scene:

The story's narrator, Abigail Henry, is back in her hometown for the first time in over a decade for the funeral of her little sister's husband. In this scene, Abby has gone to a public space in her small town to view the community's Fourth of July fireworks. She runs into Charlotte, a woman with whom she'd gone to grade school, and joins Charlotte and her six-year-old daughter Amelia to watch the fireworks.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I’m probably best known for my two book series, Winter Jacket and Don’t Call Me Hero, but this standalone novel is my personal favorite. Bittersweet Homecoming is a love letter to my hometown and the people who still live there. Return-to-Hometown is one of my favorite tropes. Even when my stories don't revolve around that specific plot device, my main characters tend to be running from their past—trying to leave something or someone behind them.

I didn’t grow up in Grand Marais, Minnesota—where the majority of the story is set—but the place where I'm from is very similar. As Abby says, it's a slower pace of life. People make eye contact and say hello to strangers. Bittersweet Homecoming is a commentary about the role of technology and communication in relationships today. This is also a book where I took a risk and wrote in the present tense. All of my other novels are written in the past tense. That might not seem like a big distinction, but the present tense changes the feel and tone of the story.

Identifying a favorite novel was a challenge in itself, but choosing a favorite excerpt was even more difficult; there are so many moments in Bittersweet Homecoming that I could have selected. I settled on this particular scene because it’s an example of what I believe I do best. Small, sweet moments. Intimacy. Saying a lot without saying much. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Excerpt:

“The fireworks are supposed to be really good tonight,” she notes. “Last Fourth of July the company the city hired screwed up, so they promised a show to bring down the house this year.”

“How do you screw up fireworks?” I question.

“You light off the grand finale first.”

A loud laugh bubbles up my throat and Charlotte looks particularly pleased at my reaction.

I’m not sure how to continue the conversation, so in the absence of having something to do, I take out my phone. I’ve got full reception up on the bluff, but no messages or missed calls from Kambria. There’s a texted image from Anthony, however. He’s set up stuffed animals among my houseplants. There’s a lion and a zebra and a giraffe. I quietly laugh, but not quiet enough.

“What’s that?” Charlotte asks. 

“Oh, my friend Anthony is house sitting for me, and he sent a picture. We’ve got a running joke that my houseplants are a jungle.”

She leans closer to see the screen of my phone, and the ends of her hair tickle against my bare kneecap. It’s hard to smell anything over the scent of freshly cut grass, but I can make out the sweet scent of her soap.

“Cute,” she remarks before sitting up again.

The sun has sunk deeper into the horizon, and the evening sky is darker. My dad has disappeared on me, but because of my current company, I’m strangely okay with that. I take a deep breath and exhale, feeling my stress escape with the long breath. 

Tiny fireflies hover in the air, making their own fireworks display. The ones we have in Minnesota look like helicopters or Inspector Gadget buzzing through the air with that propeller coming out of his hat. I open my hand, palm facing the sky, and a firefly lands to take a break. It periodically glows and slowly opens and closes its wings as it perches on my hand.

“Isn’t it hot?”

I look up from my cupped hand to see Charlotte’s daughter, Amelia, standing in front of me. “Hot?” I repeat, not quite understanding the question.

“The bug,” the young girl clarifies, “isn’t it burning your hands?” 

“Oh. No. The fire’s inside its belly,” I say. 

She crouches down for a closer look. My hands remain gently curled around the insect, and its yellow-green light flashes against my skin. “Why do they light up like that?” she asks. 

“It’s how they talk to each other.” I’m no entomologist, but fireflies had been a part of my childhood. I also know that male fireflies light up to attract females for mating and that some species are actually cannibals. I’m not about to try to explain that to a six year old though.

Amelia peers hard at my still cupped hands. When I carefully open them, the tiny bug doesn’t fly away. 

“What is it saying?” She speaks quietly as though afraid any loud noise might cause the insect to flee. 

“I’m not sure,” I say. “What do you think it’s saying?”

She tilts her ear towards my hands. “I think it’s trying to find someone. Like a friend, maybe.”

“I should probably let it go so it can keep looking, huh?”

She nods solemnly. She looks too serious for her young age.

I open my hands the rest of the way, and the insect hovers above my palms briefly before jetting off into the night sky. 

“I hope you find your friend, firefly,” Amelia calls out. We both stare up into the inky black sky, which is dotted with tiny sparks of light.

“Amelia, baby, why don’t you have a seat?” Charlotte suggests. “The fireworks are going to start soon.”

“Can I do another sparkler?” she asks.

“One more and then you have to sit.”

Charlotte lights the end of a metal sparkler rod and hands it to her daughter. Amelia holds it out in front of her and stares unblinking at the golden shower of sparks.

“Do you want one?” Charlotte holds the open box of sparklers in my direction.

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“You’re kind of a natural,” she observes. “Are you sure you don’t have kids?”

I’m usually even more awkward around children than I am with their parents, but like dogs that seem to sense who is allergic to them, children tend to flock to me despite my ineptitude. Sometimes I feel like I have more in common with children than I do adults.

“I’m pretty sure I would have remembered something like that.”

Once the fireworks begin, Amelia obediently sits in her mom’s lap, oohing and aahing at the fireworks as they explode overhead. It brings a smile to my face; I remember being that young and thinking Grand Marais’s fireworks were the brightest and biggest and loudest in the world. Around me people start to cheer and clap their hands when the grand finale begins. Amelia covers her hands over her ears, but her smile isn’t shaken. I periodically sneak glances at Charlotte’s profile, lit up by the glow of multicolored fireworks. They have the same smile.

The cheering and applause heightens when the sky is choked with smoke and the last of the fireworks has sputtered out, and I can’t help but join along. At the end, people around us begin to stand and gather their belongings. I stand up on legs made stiff from inactivity. I haven’t seen my dad in a while, but I’m sure he’s somewhere in the crowd, probably talking to someone about plumbing or electrical outlets.

Charlotte picks up the blanket we’ve been sitting on, and I help her fold it.

“It’s not Los Angeles,” she remarks, “but I like it.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know. But you were thinking it.” She gives me a wistful smile that almost makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong. “Have a nice night, Abby. And Happy Fourth of July.”

* * *

Bittersweet Homecoming ©2015 by Eliza Lentzski

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Eliza Lentzski is a best-selling lesbian romance author of over twenty novels. Although a historian by day, Eliza is passionate about fiction. She was born and raised in the upper Midwest, which is often the setting for her books. She lives in Boston with her wife and their cat, Charley.

TRUTH AND MEASURE BY ROSLYN SINCLAIR

Blurb:

Jules Moretti is newly single, an aspiring writer, and the hyper-competent assistant to the most powerful woman in fashion. It’s a tough job, but her ice queen boss won’t settle for less than perfection.

Vivian Carlisle helms the internationally revered fashion publication Du Jour. She might be smack in the middle of a messy divorce, but you have to make sacrifices to be the best. That’s what she tells herself, anyway.

When the unthinkable happens, Vivian’s regimented world is turned upside-down. Her life is about power, success, and dominance—not a baby!

This single, shocking moment throws boss and assistant together into an intimacy neither could have imagined. With their lives in chaos, every day brings a new challenge bigger than the last. But everything will work out…just so long as they don’t do anything totally ridiculous.

Like fall in love.

Tell us about this scene:

Personal assistant Jules Moretti gets a first-hand look at what makes her boss, icy fashion queen Vivian Carlisle, so darn good at her job...and so inconveniently compelling.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I wanted an opening that grabbed the reader right away, and there's something about "I've never cared for yellow" that I really love--it tells us a lot about who Vivian is. And the scene shows how Jules is both awed by Vivian but also sees her realistically. Introductions are hard, but I loved writing this one.

* * *

Excerpt:

“I’ve never cared for yellow,” Vivian Carlisle said absently, looking over the editorial spread. “It’s so garish. Even in pastels.”

Most people would assume her comment was a casual observation. Jules Moretti, not most people, knew it was the calm before the storm and decided this would be a great time to stare intently at the notes on her tablet screen. Who was today’s unlucky target? It couldn’t be her. Vivian didn’t make a habit of discussing aesthetic preferences with personal assistants. It must be somebody a lot higher up the ladder than Jules but still below Vivian. Like Simon, the creative director. Or Angie, head of copywriting. Or God.

But when Jules looked up, unable to take the long silence, she was skewered by Vivian’s bright blue eyes looking directly at her from across the desk. Simon and Angie had left the room, and the heavens remained resolutely silent.

And when Vivian Carlisle said a thing to you and then looked at you, you had about two seconds to figure out whether or not she wanted you to say something back. Jules’s two seconds were halfway up.

She thought fast. She didn’t wear a lot of yellow and she wasn’t wearing any today, and there were models wearing yellow in the spread, so Vivian wasn’t critiquing Jules personally. At least not yet.

Think. Think. Think.

“They’ve done studies,” Jules heard herself saying. “People think yellow’s supposed to make you feel cheerful, but it doesn’t. It can actually make people anxious.” Something more seemed called for. “Uh, pink makes them calmer, actually.”

Did that qualify as thinking? Maybe it was more like shoving her head underwater and shaking it around rapidly. Vivian had no patience for fools. That remark probably qualified as foolish.

Vivian raised an eyebrow.

Jules suppressed the urge to inform her that sometimes prison cells were painted pink to keep the prisoners happy. It might be taken the wrong way.

Instead of calling Jules foolish, Vivian looked back down at the spread on her desk.

Jules braced herself.

“Mallory,” Vivian said.

Jules already had her message app pulled up, and she fired off a summons to Mallory. This wouldn’t be pleasant. Mallory had worked at Du Jour for two years now as a photography director. She’d come up with cool, innovative spreads that had put her first on Simon’s radar, then Vivian’s. Her last project had lacked that flair, though—Vivian had called it “vapid.” This was strike two, and Vivian would make sure Mallory felt the whiff of the baseball as it barely missed her face.

Mallory seemed to sense this as she hurried into Vivian’s office, glancing around at the huge windows that offered amazing views of Manhattan and its sleek, mid-century modern furniture. Mallory fit right in with it, seeming as tall and slim as a skyscraper, clad head to toe in the latest designer fashions.

She was elegant, gorgeous, and she tried so hard. She wanted it so much. Too much. Radiating that kind of attitude in front of Vivian Carlisle was like throwing chum to a shark.

“You wanted me, Vivian?” Mallory asked breathlessly with that mixture of adoration and terror that Vivian seemed to inspire in everyone.

“Hmm.” Vivian didn’t look up from the editorial spread on her desk. Her eyes traveled over the A3 paper with its photos, captions, and copy. “There’s a lot of yellow in this spread, Mallory.”

Mallory went pale. “Er. Well, yes.”

Have to do better than that, Jules thought.

Vivian continued as if she hadn’t heard. “Studies have shown that yellow is a color that causes anxiety. Isn’t that right, Julia?”

Jules’s stomach dropped. She’d never liked Mallory much, but she hadn’t meant to trip her up. “Uh,” she said feebly, “that’s what I…I mean, somewhere, I read…”

“I’ve never read that,” Mallory snapped.

That made Vivian look up at last, in time to see Mallory toss her chestnut hair back over her shoulder.

“My job is to care about style, not pop psychology.” Mallory finally deigned to glance at Jules. “Are you researching a paper for school or something?”

The hell? Mallory had been at Du Jour for less time than Jules had! “I graduated three years ago from—”

“Okay.” Mallory turned back to Vivian. “The truth is, I’m trying to provoke a reaction in readers. I, um, want to make them anxious.”

Bullshit. Jules pressed her lips together to silence a scoff.

“You do?” Vivian asked neutrally.

Mallory should have known better than to take this as encouragement. Vivian didn’t do encouragement. “Well, sure. Fashion’s about pressing the boundaries, right?”

“I assume that question is rhetorical.”

Mallory gulped. “And you know anxiety can be a part of that, right? So…that’s what I was doing. It was on purpose. Kind of edgy.”

“Edgy.” Vivian picked up the spread proof and held it at arm’s length. She was probably trying to get the whole picture, but it looked more like she was holding out a piece of particularly smelly garbage. “Let’s see this copy. ‘Romantic Winter: Get cozy in style with the latest trends to help you look your best as you snuggle in front of a fireplace.’”

Jules held back a snort.

Mallory squirmed as Vivian glanced at her again. “Edgy,” she repeated.

Mallory tugged at her collar. “II guess maybe I’m trying to complicate, but I can see how it’d look—”

“This is pathetic,” Vivian said.

Mallory snapped her mouth shut.

“It’s one thing to make a bad choice.” Vivian held up the spread. “I think you’d know not to associate the color yellow with snow, but I would obviously be wrong.”

“I—”

“But that isn’t your problem, Mallory. Your problem is that you don’t listen, that you refuse to admit your mistakes, and that you’re convinced of your own genius for reasons that completely escape me.”

Oof. Even though Mallory could be a stuck-up jerk, this was painful. Next up: Vivian would put her on notice.

Mallory threw her shoulders back. “When Simon hired me—”

“When Simon hired you, he made a mistake. But unlike you, he’ll own up to it.”

Mallory went even paler.

“Pack up your desk and be gone by lunch,” Vivian said.

Yikes. So much for strike three—Mallory was already off the team. Jules looked at the wall and kept her best poker face. Didn’t see that coming.

Mallory didn’t argue with Vivian’s tone of voice. Nobody did. She swallowed thickly, turned, and walked out of the office.

Jules slowly released a breath. She didn’t like Mallory, but that hadn’t been any fun to watch.

“Julia,” Vivian said.

Jules pressed her lips together and looked back at her boss.

Vivian Carlisle was a striking woman. With her famous platinum blonde hair, shattered pixie haircut, eyes that bordered on electric blue, and bone structure that belonged in a makeup ad, she grabbed unwary mortals’ attention right away. Her Greek nose would have earned her a place of honor in ancient statuary. She was rail thin and pretty tall—a few inches taller than Jules, who was five foot six. She still wore four-inch heels every day as if she wanted to take up all the space she could. Vivian wasn’t Hollywood gorgeous, but models and celebrities paled in her shadow.

Arresting. That’s what she was.

“Get Simon to look for a replacement for Mallory,” Vivian said.

Jules clutched her tablet to her chest and nodded.

“And remind him of the budget freeze when advertising the salary,” Vivian added sourly.

Jules nodded harder and turned to go.

“University of Pennsylvania, wasn’t it?”

Jules froze, then slowly pivoted back to face Vivian, whose penciled eyebrows were up in an elegant arch.

“Double major in communication and English,” Vivian added. “Or something like that.”

It was the effort of a lifetime for Jules to keep the shock off her face. Vivian remembered where Jules had gone to college? Vivian remembered what she’d majored in?

“English and communication at Penn, yeah,” she said, trying to keep it cool. “I’m from around there. Outside of Philly.”

Vivian frowned.

“Philadelphia,” Jules mumbled.

“Simon,” Vivian repeated.

“Of course. I’ll find him now.”

* * *

Truth and Measure ©2022 by Roslyn Sinclair

Published by Ylva Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Ylva Publishing

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Roslyn Sinclair was born in the southern USA, but she’s now enjoying the Northeast and its beautiful fall weather—not so much the colder winters! She loves to travel and has gotten writing inspiration everywhere from Kansas City to Beijing. Roslyn lives with her wife and a cat who, while old and cantankerous, is nevertheless a very good boy.

Sign up here for Roslyn Sinclair ’s author newsletter.

LITTLE LIES BY LILA BRUCE

Blurb:

Getting shot was the last thing Lia Broderick expected to happen when she stopped by the bank on her way to work – that and having the gorgeous woman from the coffee shop down the street be the one to rescue her…

FBI Special Agent Dylan McKenzie is a woman with a mission – locate Steven Horton, the witness who could single-handedly bring down a notorious Crime Family. With Horton hiding from both the mob and the FBI, Dylan and her team are assigned the task of keeping tabs on Horton’s ex-wife after mounting evidence leads them to believe he will run to her. Keeping Lia Broderick under surveillance should have been just another day on the job for Dylan. But, when Lia becomes the victim in a bank robbery gone terribly wrong, Dylan has no choice but to break cover in order to step in and save her.

Despite her best efforts to maintain a professional distance from the attractive accountant, Dylan finds herself being reeled deeper and deeper into Lia’s life. As the investigation heats up—both under the covers and out—it becomes clear that Lia is the key to finding the evidence that the mob is willing to kill to get their hands on. When Dylan is betrayed by a rogue agent, she suddenly finds herself on the run with Lia, uncertain who she can trust. And as the mob closes in, Dylan realizes that the greatest risk is the one she’s taking with her heart.

Tell us about this scene:

This scene picks up with Lia having just discovered that, as part of her undercover investigation, FBI Agent Dylan has not only been keeping Lia under surveillance but has searched her house as well. This invasion of privacy has left Lia feeling angry and betrayed.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is one of my favorite scenes because it was just fun to write. I’d recently seen a posting in a Facebook group complaining about overused clichés in romance, and I thought it would be cool to use those same clichés as a vehicle to ease the tension between the two characters and bring them closer together as a couple.

* * *

Excerpt:

“You’re sorry?” Lia felt a surge of anger rush through her. “Well then, I guess I should just apologize so you can get the hell out of here and go back to your life.”

Dylan seemed unfazed by Lia’s outburst. “Lia, I apologize. When I went through your things, I was just doing my job. I’m not going to lie and say that if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t, because it is my job.” Rubbing at her temples, Dylan propped a hip against the door frame, staying just outside the bedroom. “But I’m sorry that your privacy was invaded. Regardless of how good a reason there was for it, it’s still…” Shaking her head, she repeated, “It was wrong of me. And I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Lia said quietly. “I know that you had a job to do. It doesn’t make me feel any better about it, but I do understand. Sort of.”

Dylan nodded, smiling a little and then, continuing to lean into the doorway, stared down at Lia’s bare feet. A long silence passed between them before Dylan said, “You know, if this were one of your romance novels, then this would be the part where I tell you that I tend to be—as a girl I used to date liked to say—emotionally distant sometimes.” She raised her gaze to meet Lia’s. “And the feelings that I’ve been having when I’m around you…the feelings I’m having for you, quite honestly scare the shit out me. I didn’t…I’m not handling it very well and I apologize.” 

Lia bit down on her bottom lip and blinked hard to keep her own tears in check when she noticed the shimmering in the cobalt-blue eyes staring back at her. It occurred to her that through every crazy thing that had happened since she met Dylan—from the bank robbery to the confrontations with Giametta’s men and even the shoot-out with Agent Boone—she’d never showed even a hint that any of it bothered her. Seeing Dylan this emotional tore at Lia. 

“And if we were characters in a romance novel,” Lia said, trying to keep her voice steady, “then I would be letting go of the breath I didn’t know I was holding right about now.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” 

“Mmhmm.”

A thoughtful expression crossed over Dylan’s face before she asked, “What would happen next, do you suppose?”

“Well…” Lia drawled, cocking her head to one side. “If I’m supposing, then I’d guess that this is where I would say that I’ve been feeling…things when I’m around you, too.”

“Things, huh?”

“Mmhmm. Things.”

Crossing her arms, Dylan took a step forward. “What sort of things, Miss Broderick?”

“Well, Agent McKenzie…” Lia felt the corners of her mouth quirk up into a grin. “Warm, tingly things, if you must know.”

“I see,” Dylan said with an exaggerated nod, moving into the bedroom. “So now—if this were a romance book—I would hear my heart began to beat faster as I walked toward you.”

Lia licked her lips and allowed her eyes to roam over Dylan’s body as she drew nearer. She decided it should be a crime for anyone to look that good in a t-shirt and cutoff sweats. Noticing the press of Dylan’s nipples against the thin cotton shirt, she felt her body flush, a slow burning heat that was spreading faster than Lia was prepared for, and she found that she had to remind herself to breathe.

“And my eyes would darken with passion,” she murmured, keeping her gaze fixed on Dylan.

Dylan ran a tongue over her lips, leaving Lia aching to feel them against her skin. 

“And mine would drop…” Dylan’s voice was like warm syrup, smooth and dark. “…I suppose, as they drink in your beauty.”

Dipping her head, Dylan took possession of Lia’s mouth. She pressed her hips into Lia’s, her arms moving to encircle Lia’s waist before one palm slid under the ugly orange sweatshirt, making long, circular caresses along her spine as their bodies swayed together. With a flick of her tongue, Dylan parted Lia’s lips and deepened the kiss. Lia returned it with a fervor that surprised her, reveling in the taste of Dylan’s kiss, the sensation of the breasts that were pressing into her own. Sliding her hand lower, Dylan nipped at Lia’s lower lip and, feeling her legs go weak, Lia melted into Dylan’s arms. 

Moving both hands lower along Lia’s waist, Dylan began dropping kisses across her face. Lia could feel Dylan’s breathing quicken as her actions seemed to increase in intensity and her own body throbbed in response. She whimpered when Dylan caught an earlobe between her teeth and nipped at it, working it with her tongue. Flexing her hands as she cupped them against Lia’s buttocks, Dylan continued to urge their hips closer. Moaning, Lia let her head fall back, opening her neck for Dylan’s feasting lips.

A sudden smack across Lia’s ass brought things to screeching halt. 

What the hell? Stiffening at the unexpected, although not painful, slap, Lia bored her eyes into Dylan’s and arched an eyebrow. 

Dylan’s cheeks, already flushed, turned crimson as she gave Lia a sheepish grin. 

“Sorry,” she rasped, her voice husky. “I got caught up in the moment.”

“This isn’t that kind of book.” 

Dylan’s eyes gave an amused twitch. “No?”

“Never.” Well, maybe not never, Lia thought, drinking in the hungry look that Dylan was giving her. In the same instance, she realized that the fact that she may not have much time left to be with Dylan wasn’t important. What mattered most—with Dylan’s arms wrapped tenderly around her, their bodies molded together—was just that. She may not have much time left to be with Dylan. However long that was—days or even hours, Lia decided she knew exactly how she wanted to spend it.

* * *

Little Lies ©2016 by Lila Bruce

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Lila Bruce lives in North Georgia with her wife and their (at last count) nine cats (the perils that await when two lesbians combine households). When not writing, Lila spends her time reading, minding her feline herd, and drinking dangerous amounts of coffee.

ROOK TAKES QUEEN BY EM STEVENS

Blurb:

Rook Black is determined to leave her chess career in the past. Unfortunately, beyond being able to kick ass on the board, she doesn't have many skills to offer up, which leads her to a hustle-- and a lot of trouble. Trying to make it right, she's stuck back in the game and miserable about it... until she meets Carmen.

Carmen Barnes is a beauty queen who's out to prove she's more than just a pretty face. Determined to use her crown to change the world, she wants to leave a mark that makes people think. Hosting a chess tournament for a local teen's homeless shelter is just the thing. One caveat: She doesn't know a thing about chess. There's also the stifling rules that come with her title. Romance--or a lack thereof-- is written into her contract.

When a stubborn chess player is pitted against an ambitious pageant winner, heads butt and sparks fly. Will Rook's gambit pay off? Fate aims for a checkmate in this lesbian romance!

Tell us about this scene:

A Chess Grandmaster is hired by a beauty queen to help with a charity event, but finds herself involved just as much in the woman as she is in the community service.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene is one of my favorites because I loved writing Carmen from Rook's point of view-- a no-nonsense pageant queen who doesn't have time for Rook's attitude. There was something that just clicked as soon as the dialogue between the two started, and I could feel the attraction spilling from me, rather than having to coax it later through edits.

* * *

Excerpt:

Quitting competitive chess had helped with the chronic, stomach-souring nerves but the defenses she’d set up had never fully dropped.

She took another deep sip, the cream and caramel tasting the best after beating herself up. Sweet masked all the bitter. 

Speaking of tasting the best… her eyebrow raised at the brunette bombshell that walked through the doors. Day-yum. Super fit, but soft face and legs like whoa. The woman could easily be a model. It wasn’t just her perfect face or perky breasts. It was the way she carried herself; shoulders back and precise, measured steps that commanded Rook’s attention. The woman went to the counter and ordered a small tea and a bottle of water. 

Then she came straight over to Rook’s table. 

Rook’s breath hitched at the large, white smile and warm, blue eyes. She’d always been a sucker for the dark hair/light eyes combo and this woman packed a wallop. “Rook Black?”

Too stunned to speak, Rook just stared. Why on earth was this gorgeous woman speaking to her? How did she even know her? “Um,” was the best she could manage. 

The woman held her hand out and at least Rook maintained enough awareness to shake it. Firm grip and long, slender fingers. Elegant hands, but capable. “I’m Carmen.”

“San Diego?” She blurted it out before she could stop herself and Rook had never been so embarrassed of her lack of filter. 

Carmen gave an exaggerated eye roll and holy hell, how did she make even that sexy? “Yep. You got me.” She released Rook’s hand and sat across from her. Their knees skimmed under the table and even that briefest of touches was enough to send her blood thundering in her ears. “I’m Carmen Barnes? Miss United States? Your friend Joey set up this meeting?”

Joey? She hadn’t heard that name in so long. Still, it helped things click into place. “Yeah, Rooster. He’s acting as my manager right now, I guess.” The part that didn’t click neatly was the Miss United States part. “Wait, you mean like the pageant?”

Carmen gave a delicate laugh and Rook swooned a little. “Yep, that’s the one. I’m queen for another few months. Do all Grandmasters need a manager?”

It was the bucket of ice water Rook had desperately needed. The reminder of who she was (who you still are) and why they were there spoiled the mood. “Only the ones who’re doing awesome, great things.” The reply was tipped with venom, because she wasn’t exactly doing awesome or great things. She was struggling to pay her bills and now had a criminal record.  And here was a successful beauty queen talking to her about chess. Rook’s stomach dropped and her defenses flared; she had a good idea of where this was headed. 

“Well, then, we’re a perfect match,” Carmen said. Rook wanted to believe it, but she could already tell that the looks might be all right with Carmen, but the attitude was going to clash. Rook didn’t do dreamy or inspirational. “I’m hosting a fundraiser. It’s a chess tournament, and I need someone who’s available for large chunks of time to help coach homeless kids in chess. And, um,” Carmen chewed her lip and for the first time since she walked in, appeared vulnerable. “Me. I’m looking to learn how to play.”

“Why does Miss United States need to learn to play chess? It isn’t something that’s easy to use for the talent portion of the competition.” Rook didn’t mean to be so abrasive. She knew she was being rude, but it was her default state. She’d been reactive for so long she wasn’t sure how to turn it off, or even tone it down. 

Her snarky reply didn’t go unnoticed. Carmen’s smile faltered and she sat a little straighter. “I don’t compete after this. I want to learn because I like trying new things and challenging myself.”

“It isn’t exactly twirling a fucking baton.”

That erased any kindness left on Carmen’s face, and Rook was sorry for it. The worst part was, she couldn’t stop. It was as if the more she dug her own hole, the faster she shoveled. Maybe I can just fall in it now, and Carmen will walk away before I really screw this up. 

“Well, I suppose that stereotype is true,” Carmen spat back. “That incredibly smart people lack social skills and the ability to be pleasant.” 

Her words cut to the quick. Rook hated, absolutely hated being cast into roles, even if they were true. She didn’t want to be Grandmaster Chess Player Rook Black, but she was. She didn’t want to be The Smartest Girl in the Room, but she usually was. This was a new one, The Intelligent Asshole, and Rook didn’t want to be it, either. But she’d certainly painted herself that way, hadn’t she?

Her palms pressed into her eyes and she leaned back. This helped when she played, too. Remove herself from the board. Think about the pieces without staring at them. Plan her next moves. It was clear to see who was at fault here, and it wasn’t the gorgeous brunette sitting across from her. 

“I’m, um, sorry. I’m being a bitch.”

“Well, you aren’t winning any favors for sure. If you don’t want the job,” Carmen huffed, “Just say ‘no.’ I’m a big girl, and I can take it.” There was a lot of subtext in her voice, and Rook caught it all. First, she believed Carmen when she said she was a ‘big girl.’ It was reassuring and, well, attractive. Carmen wasn’t the kind of girl Rook could make cry with a few well-placed zings. She’d push back. Second, Carmen might be saying she didn’t need Rook, but she did. It was obvious that she was banking on Rook’s expertise and name. 

And Rook was banking on a much-needed paycheck.

“Okay, so how long do I have to tutor? How many kids? When, um, would I be tutoring you?” Her tongue darted out to drag along lips that were dry and Rook could have sworn that Carmen’s eyes tracked every movement with something that looked like hunger.

* * *

Rook Takes Queen ©2017 by Em Stevens

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* * *

About the Author:

Em Stevens was shortlisted for most likely to succeed. She’s a best-selling author of queer fiction. When she isn’t writing she enjoys all that NC has to offer, from mountains to the sea, wine and distilleries. Em and company, including two furry friends, reside in Raleigh.

Sign up here for Em Stevens ’s author newsletter.

MODERN ENGLISH BY RACHEL SPANGLER

Blurb:

When dreams and expectations clash in a flurry of sparks, an actress and an aristocrat find themselves searching for common ground. Lady Victoria Penchant has had enough scandal for one lifetime, and she’s sworn off drama for good. But when she makes an unexpected return to her family’s castle during high tourist season, drama is exactly what she finds—in the form of a Hollywood film crew and their sharp-tongued, stunning star, Sophia LeBlanc. Sparks of every kind fly from their first encounter, and the drama doubles as Vic’s every decision draws her closer to Sophia and further from the expectations of the prestigious position she has been raised to protect. Sophia has worked and scraped and fought her way up from nothing to the brink of stardom. She’s spent her career taking direction from rich, pretty, privileged men, and she has no intention of letting some rich, pretty, privileged aristocrat stand in the way now that her wildest dreams are within reach. She vows to stay in control of every situation during filming, but the Lady of the Manor proves to be an unexpectedly stubborn and alluring challenge to the goals she’s fought so hard to achieve. As the summer heats up, Vic and Sophia learn they have far more in common than their intense sexual attraction, but will that be enough to overcome the pressures of proud histories and find their way toward a new vision of forever?

Tell us about this scene:

Modern-day nobility Lady Victoria Penchant has just arrived home at her family's castle to find a moving team hauling away pieces of centuries-old furniture. Furious at the seemingly unauthorized entrance she charges up the stairs to check on a specific family heirloom, her grandmother's sword, and there she collides with Sophia LeBlanc for the first time.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is the introduction to not only one of my favorite couples, but also a series of books that mean a great deal to me. Also, who doesn't love sapphics with swords.

* * *

Excerpt:

Vic’s eyes darted around the room until they fell on the bare patch of wall where her grandmother’s rapier should have hung. Her blood boiled. None of the furniture had been personal, and even the prospect of a stranger running roughshod over her home didn’t compare with the rage she felt at the thought of anyone touching that sword.

Hide-and-seek strategy be damned, she was ready to release the proverbial hounds when she spun around and saw the tip of a metal hilt sticking out of a brown cardboard cylinder. It took her two steps to reach it, and in one grand flourish she unsheathed the blade. 

God help whoever’d tried to make off with this. She gave a quick flick of her wrist and relished the whoosh the metal made as it slashed the air. 

“Unhand the sword,” a firm voice ordered from behind her. 

Quite the opposite of the command, she whirled, arm at the ready until her eyes landed on the woman who’d issued the order. Vic blinked a few times, as if trying to make sense of the strikingly beautiful body clad in traditional tan riding breaches that smoothly stretched from the top of tall leather equestrian boots, over smoldering curves of thighs and hips, and all the way up to a high, slender waist. From there, a gauzy white blouse flowed loosely everywhere but the bust. The woman’s ample assets stressed the last button before the barest hint of exposed cleavage and collarbone. Vic stared at that meeting point only a second too long before the odd word choice finally seeped through her haze, and she snapped her attention to the woman’s dark, defiant eyes.

Struck nearly speechless once more, she managed only to squeak out, “Unhand?”

The woman lifted her chin and stared down her nose at Vic. 

“Release it.”

Instead of obeying, she stepped forward, tightening her grip on the hilt. Her anger flared at being spoken to with such disdain when it was she who had the right to make demands here. 

To her credit the woman didn’t back away even as Vic swung the blade more pointedly in her direction. 

The intruder cut an imposing figure. Her boots made her only a smidge taller than Vic, but her bearing amplified her stature. Strong bone structure and dark hair pulled severely back from her smooth sienna face paired flawlessly with the haughty line of her lips. More impressively, her poise was so unfaltering that if the woman had commanded anything other than a symbolic severing of Vic’s birthright, she might have complied. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Lady Regina Bronwyn Alistair.”

Vic narrowed her eyes, unable to quite place the woman’s posh accent. The name managed to sound both vaguely familiar and utterly contrived all at once. The resulting disconnect caused her guard to falter, and she lowered the tip of the rapier as she tried to place the name. The move proved poorly timed, because Lady Regina made use of the lapse to quickly sidestep the false edge of the sword and push well into Vic’s personal space. Then in the same fluid motion, the woman placed a hand firmly around Vic’s on the hilt, and pressed down, pinning the rapier between them.

“And who are you?” 

Her mouth went dry, both at being so swiftly disarmed and the woman’s sudden proximity. The chill emanating from the impressive body somehow managed to heat Vic to her core, as their eyes locked. “I’m Vic.” 

“Vic?” 

“Toria.” She sighed and collected herself. “Victoria. Victoria Charlotte Algernon Penchant, if you must.” 

Lady Regina arched an eyebrow coolly. 

The lack of reception rubbed Vic raw once more. Why had she entered into a battle of wills and arousal with this stranger in her own home? Was her sense of self so weak? She belonged here. This woman did not. Honestly, those were among the few things she knew for certain, and still her voice lacked conviction as she cleared her throat and added, “If you don’t remove yourself from my living room immediately, I won’t hesitate to contact the proper authorities.” 

A flash of something dark sparked in the woman’s eyes, and the corner of her tight lips gave a little twitch. “Living room?” 

Odd that she’d homed in on that word instead of, immediately or authorities. Still, Vic made use of the brief upper hand to attempt a withdrawal to a more suitable distance, but as she stepped back, the woman’s hand tightened around her own, and, by extension, the rapier. 

Vic’s eyes flicked quickly to the place where strong fingers held hers captive, then back to the woman, and the last of her poise faltered. Her heart hammered in her chest as a fight-or-flight instinct took hold of her senses. The other woman must have seen it as well, because in the rush of fear, they both reacted in the same way. 

“Security!” they called simultaneously, and with equal force, but before Vic could fully register the coincidence, several people ran in from opposing doorways. 

To her right, and to her relief, a few familiar faces of her estate staff appeared, but behind the woman who’d yet to release her, another stranger sprinted into the room, followed by the house steward, James. 

“Your Ladyship?” He lowered his head, then catching sight of the rapier, snapped his eyes up once more. “Are you quite all right, ma’am?” 

“Yes,” both she and Regina answered in unison again. They stared at each other for another long, tense second before the corner of Regina’s pressed lips curled up slightly. 

“For the love of God,” the woman with James called out, in a distinctly American accent. “Cut. End scene. Break. Whatever the hell your safe word is, Sophia, I’m using it right now.” 

The woman snorted and cracked only the smuggest of smiles before she slowly released Vic’s hand and stepped back. 

“Sophia?” Vic asked. It was the only thing she could manage to process amid the piles of mounting questions. “You introduced yourself as Regina.” 

“Oh, Sophia, you didn’t.” The woman with James stepped forward. “I apologize completely, for that and any other confusion we may have caused. I’m Talia Stamos, producer and screenwriter.” 

“And this,” Talia gestured to the woman who still held Vic’s attention, “is our lead actress, Sophia LeBlanc, who’s currently flexing her method-acting muscles to prepare for playing the role of Princess Regina Alistair.” 

Vic fought the urge to step back or collapse as all the tension left her body. She’d not interrupted a robbery, but rather stepped into a film scene with a Hollywood powerhouse.

Embarrassment came quickly on the edge of her relief, but if Sophia could play the role of princess convincingly, then Vic could certainly summon enough gravitas to greet her properly.

Giving a small, stately bow, she extended her hand to Sophia. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madam LeBlanc.” 

Sophia raised an eyebrow before accepting Vic’s hand with a half-hearted squeeze. “Likewise, I’m sure.” 

* * *

Modern English ©2021 by Rachel Spangler

Published by Bywater Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bywater Books

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* * *

About the Author:

Rachel Spangler is the Goldie, IPPY, and Alice B award-winning author of twenty-two sapphic romance novels They live with their wife and son in Western New York, and always make time for a good romance, whether reading it, writing it, or living it.

OUT ON THE ICE BY KELLY FARMER

Blurb:

Caro Cassidy used to be a legend.

During her career, Caro was one of the best defense players in women’s hockey. These days, she keeps to herself. Her all-girls hockey camp is her life, and she hopes it’ll be her legacy. Sure, her new summer hire is charming and magnetic, but Caro keeps her work and personal life strictly separate.

Amy Schwarzbach lives life out loud.

Amy’s as bright and cheerful as her lavender hair, and she uses her high-profile position in women’s hockey to advocate for the things she believes in. Ten weeks in Chicago coaching a girls’ training camp is the perfect opportunity to mentor the next generation before she goes back to Boston.

Letting love in means putting yourself out there.

When the reticent head coach offers to help Amy get in shape for next season, her starstruck crush on Caro quickly blossoms into real chemistry. As summer comes to an end, neither of them can quite let go of this fling—but Amy can’t afford a distraction, and Caro can’t risk her relationship becoming public and jeopardizing the one thing that’s really hers.

Tell us about this scene:

Caro and Amy have just gotten home from having dinner with friends to let Caro's black Lab Doug out for a potty break. They are enjoying each other's company for what they think is going to be a summer fling.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is the turning point where Caro and Amy go from taking this slow and casual to “Uh-oh, feelings.” Caro has been holding back from really acting on her attraction to Amy, since she doesn’t typically do flings. Amy is just really adorable here.

The dialogue in this scene is probably my favorite exchange I’ve ever written. Dialogue is my jam! And Doug is being cute and silly. It’s always fun to show the boundless enthusiasm of a Labrador retriever.

I also think this is a great introduction to my author voice if you’re looking for a taste. There’s snarky humor, snappy dialogue, lots of heart, and the joy and excitement of two women falling in love. All of these are things I love to incorporate in my books (and goofy dogs, too). I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

* * *

Excerpt:

“I’m so full, Dougalino,” Amy groaned, greeting his wagging tail with a big smooch on his head.

“Want to take him for a quick walk around the block?” Caro asked.

“He has to poop, doesn’t he?”

She laughed and agreed, snapping his leash on. They moved toward the sidewalk. Amy laced her fingers through Caro’s. “Is this okay?”

Caro’s smile came easily. “Yeah.”

“Just want to be sure. I don’t know how much PDA you’re into.”

“This is nice.” She squeezed Amy’s hand. “Thanks for asking.”

“Nobody’s around and it’s dark,” Amy said.

“This is one of the good things about separating Girls & Goals from the rest of my life. I can do what I please outside the rink.”

“Good point. Did you have fun tonight?”

“A lot of fun. Thanks for arranging it.”

“You are very welcome.” Amy smiled, and it stirred the butterflies in her stomach. They hadn’t spent much time alone the past few days. Work, the rink, and Amy’s preplanned social outings had kept them from private time. They’d gone to the movies Sunday night and had lunch together every day that week, but the kisses had been few and far between. Tonight would be different. It was early, their schedules were clear, and Doug was finally taking a shit.

“Good job, Dougie,” Amy cooed. “Who’s my man? Is it you? It is? Yaaaaayyy!”

Doug hopped around, nearly tangling Caro in his leash. She bagged his deposit and teased, “Are you sure you’re not using me to get to my dog?”

“No. Maybe.” Amy’s eyes glimmered wickedly in the lamplight.

“Didn’t realize you liked hairy men.”

“What Doug and I have is special. I choose to overlook his excessive body hair.”

“It’s easy to gloss over less attractive attributes when you’re smitten.”

“I am so deeply smitten.” She snagged Doug’s leash and galloped with him. It was sweet. At least she didn’t have to worry about Amy getting along with him if they had a future together. Which they couldn’t, but it was nice to know.

Caro swung wide to toss the baggie in the playground garbage can. She really had to not think about the future. Right here, right now was what she should focus on. Amy was here, laughing and happy, making Caro laugh and be happy. A woman who cared about her and made her life richer and full of possibility. That made her smile and reach for Amy’s hand when she rejoined them. Amy slid her teal-tipped fingers through Caro’s.

“Doug kind of is my type,” Amy mused. “Goofy, loyal, loves food, likes to be outside.”

“Basically, your type is a Labrador retriever.”

Her big laugh echoed in the quiet night surrounding them. “I guess so.”

“He’s not complaining.” Not by the big grin Doug beamed up at her.

“I’m not, either.”

“Neither am I. I’m glad he’s found bliss with a lovely partner.”

“Why, thank you.” Amy giggled. “What about you? What’s your type?”

“Canine or human?”

“Human.”

Caro considered the question. She could have a lot of fun with this. “Active. Doesn’t have to be athletic, but, y’know, the only couch potato in my life is Doug.”

“Active. Okay.” Amy swung her arms, her steps more pronounced. “Short? Tall?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“All right.” She bounced on her toes. “Short hair? Long hair?”

“Long hair. Long, dark hair. Brunettes, mostly.”

“Darn.” She scratched at her freshly trimmed and dyed locks. Caro squelched her smile. “Eye color. Brown? Lighter?”

She could torture Amy some more, but decided on “Brown.”

“That’s good. Brown eyes are the most common. Better odds.” Amy tilted her head and batted her eyelashes.

It was so adorable, all Caro could get out was “Yeah.”

Amy glanced at Doug sniffing through a clump of mowed grass. “Must love dogs, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

She scratched her nails through his thick hair. “Anything else?” Her tone was so falsely casual, it took everything not to bust out laughing.

“The more femme, the better.” Caro looked over at Amy, telegraphing her desire to get her hands on that little sundress and the smooth skin beneath.

Amy bit down a smile. “Good to know,” she nearly squeaked.

“What about you?” Caro countered, even though she knew the answer. “What’s your human type?” Attractive, driven, in shape…

Amy stopped walking, her face sobering. She stared up at Caro with pure intensity. “You.”

Caro stopped walking, too.

“It’s always been you, Caro.” Her thumb stroked the back of Caro’s hand. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you at Team USA camp all those years ago. I’ve never stopped.”

Holy shit. “Really?”

“Really.”

How could someone so vibrant want plain old Caro Cassidy? Carry a torch for years? It was dumbfounding.

Words couldn’t convey what that meant to her. She pulled Amy close. Amy whispered, “I’ve dreamed about this for years.”

Caro kissed her softly. Years. Jesus, if she’d known that, she would’ve jumped her bones ages ago when she was a lot more confident and in way better shape.

But they had today. They had now. And Amy wanted her now, maybe more than ever. She wanted Amy more than any woman ever. This was the right moment.

They kissed again, their connection filled with intent. “Let’s go home,” Caro murmured.

“Home,” Amy agreed.

* * *

Out on the Ice ©2020 by Kelly Farmer

Published by Carina Press

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Carina Press

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* * *

About the Author:

Kelly Farmer has been writing romance since junior high. One theme remains the same: everyone deserves a happy ending. She enjoys nature, quoting from 80’s movies, and petting every dog she comes in contact with. Kelly lives in the Chicago area and swears every winter is her last one there.

Sign up here for Kelly Farmer ’s author newsletter.

BROKEN BEYOND REPAIR BY EMILY BANTING

Blurb:

Sydney MacKenzie, personal assistant to the rich and famous, is looking forward to a well-earned break to go travelling in her beloved VW camper van, Gertie — that is, until Gertie cries off sick. When her boss calls in a favour, one that will pay Sydney handsomely and put Gertie back on the road, she can’t refuse.

Internationally renowned actress Beatrice Russell — adored by her fans and despised by those that know her — is splashed across the tabloids, all thanks to her broken leg. She limps back to her palatial English country estate to convalesce for the summer, where she finds herself in need of yet another new assistant.

Enter Sydney, who doesn’t take kindly to the star’s demands, attitude, or clicking fingers — much less her body’s own attraction to the gorgeous diva. If not for that, and Gertie’s worn-out engine, she would leave tomorrow. Or so she tells herself.

As the summer heats up, the ice queen begins to thaw, and Sydney glimpses the tormented woman beneath the celebrity bravado, drawing her ever closer to the enigmatic actress — sometimes too close.

Can Sydney reach the real Beatrice and help heal her wounds before the summer ends and she returns to filming in the States, or is the celebrity broken beyond repair?

Tell us about this scene:

Internationally renowned actress Beatrice Russell is hauled up in her LA hotel suite after breaking her leg during the filming of her latest film. She takes a call from her agent Alison.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene allowed me to torture an ice queen and I enjoyed every minute of writing it. As a romance author, I try not to be too cruel to my playthings… I mean characters. Yes, I’ll kill off their loved ones, keep them from what their heart desires most and force them to examine the worst parts of their own character, but that’s all in the name of a good story. In this scene, Beatrice is frustrated because she’s incapacitated due to her injury. Giving her a bright pink cast, removing her wheelchair so she had to use crutches, and then bringing up subjects that push her buttons, were simply icing on the cake— and I do love cake!

* * *

Excerpt:

Beatrice scooted back from the ensuite on her butt, dragging her lead weight of a broken leg across the floor of the hotel suite. She held a level of animosity towards it — it was seriously letting the side down. She was now going to spend the next six weeks dragging its incompetence around.

Why the casting nurse had used a blindingly pink fibreglass bandage was beyond Beatrice’s understanding. She’d been too distracted with her phone when the woman had begun winding the atrocity around her leg. 

Her phone vibrated on the bedside table; she scooted faster towards it before it could ring off. 

“Hello?” she answered, out of breath from the effort.

“How are we?” Alison’s welcome voice came back as Beatrice put it on speaker so she could clamber onto the bed.

“We are miserable. I feel like I’ve been clamped in irons. A physiotherapist has been in to tell me the rest of me is going to waste away in the meantime. She even had the audacity to remove my wheelchair to force me to use these bloody crutches, which are going to drive me mad if they don’t kill me first.” Beatrice groaned and leaned back against the headboard. “I just want to be home, Ali.”

“The production company — who reiterate again how sorry they are — have only extended their apologies as far as a first-class commercial flight. I assumed you wouldn’t want to charter yourself. I saw the last settlement offer you made to Peter.”

“Is this where you mention the prenup again?” Beatrice deadpanned.

Alison chuckled. “I’ve rubbed your face in that one enough.”

“Book a charter and send them the bill, I’m not flying commercial with this leg. You can remind them I could remain in this lavish suite they’re paying for; that should do the trick. I know how much they charge a night for this room, and frankly it’s overpriced.”

“It’ll be Burbank, not LAX, as it’s such short notice.”

“That’s fine; it’s closer. Try and get something expensive and make sure it has a lift.”

“I’ll see what I can rustle up. In other news, we have a new PA.”

“A competent one?” Beatrice asked, mindful not to get her hopes up.

“She comes highly recommended by her agency.”

Beatrice pinched the top of her nose. “Urgh, don’t they all?”

Alison chose not to comment on this. “I’ll send you her phone number, and your flight details once I have them.”

“I appreciate you sorting all this. Fleur’s been AWOL since she handed in her very short notice. I’ve been relying on room service and concierges to get by. I’ll get her to pack my belongings and dispense with her — less a couple of days’ pay.”

“You outdid yourself with that one,” Alison said with a light laugh. “Speaking of roles, I’m sending you a couple of potential jobs for next year. Let me know if any grab your attention, and I’ll send the script samples over to you to peruse.” 

“Good. I’ll need something to do on the flight home to keep me awake. I’ve been told to keep active.”

“How’s the book? Is it coming along or not?”

“Well, actually, I did start putting some thoughts down some years ago.” 

A lot of thoughts, in fact; she’d already covered most of the poignant events in her adult acting career. A particularly challenging role a few years before had affected her more than she would have liked, and writing was a good distraction from it. 

“I didn’t think we kept secrets,” Alison snarked. 

“I keep them when I find the alternative of you hounding me to the depths of hell too much,” Beatrice rejoined. 

“Speaking of secrets… there is something you should know.” 

The slowing of her agent’s speech caused Beatrice’s heart rate to pick up.

“Yes?”

“I know you said you didn’t want to know when it happened.” Alison exhaled. “Your father died a few weeks ago.” 

Beatrice stiffened. Her mother and father were dead to her when she turned eighteen. 

Alison continued, “I went to the service. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why?”

“I thought someone should pay their respects.”

“That man deserved no respect,” Beatrice bit out.

“Be that as it may, someone needed… to represent you. I know him being alive wouldn’t have prevented you from being honest in your book.” Alison paused. “I thought it was best that you knew.”

“Were there many there?” Beatrice cursed her curiosity.

“A handful.”

“Well, I have the first niggling of needing to pee,” she lied, “and with the time it takes me to get to the bathroom I’ll need to set off now.”

“Sure thing, Bea.” The tone of Alison’s reply indicated she understood Beatrice wanted the matter closed. “Send me what you’ve done on the book, and I’ll look over it.”

Beatrice hung up and lifted her cast onto the mountain of pillows, covering herself back over with the Egyptian cotton sheet. A handful of mourners was five fingers more than her father deserved — she wouldn’t waste her time sticking two up at him. Good riddance.

* * *

Broken Beyond Repair ©2022 by Emily Banting

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

I’m a contemporary sapphic romance author writing about women over forty as they experience everything life throws at them — and I throw things! I love mixing age-gaps and ice queens together with historic buildings or environments because I dig history, literally, I have a degree in Archaeology and Heritage Management.

Sign up here for Emily Banting ’s author newsletter.

ANYONE BUT HER BY ERICA LEE

Blurb:

Reagan Cooper has been an out and proud lesbian since high school, but can't say no when her gay best friend, Jamie Miller, asks her to pretend to be his girlfriend for his family reunion. Jamie has been there for her through everything. Plus, she's interested in learning more about the family he never speaks of.

Living in California for eight years, Charlie Miller has been able to live authentically, but being back in her small Maryland hometown with her conservative family means going back into the closet. What she didn't expect was to be so attracted to her brother's girlfriend.

Tell us about this scene:

Reagan, who at this point everyone thinks is Jamie’s fiancé, is currently hooking up with his sister, Charlie. Charlie and Jamie’s whole family is currently at the house for a family reunion and their nana just walked in to find Charlie with her hand down Reagan’s pants.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I have always loved ridiculous slapstick humor. Scenes where things just spiral more and more out of control crack me up, so that’s exactly what I did with this scene. Not going to lie, I laughed the whole time I wrote it and still laugh when I re-read it.

* * *

Excerpt:

Charlie and I both followed the direction of her nana’s glare and our eyes landed on Charlie’s hand. The hand that was still conveniently located inside of my pants. Shit.

Before we could say anything, Nana was out the door. With Nana’s lack of speed, we were able to make it down the stairs right behind her, stopping her in the hallway. “Nana, I can explain. This truly isn’t what it looks like.” Charlie’s voice cracked, and it broke my heart. 

“Oh yeah? I might be old, but I’m not senile. Are you really going to try to tell me that you weren’t getting handsy with your brother’s fiancé?” 

“What’s going on here?” a male voice added, and I looked over to see Jamie walking into the hallway. 

Nana started to shake her head and I could have sworn I heard her mutter Hail Mary under her breath a few times before looking up at Jamie. “Jamie, I don’t know how to break it to you lightly, so I’m just going to say it. Your sister is canoodling with your fiancé. Caught her coochie-handed and all.” 

The sound of someone shrieking caused all four of us to jump. “That can’t be true. Charlotte would not do such a thing with her brother’s fiancé. That’s preposterous! Reagan is a girl.” Mrs. Miller wasn’t keeping her voice down and I knew it wouldn’t be long before she drew even more attention. Although, I found the volume of her voice much less disturbing than the fact that she seemed to find gender to be the worst part of what she had just heard. She turned to Jamie next. “Go on. Tell your nana she misinterpreted what she saw. Tell her that no fiancé of yours would ever cheat on you.” 

Jamie chewed on his bottom lip and looked toward the ground. “Reagan isn’t my fiancée, Mom,” he responded softly. 

“Jim! Get out here now!” Mrs. Miller shouted to her husband. 

I watched how Jamie’s posture stiffened when his dad joined us. “What’s up?” Mr. Miller asked cheerfully. 

“Your grandmother is making up horrible lies about your daughter and now your son is trying to claim that Reagan isn’t his fiancé.” 

I heard Charlie’s breathing pick up beside me, but couldn’t tell if it was anger or sadness coming to the surface. “It’s not a lie, okay? Nana is telling the truth.” 

Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed Charlie’s hand. I wanted to be able to take Jamie’s as well. Be there for him during this time. But he was too far away. I tried to give him a comforting look, but he immediately diverted his eyes from mine. 

“What is going on here?” Charlie’s grandma asked, having just walked into the hall with the whole extended Miller family close behind. 

Charlie’s mother shook her head. “There are terrible, disgusting lies being told. I’m just waiting for them to tell me this is all some sick joke.” 

“I don’t get it,” some relative that I couldn’t even identify at this point added on. 

Jamie threw both hands up in the air. “There’s not too much to get. My homophobic mother somehow not only birthed one, but two, gay children.” 

Charlie dropped my hand and took one step away from me. “Wow. Way to throw me under the bus, bro!” she shouted back at Jamie. 

Jamie scoffed in return. “Nana literally caught you with your hand down another girl’s pants. I don’t think anyone was questioning whether you’re gay.” 

Charlie crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You caught me with my tongue down her throat and somehow didn’t believe it.” 

Mr. Miller laughed uncomfortably and looked around at the members of his family. “This is obviously all a joke. My children aren’t like this.” 

I watched the whole scene play out in front of me, unable to move or speak. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine something like this happening. Then two eyes landed on me. Two fuming eyes. “This is all your fault.” Mrs. Miller wagged a finger at me. “You did this to them!” 

Charlie grabbed a hold of my hand once again and squared her shoulders toward her mom. “No, Mother, she didn’t. I’ve always been this way and I assume Jamie has too.” 

To my surprise, Mrs. Miller broke into tears. “Is it my fault? It’s because we let you go by those bisexual names, isn’t it?” 

“I think you actually mean unisex,” one of the young cousins added, looking almost amused with the scene playing out in front of him. 

“No, Mom, it isn’t because of our names. Names don’t make someone gay. One person doesn’t make someone gay, no matter how special they are.” Charlie gave me a slight smile, and I almost forgot about everything going on around us. For a moment, it was just her and me. 

That moment was interrupted by the sound of yet another voice. A female one this time. “I’m still in love with you!” My eyes snapped up and landed on Mary Beth. 

What the hell? Why was she even here? 

Jamie looked just as aghast as me by her untimely confession. “Seriously, Mary Beth? Did you miss the part where my whole family found out I was gay?” 

Charlie slowly raised her hand that wasn’t holding mine. “I actually think she’s talking to me.” 

Well, shit. 

Jamie’s eyes went even wider. “So, is this your thing, Charlie? You just steal all of my girlfriends?” 

“First of all, you and Mary Beth were broken up. And, reality check, Reagan was never your girlfriend.” 

“Hold on a damn second,” Nana cut in, scratching at her head. “Let an old lady catch up. Are you saying there was no infidelity?” Charlie shook her head and Nana started to laugh. “Why didn’t you just tell me that? This didn’t have to become a big thing at all.” 

* * *

Anyone But Her ©2019 by Erica Lee

Published by

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Erica Lee published her first sapphic romance book in 2017 and now has a collection of over twenty published works. She lives in Pennsylvania with her wife, son, bunny, dog, and a chinchilla who is much more famous than her (but still won’t promote her books).

OFF THE MENU BY ALAINA ERDELL

Blurb:

In less than 48 hours, reality TV sensation Restaurant Redo and its gorgeous host will arrive to film in chef Taylor Mobley’s kitchen…and she just found out.

Fixer Erin Rasmussen has a reputation for saving failing restaurants with her take-no-crap attitude. She gets the job done on time, under budget, and millions of viewers tune in to watch her do it.

The fine dining restaurant Taylor works for has some serious problems and management doesn’t want her input. It’s time to leave. But how is she supposed to find a new position when a TV host with delusions of grandeur keeps painting her as a problem chef? Taylor refuses to play nice with Erin, especially on camera. They make each other’s blood boil, which is why it’s even more annoying that they can’t manage to keep their hands off each other.

Erin only cares about entertaining viewers. Taylor is unprofessional and immature. Or at least that’s what they each think. As the cameras roll and their careers hang in the balance, will Erin and Taylor make the jump from enemies to lovers?

Tell us about this scene:

In this scene, Erin, the host of the popular television show Restaurant Redo, has offered to help the restaurant's chef, Taylor, in the kitchen. Filming hasn't been going great, and she'd decided they need a change of pace. Things heat up a bit.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I chose this scene because of the double entendres and Erin's running inner monologue. Taylor and Erin are beginning to add physical touches to show their attraction, all while in the middle of a busy kitchen. It's shows the excitement during first times being near someone, touching them in small ways, and hoping they're feeling the same.

* * *

Excerpt:

Erin circled through the kitchen and collected quite the mass of vegetable peelings, onion papers and ends, and stalks and leaves that weren’t otherwise used in dishes. It gave her a nice way to chat with each of the different prep and line cooks. She sorted the scraps, not finding anything besides the trimmings of some red beets that couldn’t be used, and added them to her warming pot.

Taylor, who had been keeping an eye on her progress while portioning and weighing ahi tuna steaks, washed and dried her hands. “Now, all those scraps are great, but we need to fortify the stock a bit. Let’s go to the walk-in.”

Erin followed her. Taylor picked up a plastic tote as she passed Metro racks stacked full of all sizes of containers and pans. Inside the walk-in, they gathered celery, carrots, parsley, and thyme. From dry storage, they picked up onions and garlic. They chose bay leaves and black peppercorns from a shelf of what looked like hundreds of labeled deli containers of spices.

Erin unloaded the vegetables. “This is sort of like making soup.” She studied the carrots, celery, and onions in front of her.

Taylor looked at her with surprise. “The French start almost every soup and many other dishes with celery, carrots, and onion. It’s a classic combination.” And then it happened. She smiled at Erin, her eyes lighting up. She looked impressed.

It was a nice smile. No, it was a lovely smile. It was filled with such warmth and openness that Erin knew she wanted to see it again.

“Give your vegetables a rough chop like this.” Taylor picked up a knife and cut a carrot as an example. “They don’t have to be small or uniform. The stock will simmer for hours.” She handed over the knife, careful to turn the blade toward herself, and offered Erin the handle.

Erin began to chop the carrot into pieces. “What about the garlic? How much?”

“Cut the head of garlic in half and drop it in. The more you cut it, the more you damage the cell walls, and the stronger it will taste. We want it to be subtle.”

“What about salt?”

“No, don’t add salt because the stock will reduce, and we risk it being too salty. We season each dish to taste.” Taylor turned to answer a question from one of her line cooks.

Erin enjoyed the simplicity of the task. There was something meditative about chopping the vegetables. It had been stressful being holed up in the office for so long. It was nice they could focus on something besides annoying each other. She felt a hand on the small of her back. It had been warm but fleeting.

Taylor set a piece of cheesecloth and some twine next to her. “Put your herbs in this and tie it up. Don’t drop it in the pot yet. We’ll do that a bit later.”

There was no need for her to speak at a normal volume, even with the hum of the busy kitchen around them. She spoke mere inches from Erin’s ear. Had Taylor’s warm breath washed across her ear and neck, or had she imagined it? So much for meditation. Her momentary peace had been banished by a single touch and a few whispered words. A touch that had sent shivers up her spine to her scalp.

She shook her head as if the motion might clear her thoughts. Thoughts like how Taylor seemed pleasant while in her element. Perhaps they’d reached a détente. 

She dropped the vegetables into the pan and stirred the mixture with a long metal spoon. Soon, the water boiled, and she could feel the steam on her face.

“No, no, no.” Taylor reached around her and turned the flame to low. “Never let it boil. It’ll make the stock cloudy. Don’t stir it, either. Push all the vegetables so they’re submerged, like this.” With her hand over Erin’s hand and her other hand resting on Erin’s hip, she showed her.

Erin felt surrounded, the hot stove in front of her, the pan steaming in her face, and the heat from Taylor’s arm around her somehow warmer than the other two. As if realizing how close she was, Taylor dropped her arms. Erin chilled.

With what looked like a shy duck of her head, Taylor stepped back. Erin noticed she had a small tattoo below her ear. It was a chef’s toque, the classic white hat worn in formal kitchens. A lock of her hair had hidden it.

Erin left the spoon in the pot and touched Taylor’s tattoo. “That’s pretty. How perfect,” she murmured. Even as she fingered the inked skin, she wondered what she was doing.

White ringed Taylor’s irises. She cleared her throat, and pink spots dotted both cheeks. “Thanks. I have other tattoos, but you can’t see them right now.”

A jolt shot through Erin. Right now? What did Taylor mean by that? Did she mean her clothing covered them at the moment, or was she suggesting that maybe Erin might see them at a future time? Good, God. She needed to cool down. Would someone find it strange if they found her standing in the walk-in cooler?

Taylor redirected the wayward conversation and pointed to the liquid in the pot.

“See? We don’t want it to boil. It takes time. We want it hot, but we have to take it slow. We need to have patience. What we’re going for is a gentle simmer. Low and slow.”

Were they still talking about stock? She had no idea. The temperature in the kitchen must have risen to a hundred degrees. Beads of sweat formed at her hairline. How did they work in this heat? She glanced around. Everyone else seemed fine. The conversation had leaped so far out of her comfort zone that she could barely function. She could have set the pot in her lap, and it would have continued to simmer. 

* * *

Off the Menu ©2023 by Alaina Erdell

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Alaina Erdell lives in Ohio with her partner and their three crazy but adorable cats. Prior to writing, she worked as a chef.

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I ALWAYS WILL BY JACQUELINE RAMSDEN

Blurb:

What happens when you get a second chance at first love?

When Alexandria met Hailey on their first day of secondary school, the last thing she was expecting was to become best friends with the chatty girl beside her. But friendship blossomed into first love, until different universities threatened to tear them apart.

Seventeen years later, Alexandria’s brother is set to marry one of Hailey’s employees, and their whirlwind romance drags Hailey and Alexandria back into each other’s lives.

Suddenly, all of the reasons they had for parting don’t seem compelling, and they can’t deny the attraction between them. But, with a wedding to plan, family in the way, and years of pain between them, will Hailey and Alexandria be brave enough to risk the hearts they’ve spent years protecting, or will they miss each other again?

I Always Will is an 80k second-chance, friends-to-lovers romance, featuring a return to hometown and the owner of a mashed potato bar. Content warnings for off-page homophobia, abusive family dynamics, including comments about weight, divorce, and off-page drinking/drunk behaviour.

Tell us about this scene:

Alexandria and Hailey met as children, became best friends, listened to mixed tapes and CDs together, fell in love, but, ultimately, were pressured into going their separate ways. Here, they've been back in each other's lives for a month, and Alexandria is presenting Hailey with a gift she's been creating for the last seventeen years.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I Always Will is very much about the impact that society and the people close to us have on us, how the narratives and examples we receive impact our willingness to act on our feelings and be our true selves. Hailey and Alexandria both had terrible examples of what being in love looked like. They also had everyone around them telling them they’d never last, so they both tried to walk away. This scene speaks to me because it’s about how all of that can be wrong. Love can, and does, last. The person you’re meant to be with can change and grow, but still be absolutely the right one for you. And there’s so much power in finally owning how you feel and sharing it.

With this scene, there’s something compelling to me about the fact that Alexandria made mixed CDs for Hailey. When they were young, that was Hailey’s thing, but, while they were apart, it was the only way Alexandria felt she could process what she still felt for Hailey. For me, it speaks to the ways we grow and adapt with the person we love. They creep inside our souls, and things that are so quintessentially them become part of us, too. Writing this was absolutely about the pair of them being part of each other, being on the same page, and being connected both in the past and in the present. That feels like love to me. It’s understanding the other person and communicating in a way that works for the two of you. It’s bearing your soul for them and hoping it will be received well. And it’s growing up enough to realise that the adults around you weren’t always right, and you have to forge your own path.

I think it’s the bravery and the love that they have for each other, alongside the hope and belief that someone will love you that much for so long, that made this the scene I simply had to choose as my favourite—it’s filled with messages I’ve needed to receive and learn.

* * *

Excerpt:

In the corner of the room was a large bag. Alexandria led them to it, pausing to take a deep breath before she let go of Hailey’s hand and reached inside.

She pulled out a box—navy blue and deep—and Hailey’s heart pounded painfully as she wondered what it was. She dared to dream but didn’t believe it until Alexandria handed it over and she pulled the lid off.

Two rows of CDs. Two rows of a million things Alexandria had wanted to say to her and never had the words or ability to do so. Two rows of covers written in Alexandria’s familiar handwriting, small doodles in the corners. Two rows of songs-upon-songs capturing all the things Alexandria felt for her. 

She felt herself tearing up as she placed the box on an antique sideboard and pulled out one of the CDs. The year in the top corner told her it was from 2011. So long ago now. So many years after they’d said goodbye to each other. And still, it was filled with love songs and longing. Familiar tracks they’d listened to together, and songs she’d heard alone and thought of Alexandria with. All of them filled her with such deep, desperate love, the kind of love that lasted a lifetime. It was the kind of love that sustained you, the kind that hurt when you thought about the time apart, but that came with the promise of better days ahead. 

She was fifteen again. Desperately in love with her best friend, doing anything she could to wrangle a future with her, but so scared of losing her that she didn’t know how to tell her. 

Except she wasn’t fifteen. She was thirty-five and she knew the pain, the loss, the emptiness without her. Even rejection wouldn’t hurt as much as the last seventeen years had. Not that she thought she would get rejected, but the thought spurred her on, it brought her the words she needed.

She placed the CD down on top of the others, her heart fluttering at the idea of listening to them together, of hearing the story of how each one came to be. 

She stepped closer to Alexandria. “Eighteen-year-old me was a fool.” She laughed tearfully. “Every version of me is a fool, but that one particularly. I let the best thing that ever happened to me go because I was so scared of losing you that admitting I wanted to keep you didn’t feel possible. It doesn’t make any sense, but you know what it was like. We heard over and over how it could never last, how young love was doomed to end. And I was a fool who listened to that instead of this.”

Alexandria laughed too, tears streaming down her face. “You weren’t the only one who listened.”

“I wish I hadn’t. I wish I hadn’t been so scared.”

“Me too.” She shook her head. The gorgeous waves her hair was styled into for today bounced as she did. “I was so afraid you didn’t really want me, that we were kids and it was just convenient. We were the only two out kids we knew. Everyone was so weird about queer people. And my parents insisted it would never last.”

“We’ve shown them,” Hailey said with faux bravado as she sniffled. “Look at us lasting longer than your parents.”

Alexandria dropped her head forward. “I’m not sure that counts.”

“Oh, it definitely counts.”

“You are ridiculous, Hailey Davis.” 

Alexandria was the most radiant, beautiful, perfect person Hailey had ever seen. How had she ever walked away from this for even one second?

“Maybe, but I’m a ridiculous person who loves you, who has loved you for more than half my life, who probably loved you from the minute Mrs. Rhone sat us together in maths class and you were nervous and funny and shy and uptight and so unbelievably perfect. You were my gay awakening and nothing has changed since the minute that happened. I’ve only ever loved you more—more than the day before, more than I ever thought possible, more than makes sense to anyone but us. It’s been you for twenty-four years and it’s going to be you for as long as I live.”

Alexandria was nodding along with everything she said and nothing had ever felt so good. “And even after that.”

Hailey was crying in earnest—they both were. This was everything she’d ever wanted. For seventeen years, she’d dreamt of this moment, she’d hoped that somewhere out there, Alexandria still loved her the way she loved Alexandria, and now, here they were. In love. Happy. Together. 

* * *

I Always Will ©2022 by Jacqueline Ramsden

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Jacqueline (she/they) is a genderqueer, demisexual author of sapphic stories, who enjoys tea and books.

Sign up here for Jacqueline Ramsden ’s author newsletter.

YOU MATTER BY JAZZY MITCHELL

Blurb:

Chrissy Kramer became pregnant during her senior year of high school and was abandoned by her parents, her boyfriend, and her friends. She became a loner, working hard to provide for her son. It was her and him against the world. She eventually earns a paralegal degree and works for a powerful female attorney, Reggie Esposito, a senior law partner at a leading Boston law firm.

Chrissy’s smitten from the beginning, but she refuses to jeopardize her job by acting on her feelings. When a disgruntled former client attempts to kill Reggie after she loses his lawsuit, Chrissy prevents him from shooting Reggie, but she’s hurt in the process. While Chrissy and her son, Ben, stay in Reggie’s home to recuperate, Chrissy’s connection with Reggie deepens, and they embark on a romantic relationship.

Tell us about this scene:

Chrissy attends the company holiday party Reggie hosts for her law firm, and while they share a dance, Reggie makes it clear that she wants to explore their feelings. To avoid any office impropriety, she offers Chrissy a paralegal position in a different division. Chrissy takes the position, removing the work constraints inherent with Reggie being her direct superior.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Over the last several months, Chrissy and Reggie have spent time together outside of work, growing closer. By the time the company holiday party occurs, Chrissy is finding it hard to hide her feelings. I loved writing the slow burn and the lead up to their first kiss, which occurs on the same night that they admit their feelings to each other and take steps to explore their feelings.

Chrissy sees herself as worthless and Reggie as out of her league. Her desires are pitted against her absolute need to provide for her son, and that means not giving in to her feelings—feelings she doesn’t believe are returned. So when Reggie makes it clear that her feelings are not one-sided, it changes the course of Chrissy’s life.

Can I say that I love their first kiss? It’s the culmination of months of feelings—of angst and fear and yearning and hunger. All those emotions are replaced with joy and hope. (And yeah, the hunger is still present, but now it feels the same way as when you sit at a table which is filled with all your favorite foods, knowing you’ll soon get to eat.) With this kiss comes the certainty that Reggie wants her, that she matters.

* * *

Excerpt:

Chrissy wonders how she’s still standing upright. She’s never seen that look in Reggie’s eyes or felt those magical fingers massaging her neck, making her tremble with each caress. I’m in over my head. 

“Will you stay over tonight?” Reggie asks, her lilting voice tempting Chrissy. She wants to say yes. She really does. 

“No, but I hope you’ll extend the offer again soon.” She hopes Reggie can hear the regret in her voice. 

Reggie nods. “We’ll plan it. Not too long from now.” 

“Not too long,” Chrissy repeats. I need some time to get this through my thick head. Reggie wants me. 

The song ends, and they move to the side of the dance floor, standing close. People approach in an informal line, saying their goodbyes to Reggie, thanking her for opening her home to them. Chrissy starts to inch away, wanting to give her privacy, but Reggie casually winds her arm around her waist. Chrissy doesn’t mind. 

When Cathy and David join them, David wiggles his eyebrows, making her laugh. “Cut it out, you nerd,” Chrissy grouses. 

Cathy leans in. “Does this mean what I think it means?” 

“God, I hope so,” Chrissy whispers back. “Otherwise I’m going to die of a broken heart.” 

“No one will be dying today,” Reggie whispers at them both, causing them to laugh. Reggie shoots a teasing smile at Chrissy, and she falls in love even more. 

They sit at a table, chatting about whatever comes to mind. It turns out Cathy knows everything about everyone at the firm. The entire time, Reggie holds Chrissy’s hand in her lap, stroking it with her thumb. They sneak looks at each other. Chrissy’s ecstatic. 

Attorney Hawk strolls up to the table, his wife’s hand securely tucked in the crook of his elbow. He’s a tall, thin man with a hooked nose and freckles. His dark brown hair is sprinkled with white, and his eyes are an unusual bluish green. His wife is at least a half a foot shorter than him, with dark brown eyes and long black hair. 

“Christina, have you met Afanc Hawk and his wife, Erin?” Reggie asks. 

“No. It’s nice to meet you both.” 

“This is your paralegal?” Seeing the gleam in Hawk’s eyes, Chrissy wonders what he knows. 

“Not for much longer,” Reggie answers. Her eyes rest on Chrissy for a moment, and her smile softens. 

Well, that answers that. 

“Good. I shall see you on January second. Enjoy your holidays.” He turns back to Reggie. “An excellent party, as always. The food was scrumptious. Most unfortunate.” He pats his flat stomach. 

“Oh, stop, you fool,” Erin chastises before delivering a kiss to his cheek. 

“Goodnight, all.” Hawk waves as they move away. 

“As much as I hate to say it, I should probably get Ben and leave soon.” Chrissy rises, and she watches as Reggie’s chin dips to her chest before she rises, too, lips pressed together. Chrissy wants to kiss the sad look away. 

“We’re going, too. Chrissy, we can drop you and Ben off on our way,” Cathy says. 

“You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all. It’s cold out. And David can go heat up the car.” 

“Jeez, thanks. Reggie, this was an excellent party. Have a good weekend.” Cathy stops David to deliver a chaste kiss before he walks away, whistling a tune Chrissy doesn’t recognize. 

“I’ll wait for you and Ben near the door.” She leans in to whisper to Chrissy, “And then you can tell me what Hawk meant.” She winks then goes to gather their coats. 

“Shall we?” Reggie says with a sigh.

Chrissy nods, sad they’re leaving, second-guessing her decision. They find Ben napping on the couch. As Chrissy goes to step in the room, Reggie blocks her way with a hand across the entryway. Tilting her head, Chrissy follows Reggie’s eyes upward and spots the sprig of mistletoe. Well, that’s gotta be safer than staying the night. Why am I being so careful when she’s gotten me a job in a different division and admitted she has feelings for me? She’s taken a big risk. It’s time I do, too. A slow smile inches across Chrissy’s face as she makes her decision, and heat unfurls in her belly. She turns toward Reggie and frames her cheeks with her hands, leaning in to capture plump, blood-red lips. 

Delivering a chaste kiss against impossibly soft lips, Chrissy takes her time memorizing their texture. She kisses her again, arousal building at how perfect Reggie feels. After a third soft kiss, she hears Reggie growl and takes that as her cue to press their lips together more firmly. She moves a hand to the back of Reggie’s head, sifting her fingers through silky locks as she nibbles on Reggie’s lower lip, and Chrissy swallows the resulting moan, opening her mouth to welcome Reggie’s tongue. Reggie’s hands pull her closer, and their tongues wrestle. 

I’m gonna pass out. She feels incredible. Tastes heavenly. Wine, chocolate, and mint. God, I’m lost. Chrissy whimpers, continuing to explore every inch of Reggie’s addictive mouth. After several minutes, the kisses wind down. Chrissy withdraws, resting her forehead against Reggie’s while trying to catch her breath. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long. It was worth the wait.” Reggie pulls back. “You are worth the wait, Christina Kramer.” 

“I don’t know how I got lucky enough to capture your attention. I’ve always felt worthless. Like I don’t matter to anyone. Ben’s the only one who cared, and that’s because I’m his mom.” Chrissy shrugs. 

“Well, you have me, and I’m not letting you go. It’ll be hard enough to let you leave tonight.” 

They smile, an understanding settling between them. Chrissy pulls Reggie in for a hug, breathing in her signature perfume before letting her go and walking over to where Ben is reclining. 

* * *

You Matter ©2019 by Jazzy Mitchell

Published by Desert Palm Press

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Jazzy Mitchell has warned others anything they say or do may appear in her next novel.. She has six published books and plans to write many more. Jazzy is the publisher for Launch Point Press, which produces books by, for, and about lesbian issues, culture, and circumstances.

THE WOMAN I FOUND IN ME BY JAMEY MOODY

Blurb:

One night changes everything or does it?

Ella Gallaher wants to be taken seriously. She has lived a privileged life, but there’s more to her than shopping all day and partying all night. She wants a second chance at life to show she can make a difference.

She is well on her way to a meaningful career when Gia Augustino comes to live with her Aunt Dru. Ella finds a friend in Gia who sees her for the woman she wants to be. However, Gia’s determined to put a little fun back into Ella’s too-serious life.

One night at an industry conference for work, Ella and Gia make a spur-of-the-moment decision and their world is suddenly upended. Have they gone too far?

Will they lose the hard-earned respect of their families? But more importantly, will they lose each other?

This is the third book in the Second Chance Series. You’ll see familiar faces and Ella will need them all to get her second chance. Each book can be read as a stand alone.

Tell us about this scene:

Ella and Gia have finally admitted their feelings to each other. They are in Las Vegas attending a work convention with Ella's coworkers, all staying in the same suite. They have decided to let their fears go and just see how it would feel to be together for the weekend. They've been out partying and wake up the next morning.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It's hard to choose one scene from any book, but this scene is actually how this book came about. From this scene I wrote the book around it. I imagined how fun it would be for two characters to wake up and not remember what happened the night before, but when you're in Vegas what do you think is going to happen?

I thought it would be amusing for it to play out as a dream that Gia has and turns out to be real. This scene ends the chapter and Gia is not too thrilled with Ella's final statement.

You'll have to get the book to read what happens next.

* * *

Excerpt:

 Gia felt herself smiling as they tried to be quiet. Ella bounced from one side of the hallway to the other and Gia kept hissing, “Shhhhhh!” Then she giggled. They closed the door and fell down on the bed still giggling. Then Ella turned to face Gia and said, “Kiss me, wife.”

Gia’s eyes shot open! She looked beside her and saw the hotel night stand. With her head on a swivel she looked the other direction and there was Ella sound asleep.

“Oh my God.” She breathed in deep then exhaled, trying to calm her beating heart. “It was a dream.” Gia smiled and chuckled. That’s when she noticed the dull thud that started in her forehead and was now progressing to a solid pound. She reached for the water bottle on the night stand and thanked whoever left it there before they passed out last night.

Last night? She was trying to piece together what they did after Marina and Dru came up to the suite, but it was all fuzzy. She noticed a piece of paper on the nightstand, picked it up, and read it.

“That can’t be right. El. Hey, El,” she said softly, nudging the sleeping Ella next to her. 

“Mmm,” Ella mumbled.

“Ella, wake up!” Gia urged her.

“I can’t,” she mumbled. “Something is sitting on my head.”

“My head is banging too. Here, drink some water.”

“I can’t raise my head. It weighs a ton.”

“Yes you can.” Gia couldn’t help but smile. She held the water to Ella’s mouth and she took a drink then fell back on the bed.

“What’s the matter?” she groaned.

“I had the weirdest dream. Do you remember what we did last night?”

“Mmm.”

“What did we do after the others came up to the suite?”

“We weren’t ready to go back so we went to the bar.” Ella yawned then covered her mouth. “Sorry. I’m sure I have the worst kind of morning breath.”

“Right. We got another drink. What next?” Gia sat a little taller and leaned against the headboard.

“Then we walked by the Red Ruby slot machine,” Ella mumbled. “Oh!” she said louder. Her eyes popped open. “We won the jackpot! Remember!”

“That’s right, we did!”

“You kept fucking with me and said I wasn’t any fun, so I said let’s spend it!” Ella grinned up at Gia.

“What next?”

“We were walking down the Strip and laughing and you had your arm in mine.” Ella giggled. “You were so cute, G.”

“Oh, yeah! You kept calling me G! You never call me G.”

“I do when I’m thinking about you,” Ella said softly. “What about this dream?”

“Oh, well. We did those things in the dream. We were walking and laughing and wanted another drink. You wanted to spend the money on something touristy. That’s when we left the hotel!”

“I said that in your dream?” Ella slurred her words. “Cause I said that for real. I remember.” Ella laughed. “You laughed at me for saying touristy. Remember?”

“What else do you remember?”

Ella took a deep breath and blew it out. “Oh my God, my mouth is so fucking dry!”

Gia handed her the water and she raised her head to drink.

“Let’s see. We were laughing and walking and wanted a drink and then we stopped.” Ella drew her brows together. “I can’t remember. Oh wait.” Ella sat up abruptly. “We stopped at one of those 24-hour chapels!” She looked over at Gia. “Was that in your dream?”

Gia slowly nodded. 

Ella’s eyes widened. She looked down at her hands and realized she was playing with a gold band on her left ring finger. She quickly stopped, grabbed Gia’s left hand, and saw a matching ring.

“Oh my God, G! We didn’t get married, did we?”

Gia reached for the paper on the nightstand and handed it to Ella. “Yeah, I think we did. It wasn’t a dream after all.”

Ella looked at the marriage license and saw their names on it. She couldn’t believe her eyes. “No, no, no, no, no, no, NO! How did this happen? How could we do this?”

“Calm down, El. We'll figure it out.”

Ella looked over at Gia. If her eyes were any wider they’d pop out of her head. “Calm down? That’s the song that started all this!”

“What?” Gia asked, glancing over at Ella.

“That song we danced to. We were supposed to calm down because our hearts were racing and felt so, so…”

“What, El? You felt so?” Gia prompted.

Ella exhaled a frustrated sigh. “If we got married, did we?” Ella looked under the covers and saw that they still had their panties and bras on. “Thank God!”

* * *

The Woman I Found In Me ©2023 by Jamey Moody

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Jamey Moody writes heartwarming sapphic romance. For Jamey, falling into a sapphic romance is an adventure. Her characters are strong women, living mostly everyday storylines with a few bumps in the road, but they get their happily-ever-after. She lives in Texas with her little terrier Leo.

Sign up here for Jamey Moody ’s author newsletter.

THE HUMMINGBIRD SANCTUARY BY ERIN ZAK

Blurb:

Enjoy your vacation at the Hummingbird Sanctuary, Colorado’s hottest resort destination. Come for the mountains, stay for the charm, and enjoy the drama as Olive, Eleanor, and Harriet figure out their lives, their loves, and the meaning of true friendship.

Owning and operating the Hummingbird Sanctuary was supposed to be the best time of Olive Zyntarski’s life. She was going to tackle the future with eyes wide open and forget about her guilty conscience. All that changes when a chance meeting with a mysterious new guest has Olive’s long-buried secrets bubbling to the surface.

As marketing director, Eleanor Fitzwallace knows how to present everything in its best light, everything except her nonexistent love life. When her high school heartbreak unexpectedly saunters into the Sanctuary’s restaurant, Eleanor’s determined to ignore her. She wants real love, and people don’t change, do they?

After hitting rock bottom, Harriet Marshall made a promise to herself: no more one-night stands that make her feel bad about herself. She’s determined to turn her life around, and that means focusing on keeping the Sanctuary’s restaurant and bar hip, trendy, and booked solid. So, of course, she meets the most gorgeous woman ever, and everything changes.

Tell us about this scene:

Eleanor has relented and is having drinks with Mabel. It's their first time actually communicating and going over what happened in high school.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene is everything I love about writing women. Capturing their deep breaths, the way their eyes move when they’re asked uncomfortable questions, and how they fidget with the weirdest things in an effort to gain courage and confidence. I also really fell in love with Eleanor as I wrote her. And Mabel, I wanted to give her a chance to tell Eleanor how sorry she was, how awful she felt after the reality of high school faded away. There is something so special about second-chance romances, especially when one of the women in the romance have completely re-written herself. Growing and expanding and realizing how wonderful you are as a human being is so important to me and Eleanor did it with style and grace. And writing Eleanor seeing Mabel realize she’s different yet exactly the same was so much fun.

* * *

Excerpt:

I watch Mabel take a breath. “Things didn’t work out with Bobby, hmm?”

She shakes her head with a look of regret mixed with sadness. “Not even a little bit. I tried, but it was a flop from the start. I don’t know why he thought things were great. They weren’t. At all.”

“Why did you marry him, then?”

“Who the hell knows?” She lets out a lighthearted laugh. “I guess I was hoping I would grow out of—”

“Being a lesbian?”

“God, yeah, I guess so.” She’s picking at the napkin under her drink. 

“Little did I know that I would never grow out of it.”

“It’s a lifetime phase.”

“Tell my mom that.” Her voice shakes, and I can see plain as day the 

scared teenager who broke my heart for no other reason than the fear of 

disappointment. “She’s much better now, more supportive. Even belongs to a PFLAG chapter.” 

“How the hell are your parents, by the way? Betty loved me.” 

“Yeah, she loved you until she started putting together why we had so many sleepovers.” 

“If only she knew how happy I made you.”

“Oh, I told her.”

I practically choke. “What?”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “End of senior year when we weren’t speaking...” 

She trails off, eyes on her drink, stirring it with the straw. “I was such a mess. Trying to love Bobby. Trying to understand why my parents were okay with me marrying him at such a young age. I told Mom that I wasn’t happy, that I was happier when you were in my life.” She shakes her head, the emotion bubbling to the surface in her voice. “The marriage didn’t last long.” 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing, and yet, a thousand little things.” She lifts her head, and she is no longer sad but proud. “I ended up applying to be a transfer student to NYU’s journalism program. I got in, and I never looked back.” Her face softens. “Except when I thought about you.” 

“Mabel,” I whisper. 

“I lied earlier when I said I was going to look you up. I knew you were in Chicago. I knew you graduated with honors from Northwestern and then top of your master’s class at U of C.” She seems nervous. She thinks I’m going to be mad at her, and I probably should be, but I’m honored. And why? Why does it feel amazing to know she kept track of me? When she’s the reason I was so brokenhearted to begin with? “The only thing I didn’t know was that you were here. Why change your name to Fitzwallace?” 

I shrug. “I needed a change. And Eleanor Fitzwallace has a nice ring to it.” 

“Ellie?” 

“What?” I am exasperated by the questions. “I don’t know, okay? It’s my mother’s maiden name and...it was easier to move forward with a brand-new name than to go back to one that had nothing but pain associated with it.” 

“Wow.”

“Well? Are we being honest here, or should we lie to each other? 

Contrary to popular opinion, you’re not the only person who has broken me.” I empty the last swallow of my drink and motion for another. Thankfully, Heidi is hovering like a vulture. The fact that these two women —one who wouldn’t give me the time of day when I was a kid and the other who won’t give me the time of day now—are both acting jealous makes me want to laugh. And scream. Life has a way of dishing up some interesting things to digest. 

“You’re right. I don’t want to start with lies.” She places a hand on my knee. “I want to tell you something.” 

“Oh God.” 

“No, it’s not bad. I mean, it’s not good, but it’s not bad.” She takes a sip, lips wrapped around the biodegradable straw. Every fiber of my being wants to be that straw. “You know how everyone bullied you your senior year?” 

“Nope. We are not doing this.”

“Ellie, please.”

“Why do you keep wanting to talk about this shit?”

“Because I need to tell you this.” Her hand lands on my forearm, and my eyes are drawn to her fingers, the gold ring on her index finger, the manicured nails, and my heart clenches. 

“Fine.”

“When I was at NYU, I ran into Jessalyn. Remember her?”

“How could I forget? Queen of the mean girls.”

“Yeah,” she says, followed by a sigh. “Well, I stupidly went for drinks with her, thinking things would have changed.”

I hold my hand up. “You’re telling me I’m supposed to believe she got into NYU?”

“Hell no.” She laughs. “No. She was there on vacation with some of her rich bitch friends. I don’t think she made it to college.”

“I was going to say. Anyway, carry on.”

“She started going on and on about Bobby and how she’s been spending time with him. And then she admitted to pulling the information about you from Bobby while we were in school. Apparently, he could never stay away from her, even when he and I were together.”

She sighs as she stirs her drink slowly. “I wish I wouldn’t have thought I could get past...” 

“Mabel?” I say, and she looks over. “We need to move past all of that. Okay?” 

“You’re not mad at me?”

“I’ve been mad at you for years. I’m ready to stop.”

Her deep breath causes her chest to rise and fall. Her eyes are red- rimmed, as if she’s seconds from crying. At the bar. With Heidi only ten steps away. “I cannot begin to tell you how relieved I am.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Listen,” I start and prop my feet on the rung of her stool. My legs are brushing hers, and there is something so erotic about the sensation that flares inside me. “I’ve grown since high school. And that includes realizing that everything happens for a reason. Natalie leaving almost killed me. But then this place happened. And I found solace in things I never thought would be comforting.” 

“Like?” 

She seems to be hanging on every word, and the glee of witnessing that spurs me on. “Like the mountains. Nature and seeing wildlife when we drive east to go skiing or hiking. I’ve seen a mama bear and her cubs, and I realized that life, in all its uncertainties and misgivings and ups and downs, has gone on. Even when I didn’t think mine could. Hell, even when I didn’t want my life to go on, it still did. And I’m really glad.” 

* * *

The Hummingbird Sanctuary ©2022 by Erin Zak

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Erin Zak resides in Florida, away from the snow and cold, near the Gulf coast with her family. She enjoys the sun, sand, writing, and spoiling her cocker spaniels, Hanna and Eleanor.

Erin's first book, Falling into Her, was a Goldie finalist for Best Debut Novel. Breaking Down Her Walls and Create a Life to Love were both Lammy finalists for Lesbian Romance.

Sign up here for Erin Zak ’s author newsletter.

ANOTHER STUPID LOVE SONG BY MIRANDA MACLEOD AND EM STEVENS

Blurb:

Maxine Gardner is a rock and roll legend who hasn’t had a hit in years. She’s on a mission to get her old band back together for a once in a lifetime reunion tour that could save her floundering career. The problem? One band member is dead and the other hates her guts. To get this tour off the ground, Max must put her fate in the hands of a younger woman who could easily steal the spotlight from her for good.

Jade Weathers is a gifted musician whose mother and aunt were founding members of one of the hottest girl bands of all time. Following her mother’s untimely death, Jade’s overprotective aunt is determined she choose a stable career with the local symphony. But Jade was born to be a rock star. She’s willing to do whatever it takes to live her dream… even partner with the one person she shouldn’t trust. The woman who ruined her mom’s career.

Their agreement is supposed to be nothing but a means to an end. Yet the more time Max and Jade spend making music together, the harder it becomes to ignore the attraction crackling beneath every note. Is it possible everything they’ve believed about the other is completely wrong? This tour could lead to true love, or it could tear the band apart... along with their hearts.

How much will they be willing to sacrifice for success?

Tell us about this scene:

With a few days off from their cross-country tour, veteran rock star Max and newcomer Jade have the opportunity to visit a recording studio in New Orleans. Desperate to re-energize her sagging career, Max intends to record some demo tracks for a new album. The session is a complete failure until Jade helps her reach deep into herself to find what was missing. They both connect over the abandonment and loneliness of their childhoods. The result is something Max has never experienced before and didn’t know she was capable of producing.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

What makes Max and Jade’s relationship really different from anything either of us have written before is the way they connect over music. It’s like a language that only they can speak, and the emotion in the music is impossible to separate from the emotions they feel for one another.

Even though Max is fifteen years older than Jade and a legend in the music industry, in a lot of ways, Jade is the more mature of the two. Max’s early success led to a sheltered life in some ways, whereas Jade had to grow up fast to cope with her mother’s illness and death. This makes them equals on the emotional field. Jade hasn’t had the luxury of burying her pain under the glitz of a rock and roll lifestyle. This scene in particular shows how Jade is leading Max toward her own greatness in a way Max couldn’t do alone.

There’s also something really enjoyable about writing characters who believe they will be able to stick to an agreement where their hearts are concerned. The fact they honestly think they can control the passion between them and keep it to “just one time” or “just for the tour” is so adorably clueless. As writers, there’s nothing more fun than showing your characters how wrong they are when it comes to resisting love.

* * *

Excerpt:

The biggest difference between this song and a standard Matchstick tune, Jade realized, was the speed. Max was slowing this one way down, her voice low and mournful. The hurt oozed out of Max, the festering wound finally coming out into the light to begin the healing. The beauty of it was indescribable.

After several takes, Max came back to Jade, exhausted and defeated. “We can’t use this one.”

“It’s really fucking good, though,” Jade argued, excitement over what they’d accomplished coursing through her.

“But it’s about my dad, and I just…” There were tears in Max’s eyes, threatening to spill over. “This isn’t what I want people to know about me.”

Jade nodded, taking Max’s hand. “I get it. I do. The song I was working on about my mom is like that, too. It would kill me for the fans to hear, for Cindy to know how I felt sometimes. But, Max, this song is good.”

Max let out a tortured sigh. “I know. It’s maybe the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Let’s not give up yet.” Jade checked the time, chewing her lower lip as she wrestled with a plan. “It’s ten o’clock now. Let’s keep going until midnight. We’ll change the words together, shroud the meaning. But it’s too good to let this go.”

Max swallowed, lifting her drooping chin as if with renewed purpose. “Okay.”

They worked nonstop for two hours, reaching into the depths of their souls to fit words to Max’s music. It was so close, but not quite there. At one point, Jade grabbed the guitar. The melody she’d been humming in the bus flew from her fingertips to the strings, changing with each time through, blending Max’s original melody with the reworked lyrics until they reached a seamless whole that was entirely different from what Max had created before.

Jade was breathless as Max played it through for her, joining in as they reached the chorus. “This is it.”

“Let’s record it,” Max said, finally seeming at peace. “It may or may not work in the end, but for right now, it will help get the demons out. For both of us.”

Jade went into the booth and queued up the recording. It began to run, the red light flashing for active, and she made her way back into the studio.

Max reached for her guitar, picking the first progression before singing. The resonance of her voice turned Jade’s emotions into a powerful tornado inside. With a nod, Max signaled for Jade to join in, and they sang the song they’d created together.

It wasn’t perfect. Jade could spot transitions she’d want to smooth over, but the instrumentals layered in her mind. She could hear the drum track she’d add, the bass line…

Then it was finished.

When Jade didn’t move or speak, Max went into the booth. The red recording line flicked off. Jade could still see it behind her eyelids. The haunting hollowness, the way Max put it all on the line, showing her invisible scars, like the stain on the T-shirt. The same way she had done.

Jade crossed the studio cautiously. She crouched in front of Max and, before she understood what was happening, Jade reached up to cup Max’s cheek. Max covered Jade’s hand, a strong, calloused thumb brushed away tears falling from Max’s eyes, and Jade couldn’t tell if Max knew the source. It was like she was having an out-of-body experience, but also wanting to comfort herself.

“You should know,” Max said, “that I’m pretty pissed at you right now.”

A startled Jade rocketed up. “What? Why?”

“Because that was my first song that’s truly me, and it’s fucking golden. Because of you. I’ve known me for a long time, and I’ve never been able to plumb my soul in four decades. You’ve known me for a hot second and see me inside and out.”

An unexpected laugh erupted from Jade. “It’s my thing. Seeing people.” Jade rushed to add, “Don’t make a Sixth Sense joke. Not right now. I feel like I ran a damned marathon. So much effort. You must be even more exhausted.”

“Yes and no.” Max’s gaze bordered on searing.

Jade returned to cupping Max’s cheek. Max, in turn, kissed Jade’s palm, making her breath hitch, as if that was the most erotic move.

The problem with vulnerability, with peeling apart layers she hadn’t even realized were there for her and Max, was the two of them needing comfort from the other who truly understood what lay beneath. Exposure required warmth afterward, a blanket to make them safe again.

“We can’t,” Max whispered. “We said that one time was the only time.” But her other hand found its way to Jade’s thigh.

“Yes, we can.” Jade sucked in a breath, then slid onto the floor, catching Max’s hands before the woman could pull away. “I’m not asking for forever. We don’t have to tell anyone.”

She opened her legs and tugged gently. Max moved between them. Jade’s thighs cradled Max, and she reached up to bury her fingers in blonde curls, lightly tugging at the strands. “You’re clearly hurting,” Jade said. “This is just you reeling from loss.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Jade leaned close and nuzzled Max’s jawline. The smell of sunscreen and sweat but also the amber scent of expensive shampoo filled her nose. “If it’s for the tour, only temporary, then what does it matter? I’ve been feeling good for the first time since Mom started really being sick. Is it so wrong that I want to keep feeling good as long as possible?”

Strong fingers clamped into her thighs above her knees before releasing, palms smoothing up toward her waist. “I don’t want to fuck you over,” Max whispered.

“Then don’t fuck me over.” Jade nipped at an earlobe, her pulse racing as Max groaned. “Just fuck me. Fuck me, and make music with me until this is finished.”

* * *

Another Stupid Love Song ©2022 by Miranda MacLeod and Em Stevens

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Miranda MacLeod lives in New England and writes heartfelt romances and romantic comedies featuring witty and charmingly flawed women who love women. Before becoming a writer, she spent way too many years in graduate school, made costumes for professional theater and film, and held temp jobs in just about every office building in downtown Boston.

Sign up here for Miranda MacLeod’s author newsletter.

Em Stevens was shortlisted for most likely to succeed. She’s a best-selling author of queer fiction. When she isn’t writing she enjoys all that NC has to offer, from mountains to the sea, wine and distilleries. Em and company, including two furry friends, reside in Raleigh.

Sign up here for Em Stevens ’s author newsletter.

BECOMING BY JOURDYN KELLY

Blurb:

Can a Dominant allow herself to be dominated? Can a woman who defies authority allow herself to submit? Will love come out on top in the end?

You met Rebecca and Cass in Fifty Shades of Pink. Now get Rebecca's perspective of their first meeting and see her journey to BECOMING Mistress.

Rebecca Cuinn lost control of her life once before, and she spent many years learning how to take it back. As Mistress and owner of an exclusive BDSM club, Rebecca now had control by the balls. She wasn’t about to lose it again by falling in love. Unfortunately, her heart wasn’t playing by Rebecca’s rules. She always was a sucker for androgynous, sexy women. But did the one that threatened to make her break all her rules have to be so young?

Cass Giles defied authority. So, when she was dragged to a BDSM sex club for a bachelorette party, she refused to let go of her judgments and have fun. No way she would submit to someone whose sole purpose was to hurt you. Just wasn’t her scene. That is until that “scene” included the mysterious Mistress. Now Cass was willingly breaking the rules just for a taste of Mistress’s punishment. But it wasn’t just Mistress she wanted. She wanted the woman underneath the mask. And she would do everything she could to prove they were meant to be.

Tell us about this scene:

Mistress explains to Cassidy what BDSM means to her. And why she thinks the sub has more control than the Dom.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is one of the scenes I see people highlight the most. I also asked Melissa Tereze, who is the biggest fan of Becoming, which scene she would choose. This was the one. For me, I can't choose one scene from my books. It's like choosing your favorite kid. That's why I delegated the task out!

* * *

Excerpt:

“You’re associating the feel of this,” she whipped Cassidy on the side, “with pain and humility. It doesn’t have to be like that.” Mistress took Cassidy’s “cock” in her hand. She realized then that it was double-sided, and one side was snugly inside her Sub. Perfect. “I want you to associate this, with this.” With deliberate movements, Mistress jerked Cassidy’s cock while flicking her nipples smartly with the whip.

“Fuck!”

Mistress leaned in close. “Did your pussy contract when I did that?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Cassidy panted.

She’s beginning to understand. Mistress continued to stroke in slow, torturous strokes as she kept the whip moving sensually across Cassidy’s nipples. Cassidy’s hip began to move in rhythm sending electric currents to already aching parts of Mistress’s body. As Cassidy’s breathing became erratic, Mistress knew she was close. She increased the speed of her strokes, and at just the right moment, she snapped the whip, hard, across Cassidy’s breasts.

Cassidy yelled and thrashed. Legs tried to close but were held open by ropes. The vision proved to be Mistress’s breaking point. She needed to be fucked by Cassidy, or she would explode. And not in the good way. Her eyes were trained on that cock that she could practically feel inside of her right now, and she licked her lips in anticipation.

“In my opinion,” Mistress began, warring with herself to give in to everything she wanted. “People have it all wrong. Even those who are deeply into this stuff.” Cassidy had a charmingly confused look on her face, so Mistress explained. “This Dom/Sub lifestyle. Everyone assumes that the Sub is weak and that it is the Dom that is in control.”

She chuckled lightly when Cassidy looked pointedly at her wrists and ankles and raised a brow. She gave her a playful flick of the whip but located it very precisely. Cassidy moaned with pleasure as the fringe caught her clit.

“One word, Cassidy. That’s all it takes from you that could stop all of this. You have the power to leave me wanting. And, oh god, do I want you. If you could only feel how wet I am for you.” Another groan from Cassidy nearly had Mistress fidgeting. “If you break the rules, you get punished, but there’s always a reward for you at the end. If I do something you don’t like, one word and it’s over for me. No rewards. So, you see? You have the power here. You are allowing me to do these things to you. I wouldn’t be able to do them without your permission.”

Mistress started unfastening her corset. There was no denying what she wanted from Cassidy. She made the rules. If she wanted to fuck someone, that was her right. She didn’t think Cassidy would object. The corset comes off, and her full breasts spill out, captivating Cassidy. Of course, Mistress didn’t mind having her rosy-tipped nipples stared at by this woman. It made her feel wanted. Yet, even though she made the rules, there were still rules. She paused in taking off her leather pants until Cassidy finally looked up at her.

“Paying attention?” she smirked.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You’re not to move. If you move your hips, I will stop. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Cassidy responded after a second’s hesitation.

That was as convincing as my understanding of what’s happening here, Mistress thought sardonically. Nevertheless, she continued to undress until she stood in front of Cassidy, completely naked. It was the first time since Samantha since anyone had seen her like this. That would have been more daunting if Cassidy didn’t look as though she could start drooling at any moment. Mistress never stopped taking care of her body and was proud of her femininity. As long as Cassidy didn’t focus on Mistress’s back, things would be okay. She was quite confident she could keep Cassidy’s attention elsewhere.

Mistress crawled up on the bed until she was straddling Cassidy. She knew the woman beneath her could feel the heat radiating from her center and praised her silently for her control.

A soft touch started on Cassidy’s cheek and moved down her neck. She tweaked Cassidy’s nipples hard before moving her hand down between them. Taking the ‘cock’ in her hand, she guided it to her opening.

“Don’t move,” she reminded Cassidy before sinking down onto her. She was so wet the dildo slid in easily, and she moaned in ecstasy. Cassidy moaned in response but still managed not to move. Impressive.

* * *

Becoming ©2018 by Jourdyn Kelly

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Jourdyn Kelly attributes her passion for writing to her mother, who always surrounded them with books. After losing her mother from Alzheimer’s complications, Jourdyn started her company, Jaded Angels, as a tribute to her. A portion of the proceeds goes to alz.org in her mother’s memory.

Sign up here for Jourdyn Kelly ’s author newsletter.

BUSINESS OF THE HEART BY CLAIRE FORSYTHE

Blurb:

Abby Archer should be content. Her coffee shop, Haze, is thriving, and she has a great group of friends. There's just one thing missing: love. Despite past betrayals, Abby hasn't given up on finding the one, waiting with increasing impatience to experience the sparks she's always dreamed of.

Lexi Finn lives for her career. At least her job won't break her heart. Unlike Abby, she's most definitely not searching for the one or anyone for that matter. Avoiding relationships isn't all that difficult when she's become so skilled at keeping people at a distance.

So, imagine Lexi's shock when walking into Haze she feels instant attraction and an unshakeable connection with Abby. Abby has a picture of her perfect woman in her mind, and it certainly isn't the intolerable Lexi Finn. When a hopeless romantic meets a tough-as-nails cynic, they'll need to overcome the wounds of the past to discover that their hearts are the most important business of all.

Tell us about this scene:

Abby accidentally spilled coffee over Lexi in her coffee shop, and has gone to creative lengths to apologise to Lexi. In this scene, Lexi receives the unexpected apology.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I've chosen this scene as my favourite because it's the turning point in the relationship between the two main characters, Abby and Lexi. Although there has already been attraction on both sides, this is the first time that they have a positive interaction. It kick starts the beginning of a growing relationship between the two women, so it is a vital point in the story.

I think Abby's personality comes across really well in the note/text exchanges, and we get to see what a warm character she is—she is always openly warm, and I think that is highlighted by her interaction with Lexi.

We also get a glimpse of what lies underneath Lexi's tough exterior, and we begin to see her character develop. Even though Lexi makes excuses to herself for why she wants to talk to Abby—it's obvious she can't resist her own attraction as she welcomes the back and forth.

It's the first time we get to see Lexi come out of her shell a little—and she shows that she has a light-hearted side too, which would have been unexpected before this point.

* * *

Excerpt:

I reached down for my coffee and something on the side of the usual Haze cup caught my eye. There was a sad face drawn on the side. I eyed it suspiciously and turned the cup round to reveal the rest of the doodled image invading my coffee cup. 

Below the sad face was an arrow, pointing to the bottom of the cup. I could feel my forehead scrunching in frustration, as well as curiosity as to where the puzzle would lead me next. I lifted the cup above my head, careful not to spill the contents in the process, and found a tiny little piece of paper taped to the bottom of the cup. Maybe this was meant for someone else. I undid the note from the cup and took a sip to ensure my cappuccino was inside. Mmm. My usual order. I slowly unfolded the note, wondering why my heart had begun to speed up a little in anticipation.

I took a guess that you are the same quad-shot cap drinker that I assaulted with coffee last night. Hopefully, I’m correct, or I’m going to have even more embarrassment on my hands. I feel really bad about ruining your suit, as well as how I acted afterward, and I hope you will accept my apology. Our customers are especially important to us, and you have been a loyal customer for some time now, and I wanted to clear the air. I have written my number at the bottom and am happy if you want to contact me about covering dry cleaning expenses to make it up to the suit. It’s a very nice suit. The suit deserves to live.

Best wishes,

Abby (the clumsy barista)

I reread the letter three times before I realized that I was chuckling. The clumsy barista, Abby, I corrected myself, was witty. I glanced down at the phone number written on the bottom of the note. I had to appreciate her creativity in making amends for our little mishap the previous evening. I looked over to my own phone which was lying on the desk beside the note. I wasn’t sure how many times my eyes darted between the phone and the number. She only wanted to apologize after all. It wasn’t as if it was a come-on or anything romantic. Just because I couldn’t stop thinking about her gorgeous eyes and amazing body didn’t mean that she was flirting with me. In fact, she was probably terrified for her job right now. I never did get the chance to speak to her and assure her that I wouldn’t be making a complaint about the whole thing. It was only humane to text her and put the poor woman’s mind at ease. I reached for my phone and opened a blank message and stared at it for what felt like minutes, trying to find the words for an appropriate response.

Be assured, your note found its way to the right person. Your apology is accepted, and I hope you will accept mine in return for the way that I behaved. You will not lose a customer here. Tell me, do you prefer to be referred to as Abby or the clumsy barista? Also, no compensation required for the dry cleaning, and I promise to do everything I can to save said suit.

Lexi (the suit victim)

I read my response three times and nodded. It sounded light and articulate. I raised an eyebrow at myself that I threw in a question to allow the opportunity for a response. There was nothing wrong in indulging a little in a couple of texts to a beautiful woman. Maybe it would stop the daydreaming, get it out of my system. It was only when I heard the ping from my phone that I realized I’d been dragged into a state of that daydreaming once again. I jumped forward to grab the beeping contraption, unable to wait to read the response.

Thank goodness! One embarrassment in a week is more than enough. Thank you for your understanding and of course I accept your apology. You were a complete ass though :). As much as I’ve always wanted a cool nickname, I think I’ll stick to Abby for the time being. Please send the suit my best.

I was smiling again. I had just been called a complete ass, yet I felt no offence or annoyance. Instead, I felt happy about the unexpected texting exchange. Excited even. I leaned back in my chair and continued with my lunch. There had been no opening for a conversation on Abby’s end. Abby. The brown-eyed beauty and I were now on first-name terms. And I’d signed it Lexi. No one ever called me Lexi anymore. Not since my ex, who I refused to think about. Lexi was my personal name. My life was all business where I was addressed as Alexis on occasion or more commonly, Miss Finn. I was not on Lexi terms with any people in my life. Yet, it had naturally materialized as my signature to Abby. Interesting. I chose not to analyze this any further to save myself from a freak-out from a momentary weakness. This entire texting lark was momentary weakness. Mid-bite of my sandwich I heard my phone ping again. I looked down.

Lexi or the suit victim? (The victim one would be a little dramatic, but I’ll honor your preference.)

I laughed out loud, nearly choking on my lunch in the process. And there it was. She was carrying on with the conversation. My Abby supply hadn’t been cut off yet. And although I knew I should nip this in the bud, I wasn’t ready to finish our interaction yet.

* * *

Business of the Heart ©2022 by Claire Forsythe

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Claire is from Belfast, Northern Ireland. She owns a coffee shop which keeps her both busy and well topped up on caffeine (flat whites specifically). She started following her dream of writing during the pandemic, and now that she's started, she doesn't want to stop.

WELCOME TO RUBY'S BY KC LUCK

Blurb:

Allie Dawson and her group of friends consider Ruby’s their second home. The bar is where they all go to commiserate over drinks about crappy jobs, wrecked relationships, and life in general. Everyone is family and everyone comes to Ruby’s.

Even though her job sucks, Allie’s life appears to be taking an especially good turn when a gorgeous dark-haired stranger comes walking into Ruby’s and sweeps her off her feet. As much as she wants to deny how she feels, the chemistry between them is an eleven on a scale of one to ten.

Struggling through a nasty divorce, Vivian Wade is not looking for any more complications in her already crazy life, but when she goes north to Portland to check on business, she sees a blonde woman who takes her breath away. Although a relationship is the last thing she wants, she cannot deny what her body is telling her.

When their worlds collide, all starts perfectly, until Allie learns Ruby’s has been sold to an investor. A woman from Los Angeles, named Vivian, who plans to change everything.

Tell us about this scene:

Everybody hangs out at Ruby's bar. It feels like home and when a regular named Allie is there partying with her friends, she meets a raven-haired, beautiful stranger named Vivian.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I selected the passage from “Welcome to Ruby’s” for a couple of reasons aside from it being one of my all-time favorites. Let's be honest. How much more romantic is it than to read of two people seeing each other across the bar for the first time? All the chemistry as their eyes meet, sparks of electricity dancing between them… those scenes get me interested in a story every time. Aside from the "first meet" aspect, I love the Allie/Vivian dynamic. They are one of my favorite couples, and telling their story in “Welcome to Ruby’s” was a lot of fun. It was luck that I happened across it too, otherwise I might have forgotten the scene entirely. With eighteen novels under my belt, there were a lot of scenes to remember and choose from. Ironically, I had to reread “Welcome to Ruby’s” (and its sequel “Back to Ruby’s) recently to prepare for writing the third book in the series, “Together at Ruby’s.” After reading how Allie and Vivian reacted to each other when their eyes met that fateful night, I knew the scene was one of my all-time favorites. A perfect fit for the IHS Favorite Scenes anthology. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

* * *

Excerpt:

When Trixie wandered over with the tray of bright orange shots, Allie’s eyebrows went up with surprise. “What’s this?” she asked with a laugh, feeling a nice buzz and glad she had elected to not officially work tonight. Liza and Tate’s mini-party was proving to be too much fun to miss. After a half dozen group dances, plus an equal number of tequila shots all around, she was having a total blast. Add in the opening of presents, each one a more and more elaborate sex toy, and Allie was having the best night ever. Exactly what she needed after a hell of a week at the office and the looming day of work tomorrow. Mr. Wiley had pretty much insisted she come in at noon on a Saturday to “catch up.” Thinking about how much of an asshole the man was, Allie took one of the festive glasses as Trixie passed them around.

“A little something to help you continue to celebrate,” she said with a grin. “From the dark-haired stranger over at the bar.” Trixie nodded over Allie's shoulder. Allie turned and saw a woman leaning against the counter. Catching her eye, the stranger raised her martini glass in acknowledgment and Allie's eyes widened. The woman was gorgeous. In one riveting moment, Allie took in everything about the woman. Dark, almost black hair, which hung in waves down to her shoulders. Perfect skin and full lips slightly parted in a hint of a smile. A sultry, come kiss me smile, Allie thought, licking her lips as she found herself unable to keep from roaming her eyes down to take in a lean body under a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm. She wore tight black jeans over slim hips, and expensive looking black boots. Realizing what she was doing, Allie snapped her eyes back up to the woman’s face, feeling herself blush as a twinkle of amusement showed in the stranger’s deep brown and absolutely stunning eyes. Mesmerizing eyes. For a second, she felt as if they could see right into her soul. Considering the lustful thought playing through her, Allie certainly hoped they could not. She blushed even deeper.

“Holy crap,” she heard Nikki say from beside her. “That girl is fucking hot.” Allie swallowed and, with concerted effort, pulled her eyes away from the attractive sight. That is an understatement, she thought.

“And she is totally checking you out, Allie,” Marty said with a low whistle. Allie slapped Marty’s arm.

“She is so not,” she insisted.

“So is,” Rey chimed in. “She hasn't taken her eyes off of you, and I swear she just checked out your ass.” Allie felt a sudden and surprising flutter low in her body. Was she? she wondered and then shook her head. No way. The stranger was a complete knock-out, and any second now, half of the bar would be lining up to buy her a drink.

“Uh, Allie,” Nikki murmured over the noise of the bar. “She’s coming over here.” Allie’s eyes widened as she stared into her friend’s face. 

A ball of equal parts anxiety and excitement bloomed in her stomach. “No, she’s not,” Allie whispered.

“Yep, headed straight for you,” Marty added. Suddenly, Tate was up from her honorary spot in the booth and holding up the gift shot in her hand. There was no doubting she was well on her way to a big hangover tomorrow. 

Swaying, Tate grinned. “Where is she?” she asked, looking with glassy eyes around the room. “I need to say thank you.”

“You're most welcome,” came a response from behind Allie. The voice was unusually deep, a little gravelly, and sexy as hell. Another surge of attraction streaked through Allie, and she bit her lip, not daring to turn and look. 

She saw Tate's grin widen. “Hey, you sound like that cool actress from the 80s. Who was that? Demi Moore?” she mumbled, and Allie nodded. She had to agree. 

“Thank you,” the woman said. “I get that a lot.” Nikki chuckled, and out of the corner of her eye, Allie could see her friend was most definitely interested. Of course, Nikki was curious about any new possible conquest in the bar. In this case, Allie was almost relieved. The stranger was way out of Allie's league and even thinking for a second the intriguing woman would be at all interested in her was ludicrous. Feeling braver now, Allie turned and was suddenly face-to-face with the raven-haired stranger. If their eyes were more than six inches apart, it was not by much. Allie felt her mouth grow dry. Good God, this woman is beautiful, she thought.

“Oh, hi,” was all Allie could manage to get out. The woman tilted her head, and the same sexy half smile traced her lips. Unable to look away, Allie suddenly had a crazy desire to kiss her. In fact, she started to lean in and then caught herself. What in the hell is happening to me? she thought. The woman's smile turned into a full one as if she knew precisely what Allie was thinking. 

She held out her hand. “I'm Vivian,” she said. Allie blinked as she looked down at the woman's offering, as if never having seen such a gesture before. Marty saved her with a nudge to her shoulder and Allie snapped out of the trance. Taking the woman's hand, she almost melted at the warm, soft touch of her slender fingers. Is there anything not sexy about this woman? she thought.

“This is Allie,” Marty finally offered. “She can usually speak pretty good.” Vivian smiled and stared into Allie’s eyes.

“A pleasure to meet you, Allie,” she said. “Want to dance?”

* * *

Welcome to Ruby's ©2018 by KC Luck

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

KC Luck writes sapphic action-adventure, contemporary romance, and fiction. Writing is her passion, and nothing energizes her more than creating new characters facing trials and tribulations in a complex plot. Whether it is apocalypse, contemporary, or a little naughty, with every story, KC tries to add her own unique twist.

Sign up here for KC Luck ’s author newsletter.

BEYOND ANY EXPERIENCE BY ANNE E. TERPSTRA

Blurb:

Olivia Northman’s world shattered the day she lost her wife to a drunk driver. Three years later, she still struggles with grief and the demands of being a single parent to their autistic son, Ben. After her first attempt at a new relationship crumbles, she retreats to the simple, the predictable. It’s what’s best for her son, and her heart.

Ellie Vasquez isn’t simple or predictable. In fact, she’s charmingly impulsive, as well as gregarious, confident, and attracted to Olivia, which she reveals in an unguarded moment. Olivia doesn’t know what’s more surprising—Ellie’s interest, or her own—but a quiet conversation over drinks soon spins into something more. As Olivia’s caution gives way to hope, she sees another chance at love, both for her, and for Ben, who takes to Ellie with a tender openness. Ellie is fearless about love in a way that makes Olivia want to be brave, but the deeper their passion, the closer she gets to drowning—in grief, in fear, in guilt. To have a future with Ellie, Olivia must come to terms with her past. If she can’t, she risks losing the second love of her life.

Anne E. Terpstra’s BEYOND ANY EXPERIENCE is an intimate, emotional debut that explores grief, parenting, neurodiversity, and the vulnerability of love after loss.

Tell us about this scene:

The main character, Olivia, has been invited to a fundraiser where Ellie, the woman she's been dating, is volunteering as a bartender. The event is coming to a close, and Olivia seeks out Ellie so they can grab a drink before Olivia returns home to her son.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I chose this scene from Beyond Any Experience because I love how it centers the sexual desire of a middle-aged mom in a setting usually associated with young adults—late night at a club. It’s fun to write steamy scenes between adult women who are equal in terms of confidence and agency. This is also the first time Olivia and Ellie really get to strike that match, physically. Up until now, their intimacy has been mostly verbal—their only dates have been quiet conversations on Olivia’s front porch. But after this encounter, the fire is truly lit.

Physical intimacy in a novel allows a reader to look more deeply into a relationship, but for me, it also serves a political purpose. We desperately need more sex-positive portrayals of older queer women if we’re going to push back against a society that wants to stuff us in a box marked ‘sexless’ and forget about us. My hope is, with scenes like this one, I can help reframe the narrative for all middle-aged women.

* * *

Excerpt:

The crowd was thinning, and Olivia made her way to the bar, where Ellie was helping the staff clean up. Her grin sparkled over the taps. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t chat more.” Sweat clung to Ellie’s upper lip and ran a small trail between her breasts. “I had no idea it would be this busy.” 

“It’s okay,” Olivia said. “I have time for a drink, if you can drive me home afterward.” 

“Absolutely, but I’m dying in this leather. It does not breathe. My other shirt’s in the supply room. Can you keep an eye out while I change?” 

Olivia tugged her gaze from Ellie’s full cleavage. “Sure.” 

Ellie left the door open a crack. In the mirror above a sink, Olivia saw her peel the tank top over her head. She was voluptuous, all smooth skin over full curves, and Olivia stayed glued to the reflection, absorbing that raw physicality. Ellie’s work shirts and cargo pants hid her feminine contours under a neutral shell, and on their porch dates, her parka obscured everything. Olivia imagined Ellie’s damp skin against her palms. Desire slithered through her belly and curled deep in her pelvis, heavy, waiting. 

Ellie had slipped the button-down shirt over her shoulders when their eyes met in the mirror. Olivia shifted, pretending to scan the crowd, but Ellie reached through the gap and pulled her inside. 

“Like what you see?” Her breasts swelled over the cups of her bra as she pressed Olivia into the closed door. Ellie’s height and size let her dominate the small space and Olivia with an ease that was new and incredibly erotic. 

“Sorry, I—” 

“Don’t apologize. I want you to see me. All of me. Whenever you’re ready.” Ellie clasped Olivia’s face and buried her in a bruising kiss, tongue slick and hot in her mouth. Their intense crush of lips released the breath Olivia had been holding since Ellie first touched her cheek. She’d tiptoed into this relationship to avoid the danger of a headlong rush, letting each conversation inch her closer to the edge of possibility. But as she surged against Ellie, taking all her ravenous mouth could give and demanding more, Olivia realized their time together had only deepened the chasm, leaving her even farther to fall. 

Ellie ground her into the door and yanked Olivia’s hands under her open shirt, plastering them to her sweaty back. When her splayed fingers sank into that soft expanse of flesh, Olivia groaned. 

“Anyone in there?” A knock shattered the kiss, but their lips grazed as they gasped into each other’s mouths. Ellie’s breasts crushed Olivia with every choppy breath. 

“Just changing.” Ellie rested her forehead on the door with a quiet thump, melting into her. 

Sweat and whiskey floated off Ellie’s skin, and the tip of Olivia’s tongue burned with salt as she traced the rapid pulse in her neck. She brushed Ellie’s spine and followed the damp slope of her back before slipping under the waist of her jeans. Ellie moaned and arched into the contact. The motion sent Olivia’s fingers lower, skimming her round ass. It was a matter of inches, a gentle sweep around Ellie’s hip to the swell of her stomach, then lower, and she could stroke her, could find out how wet, how hot, how full and thick and luscious this woman was. Olivia was suddenly desperate to hear how Ellie sounded when she came— 

A thud jolted the door as a loud voice issued instructions. She jerked her hand free. 

“Jesus.” Ellie pried herself off and fumbled at her buttons. Olivia stilled her clumsy hands, finishing for her, then painted the rise of those glistening breasts with her fingertips. Ellie shuddered. The need in her eyes mirrored Olivia’s own. 

When Ellie reached for the knob, Olivia slid to the side so she could open it, and their breasts brushed. She clenched her fists to keep from pulling Ellie back to her. They left the supply room without speaking and glided past the VIP doorman into the club. 

* * *

Beyond Any Experience ©2022 by Anne E. Terpstra

Published by NineStar Press

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from NineStar Press

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Anne E. Terpstra (she/her) writes heartfelt, sex-positive fiction that is grounded in realism and centers LGBTQ+ characters. She graduated from the University of Missouri-Columbia and has degrees in journalism and technical theater. In addition to being an author, Anne is a potter and photographer.

Sign up here for Anne E. Terpstra ’s author newsletter.

MRS MIDDLETON BY MELISSA TEREZE

Blurb:

Their love could heal their hearts…but destroy the relationships they both hold dear.

Emma Bradley is trembling. And not because of the climate difference between England and Africa, where she’s just ended an 18-month stint teaching sports to kids. She’s about to see Vanessa again.

Golden hair, luminous blue eyes, a smile to light up a room. The woman Emma loves. The woman she spilled her heart out to, then ran away to another continent to avoid a humiliating scene—because Vanessa is her best friend’s mum. If Emma is lucky, maybe Vanessa chalked it up to too much wine. Or better yet, forgot all about it.

Vanessa Middleton is fighting a serious case of uncertainty. Emma’s confession is crystal clear in her memory, and now that Vanessa is divorced from her cheating husband, the strongest barrier between them is gone. But there are others no less challenging.

Because if Vanessa couldn’t keep her husband’s attention, what could bright, beautiful, much younger Emma possibly see in her? Worse, if the two of them act on their attraction, their affair could jeopardise the relationship they both hold dear: Vanessa’s daughter—Emma’s closest friend.

Tell us about this scene:

Emma has been in love with Vanessa Middleton, her best friend’s mother, for many years. They have come clean and admitted their feelings for one another, and now they’re alone for the first time.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

For me, this scene really shows how difficult both Emma and Vanessa are finding it to be in the same house together. When I was writing this particular scene, I could feel the ache in my stomach. That, for me, is the sign of a powerful scene. Emma and Vanessa have wanted one another for so many years, but neither of them has ever felt in a position to act on it. Until now, when they’re aware of one another’s attraction. This brings the longing, the confusion, and the desperate need to be with one another altogether, while knowing they still have so much to tackle.

* * *

Excerpt:

When Emma’s foot hit the top step, her body immediately froze at the sound coming from down the hallway. Mrs Middleton…had company? Her body’s immediate reaction was to curl up and sob until her heart felt empty, but Emma noted that the bedroom door was cracked open slightly. She shouldn’t move towards it, should she?

A low, throaty moan had wetness gathering between her thighs. Fuck, those moans were incredibly arousing. Surely, someone else had to be causing them. Nobody was that vocal when they were alone.

Emma took a hesitant step forward, the door within reach. If she tapped it, it would open. But if she turned around and minded her own business, everything would stay the same. Sometimes that was best for everyone. Emma made the respectful decision to head for her own room. She would kick herself tomorrow, but Vanessa was only doing what Emma should be. A little self-care.

“F-fuck, Emma.”

Emma froze again. She surely hadn’t heard right. Had she? God, she wished she hadn’t heard it at all, because now she was stepping painfully close to the bedroom door that didn’t belong to her, light gasps filtering out into the hallway.

With the tip of her finger, she pushed the door ever so slightly. There Vanessa was, the side of her face buried in her pillow and turned towards the door, backside up in the air, hand between her legs. And her body was a thing of absolute beauty. The holidays while they lay around wearing bikinis didn’t compare to a completely naked Vanessa, only the moonlight shining down and silhouetting such impeccable skin. Holy fuck! Emma’s body shuddered. If she moved, she was likely to come. If only Emma could see those incredible eyes…

Vanessa released a frustrated moan, her free hand fisting in the pillow beside her. “God, I want you to fuck me…”

Emma’s mouth fell open, disbelief overpowering her arousal momentarily. Did Vanessa know she was in the room or was this all pure, unadulterated fantasy? It didn’t matter what it was, it was fucking hot! One step closer, and Emma could be doing the one thing she’d dreamt about. Touching Vanessa.

I shouldn’t…

But Emma couldn’t hold back. 

She got to her knees beside the bed, gently brushing Vanessa’s hair from her face. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world.” Emma stroked her fingertips down Vanessa’s spine and over the curve of her arse. Her skin was the softest Emma had ever touched. But it was the lack of shock from Vanessa that Emma focused on as those pretty blue eyes opened. “Tell me what you need.”

Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears. They slipped to the pillow as her lips parted. Emma dragged her nails up the back of Vanessa’s thigh, pleased when she received a gasp. “M-more,” Vanessa whispered, her voice barely audible. “D-don’t leave.”

Emma placed her hand to the inside of Vanessa’s thigh, overcome with the need to feel this woman. All of her. Vanessa moaned when Emma brushed the back of her hand against her sex, dripping…Emma needed more, too.

“Y-yes.” Vanessa forced herself back against Emma’s hand, her entire body shaking. “Please.”

Emma gathered unimaginable wetness on her fingertips, sinking into Vanessa from behind. She’d dreamt of this moment from day one, she’d fantasised about touching her best friend’s mother for so long, but nothing could have prepared her for this moment.

The bed creaked as Emma pushed in and out, harder with each thrust, the whimpers and moans too much for her to take any longer. She slipped her free hand into her jeans, met with her own soaked underwear. She didn’t once take her eyes off Vanessa’s. This, she could do. Because if Vanessa didn’t touch her, Emma could never crave more. She would never know what she was missing. If Vanessa’s hands didn’t reach her skin, Emma could walk away tonight and never look back.

As Emma’s fingers connected with her sensitive clit, her mouth fell open. Vanessa was freely fucking her fingers, and God, it felt good. Too good. Vanessa’s walls squeezed Emma’s fingers, her orgasm evidently roaring towards its peak.

Emma leaned forward, lowering her mouth to Vanessa’s ear. She ran the tip of her tongue along the shell, placing a gentle kiss to Vanessa’s neck as she whispered, “Come for me, Mrs Middleton.”

A strangled cry erupted from Vanessa’s throat, her hand tightening in the pillow. Tears fell freely from her eyes; Emma’s own were working their way to the surface as she came undone in front of Vanessa. As intense as this moment was, it was also devastating. This was the end of the line for Emma. 

The kiss last week had tipped things, but this one act had destroyed everything. Still, she found herself fucking Vanessa regardless. Emma would never see the inside of this home again after tonight, but she could leave knowing she’d accomplished one of the greatest things in life. An intimate moment with Vanessa Middleton.

Emma coaxed the last of Vanessa’s orgasm from her, her fingers forced out by Vanessa’s throbbing walls as her lower half collapsed onto the bed. And then the realisation of what had happened sunk in. Emma had fucked her best friend’s mum. 

Vanessa lay breathless, her eyes firmly on Emma. Neither said a word for several moments, only the ever-present longing between them. And then Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut. “E-Emma.”

“Don’t say anything.” Emma choked back a sob, her world slowing as Vanessa stared back at her. “You are everything I could ever want, but it’s time to let you go.” She brushed Vanessa’s hair from the side of her face. “You deserve more than this. A secret. You deserve the most intense love with someone who won’t complicate life for you.”

Vanessa’s tears continued to slip down her face.

“I love you,” Emma whispered, pressing her lips to Vanessa’s temple. “But I’ll go. Y-you won’t have to see me again.”

Before Vanessa could respond, Emma fell out of the door, her face stained with tears.

It was time to leave.

Perhaps a new city was a good place to start.

* * *

Mrs Middleton ©2021 by Melissa Tereze

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

I'm Melissa Tereze, author of The Arrangement, and other bestsellers. Born and raised in Liverpool, UK, I spend my time writing angsty romance about complex, real-life, women who love women. My heart lies within the age-gap trope, but you'll also find a wide range of different characters and stories to sink your teeth into.

Sign up here for Melissa Tereze ’s author newsletter.

TAKE TWO BY STEPHANIE SHEA

Blurb:

Being in love is Whitney Dimaano’s favorite past time. Though lately, she can’t seem to get it right. She’s tried—she is trying—but it just hasn’t…clicked, and maybe her time would be better spent focusing on all the things that are actually good in her life. The gym she all but built with her own two hands, the new-found bond with her brother and sister, her friends… Anything but chasing the ghost of how it felt with the woman who left her behind.

Award-winning documentarian Andy Vahn dreamed of being an extraordinary filmmaker. Her recipe for success is a fusion of meticulous planning, diligence, and never letting anything stand in her way. Not even love. When a trip to convince a misanthropic celebrity chef to appear in her docuseries leads her home, Andy knows it won’t be easy. Least of all because she hasn’t been back in six years. Hasn’t seen Whitney in six years. Still, it’s true what they say. You never forget your first.

Maybe Andy’s return is the closure Whitney needs. But what if all it does is reaffirm Andy’s deepest fear?

She should never have left.

Tell us about this scene:

Whitney has just ended things with a woman she’s been dating for weeks. She goes to the restaurant’s bathroom for a respite, only for Andy—her ex who is in town for a film project—to appear at the sink next to hers.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Whenever I think of Take Two, and Andy and Whitney’s relationship, this is one of the first scenes that come to mind. There’s an undeniable, almost inescapable attraction that just hasn’t gone away, even after six years. In this moment, it makes Whitney powerless not to notice things about Andy’s voice and body that are the same, along with things that have changed over time. But the lasting familiarity extends even to things Andy isn’t saying, because they still know each other so well. There’s a lot of underlying emotions because of that. Resentment, maybe even anger, but there’s so much yearning and desire there too. I think that’s why this is my favorite—because it’s a scene that mirrors the complexity of human emotion and Whitney and Andy’s relationship.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Hey.”

For a second, Whitney resented her brain for so perfectly capturing the delicate tenor of Andy’s voice. Then someone emerged at the sink next to hers—long fingers adorned with mismatched rings on the thumb and middle finger steady beneath the running tap, smooth arms left on display by a cropped racerback tank, and only a sliver of skin bridging the gap to high-waisted jeans that hugged subtle curves.

Whitney’s own hands went still beneath the water as their eyes locked in the mirror, Andy’s soft with traces of a smile, her pupils on the verge of swallowing the ring of meadowy brown that never failed to hold Whitney’s attention a second too long. Her brows twitched in awareness that she was staring, and she shook her hands, stepping toward the paper towel dispenser. “I thought you and Kasey already left.”

“We’re about to. She’s already outside.” Andy crossed the tiles and stopped in front of Whitney, close enough for the sweet and spicy hints of cardamom on her skin to flood Whitney’s senses. A curly, dark strand from Andy’s pixie cut nestled against her brow, teasing the tips of her thick lashes, and Whitney fisted her hand against the urge to reach up and sweep away the lock of hair. “I, um—” A visible gulp moved down Andy’s throat. “Can I just…?”

“What?” The word left Whitney’s lips faint as a whisper.

Andy reached up, locking Whitney between her arm and the wall as she yanked a towel from the dispenser. “Grab one of these.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Whitney dropped her own towel in the trash and jolted backward, needing to put some space between them. Even so, her eyes insisted on studying the subtle flex of Andy’s biceps. The missing leather jacket that would’ve completed Andy’s ensemble was inconvenient if not outright distracting. Yet it wasn’t nearly as astounding as the small, dark scribble of a word next to Andy’s clavicle. Brave. Since when was Andy Vahn into tattoos?

“Good date?” Andy asked.

Whitney tilted her head, frowning.

“With Isabelle. I’m guessing she’s waiting for you.”

“Oh. No.” Whitney blinked, clearing the haze in her mind. “She already left.”

“Hmm. Well…” Andy hooked a thumb over her shoulder, her free hand disappearing into her back pocket. “I should probably get out of here before Kasey starts getting impatient. I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

Impulse spurred Whitney forward. “Wait, what was that?”

“What was what?” Andy asked slowly, eyes squinted.

“That hum. When I told you Isabelle left already.”

“Nothing.” She shrugged. “Just a hum, I guess.”

“You never just hum, Andy.”

Her lips parted, then closed, eyes wandering as if in search of the right words. “It’s really nothing.”

“Then just say it.”

“Whitney—”

“Just say it, Andy!”

“She’s a doctor!” Andy licked her lips, and the muscles in her jaw tensed, suppressing the outburst two seconds too late. “I guess… I don’t know. I can’t really see it. Someone like you with someone like her… which is stupid because I don’t know her at all.”

“You’re right,” Whitney snapped. “You don’t know her, and as someone who hasn’t been in my life for six years, I don’t really think it’s your business to see anything in my relationships, Andy.”

“You asked,” she said softly.

“I did. My mistake.” Whitney whirled toward the door, only then realizing that the two women who’d been debating their lipstick choices had left, abandoning her and Andy to the solitude of old patterns and too many unsaid words. 

“Whitney, wait!”

She knew her reaction wasn’t fair—she had asked—but the familiarity, maybe even judgment, in Andy’s tone had poked a hornet’s nest of emotions that had been dormant for years. Maybe that was the worst part about tonight. She hadn’t even been able to give a hundred percent to her own fucking breakup because apparently there were no other lounge bars in all South of Market and Andy just had to be here.

She tugged on the handle of the bathroom door, yanking it open a second before Andy’s palm forced it shut with a thud. 

The moment stretched, audible breaths in the stillness of the room, Andy so close Whitney could lean into her without having to take a single step back. The hairs on the back of her neck rose at Andy’s whispered, “Whit, I’m sorry.” 

Andy’s hand fell from the door, and Whitney turned, her four-inch booties leaving them at eye level. The moment felt fraught with déjà vu—not because of their proximity or the race of Whitney’s pulse, but because she wasn’t sure what Andy was apologizing for, like she hadn’t been sure that night at W. 

“I was out of line. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know anything about it. I don’t know anything about anything. Just—” Her tongue darted out to lick her lips again, and Whitney’s eyes clung to the sheen left in its wake. “I was never any good at this.”

“At what?” Whitney asked, this breath a little shorter than her last.

“Fighting with you.”

“That’s not what we’re doing.”

Andy’s gaze drifted to Whitney’s mouth before flicking back to her eyes. “Then what are we doing?”

Whitney’s stomach clenched as something treacherous swelled within her, nudging her closer to an exploration of dormant desires and certain danger. She surrendered to the aching need to reach up and brush away the lock of hair threatening to impede Andy’s vision, ignoring the shiver down her spine when the tips of her fingers grazed Andy’s jaw and a faint catch of breath echoed between them.

Then she turned for the door. “Say hi to Kasey for me.”

* * *

Take Two ©2022 by Stephanie Shea

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Stephanie Shea is a best-selling author of sapphic contemporary romance, who used to spend her days in corporate daydreaming of becoming a full-time novelist. Her favorite things include binging TV shows, creating worlds where no character is too queer, broken or sensitive, and snacks. Lots of snacks.

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SCARLETT FEVER BY CLAIRE HIGHTON-STEVENSON

Blurb:

Claudia Maddox did not expect to end up in the bed of a woman almost half her age, and she didn’t leave disappointed, but it was just a one-night bit of fun, wasn’t it? Albeit a hot, sexy, and unforgettable night, it was still just a bit of casual fun to blow away the cobwebs and reignite Claudia's life.

Scarlett had just been a fascinating experience she would think of now and then, and that was all because Claudia was straight. A divorced mother to three grown children, and about to be made redundant, the last thing Claudia thought she'd be dealing with was any uncertainty around her sexuality.

But things come to a head when her daughter’s old university friend needs a place to stay…And Claudia realises that Scarlett isn't quite so unforgettable.

Tell us about this scene:

Claudia is 54, divorced and about to be made redundant. In order to cheer them all up, her friend Bea organises a night out; not wanting to get pestered by men on the pull, they think they've played safe by heading to a local gay bar, but as the evening begins to warm up, Claudia finds herself the subject of a younger woman's attention...

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I think for me there were several scenes that I could have chosen, but I went with this one because it's nearer the beginning, and doesn't spoil anything for anyone who might want to read it. It also shows us right away that the characters of Claudia and Scarlett instantly click with one another, it's flirty, and fun, and who doesn't enjoy a little bit of that?

* * *

Excerpt:

The club was nice enough, small, and intimate. The one thing she had specified when Bea and Liz were organising the night, was that it wasn’t a cattle market full of young men looking for the fantasy mother they’d like to...she shook her head of those thoughts, feeling quite icky at the idea.

She really had no interest in having to deal with unwanted, drunken attention. Not that she egotistically assumed she would, there was no arrogance where Claudia Maddox was concerned. But she understood that she looked good for her age, and why should she? She worked hard for it. 

Weekly gym sessions, swimming twice a week, yoga and walking whenever she could, because let’s face it, what else did she have to do with her time lately, were all that were keeping her going. 

However, standing here and looking around, she certainly felt her age. 

But she couldn’t fault Bea on the choice of bars, and she had to admit, she felt a little safer about getting tipsy, and not having to worry about being hit on.

“A gay bar?” she’d exclaimed, much to Bea’s amusement.

Bea had giggled as they queued outside to get in. “I’m saying it now, what happens at Art, stays at Art.” 

“What does that mean?” Liz asked.

Claudia rolled her eyes, she highly doubted that the hip and trendy queer folk of the world would be interested in the three of them. 

So, she was quite surprised when a young woman half her age, and with eyes, blue like a wolf, sidled up and grinned at her. Baring shiny white teeth and a lot of self-confidence. Claudia suddenly felt quite intoxicated.

“Hey, fancy a dance?” she’d said, leaning in towards Claudia as she spoke. The hint of something alcoholic and minty on her breath, and the subtleness of perfume wafted up.

At first, Claudia glanced behind her, assuming this hot young thing must be speaking to someone equally hot and young behind her, but she wasn’t. Those eyes remained exactly where they were a second ago, locked on to Claudia’s.

“Me?” Claudia finally asked, pointing to her own chest, because there was absolutely nobody else around paying any attention to either of them. 

The woman giggled, and the sparkling blue eyes creased a little around the edges as she continued to smile at her, “Yeah, wanna dance?”

“Oh, no…I mean, goodness, I’m not…I’m not gay. I’m here with friends.” Claudia explained, feeling a blush begin to creep up her neck. Regardless of sexual orientation, this woman was gorgeous. They were the same height albeit Claudia was in heels. Face to face, Claudia felt the power of those smiling eyes that were still intensely trained on her. She hadn’t been looked at like that for years and it sent a little shiver of excitement up her spine and even, could she admit it, to the part of her that hadn’t been touched by anyone other than herself since Jack. 

Claudia’s mouth dried, and she licked her lips. 

“Well,” The woman took a step back, and tilted her head, letting her long dark hair with fire-red tips fall to one side, she swept a hand through her locks and took her time appraising Claudia up and down just a little longer, she stepped closer, and leaned in until her lips all but brushed the shell of Claudia’s ear, “Right now, it’s just a dance…anything else,” she shrugged and grinned, as she stepped back to watch her reaction, “You can decide later.”

“I uh…” she caught sight of Bea, making her way through the throng of people, bringing with her something very bright in a glass with umbrellas and straws. It didn’t take Bea long to suss out what was happening, and Claudia almost died on the spot when her friend winked and steered herself away and back over to where Liz was now throwing shapes with a group of what Claudia thought were boys in drag.

“I don’t bite, unless…” the woman bit her lip and considered Claudia again. “You ask nicely.” The grin that spread across her face was captivating and Claudia chuckled, admiring the brave young thing who seemed to be enjoying the moment a little too much.

Two could play that game, Claudia thought, making her own appraisal. 

Black jeans, plaid shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal a little tanned skin. She looked a little like the boyish women with the way she was dressed, and yet, she exuded femineity even when she reached up and tied her hair with a band to keep it off her face.

“What makes you think I’d ask nicely?” 

The woman shrugged, “I don’t know that it would matter…” she let it drag out expecting a name, and she grinned victoriously when she got it. 

“Claudia…and you are…”

“I’m Scarlett.”

* * *

Scarlett Fever ©2023 by Claire Highton-Stevenson

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Claire Highton-Stevenson is a British Indie author. She writes heartwarming, Sapphic romance in contemporary settings. Claire's characters are bold, strong, independent women who love women.

However, she is also known to throw in a mystery or two. Claire likes to move around the tropes at will, and will often bend the rules to create exciting and often unique situations. She's not afraid to tackle darker topics either.

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EVOLUTION BY MJ DUNCAN

Blurb:

Life in The Royal Ballet comes with a set of unwritten rules, and no one knows them better than Nina Devereaux. Even in her current role as the Company’s Artistic Director, those expectations still loom menacingly over her life. But when she’s granted the opportunity to bring her revolutionary ballet to stage, the little voice that has always kept her playing by the rules begins to waver as she watches her love letter to the woman who has held her heart for years come to life. She knows better than most that it’s a long road from wanting something to having it, but perhaps this time she’ll finally manage to get it right.

Tell us about this scene:

Clara has been in a car accident, and Nina rushes to her side. Fear of loss and deep-seated longing prove the perfect catalyst for Nina to find the courage to let herself have what she's always wanted.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Clara has been in a car accident, and Nina rushes to her side. An evening of heightened emotions proves the perfect catalyst for Nina to find the courage to let herself have what she's always wanted.

* * *

Excerpt:

Nina’s heart leapt at the feeling of Clara’s fingers closing around her left wrist, and she swallowed hard to force it back into place as she whispered, “It was my pleasure, darling.”

“No, really.” Clara squeezed her wrist lightly. “Seriously. Thank you for this.”

Nina smiled and turned her head to assure her it wasn’t a problem, and froze when their lips brushed together. Clara froze too—clearly equally surprised, probably having meant the kiss to land on her cheek—and her eyes fluttered shut at the soft press of Clara’s lips against her own. 

This was the point where, when they’d found themselves in this situation in the past, she would pull back, spluttering apologies before she ran away. But this time, for reasons she didn’t understand, that panic, that urge to flee was strikingly absent. She turned toward Clara as she melted into the heavenly feeling of her lips sliding tentatively over her own, and her stomach fluttered and dipped when Clara’s kisses became bolder. The hand on her wrist slid up her arm and shoulder to wrap around the back of her neck, gently coaxing her closer as a nimble tongue traced the curve of her lips once, twice, three times before finally, finally slipping inside and deepening the kiss. 

A low whimper caught in her throat at the first brush of Clara’s tongue against her own, and she lifted her right hand to curve around Clara’s jaw, much as she had when she’d arrived, as she lost herself in the moment. Every swipe of their tongues together made her feel like she was flying—her heart leaping, soaring, before gracefully drifting back into place with every delicious kiss, like it was a dancer making its way across an infinite stage in a breathtaking series of grand jetés.

Breathless. Every kiss left her utterly, wonderfully, unmistakably breathless. Her head spun as every soft sound of pleasure that rumbled in Clara’s throat tumbled across her skin like a caress, and her world, her entire life was cast and reshaped into a beautiful disaster as the voice in the back of her head that had always shouted no, no, no at her, wantonly cried yes, please, more. She was the one to chase after Clara’s lips every time it seemed like this slice of heaven might be coming to an end; she was the one to hold her closer, to plead with her fingertips and her lips and her tongue for more, just one more.

When they finally did break apart, it was slowly, deep kisses softening to gentler, chaste connections of lips, their breaths crashing together in the heated space between them as they lingered in the moment, both reluctant to let it end.

“Don’t go,” Clara whispered, her breath falling lightly over Nina’s lips. Her voice was strained, and she sounded like she was near tears as she pleaded, “Please. Please don’t—”

Nina’s heart clenched at the naked vulnerability in Clara’s words. She swallowed thickly as she smoothed her thumb over Clara’s cheek. The urge to run was there, but it was manageable. She could handle it. And, more importantly, she found that she wanted to handle it, never mind the fact that there was no way she was leaving when Clara might be concussed. “Okay.”

* * *

Evolution ©2021 by MJ Duncan

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

MJ Duncan traded her surfboard for hockey skates when she moved from California to Minnesota in 2009. When she's not busy writing stories about lady-loving ladies, MJ enjoys reading, disc golf, working out, and spending time with her family. You can also follow MJ on Twitter (@mj_duncan) & tumblr (mjduncan).

A FLIGHT TO LOVE BY FRANKIE FYRE

Blurb:

Interior design CEO Autumn Peterson is used to taking risks, but spending the holidays with an ex isn’t a risk she’s willing to take—especially during a work project back in her hometown. It’s Christmas time and Autumn is desperate to be far away from the festivities. When a blizzard ruins her plans to escape to an island vacation, she’s not only stranded inside an airport, but stuck with Calissa Roberts—the one who got away a decade ago.

Calissa Roberts has built a good life for herself in Asheville, North Carolina—one she almost gave up for young love that didn’t last in the end. Now, she’s living out her passion as an emu hobby farmer, as well as the internet celebrity fame that follows. But one look at the gorgeous, grumpy businesswoman flips Calissa’s world upside down. Unable to ignore the blazing passion between them, she’s determined to show Autumn exactly what she’s been missing this holiday season.

Tell us about this scene:

A main character, Autumn is at a coffeeshop back in her hometown with her best friend Janessa, who dragged her along to a date for moral support. Little did Autumn know, she'd run into the woman who got away over a decade ago.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Imagine. You’re not a morning person and instead of sleeping in on a Saturday, your best friend drags you to a coffee shop for moral support on HER magical lesbian date. To add insult to injury, your vibrator died last night right before the grand finale. But you manage to brush it off and still show up like the badass you are because you’re a good friend and you two co-own a business together. At least there will be coffee and your other best friend is on the charger waiting for you. All you want in life is to fast forward to your island vacation and finally get a break from being stuck in your hometown for work—Oh, and to stop thinking about your ex-girlfriend, the woman who got away over ten years ago. The kinky sex and love you shared was unmatched, but you messed up royally and are determined to move on. Though, you’re pretty sure even your therapist is tired of hearing about it.

Then the worst happens. Of course, your ex is working at the exact same coffee shop you’re in at this exact moment. She’s hotter than ever and apparently an internet celebrity now. She can’t stop looking at you and you can’t stop looking at her, but you’re forced to because of the adorable baby emu attacking your shoe. Why is there a baby emu inside a coffee shop? Anyway, you thought you were screwed before, but now you’re in HUGE trouble now.

I absolutely love this scene, specifically how readers get immediately immersed into Autumn’s world and are compelled to root for the characters happily ever after. This scene is an excerpt of chapter one. My sweet and spicy novella is full of action, intrigue and has all the feels expected from a great second chance romance. We meet the baby emu star, Biscuit, who plays a role in bringing them back together more than either character would ever realize. And the side-characters have a budding enemies to lovers story that readers demand to know what happens next (and get to). I'm glad readers are really enjoying this book and the spicy bonus epilogue that follows!

* * *

Excerpt:

Just as I stand, pitter-patter sounds against the floor make me pause and listen closely. I scan back and forth until my eyes locate the source of the tiny footsteps and chirping behind the counter. A chicken? No. It takes me a moment to locate its cream and dark-brown striped body, nearly camouflaged against the walnut floor. Is it wearing a diaper? I can’t believe my eyes as the bird, the size of my hands, bolts in my direction. What the hell do I do?

I step back when it helplessly topples forward like a clumsy toddler and lands inches from my heels. My heart swells as I smile curiously, finding it impossible to not acknowledge the fluff of cuteness.

Janessa peers down and squeals as if she’s just seen a celebrity. “Is that—”

“Biscuit!” a voice yells from the back, followed by heavier footsteps. “Son, what did I tell you about climbing out of your pen and bothering the customers?” A woman emerges. Her mustard-yellow sweater and matching black pants and boots complements her bronze skin perfectly. She freezes when our eyes meet, as does my train of thought.

Calissa Roberts, whose smile has haunted me during the most mundane tasks, is five feet away. 

My face tingles with heat when she sizes me up, my usual smartass commentary lodged in my throat. That would have proved useful right about now, given the way she spoke to that bird like a child. Instead, I’m speechless and possibly blushing the same shade of crimson as my lipstick. My eyes drift up from her curves to the endless strands of her hair—a summation of the number of her touches that have crossed my mind—and I remember our limbs tangled together, her hot breath on my skin, her commanding gaze in the dark. It takes me a minute to overcome the rush of nostalgia of seeing my ex again, the memory of young love and how I ran from it.

Finally, I remember what words are and blink twice. “Callie?” 

“Autumn Peterson? The big-shot West-Coast businesswoman in Asheville?” 

The slight gape of her mouth transforms into the toothy grin I remember, and that alone forces me to replicate one in return.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” I say. If I had known, I would’ve chosen a different shop in the River Arts District, but a part of me deep down appreciates the way a single look into her big brown eyes causes the dormant butterflies in my belly to flutter.

Calissa approaches and scoops the diaper-wearing tiny dinosaur into her arms. “Sorry, he has a ton of energy in the mornings after breakfast. We’re usually at the farm, but with the college students on break, sometimes Aunt Linda needs a hand, so I’ll grab a shift to help out.” 

She has the same hint of Southern twang in her voice that I remember, the one I made certain to get rid of. When I pay attention to the bird again, my brain works overtime to determine exactly what he is. A second later, an image of a giant, shaggy, feathered bird enters my brain, then a younger version. Those emu TikTok videos Janessa loves to shove in my face are proving useful. I can’t tell if Janessa’s intense gaze is fixated on us or Biscuit. Either way, she needs to pick her jaw up off the floor.

Minutes later, we have our lattes. I take a sip, feeling my mood lift, and sense Janessa eyeing me suspiciously. 

“Didn’t you date a woman named Callie?” Not so discreetly, she points toward Calissa whipping up a drink for another customer, then shoves her phone in my face.

There’s a photo of Calissa wearing brown overalls and standing beside a group of emus. I had always loved how the flyaways of her dark-brown hair looked in a messy bun, especially when she was first waking up. She was gorgeous before, but there seems to be an esoteric glow of beauty illuminating her now.

“Wait. The #ChocoboChasingCallie is your ex?”

I don't answer initially, only pull my phone out and scroll through Callie’s profile. Over seven hundred videos posted and two million subscribers. “Except when we were dating, none of that existed. Her family owned a few chickens and a couple of other animals. That was it.” 

“Didn’t think to mention something sooner? I’ve sent you over thirty videos.”

“I wasn’t aware you expected me to actually watch them. Someone has to get some work done.”

Luckily, her date shows up before she has a chance to play Twenty-One Questions about my past. I excuse myself and go to the register to order a coffee for the road. I hear a paper cup being set on the counter. The next thing I see is Calissa’s smile. 

“On the house.”

I swear she smiles more than anyone I know.

“Seeing you again was a nice surprise. You look great. I’m glad the West Coast worked out for you.”

I have so much to say, but now is not the time. Probably never. “You too, Callie.”

“If you’re not busy tomorrow morning, you should stop by. Bring your girlfriend if you’d like. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the mob.” 

“Oh, we’re not—” I hesitate. “Janessa and I aren’t a couple.”

“I own the farmhouse now, if you need the address.”

As if I’d ever forget our time there. I shake my head. “I can’t. Work has been crazy. I can’t,” I reiterate, more for myself than her.

After thanking her again for the coffee, I watch her nod and walk away. I want to see her again, but what good would that do? I wasn’t worth Calissa Roberts’ love then, and I’m certainly not now.

In the car, I crack a laugh watching Callie and Biscuit bop to a Whitney Houston song. Such a big personality for a tiny animal. The next video starts, and I can already tell I’m not getting much sleep tonight.

* * *

A Flight to Love ©2022 by Frankie Fyre

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Frankie Fyre is a lesbian author and reader. She loves writing and reading stories where Sapphic women get happily ever afters. When she's not writing spicy and satisfying kissing books, she can be found reading Sapphic romance and hanging out with her lovely lady.

Sign up here for Frankie Fyre ’s author newsletter.

JUST BEYOND THE SHINING RIVER BY LYNNETTE BEERS

Blurb:

After she gave up a promising career as an artist and turned her back on her British roots, Gemma Oldfield settled into life in Los Angeles to be with the woman who’d captured her heart. When things don’t go as planned, Gemma buries herself in her work as a Hollywood set decorator–all the while clinging to the hope that the passion with her lover can be rekindled. But she must temporarily leave L.A. behind and return to England after her grandmother’s unexpected passing.

Once there, she discovers shocking secrets she could never have foreseen. When she finds hundreds of letters written from a mysterious person dating as far back as the 1930s, Gemma embarks upon a quest to understand why her grandmother took so many secrets to her grave.

In her pursuit to learn more about her grandmother’s past, Gemma meets an intriguing woman who has the potential to change the course of her life forever. But can Gemma open her heart to love again? Will she stay in England for a new beginning or return to the States to the life she knew before?

Tell us about this scene:

Gemma Oldfield has discovered some scandalous information found in letters written to her recently deceased grandmother from a mysterious person named “MT.” In this scene, Gemma is reading letters from the late 1930s and early 1940s as she’s on the train heading to Soho in London.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene is near and dear to my heart because it includes some of the most important letters written to the main character’s grandmother. This excerpt is my number one scene because it shows how Gemma Oldfield is desperately trying to learn more about her recently deceased grandmother. Also, it takes place in London, which is like a second home to me. While I was in graduate school, I did three summer study abroad trips in London and got to know this city quite well. I was in London when the idea for Just Beyond the Shining River came to me, and it was there that I wrote the letter referring to Bishop’s Park included in this scene. I discovered this park on my first trip to London, and I always visit this little park when I am in London. Writing the letters included in this scene was incredibly fun because I could create a voice for MT and could also include historically accurate facts. So, the book has a blend of historical fiction and contemporary romance. This short excerpt conveys the book’s themes and tone quite well.

* * *

Excerpt:

At King’s Cross Station Gemma flowed with the crowd toward the Piccadilly line. The thoroughfare leading to the platform was stifling, the stairway clogged with commuters on their way home or headed to late-night clubs and cafés. A stream of passengers surged up one side of the stairs and down the other. Once at the platform, Gemma glanced down the dark tunnel in search of the next approaching train. With three minutes until the next train was to arrive, she rifled through her backpack and pulled out a stack of letters. Leaning against the tiled wall, she read one from 1937.

You would adore the gardens in Bishop’s Park right now. There is something unmistakably peaceful here. Perhaps it is the constant rhythm of the river or the breeze that flows up to the park from the water. You would think a Londoner as I would prefer the expanse of Regent’s or Hyde Park, but I find the intimacy of Bishop’s to be far more welcoming. The water remains calm today, in spite of the recent rain, but nothing is ever as calm as it seems. Today the waters look grey, reflecting the sky above. Forgive my melancholia and dreariness. I blame it on this weather and upon not seeing you now for what seems to be going on six weeks. Do make your appearance in London. The city misses you, as do I.

A crowd boarded the next train, the bodies moving as one entity. Packed for a Tuesday, the train continued to fill until the doors swooshed shut. With one hand clasped to the pole and the other to the letter, Gemma continued reading the words Nan had read some sixty years ago.

This morning I wrote an article about the rage over these Burmese. Philip assures me that my report will be printed in next month’s edition as the feature story which will provide me more money for the house in Putney. My articles have been a distraction to me since Frank’s death. I am grateful for Catherine’s presence in my life right now, but as children, she and I were never as close as Frank and I were. He was such a rascal when we were children, but if truth be told, I was as much a scoundrel as he was. Catherine misses our brother but understands that a deep hole has been left in my life due to his passing.

Apparent that Catherine was his sister, not his wife, it was becoming clear that MT possibly never married. But why hadn’t Nan married this man after Granddad’s death in the eighties? Had they finally parted ways? Had he predeceased her? Gemma felt an increasing grief wash over her as she realized that in the late eighties, Nan possibly had to bear the ache of losing this man.

Such darkness overcomes me that I scarcely feel the strength to go on. Even the hymns we sang two weeks ago at the funeral seemed futile in our efforts at releasing Frank’s spirit, but as I heard the mourners singing those words, I realised it was the same hymn sung at my mother’s funeral: “When They Ring the Golden Bells.” When I heard the opening lines to this hymn, it occurred to me that Frank is now with Mother at the end of that river, beyond the silvery sea, as the hymn goes. It is not surprising that I ponder mortality. How can I not dwell on such thoughts when Frank’s body has only recently been set into the ground?

Gemma glanced at the Tube map to see she was only two stops away from Russell Square. She skimmed another letter, this one from 1940.

The gloom of war has eaten away at me. I walked through the heart of London, careful to avoid the mounds of sandbags lining the streets. Piles of gas masks are heaped there as well. They tell all who can leave London to do so. I heard talk of railways being destroyed, the city becoming a place of ruin. There is no safe corner of England which remains protected. All this talk of inevitable bombings has created a dark gloom within me. My worry of late is that I will be unable to see you for weeks, perhaps months. The thought of you does console me and yet at the same time makes me ache with longing.

As the train neared Russell Square, Gemma scanned the two letters, her eyes halting on the line “It is not surprising that I ponder mortality.” She tired of Lorna’s unflinching belief in reincarnation and afterlife, but the reality was that death was just that—some land beyond the river, an unknown destination, but an end nonetheless.

Nan’s memorial would be upon them soon enough, but Gemma wanted a quiet, private service, one she knew Nan would have wanted. The house would barely hold the numerous guests her aunt and mother had in mind—people from the center in Moulton where Nan had last done her charity work, painters from her artists’ group, and members of the church. So much excessive grieving was unnecessary, and food to follow was pointless.

At her Tube stop she ascended the stairs into the cold air and joined the swarms of people exiting the station, flowing with them into Leicester Square. Gemma craved the busy Soho streets and the proximity of women holding other women’s hands and windows affixed with rainbow flags. She made her way north, trickling into the area where she felt most comfortable. Dean Street welcomed her, taking her by the hand and leading her to coffee, a cybercafé, a bar perhaps—anywhere she could silently tell those around her: “I’m one of you. I belong here.”

* * *

Just Beyond the Shining River ©2017 by Lynnette Beers

Published by Flashpoint Publications (Formerly Regal Crest)

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Flashpoint Publications

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Lynnette Beers is the author of four novels, including Just Beyond the Shining River, a Goldie finalist for best debut novel. Her latest book is Caught Inside, a novel about a teen surf champ. She has an MFA in fiction writing and is a professor of writing in Southern California.

THE MADAM DOUBLES DOWN BY SERENITY SNOW

Blurb:

Alexi’s grandfather is dying and it’s his wish for her to not only become part of the Krovopuskov mob family but head the American branch of it. However, the choice might be taken from her hands when Black Raven, an enemy of the family, launches a destructive assault against the Krovopuskovs.

At the same time, her family calls on her for aid, but Alexi is facing a fight with the tenacious Nine. Backed into a corner, Alexi makes a choice and comes out swinging. In a fire fight for her life, Alexi calls on old friends to catch her back.

The heat is on, and Alexi must trust Tia to anchor her heart as she becomes the flame of destruction to protect her family because hell hath no fury like a madam doubled down.

Tell us about this scene:

Alexi Russo is concerned that an enemy is attempting to lure her mate Tatiana into a harmful situation, and she's learned that Tatiana has been attacked. Alexi is furious and hurries home only to learn Tatiana is keeping something from her.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is one of my favorite scenes because it shows the passion of both characters. At the same time, it shows the depth of their feelings and fears. Both Alexi and Tatiana are anxious about their relationship. Alexi has been badly hurt and isn't sure she can go the distance. The scene gives readers a hint of her emotions, her fears about betrayal as well as her fears for the woman she loves.

* * *

Excerpt:

“I was careless, but I just wanted to find out what kind of training they offered so I could be more proactive in my own security.”

“And your refusal to trust me, to trust that I was saying no to that for a reason, proved what?”

“I wouldn’t know someone wanted you dead because you damn sure wouldn’t tell me,” Tatiana bit out. 

“What purpose do you think it would serve for you to know that, Tia?” Alexi asked softly. “You’re obviously worn down already. All it could do is make you do something stupid.”

“If you’d talk to me more about your work, I—”

“You’d what?” Alexi broke in. “Be more help or leave sooner?”

“Alexi,” she said, regret a stab in her chest. 

“I have work to do, people to not get killed by, so I’m going out. You can do the same if you want. No one is going to stop you ever again. Corri, get in here,” Alexi called.  

“Alexi, I love you. I don’t want—” 

“You don’t need to explain feeling trapped,” she said conversationally. “It is what it is.”

“Alexi, the feds are staking out the club,” Slate said from the doorway. “I guess they’re going to try to find out if any underage kids are working the place. Do you want to do anything?”

“About that? No. We are going out though. Corri, when Tia goes out, get her someone to go with her if she wants them.”

“Alexi,” Tatiana said, hurt zigzagging through her. 

“Slate, give me ten. I’m going up to change. While you wait, tell Galli I want her at Boys Only until I hire a manager.”

“Alexandra,” Tatiana snapped, but Alexi kept walking.

“You’re a grown-ass woman, Tatiana. You know what you need and want better than me. Go get it.” 

Tatiana let out a long slow breath, feeling the hurt she imagined Alexi had felt. She would have thought Alexi had wanted to break up had she heard that, too, and the fact she hadn’t wanted Alexi to see the note could only indicate one thing. 

Tatiana meant to act on it. 

There was no best way to fix this than by hashing it out with Alexi. 

“Alexi is under a lot of stress with Nine and the clubs,” Slate said, breaking through the screaming in Tatiana’s head. “I’m sure she’ll see reason after she’s had time to calm down.”

“She’s being an ass,” Tatiana said and charged from the room. She headed up to the bedroom where Alexi had changed into jeans and was checking a gun. “Alexandra, I know you’re hurt by what I said, but acting like you don’t give a damn—”

“Once again, I’m not going to argue with you,” Alexi said. “Now, please stop fucking with me.”

“What? Maybe I should leave your ass.”

Alexi met her gaze, still no emotion. “That wouldn’t surprise me.” She holstered the weapon. 

Her heart clenched in her chest, and Tatiana crossed the room and reached out to touch Alexi, but Alexi growled at her as she stepped out of reach. 

“I’m not doing this with you right now.” Alexi moved around her. Tatiana grabbed her arm. 

“You better not get killed tonight,” she said angrily and moved in front of Alexi, her hand still on Alexi. Tatiana reached up and brought Alexi’s head down for a brief kiss. “I mean it.”

“Damn you, Tia,” Alexi muttered, catching her in a hug and crushing her against her. She backed her to the wall as she claimed her mouth in a hard kiss. “You own me and that’s getting to be very dangerous for both of us.”

Tatiana pushed her fingers into Alexi’s short locks. “I would never try to kill you,” she murmured. “You mean too much to me.” 

“Do I? Then, why try to hide this from me?”

 “I just needed time to think of a way out without you or April being turned into targets.”

“I’m your way out of this,” Alexi growled and slammed her hand on the wall next to Tatiana’s head. “Me. I would die for you, kill to keep you safe. Don’t you know that?”

“I want you to live with me because the idea of living without you is too much for me to think about,” Tatiana snapped, gripping a handful of Alexi’s silk shirt in her fist.

Alexi rested her forehead against Tatiana’s. “That’s what makes this so dangerous,” she replied. “All I see is deception.”

“I wouldn’t betray you, honey,” Tatiana assured her softly. “I would never let anyone, especially a stranger, come between us.”

“That’s what you’re doing,” Alexi said and kissed her again.

The kiss was hard and demanding, but Tatiana tightened her grip in Alexi’s hair as Alexi’s thigh slipped between her legs. The press against her sparked fire in her, making her clit harden. 

Alexi pushed her hands beneath the t-shirt Tatiana wore with her lounge pants and nails scraped along her skin and Tatiana’s body heated, her juices gathering. 

Alexi tore her mouth from Tatiana’s to lick along the column of her throat. Then, she bit the side of her neck and Tatiana only got wetter. 

A groan escaped Tatiana as Alexi slipped a hand between them and pressed the heel against Tatiana’s clit. Alexi worked it in methodical circles that had her gasping as she got hotter. 

“Alexi,” she moaned, the sound needy. 

Alexi picked up the pace as she sucked the side of Tatiana’s neck sending shivers of pleasure racing through Tatiana. 

Tatiana arched into Alexi, her body burning for more, needing it. And Alexi gave her just enough pressure to tear a hard cry from her as she came. 

Alexi lifted her head to look down at her. “Secrets like that—”

“I made a mistake, but you don’t get to walk away, Alexandra,” Tatiana glided her hands down Alexi’s chest to her waist.  Go, do what you have to. We’ll talk later.”

* * *

The Madam Doubles Down ©2022 by Serenity Snow

Published by Evernight Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from the publisher

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Serenity Snow is an avid reader of various types of fiction with a keen interest in psychic abilities. She enjoys just relaxing and hanging out with her family.

RED WINE AND MINT CAKE BY A D EVANS

Blurb:

Lucy believed living the country life with Jaz could solve all of her problems, but Jaz was always at work and Lucy was disillusioned and bored. Lucy’s trip to Canada and flirtatious nature cause problems with her and Jaz’s relationship. Will they be able to resolve their issues and rekindle their love?

Tell us about this scene:

Lucy had moved to the Lake District and is living with her new girlfriend, Jaz. A city girl, Lucy is finding it difficult getting used to country life. Jaz has prepared a surprise birthday party to try and cheer Lucy's life.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I find this scene reflects the story. The pair are away from everyone, in what could be a dangerous situation. Lucy isn't happy, and she wants to be sure Jaz will keep her safe and protect her. It shows the couple will put themselves in bizarre situations because they love each other. Jaz's life is easy-going and stress free, Lucy's life is intense and insecure. The scene shows that their love is on the edge and one wrong move could cause the relationship to crumble. Also, the scene ends in a pub. For Jaz, a pint of beer and glass of wine seems to take away all their troubles.

* * *

Excerpt:

Leaning on a granite rock, their bodies soaked by rain, and fingers freezing in the mountain breeze, Jaz and Lucy sat and ate sausage sandwiches. 

“Darling?” Lucy said, peering into the mist. 

“Yeah.” 

“You said my birthday treat was to climb Skiddaw and experience it’s stunning views, and capture magical images with my new camera lens.” Lucy waved her hand forward, losing her fingers in the fog. “All I can see is a white void.”

Jaz stared forward at the rusty ochre rocks a few inches from her feet. “Yeah, sorry, it’s not the finest day to be out. Usually, the weather in March is better than this.” 

“Wait till it’s your birthday. I bet Causey Pike in November can be equally unappealing.”

Jaz nuzzled her face into Lucy’s, kissing her icy lips. “The best thing is, you’ll remember this birthday all your life. I bet you can’t remember your birthday last year.” 

“You’re right, it was a shit day. My life only improved when I reached Botswana and met this gorgeous woman. She was the best gift ever.” Lucy kissed Jaz, noticing the bags under her eyes. “You’ve been working too hard.” 

“Yeah, shovelling stones is tough work, and kills my muscles. I’ve got to do it, otherwise the volunteers will say I’m shirking. How’s it going for you at the library?” Jaz asked, biting through a chunk of Cumberland sausage.

“It’s fun. I’ve organised a book club every Friday afternoon, and on Tuesday, a primary school class is visiting to explore my newly created kiddies’ corner.” 

“Are you satisfied working two days a week? Don’t want you getting bored.”

Lucy linked Jaz’s arm. “My job in Manchester was more fulfilling. Have you had any thoughts of trying city life?”

“I’ve been too busy to think of anything lately.” Jaz needed to put forward an idea which would occupy Lucy’s mind, and stop her considering moving to the city. “Do you want us to have a baby?” she asked spontaneously.

“What? Where did this impromptu notion appear from?”

“It popped into my head; it’d be nice to have kids around.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love being with children. Unfortunately, it’s too late for me to give birth, having a baby will have to be your job.” 

“Ooh.” A shiver ran through Jaz’s body. “I don’t know if I could take the pain.” 

“It can be dangerous, but I survived.” Lucy rubbed Jaz’s leg. “Children are not our forte. I’ll concentrate on searching for my daughter, and you can stick to taking care of Floss.” 

“Okay, good shout.” Jaz pulled a bottle from her rucksack followed by two plastic cups. “Can I treat you to a glass of wine, my darling?”

“Won’t drinking alcohol be dangerous, we’ve got a mountain to climb down?”

“Luckily for us it’s alcohol free, so we’ll be safe.” Jaz filled the cups, handing one to Lucy. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” Lucy tasted the non-alcoholic wine. “Not bad.”

Jaz removed a packet from her pocket, opened it and broke away two pieces, passing one to Lucy. “Mint cake.”

“Mint cake and alcohol-free wine, sounds disgusting.” Lucy bit into the mint candy, chewed, swallowed and washed it down with a mouthful of wine. “Yuk, vile, tastes of mouthwash.” 

Jaz pulled her face. “I agree, not a pleasant flavour.” 

Lucy leaned on Jaz’s chest, rubbing her inner thigh with a gloved hand. “Have you ever had sex on a mountain?” 

“No! Usually, I’m open to all requests, but it’s so fucking cold I might freeze my nipples off.” Jaz kissed Lucy’s ice-cold lips. “We should start walking, the weathers supposed to go downhill this afternoon.” She began to pack the picnic utensils into her rucksack.

Breathing cool, damp air, Lucy’s eyes closed, the light mist gathering and resting on her eyelids. She savoured the peacefulness, only disturbed by howls of wind and the rustling of Jaz’s map. “You’re right, a hot bubble bath and you in bed is more enticing.”

“We should stop at the pub before we go home, and celebrate you being half a century old,” Jaz said, checking the bearings on her GPS, and tracking the gadgets course on her waterproof map. “Okay, my gizmo says it’s this way. Follow me, don’t want you getting lost. I’ll never forget the time you wandered off on our safari in Botswana.”

“Cheeky sod, I made a mistake,” Lucy said, slapping Jaz. “At least I didn’t dive into a river filled with crocodiles.”

“I was saving Jodi’s life.”

“I know, and you’re my heroine.”

Jaz led Lucy across rocky mountain paths, over rotten fences and along narrow lanes. Going through a gate, they tramped across a grassy field dotted with cow turds. Eventually, they reached Jaz’s Land Rover, parked in the car park of The Moon and Sixpence Inn.

“Blimey, what a hike, I’m aching all over.” Lucy untied her sodden boots, yanking them off and peeling away her soaked woollen socks. Squeezing them tight, the water made a puddle on the floor. She wiped her feet with a towel, and pulled on dry socks and trainers. 

“I’ll give you a rubdown with an oily rag when we get home,” Jaz said, following Lucy into the pub.

Red Wine and Mint Cake ©2020 by A D Evans

Published by A D Evans

If you enjoyed this excerpt, purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Alysia D Evans is a sapphic author. She writes contemporary sapphic romance, dystopian adventure, and historical fiction. She began writing in 2019, filling time during the Covid lockdown. This culminated in The Life of Lucy books. Red Bush and Lemon; Red Wine and Mint Cake; and Red Mist and Solace.

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS BY ADDISON CLARKE

Blurb:

Emily Crawford is entering her last year of her master’s program and is ready to be done with school. Not that she has anything figured out once she graduates. The only thing she does know is that her sexy professor is taking up too much space in her brain.

Sophia Beauchamp has struck out twice in love and doesn’t believe the third time will be the charm. That is, until the beautiful Emily Crawford shows up to her master-level English class. Sparks fly as the undeniable chemistry abounds around them.

During winter break, the two realize they’ve fallen hard and fast for each other. But when a secret surfaces, how will they overcome it to find their happily ever after?

Tell us about this scene:

Emily Crawford was given the assignment to read and critique a romance novel. She chose her professor Sophia Beauchamp's novel. No brownie points will be given for that bold move.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Sophia and Emily are two of my favorite characters in Moonflower Cove. They are fiery and funny and an absolute blast to write. This scene sets up their chemistry better than any other and for that, it is my favorite.

* * *

Excerpt:

Arriving on campus, Emily parked her car beside Alexis's in their usual spot and headed inside the English building. She wished the cold front had waited a few more days to arrive so she could at least be at home or work while it made itself at home in the Cove. Emily also regretted not stopping by the coffee cart first. But a glance at her watch told her she didn’t have any time now.

Emily found her seat in the front of the class and pulled the folder out of her backpack that contained the essay. She proudly sat it on her desk just as Sophia walked into the classroom. Sophia was wearing boots up to her knees and a dress that hugged every inch of her slender frame. Her hair—that gorgeous chestnut brown hair Emily wanted to run her hands through again—flowed perfectly off her shoulders with a shorter twist of bangs off to one side. That was a new addition to her look, Emily noted. And a welcomed one at that.

“I won’t keep you all long today.” Sophia leaned onto the podium and made eye contact with everyone in the room but Emily. “Thank you all for your hard work this semester. I wish you all good luck on the rest of your final exam. If you have chosen to take one of my classes next semester, I hope you’re prepared to work harder than you did this semester. As I am not one for sentiments, once you turn in your essays, you are free to go.”

She tapped a plastic box at the end of the desk before standing behind the podium and looking at whatever papers were in front of her. One by one, everyone in the class turned in their essays until it was only Emily and Sophia left in the room. Slowly, Emily stood and walked over to turn in her paper.

But instead of laying it on the pile on Sophia’s desk, she held it out directly to Sophia.

“Thank you, Ms. Crawford.” Sophia didn’t look up at her as she took the folder and sat it on the podium. Suddenly, her eyes bolted up and locked with Emily’s. “You critiqued my novel?”

The shock on Sophia’s face was entirely worth it to Emily. She shrugged casually as she adjusted the backpack on her shoulder.

“You said to pick a novel that explored women and sexuality.”

“I did indeed.”

“And yours did that.” Emily tapped the folder sitting on the podium. “It was very well written, might I add, but the story was just unbelievable.”

“Excuse me?”

“The lovers weren’t in love at all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sophia scoffed. “It’s a romance novel and a best seller in France, I might add.”

“Well, this is America and what Damion did to Juliette wasn’t love, it was control.”

“You Americans over romanticize everything. It’s a novel. It’s not real life.”

“It is to me.” Emily didn’t mean to snap the words the way she did, and she forced herself to calm her voice. “Real life is loving someone so much you want to keep them close and set them free all at the same time. Haven’t you ever felt that way before? Because, judging by this novel, you haven’t.”

Sophia was speechless, which Emily had only seen one other time when she’d brought her dinner on Thanksgiving. She was bemused by the dumbfounded look on Sophia’s face. It was clear she wasn’t used to being called out.

“My novel is a work of fiction, not an autobiography.” The fire was back in Sophia’s eyes and voice. “It’s been critically acclaimed across Europe. I cannot help that you Americans cannot understand that not all love stories end with a happily ever after. Life doesn’t work that way.”

“Maybe not, but that’s what I want in life.”

“That’s not realistic.”

“It can be if you find the right person. The one who challenges you, supports you, and loves you for who you are. I believe anyone can find a happily ever after.”

“Désespérément romantique.”

“Excuse me?”

“It means ‘hopeless romantic’ in French.”

“I like the way you say it.” Emily bit her bottom lip. She enjoyed the way Sophia licked her lips as she looked down at Emily’s essay in her hands. “When are you done with finals?”

“Tomorrow, but then I have to grade them all.”

“Oh.” She wished her voice didn’t sound so dejected.

“But,” Sophia looked back up at her, “I still want you to show me the wine bar. Soon.”

“And I still want to show you the wine bar. Soon.”

“Good.”

“Indeed.” Emily hesitated on carrying on the conversation or ending it there. She had time to kill before her next final. But if she stayed in the room alone with Sophia any longer, she knew exactly what would happen. “Well, I should probably go study some more before my next final.”

“Oh, okay.” If Sophia was dejected, she didn’t show it. She smiled that gorgeous smile and it melted Emily. Her studying would be significantly impeded by that look burned into her brain. “Well, you have my number and know my address. Call or stop by sometime and we’ll figure out our date for the wine bar.”

“Sounds perfect. I will. Totally.” She didn’t stop the goofy smile from spreading on her face. Sophia had a hold over her that made her feel so giddy and happy inside that Emily could feel those emotions starting to boil over. “I’ll see you soon, Sophia.”

“See you soon, Emily.”

* * *

Champagne Problems ©2022 by Addison Clarke

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

About the Author:

Addison Clarke grew up watching Disney princesses reach their happily ever after and now she writes her own modern fairy tales. She can be found tweeting at @AddisonClarke_.

Sign up here for Addison Clarke ’s author newsletter.

MY GIFT TO YOU BY ABIGAIL TAYLOR

Blurb:

The manager of a clothing store, single tomboy, Ashton, is feeling old compared to her younger staff.

As she braces herself for another busy retail season, a smartly dressed man appears at the store, informing her of an unexpected legacy from her birth mom, including a house far away.

Ashton travels to Florida to discover more about the mom she never knew and meets the neighbor's daughter, voluptuous, big-hearted Willow. The two women couldn't be more different, but each offers the other something special.

They say the right people come into our lives at the right time, like a gift, and Willow certainly feels like nothing Ashton has ever experienced.

My Gift to You is a touching lesbian romance with heartwarming characters, hot intimate scenes, and a happy ending.

Tell us about this scene:

This is Ash and Willow's first date, and they are discussing their feelings about family, life, love, and each other.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I chose this scene because it showed raw emotions and how the right people could change our perspective. Love is very powerful, and when you embrace it, everything changes in an instant.

In this excerpt, we see how Ash works through her thoughts and stops letting her past hold her back, and she finally allows her heart to dictate her actions.

I felt it was a defining moment in the story, but it was also relatable. I think a lot of people struggle with a war between their head and heart, but I hope the heart wins.

* * *

Excerpt:

The truth is, I sometimes feel a little lost, even now.” She kicked the sand, and we kept walking.

“Okay. Is there something you think would help you find what you’re looking for?” I hoped those journals from her mom might give her some clarity.

But to me, she didn’t seem lost. She appeared confident and honest and someone who knew what they wanted. It was weird how we could see people completely different from how they saw themselves.

She shrugged her shoulder. “Like I said before. I’ve always felt different from family, friends, societal expectations. I mean, I couldn’t do this…” she pulled our hands up, then brought them back down, “at home. My mom made it clear that my personal life was not to be flaunted.” She let out something between a laugh and a scoff. “Not that I have much of a personal life.”

I found that hard to believe. She was stunning. I would imagine women would be worshiping at her feet. Shit, probably men, too. Even though her style was more emo tomboy, her features were feminine and soft.

“Well, it sounds like you don’t have much choice if you are going to let your mother dictate your actions.” As the words left my mouth, I realized that sounded harsh. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

“It’s okay. I’m not overly interested in dating anyway. Most people I come in contact with just don’t do much for me. Another reason I feel less connected to others. Everyone seems to love dating and hooking up, and…” She shrugged her shoulders again, but it made me wonder why she’d asked me out then.

“Do you not want to be on a date with me?” Did she ask out of pity because I dressed up? Maybe she thought she’d throw me a bone since she was leaving anyway.

Stopping us in our tracks, she threw her shoes away from the water and turned my body to face hers. Cupping my cheeks, she stared into my eyes and said, “Absolutely not. You’re different to me. You give me these thoughts…” She swallowed hard and moved closer.

Thinking she would kiss me, I stood up a little taller, and she leaned in but stopped short and rested her forehead against mine. Did she have any idea what she was doing to me? I had to make her see she was safe with me—to do or say anything.

“What thoughts?”

Her lips got closer, and I wanted to eliminate the distance and crash my mouth against hers, but I knew she would answer in her own time. This was something I was learning very quickly about her. Everything she did was deliberate, and I wondered if she ever stopped thinking and just felt.

“Thoughts of you and me.”

“Doing what?” I didn’t care how long it took. I wanted her to let that wall down and tell me.

Without responding, she licked her lips, and I could almost feel the moisture. In less than a second, her mouth was caressing mine so gently as if she was scared I would push her away. She couldn’t have been more wrong. I’d wanted to kiss her all night, and now that it was finally happening, my heart was dancing inside my chest, and tingles were coursing through my body.

Dropping my shoes to the ground, I wrapped my arms around her neck and deepened the kiss. She needed to know how badly I wanted this. As if reading my mind, she moved her hands to my shoulders and then slid them down my back before settling on my hips. Her tongue toyed with the entrance of my mouth, and I gladly let her in. After massaging her tongue with mine, she sucked my lower lip between her teeth before pulling back.

I was short of breath and felt a little dizzy. No one had ever kissed me with so much passion and desire. But now that her lips were gone, I missed their touch. It was like my body craved her already. Before I had time to contemplate the loss further, she picked me up and laid me down in the sand as she kissed my neck. She pressed into me with her thigh between mine and nibbled on my ear.

“These thoughts. They don’t happen to me,” she whispered, and goosebumps covered my body. Taking her teeth, she grazed my jaw before placing her lips against mine once more. I rubbed my center against her leg, and she applied more pressure, giving me a much-needed friction. Her hands made their way into my hair, and her body was now firmly on top of me—breast to breast. Her hips moved in time to mine, and it had been so long since someone offered me release that I thought I would go right then.

As if sensing I was about to come undone, she stilled her movements and looked into my eyes. “I want you to lose yourself in me.”

Oh my God. I think I already did.

* * *

My Gift to You ©2022 by Abigail Taylor

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Abigail Taylor creates beautifully strong yet vulnerable female characters following a lifetime of personal experience and observation.

She highlights the importance of emotional connection in finding true fulfillment.

Abigail is influenced by her love of diversity, kindness, nature & animals to create authentic, inspiring, and enchanting stories.

Sign up here for Abigail Taylor’s author newsletter.

CABIN FEVER BY ADDISON M CONLEY

Blurb:

Kate Minton's life is collapsing. She's fired, her estranged father dies, and her girlfriend dumps her. Her older half-brothers inherit everything, and all Kate gets is a remote, rundown Idaho cabin that no one knew existed. But if Kate lives there for a year, she’ll inherit half a million dollars. The move leads her to family secrets and an infuriating, and inconveniently sexy, contractor. She goes for the money, but will she stay for something deeper?

Riley Anderson lives in rural Idaho, helping her aunt run the family store and maintaining her construction business, while also avoiding dealing with a past that continues to haunt her. When she takes on Kate’s cabin renovations, she’s not impressed with the city slicker. But as they’re forced to spend time together, they find they have more in common than either of them could have ever imagined.

Will the pull of the big city be too much to resist? Will Riley find the strength to trust Kate, or will cabin fever be too much to bear?

Tell us about this scene:

The scene depicts the friendship between Kate and her BFF, Sherry. Watching ultra-femme Sherry trying to catch a fish is humorous, but the scene ends with Kate and Riley going into the woods for a hot kiss which is only the beginning of their relationship.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It was so difficult to choose a favorite scene. Fishing in the Salmon River and its tributaries jumped out into my mind. Friendships and family play an important role alongside Kate and Riley’s evolving relationship, and everything is entwined in Idaho’s beautiful scenery. And it's the first kiss that tingles down one’s spine. That's why I chose this scene.

* * *

Excerpt:

“You didn’t say we were getting into the river.” Sherry glanced at Kate with wide eyes.

“Are you chicken?” Kate grinned.

“Bring it on. If you can do it, so can I.” She stepped forward to grab her waders and boots.

After an hour, everyone except Sherry had caught a fish. The frustration shone on her face, but Kate didn’t dare point out that it would help if she waded deeper into the river.

Sherry cast her line out again. “I got one. And he’s a strong devil.” She reeled and pulled. The steelhead thrashed out of the water, wriggling to get off the line.

“Give the line some slack,” Megan said. “Let the reel’s drag system wear the fish down. And walk a few steps into the river. You’re in too shallow.”

Sherry fought gallantly as the steelhead flipped, jumped, and thrashed. She complained about getting tired but kept at it. And with every minute that went by, she inched further into the water.

“She was so hesitant, but she’s one determined woman,” Riley said.

Kate nodded. “She’s an amazing person, and she never gives up.”

The fish appeared to have relented, but then in a flash, it darted away and sent Sherry splashing in the stream. “Oh no, you don’t.” She stood firm and grappled with the rod and reel.

Kate couldn’t believe Sherry was still fighting despite taking a bath in the icy water. Five minutes later, Sherry deposited it safely in her basket and walked to shore with her head held high.

“Let’s weigh it.” Megan pulled the fish out of the basket, and everyone gathered around, gawking at the whopper. “Twelve-point-four pounds. Congratulations, that’s one of the biggest of the entire fall season.”

“And you all didn’t think I could do it.” Sherry smiled and stood tall and proud.

“My oh, so strong ultra-femme. I love you.” Max cupped her face and kissed her.

“Honey, tonight you get to massage my aching ass. And you!” Sherry pointed to Kate. “You lost the bet. Off you go.”

“What bet?” Riley asked Kate.

“Just a small wager.” Kate kept her gaze on Sherry and her fish, but Riley continued to watch her. Heat burned across Kate’s face, and she knew it wasn’t from the fire.

“Why are you blushing?”

Kate shrugged. “I’m not.”

“Now I’m intrigued.” Riley took a metal container out of her upper breast pocket. “Mint?” She offered the box to Kate.

“Thanks.”

“Nice fishing for a beginner,” Riley said.

“Why, thank you.” Sherry turned to Kate. “Time for you to pay up.”

“Later. Isn’t it time for lunch?” Kate turned away.

“Oh, no, you don’t. A bet’s a bet.”

“I have to hear this. What’s the bet?” Max asked.

Everyone looked at Kate. There was no way she was getting out of it. She took Riley’s arm. “Let’s take a walk.” Excitement and terror rattled Kate’s brain. Don’t think. Just go with it.

“Slow down,” Riley said. “No one can hear or see us since you practically dragged us into Wyoming. What do you want to say?”

“We’re planning a hike in the next couple of days, and I was wondering if you’d go with us. And maybe you’d like to have dinner. Just the two of us. Not on the trail or fishing. A date in a restaurant. Or maybe at my house. I could cook for you.” What a hell of a time to have diarrhea of the mouth. Kate’s heart thumped in her chest.

“We’re pretty busy. I’m not sure I can get away. How about next weekend?”

“That’s great.”

Riley took a step closer. “Was that the bet? Asking me out?”

Kate’s heart went from thumping to galloping. They stood so close that she could smell the mint on Riley’s breath and see the caramel streaks in her eyes. Her nostrils filled with the heavenly scent of Riley’s woodsy cologne.

Riley rested her hand on Kate’s arm as if teasing her to go further. The sensation through Kate’s flannel shirt sent a jolt throughout her body. She trailed her fingertips down Riley’s cheek, then cupped her chin and placed a tender kiss on Riley’s soft, intoxicating lips. Kate’s body tingled in places that hadn’t for quite some time.

Slowly, she pulled back and searched Riley’s eyes for a reaction. Riley hadn’t pulled away, but neither had she returned the kiss. Kate was beginning to panic when Riley reached out and cradled her hand. She rubbed her thumb over Kate’s hand and gazed into her eyes. The simple touch of Riley’s soft fingers and the warmth of her eyes enthralled Kate. Slowly, she leaned in and kissed Kate, softly at first, then with an intensity that took Kate to dizzying heights.

Anxious to touch her, Kate slipped her fingers under the hem of Riley’s shirt and skimmed her fingertips across her stomach. Riley slid her hand down low on Kate’s back, then brushed her backside. Every inch of Kate’s skin was on fire.

“Where are you guys?” Sherry’s voice boomed in the distance.

Reluctantly, Kate broke off. “The bet was the kiss.”

“I’m not a big gambler, but I enjoyed that bet.”

“Lunch is ready. Or have you found something tastier in the woods?” Sherry’s laughter sounded closer.

“Looks like Sherry’s advice is spot on, but her timing sucks.”

Kate thumbed over her shoulder. “If we don’t show up soon, she’ll come looking for us. But I think there’s time for one more kiss.”

“Or two.” Riley pulled Kate into her arms.

The kisses that followed eased Kate’s worries. The delicious sensation of Riley’s lips and hands sent a pleasant tingle down her body, straight to her clit. Damn, this woman could kiss, and Kate didn’t want it to end.

* * *

Cabin Fever ©2023 by Addison M Conley

Published by Butterworth Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

ADDISON M CONLEY has lived in five states. Her home is now in West Virginia’s Eastern Panhandle, where she enjoys the mountains and woods and shares her home with two fur babies and tropical fish. Her hobbies included stained glass, photography, and scuba diving.

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LEXI'S CUP OF TEA BY AMBER PEREZ

Blurb:

“A woman is like a tea bag- you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”

-Eleanor Roosevelt

Lexi Nichols thought she was on the verge of fulfilling all her dreams: a successful modeling career, one-of-a-kind friends, a degree in pediatric nursing, and a drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend. But when her job aspirations hit a dead end and she finds out her “girlfriend” may not feel the same way, her world comes crashing down around her. With nothing in life living up to her expectations, she runs to her sister in Tennessee in an attempt to find the purpose she’s lost.

Van Astor, queen of one-night stands, thought she was content to spend her days at a nine to five, pursuing her passion of skateboarding on the weekends, and partaking in random hook-ups whenever the desire struck. But when her boss’s exotic sister visits for the summer, she finds herself rethinking her devil may care attitude.

When the two cross paths at a party for Lexi’s sister, their chemistry is instantaneous and undeniable, even as Lexi insists Van isn’t her type. It seems life has offered them the perfect summer setup: friends with benefits and no strings attached. With Lexi’s unwavering insistence that she return home to prove she can make it without the help of her sister, the end of summer approaches and they find themselves struggling with feelings that weren’t part of the agreement.

Can they find a way to overcome their pasts and expectations? Or will Lexi decide Van just isn’t her cup of tea?

Tell us about this scene:

Lexi and Van have a list of things they would like to try in their friends with benefits arrangement. Lexi wanted to overcome her insecurities and perform a striptease.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I just adore this scene from Lexi’s Cup of Tea. I feel it really dives into the chemistry between my characters, Lexi and Van, but also reveals their vulnerabilities. If you read the full scene in the book, you experience a conversation that reveals both Van’s insecurities with her one-night stand persona and Lexi’s feelings of inadequacy. I felt this scene was integral to the storyline in that it exposes the self-confidence issues that many struggle with, even when others see them as glamorous and confident. I really wanted to plumb the depths of esteem struggles and shine a light on the fact that we never really know how another person sees themself.

* * *

Excerpt:

"Now listen to the sexiness that is Gia Woods, and don't laugh too hard at my bumbling attempt to do this thing."

Before Van could respond, Lexi launched into her dance. It was pure irony Van had headed to a strip club the previous week. Lexi had been practicing her dance since they returned from their weekend away.

She pushed all thoughts of Van at a club from her mind and instead focused on the woman in front of her and the way she made her feel. She recalled how powerful and honored she had felt when Van allowed her to go down on her at the cabin. Lexi poured every ounce of that feeling into her dance.

She turned away from Van, looking over her shoulder as she slowly removed the robe and let it drop to the floor. Lexi smirked when Van bit her lip. That was exactly the reaction she had been hoping for.

She bent over at the waist, running her hands smoothly up her left leg from ankle to thigh. Lexi glanced around her leg to make sure she still had Van's attention. She was pleased to find Van gripping the arms of the recliner and following her every move as she stepped out of her stilettos.

In time with the pulsing of the music, Lexi unbuckled the garters from her thigh highs. She slowly rolled the stocking on her left leg down until she stepped out of it, leaving it discarded on the floor. Standing up, back still to Van, Lexi once again peered over her shoulder as she shimmied the fitted slip up and over her ass, revealing the matching G-string to Van, whose eyes widened in appreciation of all the bare skin.

Lexi bent over again until she was crouching on the floor. She spun to face Van and languidly crawled toward the recliner, her eyes never leaving Van's. When her hands hit Van's feet, Lexi unhurriedly eased her way up Van's body, running her hands seductively up Van's legs to her thighs. 

Once she was standing in front of Van, Lexi raised her right leg and rested her foot on the arm of the chair. Van's eyes widened at the sight, and she reached out to run a hand down Lexi's thigh.

Lexi playfully swatted Van's hand away, then grabbed the top of the thigh high she was still wearing. She rolled the slinky material down her leg, excruciatingly slowly, watching as desire filled Van's eyes. After removing it from her foot, Lexi wrapped the stocking around Van's neck like a scarf. 

In time with the music, she crossed her hands, still holding on to opposite ends of the thigh high, deliberately tightening the material around Van's neck like a noose. She pulled tighter, watching Van suck in a breath as the effort had its intended effect. Lexi leaned in and kissed Van, just once, and released the stocking, causing Van to draw in a deep breath.

"Holy fuck, Lex." Van's breathing was ragged as her chest heaved with excitement.

Lexi licked her lips bewitchingly and took a step back from the recliner. She swayed and gyrated in time with the song, leisurely removing her outfit bit by bit until she was dancing in front of Van in nothing but her purple G-string. 

She made her way back to the recliner; her gaze locked on Van the entire time. Desire flowed between them like a physical touch. Eyes bright with need, each breathed hard, fighting for restraint. Lexi rubbed her body against Van's, her moves coming naturally as if they did this regularly.

The self-consciousness Lexi had grappled with was nowhere to be seen. All that mattered was Van. Van's eyes on her. Van growing more aroused with each movement of Lexi's body. Van's breath washing against Lexi's face as she straddled her lap.

The song was nearing its end, and Lexi was nearing the end of her self-control. She needed to feel Van on her, against her, in her. Thankfully, Van must have noticed the need emanating from Lexi.

"Can I please touch you now, Lex?"

"If you know what's good for you, you will," Lexi taunted.

Van grabbed a handful of Lexi's hair and pulled her lips against hers in a crushing kiss. Passion built to a frantic level as their tongues swirled and Lexi's body pressed harder against Van's.

Van rubbed her fist against Lexi's crotch, the silky material quickly becoming soaked by Lexi's arousal. Van growled in frustration. "I need to feel you."

She quickly pulled her pocketknife out, flicked it open, and carefully, but deliberately, slit the side straps on Lexi's G-string, pulling the pieces from her and tossing them on the floor along with the knife. "Those were sexy as fuck, but in the way. I'll buy you another pair."

* * *

Lexi's Cup of Tea ©2023 by Amber Perez

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Amber grew up on the east coast but currently makes her home in Northern California. She cheers for the Dallas Cowboys and enjoys scrapbooking, planning her next tattoo, and being an amateur grease monkey tinkering on her Jeep. She is addicted to crime documentaries, coffee, and anything Snoopy.

THE VISITOR BY ANGELA MCKENNA

Blurb:

Secrets. Lies. Love?

Lesbian Professor Helen Miller arrives in England from America. The last thing she expects is to be lodging with her friend Sophie’s reserved and anxious mother, Ingrid, but Sophie has told a big lie which pushes them all together under one roof and when Ingrid catches them both in what appears to be a compromising position, sparks fly.

Helen lurches from one calamity to another as she attempts to navigate through the storm of a family drama, teetering on the verge of being cast out, but desperate to stay. You see, despite Ingrid’s angry words and cold demeanour, Helen likes her, in fact, she likes her rather a lot and she’s wondering if, underneath all that cold fury, Ingrid likes her too...

With only three weeks left until she must return home to San Francisco, Helen fights for the true love she has always craved but will her own past, and Sophie’s lies, wreck any chance of future happiness? The clock is ticking.

Tell us about this scene:

This is the scene where, after quite a bit of angst, Ingrid finally reveals to Helen that she has romantic feelings for her, and they share their first kiss.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

From the moment I typed the first word of The Visitor, I always knew Helen and Ingrid would reach this point. What I didn't know then was that to get there, all three of us would ride an emotional rollercoaster quite unlike anything I'd experienced before. The action takes place in Ingrid's car, and I swear, when the scene was playing out, I felt like I was sitting in the back seat, eyes swivelling from one to the other as they each tried to say what needed to be said. It was truly a visual experience for me - like I was watching a film - and it was an emotional one as well because I was so desperate for them to find love in each other. Needless to say that the scene unfolded faster than my fingers could type! It's stuck with me, and it'll always be one of my favourites.

And, of course, there's the spaghetti reference. The scene prior to this one sees Helen and Ingrid heading for an Italian restaurant, and Helen clumsily mentions the film Lady and The Tramp (one of my all-time favourites) and how they both share spaghetti but end up almost kissing!

* * *

Excerpt:

Helen took the bag and flicked her eyes up to Ingrid’s smiling face. “I hope this isn’t a Prince Charles tea towel because I have dozens of those, and I’m running out of places to store them.” She reached into the bag and gasped as she pulled out a small brown bear, kitted out in a blue coat and red hat ensemble, the sight of him causing Helen to throw back her head back and laugh, beaming back at Ingrid. “I think this is where I’m supposed to say something like you shouldn’t have, but I can’t; I love him, in fact...I love him more because you bought him for me.” “I am so glad,” said Ingrid, looking delighted by the reaction. “I saw him and thought of you at once, and it was irresistible.”

“He’s amazing.” Helen held the bear up in front of her. “And I think I could rock his style; what d’you think?” She turned to Ingrid, expectation burning in her eyes.

“I think you could do anything. In fact,” Ingrid tapped at the gearstick with the fingers of one hand, “I have never met any woman like you.”

Helen sighed and tipped her head to the side. “Yeah, I’m sure you don’t meet many women as assured of their own magnificence as I am.” She smiled. “I’m just sorry you find it unattractive.” 

Ingrid moved her hand from the gearstick and reached out, gesturing for Helen to pass the bear over, and once she had him, she set about sorting the toggles on his coat and straightening his hat. “I did say those words, but it was only half true.” She handed back the bear.

“So you don’t think I’m assured of my own magnificence, is that what you’re saying?” 

 “Oh no, you are assured of that, on a subconscious level perhaps, but you are assured of it somewhere within you.” Ingrid went back to rubbing the gearstick. “I was wrong to say it was unattractive.”

“I see,” said Helen, feeling her stomach flip as she glanced out at the emptiness of the car park. “The other day, you said I was dangerous, but I’d never do you harm, so why am I dangerous?”

“I did not mean you would harm me.” Ingrid stopped scratching the gearstick and brought her hand back to her lap. “I meant you could convince people anything was possible for them, even if it might not be right for them or could be dangerous.” 

“Have I done that to you?” Helen pushed the bear onto the dashboard to jam him against the windscreen, a sudden surge of heat washing over her neck as her heart boomed and thumped in her chest.

“Yes, you have,” said Ingrid in a quiet voice. “Very much so.”

“In what way?” The bright headlights of a van swept over them as it left the car park, illuminating the car interior and allowing Helen to get a clear look at the tension etched on Ingrid’s face. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” 

Ingrid shielded her eyes from the glare and then looked around at the almost deserted car park before meeting Helen’s gaze. “It is very quiet here.” Her voice trembled. “So few cars.”

“I know, and it’s dark too.” Helen lifted the bear from the dashboard and put him back into his bag.

“I think...I think this might be a good place for eating spaghetti. Would you like to do that here?”

Helen felt icy needles of adrenaline rushing through her, flashing over her head and down towards her feet, all the tension collapsing under its own weight. “I wasn’t sure you would...well...the thing is, yes, I would love to eat spaghetti here, but only if it was with you.” She hesitated for a few seconds before going on, knowing once she said it, there was no going back. “I think you might be my special person, as strange as that might seem.” Helen heard the tremor in her voice, and she felt her hands tremble as she reached up to move some hair from her eyes. 

Ingrid rubbed at her neck and chin but kept her gaze steady. “You make me feel so nice, Helen, but also afraid because it is so nice.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “But it is not so afraid, I think.”

Helen nodded, still shaking, and charmed that after all her years in Gravesend, Ingrid’s English fractured a little because she was nervous. She took a deep breath of her own and reached out to hold one of Ingrid’s hands, relieved when she encountered no resistance. They sat that way for several minutes until Helen broke the silence. “If we go beyond talking about this, then you need to know the genie will be out, and I’m telling you, he’s a big genie, and he won’t go back into the bottle. This has to be your choice.”

Ingrid nodded and gripped Helen’s hand. “I am choosing to open the bottle with you.”

Helen smiled and leaned over, cupping the side of Ingrid’s face with her free hand. “You’ve no idea how good it is to hear you say that.” She leaned in and kissed her on the lips, making sure it was slow and gentle, thrilled by Ingrid’s first tentative response, which soon became more urgent. Within a minute, they sat locked together in a passionate kissing session, breaking apart every so often to smile and look at each other before starting again. 

“We have to stop.” Ingrid pulled back and brushed Helen’s hair away from her face. “It is too much, and I do not think here is the right place.” 

Helen laughed and kissed Ingrid’s chin and down her neck before pulling back herself. “I know, me too.” She glanced around the car park. “Any further, and it’s past the point of no return.”

Ingrid nodded. “We have to go home.” 

* * *

The Visitor ©2020 by Angela McKenna

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available on Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

AngelaMcKenna is a Scottish author who had a mid-life crisis in 2019, and then, after getting several tattoos, and buying a big car, wrote her first novel, The Visitor, in 2020.

WHERE THE HEART LEADS BY ALLY MCGUIRE

Blurb:

A stunt car driver, an MI5 agent, a gigolo… Finn Montoya tells everyone she meets she has a different profession. It’s all part of keeping people at a distance while still being a part of the world around her. Really, she’s an accomplished writer who has taken being a mystery to heart. At least that way, she can stay safe. Under no circumstances can her past catch up with her.

Angie Davis just wanted some simple time with her daughter. But when the paparazzi swarm the café she and Luna are at, she has no choice but to accept the help of a handsome stranger who is watching the chaos play out. When Luna develops a friendship with that stranger, Angie’s unsure how to handle it. But the more time Angie spends with her, the more she wants to be in Finn’s arms.

Against her better judgement, Finn allows herself to be drawn to the promise of something real with Angie, but when the celebrity spotlight threatens to derail her safe existence and expose her secrets, it isn’t only their hearts in danger. Is love worth the risk?

Tell us about this scene:

Finn has joined her bird-watching group and is contemplating the risk of change. She's speaking with Gertrude, the leader of the Wing Watchers, who uses an example from her own life to help Finn move forward.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love writing quirky secondary characters, and I'm particularly fond of Gertrude and her colorful personality. Using secondary characters as a way to dig into the main character's emotional baggage is always lots of fun.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Seems like we’re doomed to have our hearts broken no matter which way we turn. Love someone with your whole heart and feel like a part of you has been ripped away when you lose them. Choose not to love and spend the rest of your life wondering what it would feel like to be someone’s moon and stars.” 

“I’d take losing a limb any day. All those beautiful memories are worth the pain of not having him now. My life with him was like the Wizard of Oz. Dull and gray before, a world of color and adventure after.” Gertrude stood and brushed off the jeans that hung loose on her thin frame. “Seems to me you need to find your color, Dorothy.” 

She sauntered off, whistling, and then called to the other bird watchers to head farther up the path, deeper into the woods, in the hopes of seeing something winged and wonderful. 

Find my color. Finn thought of the colors surrounding her grandmother’s funeral. The color of the shawl the woman in the cemetery had been wearing. The black of her father’s eyes.  Finn had been trying to get hold of Pablo for the last several days, but he hadn’t answered his phone. That wasn’t terribly unusual. He was busy and it was often hard to get hold of him. But she needed to ask him about the woman in the cemetery. She needed to read her abuela’s letter, but she needed Pablo on the line while she did it. Somehow, she couldn’t find the courage to do it alone. 

Find my color. The thought brought with it an image of Angie’s smile. The way she lit up a room, the way her laugh made rainbows dance across the air. She thought of the way Luna looked at her, head cocked like a curious, wary animal. They were color personified, shifting and moving in the light to display the deeper shades of what it was to be human. 

The flirtation with Angie at the coffee shop had been electrifying. Holding her delicate hand, feeling the genuine desire from Angie to know more about her. It had been a long time since someone had wanted to really know Finn. The occasional hook-ups meant only to scratch a sexual itch were never about getting to know one another beyond the biblical sense. Friendships that moved beyond the topics of birds or books were taboo and had been since the moment she’d left her childhood home behind. But Angie and Luna had slipped past her defenses, and it was becoming difficult to want to keep them at arm’s length. Hell, she didn’t want any length at all coming between her and Angie. But damn the complications of it all. 

The temptation to take Angie out on date one was consuming. Tossing and turning at night, she’d imagined what a date would consist of. What it would mean. But why did it have to mean anything?

Because of Luna. Because Angie wasn’t looking for a bit of itch-scratching. Because they were special. 

She sighed and tilted her face to the sun. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out. 

Do I constantly have to make the first move? I’m going to get a complex. Most people can’t wait to ask me out. A.

Finn grinned, her heart thumping a little harder in response to Angie’s text. You’ll find, I think, that I’m not like most people. And now that you’ve made the first move, I can follow up without fear of blood-curdling rejection. Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night? 

She waited, her thumb tap-tap-tapping the side of the phone. This was a bad idea that she desperately wanted to be a good one. 

Date one. What time? 

Seven-thirty. McDonald’s okay? 

Perfect. Only if you buy me a happy meal and let me keep the toy. See you tomorrow. Xo.

Finn put her phone back in her pocket and looked up as a shadow crossed her. 

“Looks like you might have found yourself a crayon, at least, if that smile is anything to go by.” Gertrude squeezed her shoulder. “I’m calling it a day. It’s too hot, and the Wingers aren’t watching closely enough.” 

Finn caught Gertrude’s hand and tucked it in the crook of her arm as they walked back to the parking lot. “Are you okay?”

Gertrude nodded slowly. “Growing old isn’t for the weak, kiddo. You keep going even when it feels like your body is made of old spaghetti covered in grits.” She gave a choked, somewhat sad, laugh. “And that’s what you look like, too.” 

Saying anything in response would have been disingenuous, and Finn wasn’t one to sugarcoat or deny. Her mother had always said to deny an old person was old was to deny their experience of the world. 

“You have my number if you need anything.” Finn knew better than to ask if Gertrude wanted help. She had her pride. 

“I do, and maybe one day I’ll take you up on it.” She squeezed Finn’s bicep before letting go. “Now, it’s time for you to pick up that crayon.” She got into her car and waved as she drove away. 

Finn lowered the tailgate of her truck and sat on it, swinging her legs as she looked up romantic restaurants in the area. When she settled on one, she called and made a reservation. How long had it been since she’d been on an actual date? The resulting calculation sent anxious butterflies into overdrive. Years. Was she still up to it? Especially with a woman like Angie, who was probably used to the very best of everything. 

* * *

Where the Heart Leads ©2023 by Ally McGuire

Published by Butterworth Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

About the Author:

ALLY MCGUIRE lives in the UK with her wife. Social media frightens the bejesus out of her, as does the human race generally. She writes WLW fiction to escape into the far more pleasant world in her head.

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AWAKENING SOULS: A TALE OF LOVE RECOVERED BY ANGIE K. LOVE

Blurb:

From award-winning author of Awakening Hearts: A Tale of Love Across Lifetimes.

A serendipitous reconnection. A trip to France. A powerful attraction that never waned. Does true love grant second chances?

Alex: There’s my Sage, looking more beautiful than ever! What are the odds I’d run into her the first time I’m on a date—with a woman? My heart and body have always wanted her, but my faith led me to walk away seventeen months ago . . .

When she asks me to join her on a trip to France, my head spins. Is this God giving me a second chance? Will I be able to show up in the way Sage deserves if I say yes, or will my old demons and guilt come back to haunt me?

Sage: My body and heart respond to Alex as strongly as ever, while my mind’s apparently already on vacation. I hear myself invite her on my trip to France . . . What am I thinking?!

I know the pain of losing her intimately—but she’s clearly been working on herself, and I, too, have been doing my own healing. Still, is it crazy to risk my heart a second time?

Can love overcome all obstacles and mend old wounds?

Awakening Souls: A Tale of Love Recovered is a second chance, slow burn lesbian romance. It is the sequel to Awakening Hearts: A Tale of Love Across Lifetimes. It can be read as a standalone; however reading Awakening Hearts—before or after—will lend greater depth to the story.

Tell us about this scene:

Sage and Alex are returning to California after a trip to France, where they found their way back into each other's hearts (and bodies). On the plane, Alex tries to make up for a faux pas that left Sage feeling hurt.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene showcases the chemistry between Sage and Alex without giving away all the juiciest bits, hopefully leaving the reader wanting more. It also depicts Alex's humanity—she makes mistakes, as we all do, but she's willing to recognize them and make up for them, eager to show Sage (in this case with her body) how strong her feelings for her are.

* * *

Excerpt:

Sage gets up first, and I watch her walk down the aisle toward the lavatories in the middle of the plane. My eyes follow the movement of her hips, my mind already imagining the things I’ll do to her.

I’m honestly surprised by how little convincing she required. I wasn’t sure if she would go for it.

When I saw the hurt in her eyes, I wanted only to make things okay—to close the space between us and show her with my body how much I want her. To let her know without a doubt that she is mine, and I am hers.

I feel like an ass for what I said to my dad. I should have known better, but sometimes I say things that come out entirely different from what I intended. And, most of the time, I’m utterly unaware of my gaffe until someone points it out.

I wait a few moments, then follow Sage and catch up with her in the center divide near the bathrooms.

Shoot, there’s another person in line behind her. I can’t sneak in after her with this lady here.

A guy comes out of one of the bathrooms, and Sage turns to the woman behind her. “Why don’t you go first? I’m in no rush—just stretching my legs.”

Smart, Sage.

I flash her a complicit grin.

As luck would have it, the next bathroom that opens up is the only large one of the four with handicap access. That’s the beauty of international flights—everything isn’t quite as tightly crammed, even in coach.

Sage goes in first, glancing back at me as she holds the door open, and I slip in behind her just as a flight attendant rounds the corner. I don’t think she saw Sage—only me. Whew!

We both giggle like schoolgirls who narrowly escaped being caught doing something illicit.

I never did anything forbidden as a schoolgirl. I was a good kid. Maybe I need to make up for lost time . . .

Sage eyes me questioningly, waiting for me to take the lead. That’s fair, I am the one who initiated this.

This is still new to me, this taking charge thing. I never really had the guts to do it before. So many deeply ingrained beliefs kept me from letting myself fully give way to my desires. But I can see how much of a turn-on it is for Sage, and that gets my own fire going—even more than it already was.

She leans back against the sink, still eyeing me hesitantly. I’m sure she’s as surprised as I am that we’re both here on my initiative.

I step toward her, pressing my hips against hers, then take her face in both my hands and kiss her softly on the lips. That simple contact gets my heart pumping. I part my lips, breathing against her mouth, then take her lower lip between mine, sucking on it. Sage makes a little moaning sound, spurring my want for her yet further.

My tongue seeks entrance to her mouth, and she willingly lets me in, her own tongue finding mine, moving in sync with it.

I never knew how good kissing could feel until I met Sage.

Okay, kissing Zoë wasn’t bad, either—but we were both so young and inexperienced. It wasn’t . . . It wasn’t this.

My hands roam down the sides of Sage’s body, lifting her shirt and touching her warm skin. When they move back up and reach her breasts, I moan. Her skin is so soft, so smooth. I ease my fingers under the fabric of her bra and find her nipple, squeezing it. The sounds she makes . . . her gasps . . .

A sudden jolt of turbulence jostles us, and Sage grabs on to me to steady us both, wrapping her arms around my waist. A second jolt right after gives us a thorough shaking—but, fortunately, things quickly mellow out, and the ride becomes smooth again.

Resuming my previous activity, I slide one hand down the front of Sage’s body until I reach the waistband of her jeans. Slipping my fingertips beneath it, I run them right along the edge, enjoying teasing her. She inhales sharply, arching her back, exposing her neck. I kiss it, moving her hair out of the way with one hand, the other undoing the button of her jeans, wasting no time finding its way into her moisture.

Oh gosh, she is so wet!

A muted groan escapes my throat. Good thing the drone of the engines is loud, otherwise for sure anyone waiting to use the bathroom would hear us!

I drag my fingers up and circle, the sounds coming from Sage so hot, her breathing heavy. Burying my face into her neck, I grasp her hair, bringing her mouth right to my ear.

Her breath against me, the sounds she makes . . . It turns me on so much.

I slide my fingers back inside her, reaching as deep as I can go, my fingertips rubbing the spot that I know drives her wild. I can tell she’s close . . . I flick my fingers, kissing her neck, feeling her exhalation hot against my cheek. Her breathing quickens, and I accelerate my rhythm, determined to bring her over the edge.

Just then, there’s pounding on the door.

* * *

Awakening Souls: A Tale of Love Recovered ©2022 by Angie K. Love

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available on Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

ANGIE K. LOVE has worked in holistic healthcare for close to two decades (first as an acupuncturist, now as a Reiki practitioner and spiritual coach), finding deep fulfillment in helping people heal in body, mind, and spirit. Through her writing, she hopes to bring healing to people's hearts and souls.

Sign up here for Angie K. Love ’s author newsletter.

LOVE ON COMMISSION BY CAITLIN RYAN

Blurb:

Tori Wilson should have things figured out by now. She doesn't. Forced to move home in her thirties and take a job working at her dad's real estate agency, the last thing on her mind is romance. Until she finds herself attracted to her new mentor.

Bianca Scott doesn't have space in her life for anything new. She's a successful real estate agent with a cat, great friends, and a close community at the youth group she runs. It's been ten years since she saw Tori Wilson. They weren't friends in high school and there's no reason for that to change now.

Forced to work together, these enemies risk losing everything if they can't find a way to work together. And fast.

Tell us about this scene:

Tori is a giant klutz, whose first action in her new workplace is to spill coffee all over Bianca's things.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I can see myself so clearly in both Bianca and Tori in this scene. I'm both the disaster who would spill coffee everywhere and the one who would be terribly upset about my belongings being ruined.

With every character I create, a little of myself gets thrown in. As I was writing this novel, I was just coming to understand that I have ADHD, which has helped to explain so much of these two warring parts of myself—on one hand, the part that needs order and discipline (much like Bianca), then on the other hand the part that lives for chaos, but is also just a little clumsy (Tori).

Also, it's just a fun scene.

I'm a huge fan of enemies to lovers, especially in that early phase where there's just boatloads of tension between them.

* * *

Excerpt:

Everything I owned smelled of coffee. Everything. 

I traipsed to the kitchen for an anti-bacterial wipe, grasping Victoria’s bag and coat and dumping them on one of the empty desks, as far from mine as possible. 

I hated her. 

She had managed to single-handedly ruin my morning and it wasn’t even nine. What a bitch.

Victoria Wilson. 

Why had I never made the connection between Jason Wilson who owned Wilson Real Estate and the twins from high school.

It had been ten years since I saw Victoria Wilson or her sister, Madeleine. The twins. I hadn’t followed either of them on MySpace, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, LinkedIn, or whatever other place I could have connected with them. 

Nor had I made the connection between them and my boss. In my defense, Jason looked too young to have daughters who were thirty-three.

I blotted at the items on the desk, still cursing Victoria. 

They’d been everywhere in high school. Loud and obnoxious, and friends with everyone. 

This was a nightmare. 

The files weren’t a huge issue. Those I could print again easily. The notebook, that I was pissed about. Also the interruption to my morning. I only had an hour to get caught up on my emails before I headed to an off-site meeting, and bloody Victoria had already taken up ten of them with her clumsiness. 

I just hoped that wasn’t going to be a metaphor for her time at the agency, which I hoped would be short. A little stepping stone before she moved onto bigger and better things. Far away from me. One could always hope, right?

I glared at her bag and coat, they weren’t even nice. The bag was so old that sections of the fake leather had begun to scrape away with use. And what about that shirt? It was cute sure, but it wasn’t meeting clients appropriate. I took a deep breath, centering myself. Bringing others down to make myself feel better was not the way to get ahead. Let it go, Bianca.

I grabbed for my notebook, using the fresh supply of paper towels to soak up the coffee as best I could. It was a nice notebook, at least it had been. The paper was 220GSM and so soft to the touch. Almost nothing bled through to the next page. Dotted like all good paper should be. I took it everywhere. Worst of all, it was nearly new. A replacement for my old, battered notebook that I’d treated myself to as an early birthday present. Okay, it was still six months until my birthday, so it was really just a gift to myself.

It would take weeks for another one to arrive. Well, maybe not weeks, but at least a week. I flipped ahead a few pages, wondering if it could be salvaged, but even the fancy 220GSM paper couldn’t make up for the coffee having dripped down the side of the notebook and soaking the edge of every damn page. Even the fancy fabric cover was coated in it. At least the navy blue didn’t show up as badly as a lighter color would have.

Maybe not worse, but just as frustrating, today’s notes were barely legible.

I snatched a spare notebook from my drawer. A basic notebook from the office supplies that would just have to do until I got a chance to order a new one. I squinted, trying to see what I’d written on my list for today. Call George? Georg? Georgia? No, it was Georgie. Call Georgie. Painstakingly, I went about rewriting the list of tasks for the day, then added reprint files to the bottom of the list.

I’d just finished with my list when Victoria reappeared, trailing behind her father like a lost, little puppy. Not just any puppy, a goddamn golden retriever. Her honey-colored hair was pulled back in one of those messy buns that I could never pull off. She was a little rough around the edges but cute enough that people didn’t care. 

Nepotism at its worst.

A reminder of a high school experience I would rather leave in the past.

“Ah, good, you’re still here.” Jason’s voice did not invite discussion. “I trust you met Victoria, my daughter?”

“Tori,” the golden retriever corrected.

I nodded, trying to pretend she wasn’t there. 

“Great. Victoria, this is my best agent, Bianca Scott. She’s been here for a couple of years, she’s got a fantastic handle on the basics.” He paused, and I worried that I knew what was coming next, and I definitely wasn’t going to like it.

“Bianca, I’d like you to show Victoria the ropes around here.”

I watched Victoria bristle slightly at the use of her full name.

“She’s going to shadow you, and I’d like you to put aside some time to walk the Pearson place with her. She’s going to take over the listing. I’d love for you to do a mock open inspection and show her how to really sell the space to the clients.”

“The Pearson place?” I asked. The initial contact with the Pearsons had been mine. We’d met at another open house a few months earlier. They were looking to purchase a property but hadn’t found someone to sell theirs yet. They’d initially gone with a larger company but they weren’t happy with their treatment there. Mrs. Pearson had remembered meeting me at the open house, remembered liking my outfit and my shoes, urged her husband to give the company a call. 

How was this Victoria’s listing? She’d never even sold so much as a doll house as far as I knew.

“Yes,” Jason answered, leaving no room for questions.

I squared my shoulders just as my mother had taught me. It took every lesson on poise to remain calm. “That’s great,” I managed to bite out, forcing a smile onto my face. It wasn’t great.

Victoria—Tori, I corrected—smiled sweetly. “So, where do I sit?” she asked.

Anywhere that wasn’t here.

* * *

Love on Commission ©2021 by Caitlin Ryan

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Caitlin is a self-confessed romantic who loves a happy ending. She's a queer, neurodivergent Aussie who spends her free time reading or at the beach.

Sign up here for Caitlin Ryan ’s author newsletter.

THE CONSEQUENCES OF FALLING BY DDALE

Blurb:

When a lonely rideshare driver picks up a mysterious older woman, it turns their lives inside out.

Andie Fitz is down on her luck and struggling to reclaim the life she had before a debilitating work accident robbed her of everything she loved.

Kate Mayer is raging against her powerlessness and grief while the ravages of dementia lay waste to her wife of 38 years.

As the two form an unlikely bond, they’re forced to confront their notions about love, desire, and the age gap that separates them.

Will they take a chance on each other or let their differences keep them apart?

Tell us about this scene:

For days, Andie has tried to get closer to Kate, showing up unbidden and offering to drive Kate home from the Memory Center where Kate's wife is a resident. Finding herself thwarted on every attempt, Andie gives it one more try and finally talks Kate into having coffee.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I chose this scene because I love beginnings and these are the tentative first steps in Kate and Andie’s dance. It’s the moment when they open their eyes and really see each other — when they let down their defenses and connect for the first time. We see Andie’s blind curiosity yield to discovery and Kate’s wariness give way to trust. It’s that tender, hopeful point before the emotional roller coaster of passion, love, disappointment, and redemption. When possibility quietly taps them on the shoulder and they say, “Maybe…”

* * *

Excerpt:

Andie parked in front of The Java Jive Coffee Shop in Regent Square and eased out of the CR-V. Grabbing her retractable cane, she extended it and slowly made her way to where Kate stood waiting.

“Long story,” Andie said, responding to Kate’s questioning look.

Kate ordered a large Colombian with cream, no sugar. Andie opted for a latte with a hit of hazelnut syrup. They sat down at a small table and sipped their coffee in awkward silence for a moment.

“Tell me about the cane,” Kate said.

“Back injury. I fell off a scaffold and my safety harness failed.”

“What were you doing on a scaffold?”

“Restoring the gilding on the ceiling of Saint Bridget’s Chapel. I’m a commercial painter and wallpaper hanger by trade. Been doing it for almost ten years.” Andie paused and sipped her coffee. “The day I fell, I had everything set up the way I always did. I don’t know what went wrong. I’ve gone over it thousands of times and I don’t remember anything being out of place. All I remember is losing my balance and landing on the floor.”

“How far did you fall?”

“Almost ten feet.” 

Kate winced.

“Yeah. I fractured three vertebrae in my lower back. Unfortunately for me, the orthopedic surgeon who tried to fix me only made it worse. Then to add insult to injury, the idiot released me way too soon and the insurance company moved to cut off my workers’ comp. So now my lawyer is trying to work out a settlement, but that takes forever.”

“Is that why you’re driving?”

“Yeah. When my benefits ran out, I had to do something for money, so I got into the rideshare gig. I can set my own hours and take breaks when I need to. Anyway, enough about me. Tell me about you.”

“Not much to tell, really,” Kate said. “I’m retired and my wife is in the Memory Center.”

“What did you do before you retired?”

“I was the Senior VP of the corporate tax division at Gibson Jacobs Accounting. My specialty was forensic accounting. If a business was suspected of cooking their books, I was the one who figured out how they were doing it.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Oh, it was.”

“What about your wife? What did she do?”

“She was an artist. Vivian Waters. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”

Andie thought for a moment. “No, can’t say that I have.”

“Well, her heyday was before your time. She’s one of the prominent feminist artists who emerged during the seventies like Judy Chicago and Barbara Kruger. And she’s still a legend in the art world.”

“How did you meet?”

“Some friends and I went to a gallery opening of her work. I was fascinated with Vivian’s paintings. But Vivian was fascinated with me. So, she introduced herself and gave me a guided tour.”

“Well, I can see why—” Andie blurted out. 

Kate shifted uncomfortably and looked away. 

“I mean, well…so…how long have you been together?” Andie said, walking back her remark.

“Thirty-eight years.” 

“How did Vivian end up in the Memory Center—if you don’t mind my asking?”

“She developed vascular disease in her brain. She began having mini strokes about four years ago. The doctor calls them TIAs—transient ischemic attacks. At first, she was forgetful and we chalked it up to her age—she’s seventy-five now. But then she started having trouble with her speech and balance. So we went to our family doctor who referred us to a neurologist, who sent us to a dementia specialist, who spent a week doing brain scans and tests, and then told us there was very little he could do. And now, here we are.”

“I’m so sorry. That must be awful for you.”

“Well, I suppose I’ve become accustomed to it.”

“But you go to the Memory Center every day. It can’t be easy.”

“Where else would I be? I’m not going to abandon Vivian simply because she’s not herself anymore.”

“Does she recognize you?”

Kate sighed. Gazed into her cup. “No. Not for a long while.” She sipped her coffee. “So, what other interests do you have?” she asked, redirecting the conversation.

“I love downhill mountain bike racing, but that’s off the table. Obviously.”

Kate picked up on the edge to Andie’s reply. “And not being able to race makes you angry?”

“Not being able to race rips my heart out. Being a victim of our half-assed medical system makes me angry. If they do right by you, you’re golden. But if they screw up, you’re on your own. I need a second surgery to fix my back. And I would have had it by now if the stinking insurance company hadn’t pulled my workers’ comp.”

“So you don’t have any insurance at all?”

“I got coverage through the ACA portal but it has a five-thousand-dollar deductible, so what good is it? I need the settlement to pay for surgery and PT.”

“Well, I hope things work out for you.” Kate finished her coffee. Tapping the side of the cup, she considered the question she really wanted to ask. Finally, she said, “Andie, how old are you?”

“Thirty-two. Why?”

“What could you possibly want with an old hag like me?”

“I’d like to get to know you. What does age have to do with that? And you’re not a hag. Far from it.”

“So, you think age is just a number?”

“Yeah. Don’t you?”

“Oh, yes. One that gets bigger and uglier every year.” Kate glanced at the clock above the coffee bar. “I should probably be going.” She began to rise.

“Wait—” Andie said, grasping her hand. “I—uh—thanks.”

“For what?”

“For giving me a chance.”

Once again, Andie drew her in with those deep coffee eyes. Once again, little butterflies flittered and danced. “Well,” Kate said. “You went to a lot of bother getting me here.” A hesitant smile crossed her face.

* * *

The Consequences of Falling ©2022 by DDale

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

DDale writes about older lesbians who are still raising hell and living out loud. In past lives she’s been a copywriter, graphic designer, musician, and artist. She and her wife share ten acres in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with two rotten cats and a small flock of pampered hens.

Sign up here for DDale ’s author newsletter.

HONEY IN THE MARROW BY EMILY WATERS

Blurb:

Stella Carter is a former criminal prosecutor and new widow facing down middle age alone in Los Angeles. Without being a prestigious lawyer and someone’s wife, she’s not sure who she is anymore or where her life is headed.

When she invites her niece to move in with her, Stella accidentally reconnects with her former colleague, LAPD Captain Elizabeth Murphy. The woman is beautiful but cold; someone she was always at odds with on the job.

Surprisingly, Stella finds herself leaning on her niece and Elizabeth more and more to navigate her loss. But as time goes on, Stella can’t keep seeing Elizabeth and pretending she’s not attracted to her. Besides, there’s absolutely no way Elizabeth feels the same way. Is there?

Tell us about this scene:

Stella and Elizabeth have been dancing around one another. They've both never been with another woman, but are drawn to one another and it's about to spill over.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene has so much yearning. They both have such strong feelings for one another but are afraid to cross the line into something more romantic because they aren't sure their feelings are reciprocated. In fact, Stella is pretty sure she's projecting and her attraction is one sided, but the more time they spend with one another, the closer they get. They've shared a bed, hugged, flirted, and have spent so much time together. This is the scene that plants the seed in Stella that something is happening here and the reader is certain they're both going to snap, but it doesn't happen, which makes the yearning all the more potent. And the added layer of Stella's family being just on the other side of the wall and open window makes it feel a little bit illicit, which heightens the sweet tension.

* * *

Excerpt:

Elizabeth lets herself in just as Addie is carrying the food out the back slider. Joyce

seems surprised that she just walks in the door, but Elizabeth’s warmth is disarming. “You must

be Addison’s mother!” She smiles broadly, takes Joyce’s hand in both of hers. “I’m so happy to

meet you!”

Stella introduces her to Thom, who remembers her from Ron’s service. Stella will never

admit that she doesn’t remember him being there. Elizabeth compliments Addie until Addie begs

her to stop. By then, Thom and Joyce like Elizabeth better than anyone else in the room. That’s

Elizabeth’s gift. She can warm you right up or cool you right down. Stella has seen both sides.

The string lights that Addie hung come to life halfway through the meal and add to the

ambiance. Stella sits next to Elizabeth. Their chairs are so close that their armrests are touching,

and they spend the whole meal bumping elbows.

When Stella finishes eating, she excuses herself, thinking to start on the dishes, maybe

find a little alone time to counterbalance a suddenly overwhelming number of people in her

house. But the sink is piled high, there’s still food in the pots and pans, and it’s too much.

Instead, she slips into her bedroom.

Stella can hear the conversation clearly through the open window. She stands along the

wall, pressing against it. Addie is talking about work. Joyce is asking about the people she works

with, the food she serves. Her questions come in rapid-fire bursts of three. Finally, after the third

round, Thom says, “Jojo.” Softly but with warning.

No one in Stella’s family likes California. They don’t understand why she took a job out

here in the first place, why she stayed after that job ended, why she’s still here when there’s no

husband to tie her down. And now she’s lured their beloved Addison out here. Addie, the

brightest star this family has seen since—well, since Stella herself.

When Stella was around Addie’s age, she graduated from a prestigious law school and

won an internship with a top law firm. Meanwhile, Addie is waiting tables and not going to

school. And somehow, it’s Stella’s fault.

“Doesn’t it matter that I’m a good waitress?” Addie sounds exasperated, her voice

pitched high. “I understand that you don’t like what I’m doing, but doesn’t it matter at least that I

do it well?”

This is the moment that Elizabeth walks into Stella’s bedroom, looks around, and realizes

that Stella is standing by the window in the almost darkness. Stella raises a finger to her lips,

then reaches out to Elizabeth and pulls her in close, intending to pull her next to her against the

wall. But instead, she pulls Elizabeth against her. Suddenly they’re close enough to wrap their

arms around each other.

For a few seconds, neither one moves. Then Elizabeth tightens her hold and tucks herself

deeper into Stella’s arms. Stella turns her head a little, breathes in the scent of Elizabeth’s hair.

Elizabeth exhales onto the back of Stella’s neck.

“Of course it matters that you do well.” Joyce’s words are supportive, but she sounds

irritated.

“But it doesn’t matter if I’m happy,” Addie concludes.

Elizabeth is moving her hand up and down Stella’s back now, then she slips it under the

hem of her loose T-shirt, stroking her skin. Stella catches her breath at the unexpected contact in

a mix of panic and euphoria. Her hands are shaking, but she couldn’t move even if she wanted

to. Nothing could make her let go of Elizabeth in this moment, not an earthquake, a fire, or a

herd of stampeding rhinoceroses.

“I know you want to take care of your Aunt Stella, but she ain’t your responsibility,

darlin’,” Thom says.

Elizabeth nuzzles her nose behind Stella’s ear, and Stella reaches up and grabs a handful

of her hair, her nails grazing Elizabeth’s scalp. She makes a sound in response, almost like a

whimper.

“You don’t think I wanted to get out of Tennessee before Uncle Ron died?” Addie asks.

Elizabeth strokes Stella’s back, shifts her weight enough to gently press a thigh between

Stella’s. Now Elizabeth can brace her foot against the wall. Stella relaxes while Elizabeth presses

against her, holding her in place. The room is tilting slightly.

“Baby—”

“You don’t know anything about my life out here. And anyway, I’d rather be a waitress

here than anything at all back home.” Addie’s voice breaks. “I was so bored and lonely, and y’all

didn’t even notice!”

Elizabeth shifts her weight again, pulls her hands free, and slides them into Stella’s hair.

And Stella knows that Elizabeth is finally going to kiss her. Elizabeth licks her lips. Stella’s heart

is racing, but she’s not scared. She wants Elizabeth to kiss her slow and deep while her family

argues on the other side of the wall. She’s ready, ready to find out if the real thing is what she’s

imagined, or if they should part ways before they get in any deeper.

But instead of kissing her, Elizabeth just stares at her with a look of longing on her face.

They’re both breathing unevenly, trying not to make a noise. Then Elizabeth closes her eyes, her

head falls forward and rests against Stella’s shoulder. Stella holds it there, cradles it with both

hands.

When Elizabeth doesn’t move, Stella decides to break the spell. Surely, she only

imagined the longing on Elizabeth’s face. “We should go save her,” she whispers.

Elizabeth nods against her and then, after a moment, steps away. Stella ushers her back

into the hall.

* * *

Honey in the Marrow ©2022 by Emily Waters

Published by Ylva Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Ylva Publishing

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Emily Waters is a fiction writer. Besides writing, Emily is a full time librarian. She holds a BA in English Literature from Chapman University and a Masters of Library Science at Indiana University. Emily lives in Northern California and likes coffee, puttering around her backyard garden, and staying home.

Sign up here for Emily Waters ’s author newsletter.

LIVES INTERTWINED: LOVE ON SEQUIM BAY BY DOROTHY RICE BENNETT

Blurb:

Four lonely lesbians of differing ages move into a large home, owned by an older widow, on Washington's Sequim Bay. Each woman has different needs and issues, but they all want to save money and hopefully make friends. Once the renters--with their dogs and one grand piano---have settled in, they begin to experience more than they expected from this unique living environment.

Tell us about this scene:

Aggie, the mature homeowner, has developed a very stiff and sore neck. Wilma, her renter who is becoming a friend, understands the feeling and offers to help Aggie work off the pain. The house is quiet, and they go into Aggie's private bath where there is a jacuzzi tub.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I needed to find a way to bring two women, one in her sixties and one in her seventies, into an intimate relationship. I wanted the experience to feel real and believable, in that one is a lesbian and the other has been known as a heterosexual. I felt that a helping role for Wilma, a lover of massages, would be a good way to open a very private door--and that a warm bath would be a lovely setting to bring the two into intimate physical contact for the first time, allowing feelings to be aroused and secrets shared.

* * *

Excerpt:

…..Wilma dropped her clothes to the floor, and feeling a bit exposed—since Aggie was watching her every move—she slid into the far end of the tub.

Aggie gave her a broad grin.  “I knew you had a perfect body.”

Wilma flushed.  “Nobody’s perfect at sixty-two.”

Aggie cleared her throat.  “You are.  I’m quite happy to share my tub with you since you’re a goddess.  I’m just an old broad.”

Wilma didn’t respond, intending to keep this encounter focused on Aggie’s pain.  “Well, let’s check out that neck again,” she said.

Aggie slid around, until she was between Wilma’s legs.  Feeling a tingle go up and down her spine, Wilma swallowed and then massaged Aggie’s neck and both shoulders.  “How’s that?” she asked.

“Wonderful.  I love it.”

“Hmmm.  You look like you’re cold, even though the water’s quite warm.  Your back’s shivering.”

“That’s a tickle.  You’re tickling me.”

Wilma’s face turned beet red.  “Okay.”  She bit her lip.  “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I like to be tickled.  Haven’t had that for a long, long time.”

Wilma felt a bit confused.  Was there something about Aggie that she didn’t understand?

“Turn around and look at me,” Wilma instructed firmly.

“Why?”  Aggie seemed puzzled.

“We need to talk.”

“Oh.”

Aggie scooted around, until her back was against the wall of the tub.  She had a childlike look on her face, like being caught in something she shouldn’t be doing.

“What’s going on here?”

Aggie looked embarrassed now that she’d been confronted.  “Well, I’m not sure what to say.” She sighed and put her face in her hands for a moment.  “It’s a bit embarrassing, but since all of you moved into the house, I’ve been having these dreams and memories.  Kind of sensual.  You see, I’ve never told anyone this.  When I was about fourteen, I had a special friend.”

“As in a girl?”

“Yes, a girl.  We were in school together, and sometimes we hung out at each other’s houses.  We were at that age where we were growing boobs and adjusting to having periods, and we were curious.  Since no one was answering our questions, because sex wasn’t talked about, we experimented.”

Wilma nodded, beginning to get the picture.

“Charlene came over to our house and spent the night one time when her parents had to go away for the weekend.  We climbed into my big double bed.  We told stories and then we began to touch each other.  It was exciting—for both of us.  We had an idea that this was wrong, and we didn’t tell anyone, but we tried to spend the night together as often as possible, one house or the other.  In the beginning, we just touched each other, feeling the sensations that ran up and down our bodies.  Then we began kissing and soon it was deep kissing.  Then we started taking off our nightclothes in the dark and stroking and feeling lower.  The more we did it, the more exciting it became.  I felt that I loved Charlene and she seemed to feel the same.  We couldn’t get enough, and soon we began having climaxes.”

“Were you as scared of being caught as much as excited?” Wilma questioned.

“Yes.  Eventually, we were caught, and Charlene moved away.  I never saw her again.  I was watched and I had a hard time even getting away with pleasuring myself now and then.  By the time I was seventeen, my parents were proposing boyfriends for me.  Without saying a direct word, they made sure I knew what was expected.  At eighteen, I was married, and that became my life.  A decent life, even if I wasn’t fulfilled.”

“And you’ve never been with a woman again?”

“Oh, no.  No way.  I just buried all of that, until Brit came to the door and wanted to rent the house to a group of lesbians.  I went through hell for a couple of days trying to decide whether I should let you all in or not.  Then when I needed to stay for a while, I worried about what would happen to me, being around all of you.  Finally, I decided that I couldn’t control the outcome.  I had to let happen whatever was going to happen.”

Aggie thought a moment and then looked directly at Wilma. “I love having all of you here.  It’s put life back into my world.  I enjoy seeing young women who can openly be lesbians and talk about it.  I’m too old to have any of that for myself, yet I like supporting those who can.  I guess it’s another way to be a nurturer.”

Wilma rose to her knees, soap and water dripping down.  Regardless of the cost to her, she couldn’t let Aggie feel ashamed of having confessed her secret.  “Come here, I want to hug you.”

Aggie raised an eyebrow and flushed beet red as she worked herself up the side of the tub and onto her feet.  Then the two women put their arms around each other and held on tight.  “I don’t know what’s possible for you now,” Wilma admitted.  “But I thank you for the risk you’ve taken by letting us in your home, and by sharing with me this darkest secret of yours.  I’ll never say a word.  It’s your secret to share when and if you wish.  Meanwhile, just know I have great respect for you.  You’re a beautiful woman.” 

Aggie leaned into Wilma’s chest and cried, deeply and soulfully, and Wilma just held on to her.

* * *

Lives Intertwined: Love on Sequim Bay ©2020 by Dorothy Rice Bennett

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* * *

About the Author:

Dorothy Rice Bennett began writing stories in grade school. Having earned four college degrees, she pursued two careers: as a family therapist and a journalist. Once married and mother of an adopted daughter, she now lives with her partner and toy poodle on Washington's Olympic Peninsula. She has published six sapphic novels.

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WHITEWATER AWAKENING BY RITA POTTER

Blurb:

Can two lost people find themselves, and possibly each other, halfway around the world?

After a tragic accident, Quinn Coolidge leaves everything behind, hoping to find solace in a secluded life in the Ozarks. Her solitude is disrupted when her best friend, unexpectedly, shows up with a proposition she may not be able to resist.

Faced with a series of failed relationships, Aspen Kennedy is left wondering why she can’t find true love. With each new partner, she immerses herself in their interests, hoping to find the connection she’s been missing. That should make her the perfect girlfriend, shouldn’t it?

Come along with Quinn and Aspen as they travel to Africa, to take on one of the most grueling whitewater rafting courses in the world. With the amazing Victoria Falls as their backdrop, the pair will have to look deep inside to discover what holds them back. Will the churning waters of the Zambezi River defeat them, or will it lead them to a whitewater awakening?

Tell us about this scene:

After accidentally falling into the swimming pool, Aspen Kennedy went inside to get out of her wet clothes. Quinn Coolidge is sitting near the pool awaiting her return.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene from Whitewater Awakening represents who I am as an author. While my books are eclectic, common elements run through much of my work.

Banter and dialogue are two of my strengths, and this scene has plenty of both. If you’re looking for sizzling sexual tension right from the start, I’m not the author for you. I write the slowest of slow burns. The chemistry between my characters builds slowly, and it normally starts with the type of interaction depicted in this scene. For me, connection and emotion are the key to any relationship.

My writing reflects my belief that in some way we are all damaged and must conquer our demons to live a fulfilling life. This belief and my background in social work is what inspires me to write layered characters. While this abridged scene doesn’t show the true depth of Quinn and Aspen, the astute reader will pick up hints that there is more under the surface.

Finally, I love research, so I tend to set my stories in unusual settings. This novel takes place during a whitewater rafting trip in Zambezi, Africa, and the scene takes place near the mist of Victoria Falls.

* * *

Excerpt:

The ripples danced across the surface as Quinn moved her feet back and forth in the water. When the patio door opened, it startled her.

Aspen’s short robe fell just below mid-thigh. Heat rose in Quinn’s cheeks. Surely, Aspen didn’t put the robe on without anything underneath. Quinn averted her gaze and began to stand.

“Don’t get up on my account,” Aspen said. 

Quinn lowered herself and let her feet dangle back into the pool. Aspen’s bright red toenails perched on the ledge beside Quinn. “Do you really think you should get that close to the water?”

“Very funny.” Aspen put her hand on Quinn’s shoulder and dropped to the ground next to her. 

Quinn glanced at Aspen out of the corner of her eye. Aspen’s hair, still wet, appeared several shades darker. “Do you mind telling me why you decided to jump into the pool with all your clothes on?”

Aspen nudged Quinn with an elbow. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I heard you whistling, and it freaked me out. I lost my balance when I tried to sneak away, and I fell in.”

Quinn chuckled. “I’m surprised you didn’t wake someone with the racket you made.”

Aspen leaned away from Quinn and put her hand on her hip. “Really? That’s the first thing that comes to mind after my traumatic experience?”

Quinn held her hands in the air. “Okay. My bad. Are you okay?”

“That’s much better. The only thing hurt is my pride.” 

Quinn heard the smile in Aspen’s voice but didn’t see it. Sitting so close, Quinn felt uncomfortable facing Aspen, so she kept her gaze on the rippling water. “That’s good. Well, not the part about your pride. I mean, it’s good that you’re not hurt or anything.”

“I should ask you why you were creeping around in the middle of the night.”

“Now who lacks social graces?” Quinn smiled. “I couldn’t sleep, and I wasn’t creeping around. I happened to be walking on the path.”

“What if I was skinny dipping?”

The thought of Aspen naked in the pool flashed across Quinn’s mind. Stop! “I suppose if you screamed like you did, I would have gotten an eyeful.”

“I probably would have when I saw someone lurking in the shadows.” 

“Let me get this straight. I went from creeping to lurking? Can you explain the difference?”

“Creeping is, well, creepy. And lurking is more lurky.”

Quinn laughed. “I’m certainly glad you cleared that up.”

Aspen chuckled. “Must be something about the mist from the falls.”

“Ah, the magic mist of Victoria Falls casts a spell over the unsuspecting tourists. I sense a movie in there somewhere.”

“Drama or romantic comedy?” Aspen asked.

Romantic comedy? Quinn’s pulse quickened. She wasn’t going to touch that one. “Or maybe horror. Don’t mist and horror go together?”

“Now you’re stereotyping.”

Quinn nodded. “You’re right. It can be whatever kind of movie you want.”

“I know.” Aspen slapped her foot into the pool, causing water to spray the front of their shirts. “Uh, sorry. I got excited. I didn’t mean to get you all wet.”

Quinn tried not to smirk. 

“Oh, my god,” Aspen said. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“What way?” Quinn feigned innocence but feared the twinkle in her eyes gave her away.

“Nice try.” Aspen slapped Quinn’s leg. “Buddy movie.”

“Huh?”

“You said I could pick the movie genre. This trip will be my buddy movie, and I’ve decided you’re going to be my buddy, Quinn Coolidge.”

Warmth filled Quinn’s chest. “Do I get a say in it?”

“Nope.” Aspen shook her head. “It’s my movie, so I choose.”

“You seem pretty good at this forthright stuff. I think I’m being played. You’re like one of those pool hustlers or grifters.”

Aspen laughed. “Literally. I threw myself in the pool just to hustle you.”

“Damn, and I fell for it.”

“Character arc. Makes for a better movie when one of the characters is hopelessly clueless.”

“Let’s see. So far, you’ve called me creepy, lurky, hopeless, and clueless.” Quinn ticked the list off on her fingers. “Not a good start to a buddy flick.”

“But you’re sweet, so there’s something to build on.”

Quinn hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Tell me more about this problem with being forthright. You seem to be doing a bang-up job of it.”

“Do you think we can find a different word for forthright? It makes us sound like eighteenth century gentlemen.”

“I didn’t know it was an eighteenth-century thing.”

“Hell, I don’t know if it is. I just made it up.”

“Very forthright to admit that.” Quinn couldn’t resist using the word again.

“Stop!” Aspen laughed. “Come on, give me some other options.”

Quinn looked to the sky. “Um, honest, open, direct, frank.”

“No, not frank. That sounds like gangster talk.”

“Since when do gangsters say frank?”

“Frank. Frank Sinatra.”

Quinn narrowed her eyes. “Frank Sinatra wasn’t a gangster just because he was Italian.”

“No, seriously. I read once that a lot of mafia guys hung around with him in Vegas.”

“Fine,” Quinn said, shaking her head. “We’ll take frank off the list.”

“What about straightforward?”

“Do you really want to be straight? How about candid?”

Aspen shook her head. “Makes me think of Candid Camera.”

“Frank Sinatra and now Candid Camera. Are you sure you weren’t born in the fifties?”

“What can I say? My parents were fanatic about all things from the fifties.”

“Old soul. Plainspoken?”

“Now who’s being insulting? Old and plain?” Aspen teased. “I prefer outspoken.”

“Blunt.” Quinn held back a grin.

“No nonsense. Pointblank.”

“Pointblank sounds like you might shoot me. Tactless.”

“You keep coming up with the negative ones.” Aspen scowled. “I think I like direct.”

“Ugh, seriously?” Quinn planted her palm against her forehead. “That was one of the first choices. We could have avoided this whole ugly fiasco.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

* * *

Whitewater Awakening ©2022 by Rita Potter

Published by Sapphire Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Sapphire Books

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* * *

About the Author:

Rita finds her inspiration from the quote, “The writer’s job is to get their main character up a tree, and then throw rocks at them.” She draws heavily on her background in social work to ensure her characters struggles are authentic, while still infusing her stories with hope.

Sign up here for Rita Potter ’s author newsletter.

CAFE A’MOOR BY ELLE ARMSTRONG

Blurb:

There’s an instant connection when Max and Lauren’s eyes meet across a crowded café. But their attempts to get to know each other, are constantly thwarted by either Max’s mysterious alarm or Lauren’s frenemies, who Max nicknames the three witches.

As the witches stir up a storm, Lauren tries desperately to escape the spell binding her to them. Meanwhile Max is left wondering if her and Lauren are meant to be, or destined to be fated lovers.

A visit from an ex, kickstarts a chain reaction, leading to drama on the moors, that will have far reaching repercussions. Will Max and Lauren get to be each other’s amours, or will outside sources combine with the witches, to spoil everything?

Tell us about this scene:

Lauren has been on a day trip with the terrible trio. Cate is driving them back over the moors.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I put a lot of effort into this scene to make it as realistic as possible. In my mind I placed myself in Lauren’s seat then tried to imagine everything she would see, hear and feel. It’s one of the rare times I did not use humour and relied instead on using tense, fraught, frightening words to relay what was happening. I’m hoping what comes across is the fear and also the weirdness as her injuries affect Lauren’s thought process and reactions. Whilst the book is low angst, I’m hoping that I still built a terrifying, page turning chapter. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Excerpt:

Lauren knew the road well, and even though she couldn’t see, she was reasonably confident that Fratters Bend was coming up shortly. Fratters Bend was a sharp bend in the road, and it was a notorious blackspot for accidents. The combination of fog, alcohol, and Cate still not going slowly enough meant she wasn’t going to make the corner when they got to it.

Lauren froze as fear overcame her, and her blood turned to ice. She saw the familiar tell-tale signs at the side of the road: broken pieces of glass, a part of a bumper, and an abandoned wing mirror. They’d arrived.

“Cate, watch out; there’s a corner here!” Lauren screamed at her friend as she found her voice.

Cate slammed on her brakes as the black and white chevrons on the barrier denoting the corner leapt out in front of them, but her reactions were nowhere near quick enough. Lauren watched in horror as the car collided into the metal barrier. Loud hissing sounds made her jump, and airbags popped out in front of Leah and Cate, making them both scream hysterically and clutch their faces.

Everything after that happened in slow motion. The barrier scraped down the right side of the car, causing a terrible screeching sound to vibrate in and around them. Lauren, who was watching out of Kirstie’s window, was fairly sure she saw sparks flying too. Finally, the barrier ended, and Lauren breathed out a sigh of relief. Until her brain caught up with what was happening. Sure enough, with no barrier to stop them, the Mini shot off the road.

It felt like the Mini was flying. There was no noise, no rattling or shaking of the car. Weird!

 Lauren felt blood rush into her head as for a second, they turned upside down. The car threw them about like ragdolls before righting itself and its occupants. Lauren’s cries joined the cacophony of her friend’s screams, and all Lauren could think was how far from the road they were travelling. How they would never be found in the thick fog.

A loud bang was accompanied by the glass in the window smashing right next to Lauren’s face. Thousands of jagged shards flew out, stabbing all over.

More terrible sounds filled the car, a mixture of ear-splitting crunches, deafening clangs, and booming thuds. Lauren’s body was being jerked and jolted about within the confines of her seatbelt. She gritted her teeth to prevent them from either banging together or from biting her tongue.

Lauren could only assume they’d landed back on the ground. But it still felt like they were moving. How were they still moving? Cate, brake. Brake! Put your foot on the bloody brake for fucks sake! Oh God, oh God, I’m going to die!

Lauren decided that the car was definitely back on terra firma even though all she could see was fog out of the broken window. Her brain seemed to be rolling around in her head, leaving her thoughts jumbled and unable to fully process what was going on. Out of nowhere, the car flipped over again, to the right. Logic said it should then land on its side, but there was no sound as the car threw them all to the driver’s side. It was like being on a waltzer at a fun fair.

Lauren’s seatbelt stopped her from falling on top of Kirstie, but it was tight and digging into her skin.  Before she could do anything to loosen its grip on her, they were abruptly flung upside down, for a split second.

A thunderous crunching and banging noise reverberated through the car as the ground smashed into Lauren’s side of the car. Or was it the other way round? Only the sound of the grinding and pounding could be heard as the stereo suddenly cut out.

Pain shot up Lauren’s arm as she vaguely thought they might be back upright once more. It was like being on a spin cycle in the washing machine, and Lauren was trying desperately not to be sick. Pain flared up her arm again, but it didn’t stop and ran through the rest of her body like a shock wave.

Lauren didn’t think she could take much more. Her body felt like it had been hit with a thousand baseball bats. She was sure she wouldn’t survive. Every part of her body hurt. I need to get out! I need to get out now!

Abruptly, the car stopped. Lauren’s head slammed back and somehow connected with what felt like the roof of the car? Eh? Why is the roof there and not above me? Lauren braced herself for more as her head throbbed painfully. She wasn’t at all convinced this was it, expecting to be turned and thrown about again at any moment.

An eerie quiet that felt far louder than any of the other noises descended on the Mini for what felt like ages. It was likely only a couple of seconds, and then her friends screams pierced the air, shattering the silence. Lauren could only hear two of them, though. Why wasn’t Leah screaming with them? She’d been singing along before the crash. She’s dead, she’s not screaming, oh bloody hell, I’m going to die too!

Inhaling a breath that didn’t seem to want to go down into her lungs, the smell of petrol assaulted Lauren’s nostrils. It was a sharp contrast to the peaty aroma of the moors that also seeped in through the smashed windows. Lauren tried to take another deep breath. Pain shot through her body. Where am I? I can smell petrol. Are we in the car garage getting repairs as I think we bumped into something earlier? I hurt so much.

The sound of metal clanking slowly and a strange hissing confirmed her theory. They were the last sounds Lauren heard before everything went completely black.

* * *

Cafe A’Moor ©2021 by Elle Armstrong

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Elle is from the north of the UK, meaning she automatically has an accent no one can understand. Deaf as a post and about as mobile as one, Elle fell into writing to pass the boredom of daytime TV.

SCRIPTED LOVE BY HELENA HARTE

Blurb:

Ambitious author Layla Adams can't believe her luck when Hollywood comes calling. She moves to LA and jumps in with both feet to turn her books into movies. It gets even better when her new director is dapper butch, Rix Reardon. Everything is looking damn near perfect. For now, anyway.

Rix Reardon splits her time between running her own production company and fundraising for the local LGBTQ Center. Life is great, but she yearns for a soul mate and the patter of tiny feet. When she starts filming with her favorite writer and they hit it off, Rix begins to wonder if Layla could be her future.

But Layla receives an offer of a lifetime that Rix sees as a betrayal. Then there's the bombshell that Layla doesn’t believe in happy ever after, and Rix’s dream life begins to slip away.

Will Layla and Rix find their way to love, or is happy ever after not in the script?

Tell us about this scene:

It's the aftermath of our butch director Rix finally laying herself open to Layla. Rix has been evasive about her full name, and this is the fun discovery scene.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love the relationship between these two, and how the masc character is looking for the one but the romance writer doesn't believe in happy ever afters. I enjoyed exploring the butch sensibility of allowing themselves to be touched intimately only after really getting to know the person and the depth of vulnerability that accompanies that. Then we go into a humorous scene about the origins of Rix's name, and it was a lot of fun to write. The reason behind Rix's name was one of the first things I came up with when I started to write this book, and it still makes me giggle to have given a butch character such a non-traditional butch name.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Fuck, that’s perfect.”

Layla laughed softly. “Mm, my handsome butch likes it hard.” 

She increased her pace and added a second finger. She ran her tongue along Rix’s collarbone and bit into her neck as she pushed in harder and faster. Rix curled her fingers around Layla’s hair and pulled her up. Their mouths smashed together in a collision of craving; Rix, starved of Layla’s taste, held her there though her ability to kiss was suddenly lost as every ounce of awareness focused on the feeling building between her legs. There was nothing else, and everything seemed to slow as her crescendo came, and she screamed her release into Layla’s mouth as the waves of pleasure pulled her under into a blissful abyss.

After Layla held her for a while in complete silence, Rix took a deep breath. She wondered if she could ever get used to this part, the awkwardness that followed allowing herself to be one hundred percent vulnerable and hoping that she’d be accepted for all that she was. If it could ever happen, Rix felt sure it would be with Layla. “I needed that.” Simple words, but she hoped that Layla would grasp the subtext and multiple meanings. She needed to let go and allow Layla to touch her, and to show how much she’d come to need Layla, emotionally as well as sexually. This was Rix’s final barrier to access all areas of her heart and soul. To be who she was, to be butch, and to give complete control of her body over to Layla was to be fragile in a way she wasn’t comfortable with and could only allow with someone she trusted unconditionally.

Layla zipped Rix’s jeans, buckled her belt, and tucked the front of her shirt in. “Happy to oblige. Thank you for letting me. Now that you’ve given your body to me, don’t you think you should tell me your real name?”

Rix sighed. She would’ve legally changed her name if she didn’t know that would break her mom’s heart. “I can’t just tell you my real name. There’s a whole story behind it that you have to understand before I can do the big reveal.”

Layla fixed her clothes, hitched herself back onto the workbench, and swung her legs from side to side. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Rix opened Layla’s legs, situated herself between them, and put her hands on Layla’s waist. “When my mom was carrying me, I started to kick a lot after four months, particularly at night, and that kept her awake. Dad was working hard and needed his sleep, so she’d go downstairs and sit on the sofa while drinking a glass of milk. To distract herself, she started reading the children’s books she’d gotten from the thrift store—”

“Are you telling me that your mom and dad called you the Lorax? You dropped the lo and changed a vowel? That’s clever.”

Rix clasped her hand over Layla’s mouth. “Shush. If you interrupt again, I won’t tell you now, and I’ll never tell you. Deal?”

Layla rolled her eyes but nodded, and Rix removed her hand.

“Deal. But if I’m right, I get to choose any one of these carvings to take home with me.”

“They’re safe, but I might let you take one home just because I love you.” Rix kissed her gently and pulled back. “Anyway, Mom tried all these stories, Roald Dahl, Kipling, Dr Suess, but it didn’t change anything. I was still kicking. Then she tried Peter Rabbit.”

Layla raised her hand and bounced on the bench. “Can I guess now?”

Rix laughed gently. “Sure.”

“Is your real name Mrs Tiggy Winkle or Hunca Munca?”

Rix pulled Layla closer, and she wrapped her legs around Rix’s waist. “That’s amazing. How’d you guess it was one of those from all the characters in that series of books?”

Layla tapped her finger to her forehead. “Intuition, baby. Seriously though, you were named after Beatrix Potter?”

“Yep. Mom read those books, and I stopped kicking. It worked every time, she tells me—and anyone else who’ll listen. Once I got out into the world, I started reading anything and everything, and I started with the books that had calmed me even before I was born. It’s why I’ve got such a lavish library. I love the written word.”

“Do you have the full set of her books?”

“Of course, how could I not? But it took a while to collect the whole set of first editions.” And a lot of money, but every time Rix walked into her library, seeing that full collection on her shelves still made her smile.

“I bet your mom’s glad you didn’t change your name. Does it bother her that you hide it like you do?”

Rix shook her head. “She understands that the full version of my name doesn’t fit with who I am, but she’s happy that I settled on Rix because it’s just shortened.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“I love you. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” She ran her fingers through Layla’s hair, enjoying its silky caress between her fingers. “But if you tell anyone, I’ll have to cut out your tongue.”

Layla arched her eyebrow and pouted. “Hold fire on that proposed punishment until you’ve found out what I can do with my tongue.”

* * *

Scripted Love ©2021 by Helena Harte

Published by Butterworth Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

HELENA HARTE is an incurable romantic with a marshmallow heart, and her bag is women loving women romance. Her favourite pastime is finding love and romance in the strangest of places.

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NOT IN THE SCRIPT BY K.E. MORRISON

Blurb:

Charlie Evans leads an ordinary life. Boring in fact, by many people's standards. So, when she unexpectedly finds herself tutoring a student on set at Pinewood Studios, the last thing she imagines is that the lead actress is none other than global superstar, Robyn White. The same Robyn White her three closest friends have lusted after since they first met back at university a decade-and-a-half ago.

Robyn White might be renowned for her enormous smile on the red carpet and her happy-go-lucky attitude, however it’s all a well-constructed front. Behind the façade is a woman who struggles to fit in, not least because she has a secret, one which on-set tutor Charlie Evans threatens to expose.

With tensions rising all around them, will Charlie and Robyn's attraction reach blockbuster heights or be discarded on the cutting room floor?

Tell us about this scene:

Hollywood star and closeted lesbian, Robyn is hosting a party for the crew of her latest movie, being filmed at Pinewood Studios. Out-and-proud teacher Charlie, acting as the on-set tutor for one of her students, has had several run-ins with Robyn, which haven't ended well. After a heartfelt apology and some longing stares over dinner, Charlie needs to get her libido under control before she makes a fool of herself in front of the straight star. Robyn follows her inside and proves she's not as straight as everyone thinks...

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I’ve chosen this as my favourite scene because it was one oof those scenes that wrote itself. I could see Robyn and Charlie so clearly in my head that all I needed to do was jot down the words to describe what they showed me.

I love the push-and-pull between them, the way the power switches from one to the other, and how easily and comfortably they both let that happen. I needed to have the scene written from Robyn’s perspective so she could later look back and see this as the moment she began her journey out of the closet. For someone who was so usually in control of her emotions and actions, it was important for her to experience something which blew apart her rigid boundaries and made her see what was waiting if only she could be brave enough to take it.

As their first kiss, it was always a pivotal moment in their burgeoning relationship, but when I first imagined it, it was a chaste occurrence, over quickly and without much lasting impact. Robyn and Charlie, however had other ideas! They turned it into something that would leave them both ragged, simultaneously eager for more and desperately wishing it had never happened.

* * *

Excerpt:

I want her. The thought was back, had never really gone anywhere. But this time, Charlie’s eyes didn’t mimic her own. No, Charlie’s were sad, resigned, and that affected Robyn to her core. She wanted to go to her and find out the cause. A moment ago, she’d have sworn that Charlie was just as lost in a lust-filled haze as she was. What had happened to cause the change? She needed to know.

Charlie turned to Lizzie next to her and muttered something, motioning towards the house, then rose, turned her back on the group and headed across the patio. Without giving herself a moment to think, Robyn was on her feet and following, throwing an excuse about dessert when she caught Kate’s quizzical look. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she wouldn’t have been at all surprised if her legs had given way beneath her. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to say to Charlie when she caught up to her, she just knew she needed to follow.

As she stepped inside the kitchen, she saw Charlie heading through it, just about to step out into the hallway.

“Charlie,” she called, wincing at how breathless she sounded.

Charlie stopped walking and turned slowly, surprise etched on her face. She clearly hadn’t expected Robyn to follow her.

“Robyn. Is everything okay?” Charlie asked, from where she stood in the doorway.

Robyn didn’t reply; she couldn’t. She reduced her pace, walking slowly until she was standing in front of Charlie. Their eyes were locked to each other and this close, Robyn could see a ring of silver around Charlie’s pupils before the blue took over. Robyn had no idea how long they stood like that, chests heaving, eyes never wavering. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours. Slowly, Robyn took another step closer and then another. There could be absolutely no doubting what was happening between them now. This was much too close to be considered purely platonic. Another moment of indeterminate length passed; a moment in which they both seemed to be trying to read the other and choose a course of action.

And then Robyn had absolutely no idea who moved first, but all of a sudden she had her arms wrapped around Charlie, Charlie’s arms around her as they desperately tried to pull each other closer. Their lips met, slightly frantically, as a frenzied kiss took over them both. The moment their lips touched, Robyn knew she had lost control of her body as it pressed Charlie’s up against the nearest wall, her hands pinning Charlie’s hips in place. A small part of her brain was screaming at her to slow the kiss down, to savour it, to enjoy the languorous movement, but that part was drowned out by the primal part of her that wanted to get as much as she could as quickly as she could.

She felt Charlie’s hands grip her ass, pulling her even closer, which Robyn hadn’t actually believed possible. She could feel the wonderful sensation of Charlie’s breasts, pressing into her own. She traced one hand up Charlie’s side, letting her fingers follow the outline of her curves, caress her shoulder, and slip to the nape of Charlie’s neck, urging their mouths further together. Robyn had no idea who released the soft moan, but it thrummed through her, and all she knew was that she wanted to hear it again.

Another moan, this time definitely her own; Charlie’s hands had slipped beneath her t-shirt and were sliding up the length of Robyn’s back, applying the perfect pressure. Before it had time to register fully, Charlie had flipped their positions and Robyn, not usually one to relinquish control, enjoyed the feeling of Charlie dictating. She ran her hands over Charlie’s shoulders and down her back, until they came to settle on her hips. Looping her fingers through the belt hoops on Charlie’s jeans, she tugged her closer, desperate to feel more. She continued to explore with her tongue, completely overwhelmed by the sensation of Charlie’s duelling with her own.

Gods, she was magnificent, this woman in her arms. Robyn didn’t have to search her memory banks for the last time she had felt like this; she hadn’t. Not ever. Not once in her thirty-seven years had she experienced something so all consuming, so exhilarating, so reckless. If she was being completely honest with herself, Robyn had never understood what all the fuss was about. And yet, here she was, feeling more turned on from one kiss than the handful of times she had actually let her guard down enough to have had the few kisses she’d experienced before this one. At first, she had thought it was because she had kissed a couple of guys before she’d fully accepted she was gay, then, after the fireworks still hadn’t erupted when she’d finally kissed a woman, she’d blamed herself for being uptight. Another two women down the line and Robyn had finally accepted she just wasn’t a sexual being. Sure, it had been fairly enjoyable kissing those other women, but nothing like the way the people around her discussed their experiences, and certainly nothing at all like what she’d read in her secret guilty pleasure: lesbian romance books. In those, writers described women losing their minds and practically having out-of-body experience.  Robyn wouldn’t have used an adjective any more gushing than ‘nice’ to describe her own trysts, and that was a word she tried to avoid at all costs given how banal it was.

This right now, this was a million miles away from nice. It had her all hot and bothered and wondering whether it was at all possible to climb inside Charlie’s skin and never leave. No matter how hard she tugged at her hips, Robyn just couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t cleave to Charlie in the way her body demanded. 

* * *

Not in the Script ©2021 by K.E. Morrison

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

K.E. Morrison lives on the North East coast of England with her wife and dogs. She spends more time than she should reading or listening to lesfic. Her debut novel Not in the Script hit the number one spot on the Amazon lesbian romance list.

ON MY WAY THERE BY JAYCIE MORRISON

Blurb:

Maxine Terrell lurches into adulthood madly in love with a woman and her child. Unfortunately, Daphne Polk is someone else’s wife, and her daughter, Lena, is someone else’s child. Daphne’s been there for her ever since Max and her father weathered a terrible tragedy, one that’s still whispered about in their small Texas town. But after years of hope and heartbreak, and too many lies to count, Max begins to wonder if their “friends with benefits” arrangement is enough.

Her father’s death leaves Max is emotionally adrift. Even her unexpectedly sizable inheritance doesn’t diminish her restlessness, so she signs up for truck driving school, ready to take to the road while she figures out the rest of her life. While in Lubbock, she meets Trillian—“Thrill”—and manages to screw things up from the start. After another chance encounter and a sweet kiss she can’t forget, Max begins to rethink not only what, but who she really wants.

As Max traverses the open road, her journey of impossible love, loss, and determination mirrors her voyage of self-discovery. But as she begins to look to the future, she must come to terms with her past.

Tell us about this scene:

This is the opening scene of the book; however, there will be flashbacks that explain how the characters' relationship came to be before the story moves forward. Other adventures await as well.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I have favorite characters from each of my novels, and because each book is different, I could tell you something from each plot that I’m particularly proud of. I’m choosing this as my favorite scene partly because it’s from the book I’m just finishing up now. (Love the one you’re with, right?) I also like it because it sets the tone for what is to come (no pun intended), especially in terms of how the characters relate to each other, but it also gives a hint of how they see themselves in the world around them. And there’s humor and sex…what could be better? I hope you won’t hold the setting against me. This is a personal journey romance and my own personal romance story began in Texas, so it works for me. Max’s journey will include figuring out what role Daphne will have in her life, coming to terms with her past, and deciding what she truly wants and who she has to be to get it.

* * *

Excerpt:

After she came, I crawled up her body and laid my head on her chest. Normally, breasts were something I genuinely enjoyed about a woman, but due to the contribution of modern plastic surgery, Daphne’s were quite a bit firmer than the ones God had originally given her. Still, I was drifting off, ignoring the risk of a crick in my neck, when she gave me a nudge. “I gotta get going, Max.”

While she found her panties, I sat up, rolling my head around. A little pop eased the stiffness along my left shoulder. Yep, just in time. “Okay, baby,” I said. “Let me walk you back.” 

As we strolled through the fall Texas evening toward the truck stop and diner that doubled as a sports bar, I asked, “So how’s Lena?”

Daphne stopped walking. “I know you’re only asking ‘cause you care about me, Max.” For once, her sarcasm didn’t drip off every single syllable; it only lightly coated that last pronoun. Daphne’s eight-year-old daughter was a sweet little tomboy, and it was a matter of great interest to me as to whether the baby butch duckling was going to someday swan on us or if this “phase” was something her momma was gonna have to take to Jesus. Whatever the case, it was my personal goal to always be there for Lena, but especially should she ever toy with the idea of coming out. Because how could anyone actually choose the straight and narrow if they didn’t know anything about the big ol’ crooked? Quick as a snake, Daphne grabbed my earlobe and pulled me closer. “Tell me you’re not making some depraved plans for my daughter’s future.” She squeezed hard enough to maintain my full attention. “Tell me your decadence hasn’t sunk that low.”

“Ow! Goddamn it, Daphne.” She’d always been able to read me, and now I wouldn’t get much wiggle room, either literally or figuratively. “It’s not like that. You know I care for Lena like she was my own.”

I was glad for the semi-darkness as she gave me a long look. “All right,” she said, finally letting go. “I’m sorry.” I rubbed my earlobe and scowled my best offended look at her. She gave the injured area a peck and then a quick lick, something she knew I liked. Fact was, she knew everything I liked. “It’s just that I have enough to worry about without throwing you in the mix.”

There was something unaffected in her tone that made me take a second look. Daphne was almost four years older than me, but we’d been acquainted for as long as I could remember. Still, my next question came pretty much out of nowhere. “Aren’t you happy, Daphne?”

“Happy?” She seemed to ponder the concept for a second before snapping back to reality. “Hell no, I’m not happy. And neither is anyone else. The whole country is pissed, because we’re promised life, liberty, and happiness, and we feel like we’re getting shorted on one-third of the deal.”

I didn’t bother to point out the subtle distinction regarding the pursuit of happiness, because she knew. At one time, Daphne had been on track to be her class valedictorian, but that was before her folks had sent her off to church camp for one whole summer, where she’d learned to drink, smoke, cuss, and dress like a hooker so she’d be able to get a man and procreate as the good Lord intended. She turned a shrewd eye on me. “Are you happy, Max?”

I shrugged. “Sure. I guess so.”

She sniffed dismissively. “Why did I ask? You don’t have the slightest idea what happiness is.” Her gaze ran slowly up and down my body. “All you know about is pleasure. And that’s two different things.”

“You sure?” I grinned, because this was getting much too deep.

We were within earshot of the hollering but in the shadows between the illumination cast by the streetlights and the assorted neon signs of Etta’s Place when cheers went up from the bar. “We’re going to overtime.” “Fuck, yeah!” “Bring me another beer, will you, sweetheart?”

“Overtime, huh?” Daphne said, and pulled me against the side of the building. She had my jeans unbuttoned in about five seconds and had her hand inside my boxers in less time than that. “Then we better hurry. Won’t the first score win?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that wasn’t exactly the rule. Or to interfere with her expertise.

* * *

On My Way There ©2023 by Jaycie Morrison

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Jaycie Morrison traded her big city hometown of Dallas, Texas, for the cool beauty of a small Colorado mountain town, and hasn’t regretted a moment of it. When not writing or reading, Jaycie may be exploring the forest, experimenting with gluten free cooking, or pretending to be a rock star.

KEEP IT IN THE FAMILY BY JESS NEWTON

Blurb:

Remember the time you almost kissed your husband’s aunt? Lisa does.

Lisa has it all. A hard-working husband, two wonderful children, a comfortable home. That is, until she meets smart, sexy journalist Cath at a party. The problem? Cath is her husband’s aunt.

As Lisa and Cath grow closer and lives become entangled, Lisa needs to work out if this is worth breaking the pattern for - or risk messing up her perfect life for nothing.

Tell us about this scene:

In this scene the main character Lisa is at an anniversary party for her in-laws, chatting to her sister-in-law Charlie about her children, when her soon-to-be love interest Cath arrives.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I had so much fun writing this scene as I adore the character of Cath and I really wanted to introduce her in a way that immediately piqued the reader's interest. Keep It In The Family actually started life as a short story called The Great Escape, where the characters met at a much younger age, so I transferred some of my favourite parts of Cath's introduction from that and expanded it from there.

* * *

Excerpt:

Elaine and Peter had opted not to go for a sit-down dinner, choosing instead a more informal dance party with snacks and drinks. The large room they had booked had a proper, staffed bar, a long buffet table, and several smaller tables for weary party-goers to rest at. Balloons floated everywhere, and a DJ at the opposite end of the room to the bar tested her sound system with loud pop music. 

“Did they choose their own outfits?” Charlie asked me, looking at my children. They appeared to be taking their job very seriously, and I could see Ella frowning as she politely disagreed with Edie’s party popper placement. 

“Yes, why?” I asked, hiding my smile. 

I knew perfectly well why Charlie was asking; while Edie wore a red velvet dress with a poofy skirt and a black satin sash, Ella was very smartly attired in a miniature dinner jacket. I thought they both looked lovely, and Ella’s suit went very well with her fashionably short hair. As I watched, she swept her long fringe out of her eyes and nodded, helping Edie to spread some sequins across the table. 

“What did Mum say?” Charlie asked, not answering my question. 

My smile widened. “She didn’t say anything, actually. She looked like she might do for a moment, but then she just said they looked lovely.”

I had never seen Elaine speechless before, but the seconds before she swallowed and smiled at the girls had been highly entertaining. They had both beamed proudly at her praise, and the moment passed without incident. 

“I’m impressed. I told Mum I didn’t want to wear a skirt to a party once.”

I looked at Charlie. “Really?”

“Yeah. I wanted to copy Steve. I think I was five, and he was ten.”

“What happened?” I laughed.

Charlie arched a brow. “What do you think? I ended up in pink tulle.”

“Well, this is the 21st century now,” I said, looking back at the girls. “If a girl wants to wear a suit to a party, who’s to say she can’t?” 

“That’s always been my motto,” said a voice from over my shoulder. We turned, and my heart stopped.

The woman standing behind me must have been ten or fifteen years older than me, tanned with short, dirty blond hair in a similar style to Ella’s but undercut on one side and with streaks of grey peppered throughout. She was immaculately dressed in a dark blue suit, with a crisp, white shirt visible under the open jacket. Her flat, pointed shoes shone as bright as her gleaming silver belt buckle, and her shirt hung slightly open at the collar to reveal a glimpse of chiselled collarbone. She had three silver studs in one ear and none in the other. I swallowed and tried to ignore my suddenly thudding pulse. 

“Aunt Cath!” exclaimed Charlie, beaming and stepping forward to embrace her. 

I drew a blank for a moment until I remembered Peter had a sister, younger than him, who lived in France. She rarely made it over to visit, and I had never met her before. I knew she was unmarried with no children, and whenever Steve had mentioned her, which hadn’t been often, I imagined an elderly spinster, dressed in tweed and frills, possibly complete with pipe and monocle. 

Charlie put a hand on my shoulder to draw me towards her. “Cath, this is Lisa, Steve’s wife.”

“Nice to meet you, Lisa.”

Cath stuck out her hand, and after a moment, I remembered myself enough to return the gesture. She took mine and pumped it once. Her firm grip squeezed my fingers, and her eyes fixed intently on me. I prickled, immediately conscious of my outfit, nowhere near as cool as either Cath’s or Charlie’s. I had been pretty happy with how I looked when I checked myself in the mirror earlier; why did I suddenly feel horribly inadequate? My heart beat faster at the attention, and I coughed nervously when she released me. 

“You live in France, I hear?” I said, after flailing for a moment, then cursed myself immediately. What a stupid conversation opener. 

Cath smirked. “Last I checked.” 

I waited for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Why did I so desperately want to impress her, and why was I failing so badly?

“Dad didn’t tell me you were coming,” Charlie said, oblivious to my struggles.

“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it, so I kept it as a surprise,” Cath responded, turning back to Charlie. 

I breathed a sigh of relief at being out from under her scrutiny, but my heart still fluttered. I worried irrationally I’d failed my one chance to impress and been dismissed. 

“I had a meeting earlier that might have meant I couldn’t make my train,” Cath explained.

“Remind me what you do again?” Charlie said, steering us fluidly towards the bar. More guests flowed around us; I hadn’t realised the party proper had actually started. 

“I’m a senior journalist for a French newspaper,” Cath replied, accepting a beer with thanks. 

“Oh, really? Which one?” I asked as Charlie handed me a large glass of chilled white wine. 

Cath raised an eyebrow. “Do you know any French newspapers?” 

I flushed hot. “Er, no. Sorry.”

Cath smirked again. “Thought not.” 

Bile rose in my throat. “Would you excuse me? I can see my daughters getting into trouble over there,” I made up, seizing at an escape. 

Tears pricked in my eyes as I stormed across the floor in the direction I had last seen my children, trying to ignore the feelings of hurt and embarrassment that threatened to overwhelm me. What did I care if Steve’s aunt thought I was an idiot? Five minutes earlier, I hadn’t even known she existed. I shook myself, taking a couple of deep breaths. 

Fine. Whatever. She could think what she liked. It made no difference to me. 

* * *

Keep It In The Family ©2023 by Jess Newton

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Jess fell into writing as a teenager, tempted by the dark world of fanfiction, but it wasn’t until they hit their thirties that they started seriously writing original works. Keep It In The Family is their first romance novel, publishing in February 2023. Outside of writing they enjoy theatre, music and dancing, indoor climbing and sitting in the garden of a pub with a pint. They have two children without fur and one with.

Sign up here for Jess Newton ’s author newsletter.

TOP OF THE WORLD BY JODI PAYNE

Blurb:

Frankie Hoffman is excited about her new job in Summit Springs, developing a mountain biking adventure program for M&M Outfitters. Riding is her passion, and she loves every adrenaline fueled moment of her sport. Sure, she could have gotten a similar seasonal job back in Vermont, but Frankie chose Summit Springs for a reason, and her name is Aspen Young.

Aspen is a potter who moved home to Summit Springs to pursue her dream of owning an art gallery. Keeping the gallery’s doors open and her co-op of resident artists in business keeps her busy enough that she never thinks about Frankie anymore, and she has completely buried her broken heart.

Aspen’s not impressed when she comes home to find Frankie standing in her kitchen, and she doesn’t mince words when it’s time for Frankie to go home, making it clear she doesn’t want to see her ex again. But Frankie came a long way to win Aspen back and one rejection isn't going to shake her resolve. Can she make amends and get through Aspen’s walls?

Top of the World is a second chances Sapphic (lesbian, F/F) romance set in the fictional town of Summit Springs, Colorado, featuring an ice queen artist and her mountain biker, rough and tumble ex.

Tell us about this scene:

Frankie arrives at her new friend Patrick's house, where she is greeted by Patrick's wife Heather. Patrick doesn't know that Frankie used to date his sister, Aspen, and Frankie hadn't planned on enlightening him, until her surprise starts to feel more like an ambush.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love this scene because it highlights how we’re all only human. We’re all imperfect, emotional, and capable of making bad decisions despite our best intentions. Frankie has made a truly poor decision in the name of love, not just because her surprise for Aspen is more like an ambush set in Aspen’s own home, but also because it could look like she was using Aspen’s brother to get to Aspen (even though she wasn’t). By the time she realizes her mistake it’s too late to back out, and the rest of this scene is as awkward and uncomfortable and tense as you can imagine. This scene builds the mountain that Frankie is going to have to climb if she’s going to win Penny back. This scene is everything I love about second chance romances.

* * *

Excerpt:

Penny rounded another corner and the trees along the side of the road just stopped, opening up to this amazing view of mountain peaks and vast sky, and suddenly the whole crazy drive became completely worth it.

She finally found Patrick and Heather’s—and Penny’s—driveway and pulled in. Man, if this was their view, she’d made friends with the right people.

She turned in, easily finding somewhere to park. The house was gorgeous; it had a wood exterior with an A-frame roof, tall windows, and a wrap-around deck. There were two cars in the driveway, and she panicked. One of them she recognized as Patrick’s Jeep. Was the other one Penny’s? Fuck, she was a terrible stalker; she didn’t even know what kind of car Penny drove. 

She puffed out a breath and grabbed the bottle of wine she’d brought with her. She was here now—whatever mistake it might be, she was already in it. Time to suck it up and face the consequences. 

She had this. 

As she climbed the stairs to the deck, the view drew her in, and before she knocked she wandered over to the deck railing. The mountains seemed endless from up here, and the sky was higher than the few puffy clouds that clung to their peaks.

Wow.

“You made it.”

Frankie jumped at the sound of Heather’s voice and turned to face her. “Yes. I—sorry. This view…”

“I know. Isn’t it amazing?” Heather leaned on the railing with her.

“I was about to knock, but I got distracted.”

“I get it. Patrick walks right by it sometimes. He was raised in this house, and he’s used to it, I guess.” Heather shook her head, and Frankie saw the look of genuine wonder on her face. “But I still can’t believe I live here now.”

This was the house Penny was born in. This wasn’t just any random place. This was the house Penny talked about so much, and the place she’d come home to. She was in Penny’s personal space now. She needed to respect that. This was a bad idea.

She needed to come clean.

“Listen, Heather—”

“Come on in, maybe we’ll come back and watch the sunset.”

“Oh, sure. Uh…I brought wine.” She held the bottle out, feeling awkward.

“Hey, that’s great. Thank you.” Heather took the bottle and led her inside. “Aspen will appreciate that.”

Oh, God. Penny. “Heather, I really need to tell you—”

“Hey, Frankie. Welcome.” Patrick was washing dishes and nodded to her. “You found the place okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean…it’s just one road.”

“One long, winding road.” Heather laughed. 

“Right? I kept thinking I had to be lost.”

“Sorry about that. I should have warned you. It’s a bit of an adventure the first time people come up here.” Patrick dried his hands and came over to give her a hug.

“You could have just said it’s the driveway after the trees disappear and you can see heaven.” She grinned. It had felt just like that. Like angels might have started singing as she turned that corner.

“I don’t warn people about that part on purpose,” Patrick confessed. “Everyone says the same thing—why ruin the surprise?”

“We’re making like a quick, fakey chicken Alfredo. I was just about to put a salad together.” Heather set the wine on the counter.

“I can help,” she offered. “Pasta is great. I can hardly make chicken by itself, let alone Alfredo.”

Patrick glanced at Heather. “Does that get me off the hook?”

“No.” Heather sighed. “Nice try. You get to set the table. We’re eating on the deck, so turn on the heater, will you?”

“On it. Glad you made it, Frankie.”

“Yeah. Um…” Patrick disappeared outside before she could get anything out about Penny.

“Are you okay with peppers in your salad? Some people aren’t good with peppers.”

“Peppers are fine. Anything is fine. Thanks. Listen, I need to tell you something.”

Heather nodded and went to the fridge. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She’d finally adjusted to the altitude, now if she could just get this out of her mouth. “It’s about Pen—Aspen.”

“Have you met Aspen? She’ll be here in a bit; she closes up the gallery around six.”

“I know her. From Vermont. She and I went to school together and…we…uh. We dated. A bit.” A bit? They’d lived in each other’s pockets and fucked like bunnies for a summer and two whole semesters.

Heather closed the fridge door and stared at her. “You…and Aspen?”

She nodded, feeling so fucking guilty for lying. Jesus, this was a mess. What was she thinking?

“I should probably…this was a nice invitation…I mean, I had no idea who Patrick was when I met you on the trail; that was total coincidence, but I figured it out after and I should have said something before I accepted for tonight. I just—I didn’t want Penny to find out I was here from…from anyone else. I wanted to tell her myself.”

“Penny?” Heather’s head tilted. “Okay. So it didn’t end well, I take it?”

It ended. She hadn’t ended it well. “It wasn’t like that. We didn’t fight or anything. I just—”

Heather held up a hand. “You don’t have to tell me. But…I mean, is it going to make dinner awkward?”

Frankie sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Yes, probably. Maybe I should go? We can do this another time. I don’t think I should ambush her in her own house.”

“Mm. Yeah. And, well, it’s just that she’s got something to tell us about when she gets home, something she wants to celebrate…” Heather winced a little. “She was excited, you know?” 

Frankie nodded. “Yeah. I get it. You know what? I definitely don’t want to ruin her day then. And I don’t want you two in the middle of this. I’m so sorry. But we should ride again soon.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Cool. So you’ll explain to Patrick for me? I’m just—”

The door opened, letting in a cool breeze. “Okay. I’m worried about my kitchen, Patrick.”

Penny.

Shit.

* * *

Top of the World ©2022 by Jodi Payne

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Jodi takes herself way too seriously and has been known to randomly break out in song. Her queer MCs are imperfect but genuine, stubborn but likable, often kinky, and frequently their own worst enemies. They are characters you can’t help but fall in love with while they stumble along the path to their happily ever after. For those looking to get on her good side, Jodi’s addictions include nonfat lattes, Malbec and tequila any way you pour it.

Sign up here for Jodi Payne ’s author newsletter.

THE SUMMER WE'VE HAD BY KATHERINE BLAKEMAN

Blurb:

After a nightmare couple of years following the death of her celebrity singer mother, Cass Mulligan is moving down to the sun, sea and shingle of Cornwall for a fresh start. But she soon realises that she’s not the only one in need of some TLC…

Felicia Wilson’s life is one long series of spinning plates. She has Dissociative Identity Disorder, a system of five alternate personalities living in her body, and they all have different hopes, fears and desires.

When Cass is thrown together with Felicia, some beautiful friendships grow, and soon there is substantial mutual attraction between Cass and dominant alter Heather. But if things go wrong, they could go very wrong. Can they build a relationship AND keep everybody happy?

Tell us about this scene:

Anxious about her growing crush on Heather, Cass has distanced herself from her and all of the alternate personalities. This is the first time they've seen each other in two weeks, and Cass soon realises that her crush is showing no signs of going away.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

My favourite season is summer, and this scene, to me, encapsulates the perfect summer evening. Good, loving company with whom one is comfortable, beautiful scenery, warm weather and sunshine. Peace and tranquillity. I seem to recall writing this scene on a particularly dreary early-spring day in the early 2020 lockdown, and it seemed like a far-flung concept, that we would eventually be free again to socialise, and go wherever we wanted, and fall in love.

* * *

Excerpt:

  “Hello, stranger!” Heather said when Cass opened the front door to her. Then she launched herself at Cass in a hug. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered in her ear.

  Cass felt her whole body tingle. Being back in Heather’s presence felt like a drink of water on a hot day. She almost laughed at the thought when it popped into her head, dizzy with euphoria and the endorphins that had been released as a result of her hug. She didn’t get the urge to kiss someone very often, being asexual, but she did now. She quickly stepped back and extracted herself from the hug. Heather let her go, but kept hold of her hands.

  “Why have you been hiding away?” she said, releasing one of Cass’s hands to tuck a strand of hair behind Cass’s ear.

  Cass shook her head and swallowed hard. “I had to,” she croaked eventually.

  “Well, I missed you. We all did. We were worried. If it’s something you truly needed to do, then fine, but if you were just embarrassed about what happened, then… don’t be. It just proves you’re real.”

  Cass couldn’t stop herself. She pulled Heather back in for another hug, noticing idly how perfectly their bodies fit together. She squeezed her tight, tighter than she’d ever done to anyone. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Armed with a map, their keys, two water bottles and their phones, they set out in the gorgeous evening sun and headed for the hills. They didn’t talk the whole way, but when they did they were mostly giggling, and at one point Heather gave Cass an affectionate biff on the arm with a water bottle, sending her stumbling, laughing, into a bush. Looking back on it later that night, Cass observed that there had been something surreal about the whole evening. It was as if all the whirling, frothing, scurrying thoughts in her head had stilled as she felt true companionship, after a lifetime of being more or less alone. Beverley had been a wonderful mother in many respects, but she hadn’t always been there for her as a child or as a teenager, she realised. But she didn’t dwell on it on the way up the hill – she forced herself to remain in the moment, focus on just being, and she didn’t regret it, because somehow not even her acrophobia objected to the heights.

  It was quite arduous, going up that hill in the scorching June sun, and on the steepest bits they could hear nothing but grasshoppers and the sound of their own panting. Their shadows began to melt together as they leaned on each other for support, their legs screaming. But then they reached the top and went through a little gate, and saw a sign announcing their arrival at the peak. They turned around and gasped.

  It lifted Cass’s heart ever higher to see the wonder play across Heather’s face. Cornwall stretched out before them, their village barely distinguishable amongst the hundreds of others. There were other hills too, of course, and if they squinted they could just see the little flecks of darkness on them that signalled other hikers. Then, the sea. A perfect blue pool, light glinting off its ripples, it was utterly breathtaking. For the first time in Cass’s life, she got a sense of how tiny all humans were against the world.

  “Oh, my…” Heather murmured, stretching a hand out towards the sea as if to touch it. Cass couldn’t stop smiling, even though it was making her face hurt. Heather sank to the floor after a minute, probably to give her legs some time to recover, and Cass sat down where she stood a little way behind her, at an angle where she could sit and observe the expressions on Heather’s face. The girl was so innocent at heart, she realised. The type who would always sing at any given opportunity, who would give herself freely to whatever or whoever she chose to devote her heart to, who would always cling onto some sort of faith. It was lovely. More than lovely… wholesome. Fulfilling. It healed a little piece of Cass, to realise that no matter how much pain and heartache a person could go through, they could still preserve the purity of their core.

  Her mum had been a testament to that. She had never stopped being kind despite her rough ride, trying to balance her incredibly high-pressure career with motherhood and eventually mental illness. Cass gazed up at the clouds, and hoped her mum was riding atop them, looking down on her with the love and pride that, in later years, she had never held back on showing. If her mum was on the clouds, she could move freely like she always had, radiating her love onto every corner of the Earth, from Cornwall to her native New Zealand, watering flowers with little showers, providing much-needed shade every now and again, and relishing every chance she got to make people happy. In that respect, she lived on.

* * *

The Summer We've Had ©2023 by Katherine Blakeman

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Katherine Blakeman is a writer of (mostly!) LGBTQ+ romances, most recently The Summer We've Had, a sunny Sapphic romance set in Cornwall featuring a character with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

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LOVE DETOUR BY ALLIE MCDERMID

Blurb:

Kirsty Hamilton would do anything for family, but when her mother insists she enters a dating contest to publicise their cafe, her commitment is put to the test.

Rhona Devi dreams of travelling the world. When she takes on a photography job to earn some cash, she never expects it to lead to her biggest adventure yet.

Rhona thinks she deserves a chance. Kirsty doesn’t see the point. Will they be able to meet somewhere in the middle?

Book two in the Lovefest series features a love on a time-limit romance oozing with sexual chemistry and flirtatious banter. Buy Love Detour today and see if love truly can defy the odds.

Tell us about this scene:

After entering a dating contest to promote her family's business, Kirsty has unwittingly fallen for the contest's photographer. Following a last minute disaster with her sister's wedding photographer, Rhona has stepped up to save the day, and hopefully get a little closer to Kirsty.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

There was never any doubt that Rhona and Kirsty liked each other—they had chemistry from the start—but this was the first time they’d truly been alone. What could be more perfect? Dancing under the stars, in the grounds of a castle, with the girl you’ve got your heart set on? Sadly, just like real life, nothing ever goes to plan.

When asked to pick a favourite scene, this one instantly sprung to mind. It’s almost like a fairytale and I think, deep down, we’d all like to experience a romance like that. It’s the start of something great and just goes to show, love can take you in any direction, if you just trust the process and follow your heart.

* * *

Excerpt:

‘I know, right? Little did he know that my eyes were on the photographer instead.’

Rhona’s gaze dropped to her shoes, self-consciousness washing over her like an icy shower. It was one thing to ask for a dance and share flirty jokes, but now she was off the clock it was a different matter. Things could actually go somewhere.

Kirsty stopped in her tracks, at the entrance to the maze. ‘What? No comeback?’

‘It’s just—’ Rhona shrugged as she stuffed her hands in her pockets.

‘Shit. This is because of that text, isn’t it?’ Kirtsy wandered to the nearest marble bench, plonking herself down.

Rhona joined her, the cold stone bringing out instant goosebumps.

Usually shit like Kirsty’s text wouldn’t bother her. She had thick skin. But hearing it from Kirsty touched a nerve. There was nothing wrong with being a player, or whatever you wanted to call it, but she didn’t want Kirsty thinking that’s who she was. That’s what was bothering her most. Why was she so bugged about Kirsty’s opinion? ‘Stuff like this doesn’t usually get to me,’ she said, deciding honesty was the policy.

‘And yet, here we are.’

Once again, Rhona’s shoes were the most interesting thing in the world. Kirsty downed her wine before placing the empty glass on the grass beside the bench.

‘Getting sensitive in my old age, I guess.’ She forced a half smile, making herself lock eyes with Kirsty. ‘And I’m tired. Hard to be witty when my mind’s half asleep.’

‘Then don’t be witty. Just be honest.’

Rhona chuckled under her breath, straightening herself. Now, there was an invitation. Where to start? She considered her options, finally settling on a thought that had been at the forefront of her mind for most of the day. ‘Okay.’ Kirsty bit back a smile and Rhona couldn’t help but return it. ‘I’ve seen my fair share of bridesmaid dresses, but this one,’ she said, waggling a finger up and down Kirsty’s torso. ‘This one is a new favourite. The neckline is particularly inspired.’ Lilac was a nice colour on Kirsty, but it was the way the loose neckline draped over her cleavage that sealed the deal.

‘This old thing,’ Kirsty feigned pawing at the neckline to reveal even more of her breasts.

Their attention shifted to the castle. Someone must have propped a door open and music spilled into the night air, carrying it down to their private haven like it was a whisper meant only for them.

A slow song came on, something by Ed Sheeran – they all sounded the same to Rhona – and she took the chance to get to her feet, extending a hand to Kirsty. ‘I believe I owe you a dance.’

Kirsty smiled, taking Rhona’s hand and closing the gap between them. She placed her free hand on Rhona’s upper arm, bringing them closer still.

The air was electric.

They swayed in time with the music, moving as one, Rhona’s hand around Kirsty’s waist, locking them together.

‘Much better without any eyes on us, eh?’ Kirsty said, resting their clasped hands against Rhona’s chest.

‘Much,’ Rhona said, and lightly kissed Kirsty’s knuckles.

Her whole body tingled with anticipation, and maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed the stars were shining a little brighter just for them.

They slotted together perfectly, Kirsty’s body now pressed against Rhona’s as they shuffled to the song.

If she closed her eyes they could be anywhere, just the two of them. It was perfect.

Before they knew it, the song was over and another tune took its place. Rhona extended her left hand into the air, keeping hold of Kirsty’s, inviting her to spin. She twirled, the light from the castle highlighting her face and curves. Rhona wished she had her camera, but she wouldn’t want to take herself out of the moment, anyway. Instead she focused on committing the image to memory.

Kirsty returned to their original position, nuzzling into Rhona’s neck.

Nothing had ever felt so natural. It was like they’d known each other for years.

The spell was broken when some weird 80s pop song came on.

Kirsty lifted her head and Rhona felt the thrum of her heartbeat as she snagged her gaze. You didn’t need to be psychic to know what she was thinking. Rhona closed the gap and was surprised when Kirsty spoke, her lips so close she could feel them graze hers with every word.

‘You’re so—’

‘Kirsty,’ a woman’s voice called. ‘Oh, shit, Jesus, sorry.’

Rhona couldn’t help but laugh at the way Ashley spun with her hands covering her eyes. You’d think she’d just walked in on them naked.

Kirsty cleared her throat, her body relaxing as she stepped back, creating an inch of space between them. ‘Ash, what’s up?’

Even in the dim light, it was obvious Ashley was the colour of a tomato. She dropped her hands, crossing them over her chest, still embarrassed. ‘It’s just I saw you come down here and I thought it would be a good chance to have a private chat about something. I didn’t know you were already doing that.’ She looked back to the castle like making eye contact was the hardest thing in the world.

‘Honestly, it’s fine. I’m going home anyway,’ Rhona said, letting go of Kirsty. The moment was gone. They could rekindle it when they went for a drink next week. She dipped so her lips were level with Kirsty’s ear, a hand on her waist to keep steady. ‘Until next week.’ She kissed her on the cheek before straightening her waistcoat. ‘See you, Ashley. Say hi to Hazel for me.’

Rhona wandered back up the path with a final look to Kirsty. She was beautiful. Probably a good thing they’d been interrupted or she never would have made it to her parent’s house.

* * *

Love Detour ©2022 by Allie McDermid

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Allie McDermid is a sapphic romance author. Her debut novel, Love Charade, was published in August 2022.

Born and raised in Perth, Allie now lives in Glasgow with her ever-growing gang of cats. She is partial to a good scone.

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TWICE UPON A TRAIN BY K. A. MOLL

Blurb:

At 40, Dr. Keegan Wade is the Chief of Trauma Surgery, a rising star at NYC General. She's immersed 24-7 in work that she once loved. No one waits for her at home, and she has nothing to offer. Anxiety has her in a chokehold, and she'd give anything to sleep more than two consecutive hours. At the urging of a friend, she takes a long overdue vacation, a cross-country trip on a restored steam train, in hopes that time away from the pressures of her job will solve her problems.

 At 39, Willow Lord is a recent college graduate, a social worker in desperate need of a job. Divorced for nine years, she's lived in poverty, saving coins to buy cat food. Next month, the first payments on her student loans are due. She has no time for a vacation, but when her friend, a friend who won't take no for an answer, insists, she sends out resumes and boards The Frisco Express—New York City to California.

 As girls, they met and fell in love. Twenty-six years later, they're reunited on The Frisco Express, and love is given a second chance.

Tell us about this scene:

Twice Upon A Train is the first book in the Dallin Series. This is the opening scene of chapter one.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

In this scene, I tried to capture who Keegan was before Willow came into her life. I also tried to capture what an operating room might be like from a surgeon's perspective. It's my number one scene for no reason other than I like how it turned out.

* * *

Excerpt:

Keegan caught sight of movement in her peripheral vision. Premeds—stepping closer to anesthesia, lifting onto their toes, peering wide-eyed over the drapes. Thank God NYC General’s policy prevented them from scrubbing in. “Alright, that’s it,” she barked. “All of you, move right now, move to that perfect position, the one you’ve obviously been searching for, and stay there until I say you can move again. This patient deserves better than to have her surgeon distracted by the constant shuffle of your feet.” It was a routine gallbladder operation, one that she should have been able to do in her sleep. But she’d lost her edge, lost what top surgeons took for granted, the ability to remain cool under pressure. Distractions—an unexpected movement, a loud noise, a negative thought—in recent days, maybe weeks, they’d gotten the best of her. “If my hand slips,” she continued, “even by one millimeter, I’ll pierce this patient’s bile duct. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“No, Dr. Wade.”

“No, Doctor.”

Smooth move, Sherlock. Let everyone know you’re worried about making a beginner’s error, that’s the way to build confidence. She returned her attention to the hot gallbladder, thinking about the stress of her new position—Chief of Trauma Surgery. From there, her mind wandered back to her students. You were just like them, you know, eager to learn, determined to change the world, to make a difference. Like them, you wanted to help the less fortunate, to be better than the doctors who served as your teachers, to repair a broken system. She removed her skull cap, making her way to the family waiting room, trying to remember the precise moment when she’d lost her passion for medicine. “The surgery went well,” she said, sitting next to the husband. “She’ll be in recovery for a couple of hours.” She answered his questions, providing an appropriate amount of detail. As she stepped off, wanting nothing more than to slip back to her office unnoticed, an attractive brunette joined her.

“Are you okay?” Naomi asked. “Because you seemed stressed in the OR, short with the students, not yourself.” This familiarity, this crossing of boundaries, it was why doctors should never sleep with their nurses, not even once. 

“I’ve been working around the clock for days,” Keegan responded. “I’m exhausted and dehydrated. Other than that, I’m good as gold.” If only that were all it was.

“We’re through the worst of it,” Naomi said, referring to the Interstate pileup that had filled the ER with mangled limbs and head-traumas. “You should take some time off. You never take time off.” She brushed Keegan’s hand with her fingertips. “Come on; it’ll be good for you.” It had been a year since that night, the one where their ethical boundaries had blurred, and still, there were times she acted as if they were lovers.

“Maybe so,” Keegan answered. “I’ll think about it.” It’d been five years since her last vacation; maybe a trip would be helpful. God knows she needed to do something.

“So, do it then,” Naomi persisted, playfully bumping into her. “What’s stopping you? Surely, it can’t be the money. I mean, with all the surgeries you do; you must be rolling in dough. In the grand scheme of things, what’s a week or two off?”

* * *

Twice Upon A Train ©2019 by K. A. Moll

Published by KAM Books, LLC

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from the author

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

K.A. Moll is a best-selling author of lesbian fiction. She writes stories about lesbians who find healing in the love of a soul mate. Writing as K.A. Moll, she is the author of eleven novels—Soul Mates, Coming to Terms, Haunting Love, Change of Heart, For A Moment’s Indiscretion, Blue Ice Landing, Whispers of the Heart, Twice Upon A Train, Seeing by Heart, The Preacher's Daughter, and Defining Moment. Her work in progress is Unscripted, book #4 in the Dallin Series. Writing as Cade Brogan, she is the author of two novels—Close Enough to Touch and Deadly Deception.

Sign up here for K. A. Moll ’s author newsletter.

CONSTITUTION CHECK (DUNGEONS AND DATING #4) BY KATHERINE MCINTYRE

Blurb:

One night was all Kelly promised. One night was all Tabby offered. And yet one night wasn’t nearly enough…

Kelly Hernandez is on the mend. After the loss of her girlfriend to a car accident, everyone expects her to be destroyed. The worst part is—she isn’t, and the guilt plagues her more each day. All she’s looking for is a little distraction, something to take her away from herself, even if it’s only for a spell.

Tabby Reynolds is on the prowl, searching for her flavor of the night. Everyone sees the roller derby stud, not the geeky accountant who secretly wants a relationship. However, when she spots Kelly by her lonesome at the bar, some flirtation turns into one hot as hell encounter in the back alley.

Except Kelly and Tabby run in the same circles, and all too fast, they see each other again and then again, until they both cave to their desires. Casual and easy—that’s what they agree on. However, when Tabby tears her ACL, taking her out of roller derby, the relationship between them starts to deepen beyond what either of them planned. However, the past trauma Kelly’s running from and Tabby’s growing insecurities might cold snap any chance of something real before it can bloom.

Roll the Dice on Romance at Tabletop Tavern…

Tell us about this scene:

It's New Year's eve, and the heroines, Kelly and Tabby meet at the bar, both on the hunt for a fling.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene was from early on in the book, but one of the things I loved about it was how much it displayed Tabby and Kelly's chemistry from the start. Their first encounter was sizzling, and I loved seeing the two of them deepen as feelings began to enter into the equation.

* * *

Excerpt:

Tabby had wanted three things when she’d entered Wild Street tonight.

A drink, which she was already close to demolishing.

A gorgeous girl for company, and holy fuck did Kelly fit the bill.

And one good fuck to ring in the new year. With the scorching perusals Kelly coyly delivered, chances were high on the last one.

She’d honestly expected to spend half the night trying to pay attention to women who bored the hell out of her for the chance to get laid—seemed like all her dates went that way recently. However, within seconds of meeting Kelly, she’d been captivated. And not just because Kelly was a stone-cold fox.

Tabby shifted in her seat, taking another sip of her cider to break up the long stretches of open staring at this woman. With curves Tabby wanted to sink her teeth into, smooth sepia skin, long wavy black tresses, the woman had bombshell written all over her. Combine that with clever, dark eyes and an enigmatic smirk, and her heart couldn’t take much more.

But even more than she’d expected—Kelly fascinated her. The woman dove in for something personal one moment while telling a witty story about Tabletop Tavern the next. And go figure, Kelly worked for Roxie, someone Tabby had known before Rox met the love of her life, Mel. Lucky bastards.

Nothing Tabby was on a trajectory to find.

Tabby leaned in, not-so-accidentally bumping her knee against Kelly’s. Watching the woman shift her hips in her seat was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if she said her briefs were dry. The electricity that zinged between her and Kelly with every scorching look, every brush against the other, every flirty word amped her higher and higher.

“Okay, so enough about my work,” Kelly said, taking a final from her glass. “I want to hear about what you do.” She plucked one of the cherries from her drink and sank her teeth into it slowly, teasingly. Those crimson lips on full display had Tabby going out of her mind. Her pussy throbbed at the thought of tasting this decadent, sweet-as-sin woman.

Kelly watched her expectantly as she finished off the cherry. Right. She was supposed to be talking about her job. And while she loved working with numbers, most folks tuned out once she said the word accountant.

Tabby lifted a brow. “I’d much rather discuss what I’d like to do to you.”

“Oh yeah?” Kelly said, her lips curling with a smirk.

Tabby tilted forward, close enough that her lips brushed against Kelly’s ear. The delicious scent of rose perfume filled her nose.

“The second I saw you, sweetheart, all I could think about was getting a taste of that sinful mouth of yours. I’d lick and suck my way down your neck and farther. Then once you’re panting for me, I’ll spread your legs and take a taste down there too. I bet you’re as sweet as one of these cherries.” With that, she reached into Kelly’s drink, plucking a cherry from the bottom and popping it into her own mouth. She kept her gaze on Kelly the entire time, enjoying the way the woman’s eyes flared with heat.

Saying the words out loud had her pussy drenched, tingling with everything she imagined doing from the moment she caught Kelly sitting by her lonesome at the bar. Bold? Sure, but Tabby had ditched the awkward girl she’d been once she emerged from college a completely different person. No more social anxiety, no more stupid dreams of ‘the one,’ and no more waiting for someone to see her.

Nowadays, if Tabby saw a hottie she wanted, she went for them.

A couple of bruises to her ego couldn’t hurt worse than a derby bout.

* * *

Constitution Check (Dungeons and Dating #4) ©2022 by Katherine McIntyre

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

About the Author:

Geeky Queer Romance.

Katherine McIntyre is a feisty chick with a big attitude despite her short stature.

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BIRDS OF A FEATHER BY LAINA VILLENEUVE

Blurb:

Adrienne Stecher has always known she’s different, and she’s fine with her place on the spectrum. She loves her job and her apartment, and she’s happy to help out her grandfather a few times a month. If she could just get the peacocks that plague his neighborhood to stop destroying his yard, she’d be set.

Native to Mississippi, Casey Knight knows beautiful when she sees it, and California is full of beauty. She appreciates everything about her college town—the weather, her job, and the majestic birds that populate her neighborhood.

Though every encounter Casey has with Adrienne seems designed to scare her away along with the birds, Casey keeps finding herself drawn back to her neighbor’s granddaughter. Adrienne is adamant that her quirks make it impossible to date, but something about her makes Casey just as certain that they could be birds of a feather.

Tell us about this scene:

This scene is about a third of the way through the book. Casey has been encouraging Adrienne to try new things and has recently inquired about Adrienne’s dating history. Adrienne’s answer, that she does not date because she “had a roommate in college and that was enough” has created more questions than answers for Casey. To avoid confusion, I'll add that Elmo is a goldendoodle that Adrienne has recently adopted.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I chose this scene because it reveals how differently my characters think. Casey is neurotypical; Adrienne is not. The interactions they have had in the first part of the book would be read by most neurotypical people as dates or as time spent together that moves the two people forward toward dating. Adrienne processes things in a very different way, and this scene demonstrates why she does not think she is well suited for dating. One of the things I want a romance story to do is offer an authentic conflict. I wanted to convey how two people can be communicating effectively in their own ways and still enter into a legitimate conflict. I love the way Casey pushes Adrienne, and I love that Adrienne doesn’t let social norms dictate how she “should” answer a question. Love that grows from knowing and accepting someone for who they are intrinsically is a beautiful thing, and that’s what I see in this scene.

* * *

Excerpt:

“I’ve heard people swear off dating because of a broken heart, but because of a bad roommate experience...? I can’t make sense of it.”

“Luckily, we’re not living together or dating, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“But it’s bugging me.”

I didn’t owe Casey anything and was tempted to tell her that and get back to my quiet evening, but I couldn’t because I actually did owe her. She had done so much to help with Elmo, and obviously hanging out together had given her a skewed impression of me. “I’ve been happy to spend time with you and appreciate you helping out with Elmo.”

“But…”

“But you don’t know what that costs. After we spend time together, not just you, if I spend time with anyone, I need time to recharge after that, and I can’t do that if someone is potentially going to pop into my space.”

“You had a roommate that popped into your space?”

“I had one roommate I absolutely could not get away from, even when she wasn’t in our room. She was an art major, and she had dozens of self-portraits. Some of them weren’t small, either, and she had them hanging on her wall. I had to look at them from the moment I got up to the moment I went to sleep. That was not a good year for me.”

“Okay. That’s a pretty good bad-roommate story, but you had to grit your way through that the same as tons of college students have to bite their tongue to get through a term. If you were dating someone who drew a bunch of self-portraits, you could tell them to hang them in the studio because you’d probably have more than one room to live in.”

She had a point but how could I explain that even when I was in Revelia with Pops and he was on his side of the house, there was a part of me that had to be prepared for him to ask a question or talk to me for some reason which would call for me to run my internal decoding software? To have that ready meant that my mental system was up and running, so even if he never talked to me the whole day, I was still exhausted. “I need a lot of space,” is what I told her. 

“Understood. Not everyone wants a Velcro girlfriend. I’m pretty independent as well which has probably contributed to a few of my breakups. I’ve been accused of not putting enough of my focus on my girlfriend.”

“Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend now?” I knew why I didn’t have a girlfriend, but if being paired up was so important to Casey, why didn’t she have a girlfriend?

“My ex was unhappy with my decision to spend more time grooming dogs and less time on my college classes. She has a vision of who she’s gonna be, and that does not include being with an uneducated bumpkin.”

“You’re not a bumpkin.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re looking for a new girlfriend?”

“I’m kind of interested in someone.”

“You are?” I asked. Maybe she had told Pops about someone and figured that he would have told me.

“Um, yeah, but I don’t get the impression she thinks I’m cute.”

“Maybe it’s because you look like a peacock,” I said. 

“You think I’d be cuter if I dyed my hair all one color? What do you go for? Blond? Brunette? Jet black? Red?”

“You should probably ask the person you’re interested in,” I said. 

“I am.”

It felt like someone had dropped a bowling ball into my stomach. “You can’t like me!”

“Sorry. I think I do.”

“But I don’t date.”

“You keep sayin’ that, but what if I called our metro ride a date?”

“I call that a catastrophe,” I said. Recalling how I ran off the train still made me cringe. “That is the perfect example of why I should not date.”

“I enjoyed spendin’ time with you. It didn’t matter to me that we didn’t get all the way to West Hollywood.”

“After it’s happened a dozen times, it will matter.”

“If you weren’t worried about whatever it is you’re worried about, would I be someone you’d go out with?”

“There are so many other people who would be better for you to date.”

“Not that I’ve met,” Casey said.

“Are we done now?”

“That depends. Will you go out with me?”

“No.”

“What about Elmo? If I give him a call, would he go out with me on Sunday?”

“I’m hanging up now,” I said and did without waiting for her to say anything. Asking about the dog! That was cheating.

* * *

Birds of a Feather ©2022 by Laina Villeneuve

Published by Bella Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bella Books

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Laina Villeneuve is the author of ten romance novels with Bella Books. So far, every book has at least one horse in it. She lives in Southern California with her wife of seventeen years, her three children, two adorable poodles and too many peacocks to count.

Sign up here for Laina Villeneuve ’s author newsletter.

ONE MORE CHANCE: A 40+ MIDLIFE SAPPHIC ROMANCE BY TIFFANY E. TAYLOR

Blurb:

Seven years after her wife’s tragic death, a still-mourning Aimée “Jake” Charron finds herself unexpectedly intrigued by a personal ad sent to her by one of her best friends. It was a femme sucker punch right to the gut, and Jake finds her inner alpha butch responding with an almost predatory desire.

After two failed relationships, Geneva Raineri doesn’t believe in fairy tales and happily-ever-afters anymore. Her neighbor posts a personal ad Gen wrote as a joke on a butch/femme romance site—and when a self-professed alpha butch named Jake responds, Gen finds herself swept up into a sensual game of cat-and-mouse that soon has a captivated Gen feeling like Jake’s prey.

Jake knows she’s already had one chance at a forever love, but lost it when her wife died. She wants Gen with a desire she’d thought was long dead—but Jake believes expecting to find another great love after you’ve already had one and lost it is a fool’s game.

Gen, however, is determined to prove to Jake that anyone lucky enough to be given another shot at happiness needs to grab it with both hands and never let it go.

As Jake and Gen navigate personal journeys that include heartbreak, self-discovery, passion, and courage, they both discover that risking everything to take one more chance on love might ultimately be their salvation.

Tell us about this scene:

After a sensual online game of cat-and-mouse becomes more serious than Californian Jake Charron ever intended, a personal visit to captivating Floridian Genevra Raineri brings Jake the heartbreaking realization that she was falling in love again—something she’d sworn she would never do again after losing her wife to cancer seven years prior.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Losing the love of her life to cervical cancer seven years prior has hardened Jake Charron’s heart to the point that no woman has ever been able to penetrate that shell. She dates, she has sex, but everything is simply surface fun, because Jake is convinced she'd had her shot at love and lost it. “Who am I?” she asks one of her best friends, “to believe that I should get another chance, when I should be grateful I had anything at all? A lot of people don't even get that.”

Jake is captivated, however, when she meets Geneva Ranieri online because of a sultry personal ad Gen posts online at the daring of a friend. Online teasing has led to deeper conversations, which eventually results in personal face-to-face visits, even though Jake lives in California and Gen lives in Florida. When Jake visits Gen in Florida and sees everything that comes along with Gen, including her adorable baby Gia, Jake realizes she's falling in love with Gen—and the soul-deep anguish that seizes her is almost unbearable. Too petrified to take another chance on love after the debilitating loss of her wife, Jake vows she's going to walk away from everything the beautiful, compassionate Gen is offering to keep her heart safe.

I love this scene because it is so pivotal. Jake rejects everything Gen is holding out to her, too afraid to start walking down the road of healing with a woman she knows she has fallen in love with. Rather than keep herself safe, as she tries to tell herself her emotional wall will do, she ends up re-breaking a heart that is already battered and torn, convinced it's her destiny to end up alone.

Because of Jake's fear and her inability to trust anything her heart tells her, she slams the door on her burgeoning emotions and buries everything deep inside herself once again. In this scene, we see Jake come to this heartbreaking decision during the wee hours of the morning when Gen is asleep in her arms, positive she has no choice but to turn her back and walk away from a life she longs for with every fiber of her being

* * *

Excerpt:

The hours passed as they took and gave each other pleasure. As the clock struck three, Jake felt Gen sigh softly from her comfortable place within Jake’s arms, both of them spent from their lovemaking. “As much as I don’t want to move, Jake, we need to sleep in my room,” Gen said drowsily, untangling herself from Jake. “Just in case Gia wakes up when we’re asleep. Welcome to my world of motherhood,” she added, laughing softly, as she gathered up her clothing.

Jake smiled and gave her a long kiss. “Let me get something to sleep in, then I’ll meet you there, beautiful one,” she said, when she finally raised her head. After making sure the fire was out, Jake went to her room to throw on shorts and a T-shirt.

At the entrance of Gen’s room, she paused for a moment. Gen had donned a plain white cotton nightgown and was leaning over the co-sleeper attached to her bed, checking on her sleeping daughter. Jake felt an unexpected pang of yearning so powerful, she literally felt as though the wind had been knocked from her.

She wanted this, she realized, fighting down the sudden tears that threatened to spring, unbidden, from some deep, long-buried part of herself. She wanted to belong to a world where her day ended by climbing into a warm, comfortable bed with her beloved wife. When waking up in the morning meant seeing the joyous smile of her beloved child across the table from her at breakfast.

She wanted to feel as though she belonged to someone and that someone belonged to her—not just for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health—but indelibly, irrevocably, written in the stars for this lifetime, and for hundreds of lifetimes into the future. She wanted it to be with the beautiful, loving woman standing in front of her.

There was no doubt about it. She was falling in love with Genevra Raineri.

The realization brought such a deep sadness, Jake fought against the emotion that suddenly threatened to spill over. They both had lives and careers in two worlds so far away from each other, it would take a miracle to bring those worlds together. Gen would never move to California, Jake knew. Her life, her career, her family in Florida were too important to her.

Jake wasn’t sure she could give up her life in California to relocate to Florida either. She had fought so hard to reestablish her life after Bonnie died, it almost felt like a betrayal to contemplate giving it up. What if she risked opening her heart again and things didn’t work out between her and Gen? Jake didn’t know if she would be able to survive the loss of another woman she loved.

She became conscious that Gen had gotten into bed and was silently watching her as she stood there, lost in thought. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she crossed the room and climbed into the bed beside her. “Penny for your thoughts?” Gen asked quietly, laying her head on Jake’s chest as Jake wrapped her in her arms.

Jake thought fast, not wanting to tell Gen what she’d really been thinking. “Sometimes, I can’t understand the bravery it must have taken for you to decide to have Gia on your own,” she improvised, stroking Gen’s silky hair. “I know you have your friends and your family, but it still must be hard to be a single parent.”

“In some ways, it would probably be easier if I was married and Gia had two parents,” Gen admitted, wondering what had prompted this line of thought from Jake. “When I’m home, I don’t get a break. I can’t say, ‘Honey, I’m at my limit, it’s your turn to take care of the baby now.’ If I’ve had a bad day at work and I come home exhausted, it can be a little rough.”

She sighed and rubbed her cheek against Jake’s strong shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to be a mother so badly, though, and I knew this would probably be my last chance to have a child, married or not. So, there you have it.” 

Jake kissed Gen’s forehead softly. “Gia is lucky to have you for a mother.”

She heard the drowsy smile in Gen’s voice. “I’m lucky to have her for a daughter. She’s an extraordinary child, and there are times I don’t know what I did to be so blessed.” There was a long moment of silence. Gen’s breathing became softer and more even, and Jake realized she had fallen asleep.

“Good night, beautiful one,” she whispered, tightening her arms around her. Lying awake in the darkness, she spent the rest of the night in deep thought, until the first rays of dawn crept into the room and she finally slid into blessed silence.

* * *

One More Chance: A 40+ Midlife Sapphic Romance ©2022 by Tiffany E. Taylor

Published by Painted Hearts Publishing

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* * *

About the Author:

Tiffany E. Taylor lives with her spouse and their daughter in an idyllic little west-central Florida coastal town where the sapphic invasion is in full force. The Taylors belong to the butch/femme community of which she writes about so passionately.

Sign up here for Tiffany E. Taylor ’s author newsletter.

IN HER EYES BY MARCELLA MANIBUSAN

Blurb:

Same sex marriage is legal, but does that mean happily ever after?

For Mia, it certainly seemed that way after she married Jamie and they built a family. When she hits the road for work, she is blindsided by unexpected revelations that make her question everything. Her life. Her work. Her marriage. While she struggles to find answers, the clock ticks toward tragedy.

Summer, a famous musician, can have everything she wants but when it comes to love, the woman she wants most is already taken. She has suppressed her love for Mia over the years, but can no longer hold back. As her feelings pour out and her relationship with Mia evolves, will Summer get what she wants this time?

Tell us about this scene:

Mia is our main character, tagging along as a friend to visit Summer's parents. Summer has professed her love for Mia who is now trying to sort out her feelings for Summer.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

There is a building tension between Summer and Mia throughout the book, after Summer professed her love to Mia. Up until this point, though, Mia has remained mostly neutral about it, at least out loud. This is the first time she's able to talk about the situation with someone other than herself and saying even a little bit of it out loud is an important step to reconciling her feelings. Just before this excerpt, there is a tense exchange between Mia and Summer's mom so it was fun to get to this point where they have a very heartfelt experience.

* * *

Excerpt:

While he talks, I glance over at Summer who is talking about her siblings with her mother. She is watching me, with a half-smile. Her eyes also look a little glossy, an effect I’m sure her mother has on many members of the Jacobsen family. I flash a quick smile back before returning my attention to her father. 

Summer’s phone chimes from her pocket, stopping the chatter. She pulls it out to read the message. 

“It’s Andy,” she says. “He’s on his way to pick us up.” 

“Well,” her mother says standing up, “that was too quick. I better bring these dishes into the kitchen.” I stand up as well.

“Please, let me help you, Mrs. Jacobsen,” I say picking up glasses and a pitcher. I follow her inside and to the kitchen. “Where should I set these?”

“Just next to the sink, dear,” she answers, “thank you.” She empties her hands of glasses and the water pitcher before turning to take the items from my hands. 

“I should use the restroom before we head out,” I say nervously. She is still intimidating, even if she has warmed up a little. I turn to head to the bathroom, but she places a hand on my arm to stop me.

“Mia, honey,” she says softly. I turn back to face her, she looks concerned. “My daughter has very clearly fallen in love with you.” My eyes widen in shock, what did Summer tell her. “Oh, she didn’t say anything, but you know, I’m her mother dear, I can see it.” Can you see my thoughts too? I don’t know what to say so I just stand there, blinking like an idiot, completely dumbfounded. “I don’t know what has or hasn’t happened between you two. Seeing as you’re married and all. But, please,” she says tucking stray hairs behind my ear. It gives me chills. “Please be gentle with her heart, dear. She hasn’t had the easiest time with love,” she finishes, dropping her hand from my arm. 

I frown at the thought of hurting Summer, but I still cannot speak, my eyes locked on Mrs. Jacobsen’s. I give her a solemn nod and start to turn back toward the restroom, she’s watching me cautiously, I feel her eyes on me. I pause to look back up at her. 

 “Mrs. Jacobsen?” I ask without thinking, emotion welling up inside me now. 

“Please, call me Nancy, dear,” she replies warmly. 

“Nancy,” I whisper, “what should I do?” I ask, already emotionally drained. “I just have no one to talk to about this.” I blurt out. “I have no friends to confide in or seek advice from,” I start to choke back tears. “Summer is incredible. She’s gorgeous. She’s talented. But of course, anyone can see those things. It’s what they can’t see that has me clutching my chest when she’s around me, trying to hold my heart in its place.” I gasp for air before continuing. “She barely knows right from left, and unless she is singing her own songs, she always gets the lyrics wrong. She is kind and compassionate to me, even when I don’t deserve it. She is lanky and her movements are often awkward and clumsy.” I chuckle a little at the thought of her trying to maneuver on the bus, knocking things over, leaving a trail of mess in her wake. I stop, silent, as her face flashes into my mind, “And then those eyes,” I add softly. “The ones she tries so hard to hide from the world. They are her greatest secret and my greatest weakness, it’s all in her eyes.”

Unexpectedly, she steps forward, embracing me tightly. I can hardly believe all those words came out of my mouth and in front of her mother. I haven’t been able to express or nail down my feelings for Summer until this moment. It’s bittersweet, having some clarity, but still not knowing how to handle it. 

“I’m sorry, Mia,” she says trying to comfort me and it looks like she might be holding back some tears as well. “I do not have an answer or good advice to give you.” She pulls back, pity emanating from her eyes. “Matters of the heart are never easy, never quite that simple. Just remember, for me,” she pauses, sighing heavily, “be gentle.” I nod again, willing myself to move. Nancy’s words weighing deeply on my heart.

As we are saying goodbye, I am met with hugs instead of handshakes. I express my gratitude for their hospitality and they both said I was always welcome in their home. But as I watched their property disappear in the streetlights of the passenger side mirror, I come to the somber realization that I might never see this place again. 

* * *

In Her Eyes ©2020 by Marcella Manibusan

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Marcella is the author of lesbian fiction novel, In Her Eyes, and non-fiction novella, The Late Bloom. When not writing, she can be found raising her kids, working full-time or playing co-ed sports. She's also likely in nature, with a camera, enjoying the beauty living in western Washington affords.

AFTER SUMMER ENDS BY KATIE METTNER

Blurb:

My name is Willow Erwin, and I hate summer. My mother always said hate is a strong word, but in this case, it’s the right one. I haven’t found one good thing about the season. Most people tell me since I’m a teacher that reason alone should make it my favorite season, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. For me, summer brings everything I abhor; bugs, heat, sweating, and painful memories of a woman I will never see again.

Then, in the wink of one very beautiful blue eye, all of that changed. This is the story of Summer and how she taught me to love her. It’s about her quiet, and sometimes fearful, way of teaching me to embrace the moment, and to live recklessly. It’s about how both of us learned to forgive, to hope, to pray, and to love, even after summer ends.

Tell us about this scene:

Willow and Summer are at Lake Superior and Summer convinces Willow to go into the water. Summer is worried that because Willow is a teacher, she won't want to date her once summer is over because she's a janitor.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love this scene because Willow and Summer are both openly vulnerable. Willow because she’s a little person and swimming for the first time in Lake Superior. She has to trust Summer to watch out for her and make sure she doesn’t float too far out. Summer is showing her vulnerability about how their relationship is progressing so quickly. She’s worried that this is a summer fling for Willow, who is a teacher in the school where she is a janitor. She’s worried that once school resumes, Willow won’t want anyone to know she’s dating the janitor, so she’ll break up with her. I like the scene because there’s something about Lake Superior in the moonlight that is calming and beautiful, but also you’re never more vulnerable if you’re in her water. Willow, as small as she is, has to show her strength and resolve in the face of nature, and Summer’s doubts, to prove that she’s not going anywhere.

* * *

Excerpt:

“I like you, too,” she whispered. “A lot, but I’m worried about what will happen after summer ends.”

I floated easily in the water and took her other hand in mine, so she had to hold my gaze. 

“What do you mean?” I asked, the wind carrying my question across the night air. I worried that she knew my secret, even though realistically, she couldn’t.

She lay on her back and the waves rippled around her shoulders, her knees breaking the surface of the water every so often. “I mean, what if when you go back to school you don’t want to see me anymore? What if how we’re feeling is simply the magic of summer, and once it’s over you’ll see how totally and utterly different we are.”

I rested my hand on her belly and traced the scar all the way down to the lip of her bikini bottom. “What I’m feeling is the magic of summer, but not the season, the person. I understand how different we are, and I like our differences. I like that you’re smart in ways I’m not. I’ve dated a lot of girls who don’t have half the life experience, or depth to their soul, that you do. You are different, and that’s what I like about you. We complement each other I think, which is the biggest thing I look for in a woman. I don’t want the woman I’m with to be the same as I am; that’s boring. I want her to be different, exciting, beautiful, and at least in my mind, exotic. I want to lie in bed at night and wonder what I’ll learn about her the next day. For me, that’s more important than being alike.”

She was quiet as we floated around in the water. “I’m so not exotic, Willow.”

“Yet I lie in bed at night and think about what you’ll teach me the next day. I’ve even been writing posts on my blog about summer. My readers think I’m talking about the season, but I’m not.”

She floated closer to the sandbar and rested her arms on it, her long legs still floating in the water. “Which is another part I’m worried about. Maybe once you realize my well of knowledge isn’t deep, you’ll move on and be with someone as smart as you are.”

I grabbed her waist and tugged her back toward the sandbar where I could stand up in the water. As soon as I could stand, I pulled her hips to me and wrapped my arms around her. Her skin was chilled and her nipples were taut against my chest. I didn’t talk or answer her questions. I simply held her tightly to me until she relaxed in my arms. With each passing second, she seemed to lose more and more of the tension until she molded into me. 

I kissed her damp chest. “I’m not moving on, Summer. You can try to push me away all you would like, but I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

After Summer Ends ©2015 by Katie Mettner

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Katie Mettner wears the title of 'the only person to lose her leg after falling down the bunny hill' and loves decorating her prosthetic leg to fit the season. She lives in Wisconsin with her own happily-ever-after and spends the day writing romantic stories with her puppy by her side.

Sign up here for Katie Mettner ’s author newsletter.

DUO ACT BY LAINEE ASH

Blurb:

"Performing was a dream come true. My partner was a nightmare."

Sofia has waited her entire life to get to perform in a real circus show. Better yet, she’ll get to create two acts! The only catch? One performance is a duo act.

And her partner is a nightmare.

The blue-haired, tattooed, pierced Phoenix dismisses Sofia the second they meet. What did Sofia do to deserve the cold shoulder? It doesn’t help that Phoenix is ... very freaking hot.

The other catch? Phoenix is non-binary, and ever since him, Sofia has promised herself only women. Dealing with the heat between them while trying to perform a high-level aerial silks act might prove more than either Sofia or Phoenix can manage. Maybe it’s best to just kiss and get over it...

"Duo Act" is a high-heat enemies-to-lovers sports romance with a HEA. Please see inside cover for content warnings in regards to discussions of gender and relationships. This book first appeared in-full on Kindle Vella. It has not been changed significantly since then.

Tell us about this scene:

Sofia and Phoenix are aerialists forced to perform a duo act for a circus show, but they immediately butt heads, despite an instant attraction. In this scene, they are attempting to put aside their differences in order to practice their act.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

One of my favorite things about writing this book was writing the aerial silks scenes. This one not only has lots of fun silks tricks, but also a lot of character tension. It's the best of both worlds. I really wanted their movement in the air to reflect their relationship on the ground, and I think this scene accomplishes that.

* * *

Excerpt:

“OK, this time I’m going to base you,” Sofia said. 

Phoenix muttered something under their breath that Sofia was sure she didn’t want to hear. She climbed the silk, disregarding the little comment. Sofia split the fabric into two strands, then wrapped it around her legs. She turned, spiraling into a sitting position, then kicked her legs wide. The fabric pulled tight, forming an X across her back. She inverted, snug in the wrap she’d created around her legs and back when she hung upside down.

“So,” Sofia said, “I’ll get into this position and you’ll be over me. This is super secure so you can slide down and I can base you from here. Got it?”

“I know what a crossback is,” Phoenix said. 

“Yeah, but you’ve never used it for this. Do you want to try it or not?”

Phoenix muttered. Sofia chose to take that as agreement. She disentangled herself from the silk. Phoenix climbed up above her, high enough that Sofia could be well off the ground as she recreated the crossback wrap. 

“OK, invert and slide down to me,” Sofia said as she hung upside down.

Phoenix inverted smoothly, but hesitated before lowering. 

“It’s OK,” Sofia said. “You’re going to reach me really quickly.”

Phoenix started to slide down the silk, squeezing it between their thighs until they reached Sofia. Then, they were both upside down, the silk forcing them close together. Phoenix’s back pressed against Sofia’s chest, their blue hair in Sofia’s face. Their ass was right on top of Sofia, though she tried not to focus on that. 

“What now?” 

Was that panic Sofia detected in their voice? 

“You, uh, you need to do a bird’s nest to get free of the silk,” Sofia said. “I’ll grab your arms. Like a trapeze duo.”

“I don’t do fucking trapeze.”

“I know, but...” Sofia took a breath. Phoenix definitely had an edge of fear in their voice. Maybe this was a bad idea. Sofia had assumed they were an experienced enough aerialist that these basic moves would be fine, even with the added complication of it being a duo.

Before Sofia could say anything calming, Phoenix pushed up out of the silks. “Now what?”

“Slide down.”

“To fucking where?”

“Just slide down,” Sofia said. This was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sofia was a teacher. What was she doing teaching someone so hastily and poorly? 

Phoenix slid down and Sofia took their wrists. They weren’t that much smaller than Sofia, but they felt so light in her grasp, like all that spiky outward armor hid something fragile and small beneath it. 

“Basket,” Sofia instructed. “And I’ll lower you.”

“You better not drop me.”

Sofia gripped tighter. “I’ve got you.” God, why had she phrased it that way? She hurried on. “You’ll drop a little. Just keep that basket shape.”

She heard Phoenix take a steadying breath. Then, they dropped, trusting Sofia’s hands to catch them. 

Sofia held their wrists. Phoenix gripped her wrists in return, a little too tightly, but Sofia didn’t say anything about it. They hit the basket shape needed for the transition, a compressed shape that put Phoenix’s weight right under Sofia.

Sofia looked down to offer further instruction. Phoenix’s ass was … very close. And very tight from flexing to keep their legs straight and active. And very... 

Sofia shook herself. 

“So we can do a bunch of stuff from here,” Sofia said. “A bunch of simple trapeze type moves.”

“I know,” Phoenix said, but their voice lacked its usual bite. “How about...”

As Sofia watched, they split their legs, one threading behind Sofia, the other in front. And now Sofia was looking down the smooth, lean line of their entire body, with their crotch closest to her face.

Phoenix rolled to one side, scissoring both legs over one of Sofia’s arms. Sofia could feel the heat of their crotch against her arm. Only women, Sofia told herself. I swore after him that it was only women. 

Lord, did that promise ever feel tenuous as Phoenix rolled around in their hands, their body pressing against Sofia in all kinds of wonderful ways. They bent close to Sofia, the muscle in their legs, the heat of their exertion, the puff of their breaths all brushing over Sofia’s bare arms. Sofia caught the scent of Phoenix’s deodorant, as well as something deeper just beneath, the smell that was purely Phoenix. Every curve and line of their body put on a display as Phoenix moved around Sofia, gripping her wrists as they did. 

Sofia just hung there, reminding herself to breathe, and held them, let them play while her mind screamed with competing desires. 

* * *

Duo Act ©2022 by Lainee Ash

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Lainee Ash writes sapphic romance books with a special emphasis on lesbian, bisexual and nonbinary romance leads. They especially enjoy sports romance that focuses on lesser known sports like competitive climbing and aerial acrobatics.

You can connect with them on twitter at @laineeashwrites.

Sign up here for Lainee Ash ’s author newsletter.

LOUDER THAN WORDS BY LISA ELLIOT

Blurb:

Kelly MacGregor is the CEO of an internationally renowned whisky distillery in her hometown in the Scottish Highlands. But she’s unsettled and has let her adventurous side take a back seat. When she meets a younger woman at a gig, she can’t help but be drawn to her, and when this young woman turns out to be the new owner of her whisky distillery, Kelly is put in a compromising situation.

Myla Murray wanted to be a musician but has settled for working in a café. Life is fine. Expressive and introverted, she longs for something more but doesn’t believe she will ever get it. She’s on her own and has no family, so when she inherits a Scottish estate and whisky distillery from a great-aunt she knew nothing about, her world is turned upside down.

When Myla travels to the Highlands to explore her roots and come to terms with her past, she meets the hot older woman from the gig who set her pulse racing. Myla wants to continue what they started. But Kelly is more concerned about the future of the distillery and Myla’s role in it and just wants to be friends.

Tell us about this scene:

Myla is getting acquainted with the whisky distillery that she inherited. She is already acquainted with Kelly, the woman who runs it.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene has a special place in my heart and I loved writing it! It captures the connection between the two main characters, Myla and Kelly, and it felt very natural to write.

Myla, who is younger and also Kelly’s boss now after inheriting the distillery, finds herself in this new world in the Scottish Highlands. It’s sweet how Kelly is trying to include her and help her feel involved in the distillery. Kelly is torn, but she can’t resist Myla.

It comes at a point in the book where everything is changing, yet they still keep coming back to each other. They’re not supposed to be falling in love but they can’t help it. It speaks to Myla’s character growth where she is learning to be more confident, and I thought it was a fun play on power dynamics.

When I wrote it, I knew that they were going to have a tough time after this before they would resolve their issues both individually and together, so it was nice to have a little fun before some of the heavier scenes later in the book.

* * *

Excerpt:

Kelly’s eyes crinkled kindly as she smiled with her lips firmly closed. “That’s okay. I tell you what. I’ll set up a meeting with Georgia and she can talk you through each of our departments. Then, once you know a bit more you can let me know if anything interests you. Apart from propping up the bar, which you’re more than welcome to do by the way, it might be that you want to know more about a specific area such as marketing or part of the whisky making process itself or even the bottling. Whatever it is, I want you to feel like you are involved and that you’re part of the Glenbuinidh family. Because you are.”

A lump formed in my throat and I gulped. I wanted to ponder this more but she was staring at me, so I couldn’t dwell on her words any longer. I sat up straight and faced Kelly directly. “You know I really did like the bar. I’d love another visit and to meet Anna again, she seemed cool.”

Kelly laughed. “Okay. Speak your truth. I love it. I just want you to get something out of this, too.”

I smiled. I was already getting so much out of this experience and was intrigued to see what it was that I could offer Glenbuinidh, if anything. My life had completely changed, and I was loving every second of it. Not even my predisposition for melancholy could compete these days.

“You just need to tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.” Her voice was smooth and sexy and had gone done a notch.

Kelly was still trying to be polite and professional, but my head was now in the gutter. She was so warm and kind, and just so fucking… hot. I still had a hard time concentrating on much of what she was saying. My eyes raked over her toned and slender body, wishing I could run my hands through her hair again and explore her body at will.

“There is something else I want.”

“Yeah, sure. Anything. What is it?”

I paused. “To kiss you.”

Kelly blinked in disbelief, it seemed. Our eyes locked. Even I could hardly believe those words had slipped out of my mouth. Kelly did approve of me speaking my truth, and we were fucking. I would never have been so forward during the day like this normally but from the passion Kelly had shown the two times we’d slept together, and in that gloriously epic first kiss in the club, it was hard not to keep growing in confidence. I think she liked it when I was bold like this. I did too.

She walked to the door and gently locked it. She crossed the room, closed the blinds, and then leaned against the wall. My heart started pounding. She tucked her hands behind her back and rested on them. “Come over here,” she said, eyes fixed on me and dark.

The kiss started slow, barely registering on each other’s lips as our noses danced for a moment. With her hands still tucked behind her back, I was free to touch her, and I think she wanted this. She was inviting this. I traced my fingertips across her cheek and then into her hair, feeling like that was such an intimate move, but what the hell, we were doing this. I deepened the kiss, confidently taking it in the direction I wanted. I leant down and kissed her softly on the neck. Tracing kisses on each side until I ran into blouse.

Kelly’s throat tightened. “Is there anything else that you want?”

My heart still pounded. She was letting me live out some sort of fantasy here. “This.” I started unbuttoning her blouse, unable to hold her gaze for long. With trembling fingers I carefully dealt with the buttons, determined not to give into the nerves or ruin her nice top. When no objection came, I tugged the fabric up and out of her skirt. Her eyes were trained on me the entire time, encouraging me to go on. I put my hands inside her blouse and touched her sides, then travelled upwards towards her shoulders before she brought her hands from behind her back and let me slip her blouse off. Standing there in her lacey white bra Kelly looked like a dream. I couldn’t believe she was letting this happen, and in her office. 

She tucked her hands behind her back again, leaning onto the wall. Her nonchalance was so hot.

“Is that all?”

I swallowed, kicking into gear as desire mixed with something fuller took root in me. I stepped right into her space, so that our bodies were touching, and her breasts pressed into mine.

“No. Not by far.”

* * *

Louder Than Words ©2022 by Lisa Elliot

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Lisa Elliot is a sapphic romance author based in Scotland. She lives for coffee and cake and long walks in the hills with her wife and her dog.

Sign up here for Lisa Elliot ’s author newsletter.

SOMETHING ABOUT YOU (PART OF THE LONELY HEARTS RESCUE ANTHOLOGY) BY MORGAN LEE MILLER

Blurb:

When a hurricane hits the Gulf Coast, the animals at the Lonely Hearts Rescue Shelter need love, and so do the humans who adopt them.

Something About You by Morgan Lee Miller. After rescuing a cat stranded in the hurricane, animal control officer Reese Shepard is adamant about finding shy, timid Apollo the best forever home. When she discovers Apollo giving cheek rubs to Hannah Marsh, Reese’s high school crush, she’s captivated by her all over again.

Tell us about this scene:

After crushing on Hannah Marsh all throughout high school, Reese Shepard reunites with her fourteen years later when Hannah adopts Reese's foster cat, Apollo. When Hannah invites Reese over to catch up and check in with Apollo, Reese finally musters the courage to confess to Hannah about her high school crush.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I'm a sucker for the moment in a romance when a character finally lowers their guard and admits their feelings. I love the vulnerability these moments showcase. I loved writing this scene between Reese and Hannah, where Reese has the opportunity to tell Hannah about her massive high school crush years later. Hannah has recently come out as bi and struggling with her confidence as she tries to put herself out there in the dating world, and here comes Reese, admitting that she had a big crush on her all throughout high school. Hannah is shocked...and extremely flattered. Reese is relieved that her feelings are finally out there. The magic of high school crushes (and first girl crushes, in Hannah's case) saturates this scene. There's also a little bit of innocence that filters through, and I had so much fun writing this scene. Plus, who doesn't like hearing someone had a crush on them for X amount of years?

* * *

Excerpt:

 “I had the biggest crush on you in high school,” Reese said.

Hannah’s jaw dropped. The fluttering she’d first felt when Reese had stepped through her door a bit ago resurrected in her gut in a butterfly display of epic proportions. “You...you had a crush on me?” 

“I did. I thought you were cool and pretty.” 

A hot blush slammed onto Hannah’s face as hard as Reese’s confession hit her. She knew just how colorful it must have been because it pulled a wider smile from Reese that she hid behind her wineglass. Hannah never thought she would be jealous of a glass until Reese’s lips pressed against it. 

She was someone’s big high school crush? That was a bold label. By how Reese tripped over her words and the blush that darkened with each word she spoke, Hannah wondered if their reunion had revived it.  

““I...I had no idea,” Hannah said, shaking her head. “How long was this crush? Because this is huge news for me.” 

“The whole time. All three years.” 

The honesty and certainty undid Hannah. The girl she’d been innocently crushing on for the last week had been massively crushing on her in high school? It unlocked so many feelings that she hadn’t known she had. Reese was beautiful, hot, and sexy. She was reserved, still a bit quiet, though she’d seem to have grown out of her shell since high school. But Reese possessed a type of confidence Hannah wished she had, when the smallest amount was alluring and sexy. 

“I’m really flattered,” Hannah said and pushed past the tugging inside. “If I would have known all this back then, I think that would have helped a lot of my insecurities.” 

“Insecurities? What insecurities?”

“You know, just normal high school stuff. High school was a weird time. You defined yourself based on friendships and relationships, and back then, I had watched all my friends go through relationships. And then my senior year, I was the only one of my friends to go to homecoming with no date. I’d been the third wheel before, which was fine once or twice, but being the eleventh wheel at homecoming? It was, like, the worst feeling in the world. I kind of thought I was very unnoticeable back then.”

 “I remember that homecoming,” Reese said. “I specifically remember during one of the slow songs, my friends and I walked off the dance floor, and I had this urge to find what you were doing. I saw you by the beverage stand. I think you were watching everyone else dance, but I was watching you. It was the first time I’d ever seen you in a dress, and you were, well...” She let out a long exhale. “You were very noticeable that night...to me, at least. Always had been. Still are, for the record.” 

Hannah blinked several times as she tried to process all the words. Was it just her imagining things, or was there heavy tension vibrating between them? Something primal sprang inside her. She looked at Reese’s lips, scanned every inch of them, and tamed the ravenous reaction bubbling behind her chest. She wanted to throw herself on Reese and kiss her senseless but wanted to hear more of what she had to say. None of this was what she’d expected when she’d invited Reese over, and here she was, sipping wine and reeling from Reese’s high school emotions and feeling so affected. 

“It should also help your insecurities that Apollo chose you out of all the people who attempted to meet him,” Reese said, looking at Apollo, who was zonked out on his back, body twisted like a C, white beard toward the ceiling, and his paws dangling in front of him. “Obviously, there’s something about you that’s alluring to many.” 

When it was time for Reese to head out, she showered Apollo with so many kisses, he finally woke from his deep sleep and hopped off the couch to follow them to the front door. 

“Thank you for inviting me over,” Reese said. “I’m so glad Apollo’s settling in and already claiming the blanket and couch as his. Anyway, good night, Hannah. Thanks again for the wine and company.” She gave a small wave and stepped off the patio to the path that led to the driveway. 

All of her words and compliments tumbled in Hannah’s mind like a pile of bricks. No, she couldn’t let the air around them surge all night with pockets of palpable tension just for her doubts and insecurities to douse the wonderful sparks. The night couldn’t end with something as simple and innocent as a wave. Not when she’d felt anything but for the last two and a half hours. “Hey, Reese?” 

She turned. “Yeah?” 

Hannah walked down the steps and sucked in an encouraging breath of September air before she palmed Reese’s face and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, thanking her for everything she’d said and letting her know she was more than just flattered, that she’d felt it too. Hannah’s stomach pleasantly swirled when she felt the lips she’d been admiring all night latch on to hers. As she felt Reese melting into her palms, she pulled away and steadied herself and her wobbly knees. Her lips buzzed against the cool air, wet from Reese’s soft, wonderful kiss. She opened her eyes and noticed that Reese’s eyes were still closed, as if she was savoring the kiss Hannah hoped that she’d thought about countless times before. Thinking that sent a jolt to her center. 

“What...what was that for?” Reese said hoarsely when her eyes opened. 

“I wanted you to know what it was like to kiss your high school crush... and to remind you that you shouldn’t ever assume someone is straight just because they dated a boy for two months in high school.” Hannah winked, and Reese’s shocked expression helped the confidence straighten Hannah’s back. “Good night, Reese.” 

* * *

Something About You (Part of The Lonely Hearts Rescue anthology) ©2022 by Morgan Lee Miller

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

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* * *

About the Author:

Morgan Lee Miller started writing at the age of five in the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio, where she entertained herself by composing her first few novels all by hand. She has six novels out with Bold Strokes Books and is currently procrastinating on her seventh book.

THE LAST CONCEPTION BY GABRIEL CONSTANS

Blurb:

Passionate embryologist, Savarna, is in a complicated relationship, with two different women, when she is told that she MUST have a baby. Her conservative East Indian American parents are desperate for her to conceive, in spite of her "not being married". They insist that she is the last in line of a great spiritual lineage. In the process of choosing her lover and having doubts about her ability, or desire to conceive, Savarna begins to question the necessity of biology and lineage within her parents' beliefs and becomes forever fascinated with the process of conception and the definition of family. Threads of Dan Brown (DaVinci Code), Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni (Sister of My Heart) and The L Word (TV series) flavor this colorful tale of awakening, romance and mystery.

Tell us about this scene:

Savarna's father has asked her to come to his Indian market to talk about something "important". She's in his grungy office on the second floor. He reaffirms what her mother told her previously, that she HAS to have baby and they don't care anymore if she's married or not. She is shocked, because they've always been trying to set her up with Indian men to get married, and she's never told them she's gay.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is my favorite, because it heightens the tension in trying to figure out why Savarna's parents' insist she have a baby, and forces her to come out. It also shows a loving father who supports her when he hears, and makes it clear how close the family all are and how they care about one another. It also leaves readers' wondering what Savarna will do about the added pressure to conceive, and challenges her to look closely at which of her girlfriends she feels is the "right" one.

* * *

Excerpt:

“In a way, it does have to do with your grandmother and with her parents and their parents and your great-great-great grandparents. One generation after another has continued our traditions and carried on our heritage. You are our last hope. It hasn’t been easy for us to see you remain single for such a long time, and you know your mother has been determined to find you a husband. It’s not just because we want you to be happy, but so you could also have children. But now… we finally realized that for whatever reason, you may not ever get married, and it is vital that you carry on our lineage and have a child.” He leaned forward. “Of course, we’d still prefer you get married and hope you will soon, but time is running out.”

“Dad, I’m only thirty-four, so I’ve got another five or six years before it can get more complicated, and I’m not sure if I ever want to bring another child into this world, especially all by myself. I’ve seen a lot of single parents, and it is by far the most difficult thing to ever do, to raise a child by yourself, even if you have family around to help. I’m not in a committed relationship right now--at least not from my perspective and--”

“Yes, yes. I understand. That’s why we think you should go ahead and get pregnant. We will provide everything you need and hire someone to help out while you’re at work. If anybody knows how to make a baby, surely it is you.”

“Of course I know how, but it changes everything in your life. Nothing is ever the same. Even if I had someone twenty-four hours a day to help, I’d still be thinking about them and worrying about them all the time. And if I and I mean I--not you, Mom, Grandmother or anyone else--ever decide to have a child, I don’t want it being raised by other people. That would be my job and joy.”

“However you want to do it would be fine with us, but please consider it carefully. As you said, it does affect everything, and your child will affect more than you’ll ever know. As far as being in a relationship… there is no problem. It’s just a matter of time until some guy sees the precious diamond that you are and sweeps you and your baby off your feet.”

“Dad--” The phone rang again and her father quickly picked it up, lifting his finger up to Savarna, signaling her to hold on just a minute.

“Yes, Mr. Bennelli. The escrow on that site is supposed to close in about two more weeks. We’ll be moving in within a month and are very excited to have your support.” Mr. Sikand smiled at Savarna. “No, we will not put up any large signs that would interfere with your business,” he said, shaking his head slightly side to side. “I’m glad you approve. Can we meet next week? Good. Good. I’ll call you soon. Goodbye.”

Mr. Sikand hung up. “Sorry. You were saying?”

The phone rang again. Davidia raised his shoulders and hands, implying he had no choice; he had to answer it again. He placed his hand on the receiver to pick it up, but Savarna placed her hand on his and stopped him.

“No. Not now,” she said. “I’m gay. I’ll never marry a ‘nice man’ and have no interest in doing so. I like women and always have. It has nothing to do with you or Mom or anything you’ve done or not done. I’ve been afraid to tell you for years. I wasn’t sure what you’d say or do. I still don’t know why I haven’t told you before. I always figured you knew, but apparently I figured wrong. So, there it is. Out in the open.” She spread her arms outwards and sat back to wait for the onslaught of anger, judgment and rejection. It never came.

“Well,” her father said, after a long pause. “That will complicate things.”

“That’s all?”

“No,” he said quickly and took her hand in his. “I’m really glad you told me, but you have to give me a moment. I really had no idea. I just thought you were stubborn and waiting for Mr. Right.”

“Dad, you’re the only Mr. Right in my life.”

Mr. Sikand blinked and wiped a tear away with the sleeve of his permanent-pressed white dress shirt.

“Let’s take this slowly. Let me tell your mother, OK?”

“Please do. It’s been exhausting keeping this from you. I’m sorry it took me so long. I don’t know what I was afraid of.”

“Better late than never, as they say.”

“I don’t know about that, Dad. With some things, never is the best.”

“As far as what we were talking about before, ‘never’ is out of the question. I’m not saying anything else right now. Just think about it, and I’ll let your little news flash sink in.” He grinned with his attempt at making a joke.

“You’ve got it, Babba.”

“Don’t ‘Babba’ me, my little Savarna-ji.”

They rose, went around the side of the desk and embraced. Her father walked her to the door. A father’s love cut through the dingy office and pervaded his first-born daughter’s heart. A smile lit up her face, as she turned and left.

Mr. Sikand went back to his desk, picked up the phone and dialed.

“Mira, it’s going to be harder than we ever dreamed, but there’s still hope.”

* * *

The Last Conception ©2014 by Gabriel Constans

Published by Melange Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Melange Books

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* * *

About the Author:

Gabriel is an author, journalist, screenwriter and trauma counselor. Their fiction includes Buddha's Wife, Saint Catherine's Baby, Rwandan Folk Tales and the film The Last Conception.

SARAH BY MORGAN ROUTH

Blurb:

A sweet, part-time zookeeper named Sarah is learning to grow up. Between juggling community college and living by herself for the first time, she spends afternoons apprenticing under her best friend, an asexual lion tamer named Buddy while they take care of a giant, loveable, 400lb lion named Bandit.

She meets Toni, a gorgeous and intense young woman. Sarah is whisked into her chaotic world of decadent wealth, underground parties, and mysterious games. Each date presses Sarah's introverted limits - plunging Sarah into feelings of both pain and passion that she never dreamed.

This is a journey novel that follows a demisexual girl through her first true romance and all of the confusion that comes with it. Most importantly, Sarah grows stronger and overcomes anxiety without throwing away her core introverted self. She explores her newly discovered sexuality with an ultra-beautiful woman who may or may not know how to love her back.

Tell us about this scene:

Toni often pushes Sarah to her extremes, not only forcing her out of her shell but into feelings of passion and, in some cases, fear. Their date to the industrial techno club, The Threshold, explores both.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

The novel Sarah is a coming of age story told through the lens of an earnest, shy, young woman. Through the spark of her connection to Toni, the audience begins to feel what it is like to love someone that wears masks. Toni is a master of disguise, both emotionally and literally. Often she reveals herself most freely when she acts least like herself. In this case, The Threshold nightclub date is where Toni transforms herself physically, taking on the likeness and demeanor of a vampire. As the chapter goes on (just after this excerpt), she confesses her love for Sarah, unbeknownst to Sarah.

I love the ambiance and gothic/romantic aire of the scene, and it's so close to the climax of the book that Toni and Sarah's attraction for each other is palpable. Toni never stops surprising Sarah with how dark she can take Sarah into their passion.

* * *

Excerpt:

A section of the plush wall buzzed, and Toni pulled it open to reveal a spiral staircase.

Sarah hitched her dress up and carefully descended the many short steps. It was a tight space, and Sarah had a difficult time seeing. 

The only illumination came from the art on the walls – x-rays of skeletons with intricate jewelry, piercings, studded jackets, and heeled boots. There were skeletons grabbing their heads, their bodies, each other. She continued to descend, getting the feeling they were going deep underground.

“This was once a place where an ancient secret society used to meet, in the original city. Now the city’s most powerful convene in the open, dazzling their wealth and supremacy in the sunlight, which left their old abode to us night dwellers.”

Toni’s voice reverberated off the stone walls.

Upon reaching the bottom, the silence gave way to an unsettling commotion. They faced a long hallway with black marble floors and a cave-like ceiling and walls. 

Toni secured a grip around Sarah’s wrist as they met the door. Sarah began to realize the commotion was rhythmed; it was too metallic though, like the mechanized clank of a dozen factories. 

She could not imagine what she heard was music. 

Not until Toni pushed hard on the stone door. 

Then a torrent of sound punched Sarah, mentally knocking the wind out of her. Toni yanked her forward, into the black smoke.

She was plunged into a colorless nightmare; black and white strobes flashed. The music was fast, heavy, and voiced by guttural hate, screeches and wails drawn from deep within. 

Then suddenly, the smoke was gone, only obscuring her feet, and droves of people were walling her in from every direction, every place she could see. Toni yanked her deeper inside a mob of dancers. 

These people looked and moved unlike anyone Sarah had ever seen. 

All wore black or heavy dark leather. They were much older than Sarah and either over muscular or emaciated. Their menacing faces glared down at her. 

She was the only one with color, the elegant red bumping against the motorcycle gear, punk bodysuits, and gas masks. They would wind-up and snap while rolling their arms at their wrists and elbows, like cogs performing deeply embedded tasks inside a larger functioning mechanism. 

Many of them moved in sequenced patterns. Each jerk acknowledged the hard beats of the music. The motions were fast, fluidly exchanging between upright poses and sharp angles. 

She would have been sucked into the strange, inorganic mob, but the distant force clutching her arm dragged her blindingly fast through them. 

Her feet tripped and stumbled through the grates on the floor, the holes frequently catching her heels. 

The constant fear that she’d lose them and her feet would be trampled in the smoke weighed hard on her. The air was thick to breathe, a colder, sweaty taste, and the speed that she was sprinting through the crowd made her breaths short like gasps. 

Sarah smacked into a wall of a man. 

When she bounced off his barrel chest, she was face to face with the leather harness strapped to his bare skin. He exhaled with a freaky glare, and when she looked down she caught sight of his massive studded codpiece. 

She was dragged away again by the force digging into her arm. She couldn’t see Toni; in the dim illumination she blended so well, her body only lighting in flashes. 

Sarah was the only one drawing attention to herself. She was the true freak in the room.

They passed back into a cloud of smoke and entered a wooden staircase. People leaned at every corner and crevice, making out, stroking each other, deeply involved in close conversation. Many of them halted to stare at Sarah. 

Sarah couldn’t look away from all of them, hide from their evident shock and distaste for her. When she glanced over the railing, she realized that any face that she had passed had continued to watch her. They had watched her climb the stairs, meeting her eyes now. 

Toni…

Her voice wouldn’t be a match to the grinding music.

She couldn’t say anything.

The second floor was a long balcony that hung over the dancers below. Sarah looked up at the high arched ceiling above, and through the strobes she could just make out the remnants of a faded but elaborate painting.

She was pulled away from the rails where deeper inside, yellow lanterns lit a row of plush booths. 

A bar divided the row, where a dreadlocked goth spun drinks for the constant flow of patrons.

For the first time, Toni slowed. 

She gestured to the bartender and received a bottle of expensive vodka and two ornate glasses.

Toni spun back around, still holding onto Sarah. Sarah was transfixed on those shadowed eyes again, unable to look away from glowing red of her irises. 

Toni began to circle around Sarah.

She stepped too close into her space and Sarah took an involuntary step back, unable to break the unblinking fixation. 

Toni took another, and another, commanding the direction where Sarah stumbled backwards until she tripped and fell. Sarah gasped, bracing for the hard collision, but instead landed on the plush cushion of a booth. Sarah was winded, and stared up with awe.

They settled together in the middle of the booth and sipped tall glasses of alcohol. Sarah was held with possessive tightness against Toni’s hourglass shape. 

The industrious clank of rhythmed metal was more distant, ambient beneath the low, seductive tones she heard from Toni.

“There’s sulphur in this music. An honesty with that shadow and grime. When I listen to it, I hear men stripped of their flesh and sensitivity. I hear evil. It reminds me of my own nature.”

Why did you bring me here? Sarah wanted to shout.

* * *

Sarah ©2018 by Morgan Routh

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Morgan Routh is the bestselling author of the Dorm Life Series, the Love By the Shore Series, and the Present Intimacy Series.

If you are new to Morgan's writings, check out Dorm Life, Dorm Love on Kindle Unlimited.

Sign up here for Morgan Routh ’s author newsletter.

AN ALASKAN WEDDING BY NANCE SPARKS

Blurb:

Andrea Daniels’s life is overflowingly full. She puts every ounce of energy she has into being a mom to her two daughters and her work as a registered nurse. When her best friend, Sara, asks her to be her maid of honor at her wedding in Fairbanks, Alaska, Andrea accepts. A week off from work and an adults-only trip filled with relaxation and scenic tours sounds amazing.

Wedding photographer Riley Canon can pick and choose her clients, so when she’s asked to shoot a wedding in a remote lodge in Alaska, she jumps at the opportunity for a trip of a lifetime. It’s been on her bucket list for years.

The last thing either Andrea or Riley expects is to bump into the one who broke her heart fifteen years ago, but when they meet at the welcome party, their feelings come rushing back. Trusting each other again might be impossible, but if they can overcome the hurt from the past, they just might get a second chance at love.

Tell us about this scene:

The photographer, Riley Canon, is in Alaska shooting a welcome party for an upcoming wedding when she hears a voice that's had her heart for as long as she has memories. This is the moment of that discovery and their first reunion as adults.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

As I'm sure is the case with almost all authors, it was difficult to pick just one scene, but this one has always been near and dear to my heart. This scene is more than simply the meet cute for ‘An Alaskan Wedding.’ It set the stage for the deep connection these two women held in their hearts for more than fifteen years. So many people have that one lost love. Imagine the overwhelming emotions of seeing that person again, unexpectedly, and out of the blue. The excitement, the rekindled desire, and the tug on the heart strings that makes a person weak in the knees and all gooey inside. Add to that, the romance in the air surrounding a wedding. These were the emotions I hoped to convey when I wrote this scene. I love what Riley sees through the lens of the camera. Her attraction to Andrea is still unbelievably powerful after so many years. Likewise, I had fun describing Andrea’s reaction when she recognizes Riley. The way her eyes light up and her smile broadens. It’s the ultimate reunion moment and sets the stage for a fun loving second chance romance.

* * *

Excerpt:

Riley made her way around the room catching candid shots of those playing games or guests simply sitting at tables lost in deep discussion. 

Then, she picked up on a voice, a laugh, that she recognized from a lifetime ago. 

Wide eyed, she found herself completely frozen in her tracks. Goose bumps erupted on her arms and the hair prickled up on the back of her neck. She knew that voice, without a doubt she knew that voice. The sound of that laugh used to melt her heart. It had been so long since she’d seen her. Riley heard it again but was pulled away by the arrival of the brides to the welcome party. Her heart thumped with the possibility, nevertheless she forced herself to focus on the job. Once the brides had made their entrance into the event space and posed for a few shots, Riley faded back into the crowd determined to find the one person who had broken her heart. 

Her camera allowed her to approach every small group that came along, each person was eager to halt any conversation and pose for a picture. She’d covered most of the room when she finally spotted her. 

Riley could hardly believe her eyes. It was her. It was really her. Somehow, she was here in Alaska and standing less than twenty feet away. Riley stood there staring, unable to move. Andrea turned away from the bar, slowly lowering a rocks glass from her lips. She was wearing a sexy black cocktail dress that hugged her curvy figure perfectly. Elegant, sensual, graceful, beautiful, Riley couldn’t pick a word because Andrea was all of them and so much more. She raised her camera and captured a shot of her raw beauty. Andrea gradually scanned the crowd. Riley kept shooting. As Andrea’s gaze approached, Riley lowered the camera, glanced at the display screen, and then continued to shoot. 

Their eyes met briefly, and Riley held the shutter button and continued to shoot. She offered Andrea her trademark half smile and a slight nod before Andrea’s eyes scanned beyond her. Just as quickly, her focus snapped right back, as though suddenly understanding who she’d just seen. Andrea cocked her head slightly to the side; her expression was one of shock and bewilderment. Her free hand covered her mouth, and her eyes grew wide. 

Riley quickly raised the camera and captured that moment of recognition. The way her eyes lit up with surprise and then the true treat of seeing those deep dimples appear with that broad smile made Riley’s heart race. It was a smile that could capture anyone’s attention and one she’d seen in her dreams over the years. She felt everything, every emotion that Andrea was expressing and more. She took three more shots of absolute beauty. These wouldn’t be shared with her clients. They’d be for her alone. When she lowered the camera, Andrea was closing the distance between them. Her astonishment was almost completely concealed by that same flirtatious smirk from years gone by.

“Riley Canon? Oh, please tell me it’s you. Is it really you?” Andrea asked. 

Riley smiled and nodded. It was all the encouragement that Andrea needed to brush Riley’s cheek with her fingertips. The tender touch sent an electrical current to every cell in her body. She drew in a sharp breath to steady her heart rate.

“Andrea Haney, my sweet Andi, it’s so good to see you.” Riley stepped forward and before she could fully extend her arms Andrea stepped into her embrace. It felt incredible to hold her again. Riley inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of Andrea’s perfume. It was a new scent, different than what she wore years ago, still it was lovely, completely intoxicating yet not overpowering. It suited her perfectly. Riley inhaled again, hoping to remember every detail of this moment. She savored how amazing it felt to hold her again after all these years. It was pure electricity. Andrea must have felt it too since she shivered in the embrace. Eventually and way too soon, Andrea stepped back but left her free hand resting on Riley’s shoulder. The touch continued the powerful connection. 

“Andi, you’re still absolutely beautiful. How have you been? How do you know the brides?” 

“How I’ve missed you calling me Andi. No one else calls me that.” Andrea smiled. “I’m friends with Sara. I’m her maid of honor. Kay, the other bride, grew up here in Fairbanks and her family begged them to get married out here. I’d ask you the same question, but that camera gives away your secret.” She paused and looked Riley up and down. “I can’t believe you’re standing here in front of me. What a small world! You’re rocking that suit.”

“Thank you.” Riley felt the color rushing to her cheeks. “I try to blend in.”

“Well, I’m sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but you’re not blending. You totally caught my eye. Damn you look good. Are you a world-famous photographer now?” Andrea asked.

“I don’t know about the famous part, but I still love it and it earns me a good living. I’m done around nine tonight. Could I come find you? Maybe we could grab a drink and catch up?”

“I’d like that,” Andrea said, her eyes warm and tender.

“Wonderful! I’ll find you when I’m finished.” Riley instinctively went to step forward for a kiss and caught herself. She cupped Andrea’s cheek in her hand, caressing her skin with her thumb. “I know I should go, but I really don’t want to walk away.”

“I don’t want you to walk away either,” Andrea said.

Riley smiled and forced herself to turn away. She worked her way around the room trying desperately to calm her racing heart and focus on the job at hand, but knowing Andi was in the room made it extremely difficult. It had been so long, and life had moved on, but seeing her again brought everything flooding back.

* * *

An Alaskan Wedding ©2021 by Nance Sparks

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Nance Sparks is a Goldie Award winning author of lesbian romance. She lives in south central Wisconsin with her spouse. Her passion for photography, homesteading, hiking, gardening, and most anything outdoors comes through in her stories.

Sign up here for Nance Sparks ’s author newsletter.

THE PLAYLIST BY NAT CHRISTO

Blurb:

Gina Vergotti, a new teacher with an old soul, is reeling after the suicide of Lily, a friend and mentor… who was also her gay awakening.

Charismatic, young-at-heart rock musician, Cori Ryder, is also floundering after Lily’s death, since she was her roommate and needs to find a new place to crash stat.

In the aftermath of the tragedy, Gina and Cori move in together. Soon after, they embark on a road trip from New York to Nevada to return Lily’s belongings to her family… and to gain some insight into the mysterious playlist that Lily made for Gina before she died. Though their new connection deepens, it’s obvious that both of them have a lot of growing up to do. The trip leaves them forever changed, but do their respective “forevers” include each other?

This story of loss, love, music, maturation, romance, and redemption unfolds over a span of more than four years, in settings as diverse as New York City, Nevada, Washington State, and places in between. Join the journey of Gina and Cori as they find themselves and each other across time and spaces. And yes, The Playlist includes the actual playlist, the song titles listed as the names of the chapters.

Tell us about this scene:

At this stage of the book, Gina is cautiously reconnecting with Cori after a long fall-out. In this scene, jealousies and old hurts spill over as they dance in a club, causing all types of friction.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene was so challenging to write for a couple of reasons. First of all, there are a ton of emotions going on all at the same time and both of the characters are playing a game with the other. Cori is jealous after watching Gina dance with a stranger and intentionally finds a way to distract the stranger in order to get Gina alone. But Gina is not naïve; she knew exactly what she was doing when she was dancing with the sexy stranger and exactly what Cori was up to. As they finally dance alone together, I had to convey the jealousy, the competition, their intense long-standing chemistry, and eventually the deep hurt between the two of them that they had not yet fully addressed up to this point of the story. It was exciting to find ways to express all this through their dialogue and body language.

Speaking of body language, this scene was also one of the most challenging to stage from a physical standpoint (other than sex scenes!). Their hands alone are doing a lot of talking: the tugging, grabbing, tickling; all of it expressing the range of feelings they are sorting through in this moment. I am most proud of the way that I wrote the aggressive lead changing that happens during this tightrope dance of theirs.

I hope that this scene whets your appetite for more of Gina and Cori's story!

* * *

Excerpt:

Cori watched hungrily as Gina bit her lower lip and closed her eyes, as she had when dancing with the blonde. But Cori wanted much more from Gina than that look. Let’s see how far I can push my luck, Cori thought. She pressed the side of her face against the side of Gina’s so she could say into her ear, “Am I a better dancer than she was?”

Gina jerked her head back to look Cori in the eyes. She drew her eyebrows together before, realizing who Cori was referring to, tilting her head to the side. A crooked grin slid over her face. She gave a silent laugh and let her head rest against the side of Cori’s again. “Cori Ryder, have you been thinking about another woman while you’ve been dancing with me?”

Cori smiled against her face. “I suppose I was,” she murmured.

Gina let out a single chuckle. “Hmmmm, and why has this other woman been weighing so heavily on your mind?” She lightly tugged a lock of Cori’s hair that was wrapped around her finger. Oh, yes. The hair-tugging was a good sign for Cori.

“’Cause I have eyes. I saw the way she looked at you. And the way you looked at her.”

“Oh, did you? And did that bother you?” Gina whispered dangerously into her ear.

An icy shock zipped from Cori’s stomach to the juncture of her thighs at the tone of Gina’s voice and the proximity of her breath. “Yeah,” she croaked, and then tickled her finger tips a little further down Gina’s back and closed the space between their hips. She could feel Gina’s body heat radiating through her jeans.

Gina laughed quietly, salaciously. She taunted, “Bothered you so much that you found some way to make her leave so suddenly, right?”

Cori traced a single finger up Gina’s side, empowered by the shiver she felt underneath her top as she did so. “Well, she had something I wanted,” Cori said against the shell of Gina’s ear.

Gina tsked. “Corinne Love Ryder, you sound jealous,” she teased as she dug the nails of her right hand into the skin on the back of Cori’s neck. Cori sucked in a breath and clenched her eyes shut at the piercing contact. She was more than pleasantly surprised. In their past, Gina had never done anything intentionally rough with her, and Cori had never asked her to, given Gina’s limited sexual experience at the time.

“Of course I’m fucking jealous,” Cori muttered against Gina’s face.

“Well, admitting you have a problem is the first step,” Gina whispered, as she used one of her hands to cradle the side of Cori’s face.

“What’s the second step?”

“I think you know,” Gina breathed. She used her thumb to stroke Cori’s cheek, gently at first, but then slowly turned her thumb so that her nail sharply grazed the delicate flesh.

“Show me,” Cori said roughly. “Show me what the next step is.”

Before Cori could say anything further, Gina spun them around and was walking Cori backward until her back was pressed against the wood paneling. Gina still had one hand wrapped around the back of her neck, and now her other palm was firmly planted against Cori’s sternum to keep her in place, their faces were centimeters apart. Gina was wearing an expression that Cori had rarely seen on her and certainly never during their moments of physical intimacy: indignation. Gina glowered up at her, her face attractively flushed. Visions of dragging Gina into the bathroom and getting down on her knees to beg for her played in Cori’s mind’s eye. Cori’s eyes unfocused and she closed her eyelids, the haze of alcohol, lust, and jealously temporarily crushing her.

She heard Gina’s low, guttural voice demand, “Open your eyes and look at me.” Cori complied and beheld the pair of seductive, arched eyebrows and flickering black eyes boring into her. “You know you don’t have a goddamn right to be jealous, don’t you?” Gina snarled. Cori licked her lips and nodded. “Good. As long as you know that.”

All at once, Gina tangled her fingers into Cori’s mane and pressed her ample lips against hers. Her lips were as soft as she remembered, but the kiss itself was not at all soft; it was commanding and brash. The kiss, though punishing, felt like a salve to her long-broken heart. Although conflicting emotions coursed through this kiss, nevertheless Cori wanted to cry out from the elation of those wonderfully plump lips on hers after so many years. She screwed her eyelids shut to bottle up the tears of relief on the verge of spilling out.

She grasped onto Gina’s waist and drew her tightly up against her, parting her lips to beg entry. Cori wanted more of her; she wanted to see exactly how far she could push. Gina granted the unspoken wish, using her tongue to trace Cori’s lips, upper teeth, and tongue. An involuntary moan sounded in the back of Cori’s throat.

Gina pulled away by a few millimeters. “Is this what you wanted?” she gritted out, her lips moving against Cori’s as she spoke.

“I want you,” Cori whispered.

Gina pressed her lips to Cori’s again, one of her hands cupping her jaw as her fingers grasped her hair, and the other pushing against her sternum. “You could have had me. You had your chance,” Gina muttered against her lips, this time, opening her eyes to meet Cori’s. Cori blinked. Just who did Gina think she was, making out with her and then dredging this up in the middle of it? She wants a conversation now? Let’s fucking have it.

* * *

The Playlist ©2022 by Nat Christo

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Nat is a public educator currently residing in Wisconsin with their wife. Nat is an old millennial, the quintessential eldest child, and loves their cats. As a writer, Nat's claim to fame is that- for better or for worse- they were the editor of their high school's literary magazine.

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BEYOND THE LIGHTS BY NICOLE HIGGINBOTHAM-HOGUE

Blurb:

Sawyer Johnson has spent her entire life in the same small town with the same people, and she has always imagined a life beyond the bright lights of the town. Autumn Thompson, her best friend is completely satisfied with their simple lifestyle and can't imagine anything coming in between them. However, when Sawyer decides to go on a trip out of town in order to meet her celebrity crush, Autumn insists on going with her. Will Sawyer find happiness in a lifestyle framed around fame and fortune, or will Autumn finally convince her that the life that they had together was worth more than she thought?

Tell us about this scene:

Sawyer Johnson doesn't know who she is beyond the life she has made for herself in her small town, and her quest for self-discovery and romance will take her on an adventure that she will never forget.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I feel like self-discovery and exploring romance for the first time are both things that most people can relate to. This scene exhibits the feelings that Sawyer has when she realizes that it is time for her to move forward in her life and figure out who she is and what kind of life she wants to live. The scene also shows how her decisions affect the people around her, namely her best friend, and how one decision can set the tone for other experiences that happen down the road.

* * *

Excerpt:

"Memories," Sawyer emphasized. "While memories are all good and great. I do not want to have to constantly remember a good moment. I want to create new experiences and live in the moment. I do not see being able to do that here. There are so many things outside of this town that neither you or I have seen or done. Don't you want to know what you are missing out on? Don't you want to see what else is out there?" 

"Not really," Autumn said, looking around at the park and smiling. "I love it here. Why mix it up?" 

"Because I am not happy, and every day, I think about what I could be doing, and living in my parent's basement and working at the local grocery store is not fulfilling," Sawyer told her. "I want to be able to explore this country and see all of the scenic places that we had to learn about in social studies. I want to get a job where I can explore my talents, and I would like to meet new people and be able to learn about their experiences." 

"Let me guess," Autumn said, eyeing her. "People like Amy Mitchell?" 

"Well, yes," Sawyer blushed. "You can't blame me. We are from two vastly different worlds, but I bet you that if I ever got the chance to meet her, then she would instantly fall for me." 

"Well, as much of a catch as you are, I'm not sure that a famous actress would give you the time of day," Autumn said, kicking her foot in the dirt. 

Sawyer waved away the small dust cloud that her friend had created, thinking about what she had said. Yes, Amy Mitchell was a famous actress, but everyone had a human side. And Sawyer just knew when she saw Amy on the big screen that she was a decent person. She could see it in her eyes and the way that Amy talked. Besides, she had seen several interviews with the celebrity where the woman had talked about her support for various human-interest groups, and the other woman's caring spirit had her sold. 

"That's right. You don't have anything to say to that," Autumn said, addressing Sawyer's silence. "That's because you know that I'm right. Amy Mitchell is an actress...a good actress maybe...but there would be no way that she would take time to know a small-town woman like you." 

"Ouch," Sawyer replied. "Way to have faith in me."

"Sorry," Autumn smiled apologetically. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I just do not want to see you getting turned down by the woman. I know that would crush you, and I care about you. We all have crushes on unobtainable people, but they are just crushes. And it is better to leave them as crushes, because sometimes finding out the truth is harder to deal with." 

"It's not a crush," Sawyer argued. "I'm in love, and I don't believe that anyone is truly unobtainable. Sometimes, people just lack the confidence to let others know how they feel. I am not going to sit here for my entire life not knowing. I have never felt like this about anyone, and I want to see where it goes. I am not like you. I can't just be content without dating or giving anyone a chance." 

"I'm waiting for the right person," Autumn replied. 

"Well, you've been waiting for the majority of your life," Sawyer said. "I haven't ever seen you go out with anyone, not even to prom. You went with me. Heck, I do not even know if you are straight or gay or what you are. I've never heard you talk about anyone that you liked." 

"That's because I don't fall easily in love," Autumn said. "And sometimes, you find what you are looking for in the same place that you started." 

"Well, I don't see finding anyone around these parts," Sawyer said, looking around at the empty park. 

"Maybe, you aren't looking in the right area," Autumn stated. 

"Or maybe, I'm wasting my time doing the same thing over and over again," Sawyer argued. "It's about time that I explore other opportunities."

"Like Amy?" Autumn sighed. 

"Yes," Sawyer grinned. 

"Fine," Autumn said. "When are you thinking about leaving?" 

"Probably on Tuesday," Sawyer replied. "I still have to tell my folks."

"I'll bet they'll be stoked," Autumn commented sarcastically. 

"They'll live," Sawyer said. "Besides, I have to grow up at some point." 

"Well if I can't convince you to stay, then at least let me go with you," Autumn said. 

"I don't see how that would be fun for you," Sawyer replied. "I kind of thought that I would go by myself. What if I decide not to come back?" 

"Why don't we go together, and if you fall in love with Amy and decide to stay with her, then I will go back home knowing that you are safe and sound," Autumn said. 

"Alright," Sawyer said. She had not originally planned on taking Autumn with her, but she knew that Autumn was being smart. She did not really know what was on the other side of the town's walls, and it would be best to venture out with another person. "You have to be ready on time though. I'm leaving at six in the morning." 

"Fine," Autumn said. "Just promise me one thing?"

"What?" Sawyer inquired. 

"That you won't lose your heart to someone that doesn't deserve it." 

"I won't," Sawyer said, shaking her head. Sometimes, Autumn could be a bit overprotective. 

* * *

Beyond the Lights ©2020 by Nicole Higginbotham-Hogue

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Growing up in a small town, Nicole Higginbotham-Hogue spent a majority of her time reading and writing, so when she was granted the opportunity to write full-time, she didn't have to think twice.

Since beginning her writing career, she has managed to pen several lesbian romances, while adding a little action and adventure to spice things up.

As a newly graduated MBA student, she plans to use her recently discovered free time to craft the art that she loves. For more information on Nicole's new releases or to find out what she has been working on, sign-up for her newsletter.

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THE HUM OF BEES BY PATRICIA SPENCER

Blurb:

Eugenia Gallant has given everything up for her work life. Now she is being thrown under the bus by her superior. He has ordered her to take her three months accrued vacation ‘to think things over’ before testifying at the upcoming court case. Exhausted, betrayed, and reviled, all she wants to do is hide out for the summer someplace where no one knows her. But where in Canada can a woman go to hide from the nationwide media storm she herself unleashed?

Darcy Gordon is all but a recluse. She lives on her farm outside the village of Wellington on Lake Ontario and minds her own business. She doesn’t watch TV, doesn’t have internet, not even a data plan on her phone. Returning to her ancestral home after a spectacular crash and burn, she is hiding out, afraid that her past may come to light–or worse, that she might get pushed so hard again that she will repeat the unthinkable.

When a mutual friend asks Darcy if Eugenia can stay in the little cabin on her property, Darcy agrees as a favour, not knowing it will turn both their lives upside down. For what future can there be for love between a recluse and a prominent public figure ordered by the courts to return to the limelight? Between a woman based in Ontario and one who must return to British Columbia?

The Hum of Bees won a 2022 Golden Crown Literary Award in the Contemporary Romance: Mid-Length Novels category.

Tell us about this scene:

Darcy's wife unexpectedly showed up at the farm. Darcy never told Eugenia she was still technically married.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I chose this scene because it speaks to the complexity of human love and intimate relationships.

* * *

Excerpt:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was coming. I never meant to put you in such an awkward situation,” Darcy said. “And— I would have come to talk to you about it sooner, only... I didn’t know what to say.”

Eugenia’s emotions caromed all over the place, a volatile mix of anger and sorrow and jealousy and love and rationality and a willingness to forgive and hear her out and not jump to terrible conclusions. Every incendiary body chemical inside her was on the loose, lighting fuses to one big emotional conflagration. Now. Now she understood jealousy, insecurity, as she never had before in her life. Now she understood why jilted lovers who came to her for counselling could be so obsessive. Love made you primitive. No, she corrected herself. Not love. The sense of betrayal.

“May I come in?”

“I’m not sure.” After four days of impatiently waiting for her to show up, she was about to turn Darcy away.

“There are things you need to know.”

Yes. But in this moment, she couldn’t see straight. She was caught up in an emotional maelstrom. Who had she become this summer, swinging between laughter and tears, joy and desolation, pleasure and pain—feeling such strong sweeps of emotion she couldn’t even formulate a sensible response when she most needed one?

“All right,” Darcy said at last. “I can’t blame you.” She turned to leave.

Seeing Darcy’s back, watching her retreat, Eugenia understood that no matter how conflicted she was, she couldn’t bear to let Darcy walk away. “You’re still in love with her, aren’t you Darcy?” Don’t deny it. I saw how you held her.

Darcy stopped. Turned. Came back and spoke quietly through the screen door. “I’ll always love her, Eugenia.”

“She’s the love of your life.”

“She was the other mother of my child. That’s no small thing.”

“Then why aren’t you together, Darcy. If you still love each other? I don’t understand.”

“Because we can’t stand to be laid open to each other any more.”

Eugenia thought about how difficult it had been that day in bed, to coax Darcy to lay herself open physically. Mentally, emotionally, there were aspects of her that were still out of reach.

“Because both of us...” Darcy continued, shifting her weight, rubbing her face. “We were so sure that we were the couple that would make it. That we’d never break up. We started with such deep love, such certainty that we would be together ’til one of us stopped drawing breath. We went in fully committed. Worked our asses off to make it succeed. For twenty-one years we did our very best, loved as hard as we could, had jobs, raised a child, did what had to be done. And still we failed. Each of us gave everything we had to give until finally neither of us had anything left to give. It’s like... you draw from a well ’til it’s dry, and still you’re left thirsty.”

“You lost a child, Darcy,” she said. “Many marriages don’t survive that.”

“Yeah. The final blow, Eugenia. But we made mistakes, too. We got tired. We stopped trying so hard. Maybe... we expected it to be something different than how marriage really works. Maybe we didn’t know enough about life to be living one. Laura thought it should feel intense and connected all the time. But there was a child to raise, groceries to buy, livings to be earned, a harsh city to navigate. I thought a marriage levelled off and got to a different stage—of... abiding, I guess. It... Look, in the end it doesn’t matter. It’s not about blame. We started out rich in our hearts and ended up destitute.” Darcy shook her head. “So why aren’t we together, Eugenia? Because I, for one, am ashamed of myself. I’m ashamed to look Laura in the eye. To have started out brave and strong and certain and ended up hating myself, physically punishing myself because I felt I wasn’t good enough to be what she needed me to be. To have seemed so... possible... and then crumble a piece at a time in front of the very one you wished to be shiny for? She knows too much about me for me to even pretend to be... something. We’re key witnesses to each other’s hopes and failure. So, being together? No. Too much.”

“And yet she came here.”

“Yeah. Because some nights you’re already in so much pain, additional hurt means nothing. We’re the ones who loved Drew the most. He was an extraordinary spirit. Funny, smart, charismatic, creative, loving. Too sweet for this world. We’re the only ones who know the extent of that loss. For everyone else, it’s theoretical, or sympathy. They don’t understand how the world is diminished for this child not being in it.”

Eugenia nodded, acknowledging Darcy’s statement.

Darcy scuffed the toe of her boot at the edges of the pile of paper hearts, shoring up the shape of it.

Tears started streaming down Eugenia’s cheeks. “Did you have sex with her, Darcy?”

Darcy’s head rose, her eyes filled with concern. “Aw, no, Eugenia.” She stepped quickly forward and put her palm on the screen of the door. “No! I would never do that to you. Ever.”

“But you slept with her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I did.”

“Why,” Eugenia asked, crying. “Why with her and not me?”

“Because she [has night terrors] too.”

Eugenia took a deep breath and let it out. She pushed the door. “Come in.”

* * *

The Hum of Bees ©2021 by Patricia Spencer

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

I write love stories with soul. I am interested in the human experience, especially as it unfolds in the realms of the heart, spirit, relationships, and identity. My novels feature mature women, a slow burn, and abiding love.

I can be contacted at www.patriciaspencer.ca

STRUM ME HARD BY RENEE DAHLIA

Blurb:

A down on her luck popstar meets a polite socialite entrepreneur with a scandalous secret life ...

Job musician and ex-lead guitarist for 90s band BeST, Vivian Koranne had been living her best life when the pandemic stopped all live music. The offer to create music for a lingerie brand is a lifeline, and she jumps at it, and gorgeous Nancy who runs the company.

Nancy Bozeman’s trust fund would keep most people happy, but she wants more. When she hires compelling musician Vivian Koranne, she knows she’s going to shock her friends all over again, just like when she became an "aunt" or started a plus-sized lingerie company. She doesn’t expect to be shocked herself by their mutual attraction.

Despite being worlds apart, they’re both hiding their true selves under what people expect, and as they work together, their chemistry is undeniable. But how can two very different women find love together?

Tell us about this scene:

Vivian is about to meet Nancy who has offered her a gig.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

First impressions are always fun.

* * *

Excerpt:

Three days later, Vivian stood outside a house in suburban Mosman holding her guitar case and amp. For someone who had spent so much of her working life alongside the rich and famous, it still felt weird to be here in one of the plushest suburbs in Sydney. Everything this year seemed odd, and to go from being stuck in her tiny apartment for months, to being here certainly reinforced how frustrating the past few months, or however long it had been, felt. Leafy tree lined streets with tall fences and houses set back from the road, and glimpses of the harbour around every corner, and it all screamed with wealth and luxury. For someone who’d spent most of her life living out of a suitcase, sometimes in fancy hotels, other times in cheap backpackers, this place had a solid permanence about it. What was time anyway? The last couple of years had been an exercise in weirdness and uncertainty. For someone who liked change and liked to explore new places, it’d all been hard to stomach being stuck in one place. It was beyond time to take charge of this opportunity and go forward into the work she wanted to do. No more sitting around waiting for the rona to pass. She gently put the amp down and pressed the button at the gate.

“Hello. Who is this?” A croaky voice filtered through the little electronic box.

“Hi, I’m Vivian Koranne. I have an appointment with Ms Bozeman.” Her mask muffled her voice a little and she made sure she spoke slower and clearer than usual.

“Come in.” A little buzzing sound followed the comment and the gate opened automatically. Vivian picked up her amp and walked through the gate. The pathway was gorgeous, laid with old Federation tiles in a complex pattern, and the house. Oh My God! The house. It was one of those hundred-year-old Sydney villas; all red brick on a sandstone base with corrugated iron roof and so much detailed woodwork. Surrounded by gum trees, the house sat at the top of a steep block of land, and Vivian could tell that the view from inside the house would be sensational. The front door opened as she approached, and an elderly woman smiled.

“Welcome. You can hang your mask here, and we have some hand sanitiser.” The elderly woman pointed to a small side table in the entrance hall and Vivian did as she was told. The hand sanitiser had no scent and was in a fancy metallic bottle. “Come with me. Ms Bozeman is in the summer drawing room.” The woman had a smoker’s voice which would be perfect as a backing voice for a jazz trio with those croaky tones. Vivian couldn’t move for a second as she realised what the woman had said. Holy balls. This house had enough drawing rooms to label one of them for summer? This was a different world from her unit where her and Joy shared a bathroom so small that she had to stand squashed between the toilet and the wall to shut the door. She slipped off her sandals and followed the woman along a hallway and then tried not to gasp as the house opened up to reveal Sydney Harbour in all its glory. The view was better than she’d imagined.

A woman, presumably Ms Bozeman, stood up in an elegant stretch. Silhouetted with the sun flowing in from outside, she was tall with impressive tits and broad hips. She must be wearing a corset to keep her waist pinned in like that, as if she were straight out of a period film. Until this second, Vivian had never believed she’d had a type because all her past lovers were varied. The gallop of her heartbeat and rush of blood in her veins was new and told her that she’d found exactly what she’d been looking for all these years. If she wasn’t careful, she’d beg this gorgeous woman for a kiss. She swallowed. Work. She was here to work. It’d been so long since she’d had paid work, she couldn’t let a little lust get in the way.

“Hello.”

Ms Bozeman stepped towards her, and the shadows disappeared from her face to reveal a face lightly touched by time, but in a way that could only be achieved with a lifetime of great skin care. She was white with dark blond hair, high cheekbones, and wide eyes that seemed to sum up Vivian in one single glance. The light cast just enough shadow that Vivian couldn’t see her eye colour. It was hard to tell her age—somewhere between mid-forties and early-sixties—with incredible bone structure. If this was Ms Bozeman, her new client, this job just became a lot more interesting.

“Vivian Koranne, I presume. Welcome. Come and sit. Mrs Chisholm will get you anything you want.” Ms Bozeman had a sultry voice with a posh private school Australian accent.

Vivian nodded. “Anything?” Apparently, she couldn’t help herself and Ms Bozeman’s perfectly sculptured eyebrow raised up a tiny fraction.

“I would typically suggest that eleven am on a Tuesday is too early for champagne. Exceptions could be made if we are celebrating?”

Vivian wanted to grin. “Just water is fine for me. Thank you.”

“Sparkling or flat?”

Damn it’d been an age since Vivian had spent any time with anyone except bloody Joy because the simple act of politeness felt like someone was thinking about her needs and it was oddly foreign. She really needed to find a better place to live. “Tap is fine.”

“Mrs Chisholm, could you please bring some water for our guest, and more tea for myself?”

The elderly woman left the room.

“Mrs Chisholm is really too old for her role, however, I cannot find it in myself to push her into retirement. She did for my parents, and she refuses to leave me. Don’t look at me with such a cynical look. Her daily tasks are not strenuous.”

“I would never dare to judge a potential client.”

Ms Bozeman tilted her head slightly and the light changed to reveal her eye colour. Hazel; mostly brown with a few flecks of green. “I dare say I am your client. Are you always so direct?”

* * *

Strum Me Hard ©2022 by Renee Dahlia

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

An avid reader, Renée Dahlia writes contemporary and historical queer romance. Renée is a bisexual cis woman who is fascinated by people and loves to explore human relationships, with a side of humour, through her writing.

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UNDERWATER VIBES BY MICKEY BRENT

Blurb:

How to survive that pivotal moment when admiration turns to attraction?

Hélène Dupont, a scientific translator in Brussels, Belgium, cherishes two things: flowers and her cat. She writes bad poetry to help her survive her painful existence with her husband, until she is forced to undergo a radical lifestyle change. Sylvie Routard, a young, Greek photographer, enters Hélène’s world as her new private swim coach. During their daily lessons, Hélène’s admiration toward Sylvie turns to attraction. As unsettling feelings hijack Hélène’s mind and body, daydreams featuring Sylvie enter her world—even her poems. While the two athletes increasingly feel underwater vibes in the pool, Hélène questions her relationship at home, and everything else in life.

Underwater Vibes is the first of a two-book series. Broad Awakening is its sequel.

Tell us about this scene:

Sylvie and Lydia, two mismatched former lovers, run into each other in a park in Brussels. They come from vastly different cultural and socio-economic backgrounds, and betrayal feeds their misunderstanding about their former relationship.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is my favorite scene in Underwater Vibes because it’s humorous and seems so real. It shows how two mismatched former lovers misunderstand each other so well.

I used to be a competitive athlete in high school so running through parks in the early morning was part of my day. I competed in several sports simultaneously and took winning seriously. I was hard on myself, an overachiever, and perhaps not the kindest kid to others. Luckily, I grew out of this phase. I figured out that winning wasn’t everything in life; people and relationships were more important. Now, I’m relieved to be in a more positive, open-minded, and caring place.

Writing this scene brought me back to the past, yet it made me laugh. Although it’s completely fictional, it strikes a sensitive nerve in me. Sylvie and Lydia come from different cultural and socio-economic backgrounds, and betrayal lies at the heart of their former relationship.

I’m a pantser. I write from the seat of my pants, rather than plotting my stories. So, I often don’t know what’s coming until it shows up on the page. In this scene, Sylvie’s obnoxious ex, Lydia, showed up in my novel while I was rewriting the seventh draft of my manuscript. She popped onto the page after seven years. It took me thirteen years, and thirteen versions, to finish the book. (I’m quite the perfectionist.) I had never met anyone like Lydia and had no clue how she got there. Yet, somehow, she hijacked my story with her despicable charm. Poor Sylvie, my Greek protagonist, had to deal with the consequences.

Surprises like these represent tremendous gifts to authors like me, who strive to tell meaningful sapphic stories with unexpected twists. The more I develop fictional characters, the more I learn about myself—and life. Writing unearths hidden passions, secrets, and, in my case, an imagination that knows no limits. Readers ask me if I’ve experienced the bizarre things that my characters go through in my stories. Some authors do, even in fiction. But most of what I write comes from another place—a hidden source from within. It just bubbles up and I jot it down.

I always hope my readers, especially those in the LGBTQ+ community, will identify with the characters in my novels. Many of us have ex-girlfriends or ex-partners who remind us of our past, sometimes in disappointing ways. No matter how painful, the past has a unique way of teaching us how to evolve into more compassionate and loving individuals. Then, when we’re ready, we can open our hearts, like blossoming flowers, to that special individual who will reciprocate our love. This scene forces Sylvie to realize that she needs to move on—away from Lydia. At last, she’s ready for true love.

Note: There’s some French in the dialogue, since the story takes place in Brussels. If you visit Parc Cinquantenaire today, you’ll hear plenty of French. Who knows, you might even see Sylvie and Lydia!

* * *

Excerpt:

Sylvie did her best to keep her sneakers on flat surfaces as she jogged through the capital’s bustling streets. This was not an easy feat, with summer roadwork and throngs of schoolkids cramming the sidewalks. When she reached Avenue des Nerviens, she felt better. No more whizzing cars. In Parc Cinquantenaire, she ran straight to a grassy spot, flinging herself under her favorite pine tree. Breathing hard, she spread her legs in a futile attempt to grasp her toes. 

She knew she would never be as flexible as a gymnast. An ex had told her that her body was 80 percent swimmer, 20 percent jogger, and 0 percent gymnast. Her ex was right. Certain movements, like this one, made no sense. But she knew how sore she would be if she didn’t stretch. Only five kilometers, but still... 

She pushed her nose at the ground, relaxing into the challenge as the moist odor of tender grass hit her nostrils. She held her breath at the sight of a ladybug balancing on a tip of grass, contemplating its glossy red and black form. Ladybugs had always reminded Sylvie of her grandmother: remarkable, yet vulnerable. 

Ever so gently, she blew her breath on the critter. 

A gruff voice interrupted her bliss. “I knew I’d find you here.” 

Sylvie’s heart sank. Ah non, not again. She ignored the voice and kept on blowing. 

“Alors, still trying to be Superwoman? Or is it Superjock?” 

Sylvie’s back muscles tightened. Moistness trickled under her arms. Before she could straighten, she knew she was cornered. 

“You won’t mind if I join you,” ordered the voice. A blond woman with a synthetic smile and dangling gold earrings threw down a newspaper, which landed a foot from Sylvie’s head. 

Attempting to kneel in her Chanel suit and sheer stockings, the woman grimaced at the sound of ripping nylon. “Merde!” Sylvie swung her legs together. “En fait, I was just on my way—”

“Come on, mon lapin, I saw you. You just got here. Hard to miss all that huffing and puffing. And you’re sweating up a lake.” The woman’s eyes bored into Sylvie’s. 

“Isn’t it a bit late to find out you can’t hide things from Lydia?” The blond woman placed her hand firmly on Sylvie’s shoulder. Digging her long, silver fingernails into the androgynous woman’s T-shirt, she forced her to stay put. 

“So you’ve been spying on me again.” Crossing her legs, Sylvie glared at her impromptu visitor. 

Lydia laughed nervously. “You wish!” She scanned the grass. “I just happened to be taking a walk in the—” 

“D’accord, Lydia. You just happened to drive thirty kilometers in rush-hour traffic to come take a stroll in my neighborhood park at eight a.m. on a Tuesday morning.” 

Lydia dug her fingernails deeper into Sylvie’s skin. “First of all, it’s not your park. It’s a public space. It belongs to everyone.” 

“D’accord.” Sylvie shook the woman’s hand off her shoulder. “But you just happen to live in Flanders, where you have so many beaut—” 

“Cut the crap. Why didn’t you return my calls?” The Chanel woman’s eyes were glistening. 

Sylvie clenched her jaw. I will not let her do this to me. Not again. 

Lydia’s voice quivered. “We agreed we’d be friends. But it’s been four months, and no word from you at all.” Feigning a frown, she plucked a few blades of grass. “You never answer your phone. You never seem to be at work.” 

Sylvie’s nostrils flared. “I can’t take phone calls while I’m working. You know that.” 

“If you can call what you do ‘working.’” Lydia rolled her eyes. 

Sylvie glared at her. “Ah non, not this again. We’re not going there.” 

“Never mind. I...I was worried about you. I was afraid you did something drastic, like leave Belgium for good, or something.” Lydia’s voice cracked. 

“I would’ve told you,” said Sylvie, softening her voice. 

“But what if something happened to me? What if I got sick, like really sick? I could’ve died, and you—” Like a Broadway actress, Lydia brushed off imaginary tears with the back of her wrist. 

“You’re a strong woman, Lydia.” 

“But you don’t care anymore, n’est-ce pas? You never cared!” Lydia pouted. 

Sylvie inhaled deeply to steady herself. “We agreed it was over. Remember?” 

“But I trusted you, Sylvie,” burst Lydia, ripping up bits of grass around her knees. 

The way she whined reminded Sylvie of a spoiled child fussing over spilled ice cream. So obnoxious. Sylvie felt her ears grow hot as her temper rose. “You trusted me? What’s this? You go off on one of your fancy business trips and you—” Her voice broke off. 

“But it only happened once, and I did apologize.” 

“We’re not going to go over this again, Lydia. It’s time to move on.” Sylvie could feel the sore spot in her chest, a mental bruise from the past, stabbing at her heart. “De toute façon, in case you forgot, you’re a happily married woman,” she retorted with a sneer. 

“That’s not fair! Leave him out of this.” 

Sylvie rose and, after a few brisk arm swings, announced firmly, “Désolée, Lydia. This time, it really is over.” She held up her sports watch. “And it’s time for me to run.” 

Still perched pristinely on her newspaper, Lydia struggled to untangle her legs. “Mon lapin, wait!” But before she could move, a curt “ciao” answered her plea. 

* * *

Underwater Vibes ©2017 by Mickey Brent

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Mickey Brent writes quirky stories about diverse cultures, languages, and lifestyles. Her novels offer readers a fun, light-hearted, and romantic view of life. Her first contemporary lesbian romance, Underwater Vibes, takes place in Brussels, Belgium. Its sequel, Broad Awakening, features breathtaking Greece. Mickey’s third novel is set in San Francisco: www.mickeybrent.com

THE CHASE BY SABRINA BLAUM

Blurb:

Gabriella Worrington, who has just moved with her family to a new San Francisco neighborhood, clashes with Seren Doyle, president of the local homeowner association. Their meeting is interrupted, leading to a fast-paced, eventful race across the country, with both the mob and the FBI nipping at their heels.

The Chase, the first book in the Constellation series, is a stand-alone romance novel featuring two women confronted with a past they'd rather forget and secrets they'd prefer to bury, as they navigate the closeness that grows between them and the uncertain future that lies ahead.

Tell us about this scene:

It's their first meeting, and it doesn't go as planned. Bree seeks out the president of their homeowner association about a permit to plant peach trees. It's a regular day, but then things go awry, and they are heading for an adventure.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I like the set up, and how it is already revealing so much of their characters. This scene sets the tone for their immediate interactions while also establishing who they are at their core as people. This book has a fast start and jumps right into action, and I think it works well for their story.

* * *

Excerpt:

Bree rang the doorbell, and a moment later, footsteps approached until the front door swung open and an elegant woman in her late forties with long, dark, wavy hair that fell over her shoulders stood before her, dressed in a midnight blue, expensive-looking pant suit—a buttoned jacket with a white shirt underneath, starched collar and all. God, that shiny platinum necklace must have cost a fortune. And were those Manolo Blahniks on her feet? Bree snapped her gaze back up.

“Hello, may I help you?” the woman asked, raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

Bree stood straighter, feeling frumpy in her floral skirt and pink blouse. She should have brushed her hair before coming here. The summer heat often left her with a frizzy mess. “I hope so. My name is Bree, and I’m one of your new neighbors. We live a few houses down the street from you.”

“Nice to meet you?”

Bree stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She could already tell how this would play out. “I’m not here to introduce myself. Actually, you know my daughter, Faith? She babysat your boy once.”

“Oh, right. OK. So how may I help you?”

“You are listed as the president of the neighborhood HOA. We’ve sent you a plan for the trees we’d like to plant in our backyard over a month ago, but we’ve never received a reply.”

Seren tilted her head. “You’re here for trees?”

“Yes. No. I’m here to inquire about this ridiculous approval we need to plant trees.”

Seren sighed. “Come on inside. I just returned home from work.”

That explains the outfit. Bree followed Seren through the foyer into a sitting area. 

Seren pointed at the couch before settling in the sofa chair next to it. “Brie. As in the cheese?”

This time, Bree did roll her eyes. “No. It’s spelled B-r-e-e. It’s short for Gabriella, but only my mama calls me that.” 

Seren frowned. “But—”  

“You have no room to talk. Your parents obviously didn’t know how you’d turn out when you were born, because no one in their right mind would call you serene. Who tells people what they can plant in their own backyards?” Bree refrained from cringing when Seren’s eyebrows almost shot off her forehead. She usually wasn’t this rude, but she’d worked herself up into a stitch over this whole HOA business. 

“My name has no e at the end.” Seren shook her head. “The HOA is concerned with the existing property value and would prefer for it to retain the current high standard.” 

“It’s still pronounced the same way.” Why were they talking about names? “A peach tree will ruin the value of the houses here?”

“It might.”

“So what? You first have to do research on peach trees before you can reply to an inquiry we sent out a month ago?”

Seren shrugged her shoulders. 

She had a matter-of-fact way about her that baffled Bree. “You’re not serious.”

Seren pinched the bridge of her nose. “Bree, forgive me. I’ve had a tiring day, and I must see after my son, who—”

“Hey, Mom. You’re home early.” A young boy with his mother’s dark hair, and green eyes had, unbeknownst to both women, entered the room. 

“Parker,” Seren said with a smile. “Bree, this is my son Parker, who should be practicing playing the piano,” she added, with both reproach and amusement coloring her tone.

Parker flushed, and his gaze dropped to his feet. 

“Parker, this is Bree. One of our new neighbors.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Ms. Bree. We haven’t had new people here in forever. Do you want to come to my room and check out my LEGO collection? I just got a—”

“Sweetheart, Bree isn’t here for that.”

His shoulders slumped. “Oh. OK. Of course.” 

“Another time?” Bree asked, not caring if she overstepped any boundaries. She hated disappointing children. She held Seren’s gaze, who’d narrowed her eyes at her words.

“Awesome,” Parker said.

Before Bree could say anything else, or better, come up with an excuse to get out of there, a loud bang rang outside, followed by shouting and what sounded like a fight. A gun shot.

Parker dashed to his mother.

“The car,” Seren rushed out, and Parker nodded before darting to the rear of the house.

“What’s happening?” Bree asked.

Seren opened what Bree had assumed to be a candy bowl, only to draw out a gun. “Come on. We must leave!”

“You got a gun in your candy dish!”

“Hurry!” Seren’s tone sounded so commanding that Bree jumped and followed the woman when the windows shattered and shouts filtered into the house. 

Seren seized Bree’s arm and dragged her along, out of the sitting room, down a hallway, then through what appeared to be a den, until she flung open the door to the garage, which housed a monstrosity of a yellow car. Canary yellow. Screaming yellow. 

It looked ugly beyond measure, but perhaps Bree only perceived it that way because she felt confused, stressed, anxious, and overall abhorred the color yellow. She also knew next to nothing about cars. 

“Get in,” Seren called, and Bree obeyed, opening the passenger door to slide inside. 

“You’re coming with us, Ms. Bree?” Parker asked in a tremulous voice. 

His fear anchored Bree, and she calmed down. She fastened her seat belt and turned around to gaze at the wide-eyed boy with a warm smile. “Looks that way, honey. You buckled up?”

He nodded. 

Seren started the car as the garage doors opened, and with screeching tires, she sped past men with guns drawn firing a barrage of shots at their vehicle.

Amidst metallic clanging that Bree felt should ring louder, she flinched and raised her arms, as if that would protect her from stray bullets.

“It’s armored,” Seren grunted and shot out of the driveway, racing down the road, ignoring all traffic signs as she led them out of the neighborhood.

* * *

The Chase ©2022 by Sabrina Blaum

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Sabrina has always written and wrote her first “novel” in elementary school, when she decided that Enid Blyton’s Malory Towers needed a sequel. She also had the habit of telling her late grandmother bedtime stories.

Sign up here for Sabrina Blaum ’s author newsletter.

JINGLE AROUND THE BLOCK BY SERENA KIRSCH

Blurb:

The first encounter between Charlie and Rachel ended Charlie’s marriage.

Charlotte Norris is used to the comforts of suburbia. She knows Rachel from neighborhood block parties, and not in a good way. After the fateful day where Rachel exposed Charlie’s husband as a cheater, Charlie has to throw the neighborhood Christmas party alone, and the pressure’s on.

Rachel Nelson can’t seem to find any luck in love, especially not in winter, where romance goes to die. She’s bitter about moving back to Lake Ridge, the suburban hometown that spat her lesbian ass out the second she turned 18, and she can hardly even afford the rental house from which she streams video games for side cash.

When fate puts the two women together again, things could get explosive—especially as Rachel is a target of gossip to the other Lake Ridge housewives. Charlie’s determined to get Rachel into the in group, though, even if it means forcing her to come to their very opinionated book club…

Their luck may be about to change.

Two unlikely personalities clash in this rich girl/poor girl lesbian Christmas romance about sapphic media and deserving that elusive happy ending.

Tell us about this scene:

After Charlie runs into her ex-husband at Aldi, she flees the store to have a private breakdown in her car. Rachel happens to see the encounter and buys Charlie's groceries for her.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

If such a thing as an anti-meet-cute exists, this scene might count. I'm drawn to characters that are kind of jerks. As you can see here, Rachel's well-meaning gesture blows up in her face, and she takes petty revenge in a way that is pretty comical to me. I find it infinitely more satisfying to read romances where the characters have to overcome a rocky start than characters who get along smoothly from the get-go.

* * *

Excerpt:

The items flew through the cashier’s hands as she checked them out, one irritating beep after another, until Rachel was fumbling for her wallet while the next person in line stared her down. The price made her wince; it was probably nothing to Charlotte, but Rachel was on a tighter budget. She told herself it was worth it to help someone out, but her bank account would disagree later. Awkwardly, she towed the items out of the way and started bagging them on the strip along the wall to the exit.

There was a moment of panic where Rachel realized Charlotte had probably already left the parking lot, but it wouldn’t be that inconvenient if she had to drive them home and walk them across the street to her, at least.

In the parking lot, Rachel saw Charlotte with her head in her hands in the front seat of her silver Nissan Rogue. Rachel paused with the cart, considering her options. It would be less uncomfortable to just take everything home and deliver it later, when the divorcée had a better hold on her emotions. It felt wrong to impose on her at a vulnerable moment like this.

But some of the groceries needed to be refrigerated. And Rachel didn’t have that much room in her fridge. A car honked at her for being in the way, which made the decision for her. Rachel approached the Nissan, cringing at the audible sobs emitting from the car. She rapped her knuckles gently on the window with the feeling that she was going to regret it later.

The woman in the car jumped at her knocking. And then looked out at Rachel with the most pathetic look Rachel had ever seen on anyone, ever. Her entire face was red, her blue irises piercing in stark contrast with the pinkish whites of her eyes.

The window rolled down with attitude. “Hi,” Rachel said, wishing she had not come to Aldi today at all. “Can you pop your trunk for me?”

“Why?” Charlotte asked. She sniffled. Her eyes roved over Rachel’s face, trying to intuit her intentions, and then lingered on her neck, where spindly floral tattoos crept out of the top of Rachel’s shirt.

“For your groceries?” Rachel tried.

“I didn’t get any groceries.” Suspiciously, Charlotte eyed the bags in Rachel’s cart.

“Yeah, um, I got you.”

The trunk popped open. Charlotte turned back to face the steering wheel and crossed her arms over her chest. Feeling like she’d made a terrible mistake, Rachel unloaded the bags into the trunk and shut the door. Every instinct screamed at her to run away, but Rachel was a bit of a sap, if she was being honest. She had a soft spot for people in pain.

Her hand lingered for only a moment on the passenger side door before she let herself into the car and closed it quickly. Charlotte’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Or maybe that was just from the crying.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“I can get out if you want me to,” Rachel said as evenly as she could. “But I wanted to make sure you’re okay first.”

“Obviously,” Charlotte said, “I am not okay.”

Rachel tried not to stare at the other woman’s puffy face. “Is there anything that I can do for you?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said, clipped. “You could buy my groceries.”

She couldn’t help it—Rachel let out a surprised laugh. “Done. Is there anything else you need?”

Charlotte rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. “Like what?”

“Like…a hug? A strong drink? A wingman to get you laid?”

It was Charlotte’s turn to laugh. She laughed well, like it was a performance and she was the star actress. “You’re crass, you know that?”

“Yeah.” Rachel settled down into the seat—this car had fucking plush seats. “I’m serious, though.”

Charlotte took two deep, rattling breaths as she ran her finger over the bottom of the steering wheel. “Thank you for buying my groceries. It wasn’t necessary. But thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Rachel said, feeling like she’d just been backhand-complimented and not really liking it. She avoided looking over at Charlotte. The longer they sat in silence, the more awkward it was. She cleared her throat. “I’m across the street if you need me. For anything. I work weird hours and long shifts but I can find free time if you want a buddy.” At that, Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Or just someone to talk to who’s not super involved in all this.”

“I don’t want to talk to a stranger about my problems.”

Stranger. Like they didn’t pass through the same Lake Ridge social circles. “Alright. Sorry to bother you then, Charlotte.”

“It’s Charlie,” Charlotte said with a vehemence Rachel was sure she meant to aim at someone else.

Rachel plastered on the smile that she used on difficult patients at the nursing home. “Right, Charlie. You can just drop off my tote bags whenever you have a minute.” At the look Charlie gave her, Rachel amended, “Or I can come by to pick them up.”

“Please get out of my car.”

Rachel rolled out of the car like it was about to detonate. In some ways, it was. She quickly deposited her few snacks into her own car and returned the cart to the stack, removing the quarter as it locked into place.

Messing with Charlotte—Charlie, she would have to remember that—was a bad idea, Rachel knew. But she was feeling cheeky, and the other woman had been rude to her for no reason when she’d helped her out.

She didn’t feel that bad when she walked up to the driver’s side of Charlie’s car again. The window was still rolled down. Rachel leaned against the frame and held out her fist for Charlie.

“What the actual fuck do you want from me?” Charlie spat.

Rachel dropped the quarter into her lap and stalked away.

* * *

Jingle around the Block ©2022 by Serena Kirsch

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Serena Kirsch is a contemporary lesfic author who loves sapphic media of all kinds. Her guilty pleasures include The Real Housewives, snuggling her cats, and reading indulgent, trope-filled romance.

Sign up here for Serena Kirsch ’s author newsletter.

AMERICAN SUPERSTAR: TIME TO SHINE BY SHAY PARIS

Blurb:

Lights. Camera. Action!

Lennon Emery had done it! After securing a coveted spot on the American Superstar live shows, Lennon realizes the hard part has only just begun. Nine weeks of live performances in front of thousands of people – if she makes it that far! You would think that nine weeks cut off from the real world and real problems would sound like a holiday, but with production playing nasty games and a contestant out for her blood, Lennon soon realizes she’s signed up for more than she bargained for.

Of course, there was also the problem of her heart pounding crush on her mentor, Camila Bianchi. Still desperately maintaining her straight façade, Lennon’s desires are put to the test as she truly begins to question the secretive world she lives in.

Still trying to win back favor with her label, Camila is on the road with American Superstar as a mentor for the under thirties. Camila was doing everything right. Smiling when she had to, and building killer performances for her contestants. Everything was perfect – except for her infatuation with her contestant, Lennon Emery. Trying to maintain the boundaries they both agreed on, Camila is torn between doing what is right or going all in and taking what she desires most – Lennon.

A romance on the road never hurt anyone…right?

Tell us about this scene:

This scene is set the morning after Lennon's second last performance on the American Superstar show. Both Lennon and Camila are finally ready to admit their feeling for each other.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Writing this scene was like releasing a breath of air I had been holding onto for the last three years. The story of Lennon Emery and Camila Bianchi has been budding within me for so long that I wondered if I would ever make it to this point.

Both characters were finally ready to let go and be real – writing it was such a calming experience.

For Lennon, admitting her feelings for Camila meant much more than telling a woman she liked her. Lennon knows that making that admission would mean they would be pursuing this relationship publicly. As Lennon has not come out, this is a huge deal. Lennon has never allowed herself to feel this deeply for another woman – ever. She acknowledges that she feels safe with Camila and is ready to take that huge step in her life, accepting who she is regardless of the consequences.

Camila had feelings for Lennon that she hadn’t been able to explain. Since day one, she had been sucked into Lennon Emery’s snare, and she didn’t know what to do or how to handle it. She had relationships with women before, but the feelings Lennon evoked from her were nothing she had ever experienced.

Camila is a character who has had to be on guard and protect herself from public scrutiny, smile when she doesn’t want to, and do whatever she needs to in order to keep her job. With Lennon, all her walls can come down, and her fears are accepted. Her past is accepted. Lennon provides this safe space that just lets Camila be…

They were finally coming together and putting a label on their feelings.

It felt real to me, writing it. The slow burn and the questioning in those early days of a relationship. Your feelings are in hyperdrive, and you’re trying to get a handle on them…until it becomes too much, and you let them out.

Writing this moment, in this way, keeps up with their intimate theme of who they are as a couple…you know, until what comes after that final line.

* * *

Excerpt:

Her smell filled my senses as I woke up to a faceful of her hair, but I couldn’t complain. She smelled delectable, and I knew I wouldn’t want to wake up any other way. I could tell she was still asleep by the steadiness in her breaths and the completely relaxed feel of her body under my arm.

I sighed with contentment and kept my eyes closed, my mind running over the previous night and her performance.

She had surprised even me – that was for sure. She had reached highs we hadn’t even practiced. It was as if there had been a piece of herself that she was holding back, and she finally just let go and let it out, and fuck, when she let it out…

It had taken almost half an hour to calm the audience down after she had left the stage. Alyssa hadn’t even been able to interview her over the roar or ask us any questions. 

Belinda may have already locked Lennon in as her winner, but even if she hadn’t, Lennon would have won the show regardless. 

We hadn’t spoken to each other last night when we had finally gotten alone together. It had been a night filled with unbridled passion and emotion – no words were needed between us. Her performance had said it all. How she looked at me took away any doubt or question between us.

We both knew what we wanted, and I knew I was seriously falling for her. 

I would have her back one hundred percent when she came out after the show. I would help guide her through it and make it as painless as possible. I couldn’t stand the idea of her facing any sort of hurt, even though I knew it was coming. I just wanted to wrap her up and hide her from it, to snap my fingers and have it all be okay. 

Lennon stirred beside me, the softness of her skin pressed against mine, causing butterflies to pool in my stomach as I decided I would tell her how I felt.

Then it would be up to her to decide which way she wanted to take this.

I had spent too much of my life not saying how I truly felt, and I lost moments and people I might not have if I had opened my mouth. I was too old to play games and waste time.

“Mmm,” Lennon mumbled into my arm, nuzzling her head into it. 

“Good morning,” I whispered into her ear, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. 

“Morning,” she sighed as she tugged my arm tighter around her stomach. “Time is it?”

I looked over my shoulder to catch the clock. “Half four,” I told her softly and she sighed heavily. 

“I have to go soon,” she whined as she rolled in my arms, stuffing her face into my neck, and I ran my hand down the bare skin of her back, enjoying the feel of her skin beneath them. “That feels good,” she breathed tiredly. 

I repeated the motion as my nerves built, my mouth going dry at my soon admission.

How would she take it?

“Lennon?” I whispered as I continued to graze my hand. 

“Mmm?”

“I think you’re one of the strongest, bravest people I know,” I murmured, feeling a slither of confidence. “Ever since I met you…there was something…something that pulled me to you, that drew me in, in a way I can’t explain.”

She remained silent, but I could feel her eyelashes blinking against the skin of my neck. 

“You have already gone through so much, and there’s so much more to come, but I know you have it handled.” I swallowed nervously, my palms sweating, and I worried she would feel it. “I-I want this – us – I want to keep…I want to be with you outside of the show. I – I want you to be mine…” my voice broke from nerves. “I want to be yours.”

I heard the small intake of her breath, and she slowly pulled back from me, blinking her eyes up at mine, her lips slightly parted in the most enticing way. 

“I’m falling for you, Lennon,” I told her honestly. “Hard.”

Lennon’s eyes searched mine for a moment, and relief crossed her face. Her hand came up to cup my cheek, her thumb stroking along my cheekbone, and my eyes fluttered closed. 

“I’m falling too,” she admitted gently. “I have been trying to work out my feelings about us for a while. I know that I want you outside of this bubble and in reality. You have given me so much courage to embrace myself…built a confidence in me I didn’t know that I had…I want this.”

Thank God, I groaned inwardly as the tension left my body.

Her lips met mine with purpose as she drew my head down, carefully moving me on top of her as she kissed me thoroughly as if she were memorizing every single detail of my mouth. I moved to hover slightly above her, moving my knee between us, pressing it against her, and she gasped into my mouth, her hands grazing down my back, her nails leaving a trail of pleasure.

Sliding my tongue between her lips and grounding my knee into her, she gasped and arched into me, her breasts brushing mine, and jolts of pleasure shot down my spine, neither of us holding back our feelings, no barriers or walls between us anymore.

It was fucking exquisite.

* * *

American Superstar: Time to Shine ©2022 by Shay Paris

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Shay Paris is a sapphic author from Perth, Western Australia. She has been writing and publishing indie books since she was nineteen. For Shay, writing is not a chore or a job; it's an escape to another world and a chance to share her many worlds with others.

Sign up here for Shay Paris ’s author newsletter.

WHEN WE'RE MEANT TO BE BY SKYE VON TRIESSEN

Blurb:

When Dr. Alexandra Edison’s world was ripped apart, the last thing she expected was to end up in a casual affair with Blake Westmore. Soon after she was forced to choose between her past and her present, when her strong sense of obligation forced her to leave the woman whom she shared one of the most unforgettable experiences with, and head back to L.A. to help the woman who broke her heart. At that moment, it didn’t seem like she had a choice. She did what she thought was right, even if nothing felt right about it. Life made choices for her, which she had no control over, or did she?

Dr. Blake Westmore allowed Alexandra to walk away from her without putting up a fight. She felt she had no choice but to accept Alexandra’s decision. Will she just allow Alexandra to leave her behind, or will she realize that she made a big mistake in letting her go, without telling her how she feels about her? Did she really have a say in the decision that life had made for them in some ways? Nothing felt right or fair about life just intervening and ripping from her grasp, what could quite possibly be the best thing that had ever happened to her.

So, the questions remain. What will both women do? Will Alexandra remain in L.A. with the woman who broke her heart or will she return to the one who had healed her broken heart? Will Blake go after Alexandra or will she just let her go without a fight? The even bigger question is, will they get their happily ever after? More importantly, will their happily ever after be together? In the end, life will make choices for them and maybe it was just not meant to be, or was it?

Tell us about this scene:

Blake confessed to Alexandra that she didn't think she wanted or needed love until she met her.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Love, understanding, vulnerability and never giving up.

Blake had always been in control of her feelings. She never thought she wanted or needed love until Alexandra. The scene showed Blake laying herself bare to Alexandra as the love she felt for Alexandra overwhelmed her. A love she didn’t think she was worthy of in many ways. The scene highlighted that even when a person thinks they don’t need or want love when they meet the right person there is nothing, they can do to control the love that consumes them. It shows how love can change a person and the life they lived before paled in comparison to the one they now share with someone whom they love and who loves them back.

The scene also highlighted what in my opinion is one of the key ingredients in any successful relationship: Understanding one’s partner. Sometimes people fall in love but they don’t understand who their partner is at their core. I believe it’s very important for partners to understand each other because if you understand your partner it can lead to fewer conflicts. After all, you would know exactly why they did or said something. In this scene, Alexandra exemplified understanding when she explained to Blake that she believed Blake’s relationship with her mom was the reason why Blake thought she wasn’t worthy of being loved. She then told Blake that she wouldn’t force her to talk about her past until she was ready because she understood that it wasn’t easy for Blake to talk about her feelings.

The scene also showed both main characters being extremely vulnerable with each other because of the love they felt for each other at that moment. Both women have strong personalities and even though Alexandra had been hurt before she wasn’t afraid to love again without fear and allowed herself to be vulnerable with Blake without worrying about being hurt again. It’s important to always give love a chance because sometimes our happily ever after isn’t with the first person we fell in love with, or the second. Or the third.

* * *

Excerpt:

Blake pulled back, taking Alexandra’s hand, and placed it over her heart. “What are you doing to me?” she whispered as eyes, filled with so much love and a bit of fear, bored into Alexandra. “The things you make me feel. The constant need. Feel my heart, baby. It dances in my chest when you touch me. When you just look at me. When I simply just think about you.”

Alexandra couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. Hearing Blake bare her soul to her, opened up the floodgates to her own feelings. Because her love for Blake overwhelmed and scared her at times. The unquenchable need. The constant longing, even when they were together. It was like the woman wrapped herself around her heart every day, squeezing everything before her out and filling it with only her love.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, as her tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

“I love you more, baby. So much more. Please don’t cry.” Blake enveloped her in a warm hug.

She drew comfort from Blake’s embrace. She wasn’t sure how long they just stood there holding each other under the warm spray of the shower. Luckily, her penthouse came with endless hot water. How did she get so lucky? To have found such a profound love after suffering a heartbreak that left her shattered. A heartbreak that the woman holding her healed.

“Let’s get you into bed.” Blake dried her hair and wrapped the towel around her body. Alexandra felt like a little baby being pampered by Blake.

They settled into the bed, naked, facing each other. Soft fingers traced every inch of her skin, leaving goosebumps all over her body. Despite the mind-blowing orgasm earlier that left her weak, she felt her need building from having Blake’s touch scorching her skin. The suggestiveness of each caress and the look in Blake’s eyes indicated she wasn’t alone in her increasing state of arousal.

Blake’s eyes, though filled with lust, grew somber. “I never thought I’d find someone like you. I didn’t even know I wanted someone like you…wanted what I’ve found with you. I told you before, but you’re everything I never knew I needed. I hope I’ve made you as happy as you’ve made me. I’m still new at this relationship thing, but I hope I’m doing okay.”

Why is it so hard for her to see how wonderful a partner she is? It’s like behind all that confidence and cool demeanor, Blake believed she wasn’t enough. Alexandra caressed Blake’s cheek as she drank in her beauty. She would never tire of just looking at her. Those intense blue eyes that had the ability to hide so much or completely showed her all the love that Blake felt for her. Her fears. Her insecurities about being a good partner.

“More often than not, I find it hard to believe you’ve never had a relationship when you’re so good at it. Effortlessly, I might add. There’s no flare, no fuss. Just you being your kind, sweet, self-assured, yet insecure at times self. You don’t even have to try, because it comes so naturally to you. It’s even sexier knowing you don’t even realize you’re doing anything special, because it’s just who you are. So, yes, baby, you make me so very happy. More than I thought possible after everything I’ve been through.”

Alexandra raised up on her elbow. “But what I think is that whatever happened in the past with your family has affected your perception of your ability to have a relationship. I really do hope that one day you’ll share that part of your life with me so I can understand where all this self-doubt comes from when it comes to you believing you’re a worthy partner. But I know until you’re ready, I can’t force you to talk about it.”

There it was. The walls went right up in front of her at the mention of Blake’s past. But she knew she couldn’t force Blake to open up to her. As much as she wanted to connect with her love in that way, she needed to be patient.

“I love you, Blake Westmore. Please know that you’re more than enough for me. So much more.”

Blake swallowed hard before reaching up, gripping her neck, and pulling her into a hot, demanding kiss. Her tongue invaded Alexandra’s mouth with an urgency completely opposite the tender caresses they shared earlier. Tongues and teeth clashed as Blake pushed her onto her back and settled between her thighs. Blake kissed her as if her life depended on it. Alexandra wondered what in her words triggered this reaction from Blake. It felt like the woman used her mouth to exorcize some demon that Alexandra’s words summoned. When two fingers entered her, she lost all train of thought as Blake’s thrust became just as urgent as her tongue invading her mouth. Alexandra could do nothing but submit to the carnality of the act. She allowed Blake to use her body to pacify whatever troubled her. When her orgasm hit, the last thing she remembered was Blake telling her she loved her.

* * *

When We're Meant to Be ©2022 by Skye Von Triessen

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Skye lives in North York, where she is maybe one of the few who loves the long winter season. Skye spends her days as a corporate analyst and spends her nights dreaming up stories, she desires to put on paper but oftentimes doesn’t.

Sign up here for Skye Von Triessen ’s author newsletter.

REALITY LESBIAN BY Q. KELLY

Blurb:

Lucy Marshall is vying for the heart of Dr. Zara Winters on lesbian reality TV. One big problem, though: Lucy is straight and on the show for reasons that have nothing to do with love. Lucy never expected to fall for Zara, but she has. Can Lucy tell Zara the truth? How will Zara react? What about Zara’s connections with the other contestants, who include a gorgeous international model?

Tell us about this scene:

It is the opening of "Reality Lesbian."

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I like the humor and the tease of possibilities to come.

* * *

Excerpt:

Lucy Marshall had slept with a woman once—a fumbling, drunken encounter in college. Alcohol and ten years had turned Lucy’s memories of the experience into thin, wispy threads, but once in a while, she thought about her mouth on Darcy Clark’s stomach and Darcy’s mouth on Lucy’s breasts. The encounter hadn’t been terrible. In fact, it was quite nice but didn’t change the reality that Lucy liked only men.

Which was why she gaped at her best friend, Henry. “You signed me up for a lesbian dating show?” Lucy sputtered.

Henry grinned. “I sure did.”

“Why?”

“The Bachelor, Survivor, Big Brother, these other shows, they haven’t contacted you, right?” Henry flapped his hand. “I read about this show called Will You Marry Me? It’ll be on that new GLBT cable channel. The show’s kind of like The Bachelor but for gay men and lesbians. I figured our chances of getting on it would be better. Less competition. Smaller applicant pool.”

Lucy grimaced. She loved Henry, she really did, but he had a habit of entering them both for reality shows. He said it was so she wouldn’t be jealous when he ratcheted to movie stardom. Usually, she didn’t mind. She found it kind of endearing. This was different.

“I’m straight, Henry.”

“Pshaw. So are half the applicants, probably. The producers won’t care, and you get a free vacation. Free booze, free food. What’s not to like?”

Lucy arched an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”

“Girl, I applied to be on The Bachelorette. If this queer can play straight on TV, then you can play lesbian.”

“That’s different. You’re in a minority group.”

Henry chuckled. “You overthink. You gotta loosen up.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Lucy said dryly.

“Good girl. I’ll email you a copy of the application I filled out so you know what to say when the show calls.”

Lucy gave her best friend a small smile. She patted Henry on the head and said: “Okay, okay, whatever you insist.” She was safe. The show would never call and ask for an interview. None of the shows did, thank goodness.

***

Two weeks later, Lucy’s cellphone rang, and the caller said his name was Drake Sheldon. He worked as a casting agent for Will You Marry Me? Did Lucy have a few moments for a quick preliminary interview?

“Um.” Lucy mentally stabbed Henry several times over. Damn him for putting her in this position. “Um,” she repeated. “Wow. You know what? I didn’t apply for this show. You must be mistaken.”

“The application says that your best friend Henry Bonfontaine nominated you.” Drake ran through the basics of Will You Marry Me? The first season would feature twelve gay men in Los Angeles competing for love. The season was set to air in July and August on the new Rainbow World cable TV channel. While it aired, season two would enter filming. “We’re going with more contestants this time around,” Drake said. “Ideally, twenty. If you’re chosen, you will compete for the hand of a particularly desirable woman. Filming will take place in upstate New York.”

Lucy found herself somewhat disappointed—and surprised that she was disappointed. It wasn’t like she would do the show, right? “Why isn’t season two in Los Angeles?”

“Listen to this. Camping. Hiking. Softball. Swimming. Upstate New York is perfect. Who needs L.A., right?” Lucy practically heard the smile in Drake’s voice as he upheld lesbian stereotypes. “The show pays all your travel expenses. Your food. Lodging, accommodations. Every red cent.”

* * *

Reality Lesbian ©2013 by Q. Kelly

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Q. Kelly is weird and likes being weird almost as much as she loves corny jokes. Her favorite color is purple, but her writing is gray. Life is not black and white, and she often writes about issues and characters where there is no “right” answer.

FALL INTO ME BY TERRI CUTSHALL

Blurb:

3 Best Friends. 2 Strangers. 1 Unforgettable Night.

Audrey Maddox is fed up with her love life. After discovering her now ex-fiancé had been cheating on her throughout their engagement, vacation with her two best friends cannot come soon enough. She needs a break in a serious way.

Liv Sutton works at a popular Colorado mountain resort providing skiing lessons during the day and bartending at night. Since her divorce, casual relationships have worked just fine for her. She’s not up for getting her heart stomped on again. Once was enough.

Two women in the right place at the right time. Will a casual fling be the tonic that soothes Audrey's broken heart and keeps Liv going? Or will a one-night stand become more than either of them bargained for?

Tell us about this scene:

Vacationing in Colorado, USA with her friends, Audrey meets and has a one night stand with Liv, an employee of the ski resort where they are staying. Compelled to see Liv again, Audrey finds ways to spend more time with her. In this scene Audrey and Liv are spending the day together and Liv is showing Audrey some of her favorite spots on the mountain.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is my favorite scene in Fall into Me because it’s the moment that shifts Audrey and Liv’s physical relationship into something deeper and more meaningful. It’s the moment of revelation and awareness for Audrey that her feelings toward Liv are changing into something more romantically beautiful. She’s allowing herself to open up, if only a little bit, and see Liv as she really is. It’s in that moment that I believe she begins to realize what an important part Liv could play in her damaged life, if only she figures out how to let it happen.

I re-wrote this scene during editing (to the total displeasure of my editor). I’m a pantser and I rarely capture the true essence of each scene during the first (or even third, haha) go-round. Sometimes it’s not until later in the process, when the story is more fully formed and when the characters seem to move and act independently of me that their truth is revealed.

This is one of those scenes. One night I found myself awake at 2am, sitting at my computer, feverishly recrafting this scene on the mountain top from Audrey’s point of view because she had more to say (and feel).

Am I ever glad she did! I hope readers enjoy it too!

* * *

Excerpt:

It was well after noon before they were fully dressed in winter gear to bear the brunt of the cold temperature and wind on the snowmobile ride to the top of the mountain. Ski suits covered both of their bodies. Liv’s choice this time was one without the Sutton logo. Pulling a red scarf from a peg behind the front door, Liv wrapped it around Audrey’s neck. The intimate gesture gave Audrey an unexpected opportunity to stare at Liv’s face and watch the deliberation of care on her features as she bundled her up tight. Liv’s full lips were set in concentration before she leaned back and caught her eye. Audrey felt a wave of silent acceptance pass between them.

“Ready?” Liv asked.

Audrey nodded before they walked out the door to face the cold.

The wind was tolerable at the top of the mountain after being exposed to a much more intense level of it on the ride up. Liv shut off the engine, grabbed a backpack from under the seat and guided them to the mountain’s peak. Audrey stood silently as she scanned the vast mountain view and took in the natural beauty that surrounded them. Thousands of tiny crystals glistened from the snow topped peaks. Taking a deep breath, she pulled in as much of the crisp, fresh air as her lungs could hold. 

Turning, she found Liv watching her. “Hi, you.”

“Hey.”

“You weren’t kidding. It’s beautiful up here.”

“Beautiful, indeed.” Liv’s gaze was fixed on Audrey. “The view is amazing too.”

Audrey tilted her head as Liv stepped closer. She didn’t know if it was from the brilliant colors in the sky or from her newfound feelings toward Liv that reflected the intense blue in Liv’s gaze back at her, but it riveted her in place. 

Mesmerized, her breath momentarily caught as Liv took another step closer and pulled off a glove to caress her cheek. Audrey leaned into its warmth and felt the heat travel into her chest fueling a faster heartbeat. Liv bent her head ever so slowly and Audrey had never felt the anticipation of a kiss more profoundly. Her whole body stood at the ready for the feel of Liv’s soft lips on hers. Her mind went blank except for being acutely aware of the warmth cradling her face, being held in place by the depth of those blue eyes and wanting, more than anything else, to feel the connection and intimacy of this moment. 

Liv’s lips found hers and the kiss conveyed an unspoken promise her whole being accepted in a heartbeat. And it was more powerful than even her imagination could conjure. 

Liv pulled back enough to look at her again, the same look Liv gave her in the cabin when she wrapped the scarf around her neck. Audrey suddenly felt her eyes prickle with tears and a wave of possibility bubble up in her chest. Hope sprung to the surface and elation washed over her. She felt loved and it shook her to her very core.

“Are you okay?” Liv asked.

Audrey nodded slowly. “Yeah, I just…I’ve just never met anyone quite like you before. I’m feeling overwhelmed right now. You’re so…hmm…” She paused searching for the right words, “so incredible?”

Liv’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You sound like you’re not sure about that.”

“No, I am…I’m just having a hard time believing it, I guess.”

“You’re having a hard time believing you feel this way or you’re having a hard time believing I could be a good person?” Liv’s expression turned incredulous.

Audrey chuckled. “I’m obviously having a hard time expressing myself.” Audrey tugged on the sleeves of Liv’s jacket. “What I’m trying to say is that you are kind, funny, smart, and so full of energy. I’ve just never met anyone who has all of this”—Audrey waved her finger at Liv from head to toe—“in one place.”

“I don’t know what to say, other than what you see is what you get.”

“I really like what I see.” The words fell out of Audrey’s mouth before she could do anything about it. She stepped forward and placed a kiss on Liv’s lips.

“That was a roundabout way to give me a compliment,” Liv whispered into Audrey’s lips.

“I thought you were uncomfortable with compliments.”

“I’m practicing.”

Audrey felt Liv’s lips curve into a grin. “Well, then, I love your face. How’s that for a compliment?”

Audrey’s pulse quickened as she heard the word, love, float through the air. The look in Liv’s eyes when it landed riveted her in place, once again.

Liv’s smile reached from ear to ear. “Just my face?”

Audrey smacked Liv on the arm. “Now you’re fishing.”

“I’m a quick study.”

Oh, for the love of all things, God help me, Audrey thought.

“Just so you know, I really like being seen by you.” Liv stepped back and let the pack fall from her shoulder, then she unzipped the main pouch. “I brought you something.” She pulled out a thermos and unscrewed the top. Hot liquid poured into the lid and Audrey involuntarily closed her eyes when the smell of sweet chocolate reached her nose. 

“When did you find time to make this?” she asked as she took the cup from Liv.

“When you were in the shower.”

“You do realize you’ve ruined me now, don’t you? No one else stands a chance.”

“This is just regular hot chocolate.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Audrey moaned in delight at the flavor, noticing Liv’s smile.

“The weekend isn’t over yet,” Liv said. 

* * *

Fall into Me ©2022 by Terri Cutshall

Published by Write Way Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Terri Cutshall is an extroverted introvert. Born and raised in Pennsylvania, Terri was surrounded by a family of story-tellers – three generations laughing and telling tall tales during backyard picnics. When not working or writing, she enjoys time with her family, her dogs, her horse and traveling.

REBEL SWEETHEART BY SYDNEY CANYON

Blurb:

When a headstrong, country music superstar starts getting threatening letters while on tour, her manager has no other choice but to hire someone to investigate the threats, and keep her safe.

Haley Nielsen is as stubborn as it gets. She does things her way, and her way only. The last thing she needs or wants is a babysitter following her every move and controlling everything she does.

Shane Crowley isn’t your typical private investigator, or bodyguard, for that matter. She’s a former U.S. Deputy Marshal with a lot of experience, and an all or nothing attitude.

Tempers flare and the energy burns red hot between the two women as they spend weeks together cooped up on Haley’s tour bus, traveling the country. Will they stop resisting each other long enough to see eye to eye? Or will the letter writer make good on his threats?

Tell us about this scene:

The two main characters are at Haley's home following a horrible tragedy that has thrown them even closer together.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I chose this scene as my favorite because the way Shane understands Haley’s pain and unspoken need, having gone through a tragic loss herself, is beautiful and powerful. I felt heavy with empathy and full of emotion as I wrote this portion of the story through tear-filled eyes.

* * *

Excerpt:

Around two a.m., Shane was awoken by the soft sound of a piano. She had no idea where it was coming from, but assumed Haley was up, burning the midnight oil, something she’d done just about every single night on the bus. Although, it seemed to be more of a struggle than anything else…wholeheartedly blamed on Shane’s presence. She wondered if it was the comfort of home allowing her to work. Nevertheless, she got out of bed, pulled on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, and walked out of her room. The sound seemed to be coming from downstairs. She crept down slowly, hoping the old stairs didn’t creak. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb her and cause another riff. She navigated the first floor in the dark, letting the sound of the piano guide her. She finally came to a stop outside of what she believed was probably the music room Haley had mentioned earlier. She didn’t dare go in. Instead, she leaned against the wall a few feet away from the door, listening as Haley played the melody and softly sang the lyrics of Nothing Compares 2 U, written by Prince and made famous by Sinead O’Connor. She didn’t have to see her face to know that Haley was crying. Her usual sound of smoky blues mixed with country twang, was laced with tears. Shane squeezed her eyes closed, feeling the words cut to her soul as Haley sang them. She wished she could take away her pain. She knew all too well the feeling of being so riddled with guilt that you were broken inside.

When Haley finished the song, she let the piano go silent. Then, she wiped the tears from her face and put her hands back over the ivory keys once more. Before she could start playing, the wood floor creaked in the hallway, scaring her half to death. Realizing she wasn’t alone, she froze like a deer in headlights, afraid to move, and nearly unable to swallow the golf ball sized lump in her throat. “Damn it,” she mumbled, remembering her houseguest. “Sneaking around at night is a good way to get shot in the backwoods of Tennessee,” she called out.

“Shit,” Shane whispered, angry at the old board under her foot. “I’m sorry,” she said, walking into the room. “I heard the piano and—”

“I seriously doubt the letter writer is going to break in and play this old thing,” Haley said, getting up from her seat at the beautiful, polished mahogany, baby grand piano.

“I really wasn’t trying to disturb you.”

Haley nodded.

“I just…I know what it’s like to lose someone close to you,” Shane said softly as she moved to walk out of the room.

Haley reached out, meeting her gaze with tear-filled eyes.

Throwing caution to the wind, Shane wrapped her arms around her, taking heed at the way Haley’s body fit with hers. Warm tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto the skin of Shane’s neck where Haley’s face was nuzzled against her. Shane tried not to feel the blood rushing south, but there was no use. Her mind had betrayed her as soon as she’d inhaled the lingering floral scent of Haley’s shampoo and felt the warm body against her own. She tried to pull away far enough to put some space between them, but Haley’s lips moved up Shane’s neck, meeting hers in a passionate, yet delicately slow, kiss that made Shane weak in the knees. She knew she should stop this. Haley wasn’t thinking, she was just reacting with emotion. But Shane became powerless as Haley’s tongue slipped between her lips, grazing her own. Whether it was meaningless sex, a one-night stand, or the biggest mistake of her life, Shane had no choice but to let it happen. All rational thought went out the window like a trail of cigarette smoke as Haley reached under Shane’s shirt. Warm hands moved up her back, removing the garment at the same time, revealing breasts that were on the smaller side, but perfect for Shane’s trim figure.

Haley broke the kiss as she dropped the shirt on the floor. Her eyes traced a path down Shane’s body as Shane grabbed the edge of the old Van Halen t-shirt Haley was wearing, pulling it easily up over her head. Perky round breasts, a cup size larger than Shane’s, bounced free. Shane’s eyes met Haley’s. Her watery tears were gone, but the sadness remained. No words were spoken as her gaze lingered, waiting for Haley to either keep going or walk away. She barely waited a full second, before Haley moved into her arms once more, pressing her lips to Shane’s and melding their bodies together.

Haley was too far gone to think about who she was with. She just wanted to feel, and Shane’s warm skin felt delectably good against hers. She ran her hands along Shane’s shoulders and down her sides, coming to rest at her hips and tucking her thumbs under the waistband of her joggers. 

* * *

Rebel Sweetheart ©2019 by Sydney Canyon

Published by Triplicity Publishing, LLC

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Sydney enjoys reading everything from magazines to historical books and boasts about her massive collection of paperbacks and hardbacks in her personal library. She's also a huge fan of multiple TV shows, which she says take up too much of her time. She enjoys writing novellas and is the author of the bestselling novellas: One Night and Shadow's Eyes. Second Chance and Rebel Sweetheart are her full length, printed novels.

SPRINKLED IN THE STARS BY VIOLET MORLEY

Blurb:

AJ Beckett is just trying to get Parker, her seven-year-old autistic daughter, through life in one piece. As a paramedic, AJ puts others’ needs above her own; in her personal life, she keeps everyone an arm’s length away. That distance disappears when a chance run-in with actor Melanie Cooper leaves her sticky, angry, and fed up.

Melanie Cooper has just signed her last movie. The media keeps portraying her as cold and hard to work with, and Mel has absolutely nothing more to give. As she begins to imagine a new life, a challenging part of her past comes back on the scene, determined to cause problems for Mel.

After a series of coincidental meetings, AJ battles her desire for control while Mel struggles with trust. Despite the challenges and complications, Mel finds herself drawn to the Beckett ladies, and AJ can’t deny their connection, either.

Falling in love has never been so sweet.

Tell us about this scene:

This scene is were Melanie meets AJ's daughter, Parker for the first time. It shows the connection she has with the child, right away.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It's hard to pick a favorite, but I love this one for a few reasons. The first one is because I think it shows the compassion and complexity of two characters who are misunderstood but seem to understand each other perfectly. The other reason I like it starts a little dark and mysterious. However, the deeper the scene goes, reveals more layers that set up interactions for the rest of the book.

* * *

Excerpt:

The pounding in Mel’s head matched the beat of the music playing and was getting overwhelming. She had talked, mingled, eaten, and smiled her way through the room and had almost hit a wall of exhaustion. She went to seek her brother out to let him know she was leaving.

“No, sorry, Mel, not yet. There are a few things that still need to happen, and you have to be here.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “There’s a quiet room down the hall if you need a few minutes.” He pointed behind her.

“Thank you,” she said, practically running to the room. She wouldn’t have made it any longer without respite.

Mel slowly opened the door to the dark room and let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. The room appeared to be an office of some kind, with a desk and comfy-looking chair. A window was casting shadows in the darkness, and when a car went by, illuminating the room in a flood of light before darkness enveloped again, she gasped. She wasn’t alone. There was a child curled up on a couch. A small reading light seemed to bob in thin air but cast a gentle glow over the pages in a book.

“Please don’t turn on the light. It will give me a headache,” the child said without looking up from her book.

“I wasn’t planning on it. My brother said I could use this room to take a few minutes. Would you mind if I stayed?” Mel backed away from the door, not sure how to handle the child.

“I don’t mind if you stay, but try and be quiet. It’s too loud out there, and I’m at an excellent part in this book.” She was lying on her side with her arm tucked under her chin. It appeared she was close to the end of the story. 

Mel was impressed by the thickness of the book for such a small child. She didn’t respond, not wanting to interrupt the child’s reading, and made her way to the chair behind the desk. She scrunched her shoulders when the chair creaked loudly under her weight, but the kid didn’t even look up.

Another car went by, and she swiveled the chair to face the sidewall. She read the motivational posters that lined the wall as her thoughts wandered. She finally felt the stress of the night seep into the floor as each quiet second passed.

“Thank you for letting me finish. I’m Parker. Mom says I shouldn’t be in rooms alone with strangers.” Mel flinched, not realizing Parker had gotten up from the couch. She was now standing near her, with her hand out.

“Oh. I’m Mel.” She reached out and shook her hand up and down once before letting go. “That’s smart of your mom.” She nodded, looking towards what she now dubbed in her mind her thinking wall.

“Oh, you’re the lady.” 

Mel looked back at the now excited voice of the child. “The what?” Mel tilted her head, trying to think of what she meant.

“Yeah, the lady in the magazine.” Parker was now bouncing on her feet and nodding enthusiastically.

Mel shrugged. Yeah, she supposed that’s how Parker would know her, and she’d graced many magazine pages over the years. She looked down at the tiny Converse the child was wearing. “Your shoe is untied.”

Parker looked down and frowned. “Can you tie it? I know how, but when I get excited and extra bouncy, it’s hard for me sometimes.” Parker stuck her foot towards Mel. Mel didn’t want the child to become embarrassed. She knelt in front of Parker, avoiding eye contact, and tied her shoe. The slight clicking of a fidget spinner whooshed near her ear. Both heads swiveled towards the door when it swung open.

A lady was standing in the doorway, and to Mel, she looked like a superhero. Her body was framed in the doorway, and a car drove by, lighting up the room, which created an aura of power around the new woman. Mel almost reached out to see if she was real before shaking her head and shyly smiling.

“Parker, sweetie, it’s time to go.” Her voice was melodic, and she had an imposing mamma bear attitude that was impressive to Mel. The woman nodded once, and with her daughter in tow, she left just as quickly as she came in.

The interaction left Melanie a little tongue-tied, and she wondered if she had fallen asleep for a second. She looked down, and her eyes fell to the book that Parker had been reading. In a hurry, she must have forgotten it. Mel grabbed it and hurried to try and find Parker.

Mel’s shoulders slumped when she saw the tiny Converse shoe of Parker climbing into the back of a large Jeep. She had rushed outside, and as the flashing bulbs lit up the car, Mel could see the narrowed eyes of the driver. It looked like she was looking directly into her soul and didn’t like what she saw.

* * *

Sprinkled in the Stars ©2021 by Violet Morley

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Violet Morley grew up in Sitka Alaska. She decided to trade rain and trees for trees and rain by moving to Washington, where she resides with her wife and pets.

When she isn’t writing, she’s getting lost in Sapphic books, especially since they don’t require her to leave the house.

Sign up here for Violet Morley ’s author newsletter.

NEVER AGAIN BY TERESA PURKIS

Blurb:

Never Again follows Bren on her healing journey of discovery.

After Bren had been wrongly accused of inappropriate behaviour, and with her teaching career in ruins, she has returned home, defeated and penniless, to look after her infirm, bigoted father. During the six years she has been back, Bren has immersed all her pent-up emotions into her writing.

Marie is a presenter on the local radio station, and is in the middle of a messy divorce from her wife. She will do anything to honour the prenup she signed.

Bren uses The Perfect Blend coffeehouse to launch her latest novel. Marie covers the launch, but her boss has manipulated the recording, casting Bren in an unfavourable light. Demanding an on-air apology, Bren agrees to meet Marie, having vowed never again to be bullied.

Will Bren start to trust once more and will Marie’s integrity win through? Will a path be smoothed towards their goals? Or will outside influences scupper both their chances for happiness?

Tell us about this scene:

Bren has found letters that her mother wrote every week during the first year after she had left six-year-old Bren, and realises she wasn't abandoned. Bren also needs help running the book club she runs in The Perfect Blend coffeehouse after her accident and arranges to meet Sandy, Del’s Mum.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I like a happy ever after. I like twists and turns that keep the reader on their toes. I also want to give my characters depth so they become your friends.

I knew this was the scene I was heading towards prior to the first words of the prologue even being written. I hoped that I was putting enough hints in previous scenes to make it happen in the way I wanted it to. And yet this scene is not about the romance between Bren and Marie, the two main characters in the book, but about a stranger who volunteers to help out.

Because a romance isn't just about two people, it must be about their lives as well. About how their pasts and the experiences they have gone through make them the person they are today. That their previous experiences often cloud their judgement and perceptions of life and love. It is about the baggage they carry around, and it is that said baggage that makes them the person they have become. It may also be about what is needed to make that person whole.

When I introduced Bren to my readers in The Perfect Blend I knew there was a whole back story to this secondary character that needed to be revealed. She took over my thoughts, but The Perfect Blend wasn't about her love story. So these thoughts rested on the back burner with enough suggestions that something more could be happening, and may be revealed at a later date.

And so in Never Again Bren takes the lead and her story is told. The story runs concurrently, with the same timeline and mostly the same characters as The Perfect Blend, yet it can be read as a stand-alone.

Writing the scene was difficult. It had taken me eighteen months, from the time of conception, when the thought first entered my head, to the time when I was ready to write the scene.

I wanted to do it justice and I hope I have.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Hi, I’m Georgina, co-owner of this establishment. I hear you will step into the breach to help with the book club next week.”

“Hi Georgina, I’m Del’s Mum. She asked me to help her and Izzy with the book club. I don’t know why they want me there. I’m sure they could run the session, but I suppose it is quite daunting. I’ll stay in the background, ready to step in if needed.”

“Did I hear you say you would like a latte?” Georgina asked.

“Please.”

“It’s on the house for stepping in.”

“You don’t….” Sandy started to object.

“I can, and I will.” Georgina interrupted as she moved back towards the counter.

Bren explained how she set up the evening and said she would email the questions she had asked the members to think about. Bren gave a small laugh, “The hardest part is keeping them on task.”

“Here’s the latte,” Georgina said, placing the drink before Sandy.

“Thank you.” Sandy looked around the room and exclaimed, “I like the new paintwork, and I love the puns written above the scuff boards.”

“That was all Bren’s work. They worked on the puns in the very first creative writing session. We now have a waiting list to join.” Georgina said proudly.

Bren felt her cheeks redden. 

“I also like the homely feel over there with the soft seats and low-level coffee tables.”

“A friend of Laura’s suggested it, but it took us years to be able to afford the new furniture. We’re now on our fourth incarnation.”

Sandy smiled.

Georgina frowned at the smile. “Do I know you?”

Sandy smiled again, “You used to. I was the friend who suggested the soft seating. I’m glad to see that it came to fruition.”

Georgina’s frown deepened, trying to think back through the years.

“How is Laura?” Sandy asked.

Georgina’s voice hitched as she replied, “I’m sorry, but Laura died nearly a year ago.”

Sandy’s hand went to her mouth, “I’m so sorry. I know how close the pair of you were.”

“We were, sort of.” Georgina paused for a moment. “And you say your name is Sandy. I’m sorry, but I can’t remember you, and I’ve never heard the name Sandy before.”

Bren looked between the two women, fascinated as they reviewed their memories, as old recollections surfaced. Bren lifted her mug to her lips.

“Back then, people called me Alex.”

Bren gasped. The mug slipped from Bren’s hand, and coffee spilt into Bren’s lap as the mug dropped and smashed on the floor.

Georgina and Sandy turned to look at Bren. 

“Are you okay?” Georgina took the tea towel from her apron and started dabbing at the coffee. 

Catherine came from behind the counter armed with a dustpan and brush

“You look pale,” Catherine said to Bren. “Do you feel faint? Have you overdone it today? I know this is your first time out.”

Bren appeared to be in shock as she stared at the woman sitting opposite her.

“Bren, are you okay?” Georgina asked again.

Bren spoke to Sandy. “Did you say people knew you as Alex? Can you tell me what your first name is in full?”

“Yes,” Sandy replied, then asked, “Why?”

“Out of curiosity,” Bren replied cryptically.

“Alexandra.” 

“And your maiden name?”

Sandy frowned. “Why all the questions?”

Bren’s eyes pleaded with Sandy, “I need to know?”

Georgina pulled over a chair, sat beside Bren, and took Bren’s hands.

“She really does need to know,” Georgina said softly to Sandy.

“My maiden name is Smith. My married name is Giles. I have been married for twenty-seven years, and my husband is called Greg. I have two children. You’ve met Del, who’s nineteen, and I have a son, Jack. He’s twenty-six, married to Natasha, and has a beautiful boy, John, who I usually babysit on a Tuesday evening.”

As no further information was forthcoming, the hope in Bren’s eyes quickly vanished, and a look of sadness dulled her eyes. 

“Oh.” 

Georgina squeezed Bren’s hands. She looked at Sandy and said, “I don’t think that is the complete truth, is it?”

“I don’t know what you mean?” Sandy found it challenging to look at Georgina. Instead, her hands played with her mug on the table, twirling the handle around.

“I think you do, and if I am correct, then some harrowing memories have been brought to the fore. Memories that, for self-preservation, you have tried to forget. Yet coming here today has brought those memories into your mind.”

Sandy looked over the table at Georgina and Bren. Tears started to mist her eyes.

Georgina asked, “What has Del told you about Bren?”

“That she’s a writer, and she doesn’t try to belittle them. She always uses their pronoun of choice. And she writes, in their words, crappy romance, not science fiction. But especially, she’s this super cool lesbian. Again their words.”

“So you have no idea who Bren is?”

“None whatsoever.” Sandy’s eyes roamed over Bren’s face. 

“What would you say if I told you Bren’s surname is Blankley.”

The tears, building with the painful memories, burst forth and streamed down her cheeks. Sandy tried to speak, but Bren and Georgina could hear only an anguished cry.

Bren looked at the woman across the table from her. Understanding and enlightenment surfaced, changing disappointments to hope.

“Mum?”

“Alice?”

“It’s Bren, now Mum, Alex, Sandy, whatever.” 

“Since when?” Sandy studied the younger woman and could see her own eyes reflected back.

“Since the day after you left.” Bren pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, mirroring the same action displayed by Sandy.

Georgina rose. She reassured Bren by squeezing her shoulder as she walked around the table to Sandy. She rested a hand on Sandy’s shoulders and said quietly, “Go sit in that chair and hug your daughter. I think you have lots to talk about.”

* * *

Never Again ©2022 by Teresa Purkis

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Teresa Purkis is from Bristol, England. She has been with her Civil Partner for over thirty years. She taught PE and Mathematics and since retiring she has published seven novels. Teresa spends her spare time playing lawn bowls and singing in her local women’s choir.

OTHER GIRLS BY AVERY BROOKS

Blurb:

One woman must confront her emotional demons if she’s going to open her heart to love again.

Once upon a time, Sam and Ashley were other girls...

Three years after the loss of her wife to a brain aneurysm, 34-year-old Samantha Parker focuses her energy on caring for her young son, Jake. She can’t imagine ever falling in love again, so she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other and being the best mom she can be. It’s not a perfect life, but as long as her son is happy and her softball team keeps winning, everything is fine. That is, until Ashley Valence, the girl who bullied Sam throughout high school, moves back to New Orleans and joins the softball team. As tensions rise on the field, unexpected chemistry between the two women begins to grow.

No matter how much Sam wants to hate Ashley for the pain and anguish those teenage taunts caused, Ashley’s eyes hold only warmth now. And, as Sam slowly introduces Ashley into her life with Jake, she begins to let go of the past. But when Sam begins to realize that she’s fallen in love with Ashley, she has to decide if she can truly trust her heart and find happiness with the woman who once hurt her so deeply.

Tell us about this scene:

This scene is from Chapter 2 of Other Girls and shows the relationship between Sam and her best friend, Drea, while introducing the reader to Ashley Valence, Sam's high school bully who has recently moved back to New Orleans.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is one of my favorite scenes because it shows Sam and Drea’s relationship and their sense of humor while also setting up the main conflict of the story, Sam’s high school bully returning to New Orleans, and the effect that has on Sam and Drea.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Here’s to friends, Fridays, and freakin’ tequila,” Drea said with a raised glass.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Sam said, clinking her glass with Drea’s. 

They had been coming to Charlie’s for years. At first glance, it was the usual dive bar—dim lighting, a couple of pool tables and dart boards in the back—but it was one of the longest-running gay bars in New Orleans. Over the years it had accumulated a loyal group of patrons who kept it in business and supported each other. For Sam, it was a second home, a place where she could relax and be herself. It didn’t hurt that Charlie’s had some of the best margaritas in town.

“So, how was your week?” Drea asked, after a generous sip from her agave margarita.

“I was ready for this drink on Monday,” Sam deadpanned. She licked some salt off the rim of her cocktail glass and took another sip, closing her eyes, savoring it. “Damn, that’s good.”

“Any other run-ins with your favorite old pal?” Drea flashed a mischievous grin. 

Sam rolled her eyes and blew out a breath. “No, thank god. I’m hoping this city is big enough that I won’t see her again before she rolls back out of town . . . and I hope that’s soon. It was a shock to see her, but with any luck, it will be another twenty years before—” Sam stopped mid-sentence and felt the blood drain from her face. 

A very attractive, tall blonde woman in black leather pants that left little to the imagination strode across the room toward the bar, leaving a wave of turning heads in her wake.  

Drea turned in her chair to follow Sam’s gaze, then looked back at Sam, wide-eyed. “Holy shit! That’s not her, is it?” Sam couldn’t find words, which gave Drea her answer. “Dammmnnn,” Drea said with raised brows, “time has been good to her.”

Sam stared at her drink, twirling it absent-mindedly, the shock of seeing Ashley again suffocating any thoughts she held moments prior. 

Drea fought to get Sam’s attention back by telling her about a prank she had pulled on her new intern at work, but Sam found it almost impossible to be present. Her attention was drawn to the small table across the room where Ashley Valence sat with the blonde woman from the other night. 

Why the hell was she here? It had taken Sam so long to let go of her high school memories and Ashley’s torment. And they were memories no part of her wanted to relive. She was a different person now—stronger, more aware—and just fine with her current existence, domestic as it was. 

When Ashley’s gaze met hers, Sam quickly looked away. It was too late though. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” she murmured before downing what was left of her margarita. 

“What is it?” Drea asked, with concern.  

“Samantha, hi.” Ashley said, stopping at their table, smiling down at Sam. 

Sam tried to feign a smile, but it came out more like a grimace. She saw Drea smirk at her failed attempt. “Oh, hi, I didn’t realize that was you.” 

Ashley’s gaze wandered across the table. “Drea Cordeira. Wow. Long time no see.” 

“Ashley,” Drea replied coolly. “Are you back here for a visit?”

Ashley’s smile dimmed. “No, actually, I just moved back a couple weeks ago.” 

Sam felt like she was going to throw up and knew her face probably wasn’t doing much to hide it. Drea just nodded.

“I see you two are still close,” Ashley said, glancing between the two women.

“Why mess with perfection?” Drea retorted, but Ashley’s attention was already back on Sam. 

Drea waited a moment, then reached for Sam’s empty glass. “Well, I think I’ll grab another round.” 

Sam lunged for Drea’s hand, feeling a surge of panic. “No! Stay. Please.” 

After Drea managed to pry her hand free, she leaned in and whispered. “You’ll be okay. Trust me, you’re going to want another drink.” She turned and headed for the bar.

Ashley stared at Sam, which made her squirm. “It’s really nice to see you again, Samantha. You look great.” 

Sam’s eyes narrowed as she waited for the insult that didn’t come. “Um, thanks,” she replied hesitantly, wondering what alternate universe she’d entered—one where Ashley played the part of a kind human being. 

She braced herself as Ashley opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, and smiled. “Well, I just wanted to say hi. I hope I see you around again.”

Sam gave a half-hearted nod as she imagined about a million things she’d prefer to running into Ashley again. Being mauled by alligators, sharks, run over by a car—the options were endless. Her gaze lingered on Ashley’s retreating form as she headed for the exit. She does look good in those pants though, Sam thought lazily, before mentally shaking herself.

Drea returned, drinks in hand. “She certainly was interested in talking to you. What did she want?”

Sam shook her head slowly, still staring where Ashley had stood moments before. “No idea. I must be more desperate than I realized if I’m finding Ashley Valence attractive.” 

Drea gave her a look. “Sam. That . . .” Drea nodded her head at the door, “that woman was hot. Ashley Valence or not.” She sipped her drink and puckered her lips at the taste. “That girl can wear the hell out of some leather pants. Damn.” She shook her head with a look of reverence. 

Sam glared at Drea. As she sat there, Sam felt an eerie calm spread through her body, and she knew with absolute certainty that Ashley’s return was significant. She could already feel the stirring of the memories she had spent nearly twenty years pushing out of her mind. She didn’t want to revisit them.

Drea’s gaze swept over the people in the room before returning to Sam. “You think she realized she was in a gay bar?”

* * *

Other Girls ©2019 by Avery Brooks

Published by Bywater Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bywater Books

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Avery Brooks is an author, evolutionary biologist, and copy editor. In addition to writing fiction, she is the editor of Slamming Bricks: An Anthology, which features poetry from LGBTQ+, BIPOC, and AAPI poets. She lives in Colorado, where she enjoys hiking with her two dogs and rooting for the Saints.

RAINBOW ROSES BY MELINDA SEQUEIRA

Blurb:

Lenora owned a bar and had a great family and friends. But two things were missing.

One she was working on and the other just walked into her bedroom.

Jess was new in town and just started at the South Bend Indiana Police station in homicide. Her partner Sam had to make a quick stop one morning and she followed her in not knowing this one innocent move could very well change their lives forever.

If you are looking for an honest look at what really goes on in a relationship with a good laugh or two, not to mention hot sex that curls your toes be ready to enjoy,

Rainbow Roses.

Tell us about this scene:

Jess and Lenora fell asleep on the couch the night before. It was their first date.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Lenora and Jess are both getting closer after their talk the night before. Lenora is showing her desire for Jess that usually she keeps well under control. She is written as a woman who doesn't do casual. With Jess she is finding it hard to remember that. Jess teases her with kisses and touches down her curvy body, and enjoys her reactions. Getting an unexpected call, she stops and explains she will be gone for a week for training. It is hard but due to time Jess has to leave. It's a good scene due to it leaves them both wanting, and it gives them time to be sure of the next time, when they may not stop.

* * *

Excerpt:

Lenora opened her eyes and saw Jess’ buttons on her shirt. They were laying on her couch and her head was on Jess’ chest. She closed her eyes and relaxed, enjoying the feel and the scent of her. Glancing up she saw her stunning blue eyes looking down at her.

“Good morning,” Lenora whispered, with it all coming back.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Jess reached down and gently stroked her cheek.

“Yes. Did we really sleep in here on the couch all night?”

“I like it!” Jess snuggled closer.

“Why do you like it?” she giggled.

“Small space, so I can cuddle with you. And may I say, you smell so damn good, woman!”

She smiled with delight.” Did you sleep any last night? The couch is certainly not long enough for you."

“I slept great.” Jess cuddled into her tighter while she could.”This feels good but it's dangerous.” She growled.

Lenora closed her eyes enjoying the feel of her against her body, rethinking her hesitation by the second. “Your body feels wonderful. And your thigh is in an interesting place.”

“Sorry, it's out of my control,” she whispered as she kissed her ear.

Giggling with pleasure, Lenora closed her eyes as Jess’ hand ran down her curvy hip caressing her side, enjoying her. “What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing." Jess continued.

Lenora wrapped her fingers through Jess. “That also feels too good,” she giggled.

Holding her close one more time she eased up. “Alas, as much as I wish I could stay here all day, I gotta get going. I have to be at work soon. I have a meeting at ten.” She kissed her head, rubbing her cheek against her hair.

“What time do you get off?” Lenora leaned into her, pulling her harder against her, not wanting her to go.

Jess leaned back into her smiling. “Not sure...depends on the day. So can I call you?”

“Sure, sounds good.” Lenora sat up hoping she would ask to see her again that night maybe.

Jess’ mouth opened remembering her trip.“Wow—I forgot to mention last night, I'm going to be gone until next Tuesday.” She was so into their time together, she had forgotten about her training.

“Where are you going?” Lenora  asked out loud before she thought. Did that sound nosey, she wondered?

“I’ll be out of town. I’m updating my training on explosives.”

“Bombs...Wow okay. Where?” 

“California. I leave tomorrow at noon for a week.”

“ It sounds dangerous.”

Jess laughed,” Not really, I did similar things in the Army.”

“Are you serious? You were in the army!?” Lenora was impressed.

“Yeah.”Jess smiled over at her.

Lenora could hardly breathe, the way Jess was looking at her made her want to…“You're full of surprises…” She batted her eyes and waited for the kiss she felt was coming.

Jess smiled, licked her lips, and leaned down, stopping an inch from her face, taking a second to get her hot...Lenora knew Jess was working her and she was falling into her hands. She didn't care..she was ready, able, and willing.

Jess slowly licked her lips and ran her cheek against Lenora’s, hearing her take a breath and feeling her chest go up and down excited, hot, hopefully, wet for her. Jess was ready but wanted it to be good for her, wanted to take it slow so Lenora would remember their first time forever, fondly and with love. Their first time had to be special...Her cell rang...Jess dropped her head and reached into her back pocket pulling it out.

“Yeah, Jess?” She listened and said she was on her way, disconnecting the call. She turned and looked back into Lenora’s beautiful green eyes, seeing the disappointment, she understood, feeling the same.

“I'm sorry, I have to go. The flight was changed to tonight. I still have to pack yet and let the chief know.”

Lenora propped up on her elbow to reach Jess, closing her eyes. ”I was ready,” she whispered.

Damn, she knew it. “I will make it up to you as soon as I get back..please wait for me?” She smiled and Lenora knew what she was asking, causing her to blush and to bury her face in Jess’ shirt, smelling her scent, wanting to keep it with her.

“Don’t worry, it will stay in the drawer,” she said, smiling but looking away.

Jess thought she was adorable and sexy and did not want to leave. She leaned down and ran her thumb over her cheek, looking deeply into her gorgeous eyes. “You are an amazing, beautiful woman, and you are wanted very much. I want to make love to you slowly and take the time to show you how I feel about you. How special you are.”

Lenora wanted to jump up and say are you kidding...but she knew this was important to Jess and she wanted to be understanding and supportive of her. But still, this was hard. It will be a long week for sure.

“I look forward to your return, for many reasons, '' she smiled, flirting, “many reasons.” Jess kissed her slowly, leaning down and tasting her, taking some of her along. They pulled apart breathing hard and with one more touch of her hair, Jess headed out the door.

* * *

Rainbow Roses ©2022 by Melinda Sequeira

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Melinda lives in South Bend Indiana but was born and raised in Cincinnati Ohio. She lives with her wife Melissa of 18 years and two cats Cuddles and Frankie and the boss of the house JellyBean, a seven-year-old Lhasa Apso puppy. This is her first release but not last.

ROMANTIC COMEDY

ACCIDENTAL HONEYMOON BY MIRANDA MACLEOD

Blurb:

Monica’s business has been hit hard by a global recession, her ex-girlfriend is selling the house out from under her, and the hot handy ma’am, Ray, who was hired to fix up the place, turns out to be the most annoying woman on the planet. Could things get any worse?

All Ray wants is to finish her job and say adios to the world’s most high-maintenance client. But after being mistaken for Monica’s girlfriend, how can Ray walk away when going along with the charade would grant an old lady her dying wish? It’s not like Ray intended to be so charming that Monica’s grandmother would rewrite her will.

Now the unlikely couple stands to inherit a vineyard in rural New England and a heap of cash large enough to change both their lives. The only hitch? They have to get hitched.

And since Monica is a professional wedding blogger, they’ll have to make it the wedding of the century while convincing two million followers they’re madly in love. No problem, aside from the simple fact that they can’t stand each other. There’s a good chance the whole thing could end in disaster, but is it possible these enemies might find true love along the way?

Tell us about this scene:

Monica and Ray get off to about the worst possible start when Ray, a handywoman, shows up to work on the condo Monica rents from her ex-girlfriend, who has decided to sell the place without telling her. Shocked, Monica takes her frustration out on Ray, and Ray doesn’t pull any punches while putting her in her place. They are complete opposites, and pretty much everything about the other rubs them the wrong way.

In this scene, Monica has run up a huge bill with extra repairs as a petty act of revenge against her ex. But the ex has refused to pay, so Ray is trying to settle up with Monica. They are in the process of bickering about it when Monica’s parents show up unannounced and Monica needs Ray to do her a favor. This will quickly snowball into a misunderstanding completely beyond their control. (This scene has been condensed somewhat to fit the word limit of this anthology.)

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

One thing I was trying to do in this scene was recreate the rapid dialogue and sexual tension of one of my favorite movies, the 1940 classic His Girl Friday. There is something so fun about two people who seem to hate each other so much, they might actually be turned on by it. It’s like Monica and Ray thrive on arguing every time they’re in a room together.

And of course, it’s obvious to everyone around them that if they stepped back for a minute, they’d see they were totally wrong about their first impressions and that spark between them isn’t hate at all, but crazy attraction.

I really enjoyed bringing screwball comedy elements into this story, which this scene showcases well. Also, as someone of Greek heritage, I couldn’t resist making a joke about how unpronounceable Greek last names can be.

* * *

Excerpt:

Ray stood with her hands on her hips, blocking Monica’s exit from the bedroom, looking anything but amused. “If you don’t pay me, I’ll sue.”

“Sue?” Monica put her own hands on her hips, mimicking Ray’s stance. “I spent a semester as a pre-law major.”

“A whole semester? Any longer and you’d be Supreme Court material.”

“It was long enough to know you’re out of luck, because I didn’t sign a contract.”

Ha. Gotcha.

Ray sucked in a breath as if to argue, then let it out like a slowly deflating balloon as Monica’s words seemed to sink in. “Look. I’m sure we can come to an agreement. I won’t charge you overtime.”

“You won’t charge me a dime—” She stopped when a flash of light shone through the bedroom window and hit her in the eyes. “That’s weird.”

“What, you mean a grown woman thinking she doesn’t have to pay people for their work?” Ray quipped. “You’re right, that’s the weirdest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

“No, those headlights.” Monica approached the window and did her best to peer through the opening in the blinds without moving them and making it obvious she was spying. “A car’s pulled in and parked in my driveway, but I’m not expecting anyone.”

An odd, almost sheepish expression crossed Ray’s face. “Um, it’s Thursday, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing, just that your dad stopped by the other day and told me to tell you he and your mom were taking you up on your dinner offer, only”—Ray cleared her throat, looking nervous—“I kind of forgot to mention it.”

Monica’s stomach clenched, and the anger that had subsided earlier roared to a boil. “They’re coming tonight, and you’re only telling me now?”

“No, not tonight,” Ray said, waving her hands as if trying to literally smooth the situation out like it was a wrinkled tablecloth. “Check your messages. He said Friday, which is tomorrow, so there’s no problem.”

“Then why are they outside my house tonight?” Monica demanded, even while doing what Ray had asked and pulling out her phone. Sure enough, there was a voice mail alert. Locking eyes with Ray, she put it on speaker and hit play.

Hello, pumpkin. It’s Dad. Your mother and I are looking forward to catching up with you over dinner. We can hardly wait to get to know your girlfriend better. She seems like a really lovely girl. We’ll see you Friday!

“There.” Ray smacked her palm against her thigh. “See? He clearly said Friday.”

Monica had heard him say it, too, but she had turned her attention to a different part of the call. “What did he mean by my girlfriend seemed like a lovely girl?”

“I don’t know. In my opinion, Brianna seems almost as high strung as—” Ray stopped in mid-sentence, as if suddenly remembering she and Monica were in the middle of a money dispute and deciding to err on the side of professionalism by not insulting her directly. “Never mind. We still have a bill to settle.”

“Oh, no. Not until we get to the bottom of why my dad said Brianna seemed lovely.”

“Are you seriously upset because your parents like your girlfriend? Talk about a first world problem.”

“Ex girlfriend. This isn’t funny,” Monica insisted. “Did she come by when he was here and you’re hiding it from me?”

“Of course not.” Ray looked genuinely offended.

Out in the driveway, her father slipped the phone back into his pocket and took her mom’s arm to lead her toward the house. Monica let out a growl of frustration. Time was running out. “When my dad came by the other day, what happened? Tell me every detail.”

Ray placed the tip of her finger against the dimple on her chin, her brow furrowing in thought. “I had just finished giving Mr. Fluffles a shower—”

“And you lived to tell about it?”

“Barely.” Ray glared at the cat, who was grooming his baby blue belly without a care in the world. “That beast soaked me from head to toe. I had to throw my clothes in the dryer. In fact, I’d just done that when your dad arrived.”

Monica gaped. “You answered the door naked?”

“Are you insane?” Ray gave her a look like she was pretty sure Monica was a few cards shy of a full deck. “I threw on one of the bathrobes from upstairs. There’s no way I’d go traipsing through a client’s house in my birthday suit.”

“When he saw you in my house, wearing nothing but a bathrobe in the middle of the afternoon, my dad obviously thought you were Bri. So come along, dearest, and let’s say hello.”

Ray dug in her heels, gluing herself to her spot even as Monica grabbed her elbow. “Why would I do that?”

“Because right now, the only thing I have to tell them is Brianna broke up with me and is trying to kick me out of my house. I’d really rather not. Which is where you come in.” The doorbell rang again. Monica tightened her grip on Ray’s arm. “Please, come downstairs with me and pretend to be my girlfriend, just for a few minutes.”

“What’s in it for me?” Ray asked, though Monica was encouraged that she had stopped resisting and started walking with her.

“I’ll pay that invoice of yours, no questions asked,” Monica offered, knowing it was the only way. Any leverage she might have held by the fact she hadn’t signed a contract was negated by the enormity of the favor she was asking. “Even the overtime.”

“You admit my time has value?” Ray slowed her pace as the bell rang for a third time, followed by a loud knock.

“Yes, of course, it does,” Monica snapped, impatient to make it to the door.

“But you didn’t think it was worth paying me for my work.”

Darn her. Was the exasperating woman going to make Monica come right out and grovel for her help? “Do we have a deal?”

“I assume that means you’ll be paying me for my time tonight.”

Monica stopped in her tracks and stared. This was much more outrageous than groveling. “You think I should pay you to shake hands with my parents and then be on your way. Now who’s off her rocker?”

Ray shrugged. “If that’s really all it is, I’ll write it off as a free fifteen-minute design consultation. But I think we both know when it comes to parents, the chances of them wrangling me into a full dinner is not insignificant.”

“Pumpkin?” Monica’s dad called through the closed door. She had to answer it before they got worried and called the police or something.

“Fine.” Monica seethed as she grasped the doorknob. “Whatever you want, poopsie.”

“Quick, what’s your last name?”

“Why, so you can write out a contract in blood?”

“No, so I know what to call your mom and dad. Mister and missus…” Ray waved her hand, inviting a response.

“Panagiotopoulos.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ray’s lips moved as if she were trying to silently pronounce the last name while Monica suppressed a giggle. “Even your last name is high maintenance.”

* * *

Accidental Honeymoon ©2020 by Miranda MacLeod

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Miranda MacLeod lives in New England and writes heartfelt romances and romantic comedies featuring witty and charmingly flawed women who love women. Before becoming a writer, she spent way too many years in graduate school, made costumes for professional theater and film, and held temp jobs in just about every office building in downtown Boston.

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NO STRINGS BY LUCY BEXLEY

Blurb:

Fun is the one thing Elsie Webb takes seriously. Though she’d be having a lot more of it if Haelstrom Media paid her enough to actually get out of debt. She’s determined to hold out on contract negotiations for her kids’ television show Fangley Heights until she gets what she deserves. There’s only one problem, the head of the network just died and left her future more uncertain than ever.

Forty-eight hours and one funeral–that’s all Jones Haelstrom has to get through before she can return to her life in LA that’s as ordered and sparse as an IKEA showroom. When she steps in as CEO of her father’s media company, Elsie Webb is her first problem to deal with. Elsie ends up challenging Jones in ways she never could have predicted, starting with an attraction neither can avoid.

As their attraction teeters on the edge of something more both agree to keep it casual. A no-strings agreement and disclosure to HR should be enough to keep things between Jones and Elsie from getting tangled, right?

Tell us about this scene:

Jones, the temporary CEO of the studio that produces Elsie's show Fangley Heights, shows up at Elsie's house with a new contract so Elsie will come back to work. She finds much more than she bargained for.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It is so hard to pick a favorite scene but this is one that had me laughing while writing. I love how it displays Jones's struggle to be serious but also shows how easily she could slide into Elsie's world and be happy there. The two main characters are so different in this early scene but it's clear they complement each other. Jones can talk about contracts and Elise is right there encouraging her to relax for five or six hours.

Weed and edibles are legal where I grew up in Michigan and my older sister, who is a brilliant doctor, makes gummies on the side. I've always loved that juxtaposition and that I will randomly come across candy in her house that I should ask before eating. So there's a lesson here too. I know we all love gummy bears, still, trust but verify.

* * *

Excerpt:

Jones clasped her hands together. “Maybe I should come back another time?”

Elsie looked confused. “You’re already here. Why would you need to come back?”

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Because I think you might be stoned?”

“Yeah, but only a little. Come in.”

Jones' feet followed of their own volition, tripping briefly on a baby carrier leaned against the wall in the entryway. 

Elsie flopped on a leather couch in the living room, her arm around a puppet that bore a striking resemblance to the one missing from the studio.

“I brought a new contract that I was hoping we could—” Jones shifted in her chair and tried not to tip over. Everything felt off-kilter. Elsie giggled, and something in Jones' chest untwisted. 

“Have you ever seen this show? It’s totally genius. This horse is—”

“I haven’t. Look, Elsie, if we’re not going to go over this contract then I need to leave.” Not a single molecule in Jones’ body wanted to go.

“Why? Don’t go—” Elsie’s phone pinged, and she catapulted off the couch. Her underwear was blue with green polka dots, and that was information Jones absolutely should not have. Just one more image that would be living rent-free in her head. 

“Be right back. Time for food.” 

Elsie returned a moment later holding a Slurpee and a pack of Twizzlers. Jones hadn’t known that 7-11 delivered. 

“That’s a pretty broad definition of food,” Jones said.

Elsie held the drink out to her. “Want some?”

There was something about the way Elsie was looking at her that had Jones leaning forward to take a sip before she caught herself. This is a business meeting, even if she is in her underwear. 

“Before I forget.” Jones opened her bag. “Your new—and I hope much improved—contract.”

There, mission accomplished. Sort of. Time to go. 

Elsie looked down, and her eyes widened. She tugged on the hem of her t-shirt with her free hand. “Here, would you hold this for me? You can have some, if you want. It’s half coke, half cherry, as God intended. I’ll be right back. Turns out it’s a little chilly in here without pants. Also, I, um, read better with them on.”

Jones stared straight ahead and gripped the drink until her fingers ached. She slid it onto the coffee table and grabbed a handful of gummy bears from the cut crystal dish. The juxtaposition of finery and candy felt quintessentially Elsie.

Jones was biting into a red bear—she always saved the best flavors for last—as Elsie swept back into the room in tight jeans and a white t-shirt. Jones blinked slowly. Her body felt as pliant as the bear she’d just demolished. 

Elsie’s hand grabbed her wrist and Jones gasped. “Did you eat one of those?”

“Do these not fall into the realm of snacks? Or, don’t tell me—these are props too?” 

Elsie giggled. “No, of course not.”

The surge of that warm sound through Jones was so unfair.

“Good. You had me worried for a second. They would have been pretty tasty for fake candy.”

“I mean, they’re edibles.” Elsie shrugged. 

“I know; I just ate one.” Jones narrowed her eyes. Elsie was almost nonsensical.

“No, as in weed. As in, I really hope you only ate one and don't sue me. Also, you probably owe Avery some money. They claim they're medicinal for the chronic pain in the ass that is living with me.” Elsie’s grin was lopsided.

Alarm bells went off in Jones’ head. “You have candy drugs just sitting out in a dish? How could you be so irresponsible?” Her judgment leaked into her voice, sharpening her words.

Elsie either didn’t understand her tone or chose to ignore it. “Jones, you came into my house and ate some bears of your own accord. Neither of us has the upper hand here. Might as well just enjoy the trip.” Elsie picked up the Slurpee from the coffee table and pressed it into Jones' hand. “Just out of curiosity, how many did you eat?”

“Two, maybe?”

“No one eats just two gummy bears. It’s simply not possible unless all that’s left is like the weird pineapple flavor.”

“Fine. Maybe five? Do I need to go to the hospital?” That candy was going to ruin her entire life. 

“No, I think you need to relax and watch this show with me.” Elsie tilted her head. “Didn’t they taste kind of weird?” 

“I guess I thought they tasted a little stale…like they’d been left out on a table.”

“Fair enough.” Elsie reached forward and then popped a gummy bear into her mouth, swallowing it like a pill. 

“What are you doing?” Her heart felt like a hummingbird in her chest, but wasn’t too early for her to be feeling anything?

“I’m going with you.” Elsie winked and reached for another bear. Jones slapped her hand and for a moment they just stared at each other.

“Aren’t you already high?”

“Only a little.” Elsie held her index finger and thumb a millimeter apart. 

Jones needed to keep it together. “No. Someone has to be in charge. Spit it out.”

“Aren’t you like literally in charge, Jones?” But Elsie reached for a napkin on the coffee table and spit out the bear.

“I’m going to jail.” She’d come to an employee's house, taken drugs, and now she was going to have to call an ambulance, and everyone would know. There was no coming back from a mistake like this. Her breathing was a tornado in her own ears. 

And Elsie Webb was smiling at her. 

“I try not to judge people, but you are not handling this well. Like, at all. You’re not even high yet, so this is just normal paranoia.” Elsie dropped back onto the couch.

“Okay, since you’re the expert, what should I do?”

“Could you try being chill for like five to six hours?”

* * *

No Strings ©2022 by Lucy Bexley

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Lucy Bexley writes romcoms where queer women trip over things and fall... in love with each other. Her stories balance laughter and love with real-world struggles such as anxiety and addiction. Lucy lives in Boston with her partner, pets, and several cases of seltzer. She's the author of best-selling sapphic romances including No Strings and Howl. When she's not writing jokes in a Word doc, she's writing them on Twitter.

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THE REVENGE PLOT BY SIENNA WATERS

Blurb:

Can a tale of revenge have a happy ending?

Prim and proper Elizabeth Marks has the perfect life: a big house, the right friends, credit cards galore, and a handsome husband. Until the perfect man leaves her for another woman.

Enter Poppy Robbins, bubbly Canadian barista and eternal optimist. Elizabeth thinks Poppy’s just the person to help her wreak revenge on her cheating husband. Poppy thinks Elizabeth is seriously attractive. And only slightly crazy.

But when Poppy moves in with Elizabeth and the plans for vengeance get more detailed, both women find that they can’t quite concentrate on the matters at hand...

Sometimes, finding what you haven’t been looking for is just the ticket. And with Kaftan-clan theater directors, a very much not-dead body (or should that be a dead not-body?), interfering friends by the handful, and one homeless man with a heart of gold, plans can only go awry. Which for Elizabeth and Poppy might just mean that there can be a happy ending after all…

Tell us about this scene:

Elizabeth, whose rich husband Eli has left her, has been avoiding her posh and snobby friends ever since she started having an affair with her lodger, Poppy. But now Poppy's gone and her friends have appeared on her doorstep...

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

There’s a few reasons I chose this scene. The first is because a lot of what we write as romance writers is expected. We know, as readers, that there’ll be a love scene, an ‘I love you’, a happy ending. So, for me, it’s what gets the characters to that moment that’s the exciting and fun part. I like this scene a lot because it shows the main character changing into the kind of person that is in a position to admit that she loves the woman she’s given her heart too.

The second reason I like this scene is because it’s a coming out scene, which isn’t something that I write very often (I think this might only be the second or third time I’ve done it). I avoid coming out scenes because in my little book-world I want being gay to be a-okay and not a big deal, since the world puts enough pressure on us as it is.

But this is my idea of a perfect coming out situation. A situation where not only does it not actually matter that the person in question is gay, it’s not even surprising news or at all noteworthy. What ends up happening is that Elizabeth doesn’t shock or surprise her friends, but she is open and honest with them, something that’s far more important.

Finally, I love this scene because of the side characters. Up until now, the three As (Amanda, Alexandra, and Arabella) have been caricatures of the kind of rich, snobby women that eat expensive lunches and do nothing of importance. But here we find out that they’re real people, real, caring people. And that Elizabeth has been loved all along, whether she knew it or not, by the people in her life, even if she’s been struggling to love herself.

All in all, this is my favorite scene because it’s one that I find touching, even if it’s humorous. Plus, I do feel like Elizabeth is a character that’s very close to how I am as a person, which makes it just a wee bit more personal. Oh, and I love a bit of karaoke, so don’t doubt that I have more than one of those microphones that the three As are discussing...

* * *

Excerpt:

“Do you want to talk about it?” Amanda asked. “You don’t have to, obviously, if you don’t want to. But we’re here to listen.”

Here to find out the gossip, most likely, thought Elizabeth. But perhaps a little dose of the truth might send them running. Perhaps if she told them just how imperfect her life was then they’d go, they’d realize that she wasn’t their kind of person at all.

“Eli left me for another woman,” she said.

“How beastly,” said Alexandra immediately.

Okay, ramp it up a little bit. “Oh, he cheated all through our marriage, I certainly knew about it. It’s just this time it’s different, he’s found love, apparently.”

“Men,” said Arabella, rolling her eyes.

Elizabeth frowned. “So, of course, the house will have to be sold, I’ll need a job. Actually, I have a job, waitressing at a bistro, but I’ll need something more permanent.”

“Of course,” Alexandra said. “That only makes sense.”

So far, so not good. Nobody looked even slightly shocked, let alone like they’d run away and desert her. Fine. Time to lay it on a little thicker.

“And then there was Poppy,” she said.

“Who’s Poppy?” asked Arabella.

“Well, it’s like this,” Elizabeth said.

She leaned forward and picked up her glass of wine and started from the very beginning. She started with Eli’s little speech in the coffee shop and step by step she went through everything that had happened, or nearly everything. She left out the personal bits, the bits with feelings, because surely those parts weren’t important anymore. And she definitely left out the sex parts because, well, because.

“She sounds thrilling,” Arabella said, as Elizabeth got to the end of her tale.

“What did she do with the karaoke thing?” asked Alexandra.

Elizabeth was confused. “Um, she had like a portable microphone? And then she did something with her phone and made videos come up on the TV.”

“Ah, she cast the YouTube app to the TV,” Alexandra said knowledgeably.

“That sounds awfully fun,” Arabella said, playing with her phone. “They have those microphones on Amazon, you know.”

“That does sound quite exciting, doesn’t it?” Alexandra said, leaning over to look at Arabella’s phone.

“More wine, dear?” asked Amanda, picking up the bottle.

Elizabeth held out her glass to be filled and felt the annoyance building up inside her. This wasn’t working out at all as she’d planned. Okay, time for the big guns then.

“And then I started to fall in love with her,” she said. “Poppy, that is,” she added for good measure.

“They do make whole karaoke machines you can have in your house,” said Arabella.

“That’s nice, dear,” said Amanda, putting the wine bottle down. Elizabeth wasn’t sure whether she was responding to her revelation or to Arabella’s discovery.

Anger bubbled up inside her. “So we fucked.”

“I do think a whole machine would be cumbersome,” Amanda said to Arabella. “The portable microphone sounds much more convenient.”

“Agreed,” said Alexandra. “What about this one?” She and Arabella poured over the phone again and Amanda turned back to Elizabeth.

“That’s nice,” she said again, smiling brightly. “She sounds quite lovely. And good for you too, by all accounts. Where is she now?”

Elizabeth could do nothing other than stare at Amanda with her mouth open as Amanda’s face turned from politely interested to very confused. Then the penny dropped and she smiled again.

“Elizabeth Marks, was that an attempt to shock me with your worldliness and savoir faire? Because I’ll have you know that despite outward appearances, I’m just as worldly as you are.”

“Just as worldly?” Elizabeth managed.

Amanda shrugged. “I went to boarding school, I had my experimenting phase just like everyone else.”

“Oh, me too,” Arabella piped up.

“Well, now I feel quite left out,” said Alexandra.

“And I’m beginning to get the feeling that you don’t particularly want us here,” Amanda continued.

“It’s not that,” Elizabeth said, flushing. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I just… I’m not a part of your world. I don’t think I ever truly was, and now I’m definitely not. I don’t understand why you’re here or what interest you have in me.” She practically glared at Amanda. “You know there’ll be no more expensive lunches, no more donations to the museum or fundraisers for the library.”

“And you think we’re only here because you’re the right sort of person, do you?” Amanda asked. “Because you’re one of us and we run in the same circles, and maybe because we want to hear what happened from the horse’s mouth so that we can gossip about you at the club?”

Both Arabella and Alexandra were looking at her now too.

Elizabeth swallowed. She couldn’t bring herself to lie, but she couldn’t tell the truth either.

After a long, hard moment, Amanda looked down.. “That is quite offensive,” she said.

“Mmmhmm,” said Arabella and Alexandra in agreement.

Elizabeth’s heart beat hard in her chest. Then Amanda looked up again.

“But I suppose I can forgive you given your current circumstances. You’re obviously heart-broken. Just for the record though, I, at least, am here because you are my friend, Elizabeth. I’m here because I care and because I’d like to help you in the same way that I know you’d help me if I needed it.”

“Me too,” said Alexandra.

“Me three,” added Arabella.

“So you can be angry with us if you like, you can send us away if you need some time alone, but don’t think that we won’t be back. If you can’t do lunch then we’ll have Chinese take out instead. If you can’t donate money to the museum then you can donate time. If you can’t go to fundraisers then…”

“Then we’ll sing karaoke at home,” said Arabella waving her phone. “I just ordered two of those microphones, they’ll come tomorrow.”

And slowly, slowly, Elizabeth’s already cracked heart began to break into tiny pieces. She blinked, hard, trying not to cry.

* * *

The Revenge Plot ©2023 by Sienna Waters

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Sienna Waters writes best-selling sapphic romance with humor and a hint of heat. She's happiest when playing with her cats or driving her wife to distraction, and swears that she really doesn't drink that much white wine...

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CATCH AND CRADLE BY KATIA ROSE

Blurb:

Thou shalt not date thine teammates.

The UNS Women’s Lacrosse team doesn’t have an official policy against inter-teammate relationships, but those words might as well be carved into stone tablets in the middle of the field. After witnessing way too much drama in the past, Captain Becca Moore is intent on keeping her players’ love lives out of the locker room.

Becca has no time or tolerance for any distractions from the game. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Hope Hastings has been since the day she showed up for tryouts: one walking, talking, charismatically dorky and way-too-kissable distraction.

Hope knew she was headed straight to the danger zone from the moment she saw Becca’s flame-red hair and surly captain smirk. She’s spent the past two years writing off her attraction as a harmless crush, but starting a new semester fresh out of an awful relationship makes Hope realize just how far from harmless the heat between her and Becca really is.

The friendships of a tight-knit team and their shot at the title are all lying on the line, but as Hope and Becca get closer to bending rules they’ve sworn never to break, they realize they’ve put their hearts on that line too. Losing has never been an option, but winning might cost more than they’re willing to pay.

Tell us about this scene:

Hope and Becca, two college lacrosse players whose team has a strict ‘don’t date your teammates’ pact, try their best to resist the attraction that’s been simmering between them for months, but when a late-night phone call ends with Hope standing outside Becca’s apartment, they can’t ignore what’s right in front of them any longer.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I’d love to say I’m decisive enough to have a favourite scene of all time, but the truth is I needed to turn to my readers for some help in narrowing down the options. Thankfully, they didn’t have any trouble coming to a nearly unanimous agreement. When I asked my reader group to vote between a few of my own top picks, this one won by a landslide. I wasn’t all that surprised; who could resist the thrill of a late-night phone call with that crush you’re definitely not supposed to have a crush on, especially when it ends with her turning up at your door to tell you how bad she wants to kiss you? I think we’re all a sucker for that moment when two characters who’ve been resisting their feelings for half a book finally give in and admit there’s something going on. Becca and Hope have to battle through some major resistance to get to this point, and it makes that moment of surrender so much sweeter (and spicier!). I hope readers enjoy this look into their love story, and I hope they enjoy grabbing a copy of the book to read the extra steamy scene that follows the excerpt even more.

* * *

Excerpt:

“If I was hypothetically standing in your front yard right now, would you come down and let me inside? Or would you be really freaked out and want me to leave? Both are acceptable answers.”

The line goes so silent I start to think she’s hung up. Panic squeezes my chest. I’m about to ask if she’s still there when the sound of her voice prompts me to start breathing again.

“If we’re talking hypothetically...” She trails off, and I can picture her chewing on her lip as she hesitates. “If you were outside right now, I’d come down and...fuck, Hope, I’d kiss you again. I can’t stop thinking about kissing you again.”

Now it’s me going deathly silent.

“Hope? I’m sorry. I—”

“Becca.” I’m gripping my phone so hard I’m scared I’m going to crack the case. “Come to your window.”

I hear her breathe out, and then there are some shuffling noises before a shadow appears behind the lacy curtains. One of them gets pulled aside, and I see Becca’s face framed by her hair hanging loose and wavy over her bare shoulders. She’s wearing a white tank top with thin little straps. I can’t see her freckles from here, but I can imagine them sprinkled along the tops of her shoulders and down her back.

I haven’t been able to stop imagining them since that day in the locker room.

“Y-you’re here,” she stammers. I watch her lips move high above me. 

“Will you let me in?”

I brace for her to say no. She has every reason to say no.

“This is...probably a bad idea.”

“Yeah,” I agree, “it might be.”

Neither of us moves.

I watch the rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes. I’m covered in goose bumps again, but it’s not from the cold.

“Stay right there, okay?”

The call clicks off before I can answer. She turns away from the window, leaving the curtains swaying. I’m still standing there staring up at them when the sound of the front door creaking open echoes in the quiet street.

Becca steps out onto the porch, and I know if she asked me to drop to my knees right then and there, I’d do it. I’d crawl to her. She’s practically glowing in the dim light from the streetlamp. Her feet are bare, and she’s wearing grey sleep shorts under her tank top with a pale pink knitted cardigan thrown on top. 

I’ve never seen her wear pink before.

“Hope, we shouldn’t do this.”

I wince like she’s just slammed the door in my face. She didn’t have to come all the way downstairs to tell me that. It wouldn’t hurt so much to hear it with a sheet of glass between us.

“Right,” I say through gritted teeth. The pain and embarrassment have me clenching my jaw to keep from breaking down right here. “Of course.”

“But I...I still want to.”

She takes a step farther onto the porch. I don’t move. I don’t know which way this is going.

“When I’m with you, everything feels right. Everything feels simple, which is crazy because it’s not simple and it hasn’t even been that long since we’ve...gotten close, but I hate feeling like my head’s going one way, and my heart...”

A lump rises in my throat when she looks at me with more longing than I’ve ever seen in her eyes before. I’ve never felt so wanted in so many ways. None of my crushes during my wild kiss-all-the-girls days back in first year made me feel this way. Not even Ethan made me feel this way in the whole time we dated.

This is something rare. This is not something you’re supposed to pass up.

“Just forget about the rest,” I rasp. My throat feels raw. I take a few steps toward her. “For tonight, let’s just forget everything else. I can’t keep ignoring it, Becca, and I don’t want to lose you because of that.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

I’m at the edge of the porch now. I wait for her to stop this, to tell me to go, but when she doesn’t, I climb the short set of steps to stand in front of her. The shadows of the leaves in the tree shift and twist in a swaying choreography across her skin.

“Do you still want to kiss me?” I whisper.

She nods. Her bottom lip has dropped open, and her gaze is pinned to my mouth.

“So kiss me, Becca.”

* * *

Catch and Cradle ©2021 by Katia Rose

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Katia Rose loves tea, tiny plants, and writing romance that makes her readers laugh, cry, and swoon (preferably in that order).

Sign up here for Katia Rose ’s author newsletter.

STRAIGHT GIRLS WANNA HAVE FUN BY S.E. CHANDLER

Blurb:

Keep your enemies closer, maybe, much closer.

Another day, another doll. Jackie Leeder makes the most of her one-night “bang-and-runs” when her high school tormentor crashes her bar scene. After some serious groveling from Ann Carter–formerly Annie (FN) Banks, Jackie must decide if she wants to hear out her apology fifteen years late.

But Jackie’s soft spot is for kids. And a playful, chance encounter with a little guy lost in a grocery store drops her in close proximity with the one woman she swore she’d set on fire if she ever saw her again. A fragile friendship forms around good times with Ann’s spunky son until she balks at Jackie’s love ‘em and leave ‘em lifestyle. Jackie doesn’t think she’ll mind the silent treatment.

Until she gets a panicked call from Ann pleading for help with her son.

With her eye on getting out of her rut and her hometown, will Jackie bail on long-term love and, or forgive their past and see Ann for the changed woman who’s fallen for her?

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Childhood Friend/Enemy, Return to Hometown

Tell us about this scene:

Jackie has her eye on her next one-night wonder at the bar where she works when her high school tormenter strolls in and starts acting like they were ever friends. Jackie hasn't seen her in 15 years and would love nothing more than another 150 before she had to see her again...

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

There's nothing more than torturing a former tormentor. Annie fucking Banks wants something from Jackie this time, and Jackie makes her work for it. Their dynamic is charged and intense as they navigate a reunion Jackie never wanted to have. The twist at the end is too delicious!

* * *

Excerpt:

“Well, Jackie Leeder,” she called to me from down the bar.

“Sounds like you know me,” I said, sliding down the bar to her, keeping an edge to my tone. “What can I get for you?”

“You don’t recognize me? Of course you don’t. I don’t look anything like I used to. It’s me. Ann.”

 I had no idea who she was.

“Are you kidding me?” She clutched the bar and tossed her head back laughing. That’s when I knew. That laugh I hated. “From high school,” she said.

I couldn’t help it, I cringed and narrowed my eyes. I wanted to run or punch her in the throat that bellowed that evil laugh.

“It’s me, Ann.”

“Annie Banks.” I said flatly.

I busied myself with anything but helping Annie fucking Banks. She rattled her glass. She crunched on her ice and poked it with a cocktail straw, but I ignored her every attempt to get my attention. When my boss, Clark, asked if he could refill her drink, she said she was waiting on me.

I heard her say so and looked over. She smiled at me and raised her barren glass.

“Jackie! This one’s yours,” Clark threw his voice over his shoulder even though we were three feet apart. I tossed my hair to conceal my eye roll.

“Another?” I asked Annie from where I stood.

“Actually,” she waved me over. “I was hoping you could help me with your wine menu.”

“You would probably like the Chardonnay.” I busied my hands wiping the counter to keep from wrapping them around her neck.

“I was thinking of the wontons and something smooth to go with them.”

Oh Jesus, she’s going to move in, I thought, and stomped over to her.

“Chardonnay is good with the wontons.”

“Whatever you think is best, but what about the blend?”

What’s the point in saying whatever I like best if she was going to ask for something else.

“I can get you the Halter Ranch.” I went to push off the bar and she laid her hand over my knuckles, whitened on a bar towel. My eyes fell to her hand on mine. It was cold and foreign. It felt like a chemical burn on my ego. I looked up at her, my upper lip quivering into a snarl that was supposed to be a smile.

“Jackie, hey, I—” She saw the venom in my eyes and pulled her hand away. I could tell she changed her mind about what she was about to say. “The chardonnay sounds fine. I appreciate it.”

I poured the six ounces and let Clark deliver the wontons when they sat out too long.

“What’s with you?” He chastised me under his breath by the kitchen. “You’re usually falling over yourself to wait on babes like her.”

“You think she’s a babe?” I scoffed.

“Well, she’s sure into you. That’s always babe enough for me.”

I didn’t hide my eye roll from him. “We knew each other in high school.”

“In the biblical way?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You wish, but hell no.”

“You wanna get her speaking in tongues or what?”

“You definitely wish. And fuck no. She’s not my type. And I have no idea why she’s being nice to me now. She never was before. I’m just fine keeping my distance, thanks.”

“As long as she paying, go serve her some drinks, then.”

I tossed my hair and sighed. I found everything I could do between the kitchen galley and her black hole seat at the bar sucking in every breath of light in my life into her swirling vortex.

I waited until she stuffed an entire wonton in her mouth, dipping sauce dripping from the corner of her mouth to ask, “How’s the food?” 

“Mmm!” She swiped the sauce away with her thumb. “Good. Thanks.”

“Another Chardonnay?”

“No, two is my top.”

“It didn’t used to be, Annie Oakley.” I let it slip out louder than I intended. Annie was ultra-popular because of her ultra-parties. Her single dad traveled a lot and left her wide open and unsupervised at least once every month. I was never invited to her everyone’s-invited throw-downs, but I’d heard plenty about them. They called her Annie Oakley for her beer shotgun prowess chugging at least two in a row, even though the real Annie Oakley fired a rifle. They were all idiots and having way much more fun than me.

“Yep.” Her eyes fell away. “That feels like forever ago.”

I agreed. At least until she showed up in my bar hooting my name like she ever knew me and brought a swirl of soured past in with her.

“I’ve seen what that stuff does to people since then,” she said, returning her gaze to me. “Nothing in excess.”

“Or absentia,” I added.

She scrunched up her nose and gave an awkward smile.

“Let’s get dinner sometime, you know, catch up.”

“Yeah, sure.” I lied and turned away.

“I’ll treat you,” she said to my back. “For old times’ sake?”

I turned around. “Annie, look. We weren’t friends in the end. I don’t know what we’d have to catch up on.”

She dropped her gaze and nodded slowly. I thought the ruse was going out of her. She was a one-finger pour away from giving up and going the fuck away.

She splayed her hand on the bar in front of me doing what looked like digging in.

“Let me buy you dinner because I was a bitch to you then, ok?”

I raised one eyebrow and the corner of my mouth involuntarily turned upward.

“There’s no way in the world buying you dinner could make up for how I treated you in school. And honestly, I would tell me where to go.” When I didn’t stop her from the self-deprecation, she started again. “But I’d really love the chance to talk. My two-drink limit isn’t the only thing that’s changed about me.”

* * *

Straight Girls Wanna Have Fun ©2023 by S.E. Chandler

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

S.E. Chandler is a mother, Mrs., author and advocate. She loves stories of strong women finding each other in the midst of life in unexpected ways. A published poet, she enjoys weaving poetic elements into her fiction. She is pursuing an MFA in creative writing at the Thomas Wolfe Center for Narrative.

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BRIDESMAID OF HONOR BY GRAYSEN MORGEN

Blurb:

Britton Prescott's best friend is getting married and she's the maid of honor. What her best friend failed to mention, was the fact that her cousin Daphne was going to be a bridesmaid. The same cousin that has been Britton's nemesis since they were in high school.

As if that isn't enough to deal with, Britton's sister announces she's getting married in the same month and her maid of honor is none other than her best friend Daphne, the same woman that has tormented her sister for years. Britton has to suck it up and play nice, instead of scratching her eyes out, because she and Daphne are in both weddings.

Everyone is counting on Britton and Daphne to behave like adults and put the past behind them. No one expects to find them wrapped in each other's arms at the most inopportune time.

Tell us about this scene:

Daphne sees Britton for who she truly is, and both women, who have harbored such animosity for each other, finally talk for the first time in ten years and discover the truth behind the hostility.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I first chose this scene because it is from Bridesmaid of Honor, the first of three Rom-Com books in my bestselling: Bridal Series. This eye-opening moment is my favorite because the main characters let down their walls and come to an almost comedic realization that I believe is easily relatable. This passage is also the beginning of the turning point in the story.

* * *

Excerpt:

Daphne set the menu aside. “Britton, I’m intrigued by your artwork. You’re a brilliant woman with a God-given talent. I wish I had known this side of you. I honestly never knew you were into art. All you and your family every talked about was rowing. When did everything switch to art?”

Britton smiled. “I took some art classes in school and realized I really enjoyed it. I was good at rowing and loved rowing, but drawing was my passion. My dad flipped out when I turned down all the rowing scholarships to go to MIT for Architectural Design.”

“I remember people talking about you going to the Olympics and one day heading Prescott’s in his place.”

“All his dreams, not mine.”

“Wow.”

“Not what you expected?” Britton asked.

“No. Well, I don’t know. I spent so much time disliking you that I never got to really know you. Bridget used to talk about you here and there, but not often.”

“You chose to dislike me all these years instead of talking to me about what happened, Daphne. We were kids.”

Daphne sighed, raising her eyes to Britton’s slowly. “I didn’t know how. I couldn’t put it into words. It took me moving away from Rhode Island to finally be honest with myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been so hostile towards you all of these years because at first I blamed you.”

“Wait a second, you were...”

“That’s not what I mean. Trust me, I remember what happened and how it happened. I meant I blamed you for making me feel attracted to you. You were the first girl I was ever interested in sexually and I thought it was all your fault, that you made me this way. I went for years fighting an attraction I had no control over, and I was so scared of being outed that I blamed you for everything that was fucked up in my life all these years.”

“Huh...wait...what?”

“I’m a lesbian, Britton. I have been for a while. I’m not out to my family or at work, but I live a pretty open life in New Bedford.”

“Get the fuck out!” Britton was shocked. “Are you serious?!”

“Yes.” Daphne smiled. “Britton, I’ve been treating you like shit all these years because I had feelings for you. I’ve had them since high school.”

“Wow!” Britton was floored. She sat down on the couch. Her mind was still trying to process everything she just heard. 

 “Say something. Anything,” Daphne pleaded, sitting down next to Britton.

“I...I’m speechless.” Britton looked at her, shaking her head. “Do you want some wine?” she asked, standing up.

“What?”

“Wine? I’m opening a bottle. Do you want a glass?” Britton questioned, walking towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure. I’d love one.”

Britton opened a bottle of merlot and poured two glasses. She returned to the couch, handing Daphne one of them.

“So, all this time, almost ten damn years, I thought you hated me, and you actually had the hots for me,” Britton said, still shaking her head. 

“Something like that.” Daphne laughed nervously. 

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” Britton asked. 

“I was confused and scared. Then, I graduated and went to college and barely ever saw you. Then, you graduated and moved away.”

Britton put her head in her hands and laughed. 

“I don’t think it’s that funny,” Daphne chided.

“No. I’m not laughing at you, just the situation.”

“When I saw you again at your parent’s house in Newport I was floored. You were always pretty in school, but you grew up to be a beautiful woman, Britton.”

“Thank you,” Britton said. “I’m still a little shocked. I really wish you had talked to me back then instead of treating me like shit. We could have resolved a lot of things.”

“I know. I need to thank you for keeping my secret safe for all these years when you could have easily told everyone.”

“As I said, it wasn’t my secret to tell. Besides, I wasn’t going to ruin it for myself. When you’re a sophomore and a hot senior is naked in your bedroom and she kisses you, you sort of keep that to yourself,” Britton shrugged. “I wanted more you know.”

“I did too.” Daphne paused. “Still do,” she said, peering over her glass as she took a sip of wine.

“Then why are you still an asshole towards me? We were kids back then.”

“I guess in a way I was angry. You live this out and proud life without a care in the world and I hide in the closet, stupidly harboring feelings for you.”

Britton stood to put some space between them and walked into the kitchen with her empty glass. She set the glass near the sink and leaned against the counter, looking out over the living room.

“You should have told me how you felt.”

“You weren’t exactly nice to me either, all these years. I doubt that would have gone over well.”

“I can’t tell you either way. We shared a schoolgirl crush, but I was always attracted to you, Daphne. I still am, but I can’t be an experiment.”

Daphne stood and walked into the kitchen with her empty glass. Leaning around Britton, almost fully touching her body, she placed the glass near the sink. “You may have been the first girl I ever kissed, but you certainly weren’t the last,” she said before stepping away.

* * *

Bridesmaid of Honor ©2013 by Graysen Morgen

Published by Triplicity Publishing, LLC

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Graysen Morgen is the bestselling author of many titles. She has spent most of her lifetime in the sun and on the water. She enjoys reading, writing, fishing, and spending as much time as possible with her wife and their children.

ROADBLOCKS BY D.J. FRONIMOS AND ELKE LAKEY

Blurb:

Silke has newly professed her love for Lauren, but her happiness is short-lived when Lauren’s grown daughter moves back home to recuperate after an accident. Lauren, overwhelmed with working at night and taking care of Kayla during the day, struggles to make time for Silke and their fledgling relationship. Silke hates her sudden roommate status and soon resents Kayla. Still Lauren stubbornly refuses to come out to her daughter.

Sexy Ana, who still carries a torch for Silke, is more than willing to come to the rescue. Frustrated by her home situation, Silke enjoys hanging out with the chivalrous Ana. Suddenly Alex from Germany shows up and claims she and Silke are still an item. Aware it was Silke’s life choices that broke them up and not the lack of mutual attraction, Alex manipulates her into spending time together. After all, it’s hard to ignore an ex who knows how to push all your buttons, especially if you’ve never stopped caring.

Against all odds, Lauren and Silke prevail. Lauren even accompanies Silke to Germany for a family crisis. Watching her niece reminds Silke how much she wants her own baby, and she is devastated when Lauren is perfectly fine with having been there and done that already.

Can Silke and Lauren overcome their biggest roadblock and somehow compromise? Or has Silke’s baby wish become a deal breaker?

Tell us about this scene:

Main character Silke is with new love-interest Lauren when suddenly both Silke's exes show up at their door.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

We chose this scene because it showcases four strong women each with their own agenda in one small kitchen together. Tensions run high as Ana, Lauren and Alex compete to be the center of attention as they fight for Silke, the lead character. These three normally in control, professional women turn into catty bitches who will stop at nothing to make each other look bad.

Poor Silke. Can there be anything worse than having your exes and current love interest thrown together on Christmas morning?

* * *

Excerpt:

Lauren, still in her nightclothes, scowled at her like someone who’d been visited by the chupacabra and survived it and now couldn’t believe another human was arriving. 

“Ana. How great to see you.” Lauren’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Join the party.” She gestured her in and closed the door none-too-gently behind them. 

Making out Silke’s voice from the din, Ana perked up and headed toward the back of the house. Good thing Carmela had been generous with the food, because it wasn’t just Silke and Lauren’s daughter, but another woman as well who stared at her as she entered.

“Feliz Navidad. I brought tacos and tamales.”

The dark-haired one with the somewhat angular face lifted one corner of her mouth. “Ana, I presume? I’m Alex.”

Chingao.So this was the bitch that had broken Silke’s heart. Ana studied her more closely. Long black hair parted in the middle exposed a high forehead. Very white skin. Thin brows over striking blue eyes that now returned Ana’s look with a highly amused one. 

“If you’re finished with your appraisal, I’d like to try a tamale.” She turned to Silke. “Poor darling. I bet you weren’t expecting to have all of us in one room together.”

All of us that you slept with, Ana finished in her mind, realizing that was exactly what Alex had intended. Bitch.

“Help yourself! There’s sauce, too. In the Tupperware.”

Ana had settled herself in the only vacant chair remaining around the table, leaving Lauren standing awkwardly in the doorway, apparently torn between playing the good hostess and throwing her competition out. The girl with crutches next to her chair was clearly Lauren’s daughter, her features very similar and her expression laughably irritated as well. 

“You can have my seat, Mom. It’s getting a little too crowded for me in here. Are we expecting any other lesbians? I didn’t realize San Antonio Pride week fell this close to Christmas. I would have worn my rainbow earrings to show my support.” The girl with the smart mouth rose unsteadily and grabbed her crutches, pushing past her mother without even trying any of the food. “I’ll be at Jessica’s. Let me know when it’s safe to come home. Wouldn’t want to interrupt an orgy or anything.”

Fat chance of that. Not that Ana would’ve minded overly much at this point. Not as long as she got a piece of Silke. Madre Dios, who was she kidding? She wanted all of Silke, to hell with the rest of them. It must have shown on her face because Alex gave her a curious look before shaking her head almost imperceptibly. Flustered, and mad as she was, Ana pulled the Walmart bag closer. 

“Silke, you’ve got to try the tamales. Old family recipe. There’s chicken and pork.”

“Your sister told me about that,” Silke volunteered, the first thing she’d said since Ana got there. “Apparently it’s a huge affair, the whole clan getting together to make them.”

“Exactly.”

“So you made these?” Alex inquired in a friendly enough tone, but Ana could tell the bitch was sizing her up as much as Ana had sized her up earlier.

“My family did. It’s more of a women’s thing, really.”

Lauren finally sat down with a resigned expression and slid her chair toward the table. “Any chance one of you could pass me a tamale? Can’t say I particularly feel like cooking today.”

“Pork or chicken? Never mind, try both.” Ana picked out two nice ones for her and handed them over. “Careful with that sauce. It’s hot.” Lauren was, too, especially when she leaned forward like that. She had nice breasts, that one, round and plump without being saggy, a fact that even her boring nightgown couldn’t disguise. An image came to mind, Silke pulling off that nightgown and burying her face between those tits, and Ana fidgeted in her chair uncomfortably. 

“So you’re not considering yourself a woman? Interesting.” Alex helped herself to a tamale, but eschewed the hot sauce this time. There was something sensual about the way she tasted the tamale, putting the end of it in her mouth and closing her lips around it as if…

Stop it, Ana, you hate the bitch. Yet she couldn’t deny that Alex’s understated intensity was attractive. And if she, who never ever went for butch types, was attracted, Ana could only imagine the magnetism that bitch exuded to a femme like Silke. Damn. Forget Lauren—this Alex here was the true competition. 

Lauren drizzled hot sauce over her tamales and looked Ana in the face defiantly as she took a bite. Had to give her credit. She handled the sauce without her eyes even watering. Just a slight flush rose to her cheeks. Ana wondered what else she handled well and her eyes lowered to Lauren’s nipples, outlined against the fabric of her nightgown. Lauren licked her fingers seductively. “These are good. My compliments to the chefs.”

“I’ll be sure to pass them on.” Ana allowed her voice to get husky. “I’m sure you have your specialties, too. From what Silke’s been saying you’re a great,” she paused deliberately, “cook.”

“Cut it out, you two!” Silke demanded shrilly, her cheeks flaming an angry red. “From the way you all are behaving, one would think we are trying to have an orgy.”

Lauren turned to face Silke. “Well, Schatz, I did not invite your friends over. Just trying to make the best of it. I mean, getting in the holiday spirit and all.” 

Ana tore open the bag that contained the individually wrapped tacos and placed one on each of their plates.  She waited until both Lauren and Silke started eating before she produced the gift bag that she’d shoved under the table earlier. “A special gift for a truly special girl. Merry Christmas, Silke.”

* * *

Roadblocks ©2022 by D.J. Fronimos and Elke Lakey

Published by JMS Books LLC

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from the publisher

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

D.J. and Elke both work in medicine but when the scrubs come off, the writers in them come alive! Their small ranch in Texas is home to two horses and dog Aria, and the place where their family gets together. D.J. and Elke also sing in a German women's choir.

I DARE YOU TO LOVE ME BY LORI G. MATTHEWS

Blurb:

Danielle Clark’s life is going according to plan. She’s in the middle of her surgical residency and she and her fiancé, Will, are the perfect match. At least that’s what everyone says. When Will brings home a rescue dog, it’s hard to tell who’s less enthused, Dani or her cat, Jinx. The dog wreaks havoc on the household and needs training, but who has time for that? Certainly not Dani.

In steps Kara Britton, owner of a successful kennel. When she picks up Dani's dog for day care, the sparks fly. The wrong kind of sparks. A frazzled Dani forgets her own dog's name and Kara is appalled.

The two women verbally spar at every opportunity, but beneath the surface is a growing attraction that neither expected. During one of their many heated discussions, they share a why-I-oughtta kiss that rocks both their worlds. Dani's engagement weighs heavy on them both, and they make a conscious effort to stay apart, but fickle fate and meddling friends seem to delight in throwing them together.

Will Dani choose the safe path and stay with the man she’s expected to marry? Or will she dare to love Kara.

Tell us about this scene:

Dani is hanging out at the local bar with her besties, when in walks her new nemesis, Kara Britton, who’s annoying as hell. Now if only her traitorous body would agree.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I wanted to pick a scene that showcases the humor in the book, which is a true romcom. This particular scene always makes me laugh a little bit harder because when I was younger, I found myself in a similar situation, slow dancing with a hottie and having all sorts of crazy thoughts run through my head. I remember sweating profusely, and thinking, “Am I experiencing early-onset menopause?” At least Dani manages some coherent responses. I’m pretty sure I mumbled and stuttered my way through the dance. I think this scene also gives the reader a preview of the hilarious banter between these two MC’s as they argue and fight their way to falling in love.

* * *

Excerpt:

A rare slow song came on and Jen grabbed Zoey’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Her mouth turned down at the edges. “But this is getting good.”

“No, you guys, don’t leave me please,” Dani pleaded, to no avail. She stole a glance at Kara, who wore that damn half-smile smirk on her face.

“Afraid to be left alone with me?”

“Oh, please, don’t flatter yourself. It’s not you.” Dani spotted Elena on her way over. “Oh boy.”

Elena placed a hand on Dani’s arm. “Hey Dani, come dance with me.”

Dani had made the drunken mistake of dancing with her one time two years ago. And ever since, she needed to fend her off whenever the music slowed down. Usually, she had a litany of excuses prepared, but Kara had her all befuddled. Dani could perform the most delicate of surgeries, but she could only handle one annoying woman at a time.

Kara grabbed Dani’s hand. “I’m sorry, she promised this dance to me.” She gave a small yank and led Dani onto the dance floor. Kara pulled her close. “You’re welcome,” she whispered into her ear.

“I certainly didn’t need you to rescue me,” Dani hissed. Kara’s arms felt strong. And it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. Dani tried to maintain an acceptable distance from the slightly taller brunette. There was no need for any extra touching.

Kara laughed softly and leaned even closer, her lips brushing her earlobe. “Who was your friend back there?”

A shiver ran down Dani’s spine when Kara’s breath grazed her ear. Damn air conditioner. “Nobody.”

“She acted like you guys danced before.”

Dani tried to be vague, hoping this line of questioning would end soon. “Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t.” Kara’s hips pressed into hers, and the warmth she experienced earlier moved south. Like, south of the border. The border being her belt. How was this even possible? Wanting to slap someone and rip their clothes off at the same time? All she wanted to do was press her hips into Kara and grind away at the ache that began to throb between her legs. She cursed her traitorous body. And what the hell perfume was she wearing? It was intoxicating but not overpowering, sweet and delicate with a hint of lavender. Dani wanted to bury her nose in Kara’s neck.

“You make a habit out of dancing with women?”

Don’t say anything, don’t say anything. “Sometimes.” Dani bit her lip as soon as the words flew out of her mouth. Jesus Christ, the ache was getting stronger.

“Hmm. Have you ever dated a woman?”

“Maybe.” Oh. My. God. Did I just say that? The arrhythmia came back with a vengeance, only instead of fluttering, her heart pounded like a bass drum. Great. She was having a heart attack. Who would resuscitate her? Would she need mouth-to-mouth? Did Kara know CPR? Maybe a heart attack wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“So, you did date a woman.”

“I didn’t say that.” The heat spread to other parts of her body now. Was this a hot flash? When was her last period? Was this early onset menopause? Was the air on in here? For fuck’s sake, turn on the AC!

“You didn’t have to.”

“Oh, so you’re a dog walker and a psychic?”

Kara laughed again. “What was her name?”

“Suzanne.” It seemed she was powerless to stop the flow of information from her lips. She hated her half-drunk self.

“Wow. I’m totally surprised.”

Dani became sexually sober in an instant. “Why? You don’t think a woman would go out with me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you meant.”

“It’s just that…I don’t know. You seem a bit uptight for that.”

“Uptight? I’m not uptight.”

“You’re a little uptight.”

“I’m stressed, not uptight.”

“How long ago were you with her?”

“It was years ago…” Dani caught herself. “Wait, I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Aw, c’mon.”

“No.” The song ended, saving her from further humiliation. She broke away and raced back to the table where Zoey and Jen were already seated.

Kara strolled over. “Ladies, I just wanted to say goodbye. And Dani, thanks for the dance. It was enjoyable.”

“Pphhtt. I don’t know about that.”

“Well, I enjoyed it.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

With a tilt of her head, Kara said, “Maybe you’ll enjoy the next one.”

Dani gulped. Next one? I barely survived this one. Quick! Say something clever! She wracked her brain for a stinging rebuke, but it was too late. Kara was gone. “Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, annoyed with the fact that Kara had gotten in the last word.

* * *

I Dare You to Love Me ©2022 by Lori G. Matthews

Published by Bella Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bella Books

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Lori G. Matthews lives outside of Philadelphia with her wife and two cats. When she’s not writing, she plays ice hockey, hikes, bikes, and bird watches. But her favorite place to be is on the golf course, where she’s proudly earned the nickname Long and Wrong.

EROTICA / EROTIC ROMANCE

CAUGHT UP AND STRAPPED UP (RLOA) - BOOK 1 BY AUNT GEORGIA LEE

Blurb:

“Sometimes I Feel Like a Top, Sometimes I Don’t.”

Whitney James is a 34-year old millennial who loves femme on femme action. Although she wears dresses well, Whitney also enjoys wearing the pants and the strap-on in her relationships. Caught up in a complicated relationship with a politician, the pussy is private because Congresswoman Mikael Rollins’s public life keeps her hiding in the closet.

When Whitney challenges her lover to be more open about their relationship, the congresswoman has her own challenge in mind. “Be my bottom bitch.”

Will Whitney allow her lover the permission to strap up and dominate her heart and her body?

Tell us about this scene:

Whitney and Mikail are lovers who struggle to find time in their busy schedules to connect. Their secret relationship creates tension and this scene reflects the interruptions in their relationship as well as the makeup sex they long to have, if only they had enough time.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It was truly hard to choose my favorite scenes from all of the stories I've written. But this one represents both the sensuality of my characters and their humorous encounters in less than 1,000 words. Plus this top and bottom are two of my favorite characters, including the third wheel who interrupts their morning loving.

* * *

Excerpt:

Chapter 1: THE FOREPLAY

Whitney James tried to give her caller as much of her attention as she could, but the object of her desire was performing the sexiest reverse strip performance she’d ever seen by far. This woman was working every curve, angle, and motion that her sweet ass body had to offer while she slowly pulled the lacy black undies up long legs, smooth thighs, over a plump booty, and around a slim waist. The matching bra was next as manicured fingers cupped the soft material around ample breasts and secured the front clasp. Whitney wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make it to the stockings without dropping the phone and giving the woman the lip service she so deserved.

Whitney had experienced her fair share of nude dancers as frequent trips to Magic City, and Strokers had been her favorite pastime in her twenties. But her social calendar included more tasteful experiences at thirty-four years old than sweaty pussy and fried chicken wings. Plus, why would she need to go slumming for thrills and feels with a woman like Congresswoman Mikail Rollins as your dime piece? She couldn’t hide her amusement at the thought and let a chuckle slip from her well-moisturized lips. She did her best L.L. Cool J impersonation and licked her lips as she continued to admire the view. Her current houseguest gave her an inquisitive stare. 

Whitney moved her free hand in the air to instruct the congresswoman to proceed. She sealed the request with a flick of her tongue and a wink of her eye to confirm her pleasure. 

The female caller vocalized her concern about Whitney’s response. “Whit, what’s so funny? Are you even listening to me?”

“Nothing, Mack. Go ahead. What were you saying?”

Whitney could hear the deep dramatic sigh from her sis. As she would tell the story, Mackenzie Gresham had adopted Whitney instead of the other way around. But it never mattered to Whitney how the story was told. She loved the young woman like she was her flesh and blood sister. And like any little sister, Mackenzie often played the role of a spoiled brat very well. 

“I guess since yo bae is over there, you don’t have time for real fam, right?”

“Mack, that’s not completely true. I will always be there for you when you really need me. So far, what I can recall of this conversation is that you’re headed to some senior citizen party to explore your new Cicely Tyson obsession?” 

Whitney tried not to tease her sis too much, but Mackenzie’s eccentric behavior and impulsive decisions always seemed over the top and uncharacteristic for a twenty-year-old.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it, I always say. Cicely Tyson is phyne as wine, black don’t crack, and all this that and the third.” Mack defended, unable to control her laughter and amusement. 

Whitney echoed the laughter. The girl was crazy, but she was never dull. Mack kept Whitney on her toes for sure. But then her attention was again distracted by the houseguest, who had decided to redirect her lover’s focus. Mikail, barely dressed in her bra, panty set, and an unbuttoned navy-blue cotton blouse, climbed onto Whitney and straddled her. Whitney used the support of the cozy minimalistic bed and her strong Pilates lower body to secure their entanglement. She watched Mikail moisten her lips with the sweet juices from her tongue and then wet Whitney’s ear with gentle, deeper kisses.

“I only have ten more minutes left with you, Whitney. How do you want to spend them?” 

The feisty little tongue that added even more meaning to that question dipped inside her ear and circled the message loud and clear. Whitney grabbed the panty-covered booty and stroked her feverish response to that tongue along the plump bottom. 

“Whit, Whit, are you still there?”

Whitney pulled back regretfully from Mikail’s determined tongue. She saw the disappointment clearly in the frown on her lover’s face. She used her seductive brown eyes to plead with Mikail for a few more moments of patience. Mikail’s response was to unwrap their bodies, but Whitney held her tighter. 

Whitney mouthed, “Wait.”

Mackenzie continued to rant in her ear and threatened to hang up.

“Mack, I’m sorry, but I gotta go. I’ll call you back, or you can call me after the pool party. Okay?”

“Dang, Whit, fine! But you better be available.”

“I promise I will. Just call me later.”

“And what about my surprise birthday party? You got that covered, right?”

Whitney watched Mikail become more disengaged the more prolonged the call, and her anxiety over missing the last few minutes of their time together was even unnerving her. 

“Mack, I told you already, I’m not throwing you a surprise birthday party. I won’t even be in town on your birthday. I’m sorry, okay?”

Whitney knew the tone in her voice wasn’t her true intent, but she needed Mack to let her get back to her main priority at the moment.

“Dang, Whit! You don’t have to be so shady. I know you and Shantal wouldn’t forget my 21st birthday. So, I’ll let you go get your groove back, Stella! When you get a chance, hit a sista back with the details so I can pass it along to some key folks. Later!”

Whitney threw the phone into the depths of the numerous plush pillows strewn across the bed. 

“Well, it’s about time.” 

Mikail covered Whitney’s mouth with her own and then with her inquisitive tongue. That tongue wanted to know every detail of Whitney. She felt it lick and stroke her chocolate face. She felt it caress her neck and lick her exposed chest as its owner expertly removed Whitney’s tank top. 

“We’re going to need more time,” Whitney assured.

She heard the soft moan escape Mikail’s lips, then the tortured disclosure, “I can’t.”

* * *

Caught Up and Strapped Up (RLOA) - Book 1 ©2020 by Aunt Georgia Lee

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Aunt Georgia Lee is an old soul but still young at heart. She is one of the South's best storytellers. The love of reading and writing romance stories have always been her passions. It pleases her even more, to share her original stories with the LGBTIQA+ community. In her own words, "Can we pretend? Characters are my family and friends. Stories are what could have been or what should have been."

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PART OF HER PLAN BY CATHERINE PEACE

Blurb:

An invitation to Cupid’s Café will change your life.

Lydia Rossi has The Plan all figured out. A great job at Louisville’s fastest-rising tattoo shop, a place of her own, and putting her heroin addiction behind her once and for all. So far, everything fits perfectly into the safety-focused life she’s created, though she can’t forget the one woman who made her want more.

Jenny Sloane’s sole focus is on convincing her brother to let her come home. She’s deceived him into thinking she’s clean, but the truth is—she likes the way she feels when she drinks. If it takes a few white lies to make it happen, she will lie until the cows come home. She doesn’t need anyone, except family.

A note from Cupid’s Café reunites Lydia with her former therapy groupmate Jenny, sparking attraction, but a new complication arises when Jenny moves into the same transitional living house with Lydia. Jenny’s presence threatens to unravel Lydia’s plan, and for the first time Jen’s family-only focus wavers. One moment and one mistake is all it’d take to destroy their futures, but the chemistry between them is undeniable. No strings attached becomes tangled. Can a relationship be part of The Plan after all?

Tell us about this scene:

Tattoo artist Lydia and musician Jenny live in the same transitional housing. As their highly irresponsible FWB situation deepens, Jenny invites Lyd to her first gig since an unplanned hiatus and shenanigans ensue.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

The reason I chose this scene is twofold: one, it's the first time we get to see stuffy Lydia truly let go and two, it's the first time Jenny has ever played a show sober. We spend a lot of the book seeing Lydia in her element at the tattoo shop, but Jenny hasn't had that opportunity.

This leads to the Black Moment, so it's wild and carefree, a chance to explore this thing between them before it all falls apart. In this scene, they're on equal footing in their teenager-like enthusiasm for each other. Lydia doesn't hold back, and Jenny hasn't held back the entire time.

* * *

Excerpt:

“You ready?” Tommy asked in her ear. 

By the gooseflesh all over her arms and chest, she figured she was, and nodded. “This is going to be sick.” The sensation of her bass strap against her skin was like coming home. 

She stepped out last to cheers and catcalls, and in the front row stood her wet dream dressed to thrill in a pinstriped vest— no shirt underneath—those skinny slacks from their chance encounter at the café, and black Vans. She’d slicked back her hair and wore no makeup except for mascara and the bright red lipstick she favored. The heat in those forest eyes went through every cell of Jenny’s body. After playing on stage for the first time in forever, she didn’t know how long she could hold out once they got home… 

They went into their sound checks, something else Jenny never thought she’d miss so bad, and then launched into their first song. Her fingers moved over the frets of their own volition and she became one with the music, the lyrics, the crowd. By the third song, Lydia was throwing horns and moving with the beat like she’d been born to rock out. Every so often, Jenny caught a glimpse of the black lace bra beneath Lyd’s vest and the way her breasts strained against the fabric. Jenny wanted to touch and taste. Tonight. 

On the fourth song, a ballad Tommy and Jen had written in better times, Tommy’s voice turned soft, seductive. Jen knew every word by heart, mouthed every suggestive line to the gorgeous blonde staring up at her with such naked hunger. Their shared kisses played through her mind, the feel of Lydia’s body against hers, those perfect lips, the fire that just needed the right kind of kindling to turn into a blaze. When the song ended, the final chord and Rick’s cymbal roll flowed over her like a gentle ocean wave, but it did nothing to cool her blood. By the end of the ten-song set, she was practically panting and more than ready to jump Lydia as soon as they were even semi-alone. 

After a cursory goodbye to Tommy and Rick, Jenny hauled ass to get back to her, and the smile on those cherry-red lips sent delicious shivers through her that settled right between her thighs. Without a second thought, Jenny crushed her mouth to Lydia’s, savoring the taste, the sensations, the everything, especially that Lyd kissed her back just as hard, just as needy. “Let’s go,” Jen whispered. Lydia nodded and took her hand, leading her through the crowd and straight to the car. 

This was way better than being drunk. She wasn’t sure of the last time she’d allowed herself to feel this kind of rush but she’d never been so in tune with another person. It was like Lydia’s desire bled into her, fed hers, in some kind of symbiosis. As soon as she shut the passenger door, Lyd was on her again, and Jen gave in. Heaven, Paradise, all of it failed to compare to the heady intoxication of the best kiss of her life. 

Finally, Lydia pulled away and started the engine, then peeled out of the parking lot like a NASCAR driver. Dust kicked so hard it obscured the bar. Lyd’s hand roved up and down Jenny’s thigh, and she returned the favor with featherlight touches along Lydia’s collarbone and teasing the lace of her bra. 

“You keep that up, I might wreck,” she said.

* * *

Part of Her Plan ©2021 by Catherine Peace

Published by Inkspell Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Catherine Peace has been telling stories for as long as she can remember and doesn’t plan to stop any time soon. When she’s not thinking about her next book, she’s playing video games, spending time with her pup, or avoiding the outdoors. By day, she masquerades as a responsible adult.

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WICKED FEM BY EDIE MARR

Blurb:

A kinky butch meets the dominatrix of her dreams.

Pix is a chubby, scruffy butch, Lois is a beautiful polished fem. Pix has never had a relationship with someone as adventurous as Lois before, although she's always wanted to.

And Lois has never had a relationship with a woman.

A heart-stopping, star-crossed romance set in Brighton, the UK’s queer city by the sea, that swoops from cocktail bars to bus-stop encounters to fateful meetings in supermarket aisles - as love is found and lost and found again.

Tell us about this scene:

After a chance encounter with Lois in the supermarket, Pix has become obsessed with this beautiful woman. Her plans to track her down seem to have failed miserably, when, thanks to fate, she finds her again, late a night, waiting at a bus stop.

Only to discover Lois has been searching for her too. They quickly decide to go back to Lois's flat and head straight for the bedroom.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Wicked fem was my first sapphic novel and it revolves around the chemistry and tension between Lois and Pix. Lois is bisexual, but she's never had a relationship with a woman. Pix is kinky but she's never had a kinky partner. They both hold the key to something the other wants and they both feel like the other is the more worldly, sophisticated partner.

This scene is their first real meeting, where they both discover their mutual feelings of desire for one another. It also showcases Pix's cute tongue-tied reaction to Lois's beauty and her high fem style. Lois has come straight from work and is still dressed in her dominatrix garb. A lot of readers mention how much they enjoy the descriptions of Lois's lingerie and fetish outfits in the book.

But what I love about this scene is the promise it holds. They're right on the edge. Both these characters, bubbling over with the thrill of being on the precipice of getting exactly what they've always wanted.

* * *

Excerpt:

Lois sits on the bed and leans down to massage the back of one of her ankles. It’s a hot gesture somehow and it must have gone to my head because I say, “Don’t take them off.”

    She looks at me and she has this gorgeous smile on her face, painted-red, spreading and lighting up her eyes. It’s a smile that makes me think she’s planning my death by torture. I hope she is. “Don’t take what off?”

    “You know.” I’m still in the doorway. I’m almost scared to get closer.

    “Come on, Pix. You’re going to have to do a bit better than that. She rubs her hand up the back of her calf.

    “Please,” I say with a swallow that’s almost painful. “Can you keep those shoes on?”

    “Okay. That’s a good start. Do you want to come over here?”

    “I mean, I do, but I also sort of don’t. Like, what will you do to me?”

    “Nothing you don’t want.” She sits up, then leans back on the bed, arms behind her.

    I’m sure I’m blushing. “Some things I don’t want might sort of be okay.”

    “Alright. Well how about we do this. I’ll tell you what to do and you do it. Would you like that?”

    “Sounds easy.”

    “That depends what I tell you to do.”

    “Are you gonna tell me to solve a quadratic equation?”

    “No. I mean, unless you’re really into that.”

    “I don’t think so. Although, I could actually probably do that.”

    “Why don’t you come and sit down here. On the bed. I have an idea that might help.”

    I do it. I walk into the room and I sit down on the bed and, as I do, she stands up and moves so she is standing in front of me. I look up at her and wonder if I look as desperate for her as I feel.

    I guess the answer is probably because she smiles, reaches behind herself and unfastens her dress. The leather releases its hold on her, the elegant curves of the top part fall away from her tits and then the whole thing drops off her body and I am sitting there on the bed, looking at her in her underwear.

    And underwear is a totally inadequate word for what she is wearing.

    She’s wearing a black corset, with suspender straps to her stockings, the thin glassy ones I was mesmerised by earlier. Above the corset she has a strapless lace bra that makes her tits look like they were drawn by someone who’d never heard of gravity. I’m dying. I’m fucking dead. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful this close up. I would do anything, absolutely anything to be allowed to bury my face in her pussy and find out what sound she made when she came.

    Slowly, watching my face, she lifts her hands up and I notice those perfect red ovals of her fingernails. She does something behind her head and her hair falls out of the beehive ’do and bounces down around her face like a big dark cloud — and the effect of this is to reanimate my already lifeless corpse and then instantly kill me dead again, because she just got more beautiful and it really defies all the laws of the universe that something like that could have happened.

    She just keeps on standing there, in front of me. Weight on one hip and I can hardly stand to look at her. At any of her.

    “Holy shit,” I whisper to my hands.

    “How does this make you feel?” she says, a touch smugly. But I can’t begrudge it.

    It makes me feel like I can’t deny her anything. Especially not an honest answer. So I say, “Like I’d do anything you said just to keep looking at you.”

    “Good, that’s the idea.” She bends forward a little, which gives me an astonishing view of her tits and says, in a quieter voice, as if this is a secret, “That’s what I hoped would happen.”

    “Fuck,” I say on a breath, like I have no other words. “Sorry, but, fuck.”

    “What?”

    I don’t know what to say, so I say, “I just noticed those seams up the back of your stocking.”

    “Er, yes,” she says, twisting her leg slightly so I can see them better, thick and dark. “Do you have a thing for that?”    

    Do I have a thing? Do I have a fucking thing for the lines drawn up your legs like a route map to your pussy. I don’t know, Lois? Do I? Fucking do I? “Who wouldn’t?”

    “Well it is certainly popular with you. You like fems, huh? Do all your girlfriends wear this kind of stuff?”

    “Not really. I’ve only had one, my ex-girlfriend. Rachel. And she was fem, but not, like this. She was a big pants girl, she didn’t wear all this fancy stuff. Carol does,” I add, sort of randomly.

    “Who’s Carol?”

    “An old university friend.”

    “A friend who wears the lingerie you like?”

    “Well, yeah, but that makes it sound like that’s why we’re friends. It’s a coincidence she dresses like that.”

    “I’m surprised that if you like it so much you haven’t dated someone who wears it before.” She lets that before hang there, like it could mean just ‘in the past’ or it could

mean before dating her, like, we’re gonna date.

    “Sure, but it’s problematic isn’t it?”

    “Is it?”

    “Yeah. Expecting women to dress up in this stuff that’s uncomfortable and expensive and time consuming just for the male gaze, and also my gaze.”

    “You know Pix, you’re right. This stuff is uncomfortable and expensive and time consuming, but when you look at me like that I’m pretty sure it’s worth it. I like feeling powerful, and right now I feel like I have so much power over you, I could just…” Casually – and evilly – Lois adjusts her suspender strap as if it’s an absent-minded gesture.

    “Jesus.”

* * *

Wicked Fem ©2021 by Edie Marr

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Edie Marr lives in Brighton and writes kinky sapphic romances set in her hometown, the UK's beautiful queer city by the sea. She is known for her quirky characters and searing-hot sex scenes.

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MUSIC FROM STONE BY BRENDA MURPHY

Blurb:

Celebrated concert pianist Nüwa Zhou had it all. Until she didn’t. Forced out of the closet while testifying at the kidnapping and murder trial of her obsessive former assistant turned stalker, she retires from the high-pressure world of performing to recover at her parents’ estate.

Stone mason, and frustrated sculptor Julia Johnson, spends her days stone building walls and patios while dreaming of quitting her day job.

After a chance encounter with Julia leads to more, Nüwa imagines a life with Julia. When her stalker returns, determined to kidnap Nüwa and end anyone who stands in his way, Nüwa will do whatever it takes to keep Julia safe, but will it be enough?

Tell us about this scene:

In this scene, the lead characters in Music from Stone (Ninestar Press 2022), Nüwa and Julia realize the nature of their attraction. This is their second meeting after spending an afternoon trapped in a storm cellar during a violent storm.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love this scene because it perfectly sets up the nature of Julia and Nüwa's desire for each other. The flames of their attraction are fanned during a brief encounter in a way neither expected.

* * *

Excerpt:

Nüwa strode out of the kitchen. She yanked open the sliding door to the terrace and walked out into the cool spring air. Julia waved from where she stood in the yard. Nüwa lifted her hand in greeting. A wave of dread swept over her as Julia started toward the terrace. A sense of standing naked even as she was fully clothed. A fine sweat worked its way along her hairline. Run. Run to the house. Lock the door. Pull the curtain. No. She could do this. Julia had been kind even when Nüwa had been a hot mess in the basement.

Nüwa swallowed her excuses and focused on grounding herself. She could feel the heat from the sun-warmed stones under her feet, smell the damp humid scent of spring lushness, and hear the birds flitting among the trees. She fidgeted with her top and smoothed a hand over her hair.

Julia stopped at the steps leading to the terrace. “Good morning.”

“Yes. I mean, good morning.” Nüwa grimaced at her mindless parroting of Julia’s greeting. “What are you doing here?” And now a flush stole over her. “I mean—”

“Dropping off my rent check to Gerald and talking about the repairs to the maze and this wall.” Julia pointed to the wall at the far end of the terrace. “I have some stones that will work here. My brother will help me move them next weekend. The maze will be a longer-term project.” She stepped up on the first step. “I need to check this part to see if I need to do any work up here. If I’ll be in your way, I’ll come back later.”

Nüwa stepped back toward the house. “No. I wasn’t going to. I didn’t have any plans.” Fuck, she was babbling. Julia’s confused expression was proof she was not making sense. She looked away from Julia’s face. Her gaze landed on Julia’s bracelets. A peace settled over her. She could be that. She could draw on the part of herself that thrived on control. Nüwa inhaled deeply. She lifted her chin, straightened her posture. “I’ll watch you work. Unless you mind?”

Julia held her gaze a long moment before she lowered it. “I don’t mind at all, if it pleases you.”

Her subtle shift in behavior, the way she deferred to Nüwa’s wishes and her readiness in obeying Nüwa, lit her up from the inside. “Good.”

Julia climbed the five steps up to the terrace. She stopped in front of Nüwa, set her sketch pad and tape measure aside. She held Nüwa’s gaze as she peeled off her jacket, folded it carefully, and placed it on the low wall surrounding the terrace. Nüwa raked her gaze over Julia’s thick frame. Her wide shoulders begged to be stroked and Nüwa’s palms itched to touch her. When Julia bent to retrieve her sketch pad and tape measure, her jeans displayed the curve of her ass perfectly.

Julia straightened and moved to the far end of the terrace. She kneeled and sat back on her heels. She lifted her head and met Nüwa’s gaze. Desire crashed through Nüwa. Julia tilted her head to the side. “Would you help me?”

“What do you need?” Nüwa settled into her true self.

“I need to anchor the end of this to something.” Julia held up the end of the tape measure.

Nüwa strode to where Julia kneeled. Julia placed the end of the tape on the paver and gazed up at her, pupils wide. It took every bit of Nüwa’s self-control to not lean down, draw her thumb over Julia’s full lower lip, and kiss her. They stared at each other as recognition and understanding flowed between them, a current of desire unchecked in the moment. Nüwa placed the toe of her shoe on the end of the measure to anchor it and rested her hands on her hips. The power pose settled over her skin. She let every bit of the Mistress she had buried rise to the surface of her soul. She lifted her chin. “Like this?”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Julia whispered, her cheeks reddened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Nüwa held up her hand, palm out to silence her. “Don’t apologize.”

Julia lowered her chin to her chest.

“Look at me.” Nüwa softened her tone.

Julia peered up at Nüwa.

“Never be ashamed of who you are.” Nüwa drew her fingers though the fine curls covering the crown of Julia’s head. Her phone alarm jangled in her front pocket. She yanked her hand away from Julia. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Julia sat back on her heels, expression shuttered, gaze steady. “It’s fine. I’m used to working alone.”

* * *

Music from Stone ©2022 by Brenda Murphy

Published by NineStar Press

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from NineStar Press

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Brenda Murphy is published with Ninestar Press. She writes erotica and romance. Her novel, Double Six, is a 2020 Goldie winner. The first book in her new small-town romance series On the Square was a 2021 Goldie finalist. She loves sideshows and tattoos, and yes, those are her monkeys.

Sign up here for Brenda Murphy ’s author newsletter.

ON THE RECORD BY RAVEN J. SPENCER

Blurb:

Out and proud lesbian singer/songwriter Emmy Whittaker is not amused when her manager books her on Andrea Stone's show. She has worked hard to build a following. That includes many younger fans who trust her to have their backs.

Stone, who has a reputation for hearing differing opinions on controversial issues, doesn't fit the bill. For the concessions Andrea has made, she's been rewarded with a stellar career and considerable wealth. In her opinion, the sacrifices have been worth it.

Meeting Emmy shakes her beliefs.

A fateful decision they make leads her to understand that sometimes, the cost of compromise can be too high...

Tell us about this scene:

After a tense first interview, Emmy and Andrea run into each other again at a party. Andrea suggest continuing the conversation elsewhere, and it's getting harder for both of them to deny the attraction between them.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love the push and pull between the characters at this point. They know there is no way they "can meet in the middle", and it's unlikely that they could have a relationship, but attraction and temptation override all doubts.

* * *

Excerpt:

Emmy Whittaker, a lesbian singer/songwriter, and Andrea Stone, a conservative TV host, clash on almost every issue possible. But neither one can deny the sparks between them…

The atmosphere and the nice crisp pinot made the setting a lot more comfortable than the interview had been. Or perhaps she was just getting used to Andrea’s company. Andrea, taking her to a lesbian bar. Her mouth went dry all of a sudden, her heart beating faster.

“Who doesn’t? I bet you don’t fully disagree with Sally and Peter on everything, or how they made all this money, but you don’t yell in their faces.”

Emmy didn’t know if her face was burning because she had laid her dilemma open, or for another reason.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Andrea hurried to say. “You want to get your message out to as many people as possible, you need someone to help you amplify it. This is how it works.”

“What’s your message?”

“That we don’t have to hate each other,” Andrea said with surprising passion.

Both of them took another sip.

“I don’t hate anyone,” Emmy said. “I just want them to stop. Look, me, I can be out and proud, it’s easy. I have a great family, friends who didn’t blink, and I have money. I can live the life I want, but not everyone’s that lucky. Especially if they’re young. Look around. We can come here to have fun. Some people have nowhere else to go.”

“I’m well aware of that, believe me.” She looked troubled for a moment so brief Emmy thought she might have imagined it. “Not everyone can burn all bridges. I know you probably think they should, but it’s not that simple. Some love their imperfect family and friends and want them in their lives.”

“Even if they don’t love you back?”

“That’s not for you to decide.” Andrea shook her head as if to underline her words, reaching for her glass again.

“Why this place?”

“Because I wanted to show you I can walk in and not turn to stone?”

It didn’t sound like a joke, so Emmy didn’t laugh.

“I don’t know if I’m a voice of reason, but my voice is a different one. Frowned upon left and right, for sure, but I believe it matters. The people who write to me, who are heartbroken over endless family feuds and such, do too. I’m sorry if that isn’t enough.”

“I don’t know if it is, but you don’t have to care about that. In fact, you don’t have to care about anything I say.”

“Maybe not.” Picking up the bottle, Andrea refilled their glasses. “I’ve been listening to your album. I’m not telling you anything new, but you’re very talented.”

“Is this where you’ll say not to waste any opportunities over politics? Don’t worry, Brad will take care of that, sending me to all the right places.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Andrea smiled over the rim of her glass, and all of a sudden, the atmosphere changed.

It didn’t make any sense. Emmy couldn’t explain her reaction. “Sorry. What were you going to say?”

“It’s very intense. Deep. I enjoyed it.” Andrea lowered her voice, and Emmy had to lean closer to understand. “I thought about contacting you. I didn’t know that you were going to be at the Madisons.”

“You wanted to discuss the album?”

“Not really,” Andrea said, laying her hand over Emmy’s, fingers brushing her skin in a sensual touch.

“You’re straight.”

“You’re making assumptions again. I figured there’d only be a small window to correct some of them and…maybe I want to. Maybe I’m not completely indifferent to what you think of me.”

Emmy figured it was mostly the wine talking, and a part of her didn’t mind. She and Andrea would never see eye to eye on many issues, and how to deal with them. She liked having the opportunity to see a different aspect of her. A possibility.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the album,” she said, the warmth spreading throughout her body not entirely from the alcohol. Either way, it was welcome. Not dating anyone in such a long time might have been a bad idea. No, that wasn’t fair. Andrea Stone might have her faults, but something about her drew Emmy to her. Shallow reasons, and others.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

They didn’t talk for some time after that, the silence stretching between them until the waitress arrived. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I think we’ll have some champagne,” Emmy told her.

“Great. Coming right up.”

“What was that for? We could have had all the champagne in the world earlier.”

“I know. But I like it here. Thank you for showing me the place.”

“You’re welcome.”

Andrea waited until they’d been provided with more drinks.

“I know it’s a little different in your case because it’s more personal, but I am not my job, and neither are you, right? We are more than that.”

Staring at the sparkling liquid rather than into Andrea’s dark eyes, Emmy wondered if she was letting her off the hook too easily. She might be right, but the job, what it represented, mattered.

A different voice. That was too easy. But yet, Emmy was still here.

“Your boss, and your co-workers, do they appreciate your different voice? Do they listen?”

Andrea seemed to be taken aback by that question.

“Does Brad listen to your suggestions?”

Laughing, Emmy refilled their glasses.

“We could do this all night, couldn’t we?”

“You’re right, but I could think of something more fun. Would you trust me one more time?”

“Do I have any reason not to? What did you want to do with me?”

“That depends.”

Andrea held her gaze, and all of a sudden, the temperature in the room spiked. Emmy shifted on her seat, aware of the images on her mind that were far from her words and its meaning.

She didn’t trust Andrea to confront her guests in a manner they needed to be confronted.

* * *

On The Record ©2021 by Raven J. Spencer

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Raven J. Spencer, lesbian, married, loves everything sensual and indulgent. When she's not writing, you can often find her on Instagram in the pursuit of inspiration and cheesecake recipes.

MAY I CALL YOU MISTRESS? BY RUBY SCOTT

Blurb:

If the woman that filled your teenage sexual fantasies walks back into your life seventeen years later, more beautiful and bolder than you thought possible, would you be able to resist?

Photographer Abby Mason comes to her friends rescue, stepping in at the last minute to cover a product shoot, but when she meets the client, the stunning redhead, Victoria Fraser, Abby's world changes forever.

When the power of fantasy consumes reality, Abby has only one question, "May I Call You Mistress?"

The most intoxicating moments in life are ones we earn. But how hard would you work for one of those moments?

Tell us about this scene:

Abby, a photographer turns up at a product photo shoot she is covering at the last minute for a colleague but when she arrives she is in for a shock. The client is her little sisters old piano tutor who she hasn't seen for almost twenty years, the woman who filled every teenage sexual fantasy.

This scene happens mid way through the book when Victoria gives Abby a tour around their Airbnb property which has been developed for guests with very niche tastes... The sexual tension between them crackles as the tour continues and Abby takes her first step into a brave new world of desire.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I struggle to find a favourite, out of all my favourite scenes, but as a writer I love creating sexual tension and writing this scene was fun, espacially as it's the spark that ignites Victoria and Abby's relationship. As I may have mentioned before Victoria and Abby have a special place in my heart, in part because it makes readers ask who are they more like? Victoria, the femme fatale domme, or Abby, the deliciously innocent sub?

* * *

Excerpt:

With a shudder, Abby wrapped her arms around her body and followed. Every one of her senses was on high alert and she had to break into a trot to catch up. When Victoria stopped at the large bookcase on the back wall, she had no choice than to make an abrupt stop behind her.

Abby shot her a quizzical look.

“Open for me.” On Victoria’s command, the bookcase slid to the right, revealing a metal door with a touchpad, similar to the one which had appeared from behind the picture. Again, Victoria placed her palm on the dark glass and the door slid open. “We programme the biometrics when each group arrives. That way, they choose who controls access.”

A series of spotlights lit the stairs down to the large space. It wasn’t dark or vaguely dungeon like, with black painted walls as Abby had imagined. It was a bright space…with a cage in the corner.

Evidently aware of Abby’s discomfort Victoria, placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “It’s a spectrum,” she said. “We can partition off areas either physically or with lighting.” Then, lowering her voice, she gave two orders, “Zonal Lightning. Couch only.”

The low, commanding voice made Abby shudder; in a good way.

For a second, the entire room fell into darkness. Then, with a theatrical flair befitting London’s West End, a single soft light fell across an oddly shaped chaise lounge. It was as though this was the only thing in the room and the cage had disappeared. Victoria gestured towards the light with a sweeping hand and Abby walked towards it.

“The curves allow support for different positions. Restraints can be attached to the hooks.” Abby squinted. In front of her was an exquisite piece of furniture. She would have never seen the hasps if Victoria hadn’t pointed them out. Alison had obviously taken some inspiration from the classic Chesterfield, and Abby reckoned the dark leather would make it easy to clean. Victoria lifted a discarded short riding crop that lay on the cushion. The older woman ran it through her fingers as though she too remembered the music baton. Abby’s insides shook.

“Bend across its curves and get a feel for it.” This time, Victoria’s words were softer, making it feel more of a suggestion than an order. Abby wondered if it was in response to her reaction to seeing the cage.

Running her hand along the curves, Abby took in the cool, stiff leather. The suppleness would come with use, but for now everything was new. She stopped at one end. The height was perfect, and she leant forward, parting her legs a little. “Like this?” she asked coyly.

Abby swallowed as she felt the warmth of Victoria’s body behind her.

“Your legs need to be a little wider.”

A foot kicked towards Abby’s sneakers, forcing her legs farther apart.

Not feet, I want your hands. She was mentally willing Victoria to slide down the loose sweats and take her right there and then. But she didn’t. Instead, Victoria stood very still. Abby could feel her warmth. That beautiful firm body was right next to her, and she’d spread herself wide open in offer, but frustratingly, nothing happened.

Abby wanted to scream.

“We’ve still got the exhibitionist’s room to show you.” Victoria said, but as she turned, her hand brushed high against the top of Abby’s inner thigh. Abby’s breath hitched, but before she could fathom whether the move had been accidental or deliberate, Victoria had stepped away. “Zonal lighting off.”

The entire space was once again immersed in light. Straightening up, Abby squirmed to loosen the sodden silk which had attached itself to her centre. The cage was back in view, as were a set of stocks and some rather serious looking benches, all of which she hadn’t seen before, primarily because she had been so horrified at seeing a cage. Rows of whips and floggers, in presentation cases, lined the walls next to an array of moveable shackles that appeared to be on tracks. Height adjustable. How practical.

There was an element of relief when they made their way back up to ground level. As much as having Victoria so close to her had been both frustrating and delicious, there was more in the basement that gave her discomfort than excitement. But would Victoria be less interested in her if she admitted that?

The bed seemed even bigger, as did the window, now she was on the other side of the glass which she had peered through yesterday. Crisp white sateen sheets were so tightly spread across the bed Abby reckoned she could have bounced a coin on the surface.

Given the place is so new, has anyone ‘done’ anything on the bed? She wondered.

“Try it out. I think this might be more your thing.” Victoria offered a warm smile.

“It’s so perfect. I’ll just crease it.”

“You’re supposed to be helping me with snagging, remember?”

Bashfully, although in truth, there wasn’t that much encouragement needed, Abby stepped up onto the platform and climbed on the bed. The pose she chose was the one which had been so much fun last night. Starfished to every corner, she again closed her eyes, imagining the restraints.

“So the idea of being tied up turns you on?” Victoria’s breath whispered against her ear, causing Abby to inhale fast and deep. The red head was on the platform just behind her. “Imagine a row of people sitting behind that glass watching you. They’re all here to see me take you. To claim you.” Victoria’s hand reached over Abby’s shoulder, running her fingertips along the smooth skin of her collarbone and then down.

“Oh, god,” Abby groaned.

“They’re here to watch you come. Again and again. So many times…” Victoria’s hand was sliding down over Abby’s stomach.

“Please.” Abby’s plea had an edge of desperation that couldn’t even begin to convey her need. This was beyond anything she had experienced, and the only thing that scared her was that it might stop.

There was a slight crackle, as though a static energy was filling the air, and then, without warning, every light came to life. Victoria’s hand stilled.

“Alison and Mhairi are here.” Victoria nodded up to the now bright window, where Abby saw two women smiling back.

A rush of excitement coursed through her body. “Don’t stop.” Without a conscious thought, her body’s need was beyond any shyness. Having Victoria take her was the only thing that mattered and having that happen as others witnessed her surrender was—just—FUCK.

For a moment, Victoria’s hand went lower, gliding over her belly button and lifting the very top of the silk panties. Abby’s legs widened in anticipation. This was everything she wanted, right here, right now. She was going to be Victoria’s…

And then she wasn’t.

Victoria pulled back, placing a delicate kiss on her cheek. “We should talk over dinner.”

Abby tried to hold back a whimper. The frustration was so overwhelming that tears pricked her eyes.

“Let me help you up.” Victoria held out her hand and when Abby grasped it, she pulled the younger woman to her feet. “I’ll introduce to Alison. You can tell her how much you appreciate her creations.”

Abby nodded. She didn’t want to appear like some petulant two-year-old or, even worse, a surly teenager. Christ, imagine if she acted like the angst-ridden teenager Victoria remembered from all those years ago. The irony of being unable to get laid as a mature woman, because of a fourteen-year-old’s crush, was soul destroying. With a deep breath, she swallowed down her arousal and put on her most demure smile.

“Dinner would be good.”

“Good. That was what I needed to hear.” There wasn’t a smugness to Victoria’s reply, but Abby couldn’t shake the feeling she was undergoing a series of tests and the outcome evaluated.

Damn. No matter how hard she tried, she was never any good at passing exams and practicals were even more daunting.

* * *

May I Call You Mistress? ©2022 by Ruby Scott

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Ruby Scott lives in a quiet village nestled in the Scottish hills with her wife, Angie, and their furry little girl, Bailey. Endless curiosity combined with a love of traveling and books, Ruby is never without adventure, and she invites you to join her.

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WORKING FROM HOME BY SAM KESTREL

Blurb:

Turned on by the sight of a beautiful woman, Jo’s new business won’t just serve her clients. She loves sex and getting paid for it under the pretense of helping women who are questioning their sexuality is a job that she’s excited to start. Just ask her interior designer.

Tell us about this scene:

This is near the start of the first story in the Working From Home series. Jo has a business helping women who are questioning their sexuality and runs it out of a redone shed in her backyard. Kim, Jo's client, has just entered the shed.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Honestly, it's because it's the first story in my first publication on Amazon. I'd written several pieces for Medium but this was my first go at self-publishing, and I was amazed that I could not only write interesting stories but erotic ones that portray women as strong and self confident.

* * *

Excerpt:

Jo walked up to Kim so they were standing face-to-face and put her hands on her shoulders. “There are no rules here. Well, except that no means no and I won’t have violence of any kind. But other than that, whatever helps you relax is fine with me.”

Kim nodded her head before finding her voice. “No, I’m good.” 

“I do require payment in advance.”

“Yes, of course.” Kim opened her purse, a black clutch with antique rhinestones, and pulled out two hundred dollars in cash. Jo took the money, placed it in the bedside table which she locked, placing the small key in her back pocket, and stepped back to the woman who seemed to have grown roots in her feet.

Jo placed her hands on the sides of Kim’s face, held her head in her hands, pulled her toward her and kissed her gently on the lips. Kim stood there, not returning the kiss but not pulling back either. Jo kissed both sides of her face, her forehead, her eyelids, the sides of her neck—the woman’s body relaxed—before returning to her lips. The stranger’s mouth opened slightly, allowing Jo’s tongue to enter and explore, titillate.

Jo increased the intensity of her kiss. Kim began to kiss her back and soon they were making out as if they were lovers. One of Jo’s hands went to the woman’s ass and pulled her into her. Kim’s hands were now on Jo’s back and Jo knew she had her.

Jo guided her to the wall between the bookcase and the nightstand, a space Jo intentionally kept free for times like this. With Kim’s back against the wall, they continued to make out. Jo found the button and zipper of the doctor’s slacks and undid both. Breaking free from the kiss, Jo slid Kim’s pants and underwear down to the floor. She squatted, removing Kim’s shoes before sliding the pants off first one leg, then the other.

Moving to her knees, Jo placed her hands on Kim’s hips, pushing her gently, letting her know to stay where she was. Jo’s hand moved between Kim’s legs, where she parted Kim’s lips, teasing with a finger. The woman who, per her email, was questioning her sexuality after being in a straight marriage for twenty years, let out a soft groan and moved her legs, each a little more to the side. 

Jo brought her face to her hand and licked the woman’s clit, feeling her shudder. Sensing further foreplay was unnecessary, Jo put both hands on the woman’s ass, pulled her into her face and sucked on her clit, eliciting a gasp. She backed off and began encircling Kim’s clit with her tongue, fast and then slow, with pressure and then so gently her tongue might as well have been a leaf.

Kim threw her head back and moaned. Her knees bent, threatening to buckle. Jo stood up and guided her to the bed. Jo flicked off her shoes before unbuttoning Kim’s shirt, keeping her eyes on the doctor’s, knowing as she did this that most women wanted to look away, feeling shy at this point, but also unable to. Jo continued to hold eye contact while she pulled her own shirt over her head. She put a hand on Kim’s shoulder and pushed gently. Kim obliged by lying on her back. Jo sat on top of her.

Jo held certain boundaries in her business. She did the touching and the fucking. Not the other way around. But she knew that most women who were questioning their sexuality, or who just wanted to explore, were intrigued and excited by the thought of touching another woman’s breasts. And Jo also knew that her breasts, mid-sized and still upright—she did a lot of push-ups to keep them this way—excited most people who saw them.

* * *

Working From Home ©2022 by Sam Kestrel

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Sam Kestrel is the pen name for a quiet, behind-the-scenes kind of gal who can't believe she had the guts to start writing erotica. In her other life she writes children's books and decided that it's best to keep these pen names separate.

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THE BARTENDER'S PRIDE BY TJ DALLAS

Blurb:

This *erotica novel follows Lara as she moves to a new city and comes to terms with her desire for another woman; a seductive bartender with a supernatural secret.

Lara’s world is turned upside down when her boyfriend cheats on her with her best friend and she’s forced to move to a new city. Desperate for money, she lands a job in an LGBT nightclub, but her racing heart and inappropriate thoughts about the club’s owner, Harry, must have everything to do with the stress she’s under. She’s not gay.

There’s something about Harry. She’s stunning, cocky, and looks far too good in a shirt and tie, ignoring the fact she’s telepathic and can read Lara’s emotions like a book. Harry is one of seven managers at the Cardinal, and she has a set of skills that can help Lara, but she has to manage her own feelings about three of the other managers in the meantime—Lust, Gluttony, and Envy.

When things go downhill for Lara, can Harry ultimately make her proud of who she is without admitting their deadly secret? Or will Lara’s shame, depression, and her homophobic parents, lead her down a path of destruction?

Tell us about this scene:

This is the moment that Lara, a mortal (and the 'Bartender' of the book's name) learns who her boss, and the other sexy women in the building, really are.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I have six books in the erotic Cardinal series, and they can be hard to explain with so few words. I think this scene from the first book really shows a new reader what they're getting into; it's paranormal, sapphic, sexy, and intriguing. In my (admittedly biased) opinion, I think it introduces the main characters of the series quite well, and hopefully it entices a few more readers to check out the books!

* * *

Excerpt:

“No, she’s right, Althea. It’s time we explain.” Harry finally had the decency to look me in the eye. “I’m warning you, though: after we tell you, you might wish we hadn’t. Do you still want to know?” 

“Yes.”

Harry shrugged, then sat in her chair and put her feet up. “Do you want to sit?”

“No, I’ll stand. Tell me.”

She took a final draw on her cigarette before she answered. “There are fourteen of us in total. Two groups of seven.” She hesitated while she extinguished it. “We’re not like you. Or Zoe, or Cody.”

Well, that’s fucking obvious.

Harry eyed me disapprovingly. “What I mean is, we’re not mortal. I’m a lot older than you think I am.” 

“How old?” She’d lied to me?

She looked up at the ceiling. “I actually don’t know. I know it’s over two thousand six hundred. Althea?”

“Two thousand, six hundred and eight,” Althea mumbled, keeping her eyes down.

“That’s it.”

“Fuck off,” I scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, her smile disappearing. “You wanted the truth, pet. If you don’t want to accept it, that’s up to you. That’s not my problem.”

I laughed and shook my head. “All right, humour me. What else?”

“Well, if you don’t believe my age, you won’t believe the next thing I’m about to tell you, so why should I bother?”

I sighed, exasperated. “Fine. I believe you. What else?”

“I know you’re lying, but whatever. We’re the Seven Deadly Sins.”

The finality and bluntness of her answer took me by surprise. I hadn’t realised she’d finished speaking, nor did the words register in my mind for a few seconds afterward. I blinked and asked, “What?”

“We’re the Seven Deadly Sins,” she repeated. Her face was unreadable, and I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. She sat motionless, observing me closely.

I threw my hands up in despair. “I give up. If you won’t be honest, I’m not wasting my time.” I stormed towards the door but stopped when Althea stood in front of me.

“She’s telling the truth, toots,” she murmured. She couldn’t look me in the eye.

I turned around, and Harry was grinning with her hands interlaced behind her head, leaning back in her chair. I faced Althea. “I’m asking for God’s honest truth. What is she talking about?”

“Sit down,” she said, smiling.

She motioned towards the chair in front of Harry’s desk, and I sank into it. I remembered sitting here for my job interview almost two years ago. My eyes landed on the seven symbols on the wall.

Althea sat on the edge of the desk. “We are the Seven Deadly Sins. Well, it’s a misnomer; we’re not really deadly. At least, most of us aren’t,” she added, but she turned around and playfully clipped Harry around the ear. Harry laughed and grabbed her wrist as she tried to pull away.

Althea turned back to me. “Think about it. What are the Seven Deadly Sins?”

I started listing them on my fingers. “Sloth, Greed, Wrath, Gluttony.” I went quiet as I tried to remember the other three.

“Riley, Bella, Emilia, and Georgia,” Althea said. “Riley sleeps all day and runs a hotel. It’s full of beds, for God’s sake. Bella owns the casino, a literal gold mine of greedy punters looking to win big or chase their losses. Emilia is as strong as an ox, and she offers damn good anger management in the gym, if you can survive her workouts. And Georgia actually named her child after the food and drink of Greek gods. Can you remember a time when she wasn’t eating or preparing meals in the restaurant?”

I looked at the floor and frowned. I’d never thought about those aspects of the other managers before. I just figured they each had their own preference, their own careers. Althea and Harry were silent, letting me think it through.

“Envy. Lust,” I continued.

“Madison. Me.” Althea winked. “And?”

“Pride,” I said, breathing hard.

I locked eyes with Harry. They were bright, fierce, and unrelenting. The corner of her lip pulled up in a grin.

I’m amazed it took you that long to figure it out, pet.

That was why she was so goddamn cocky. My mind started to spiral. Not only was she arrogant and full of confidence by nature, but she was for gay pride. That was how she’d known I was gay, and that was why she’d made it her personal mission to make sure I was proud of that. That was why she ran an LGBTQIA nightclub. Is that why I’d got the job in the first place? Was I a project for her, to add to her list of conquests? My mind raced.

I was getting hot, and my palms sweated. My breathing grew shallow as more realisations fell into place. All the staff at the club. They all had something they needed to be proud of, and they’d come to Harry for help. Bryan, whose parents had disowned him after he’d informed them he didn’t wish to be known by his birth name. Logan, who’d faced ridicule and embarrassment from fellow soldiers in the Army Reserves. Alex, who had been bullied throughout high school for her tomboyish demeanour. Everything fired through my brain at high speed.

Althea runs a sex club. Of course she does; what else would Lust do?

I thought of Riley’s insane ability to make people fall asleep, as if she’d clicked her fingers. I thought of the incredible wave of jealousy I’d felt, moments after speaking to Madison.

The tattoos on their necks. I felt like an idiot, blind to what had been right in front of me the entire time. Those symbols had been framed at the back of Harry’s office since I’d started, and I hadn’t put two and two together. I took a few deep breaths, my heart pounding in my chest. Despite everything, I was still sceptical.

* * *

The Bartender's Pride ©2020 by TJ Dallas

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Hi, I'm TJ, and I'm a Scottish author of erotica and erotic romance. I have self-published nine books so far and working on more. I'm 34, married, and one a dog called Toby.

Sign up here for TJ Dallas ’s author newsletter.

HISTORICAL ROMANCE

WARM PEARLS AND PAPER CRANES BY E.V. BANCROFT

Blurb:

Maud Heaston has been in love with Beatrice Williams since they first met in 1939. They’ve been through hell and back; family, careers, and secrets have threatened to tear them apart, but their love has endured it all. Until now. Old age and illness have forced them into separate nursing homes and the family Maud trusted to take care of them are only out for themselves.

Hannah Jones is trying to put her past behind her and find her place in the world. Midway through a doctorate and living with Suki, the woman she’d like to be more than just friends with, the last thing she needs is Gammy, her interfering great aunt, back in her life. Though Gammy took Hannah in when her mother died, her overbearing nature and constant criticisms forced them apart. Now they barely speak.

Maud needs Hannah’s help to be reunited with the love of her life. Hannah needs Suki to take a chance on love. Can a reconciliation between Maud and Hannah free them both to be with the women they love or will the past destroy their future?

Tell us about this scene:

It's 1941, and Maud is waiting to see Bea so they can spend the night together. They've been apart for a while and only been able to keep in contact via phone occasionally. This is the first time they get to explore their connection intimately.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

The reason I chose the railway station scene was because I wanted to show how life was during World War 2, how people were separated from their loved ones doing their duty, and how people's whole lives had been displaced because of the war. This was even more difficult in the case of a sapphic relationship which had to be kept hidden. The key themes of the book are about duty, lies and secrets and the unintended consequences of them.

In the contemporary timeline, the consequences of Maud and Bea's hidden life are still being felt. Having secrets for many years causes deep rifts within Maud's family and threatens to tear it apart. The story is how they deal with those consequences; will Maud's estranged great niece help her or will Maud be separated from her soul mate for life?

* * *

Excerpt:

Maud stepped onto the concourse at Euston Station and was engulfed by a cacophony of sounds. Whistles blew, steam hissed from the engines, and a blue and khaki torrent of people swept past her. She made her way through the throng to check the whereabouts of Bea’s train. It was due in half an hour, but passenger transport was often delayed to allow for troop or goods trains to come and go. She had no choice but to witness the people greeting each other, shouting, parting, crying.

 A hollowed-eyed, bomb-crazed wreck of a man in uniform slunk into the shadows, trying to escape the terror of whatever was playing in his head. The war was bound to change Harry, but she hoped he wouldn’t be like that and offered a prayer for his safety.

Maud clung to the pillars as each train arrived that could bring Bea. With each delay and disappointment, she worried whether Bea had been delayed on her overnight shift or hadn’t been able to make it at all. Particles of soot drifted down like solemn confetti, reminding her how dirty and noisy the city was.

A woman with two children struggled and dropped two cardboard suitcases, probably containing all her worldly belongings. Maud stepped across the fast-flowing current of bodies. “Can I help?” 

A mixture of fear and relief washed across the woman’s face.

“Where are you going?” Maud said.

“’Hemel Hempstead train. Platform three. Thank you, sir.” Her eyes widened. “Miss.”

Maud snatched up the cases, making light work of them as months of farm labour paid off. She strode towards the platform. Did she really look that masculine? Gawky and big-boned, yes, but enough so that she could be mistaken for a man? She glanced down at her best Land Army uniform, a mix of green and orange-brown, misfitting breeches, socks, and a shapeless overcoat; the woman had a point. What if Bea saw her that way too?

“Thank you, miss. Sorry about back there,” the woman said in her broad East End accent. 

She’d probably just lost her home, and Maud was worried about how she looked. She shook her head to clear her misplaced perspective. “No problem. Have a safe trip.” Maud lifted the cases into the carriage. “Move along inside, please.” Months of bellowing at the cows gave her the confidence to shout out. People squeezed together to let the family in, and Maud swung the cases onto the overhead racks and lifted the children into the carriage. The little girl was around Violet’s age, but her expression was one of terror. Maud smiled and felt inside her pocket for the two boiled sweets she had meant to share with Bea. “Here you go.” She placed one in the grubby palm of each child. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, miss.”

Maud nodded and re-entered the stream of haunted humanity. Returning to her place by the columns, she scanned the crowds, her heart jolting with everyone who had a passing resemblance to Bea. Then amongst a sea of bobbing berets and caps, there was a hat covering blonde hair scraped in a bun, a double-breasted jacket, and tie. The face looked pale but healthy, tired but radiant, and definitely Bea.

Maud whooped and focused in on her smile as she faced the stampede. And then Bea, beautiful Bea was in touching distance. A pang of shyness slipped in uninvited. Should she kiss her, hug her? Maud should have been elated, and she was, but a mix of anxiety and uncertainty bubbled below the surface. It had been nearly two years since they’d seen each other in person, and the war would have changed them both, the way it had distorted everyone else. She was no longer the naive girl she once was. She’d lost a brother and grafted for long hours in hard manual labour, she was contributing to the war effort and was earning her own money. It wasn’t much, but it was the first strike for independence.

The radiance of Bea’s smile dissolved her concern like the sun burns away the fog, and Bea threw herself into Maud’s arms. Together, they laughed in delight as Maud swung Bea around in a tight embrace. 

“Put me down, put me down, or I’ll be sick.” Bea laughed.

Maud let Bea slide down and pulled apart to reacquaint herself with her love, noticing minor changes and reassuring herself in the similarities. 

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Bea said.

 The years and distance slipped away, and they were staring intently, reading each other’s faces as they had a lifetime away in Staffordshire. Suddenly remembering their surroundings, Maud said, “You must be starving. I’m afraid I don’t have enough for an expensive restaurant, but I’m told the Communal Feeding Centres offer hearty grub at reasonable prices.”

“I thought exactly the same. And I have the accommodation booked. But maybe we could take in the cinema beforehand?”

The thrill of sharing a room with Bea slipped down Maud’s spine. Would she have asked for a twin room or a double? They would manage either way. Or maybe Bea just wanted to be a friend. She supposed they should have sorted this out before meeting, but it was so difficult to write in the letter, and who knew if the censor would check them. 

Bea held Maud’s hand so they didn’t lose each other in the throng, and the warmth of her thrilled Maud. To touch her again, to feel her, had Maud’s head spinning. As Bea headed towards the Underground station, Maud pulled back. “Do you mind if we walk rather than take the tube? I’m not used to all these people.” She sounded like a country bumpkin, but Bea didn’t seem to mind and shifted direction to the exits.

“Sure, we’ll have to go on it later, but I’m happy to walk.”

Their gazes met. I wish I could kiss you now; you are so beautiful, so perfect. 

* * *

Warm Pearls and Paper Cranes ©2021 by E.V. Bancroft

Published by Butterworth Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

E.V. BANCROFT always wanted to write when she grew up. On retirement, following a Global Wordsmiths course, she wrote the award-winning Warm Pearls and Paper Cranes. Maybe she’s grown up at last.

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ONCE IN BERLIN BY JO HAVENS

Blurb:

Could you spy on the woman you loved?

It’s 1938 and Europe teeters on the edge of war.

In Berlin, life for Mila Nessian – genius mathematician, billionaire and womaniser – is one long party. A spot of rocket science by day, the Third Reich’s prettiest daughters by night. She knows what they whisper behind their hands – that Germany’s most dazzling mind has nothing but a calculator where her heart should be, a sliver of ice instead of soul. She smirks through yet another boring cocktail party and hopes they’re wrong.

Cecelia Balfour is dragged to Berlin by her socialite mother – and it’s the last place she wants to be. Cecelia has lost a lover and worries that her heart is too bruised to ever properly love again. To distract her, to maybe get her back in the game, her cousin at MI6 sets up a play: flirt with Mila Nessian, capture her secrets, lure her back to London.

Because what Mila is working on could steer the course of the coming war. The Nazis want her brilliance, British Secret Intelligence wants her silence, and Cecelia – once she has laughed with her, slept with her, sipped champagne on a zeppelin with her and lost her heart to her – Cecelia wants her love.

Can she win Mila’s trust and save her from the powers that control both their lives?

Tell us about this scene:

It's the morning after Mila and Cissie's first night together and the two have just finished a lazy breakfast at Mila's lake house near Berlin. Even though Cissie first pursued Mila in order to obtain the secrets of her scientific work for Britain, it's clear her heart has its own objective.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Once in Berlin is my favourite book (so far) and, for me, this scene captures Mila and Cissie's softness and their potential – all they can be together. I have tendency to put my characters through the wringer, but this moment is the calm before the storm.

Besides, who wouldn't like a semi-naked genius woman serenading them from the piano on a lazy Sunday morning?

* * *

Excerpt:

Cissie clutched her tea cup and stared through its steam at the view across the lake. There were patches of wild peach blossom on the hillside on the opposite bank amid the baby-soft green of new leaves. The first flowers of the Linden tree on the lawn blew a honey-warm fragrance through the open windows and the funny whistling-hooting sound of a family of swans making their way downstream drifted up the garden. At the piano behind her, Mila dropped out of the piece she was playing, echoed their song, then tumbled back into the music.

The wreckage of their meal lay on the coffee table. Mila had taken her cup of tea to the piano and added its damp base to the circle of stains already on the music shelf. The Steinway was open, and up close, Cissie saw it was an old, well-loved instrument, with chips out of its edges and red wine stains on the veneer. Under Mila’s fingers, it made a sound untethered like the birds and the blossom in the world outside.

She was playing something liquid, with none of the fury of the last time Cissie had heard her play. This was full of delicate grace notes and vibrating arpeggios and seemed to slip between harmonies and tonalities to something that was pure sensory experience. Time and sound became petals from the trees and reflections from the lake, and the tea tasted of polyrhythms and trills, and Mila was beautiful and knew all the secrets of Cissie’s heart.

Cissie placed her teacup back in its saucer and stood at the curve at the belly of the piano to watch Mila play.

She had a confusion of sheet music on the stand, layers thick, the corners well curled. Her eyes didn’t seem to be focused – she knew the pieces well – but she glanced from her hands to the music almost out of habit rather than need. Her lips were half open and every now and then they moved, as if whispering some sublime accompaniment to the music. A tiny frown creased in and out of existence as the music swirled, and once, she glanced up and saw Cissie watching her and it disappeared entirely.

Her gown was still open, her bare chest rising and falling as she swayed gently to the piece. Her feet caressed the pedals. Her fingers were long and clever. 

Cissie discovered she was lost. She wanted this to last forever.

“What are you playing?” 

Mila gave a half-smile. “You always catch me in a Russian mood,” she said, mockingly. “This is Scriabin. Some of his nicer preludes. Do you like them?”

Cissie moved to stand behind Mila. She placed her forearms on her shoulders and let her hands dangle down Mila’s front. 

“They’re magical.” She kissed the back of Mila’s neck. “You’re magical. I don’t ever want this to end.”

Mila’s fingers stilled. She bent her head. 

“I don’t want it to end either. I don’t want you to go.”

It was such a quiet plea compared to the brashness of the woman Cissie had first met. Mila shivered under Cissie’s lips. She knew there’d been something special about Mila, from the moment she’d first seen her, knew there was more inside. Stars, sumptuous lyrical music, a playfulness she’d never expected. What she was astonished to find was that the extraordinary brilliance within Mila connected to something inside Cissie, snagged and held, like they were meant to be together.

Cissie had thought the emptiness inside herself was normal, just the way she was and a pain that was hers to endure since Jing Wei died, but now she knew it was a hole after all. Because Mila filled it. She wasn’t a fool. She knew she couldn’t stay forever, and that she and Mila couldn’t really exist together in this lush tranquillity in a city that hated them, but everything about this moment was so dreamlike. She wanted to dream this dream with Mila for as long as she could.

“I don’t want to go either.”

Mila spun on the piano stool.

“Then stay. Please, Cissie, stay.” She looked up at Cissie, one strand of jet black hair across her face that Cissie itched to tuck behind her ear. “You are welcome – more than welcome – here at the lakehouse. For as long as—”

Mila didn’t finish that. Cissie knew exactly how that expression normally ended: for as long as you want to. An invitation with an implicit eventual rejection. One day, Cissie would want to leave.

“With me.” 

It was a tiny whisper and a forlorn look that bent Mila’s head again. Cissie felt it clench her heart and she crept her fingers under Mila’s chin. She wasn’t at all surprised when Mila looked up with a fierceness that utterly refused to contemplate the day when Cissie might want to leave.

“Just stay,” she said. 

And it was that simplicity that convinced her.

“For the summer.”

Exactly what the spymasters in London wanted, right there on a platter. She pushed the thought away.

Cissie tucked the strand of hair behind Mila’s ear, cupped her cheek and kissed her lips.

“If you’ll have me,” she smiled.

There was a beat, then Mila grinned. Her lust was unholy. 

“Oh, I’ll have you, baby,” she smirked.

Cissie swatted her. 

“Charm,” she protested. “You promised me charm—” but the last word turned into a shriek as Mila dragged Cissie around the piano stool, planted her arse on the keys with a discordant twang, and positioned herself between Cissie’s thighs. The kimono was discarded in a moment.

“You are absolutely terrible,” said Cissie.

“You weren’t complaining before,” breathed Mila and settled herself down on the piano stool again. She cracked her fingers like a virtuoso. 

When she put them to use and added her mouth Cissie tipped her head back and sighed her contentment out into the springtime. London and their devious schemes, Hitler and all of his, fell completely from her mind.

* * *

Once in Berlin ©2022 by Jo Havens

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* * *

About the Author:

Jo Havens lives in Sydney, Australia with her daughter and a cat named Howl. She writes sumptuous sapphic romances that are lush with all the feelz.

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IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAST (SHADOW SERIES BOOK 1) BY J.E. LEAK

Blurb:

She fell for the wrong woman ... now it's going to cost her.

In the shadowy world of 1940s New York City, a sultry spy falls for the one woman she shouldn't. When reporter Jenny Ryan’s father is murdered, her burning need for justice drives her to take on a ruthless tycoon. But her plan goes awry when she falls for the criminal’s alluring mistress, OSS agent Kathryn Hammond.

Kathryn is more than just a popular nightclub singer with a glamorous façade. She’s an undercover spy, trapped stateside in a dead-end assignment while the war rages on in Europe. Frustrated and resentful, her emotions get her into real trouble when Jenny steals her heart. As their forbidden desire blooms, they find themselves caught in a web of danger and intrigue.

Will their passion endanger their lives and unravel everything they’ve worked for, or will their love be the very thing that saves them?

In the Shadow of the Past is the first book in the sapphic historical fiction Shadow series. If you enjoy slow burns, secrets, and spies, you won't want to miss this noir-inspired tale of love and redemption.

Tell us about this scene:

This excerpt from In the Shadow of the Past (Shadow Series Book 1) takes place in 1943, New York City. Reporter Jenny Ryan’s search for her father’s killer has brought her to a swanky Midtown nightclub, where she meets singer Kathryn Hammond, who is an undercover OSS agent posing as the mistress of high-powered tycoon Marcus Forrester, the man Jenny thinks murdered her father. In this scene, they’re having drinks at a table after a very flirty encounter in the ladies’ room, and Jenny is trying to elicit Kathryn’s help.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

As an author of noir-inspired sapphic historical fiction, I have a deep love for the classic elements of the genre. The snappy dialog in this scene is reminiscent of the classic noir films of the 1940s, and that makes it one of my favorites. As the scene heats up, Kathryn’s cool logic is a stark contrast to Jenny’s aggressive impatience, and it helps establish a sense of tension and intrigue that will continue throughout the rest of the book and series.

* * *

Excerpt:

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments until Kathryn asked, “How’s your wrist?”

Jenny rubbed the recently healed injury, wondering how this perfect stranger knew anything about it. “What?”

“You sprained it pretty badly a few weeks ago, didn’t you? Falling off the roof of that car in front of the courthouse? How did the camera fare?”

Jenny shook her head, embarrassed over the incident. “I’m surprised you recognize me from that. There was quite a crowd that day.”

Kathryn smiled. “I’d recognize those legs anywhere.”

Jenny blushed and braced herself for Occupational Flirting: Round Two. She vowed she would not succumb this time, despite Kathryn’s obvious charms, which she wielded with deadly precision. Not only was she one of Forrester’s many play things, she was part of his criminal ring too, and having anything to do with the woman, beyond getting the interview with Forrester, was off limits.

“Congratulations on your freedom,” Jenny said, trying to remain neutral.

Kathryn smiled again, but there was nothing pleasant in her voice when she said of her arrest, “A misunderstanding.”

“Of course.”

Kathryn stared at her, and Jenny sensed it was a dare to say differently. Jenny had no intention of antagonizing her only path to Forrester, so she rubbed her wrist again and said, “Anyway, the camera survived, but I missed him that day, so when I heard he was back in town, I thought I’d try here.”

Kathryn waited a beat. “Office. Secretary. Appointment.”

“Or singer with the right connections,” Jenny said with a grin, proving she could be charming too.

Kathryn did not grin. She leaned forward and crossed her arms on the table. “So, what are you really doing here? And don’t hand me that line about Forrester’s charitable contributions to society. I’m not buying it. Tell me the truth or your interview is in the wind.”

Jenny weighed another lie against the truth and decided she couldn’t risk losing her inside track. She chose the one thing she couldn’t prove, hoping Kathryn might slip up and implicate Forrester.

“He killed my father.”

Kathryn frowned. “What makes you think that?”

“I have my sources.”

“And how was your father involved with Marcus Forrester?”

Jenny raised her chin, not willing to admit she hadn’t a clue. “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

Kathryn’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Some sources.”

“I know Forrester gave the order.”

Kathryn raised her brow and leaned back in her seat. “So it’s personal.”

“So?”

“So that changes things.”

“So now you’re not going to help me?”

“When things are personal, people get careless, do things that are dangerous, maybe even deadly.”

Jenny sensed her meeting with Forrester slipping away, and she wasn’t about to let it go without a fight. “Don’t presume to know anything about how I go about my business.”

“Oh, I don’t need to presume,” Kathryn said. “You’ve done nothing but lie to me since the moment I met you. That makes you an untrustworthy person, and now you’re an untrustworthy person with a vendetta. What could possibly give me pause?”

Jenny suppressed a flash of anger. She was the most trustworthy person in the world. She counted to ten in her head until the urge to lash out dissipated. “You said you would help me if I told you the truth,” she said in a stern whisper. “You have no idea what I’ve been through or what it’s like to lose a parent to murder, so, yes, I lied to you, and I’m sorry if you’re offended, but I’ll do anything to get to Forrester and the truth about my father’s death.”

“You’re rather making my point, don’t you think?”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“If I bring you face to face with Forrester, how do I know you won’t pull out a gun and shoot him dead on the spot?”

Jenny was shocked by the suggestion, but now that Kathryn mentioned it— “Would that be so awful?”

Kathryn smiled. “I would hate to see you go to the chair for it. He’s not worth it.”

Jenny raised her brow. “I’m flattered that you care.”

“I’d give the same advice to anyone who was so woefully misguided.”

“He killed my father.”

“So you said.”

Kathryn’s dismissive attitude about something so serious was infuriating, and Jenny put a hand on her purse, ready to leave. “Look, if you’re not going to help me, just tell me so I can quit wasting my time.”

Kathryn leaned forward and put her hand over Jenny’s, stilling her departure. “Desperation, determination—whatever you prefer to call it—is just human nature,” she said. “I’m not insulting you. Whatever you’re trying to do, you’ve got to be smart about it, and that’s not easy when it’s personal. That’s all I’m saying.”

Jenny relaxed. Kathryn’s calm, reasonable advice made her feel like she’d gained an ally. She hadn’t told anyone what her mysterious caller had said about her father’s death, not even Bernie. He’d just say, “It was a horrible accident,” and then he would comfort her and tell her she’s too emotionally involved to see things clearly. Kathryn, on the other hand, wasn’t shocked at all by the suggestion that Marcus Forrester had ordered a hit. She even offered advice on how to handle the situation. The den of sin was the last place Jenny expected to find a helping hand, but there it was, covering hers.

“Well, you know the man,” Jenny said, some humor returning. “Just keep me from doing something careless, dangerous, or deadly.”

Kathryn leaned back in her chair and pulled her hand away. “Something tells me that’s no easy feat.”

Jenny grinned—the statement probably true—but the grin faded as the absence of Kathryn’s touch made her feel alone again. The loss made her uneasy. Kathryn Hammond was a means to an end, someone of questionable character, and either the smoothest operator she’d ever encountered or someone she had misjudged entirely.

* * *

In the Shadow of the Past (Shadow Series Book 1) ©2021 by J.E. Leak

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from the author

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* * *

About the Author:

J.E. Leak is the author of the sapphic noir-inspired Shadow series. An antiques conservator by trade, she has always been fascinated by history and the stories objects could tell if they could speak. When she isn’t bingeing 1940s noir films, she’s writing or photographing nature on the rivers of Florida.

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LOVING ARTEMIS, AN ENDEARING TALE OF REVOLUTION, LOVE, AND MARRIAGE BY JANET MASON

Blurb:

Artemis found the love of her life when she met Linda, but their passionate relationship fizzles when Artemis lands herself on the other side of the law. Pulling the pieces of her life together, Artemis rekindles her relationship with Linda, and together they raise a daughter.

Meanwhile, Grace, running from her past, starts a life with Thalia. At a pride parade, Grace spots someone who reminds her of Artemis, who she was briefly involved with in her youth. Old feelings are rekindled. A lifetime of rejection, abandonment, and fleeing rears its head. Now she must come to terms with her past, put her relationship with Artemis to rest--or risk losing everything.

Artemis and Grace embark on a journey of revolution, love, and marriage and discover that love finds us when we least expect it.

Tell us about this scene:

Art (Artemis) and the love of her life Linda take a motorcycle ride to the nearby quarry where they make love for the first time.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene is heavily influenced by my reading of the ancient Greek poet Sappho (who lived on the Island of Lesvos).

* * *

Excerpt:

They got back on the bike. Art turned the key in the ignition and pulled forward slowly. This was where Art had come with her old girlfriend Allison. They had been on foot then, that first time when they hid behind the trees and called out to each other with lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Art remembered the light shining through the trees, the way it did now as it danced on the ground around them. It was summer then. Now, red, orange, and brown leaves covered the path. Art felt the bump of tree roots under the tires. She brought the bike to a halt. She sat there for a minute, feeling the warmth of Linda behind her: the inside of Linda's thighs cupping her ass; Linda's arms hugging her waist. Art had been thinking that it didn't get better than this. But now she knew it did — and it would. The difference between the time that she first came here with Allison and now, coming here with Linda, was that Art had been here before. She knew what she was doing. But she wanted it to be Linda's idea. Linda got off the bike first. She walked to a log next to the path and sat down. 

"I can see the lake from here," said Linda. The back of her head was toward Art. Her windswept hair fell over her jacket collar. 

"Come on over." Art swung her leg over the bike. She put down the kickstand and stood there for a moment, holding the handlebars until she made sure that the bike was on steady ground. Then she walked the bike to the side of the path — beyond the log where Linda was sitting. 

A narrow trail shot off from the path. It looked familiar. Art walked over to the log. "You can see the lake from here," Art said. "I never realized that before." 

Linda scooted closer to Art. "You know the first time I walked into school with you, the girl sitting next to me in homeroom asked, 'Who's that cute guy with the motorcycle?'" 

Art looked at her. 

"Art is a guy's name," Linda explained.

 "It's short for Artemis," answered Art. "My mother's Greek. Artemis is a goddess from Greek mythology."

"Yeah, the goddess of the hunt. She was always my favorite," replied Linda, looking at Art perceptively. "I think it's cool that you're Greek." 

Art looked into Linda's green eyes. The woods were shady. Afternoon light filtered through red and orange leaves. Linda's eyes blazed into Art's. 

"You would make a cute guy," Linda continued.

Art was drawn into the green vortex of Linda's eyes. Art's arms and legs trembled and tiny flames scorched her skin. She opened her mouth slightly to say something, but speech eluded her. Linda leaned in and kissed her. Art kissed her back. Linda's lips felt as soft as moist rose petals and she smelled like musk oil. Art didn't know if Linda wore perfume or if the scent came from her own body. A breeze rustled the leaves. Art's heart trembled. This wasn't the first time she kissed a girl, but this kiss felt different. A universe opened between them. Their tongues found new language. Soon, Art drew back. Linda looked radiant, as if the moon and stars were glowing inside of her. Still speechless, Art remembered that there was something she wanted to say. 

Words formed on her lips: "But I'm not a boy. I'm a girl." 

"A smart girl," whispered Linda. "I like that." 

This time, Art leaned in and kissed Linda. Their hands were everywhere. They came up for air, stood, and stumbled ahead on the path. They turned down a narrow path and found a large mossy patch that looked inviting. Art thought she had been here before with Allison, but she wasn't sure if this was the exact place. Now, here with Linda, it was new. They were standing, kneeling, lying on the ground, rolling, touching. It was too cool a day to take off their clothes, but, as it turned out, it didn't matter. There would be plenty of time for that later. 

Art rolled on top of Linda. Excitement sparked in her groin and danced throughout her body. Her fingers tingled. Her tongue entwined with Linda's. When they were done kissing, Art drew back and looked at Linda. Her hair was the deep red of autumn apples. Her skin was radiant. Shifting her weight, Art thrust her thigh against Linda's crotch.

Linda groaned. "I've wanted to do this ever since I got on your bike with you," she whispered. 

Art had wanted to do this ever since she set eyes on Linda. She wanted the bike more than anything, but she wanted Linda just as much. Maybe Linda was the reason she bought the bike. Yiayia (her Greek grandmother) would have understood. The wind blew harder and the leaves rustled. A distant roaring filled Art's ears. Linda moaned and writhed under Art, as Art rubbed her crotch in a circular motion on Linda's thigh. Cries overflowed from her throat. A humming filled her ears. The moss felt like moist velvet under her fingertips. It was chilly, but Art was filled with warmth. She rolled to the side. 

As she lay there, her arms circling Linda, she imagined that the red and orange leaves looking down at them were the trees blushing.

* * *

Loving Artemis, an endearing tale of revolution, love, and marriage ©2022 by Janet Mason

Published by Thorned Heart Press

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Janet Mason's book, Tea Leaves, a memoir of mothers and daughters, published by Bella Books in 2012, was chosen by the American Library Association for its 2013 Over the Rainbow List. Tea Leaves also received a Goldie Award. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and her novel THEY, a biblical tale of secret genders was published by Adelaide Books – New York and Lisbon – which also published her novel The Unicorn, The Mystery in 2020. Her novel Loving Artemis. an endearing tale of revolution, love, and marriage was published by Thorned Heart Press in 2022. Mason’s work has been anthologized more than a dozen times. Her prose has appeared in Sinister Wisdom and The Brooklyn Review.

BETWEEN BOAT & SHORE BY RHIANNON GRANT

Blurb:

When Aleuks arrives in Otter Village, she's looking for shelter from a storm and somewhere to trade. In Trebbi, she finds much more: a beautiful, confident woman who is serving her community and making space for love - for Aleuks. As the people of Otter Village come to terms with the death of their previous leader and work to appoint a new one, Trebbi comes into her own strength and Aleuks, previously a committed traveller, begins to realise that this is a place where she could settle down.

Tell us about this scene:

Aleuks arrived in Otter Village some months ago. Normally she's a traveller, but at the moment she's stuck here for the winter - and starting to wonder whether she wants to stay.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene is a tipping point in the story. It's the first scene in part 2 of the novel; part 1 was all about arrivals and new events, and part 2 is about the deeper development of a relationship. It's a scene which is both sweet and spicy.

One reason it's a particular favourite of mine because it shows that sex is part of the relationship between Aleuks and Trebbi, but also that there's much more going on - as we see at the end, where they're swapping cooking tips and edging towards discussing real issues in their relationship. They're open to one another physically but there's still a lot more love to develop. In particular, Aleuks is not ready yet to face the question Trebbi is really asking: how long will you stay... with me?

Another reason it's a particular favourite is a bit more personal. Although this isn't the first sex scene I wrote, it's the first sex scene in the first novel I published, rather than something destined to live in my drawer forever or appear on a fanfic website, and it was important to me that there was sex in the book - not just because it was sex, but because it shows sex as part of a whole life and a meaningful relationship. In this scene, Trebbi and Aleuks use their words alongside powerful actions to negotiate a first time. They've been getting to know each other for a little while but learn so much more when they come together in this new way. And they both enjoy it, and it doesn't solve everything, but is a real part of the love they are starting to feel for each other.

In a world where sex between women is sometimes treated as not real, or a joke, or something which caters to a straight male gaze, it's important to me that the women in my stories have sex for themselves. It's neither hidden nor displayed for the pleasure of others (although if some readers are turned on, that's fine too).

Finally, it's probably bad form for authors to laugh at their own jokes, but the funny line in the middle of this scene still gives me a grin when I read it.

* * *

Excerpt:

"Brrr," Aleuks said, shaking herself all over when she had got into Trebbi's house and laid down her pack. "Dear me. I think I'm soaked to the skin." She started to unwrap her cloak and tunic.

"Me too," Trebbi said, and then she laughed. "It's funny how things go in cycles – the very first time you came in here we were both wet through and had to change!"

"I was so glad to be in a village!" Aleuks said. She found herself laughing too. "This is a good place to be."

"I'm glad you like it," Trebbi said. She went to the back of the house where the beds were, and a supply of dry, folded clothes, and passed Aleuks a new tunic.

Aleuks didn't put it on right away, though. She followed Trebbi, both of them now naked and drying off in the warmer air of the house. "I like the people here, too," she said. 

Trebbi smiled. "And I…" her voice dried, and she had to cough. "I like you."

Aleuks took another step towards her, close enough to feel the body heat, close enough to kiss. Trebbi felt the weight of the days of watching and waiting, the glances they had exchanged or shied away from, the touches which had lingered…

She leaned forward. "Do you have sex with women?"

"Special women," Aleuks said. She smiled a sweet, hungry smiled and kissed her.

It was gentle, exploratory, at first, but soon heated up. Trebbi guided them backwards onto a pile of furs on the floor – the beds were a bit small for two unless you really curled up together. She let Aleuks do as she pleased to start with, then started to urge her on with kisses and touches.

Aleuks buried her head in the crock of Trebbi's shoulder, licking and kissing the earlobe, the sensitive pool in the collar bone, while her hands rubbed Trebbi's nipples and stroked down her sides. 

Trebbi began to moan. She held Aleuks' shoulders, petting, encouraging, and rocked her hips forward when one of Aleuks' hands dipped between her legs.

"You got wet all the way down," Aleuks said with a grin.

"I don't think it's rain!" Trebbi managed to reply. She gasped as Aleuks found a good spot. "Yes – please – there – oh – yes – "

Aleuks' fingers circled Trebbi's clitoris and caressed the rest of her vulva. "Inside?" she asked.

Trebbi shook her head. "Not today," she said. "That's good – circles are good – "

Aleuks found her mark and set up a rhythm. She lifted her head, shuffling a little to kiss Trebbi, until Trebbi's breath ran out and she had to turn away to breathe – and to voice her pleasure.

"Let me touch you too," she said when she could. Aleuks rolled slightly onto her side, so that they were still next to each other but there was some space between their bodies for Trebbi's arm. Trebbi searched for the right angle for a moment.

"Ah – that's good – Trebbi – yes – there!" Aleuks gasped, and Trebbi smiled slightly smugly. She copied Aleuks' speed and circling movements, and being so close, so involved, she felt her body gathering pleasure and ready to peak.

"Keep going, almost there," she said.

Aleuks speeded up slightly, keeping the pattern, now rocking her own hips in time as well, and held Trebbi while she swam through the waves of orgasm. 

"Good, good," Trebbi panted. She felt boneless but managed to keep some movement going in her own hand, and soon Aleuks was crying out softly, a hand slippery with Trebbi's fluids grasping her hip.

"I'm close," she said. Trebbi keep her pace and her pattern, round and round and sometimes over, until Aleuks first stiffened and relaxed. She didn't take her hand away at once, waiting for the final pulses to pass.

After a moment, Aleuks kissed her again. Trebbi took her time, enjoying this, running a hand through Aleuks' hair, until her cooling skin made her shudder.

"Thank you," she said. "But I think it's time to get dressed now."

"True," Aleuks agreed, sitting up. "And the fire needs stoking."

Trebbi got dressed and went to do that, remembering why she had held back from this but also glad that she had taken the step forward and allowed it to happen. It felt so good now, even if it could only happen once.

Aleuks had bought a fresh fish at the market and she showed Trebbi how she would cook it at home, in a kind of open wicker cage which could be hung over the fire. They ate it with stone-baked bread and cooked fruit, apples from the cool store and dried blackberries, and a few hazel nuts. At first they just talked about the market – about whether it was usually like that, about the storm coming in, about whether Dog village would make it next month – and eventually Trebbi found a way into the question which was on her mind.

"Will you still be here next month?" she asked as they ate. "I had the impression you were planning to move on after the market." The fish was succulent and delicious. Some of the bread was burned, so she dipped it into the cooked fruit, to soften it and disguise the bitterness of the charred patches. 

"That's what we usually do," Aleuks said. She picked a bone out of her fish. "I sometimes have to stay in one place over winter, but I am a trader, and I don't like… I try not to outstay my welcome." She smiled, but it seemed forced and Trebbi noticed that she didn't look up.

* * *

Between Boat & Shore ©2022 by Rhiannon Grant

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Rhiannon Grant lives with her wife in Birmingham, UK. Her writing includes fiction with a focus on LGBTQ+ lives and several books on religious studies. She also researches Quaker theology, teaches short courses for Woodbrooke, supervises research students through the University of Birmingham, and likes to walk in the park.

SISTER MATTHEW AND SISTER ROSE: NOVICES IN LOVE BY CAROL ANNE DOUGLAS

Blurb:

Two young women join a convent in Maryland in 1962. They both are attracted to women but think they have no chance of finding a woman to love. They're wrong. They fall in love, but the convent forbids friendships.

Tell us about this scene:

There is time traveling in a small part of the novel. Maureen (Sister Matthew) travels unwittingly back to her Catholic high school and the class taught by the nun she most dislikes.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love this scene because Sister Matthew (Maureen) is full of doubts, about everything from God to her own worthiness as a person. This scene shows why she doubts herself. She had a blackout during a crucial moment when she might have seen the person who killed a classmate she disliked. Maureen will always worry that she might have been the killer. That doubt influenced her choice to enter the convent.

More generally, I enjoyed writing scenes set in a Catholic high school because I attended one.

* * *

Excerpt:

In that morning’s English class, Sister Veronica’s face looked as if she had colored it with chalk. She appeared to be years older than she had been the day before. She shook, and so did her voice. She drew a long breath as if she had to force herself to talk. “Mary Louise McKenna is dead.”

Those were the exact words she had said. This was truly the past. I froze. Everything happened word for word like that day. I tried to speak, to say something I had not said then, but no words came out of my mouth. I tried to get out of my desk, but my limbs resisted. I was powerless to do anything different.

All of us gasped. Mary Louise’s friends began to cry. I felt as if I were falling. Mary Louise, with her silky blonde hair, good soprano voice, and mean disposition, was dead. My fantasy had become horribly true. Was I somehow guilty because I had imagined her death.

“Someone murdered her,” Sister Veronica said.

Fran O’Connor fainted. Susan Adams and Bernadette O’Hara shrieked. Cathy Randall burst into hysterical sobs.

Sister Veronica resumed her stiff posture. Her brown eyes regarded us as if we were misbehaving kindergarteners. “That wasn’t an invitation to hysterics. Focusing on your own reactions robs her death of dignity.” She walked over to Fran, felt her pulse, and shook her.

“All of you must remain in your seats and be quiet until after the police have finished examining the crime scene. She was killed in the auditorium.” Sister Veronica managed to rouse Fran, who stared blankly. “You can’t go to the next class as usual.”

I had imagined killing Mary Louise in the auditorium. Could I be insane? Had I killed her rather than just imagining it?

The day before, Mary Louise had shamed me by pointing out my acne to everyone. She had called me “Polka Dot.” Two of the girls had tittered. I had shaken with anger.

Susan raised her hand. “I have to go to the bathroom, sister.”

The nun frowned. “You may go, but only one at a time. Don’t linger or go anyplace else.”

Susan scurried out.

“Unfortunately, our class was supposed to discuss Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar today. That is out of the question now.” Sister Veronica sighed as if she regretted putting aside the play. “Instead, we’ll discuss O. Henry’s ‘Gift of the Magi.’ It’s not particularly appropriate, but that is preferable to being overly appropriate.”

I wished Mary Louise, all 110 snide pounds of her, were alive and sitting in the classroom.

Mary Louise, the taunter supreme, had often insulted me in front of Bernadette, the girl I loved. Bernadette, bless her, had turned away instead of laughing.

Earlier that morning, we had celebrated the school’s fiftieth anniversary in the auditorium. All the students ate pieces of a yellow sheet cake with the school’s emblem, which included a knife, shears, and tongs, symbols of St. Agatha’s martyrdom. What a morbid emblem.

A carving knife, large for the purpose, had sat on the empty platter. I had imagined using it on Mary Louise.

At some point, I had blacked out. Not fainted, just drifted off. I didn’t remember what happened after that until I sat in the classroom, though quite a few minutes, I didn’t know how many, must have had passed. Such blackouts had happened a few times before, mostly in Sister Veronica’s classes.

Had my wishes somehow lifted the knife and moved it with deadly force? Impossible. I hope.

I picked up our anthology and tried to read the story. I felt sure I radiated guilt.

Sister Veronica called on me to read aloud. I attempted to open my mouth.

“One dol…” I choked.

The English teacher scowled at me. “For heaven’s sake, Maureen, pull yourself together. I expect better of a good student like you. Anne Fascinato, please read.”

“One dollar and eighty-seven…” Anne faltered.

“That’s enough.” Sister Veronica sighed. “I’ll read it.” She rattled through the story in a tone different from her usual expressive reading.

I wasn’t the only one who failed to read aloud. My shaky voice didn’t point directly to my guilt.

When I wished Mary Louise harm, did I cause it, even if I didn’t stab her myself? Did my thoughts somehow pulsate to the actual killer?

Or did I linger after the others had left the auditorium on the pretense of cleaning up, after I heard that was what Mary Louise would be doing? She liked to volunteer for extra duties just to show off. She played up to the nuns, but inside she was meaner than a snake.

How could I think of a dead girl that way? God forgive me. I am heartily sorry.

My thoughts were still the same as those of my sixteen-year-old self. I couldn’t seem to change them.

Oh no, my younger self thought, I have to confess this sin, or I’ll go to hell. Priests are under the seal of Confession, so the priest can’t tell the police or the nuns. Which priest should I go to? Who would be the most understanding?

Stop dramatizing yourself, as the nuns would say. I just need to confess wanting Mary Louise to die, not killing her. And I didn’t mean it, not really. I won’t miss her though.

Her parents will suffer. I don’t want her parents to suffer.

I began to cry. I could hear other girls crying too. Did they all like Mary Louise, or were they just crying from shock?

What if one of the other girls killed her? I wasn’t the only one she had insulted.

“Concentrate on the story,” Sister Veronica demanded. She had apparently finished reading aloud. “What did you learn from it?”

I hadn’t heard the story. What had I learned? Not to kill anyone? That probably wasn’t O. Henry’s moral.

* * *

Sister Matthew and Sister Rose: Novices in Love ©2021 by Carol Anne Douglas

Published by Hermione Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Carol Anne Douglas worked on off our backs: a feminist news journal for 35 years. Her lesbian novels are Lancelot: Her Story and Lancelot and Guinevere, in which Lancelot is a woman; Sister Matthew and Sister Rose: Novices in Love; and Choosing Yellowstone. She lives in DC and Florida.

FANTASY ROMANCE

DEBATE AND DECADENCE BY SULA SULLIVAN

Blurb:

Like any good mysterious witch, Amaya seldom ventures further than the woods that surround her cottage. She fills her days with foraging, spell testing, and reading. Amaya would happily spend all her days and nights curled up with a steaming mug of tea or playing her harp. Anything would be preferable to trying to contain Rue, the chaotic runaway bride who suddenly appears on her doorstep insisting they're fated, mates. Rue is determined to take charge of her life and by extension Amaya's. She's convinced all she has to do is miss her own wedding, learn how to cook a decent stew and show Amaya what fate has in store.

Tell us about this scene:

A standoffish witch Amaya is surprised by an unannounced visitor, a socialite Rue.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love the moment where two characters meet, especially when the first interaction isn’t super romantic and the attraction isn’t instantaneous. This is one of my favorite scenes because the characters are equally matched in terms of wit and personality. Immediately it’s clear that they’re foils. I also am a sucker for good banter.

* * *

Excerpt:

The stranger was perhaps a few years older than she was, and she was most assuredly a villager, not magical folk. Her dress, which was pink and dotted with embroidered strawberries and made of thin, gauzy-looking material, was a light, flowy garment, loose save for where it cinched below her small bust. The frock looked nearly pristine except for the dirty hem and slight splattering of mud at thebottom. Amaya studied the woman again as she dragged her eyes back up toward the visitor’s face. Her warm brown skin glowed in the morning light, and her round face was framed perfectly by pale pink hair. Instead of greeting the woman, Amaya took another step back.

“Hello!” The woman said brightly. “My name is Rue.”

“My name is....”

“Amaya, the witch.” Rue reached out for her hand.

Instinctively, Amaya flinched and pulled away.

“Is that the improper term? My apologies. I don’t often call on....”

Rue threw her hands up and made a circular motion like she was spinning yarn on a spinning wheel. “I don’t often call on anyone. And when I do, my mama accompanies me. I know that seems silly at my age. Oh dear, I realize I did not bring a calling card. I put in an order with the printer and forgot to fetch it. I could’ve taken one of Mama’s and penciled myself in. Or...” Rue stopped suddenly and shrieked excitedly.

“Where is your...fancy bonnet?” Rue made a pyramid with her hands and placed it on her head, and then she made a circular motion around her head.

“Pardon?”

Rue pantomimed a motion like putting on a hat. “The high hat with the big brim....”

“Oh, that? I only wear it when I am about the town.”

“How disappointing,” Rue said with a bit of a pout.

Amaya often wore a tall, conical hat with a flat brim to easily identify herself to potential clients. The villagers mostly knew her by now but occasionally travelers passed through and even more rarely, Amaya traveled to nearby towns and villages to perform her services. She wondered if Rue had been watching her for an extended period of time or if the girl had seen her in passing.

“Is there a reason you called on me?” Amaya managed to get out.

“I thought this would be a safe harbor.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Amaya asked, and then she thought for a moment. She was about to ask why Rue needed a safe harbor when she began speaking again.

“I’ve been told you are our village’s patron witch. And I’m a damsel in need of aid. There will assuredly be a search party to investigate my absence. I am certain no one will search your cottage or even the park that surrounds it.”

“And why is that?”

“No one cares for you. So I do not believe anyone will search here,” Rue said cheerfully.

“Fascinating.”

“Isn’t it? You must be terribly lonely.”

“My apologies you came all this way for naught, but you really should return home where you will assuredly be safer and more comfortable?”

“Are you a dangerous person?”

“I could very well be.”

“Ah, so you are not,” Rue said, a smirk playing across her face.

“Won’t you invite me in for tea?”

“I fear my tea-making skills are not to the standard you’re accustomed to.”

“Then I shall make tea for you!” Rue said cheerily, pushing past

Amaya.

 “Could you be a dear and fetch my case and basket? I left them at the end of the walk. They were terribly heavy.”

Amaya made her way down the pressed dirt walkway. Right outside the gate, which—Amaya noted with annoyance—was ajar, sat a large basket, its contents hidden from view with a handkerchief. Beside it was a leather case. While the case was not large perse, it seemed that it would be quite the handful to manage while carrying the basket. She nestled the basket in the crook of her arm and picked up the case. It took her a few extra moments to walk up

the short path.

“Rue?” Amaya called out as she entered the house. This felt a bit silly, especially seeing as it was her own home.

* * *

Debate and Decadence ©2022 by Sula Sullivan

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

A lifelong Marylander, Sullivan holds a bachelor's degree in English Literature. With every work, she attempts to challenge the expectations associated with historical romance and bring a refreshingly modern twist. When not writing, she can be found sewing, crafting, and alternating between tea and lattes.

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A GAME OF HEARTS AND HEISTS BY RUBY ROE

Blurb:

Two enemies, one goal: steal each other's hearts.

Scarlett Grey, disgraced assassin, is determined to get revenge.

Quinn Adams, medic turned-poisoner for hire, is her deadliest rival.

For years, they've stolen each other's clients, sabotaged each other's business, and occasionally… slept together.

When the Magician Queen offers an irresistible deal, Scarlett and Quinn are forced to work together. But this is not a simple job.

With an impossible heist ahead, they’re going to have to trust each other…

And that's not easy when they both have secrets to hide.

Harder still when those secrets will betray the ones they love.

Now neither woman is sure if it’s a heist they want to win or a heart.

Two women, two deadly professions, and a romance that could be their downfall.

This is a steamy lesbian fantasy romance with enemies to lovers, a heist, found family, a secret royal, and only one bed.

Tell us about this scene:

Long-time enemies, Scarlett and Quinn end up in the same sex club. After they pull knives on each other, they get thrown in the nightclub jail by the bouncer... and that's when things get steamy!

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

There’s something about the exquisite ferocity of two people that hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other. That’s my favorite kind of sexual tension for fictional characters. The reason I love this scene in particular is because it contains those two things in ample doses. So much hate and fury and female power, but equally the lust and hunger for each other. That, and bountiful banter, which is catnip for me. It’s the most fun, naughty scene I’ve written and the one all my readers keep referencing. Especially with how it ends ;p.

* * *

Excerpt:

She turns round, pushes me to my knees, pulls her dress aside. 

She tilts her head, her eyes alive, hungry. 

An invitation. 

A demand. 

When she looks at me like this, I’m never sure if we’re going to fuck or fight. Honestly, I don’t think I care.

“You know I’ve punished women for demanding less than that.”

Her lip curls, “And yet I’m the only one who can get you to your knees.”

This time, I growl. I grab her ass and lift her up. She swings her legs around my neck and I lean into her flesh. I carry her, my face pushed against her pussy, to the velvet cube where I put her on her back. And then I draw my tongue down, parting her.

The moan it elicits from her carves me in two. She sits up, and her hands go to my trousers and crotch.

“Oh,” she says as her hand presses against the hard cock. “Oh, that’s new.”

“Shut up and bend over.”

Her mouth twitches like she’s suppressing a smile. “Yes, ma’am.” 

When her ass is in the air, I walk around the cube and take one of the dangling handcuffs. I strap her in one hand and then the other. I yank, testing their strength. There’s no way they’re coming out of the ceiling. 

I pull the key out and slip it into my pocket. Then I lift Quinn’s chin up and place a kiss on her mouth. She parts her lips and pushes her tongue over mine. She tastes like forbidden things. Peppery and hot, and the faintest hint of sweet smoke.

I drop her face and move to her backside, hoisting the fabric of her dress up. I slap her ass and she squeals. My clit pulses. I’d kill to ride her face right now, feel her warm mouth lap at my core as I grind into her. 

But tonight is not about me.

It’s all about revenge for what she did last time. I was on an open commission. This duchess had offered a high reward for slaughtering her rich uncle, open contract, quick turnaround time. Of course, the competition was much stiffer. Quinn and I both turned up to kill off the uncle. We fought. I was an inch from gutting her in the uncle’s living room. If it weren’t for the fact that I’d slashed her top and she wasn’t wearing a bra…

Instead of killing her, I ended up fucking her all over the guy’s living room. We broke furniture, smashed vases, ripped cushions. It was… well; it wasn’t my most professional moment. After, Stirling had to come and help me make it look like a break in.

Anyway. Quinn must have slipped me some kind of poison because by the time I’d finished fucking her face, my right arm was paralysed and my leg and foot weren’t far behind.

She got the kill, of course. And then left me there to deal with the consequences. One nil to her that day.

And to top it all, I was paralysed for two very long days. Stirling had to feed me because I kept spilling everything. Guess she’s two nil up.

I owe her. 

I owe her big.

I unzip my trousers, pull the cock out and rub it over her pussy. I lean down onto her back, sprinkle kisses over her neck, nipping at the skin.

“Tell me you want it,” I say, a growl biting at my throat. This is the best part of the game. Submission. No matter how much she hates me, she wants me to fuck her more. 

“I—I want it,” she pants, and my jaw flexes.

I shove inside her, shunting her forward into the velvet cube. She gasps out a moan. And then… “Harder, Scarlett.”

My teeth grit, my eyes squeezing shut. The demands. It floods adrenaline through my insides, my muscles tighten, daring me to obey, daring me to punish. 

The way she says my name, the husky longing. I can’t stand it. How dare she command me. And yet… I submit. 

I’d do anything to make her scream my name like that over and over.

I thrust into her. Deeper. Faster. Until she’s dripping wet and moaning into the velvet fabric beneath her, her knuckles white where she grips the corners. 

I trail my hand around her legs and onto her swollen clit. I flick my fingers, rubbing and teasing and thrusting into her until she’s wound so tight she’s panting out my name like fire and flames. It bores into my mind.

“Scarlett. Scarlett,” she breathes, and my soul caves open. She might be the one climaxing, but it’s me that’s laid bare. She arches up, gripping my arse, pulling me in harder. The chains clank and strain as her fingers squeeze punishingly hard against my skin. It’s on purpose. She likes to mark me, I’m sure of it.

I’m hers as much as she is mine to play with. To fuck and discard. To threaten and screw.

I’m glad she’s on her front. One look from her would strip me open and tear out my darkest secrets. 

She stiffens against me, her world shattering. For a fleeting moment, I wish I hadn’t used the cock but my fingers so I could feel her clench me. But there’s always next time.

No.

No more next times. I pull out of her, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as she collapses on the cube, the chains holding her arms clinking. This needs to stop. I put the cock back inside my trousers and zip myself up. I check the handcuff key is still in my pocket and then smile.

“Till next time, Quinn. Have a pleasant night.”

“What?” she says, still breathless and revelling in the orgasm. The chains clang as she tries to wrench around to see me. She can’t turn fully, but she can see enough to realise I have a smug grin on my face.

“Don’t you dare leave me in here like this.” 

I laugh and pull out my spare switch blade—all good Assassins carry more than one—and jangle it against the door lock. It clicks open.

“One nil to me, Quinn.” 

“I will fucking ruin you. I…” she screams, but I shut the door on her before she can finish the rest of her sentence.

If I strain against the thud of the music, I can still make out her shrieking and the clanking chains.

Glorious. 

Utterly, glorious.

* * *

A Game of Hearts and Heists ©2023 by Ruby Roe

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Ruby Roe loves a bit of magic with her smut, but she’ll read anything as long as the characters get down and dirty. When not writing, Ruby beasts herself in the gym, snuggles with her two pussy… cats, or spanks all her money travel. She lives in England with her wife, son.

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AURORA'S ANGEL BY EMILY NOON

Blurb:

Two extraordinary women, a dangerous journey and the start of an epic love story.

Alone since her father’s murder, Aurora has spent years hunting his killers. Battle-weary she’s ready to start over where no one knows who or what she is – she just has one last mission. Everything is going to plan until she discovers the beautiful winged girl caged underground.

Tell us about this scene:

Unable to fly after injuring her wing during a dramatic escape, Evie is trying to make her way home through dangerous terrain in the company of Aurora, the formidable beast-shifter who rescued her. They are about to enter the territory of a clan of wolf-shifters hostile to Evie’s people.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene is a snapshot of the type of world Aurora’s Angel is set in. A world of supernatural beings, brimming with magic, bloody history and ancient rivalries. Aurora and Evie are from opposite ends of a divide, and are expected to be enemies. Instead, because of the experiences they’ve shared and their mutual attraction, they’ve already formed a deep connection. I like how this scene shows the interplay between the two women; Aurora’s protectiveness and Evie’s trust, in the face of imminent danger.

* * *

Excerpt:

Aurora called a halt once they were in sight of the wolf-shifter village on the other side of the lake. Huts and wooden building sprawled amidst trees stretching along a good portion of the shore and by the look of things into the tree-clad mountainside behind it. Aurora took a deep breath and gave a piercingly loud whistle. A moment later there was a whistle from the other side followed by multiple howls.

“What happens now?” Evie asked.

“Now we wait. They won’t be long.”

Aurora was right. It wasn’t long before a single rowboat made its way across the lake towards them.

“They’re collecting us by boat?”

“Yup. There’s no other way across and I don’t feel like swimming.” 

“The feeling is mutual.”

Evie sat down next to Aurora on the rock she was using as a seat. Close enough that their legs and arms touched. She was probably too close but she liked being near Aurora as her presence was reassuring and she needed a little bolstering ahead of going into the wolf village. Seeing Aurora’s questioning look she said, “I want to make sure your scent remains fresh. You said smelling like you will help keep the wolves off me. I’m all for that.”

Aurora’s smile was amused. “I did say that.”

Together they watched as the boat drew nearer, the woman at the oars propelling the little vessel through the water with strong strokes. On the other side of the lake Evie could see a steadily growing crowd on the pier. For some reason the gathering crowd stirred an old memory. It reminded Evie of how people gathered around the body of an avian who’d been mauled to death by a wolf-shifter gone feral. From a block away she’d seen the tip of a blood-soaked wing poking up into the air like a flag on a battlefield. Her friends had begged her to stay back with them and wait for the adults to investigate but she’d been drawn to that wing and had rushed over, terrified it might belong to a family member or friend. Thankfully, it hadn’t been but she recognized the victim. It was the handsome avian boy who’d flirted with her and her friends while they were having cold drinks at a rooftop restaurant less than an hour before. It had been a massive shock to see that same boy sprawled on his back with his neck torn open, huge chunks of flesh missing from his chest and his beautiful wings that she’d openly admired a mangled, broken mess of bone and feather. 

Evie felt her mouth go dry and she struggled to swallow. She reached into her pack for her water bottle but all the while she kept an eye on the approaching boat and the wolf-shifter coming to transport them to the other side. Evie realized Aurora was watching her carefully, her expression concerned. 

“Evie, do you know the woman in the boat? Has she harmed you?”

Evie didn’t think she had shown any outward signs of distress but Aurora, ever observant, noticed something was wrong. “It’s nothing. Just a bad memory.”

“Of wolves?”

“Yes. But not something that happened to me. Something I saw.”

“It scared you?”

“It gave me nightmares for a long time.”

Aurora grimaced. “I hate nightmares.” She leaned back on the rock, one arm behind Evie so her shoulder braced the other woman’s back. Not one to waste an opportunity Evie relaxed against Aurora, allowing the warmth of her nearness to chase away the chill brought on by the bad memory.

“Evie?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be afraid. If someone dares to bare a fang at you, I will rip it out and give it to you as a souvenir.” 

Evie quietly pondered this, as the comment was somewhat disturbing and yet reassuring. She didn’t know if Aurora could or would do such a thing but she understood it was her way of telling Evie she would keep her safe and she did feel safe with her. So safe that on Aurora’s word alone she was about to do the inconceivable – she was going wingless into a den of wolves.

* * *

Aurora's Angel ©2019 by Emily Noon

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Emily always loved reading fantasy, especially if the plot included a romance between strong characters. After years of secretly creating magical worlds, she decided to take a chance and let her creations loose on the unsuspecting world. To her delight her debut novel, Aurora's Angel, won a Lambda Literary Award.

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THE ORC AND HER BRIDE BY LILA GWYNN

Blurb:

Sapphic fantasy romance with a monstrous twist…

RUGA KARRSDAUGHTER, dutiful orc princess with a heart of gold, has spent the years since her sister was elected queen serving the orc country of Torden. Her duties now include marrying an elf princess for a much-needed alliance against an outside threat.

ELKETH CERIDWEN, rakish elf princess with a penchant for chaos, has never lifted a finger in her life. Now that an engagement is sprung upon her by the stern elvish king, she has to fulfill a fifty-day betrothal period in Torden surrounded by strangers…unless she can wreak enough havoc to get sent back home.

These poor orcs don’t know what they’re in for.

A gentle orc princess is betrothed to a bratty elf princess in this sapphic fantasy romance. This novel is first in The Sapphic Orcs of Torden series but can be read as a standalone.

Tell us about this scene:

Elketh, a rakish elf princess, has resisted her arranged marriage to Ruga, a heart-of-gold orc princess, until now, when Ruga extends an olive branch by taking Elketh to the archery grounds.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I’m a sucker for a good excuse for characters to touch, especially if it’s in a “you’re doing that wrong—let me teach you the right way” context. (Is this because of the archery scene in The Princess Diaries 2? Maybe.) This is also a turning point in my main characters’ relationship. Up to this point, Elketh has been a bit of a pest to the orcs in the orc country, and Ruga starts to see what about Elketh is desirable. She’s also surprised that Elketh can be so disarming, and she’s taken aback by how perceptive Elketh is. I like how there’s a lot going on between the lines in this scene, and it might be one of the best “show, don’t tell” moments I’ve ever pulled off. Elketh clearly has an agenda here, too, but you don’t get to see what she’s thinking just yet. There’s no turning back for the characters after this scene. They’re in too deep!

* * *

Excerpt:

“Please don’t shoot rabbits, if any happen to come on the range. I don’t know if I could handle it.”

“Not big on rabbits?” Elketh asked, running fingers over the arch of the bow.

“I don’t eat meat.”

At this, Elketh gave a startled laugh. “Why?”

“Is it so bad to not want to eat animals?”

Elketh snorted, lifting an arrow from the barrel of arrows set at their station. “You really are a gentle soul, aren’t you?”

The comment left Ruga flustered. She stepped back to give Elketh space as she notched the arrow. The bow was nearly as tall as she was, with a simple curve. The name came to Ruga from a far-off memory: longbow.

She stood mesmerized as Elketh pulled the string back, her body relaxed effortlessly, practically made for this specific activity. A muscle bulged on her arm when she brought the fletching of the arrow almost to her mouth. Elketh released the arrow directly into the center of a target and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Impressive,” Ruga said.

“How many can I do?”

“As many as you like.”

And she did. Ruga couldn’t help but watch every time as Elketh nocked arrows and loosed them into the various targets. She noticed things she didn’t expect to, like that Elketh only gripped the long part of the arrow with two fingers, lining the arrow along her forefinger as she set it up. She noticed that Elketh bit her lip every time, right before the arrow sailed, and she noticed especially that muscle every time it bulged.

It would have been easy to find an excuse to leave Elketh there by herself. The other things Ruga could do seemed too socially demanding, though, and this was fun, hiding in the shade of the trees with an almost-stranger. While Elketh was more of an irritant than anything, Ruga couldn’t help but notice she was interesting, too, maybe the most interesting thing to happen to her in a while.

They’d been there for over an hour when Elketh’s skin began to gleam with perspiration. She proffered the bow to Ruga. “Do you want to give it a try?” she asked.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Ruga said. “Someone might lose an eye.”

“I can help you,” Elketh said.

How could this be the same person who risked her life to run away from Ruga? Ruga took the bow from Elketh as if in a trance, holding it stiffly.

“Lift it higher,” Elketh instructed.

It tired Ruga’s arm to do so. She tried anyway, lifting it up, shaking a bit with the effort of it. Or maybe from the weight of the dark pair of eyes on her. “Like this?”

“Indeed. Only—lower your shoulder a bit. No, not like that. Can I—?” Elketh had come very close, reaching a tentative hand to Ruga’s shoulder. Ruga swallowed and nodded. Elketh nudged Ruga’s shoulder down with one hand, raising her forearm with the other. “Relaxed, but straight.”

Elketh smelled faintly of sweat, a tad earthy, with that floral overtone of her hair oil. Ruga held the bow with two fingers like she’d seen Elketh do and nocked the arrow along her forefinger.

“Good, you were paying attention,” Elketh said, her breath caressing Ruga’s ear.

Loudly, Ruga swallowed again. She dragged the fletching and the string back to her mouth, feeling the same forearm muscle twinge. “Can I let it go yet?” If she ever knew them, she was blanking on the proper archery terms. In fact, her whole mind was blank as a painter’s canvas.

“Not yet. Your other arm isn’t…here.” Elketh’s hand wrapped around the bottom of Ruga’s elbow where she had it bent by her face and gently lifted it up.

She didn’t release her grip.

“Now,” she breathed.

Ruga let the arrow loose. She had no idea where it landed, only that it didn’t make the firm noise of Elketh’s arrows when they landed. She was too busy thinking of Elketh at the seamstress, in just her smallclothes, and how this felt strangely more intimate than that. Together, the images that came to mind, unbidden, of Elketh’s smooth, bare skin, of her toned torso, and their closeness now—it was all too much.

“That wasn’t half bad,” Elketh said, just a few inches from Ruga. As if only noticing now that they were still touching, she dropped her hand and stepped back.

Ruga tried not to look at Elketh, to give herself time to gather her thoughts.

“Do you want to try again?” Elketh asked. She already had another arrow in her hands.

“I…um. Alright.”

Elketh handed her the arrow. Their fingers brushed against each other as Ruga took it. “I used to pick up women like this,” Elketh said.

“What?”

“It was a good excuse for a lot of touching,” she said, and then shrugged like it meant nothing. “I have to confess that while I’m good at archery, I’m not a very good teacher.”

Ruga set the arrow into place with the knowledge she had from watching Elketh’s form. She kept her shoulder low instead of letting it ride up, and then raised her other elbow so it was aligned with her arm nearest Elketh and the arrow. Elketh might not be a good teacher, but Ruga was a quick learner. “Were you flirting with me?” Ruga asked finally, the bow taut. Her gaze was carefully focused on the center of the target.

Elketh didn’t respond. Ruga loosed the arrow and it landed on the target this time, halfway between the center and the edge, with a loud, satisfying noise.

Her knuckle stung a little where it had kicked back against the wood. She focused on that until the silence became unbearable, and then she gave in and looked at Elketh, who smirked as she took the longbow back from Ruga, careful not to let their hands touch this time.

Ruga looked at Elketh, and she couldn’t stop looking.

* * *

The Orc and Her Bride ©2023 by Lila Gwynn

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Lila Gwynn is a lesbian author (and avid reader) of sapphic fantasy fiction. In her free time, she can be found binge-reading indie books, casually playing video games, or occasionally writing. She lives with her wonderful butch girlfriend and their many cats.

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THE FAIRY QUEEN OF ELWENHAL BY ASH GRAY

Blurb:

When Aereth is stolen by fairies, Zelda must journey into the realm of Elwenhal, where the court of the fae and their queen awaits. The fairy queen is holding both Aereth and Cassandra captive as they linger in a deep slumber. She wishes to keep them forever but quickly decides she may keep Zelda as well, casting a spell that forces her, in a daze of lust, to make endless love to Cassandra! Don't miss the seventh installment in this lesbian harem romance!

Tell us about this scene:

Zelda, a feminine lesbian sorceress, has a harem of butch knight lovers who are all fighting over her. Her "main" love interest is Calain, who in this scene has just returned after abandoning the group and essentially screwing them all over. Gweneth is another knight in the harem who is (secretly) fiercely protective of Zelda, so she kicks Calain's butt.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is a snippet of Chapter 1 from The Fairy Queen of Elwenhal, and it is my favorite scene in the entire Knights of Passion series (actually, I loved writing the whole chapter, not just this scene). The series *is* a romance series, yes, but I actually loved writing about the four knights and their friendship/sisterhood more than their love for the sorceress Zelda.

Calain is an idiot, and her foolishness is always a catalyst for the rest of the knights to get in trouble by coming to her aid. Selene is closest to Calain and has just sort of accepted that her best friend is an idiot (she is very calm in this scene, as always), while Gweneth is a lot harder on Calain and more likely to hold her responsible rather than coddling her. Meanwhile, Cassandra the “martyr” is off in a coma because of what Calain did, so she’s not even in the scene at all. It’s a theme throughout the entire series but this scene more than any other illustrates the personalities and the relationships of the knights.

Writing romance has led me to realize that what I really like is writing friendships. Romance is great too, obviously, but for this reason, my romance novels always involve a friendship of some sort. In Her First Knight there is Liadan and Ethne, two knights who are best buds forever, and in Knights of Vallor there are the Broin sisters, knights who would die for each other. (Yes, shameless plug).

Anyway. That’s the reason.

* * *

Excerpt:

Gweneth was satisfied to see Calain go tumbling back and lunged on her, grabbing her in a headlock.  Calain grunted angrily and pried at Gweneth’s bulging arm with her fingers, but Gweneth held on. Calain’s nonsense had caused all of it – Cassandra’s capture at the hands of Melvalda, Aereth being kidnapped, Cassandra’s capture again at the hands of the fae -- and Gweneth wanted to make her suffer for once. Calain was always doing stupid things and facing no consequences with all the rewards! Predictably, she had won back Zelda’s love, which Gweneth did not believe she deserved at all.

“You are like small babes!” Selene bellowed in much frustration, but it was Neserie who finally stopped the fight.

Standing cold and calm, Neserie glowed with power, licks of loose gray hair beating about her wrinkled face in an ethereal wind. Her eyes glowed, and they saw the door fly open of its own accord, and Gweneth and Calain were lifted bodily and hurled out. As they landed sprawled in the yard, the door slammed again behind them.

Gweneth had landed hard on her face. She sat up on her elbow, spitting sand and blood, and glared at Calain, who had landed beside her.

“Have you gone mad, Gwen?” said Calain in amazement. She stared at Gweneth with wide green eyes.

Gweneth rolled her eyes and lurched to her feet, dusting herself off. “And of course you would play the doe-eyed innocent after all you hath done,” she snarled, going to the step and sitting down. She watched as Calain dusted herself off and sat beside her, then she laughed. “Or perhaps you are truly so dense that you cannot see how your actions have shaped events. Sometimes I forget thy art a featherhead.”

Calain rested one elbow on her knee and stared at Gweneth in disbelief. “You would blame me for everything that has transpired, when your sharp tongue sent Zelda alone into Dark Bloom? I should have given thee more than one lump back at Wolf Fortress.”

Gweneth cast her eyes down. She had almost forgotten the argument with Zelda in the barn. She had mocked Zelda, dismissed her power as a sorceress, and treated her as a child. She was ashamed for having done so and suddenly realized the anger she was directing at Calain was more truthfully anger toward herself.

“Why dost thou hurt her so?” Calain demanded, but her voice was softer now. She was bleeding from her busted lip but ignoring it to focus completely on Gweneth.

“Zelda is not Annora,” Calain said soothingly.

“I know,” said Gweneth hoarsely.

When Gweneth was a child, she had loved a girl named Annora. She and Annora had grown up in the same caravan and had fallen in love. When she was seven years old, Gweneth set out to become a knight, and Annora had promised to be her lady and to wait for her return. 

Though knights were typically assigned to a sorceress, they could choose another lady to champion if they found their own. So when Gweneth returned to Ellormest at fourteen to visit her young love, it was with the expectation that Annora was still there, waiting for her. Instead, she discovered that Annora was betrothed to a boy of fifteen from another caravan. The boy’s name was Dylan, and he came to blows with Gweneth, who horrified Annora with her new super strength when she broke the boy’s jaw.

“He can give me a life, children, a f-family,” Annora had explained when the fighting had been stopped (by the frantic caravanners), tears in her eyes, “while with you I would just be…”

“Happy?” Gweneth had supplied, and Annora had run away weeping.

“You’re always so distraught,” present-day Gweneth said to Calain, “that Zelda hath lain with some other woman, but be glad it was never with a man.”

Calain snorted. “What the devil difference does that make?”

Gweneth gave her a withering look. “We are not attracted to men. Tis a state in other women we shall never understand, nor shall they ever understand us, and that lack of understanding can divide two women so easily.”

Calain still looked perplexed, so Gweneth laughed, shook her head, and clapped her on the shoulder.

“Never thee mind,” Gweneth said fondly. “Do not strain thy featherbrain.”

“You must be kind to Zelda,” Calain scolded, getting back to the point. “You jest often about her power, but only because you have not seen the full strength of it.”

Gweneth thought she had certainly gotten a taste of Zelda’s power. The sorceress had forced her to stand still for a night and a day, completely helpless and trapped with her own thoughts. It had forced a great deal of needed introspection on her.

“I have been as docile as a lamb since she fled us,” protested Gweneth, her face twisting. “Do spare me these lectures.”

“As you will. But only because I am too exhausted to continue. Tis been a long week.”

“And a lot of women, if Zelda’s scathing glares are anything to go by.”

Calain awkwardly scratched the back of her red hair. “Noticed that, did you?”

“Aye,” said Gweneth with a laugh. “When you were approaching up the lane, that elven woman across the way winked at you, I saw it, and Zelda looked as if she would flay thee alive if thou responded.”

Calain laughed as well, though in a dispirited sort of way. “It was only three women—”

“Only three?” Gweneth’s eyes popped. “As ever, the women do flock to thee, and thou acts as if twere nothing! I want details: positions, tit sizes, was she a good snatcher?”

Calain laughed, this time with genuine delight, and Gweneth suddenly felt as if everything were back to normal, as if they were in their bunks on Falcon Isle, sharing stories of the maidens they had lain with, as they always did.

Just then, the door opened behind them and Selene emerged. Like Gweneth and Calain, she was out of her armor, instead wearing a tunic and trousers. She came down the step, her hands in her pockets,  and shook her head at them wearily.

“Grandmother hath said the two of you are not allowed back inside,” Selene said, looking down at them sternly, “and I agree with her.”

“Your grandmother’s a hag,” taunted Calain, and Gweneth laughed.

Selene’s lips tightened. “Be that as it may,” she said (Gweneth laughed again), “she is correct about your thuggish behavior. We are knights! Not small children quarreling over trifles! We are to behave with dignity at all times! What was the quarrel anyway?” She looked between them.

“Never you mind,” said Gweneth.

* * *

The Fairy Queen of Elwenhal ©2022 by Ash Gray

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from the author

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Ash Gray is a dorky masculine lesbian living in California.

THE SCOUT AND THE SCOUNDREL BY BARBARA ANN WRIGHT

Blurb:

Zara del Amanecer’s purpose in life is to do her duty, whether as a noble or a scout. She never shirks her responsibilities, especially with missions as simple as this one: to reconnoiter the border with the Firellian Empire and report anything suspicious. Easily done, even with a new recruit conscripted from prison. Never mind that Veronique the thief ignites unfamiliar feelings in Zara, from furious loathing to overwhelming desire.

Roni can’t stop imagining how passionate Zara would be if she thought less about duty, or even if she cared more about survival. Because the Firellians have a new magical weapon no one suspected, and they’re not about to let anyone who’s seen it get out alive. In the sights of an empire planning invasion, Zara and Roni’s principles might not be the only things sacrificed.

Tell us about this scene:

Zara is the CO in charge of a group of scouts made up of conscripted criminals, one of whom is Roni, a former thief. During a mission to the border of a neighboring country, they've bonded and discovered a mutual attraction, and just before this scene, Roni admits that she could fall in love with Zara.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I loved writing a neurodivergent character like Zara, but more than that, I loved looking at her from Roni's point of view. I liked writing about how two opposites can change each other without demanding those changes. And it was fun to put the pair of them in danger in order to see that they're clearly more comfortable with risking their lives than in admitting their feelings, particularly Zara. But I hope everyone could tell by this point that they are each other's happily-ever-after.

* * *

Excerpt:

Zara’s eyes shifted to the side, she smiled slightly, and Roni knew some inkling of a plan had just occurred to her. “Pack up what meager gear you have and get ready to move as soon as you hear the commotion.” She glanced out the cave mouth as if thinking of their location. “You should be able to hear it even from here.”

Even while grumbling, the squad still did as they were told. Roni donned her armor, helmet, and cloak while Zara did the same. They’d head out first, of course, and Roni tried to figure out what Zara had planned but knew she’d be told in time.

If she could wait that long.

Finn approached them slowly, giving Roni another scowl for good measure before looking anxiously at Zara. “You’re sure about this, boss?”

“Absolutely.” She stuck her hand out. Finn eyed it for a moment before clasping her wrist. “The odds are good that we’ll see each other in the future, Finn, but in case we don’t, I want you to know that it’s been an honor having you as my sergeant.”

Finn’s mouth dropped open, and she kept shaking Zara’s arm dumbly. “It’s been my honor, too.” She closed her mouth and swallowed several times before letting go of Zara’s arm.

Tati stood with Leo, both of their arms around Ana. Zara patted each of their shoulders softly, as if afraid she’d hurt her own squad. “It’s been an honor serving with you, too,” she said, nodding at each. “Keep each other safe.”

It was too much. Roni had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from tearing up.

Before Zara could walk away, Tati cleared her throat, glanced at Leo and got a nod, then turned back to Zara. “I didn’t think you’d come for us, boss, you and Roni. Not because of anything you did or said or who you are,” she added, lifting her free hand. “But because, well, no one’s ever…rescued me before, me or Leo. No one’s ever come for us when we’ve been in trouble. And we both wanted to say”—she looked to Leo for another nod—“we both hope to stay in the army, but we never want to serve under anyone but you. That’d be our honor.”

Roni scrubbed away the tears that dribbled down her cheeks. Zara’s lip seemed to wobble for a moment, and she couldn’t seem to speak, though the way her gaze passed over them said she wasn’t lost in her own head again, just at a loss for words.

Gods and devils, she’d better not ruin the moment and say something like, the squad would have to serve under whoever they were assigned to.

“I’ll choose you next time, too,” Zara said quietly.

Roni let out a slow breath and thanked the gods. She hugged everyone except Finn, but her good-byes had less “it’s been an honor,” and more “watch your ass.” She was grateful for that. She couldn’t afford to cry anymore. She followed Zara out of the shallow cave and toward the sounds of the river. “I’m glad you didn’t try one last time to get me to go with the squad,” she said quietly.

“What good is giving orders if they’re going to be disobeyed?” Her smile took any sting out of the words. “And I’m glad you’re here. I’ll always choose you, as well.”

Roni squeezed her hand, her heart lurching. “If it wasn’t for the fact that we’re headed into danger again, I would say that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” She thought for a moment. “No, fuck it, that is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Language,” Zara said softly.

Before Roni could complain that Zara couldn’t try to change every aspect of her personality, Zara stopped and turned, glancing around quickly as if to make sure they were safely hidden. “I could fall for you, too, Veronique Bisset, though I’m still not sure I understand the expression. I wouldn’t pine to death after rejection, but I would…I would…” She gave another glance around. “I would be seriously put out. Disturbed, even. Incommoded—”

“I get it.” Roni kissed her softly. “And I’m glad that you’re you.”

Zara cocked her head again, and Roni could almost feel her thinking, “Who else would I be?”

So Roni kissed her again. “I mean, I’m so glad you are the person you are, Zara. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Zara’s eyes became a little misty, and she wiped them with the heel of her hand. “Thank you. Now come on. We can’t waste any more of the day on sentiment and tears.”

Roni couldn’t agree more. Although… “And you’re happy I’m the person I am, right?”

After another look of utter confusion over one shoulder, Zara said, “I wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise.”

So perfect. So Zara.

“What’s the diversion plan?” Roni asked, speaking even softer when they had to cross an open stretch of rock between patches of trees.

Zara didn’t speak until they were under cover again. “One of us is going to power the Vox in their phoenix form and burn the scaffolding and ships to ash.”

She said it so calmly, Roni thought she might have heard wrong. She turned the words over in her head several times. Did either of them have the strength to accomplish such a task? How close would they have to be?

And how could they even hope to escape after stirring up that hornet’s nest?

Roni supposed they’d have to hurry up and be in love. They didn’t have any more time to fall.

* * *

The Scout and the Scoundrel ©2021 by Barbara Ann Wright

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Barbara Ann Wright writes fantasy and science fiction novels. Her work has made recommended reading lists on Tor.com, Book Riot, and Syfy.com. She’s won a Goldie Award and five Rainbow Awards and has been a finalist in the Foreword Review Book of the Year Award and the Lambda Awards.

BANSHEE AND YOU BY CAM ALABASTOR

Blurb:

“The human was supposed to die at my scream. But for her, I'll defy death itself . . .”

The last thing Shufen Lu wants is to move to a forgotten little town to live with her mom, but her overbearing step-mother gives her little choice. Her mom is welcoming, but the town is strange and sleepy and boring. That is, until she meets the mysterious and alluring Tiernan Aodh, and Shufen's life takes a thrilling and terrifying turn.

Tiernan hides a dangerous secret in her sweet and lonely heart: she's a banshee, a creature of doom, an omen of death. For years she protected her tiny town, but now, nobody is safe, least of all Shufen, the innocent and intriguing human fated to die at Tiernan's hands . . . . Now they must bargain with death . . .

It's not easy to cheat death, but Shufen is prepared to go to the ends of the earth if it means she gets to have Tiernan

Tell us about this scene:

The context of this scene is the main character has died but her love interest has decided to keep her alive for a selfish reason.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It is pretty exciting to see that the title of the book I am writing has come to fruition as something like this. The banshee is here with the 'you' of my main character Shufen. The sapphic romantic tension is palpable and every time I read this scene I think, "what if?" This is the what if moment. At such a moment, anything can happen and especially in romance, this is where the couple is on a precipice where the decide which way to fall i.e. in lovers or avoiding the attraction. I adore my characters very much and I wanted to see them continue in something that is their love story or their hate story. It's the best moment of the entire book, the 'what if.'

* * *

Excerpt:

When I put my hands down and opened my eyes, I realized that I was next to a very bright open window.  I held up my hand to block out the light before it became bearable.  I put my hand down and then the hospital bed came into view where I could hear the blare of a straight line on the heart monitor.

I covered my ears and then realized the pale still body on the bed was me. “How does it feel?”

I knew that voice.  I turned to look at her.  The girl who had screamed for me with her mouth unnaturally wide. Why was it her who was here with me?

“I don’t understand what you mean.”  I said slowly feeling self conscious.  “Why am I outside of my body?”

“I mean how does it feel to be recently deceased.”

“Deceased?  What do you mean?  You mean that I’m dead.”  I sat down on the chair next to my body.  I cursed low as I looked at how white I was.

“Well you should be.”

“Does that mean I’m not dead?”  I was so confused.

Tiernan looked at me with that same predatory amber glint in her eyes.  She was suave and seductive at the same time as she looked at me.  She had never been more beautiful.  “Dead. Undead.  What difference does it make to you as your life is just another dandelion blowing in the wind?”

“It makes a difference to me.”

“You’re stuck in between here and hereafter because I need you.  I didn’t exactly pick you or cause the accident but out of convenience you’re here so I don’t technically have to help you to leave.”

“Are you like a grim reaper or something?”  I narrowed my eyes wondering where her cloak and giant knife was.  What kind of creature was talking to . . . I mean if this wasn’t all a hallucination then.

“I’m a Banshee.  That’s why I kept yelling at you because I knew you were about to die.  This is also why I spend a lot of time around your mom and knew what she was up to because–”

“-you knew I was about to die.”

“Fire hair.  Creepy eyes.  It’s all kind of some god’s idea of grace.”

“Why would you go to high school then?”  I admitted without thinking.  “I mean you have a whole built in job and everything.  You could just–”

“I’m cursed to do this, not by choice and if you’ve bothered to notice our school has a mortician’s certificate I can finish before I graduate.  My mom is a mortician.”

“Your mom is–”

“Yeah.”

“You know this makes you sound insane right.”

“Your dead.  I’m talking to you.  Think about me.  Did I ever scare you?  Yes.  Well now you can repay the favor because I have an assignment for Women’s Witch Daily to write an article about falling in love with the recently deceased.”

“You kept me alive so you could do your homework!”

“Yep.”  Tiernan looked at me sheepishly.  “Procrastination at it’s finest.  I know you think I’m pretty.  And you’re the only girl in the whole school whose interested so why not?  It’s not like you’re going anywhere.”

“That is true and I’m not ready to stop being alive yet.”

“So it’s settled you’re coming with me.”

“No.  If I do the thing you want me to do I want something in exchange.”

“Okay.  Name it.”

“I want to be remembered for something.  Why don’t you make me homecoming queen while I still have time left?  Then people can say I did something.  I have an accomplishment.  Mom can show Dad that she was the better parent.”

“I think that’s a rash way to get inefficient results, but if you think so.”  Tiernan snapped her

fingers.  “Let’s do it.  Now we need to get moving.”

She walked out of the hospital room.  On the bed I was wearing a thin gown and I saw that my monitor was beeping faintly.  The ghost of me was still wearing the clothes from this morning so I decided to go out.

* * *

Banshee and You ©2022 by Cam Alabastor

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Cam Alabastor is the author of Banshee and You, a novel a part of Inkfort Press Derby 2022. She really enjoys reading novels in the fantasy and romance genre. Currently she is writing her second book.

A FLAME AMONG THE STARS BY THEA LANDEN

Blurb:

The kingdom of Dardrith is under attack from hordes of juvenile dragons. When the king offers marriage to his daughter as a reward to whoever can discover the source of the dragons and prevent future infestations, Meg’s best friend, Ronan, convinces her to help him win the ultimate prize and save their families from a lifetime of poverty. Despite her initial reluctance, they also enlist the aid of Ronan’s sister, the village blacksmith, and a stranger Meg meets in the local marketplace.

The band of aspiring heroes doesn’t travel far before the identity of the stranger is exposed; she is none other than the king’s daughter herself, Princess Celendra. Aside from being the heir to the throne, Celendra is keeping some other secrets. During a battle with a group of dragons, she reveals she has magical powers, the ability to conjure and manipulate elements such as fire and water. Furthermore, she confesses that, like Meg, she would prefer to pursue romantic relationships with other women, which she hasn’t told her father.

As they journey throughout the land, Meg and Celendra embark on a passionate fling, though Meg tries not to form any deep emotional attachment to the princess due to their respective social classes. Following revelations about the dragon attacks and her family history, Celendra must choose between doing what’s expected of her or taking charge of her own destiny. The future of Dardrith is at stake. Can Meg and Celendra find a way to remain together while protecting the people and home they love?

Tell us about this scene:

Meg and her friends have set out to investigate the source of the dragons attacking their home, and the mysterious traveler who joins them is none other than Princess Celendra. Though Meg doesn’t believe Celendra can possibly have a romantic interest in a peasant like her, the princess convinces her to sneak away from their campsite in order to convince her.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I’ve always loved sci-fi and fantasy, and I get especially excited whenever I combine one of those genres with romance! A Flame Among the Stars is a fantasy adventure inspired by my love for video games. In so many of my favorites, the main character needs to assemble their team before embarking on their quest, and if they happen to fall in love with one of their teammates along the way, that’s just an added bonus. This scene from the book is special to me because regardless of genre, what’s more magical than a first kiss?

* * *

Excerpt:

Meg let out a nervous chuckle, ruffling the hair at the side of her head. “Careful, there. You might not know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Is that a warning or a promise?”

She swallowed back a groan as Celendra’s coy remarks threatened to tear away all her reasons for resisting. Still, the doubts lingering at the back of her mind made her hesitate. “I have to ask,” she said. “And if you tell any of the others, Ronan especially, about this rare vulnerable moment of mine, I…well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll come up with some sort of retribution soon enough.”

She tilted her head forward, her loose waves settling around her face in a flawless frame. “I’m listening.”

Meg inhaled a deep breath, then let it out. “Why me?” she finally said. “With everyone you’ve ever come across, from the staff at the castle to visitors from far off lands, why are you interested in an insignificant peasant from a village that doesn’t even have a name?”

Celendra crossed her arms in mock irritation. “I thought we’ve been over this. From the moment we met, you were friendly and kind to me, even before you knew my true identity. You invited me, a stranger, to join you, even giving me your sister’s boots to make sure I’d be comfortable.”

She kicked at a tree root. “It’s not like anyone else was using them at the moment,” she mumbled.

“Then, no matter what’s happened since, you always know exactly what to do or say. I wish I could be half as smart and perceptive as you.”

“And I still think you’re crazy for saying so.” Her gaze remained glued to the ground, her next words barely audible in the thick forest. “I’m really not as special as you make me out to be.”

“What else do I need to do to convince you?” Dark-red lips curved down into an alluring pout. “Fine, I’ll keep going, then. I like the way your hair always looks so wild, like you’ve spent the whole day running through the wind on another adventure. I’m fascinated by how the color of your eyes shifts with the light, from calm seas to stormy skies. And whenever I see your smile—not like when you’re fooling around with your friends but the real one—I can’t help but feel happy, too.”

“Okay, okay. Enough.” Fire burned in Meg’s cheeks, and she hoped the shadows would help camouflage it. “You’re making me all flustered.”

“Oh?” Celendra tapped her chin, pretending to study her. “I didn’t think anything ever flustered you, Meg. How interesting.”

She tried to laugh, though it came out as more of a snort. “So, putting aside all the flattery, where does this leave us?”

“Well….” Leaning against the tree, she tossed her hair back, letting the starlight illuminate her face. “Based on our conversation last night and everything since, I think you owe me a kiss.”

Meg’s heart skipped a beat, but before she could respond, Celendra straightened, her air of self-assurance replaced by a perplexed expression. “Is this how these things are supposed to go?” she whispered. “The words sounded pretty good in my head, but now, I’m not so sure.”

She couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from turning up in what she assumed was one of the aforementioned genuine smiles. “It was perfect.”

Stepping forward, she closed the gap between them. As Celendra gazed at her with her striking green eyes, she felt an obligation to make this kiss memorable. Reaching up, Meg caressed the side of her face, her thumb tracing the contour of her cheekbone. With gentle pressure, she tilted her chin upward and brought her mouth to hers, letting it hover in place for a brief yet endless moment before coming in contact with her.

Soft lips welcomed her, parting when she snaked her tongue forward. The taste of her made Meg’s knees tremble, and she sought to explore her mouth in detail. With every advance, Celendra’s tongue engaged her with a playful swirl, eager to probe into her in return.

Meg buried her fingers in her silky hair, holding her tight. Her other hand meandered lower to rest at her waist, and her imagination went into overdrive fantasizing about what lay beneath her heavy layers of clothing. Celendra enhanced the vivid images by gripping her shoulders and pulling her closer. With the sturdy tree behind her, their bodies flattened together, and Meg had to resist the temptation to tear her cloak off of her. She reminded herself to be patient, however, and settled for losing herself to their blazing kiss.

For one glorious moment, all her earlier qualms vanished. It was so, so easy to forget who they were outside the seclusion of the forest, and to ignore the dangers they sought to face and eliminate. The other woman’s sensual touch erased all negativity from her mind and provided a glimpse into what delights the future might bring.

* * *

A Flame Among the Stars ©2022 by Thea Landen

Published by Decadent Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Thea Landen lives in New York with her family. Though she’s dabbled in all romantic subgenres, she has a special love for sci-fi, fantasy, and adventure…anything that stretches the imagination. When she’s not writing, she’s knitting or crocheting, playing video games, or pretending to enjoy cardio and squats.

Sign up here for Thea Landen ’s author newsletter.

SWEET PALADIN BY ALEX WASHOE

Blurb:

A Love that Transcends Time ... and Scones to Die For

Celebrity chef Holly Milan ditched her TV career and Michelin Star restaurant (along with her rich New York boyfriend) to run a pay-what-you-can diner in Seattle’s Fremont district. She devotes her energies to feeding the local homeless camp, but no matter how much she bakes, it never feels like enough to feed the world’s hunger.

Akachi of Asphodel is a twelfth-century knight of the Order of Sophia, whose home was destroyed by Crusaders. Crying out for help from the Goddess, she awakens to find herself in a strange new world of wonderous technology and unforeseen dangers.

The moment they meet, their powerful attraction is obvious. But they soon begin to discover a deeper bond – one that was forged on the day they were born and could be destined to rewrite the history of the world.

Tell us about this scene:

It is Valentines Day. Akachi (who doesn't really understand the holiday but has been coached by friends) sets up a romantic rendezvous with Holly by leaving a trail of candy hearts to lead her to the hot tub.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I think this is a sweetly romantic scene which really captures the relationship between the two fated, time-crossed lovers. Valentine's Day has played a special part in several of my romances, and this was the first.

* * *

Excerpt:

There was a piece of red construction paper stuck to the door of my apartment. Someone had written on it in dark ink, flowing calligraphic lines that formed awkward letters, as if the person had beautiful handwriting but had just learned the alphabet.

It said, “Happy Valentine’s Day”.

Huh.

I’d completely forgotten about — how had I forgotten about Valentine’s. Of course, it came along about two weeks after Imbolc. That’s how the wheel of the year turns, as Mom would say. With a pang of guilt, I realized I hadn’t made any heart cookies for the diner, or decorated or …

I took a deep breath and made myself dump all that stuff. I smiled at the note on the door.

“Hello,” I called as I stepped inside.

The track lighting was turned way down and there was soft music playing. Another construction paper sign was taped on the floor, with an arrow pointing along to another, then another, marking out a trail back toward the bedroom.

I laughed out loud.

A gentle, fruity incense floated on the air. Now that I was closer, I could hear that the music was twangy, middle eastern or Asian, like the music my mom played in her store, except more sensuous, romantic.

I stopped at the open door of my bedroom. There were paper hearts around the door frame. The light was tinted red, and the bed was strewn with rose petals.

“Oh wow.”

To one side of the door was a crystal bowl filled with conversation hearts. I squealed and grabbed a handful.

“I think I’m supposed to ask you to be my Valentine?” Akachi said.

She approached me, wearing a red silk robe, way too long to be one of mine and not something I’d helped her pick out. It flowed over her body like wine, conforming to the long muscles of her leg, the curve of her hip, the swell of her breasts, the strong, solid line of her shoulders.

I almost choked on the hearts I’d popped in my mouth.

“Uh …” I coughed and sputtered. “I was … uhm … your Valentine from the first moment I saw you. Before that, I guess. But if I wasn’t before, that outfit ….”

She stopped in front of me, put her hands on my shoulders and gently squeezed them. I moaned.

“You’re very tight. You need to relax.”

“Yeah well, pull-ups do that to you, they’re evil. And then I was running around with Arugula and …”

She kissed the corner of my mouth. “Hush. Come on.”

Turning — and oh what a pleasure that was to watch — she led me by the hand across my room. The hot tub was uncovered and gently bubbling, some of the scent that spiced the room coming from flowers that floated on the surface.

“I see you found a floral witch somewhere to help you,” I said.

“I had a lot of help. I didn’t even know what Valentine’s Day was until Britt mentioned it.”

“Britt would. You know, the whole time I was with Valentin, we never did anything for Valentine’s Day? He was usually pretty good about special days, but he hated Valentine’s Day. Because of his name, I think, everyone always mispronounced it.” I sighed. “I’m standing here babbling about my ex.”

Akachi chuckled. “Britt said you loved the holiday growing up.”

“Oh, I did. I would make cookies for everybody, and we’d always have a party, even if we weren’t dating. And …” I opened my hand, which was still full of candy, “conversation hearts are my favorite.”

“Dating.” She stretched the word out, tasting it. “Is that what we’re doing?”

“In a crazy upside-down sort of way, I guess. As much as we’ve had time for.”

“So, it is appropriate for us to celebrate?”

“Totally appropriate. I want to celebrate every day with you, Akachi.”

“The same, beloved.” She gestured toward the hot tub. “This will help you relax?”

“I bet it will.”

From behind me, her hand slipped down my body and found the zipper on my skirt. She pulled it down.

“You’ve become quite handy with modern clothes fasteners.”

“I have incentive.” The skirt fell around my feet, and her hand stroked my thigh. “Should I help you with the rest?”

“You most certainly should.”

She unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off my shoulders, kissing the hollow at the base of my neck.

“Oh!” I squirmed. “Isn’t that the spot you told me to hit someone?”

“That was more out here.” Her fingers traced my collarbone. “The nerves are very sensitive.” She kissed again, this time near the center of my shoulder.

“Yes, they are.”

Akachi struggled a little with the bra strap, which made me giggle. “No one really knows how those work.” I reached back and unhooked it. Then I slipped my underwear down and edged closer to the hot tub. Even though the room was comfortably warm, I felt goose bumps on my skin.

“No,” Akachi said. “I wouldn’t change one thing about your shape.”

“Glad to hear that.” I popped another few hearts in my mouth. “Can I get in now?”

She nodded.

Slipping into the hot tub, which I hadn’t fired up in forever, was excruciatingly pleasurable. My muscles, one by one, cheered with happiness and released their tension. The tight knot in the back of my neck dissolved instantly and the incipient stress headache I’d been nursing uncoiled like smoke when a candle’s extinguished.

“Heaven.” I sank down to my chin and let the heat and the gentle jets buffet me. After a second, I opened my eyes. “Almost heaven.”

“Almost?”

“How can it be heaven without my paladin?”

She bowed deeply. “I am yours to command, my Lady.”

I waved imperiously. “Join me.”

She started to untie the belt of her robe, setting my heart beating.

“Wait.”

She paused.

“Could you get the bowl of hearts and bring it over here? Then join me?”

She glanced at the bowl and back. “Truly? That is the order of your wishes? First the candy, then me?”

I shrugged, giggling. “I am what I am.”

Perhaps in punishment, she shed the robe, which was all she was wearing. The tinted light shimmered on her dark skin as she reached up and unwound the scarf from her head. Then, slowly, much more slowly than necessary, she strode across the room and retrieved the bowl, carried it back and set it within easy reach. I couldn’t take my eyes off her the entire time. She stepped into the hot tub and settled down right beside me.

It was a long time before I remembered the candy.

* * *

Sweet Paladin ©2022 by Alex Washoe

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Alex Washoe (they/them) is a nonbinary writer, game designer, and full-time pet parent living in Seattle, WA. In previous incarnations, they have been a bookseller, a wildlife rehab care assistant, a dog walker at a companion animal shelter, a public speaker, an amateur stand-up comedian, and many other less interesting things. Alex is prone to sudden, seemingly random enthusiasms — the list currently includes birdwatching, baking, running, hair dye … and of course writing. Writing is always job one.

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SONG OF STARS BY RAE D. MAGDON

Blurb:

Sefina, a young orphan, studies music at the Temple of Dreams. She loves to sing with her best friend Mirae, but their voices aren’t the same. Mirae’s voice heals the sick while Sefina’s is ordinary. Unable to compete with Mirae’s miracles, Sefina longs for acknowledgment from Lady Lirath, their demanding music instructor.

When their temple’s leader dies, Sefina must compete with Mirae for the position—not only against a miracle-worker, but the woman she loves.

Tell us about this scene:

This is the opening scene from my friends-to-lovers music school novel, Song of Stars. Mirae, the POV character, has died and woken up in the afterlife. There, she listens as her lover, Sefina, recounts the story of their life together and their intense relationship.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I rewrote this scene several times before I was satisfied with it, but I ended up quite pleased with the results. It's one of my favorites because it introduces the world, the main character, and the important choice she must make all in one go.

* * *

Excerpt:

Mirae — Firstday

DAWNBELL TOLLS THE LOW, melodic notes of morning. Mirae stands upon a beach of black sand, gazing across a vast ocean of stars. The waves glow like the last rays of sunset, rusty orange bleeding into deep crimson, twilight purples pooling into blues so dark they border on black. Faint white lights float like lanterns upon the surface, rolling and bobbing. Beckoning.

Mirae smiles. She has died and moved on to the sea of stars, just as planned. Not the worst end, from what she remembers. Better to die for a cause than in a sickbed. Besides, it seems peaceful here. The breeze is cool against her skin, its brine sharp in her nose. It smells like Farsea, the village of her birth. She steps into the surf, bare feet sinking in the wet sand. Waves swirl around her ankles as though to tug her deeper. She spreads her arms wide to catch the sea spray, feeling lighter than she has in two long years. At last, she can rest.

Dawnbell tolls again, booming and insistent over the ocean’s hiss. A strange sound to hear in the afterlife. Mirae frowns, glancing over her shoulder. There are no buildings here. No bell towers. There is only the beach, which stretches some distance before disappearing into a line of grey fog. She turns once more toward the ocean, only to pause as a strange echo reaches her ears. A familiar voice sings from somewhere beyond the fog, a rich alto that starts soft, but grows louder and more resonant.

The sun’s begun to rise, the moon has gone away.

Mirae stops. She knows that voice. Those words. “Sefina…”

Open up your eyes and greet a brand new day.

A stinging lump stops up Mirae’s throat. If there’s anyone she regrets leaving behind, it’s her Sefina. She stands ankle-deep in the waves, her previous certainty shaken. Part of her wants to dive into the sea and seek refuge beneath the surface, a reward she’s more than earned. Another part longs to follow Sefina’s voice into the fog, in hopes of seeing her face one last time.

The breeze stills. Sefina’s song dies away. Instead, Mirae hears the creak of oars in the distance. A rowboat cuts across the starry waves, its dark silhouette growing larger as it glides toward shore. A hunched figure wearing a brown cloak pulls the oars, stirring the water in steady rhythm. The rowboat slides to a stop in the shallows, its prow nudging the sand.

Mirae glimpses the face beneath the rower’s hood. She gasps. “Speaker Yeneri?” Though her old mentor entered Of-Eternal-Sleep’s embrace years ago, there can be no mistake. Mirae knows that snow-white hair. That wrinkled brown face. Those dark, glittering eyes.

“Mirae.” Yeneri’s voice is rough but warm, like the crackle of a log upon the hearth. “It’s been too long.”

Mirae wades into the shallows, skirts swirling around her legs. She leans over the boat, pulling Yeneri into a tight embrace. Tears burn her eyes, mingling with the sea spray on her face as she breathes in the speaker’s familiar scent. Yeneri smells like fresh linens hanging in a warm summer breeze. “I’ve missed you.”

Yeneri smooths Mirae’s hair beneath her hand. Her swollen joints seem to lack the stiffness Mirae remembers. “I’ve missed you too, but why have you come so soon?”

Mirae blinks away more tears. “It’s a long story, but I died a noble death. Others will carry on the work I began. I’m not disappointed in how my story ended…”

Wake up! Wake up! Flowers bloom, birds sing. Wake up! Wake up! Good morning, everything.

Sefina’s voice rings across the waves, beautifully bright and clear. Mirae lifts her chin from Yeneri’s shoulder and glances toward the beach. Pale grey light shines in the distance, reminding her of daybreak on a rainy winter morning. It clears away some of the mist, revealing a faint image. An unfamiliar bedroom, where a figure sits slumped upon a stool.

The edges of the image are blurred, its faded colors nearly translucent, but Mirae recognizes Sefina. Her head hangs forward, wavy brown hair falling about her face. She sits beside the bed, holding someone’s hand. Mirae can see their face clearly. It’s her own, eyes closed, lips parted. Her body lies still, draped in a thin white sheet.

Mirae wrenches her gaze away. She can’t bear to witness anymore. Can’t bear to watch Sefina mourn her death. Sacrificing herself for a cause was one thing. Witnessing the consequences is different. She looks to Yeneri, her anchor, the wise one who always knew which path to take in life. “Speaker, am I dead?”

“Not quite yet,” Yeneri says. “You should have died, but certain interested parties have requested you be given a choice.”

Mirae licks her lips. They’ve gone dry in the brisk salt air. “A choice whether to live or die?” She isn’t sure she wants a choice. Not now, after she’s already given so much. Choices are exhausting. It's all too easy to make the wrong ones.

Yeneri nods. Her dark eyes shine amidst the deep wrinkles and folds of her face. “This decision must be yours, but the boundaries of time are fluid here. Fluid enough for you to hear Sefina’s side of the story.”

At the mention of Sefina’s name, Mirae looks back at the sky. The ghostly image of Sefina tucks a loc of hair behind her ear, revealing her pale face and red-ringed green eyes. She leans forward, whispering to the body lying on the bed. This time, when her voice drifts toward Mirae on the wind, it isn’t a song. It’s a choked, desperate plea.

“Please, Mirae. Remember everything you have to live for, because I’m utterly lost without you.”

* * *

Song of Stars ©2022 by Rae D. Magdon

Published by Desert Palm Press

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Desert Palm Press

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Rae D. Magdon has published 14 books of sapphic fiction through Desert Palm Press. Her cyberpunk novel, Lucky 7, won the Golden Crown Literary Award in 2019 and the Rainbow Award that same year. Her latest release is Song of Stars, a friends-to-lovers fantasy novel set at a magical music school.

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THE STING OF VICTORY BY S D SIMPER

Blurb:

“When faced with monstrosity, become the greater monster. The sting of victory will fade with time.”

Haunted by a history of horror and abuse, Flowridia, a witch with a tender heart, finds a second chance in the home of her kingdom’s royal family. With employment comes friendship, and perhaps she has finally found a place to belong—until she catches the eye of Lady Ayla Darkleaf, a woman with enticing grace and a predatory smile. The corrupt world of politics consumes her, and Flowridia falls into a toxic love affair surely doomed for heartbreak. Yet when Ayla’s legacy as a monster unfolds, Flowridia sees only the tender soul hiding beneath.

An ancient deity returns, hell-bent on restoring the world to its natural order, and Flowridia’s kingdom is tasked to stop him. Caught in the ensuing clash of gods, her loyalties will be tempted at every turn—by family, by fate, and by the woman whose claws grip her heart.

Horror abounds, monsters rise, and hearts break in the first installment of FALLEN GODS.

Publisher's Note: The Sting of Victory is a fantasy horror novel intended for adult audiences and contains content warnings, including depictions of DV. Please see the author's website for a full list of content warnings.

Tell us about this scene:

Near the end of The Sting of Victory, the embassy negotiated at the beginning of the book has finally been completed, and a celebration is had. Flowridia has been dreaming about dancing with Ayla ever since she watched her performance at the beginning of the book, and she finally gets that chance.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

In a book filled to the brim with horror and gore, Flowridia's dance with Ayla stands out as one of few precious, innocent moments. Against all odds, our lead couple has truly fallen in love, what was once a toxic love affair becoming something worth rooting for. Ayla is a monster, a creature of darkness and depravity, but here we see a glimpse of her potential to become something greater than her nature. It's a small moment, but it's truly the culmination of weeks of conflict and struggle. Instead of dragging Flowridia down, we see that Ayla's broken soul has started healing.

* * *

Excerpt:

For as lovely as the reception hall was, one particular sight outshone the rest.

The room seemed out of a storybook, decorated with draped fabrics and glittering lights. Candles lined the walls, and at the ceiling shone globes of light—summoned by Etolié, Flowridia guessed. Tables lined with food skirted near the entrance, and a dance floor dominated the room, though not so large as Marielle’s ballroom. Outside, a glass door led to a balcony where stars gleamed, scarcely visible in the soft lighting.

But in the center, Ayla awaited, a picturesque island of blue and black in a sea of glowing lights. Her gentle smile juxtaposed oddly with what Flowridia had so often seen, that of predator about to consume its prey, but the effect was the same: Ayla beckoned, and Flowridia followed.

The guests, the food, and even the music seemed to fade when their hands touched. Ayla placed Flowridia’s on her shoulder. “Allow me,” Ayla said, a bit of amusement in her tone. “Follow my steps. You’ll do well.”

The smaller woman led with one hand on Flowridia’s hip and the other clasping her fingers. She moved effortlessly, smoothly, and Flowridia clumsily followed, half a beat behind.

“If you keep staring at the ground, you’ll never improve.”

Flowridia looked up, meeting Ayla’s expectant eyes. “I’m afraid of stepping on you.”

“I promise not to bite if you do,” Ayla replied, teething showing as she chuckled. “Be brave, my darling. Eyes on me; your feet will follow.”

Flowridia matched her stare, realizing she did, indeed, move easier if she focused on her partner.

A master of her craft, Ayla twirled in time and helped Flowridia to do the same. Fast or slow, the songs would change, and Ayla instructed her steps. It seemed she was a master of all arts, from lively jigs to sensual ballads, or perhaps simply talented enough to make it up as she went. Flowridia listened, following closely with the rhythm, and at times letting Ayla pull her around. Sometimes she stumbled, but Ayla simply laughed and helped her to stand.

Ayla laughed so prettily. When Ayla danced, she looked so carefree, genuine joy in her smile. Never had she appeared so at ease, and Flowridia wondered where she’d learned.

A question for another night. Flowridia was content to bask in Ayla’s radiating light.

Marielle socialized when she didn’t play, but when she joined the band, Flowridia thought her harp a perfect addition. Thalmus only watched the partygoers, a visible void of guests around him. Etolié and Khastra chatted in the corner, and somewhere in her head, Flowridia wondered what the Celestial thought of the scene.

But her focus remained on Ayla. In the blur of lights and music, Ayla’s face shone brighter than them all. When exhaustion pulled at her eyelids, Ayla’s laughter kept her moving on.

And for hours, she danced.

The party dwindled. The lights began to fade. Her head rested against Ayla’s shoulder, and a voice cut through the music. “Let me take you home, Flowra.”

Despite Ayla’s diminutive size, she scooped Flowridia up, her unholy strength funneled into the tender gesture. Flowridia rested her head against Ayla’s shoulder, cradled as she stepped past the guests and out the door. Once alone, she slipped into a shadow, the familiar, fogged landscape too stimulating for Flowridia’s tired eyes. Instead, she looped her arms around Ayla’s neck, curling into the protective embrace.

Soon, a plush bed met her back. Flowridia opened her eyes and realized they had returned to her room. Demitri’s tongue licked her cheek. Did you have a nice time?

“I had a wonderful time,” she whispered, both to her wolf familiar and to the breathtaking woman standing beside her bed.

A hand caressed her cheek. “Perhaps I’ll stay a little longer,” Ayla said, and Flowridia felt her light weight press against her in bed. Cold, caring arms tucked the blankets around her and then wrapped around her body.

Flowridia fell asleep.

Flowridia awoke alone.

But there, on the bedside table, a scripted note and a single, red rose:

The dance was sublime. I love you, Flowra

* * *

The Sting of Victory ©2018 by S D Simper

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from the author

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

S D Simper is a bestselling horror author, award-winner of fantasy romance, and understands that the true secret to writing great villains is living with cats (which she loves with all her heart). She and her wife share a home with four cats, a Great Dane, and innumerable bookshelves.

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THERE'S MAGIC BETWEEN US BY JILLIAN MARIA

Blurb:

A diehard city girl, 16-year-old Lydia Barnes is reluctant to spend a week in her grandma’s small town. But hidden beneath Fairbrooke’s exterior of shoddy diners and empty farms, there’s a forest that calls to her. In it, she meets Eden: blunt, focused, and fascinating. She claims to be hunting fae treasure, and while Lydia laughs it off at first, it quickly becomes obvious that Eden’s not joking—magic is real.

Lydia joins the treasure hunt, thrilled by all the things it offers her. Things like endless places in the forest to explore and a friendship with Eden that threatens to blossom into something more. But even as she throws herself into her new adventure, some questions linger. Why did her mom keep magic a secret? Why do most of the townspeople act like the forest is evil? It seems that, as much as Lydia would like to pretend otherwise, not everything in Fairbrooke is as bright and easy as a new crush…

Tell us about this scene:

After days of treasure hunting in a magical forest together, Lydia and Eden's plans are put on hold due to an intense rainstorm.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

In earlier drafts, Lydia jokingly said that this moment was like "living a Hayley Kiyoko music video or something," and I stand by that description. It's fun, it's sweet, and it's everything you could want from a teen sapphic summer romance. I think there's something terribly romantic in the idea of getting caught out in the rain with your crush and needing to take shelter in some special, secret place. It's telling that in a book full of literal faeries and witches, this is the scene that feels most magical to me. Also, a fun fact: a version of this scene was the very first thing I imagined when coming up with the concept for this book!

* * *

Excerpt:

“WELL—”

That’s all she gets out before the sky cracks open.

I guess the rain was just taking a break, because all at once it’s falling faster and thicker than ever. The droplets are large and cold and almost painful. I holler, covering my head with my arms, but it does absolutely nothing.

“Shit!”

It feels like I’ve walked into a television playing white noise. The trees are vague looming shapes, and Eden is blurry even though she’s hardly a foot away from me. For a long moment, she just stands there. I’m not sure, but I think she might look between me and the path a few times. Then she shouts something. I can’t make it out above the rain’s hiss.

“What?”

Eden’s by my side in an instant. Her hands, gripping my shoulder and arm, are shockingly warm. But not as warm as her breath at my ear. It travels all the way to my gut and shivers there.

“Follow me!”

The hand on my arm slides down, fingers lacing together with mine. I try not to read too much into it. She’s being practical; we’d get separated for sure if she didn’t. But dammit, this is maybe the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me in the history of ever. I’m not sure if the cold of the rain is making my heart pound or something else.

Eden breaks into a run. I don’t think she can see the trees around us any better than I can, but she never wavers. Thank God one of us knows where she’s going. Our locked hands are the only thing keeping me from careening off another cliff.

The ground beneath our feet changes. Instead of dragging me across the grass, Eden’s brought me to… stairs? I look down to confirm that, yes, we are walking up a set of rustic wooden stairs in the middle of the forest. Honestly, considering all I’ve seen this week, I don’t question it.

Eden leads me up them carefully, her hands in both of mine for balance. I’m too distracted by that to realize where we’re going until Eden hip-checks a door and leads me through it. The rain stops falling on us as soon as we step inside.

I blink, trying to figure out where Eden’s taken me. But it’s too dim. The single window on the far wall might as well be painted on, because none of the gray light from outside reaches in. I can sense walls around us and smell damp wood, but that’s about it.

“Hold on.” Eden’s wispy voice travels across the space, half obscured by the rain drumming the roof over our heads. I can barely make out the sound of shuffling, then careful movements as she walks across the room. There’s some rummaging before warm yellow light pours from a lantern in her hands, illuminating the space.

A thick rug takes up most of the floor. There’s a bed in the corner with a lot of blankets, a desk near the window, a chest covered in more blankets, a mirror, and some drawers. Eden’s left her sandals by the door, and she walks comfortably across the room in bare feet.

It sort of looks like a cabin, complete with wooden planks. Except one of the walls curves, made of bark instead.

“You have a treehouse? Eden, this is so cool!”

Eden’s smile fades as she gets closer. She puts a hand on my arm. “You’re shivering.”

Oh. Yeah, I guess I am. But Eden’s shoulders tremble, too. “So are you.” I laugh a little. “Rain’s cold.”

“Hold on.” Eden hangs the lantern on a hook over my head. Then she kneels by the chest, setting the blankets aside so she can open it. She pulls out a towel and hands one to me. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I swipe it across my arms and legs, then scrub it against my thick curls. It helps, but my damp clothes still cling to my body. I follow Eden’s example and take off my boots and socks, but it’s still not really enough. I shiver.

“Here.” Eden holds out a dark yellow dress with a sheepish smile. “It might be a little big on you, but…”

“At least it’ll be dry.” I take it and do my best not to think anything too sappy. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She leans over the opened chest and pulls out another dress—this one’s brown with white frills at the collar. She turns her back on me and starts unbuttoning her blouse.

I bite the inside of my cheek and spin around so fast I almost fall over, my heart pounding. I fumble my way out of my T-shirt, then let my jean shorts slide to the floor with a wet plop. My numb fingertips wrestle with the buttons on my borrowed dress.

Meanwhile, most of my attention is focused on Eden. I can hear every goddamned shift of fabric, even with the rain drumming above us. I’m not going to turn around to watch her change—that would be totally creepy. But I’m hyperaware of her, of every movement she makes behind me. It tingles against my spine, tickles against my lungs.

I’m mostly buttoned up when she asks in a soft voice, “Are you done?”

“Yeah. Practically.” I finish the last few buttons as I turn around.

Eden’s all put together in her fresh clothing, damp hair smooth against her back. I can’t help but compare her to how I must look. I know how my hair gets when it’s wet, all matted and weird. I’m a mess in an oversized dress.

Still, Eden smiles when she sees me.

* * *

There's Magic Between Us ©2021 by Jillian Maria

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Jillian Maria writes queer girls in queer (usually magical) situations. As a YA author, she loves writing the books she wishes were there for her when she was a teen. She lives in Michigan with a roommate and a cat, and is probably humming something right now.

Sign up here for Jillian Maria ’s author newsletter.

SPELLBOUND BY OPHELIA SILK

Blurb:

Jane Paris is everything a young woman should be. She's polite, charming, and obedient, with a glowing reputation and a good man all but begging for her hand in marriage. If she has any doubts about her role in life, they’re easy to push down. But when she takes a fateful shortcut through the woods, her idyllic life is threatened by an attack from the fabled beasts who stalk the trees. Fortunately, she’s rescued by the equally fabled witch who lives there. Unfortunately, the attack has left injuries that only the witch can heal. Jane is forced to stay with her until she recovers.

This poses a problem, because the witch, Adelaide Thompson, is everything that Jane is not: blunt, abrasive, and unapologetic. But there is more to the fabled woman of the woods than meets the eye, and her harsh exterior belies a gentle kindness. As they grow closer, Jane’s attraction to both magic and the witch herself get harder to ignore. But can a life with Adelaide alone and cut off from society truly fulfill her, or will she be forced to compromise on her happiness no matter her choice?

Tell us about this scene:

After weeks of convalescing, Jane is well enough to take a walk with Adelaide.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

The journey to living authentically as a queer person is rarely a straight line (no pun intended). In this scene, Jane has accepted her feelings for women and settled into a relationship with Adelaide — but the fears that caused her to suppress these emotions for most of her life haven't magically disappeared. I loved being able to explore that here, and I loved Adelaide's reaction to it — discussions of consent and boundaries will always have a place in romance novels, so I was happy to include that.

* * *

Excerpt:

Jane stepped outside and shivered.

“Oh, goodness. It’s gotten cold.”

She’d known, of course—she’d seen the occasional flurries of snow from the kitchen window, had watched the trees sway in the breeze from the otherwise serene garden. But it was easy to forget, in Adelaide’s home, curled up by the fire with Cabula in her lap. It was tucked away, hidden from the rest of the world.

Adelaide smiled and threaded their fingers together. “If it’s too cold, you can go back inside.”

“No! No.” She squeezed Adelaide’s hand, gentle. “I’d like to stay with you.”

Adelaide’s smile did much to warm her.

They walked through the forest. It wasn’t as bright as Adelaide’s garden, desaturated gray and brown trees that had already lost their leaves. The deep green of the pines just barely kept color in the space.

“What do you think of the forest, Jane?”

Jane bit back the polite comment that wanted to come out, meaningless and entirely dishonest. “It’s not as nice as your garden,” she admitted. “But I’m glad to be with you.”

Adelaide laughed. “It’s true, the forest isn’t home to many flowers. But it isn’t without its uses.” She knelt, tugging moss from the base of a tree trunk. “Take this, for example! Impossible to grow through magic means, but very important for spells.”

“What does it do?” Jane knelt beside her, a bit fascinated with the deft, sure movement of Adelaide’s hands.

“Healing, mostly, but I’ve used it for more complicated magic as well.”

“Healing,” Jane echoed, bemused. “Is it this that makes that potion taste so foul?”

Adelaide laughed. “No, dear Jane. That would be the cockroaches and the bear sh—”

“Please!” Jane clapped her hands over her ears, although she couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up in her own chest. “Please, I don’t want to know!”

Adelaide tugged at her hands. “I’m only kidding. I promise, your potion is 100 percent excrement free.”

“How soothing,” Jane said, her tone flat.

Adelaide leaned forward, a small smile on her face. “Would I dare to kiss you with it on your breath otherwise?”

Jane was aware of the rough bark at her back, the dry scent of the chill-soaked grass. But mostly she was aware of Adelaide. Her slim hand on Jane’s shoulder, her breath on Jane’s cheek as she leaned in. She smiled into the kiss, closing her eyes. The sunlight played patterns across her closed eyelids, but she didn’t think that was what made her dizzy.

Adelaide’s lips parted against hers, urging her to do the same. Jane gasped against her as she deepened the kiss, the cold air that filled her throat immediately soothed by Adelaide’s lips and tongue. Jane pressed her back against the tree, tilting her head back as Adelaide’s lips left hers to trail across her jaw, the fair line of her neck.

“Oh, Addy,” Jane gasped. One hand found the back of Adelaide’s head, fingers threading through her dark hair; the other curled into the earth, tugging out a fistful of grass. Heat pooled in her and for just a moment she wasn’t thinking of restraint or fear but only the warmth of Adelaide’s body echoed beneath her own skin.

She opened her eyes. Above her the sky was a gray so bright it was almost white, an endless expanse. Jane felt just as endless, a well of want so deep that she’d never hit the bottom. She felt endless and craving and—

And exposed.

Maybe it was the brightness of the sky or the sparseness of the trees, but all at once the fears that Adelaide’s lips had managed to chase away came roaring back with a vengeance. Her hands went limp. “Addy,” she said, forcing her voice to stay gentle, not wanting to betray her panic.

Something in her tone must have tipped Adelaide off, though, because she stopped immediately. She drew back, dark eyes studying Jane’s expression carefully. Slowly, she removed her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be!” Jane surged forward, clutching at Adelaide’s hands. “I—I enjoyed that, very much. I wanted to continue. It’s just… it’s foolish. I’m sorry.”

Adelaide pushed some of Jane’s hair away from her forehead. “Never apologize for that, Jane. Your boundaries are important.” She hesitated, an uncharacteristic carefulness about her words. “Do you want to tell me what happened? You are not obligated to give me an explanation, but I would like to avoid making you uncomfortable in the future.”

“It was nothing you did,” Jane said. “It’s just—I know that no one from town can see us here. But out in the open, I can’t help feeling exposed. So it just sort of…” She made a helpless gesture with her hands.

“I see,” Adelaide said. “That’s perfectly reasonable, Jane. Thank you for telling me.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“Of course not.” Adelaide helped her to her feet. “As beautiful as you are, and as much as I want you, you happen to have many other wonderful qualities. You’re wonderful company, for one.” Her eyes sparkled. “Are you alright in continuing to keep me company, or would you prefer to go back to the cabin?”

And just knowing that Adelaide cared about the answer meant more than Jane could say. She smiled.

“I’d like to stay with you.”

* * *

Spellbound ©2021 by Ophelia Silk

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Over the years, Ophelia Silk has lived and loved across the globe. She hopes her stories will whisk readers away to extraordinary places, with characters who always end up with a deserved happy-ever-after. There is absolutely no reason to believe she is secretly several authors in a sexy trench coat.

FINDING FAITH: KALILI'S TEMPTATION BOOK 1 BY AC ADAMS

Blurb:

Can an angel and a demon find love?

Kalili's a demon. In 10th century Rome, her job is simple: corrupt humans. It's also dead boring. Her latest assignment, a pimply teenager named Octavianus who might someday be pope, is a case in point. After all, there are only so many ways Tab A can go into Slot B. But she's content with her life, easing through her days, until she's told of a new angel in town.

One sent to kill her.

Faith has a simple job. Go to Earth, find a demon, slay her for demonic acts, and return. Of course, it's always the simplest things which are the trickiest. Finding Kalili is easy enough when you're given directions, but actually killing her proves more difficult. Not because Kalili resists, but because there's...something between them.

When they can no longer deny their attraction, they're left with the question: what next?

What they discover will shatter their perception of the world and may give them the chance at love they seek.

When an angel and a demon fall in love, there's Hell to pay...and Heaven's waiting its turn.

Tell us about this scene:

Kalili's preparing to leave the palace, fending off a would-be lover, in hopes of avoiding another run-in with the angel sent to kill her.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

In sums up the early relationship between Kalili and Faith. Kalili's trying to live and let live, but she's not going to be pushed around. Faith is inexperienced but determined to do her duty. And then there's the unlucky human stuck between them.

When I was writing this scene, I could visualize it: Kalili, packing, making sure she takes her collection of dildos. Dionisio, an older nobleman, begging for Kalili's attention. And then Faith, in full angelic glory, suddenly stunned by Kalili's method of defense.

It has Kalili's snark, Faith's determination, and a hint of the troubled relationship between the two. Neither of them know what to do about it or where to go. The old rules don't apply any longer, and the new ones? Nobody's told them what they are. But it hints at so much more to come.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Demon!” bellowed a familiar voice.

Dionisio, unsurprisingly, froze.

“Not now, Faith!” I yelled. At least he’d stopped kissing me.

“Demon Kalili, you do not order the Heavenly Host!”

I guessed where she was, based on her voice, and tossed the resin dildo at her. My aim was true because she squawked and the light abruptly faded. I heard it clatter to the floor and hoped it wasn’t damaged.

“Faith, fuck off.”

“What did you hit me with?” she demanded.

“A dildo. Did you hear me? Fuck off.”

Faith was doing a bunch of sputtering, so I returned my attention to Dionisio. He wasn’t much better off and stared wide-eyed at the angel.

“Dio?”

“Th-th-that’s an angel.”

I didn’t bother looking. “Big white wings? Glowing like the sun? Yeah. Angel. Focus, Dionisio.”

“Angel.”

“Fuck. Faith, you broke the human.”

I turned Dio away from her. Even if she wasn’t glowing, the sight of an angel wasn’t good for the human mind. They damaged it with the power of the divine they channeled, no matter how filtered it was by their own corporeal self.

I needed to do some emergency repairs.

“Dio, come on, sit down. Forget about what you think you’ve seen.”

“Angel.”

“Bless it all. Lilith, give me strength. Faith, I’m not done with you. Dio. Dio!”

I dragged his eyes to me.

“Come on, Dio.”

“Angel.”

“Yes, Dio, that’s an angel, but she’s not important.” I heard Faith’s exclamation as I led him into his bedchamber and put him on the bed. “Dio, you’re going to go to sleep now. When you wake, you’ll remember this as a dream, nothing more.”

“There’s an angel in my chambers.”

“Close your eyes. Good.” He resisted nothing, which would make this easier. 

Demons, like angels, can influence the minds of people. Angels were forbidden from doing so, and demons were discouraged from it. Not because it was wrong. Oh, Lucifer, no! It was a matter of return for the energy invested. The stronger the will, the stronger the idea we were trying to influence, the more effort it took. Usually, we got better results from persuasion and subtle touches.

But in this case, I could use Faith’s inadvertent damage to my advantage.

“It’s all a dream,” I repeated, placing my hands on his temples. I didn’t need to, but the touch enhanced the connection and eased my task. “You’ll wake in the morning, you’ll remember dreaming of an angel, and you’ll remember wishing me a fond goodbye. You’ll be sad, but you won’t try to find me or bring me back.”

I planted these thoughts deep into the mush to which the sight of Faith had reduced his brain, repeating my words several times. Finally convinced it would hold, I stood and wobbled. Direct control took it out of me. A moment to recover, and I stalked over to the still-blustering Faith.

“You!”

She cowered.

“Back, demon.” She lacked her usual fire.

I don’t know if it was the events of the past few minutes or the entire day, but I’d had enough. I reached down, grabbed her tunic, and pulled her up off her feet.

“You owe me power,” I said and kissed her.

Divine energy flooded into me. 

Demons and angels are the same at the core. We even look alike in our natural forms. Our wings aren’t black, and the horns that some demons sport are purely an affectation. That also means the spiritual energy, taaqat, we both use to survive is the same, no matter if the source is divine or demonic. What was more important at that moment? We can share this energy with others.

Sharing power back and forth was a way demons had sex. Angels too, I supposed. We’d push and pull from one into the other, and it was a better rush than, well. The only thing I could compare it to, in human terms, would be a woman having three skilled lovers attending her, top, bottom, and back, and all giving wholly of themselves.

But like sex, it could be forced.

There wasn’t the rush a predator got from forcing themselves on another. I’d felt enough humans as they “raped” me to know what they received, and it was nothing like this.

No, this was theft, out-and-out. A violation of her self? Yes. But less damaging, less permanent.

And I felt horrible about it.

I wanted it, but didn’t want it from her.

I needed to punish her intrusion, but didn’t want to hurt her.

We touched, and I craved more.

I was fucked up.

I was merciful. I only pulled enough from her to replenish my losses, no more. This took only an instant, but I lingered on the kiss for a long moment. I felt her surprise, the thrill of forbidden lust, the willingness to surrender to me. I looked into her coppery eyes and saw it all there. Worse, I saw it mirrored in my own, reflected in those shining orbs.

That’s when I dropped her.

She fell bonelessly to the floor and stayed there, though from energy loss or emotional exhaustion I didn’t know. I nearly checked, but stopped myself.

Instead, I gathered my possessions and fled the palace.

* * *

Finding Faith: Kalili's Temptation Book 1 ©2022 by AC Adams

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

AC Adams is a professor of English when she's not writing about snarky demons. She's thrilled and surprised by the reaction her fans have had to Kalili and Faith. She lives in Boston with her wife and a cranky cat.

Sign up here for AC Adams ’s author newsletter.

PARANORMAL ROMANCE

VALUE IN VISIONS BY ALI WILLIAMS

Blurb:

When librarian Rina Baroni’s brother is kidnapped by a warrior Goddess, all because she won’t use her new oracle abilities, she turns to the one woman she's been drawn to since magic returned to the hills of the South Downs: warrior-turned-bouncer Aerten.

The only surviving daughter of Boudica, Aerten has dealt with her fair share of turncoat Gods over the last millennia – not least Andraste, the Goddess who abandoned her family during the Roman occupation – but when the Goddess starts targeting the shy librarian that Aerten’s falling for, Aerten will sacrifice anything to keep Rina safe. Even if it means becoming the centre of Rina's magical visions.

Tell us about this scene:

Aerten has been stunned by the return of Andraste, an ancient warrior Goddess that she knew centuries ago, and so Rina takes her to one of her favourite places. It's a scene when the two of them feel at their most vulnerable, and they share that moment with each other.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

There's something about writing vulnerabilities and connections that I really love, but really the reason it's my favourite is because I wrote this scene after everything in my life changed. I wrote the connection that I longed for, in a place that is special to me, and it felt like I was pouring all my hopes and dreams in Rina and Aerten.

* * *

Excerpt:

The sky above them was a brilliant blue, but that wasn’t what made Aerten stop and stare. The field before them did that. 

“What do you think? “Rina’s voice was quiet, and the other woman’s face looked serene. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Aerten stepped out of the car, and onto the verge of the grass. “Can we…?”

Rina nodded. 

And then she just started walking. 

All about her were thousands and thousands of poppies, all laid out as far as the eye could see, blanketing the hillsides with perfectly bobbing red heads. As she walked, they danced about her knees, petals brushing her fingertips and she wanted to twirl on the spot and just revel in the sight. She was not usually a twirling person, before the Veil or after it, but this made her want to dance. 

When she stopped, Rina walked up behind her and slipped her hand into Aerten’s. “We’re lucky; they’ll only be here for a few more weeks.” She tugged at Aerten’s hand, and then pulled her down until they were both lying side by side, the red flowers kissing above their heads. 

They didn’t cosy up or cuddle, but just lay there, looking at the poppies, so red against the blue of the sky. The longing to twirl abated, replaced with something deeper, more solid. 

This was what she wanted. 

This was what had been missing. 

Not loudness and hot bodies clinging to each other, skin to skin, although she’d missed that too, but this feeling was what had been missing. 

She’d been so angry, so grief-stricken, for so long that Aerten had forgotten what peace felt like. And it felt like this: soft swish of the breeze through the flowers; a sky dotted with clouds that could never threaten rain; and this hand in hers, grounding her, keeping her here, keeping her present. 

She shifted, and Rina pulled her close, gently coaxing her until she was curled up on her side, her head resting on her serch’s arm. 

“I love the poppies.” Rina’s voice was almost a whisper. “When I get too overwhelmed, when life stresses me out just that little bit too much, somehow there’s always a poppy field for me to go lie in. As if the universe just knows that I need something to keep me going.” She took a shuddery breath, and Aerten realised that the woman who held her was trembling. “I’ve lain here in sunshine and in rain, but always on my own.”

Leaning up, she cupped Rina’s cheek with her hand, heart aching as the woman leant into her palm, wanting to envelope her with warmth and comfort. “I wish you hadn’t been on your own.”

Tears sprung to Rina’s eyes and she dashed them away fiercely. “If I hadn’t been on my own then, this wouldn’t mean so much.”

The truth in the brunette’s words hit Aerten hard. That was as much a truth for herself as it was for Rina. She truly felt peace here in this moment, because it had been so disturbed for so many centuries before. This moment was all the more precious for the contrasting vision it presented against her own history. 

“It is peaceful here.” She knew her words didn’t do justice to the enormity that she felt, but Rina nodded, and Aerten knew that she didn’t have to explain, just as Rina hadn’t needed to explain. They just understood each other.

* * *

Value in Visions ©2022 by Ali Williams

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Ali Williams' inner romance reader is never quite satisfied, which is why she oscillates between writing, editing and teaching romance. She can be found in the UK, either nerding out over local mythologies, reading tarot cards, or making homemade pasta, according to her Nanna’s recipes.

Sign up here for Ali Williams ’s author newsletter.

PACIFIC PACK BY HARLOWE FROST

Blurb:

Tamsin, daughter to a line of powerful alpha werewolves, left Santa Cruz when her parents died, leaving the pack to her uncle. Living as a lone wolf is hard, but she’s found ways to manage, even thrive. The death of her aunt pulls her back to Santa Cruz. Suspecting foul play by the alphas who’ve recently taken over her family’s pack, she’ll do anything to discover the truth. When the pack alpha offers the newbie werewolf’s help, is she willing to trust one of their lackeys?

Paige Glass works as a lifeguard at the beach keeping people safe. In her spare time she writes articles for the Daily Cruz. Her life was lonely, but it was hers. When her boss sent her out to get a story on a dead tourist in an alley, she didn’t expect to end up the dinner for a monster. After turning furry, barely believing werewolves are real, she’s asked to help a stranger prove the very people who attacked her are good people. How can she trust the monsters? How can she prove to Tamsin the people she doesn’t trust are good people?

Tell us about this scene:

Tamsin and Paige are getting to know each other as they investigate the death of Tamsin's aunt. They decide to spend time discussing the case and learning about each other over meals together. Since Paige can't cook, Tamsin guides her through the steps as she prepares them dinner.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It is the start of their admitting their attraction together and the tension is as delicious as the food being prepared.

* * *

Excerpt:

They’d stopped at a store on the way back to Elinore’s house and picked up some fresh fish. She knew spending time with Paige was a bad idea, but she loved the idea of connecting with someone…it had been too long.

Paige gazed at everything littering the counter. “How about, I sit and drink a beer and watch you cook. It’s really…um…something. And then we’ll have something edible.” A blush colored her cheeks as she spoke of Tasmin cooking.

Tamsin slid up to stand next to her. “Maybe if you tell me what you were really going to say, I’ll consider it.”

Paige slowly shook her head. “I fear the answer may incriminate me.”

“Ah, but you could also gain a meal cooked by me. She wrapped her arm around Paige’s waist and brought her mouth to the woman’s ear. “Your choice.”

Paige froze. Her breathing came out ragged. “Embarrassment versus eating well. Such a messed-up choice.” Paige leaned in to increase contact with Tamsin and then sighed. Tamsin understood that need to feel another wolf nearby. She wanted to imagine part of it was her, personally, but knew much of this was the wolf needing another wolf’s touch.

“You’ll eat well no matter what. I’ll make sure what you touch tastes good.” Paige let out a small whimper and Tamsin realized she was having fun. “You seem tense. Should I make you a margarita? It seems thematic, going with the tacos you’ll be making for us.”

She started to move away, but Paige shifted with her. “I’m still debating who I want to have cook. If it’s you, then I can enjoy watching.” Her body stiffened and she groaned. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud. You’re muddling my mind.”

“You like watching me cook? Is that the only thing you like watching?” 

Paige’s eyes widened, then she bit her lower lip. “I don’t know. We haven’t spent enough time together for me to know. What else can you do?”

Tamsin debated her next action. She hadn’t given in to touching anyone for this long in years. She’d given her aunt, and several months before, her uncle hugs, but she’d had her arm around Paige for a few minutes and it was degrading walls she’d had up for a reason. She wanted to pull the woman in for a kiss, but she knew that was a horrible idea. 

With an effort, she stepped away. “I’ll make us some margaritas. Now, as it seems watching someone cook is enjoyable, grab that cutting board, and start slicing the cabbage.” She found the tequila, frozen strawberries, and the blender; and began blending them something to drink.

After making the margaritas, Tamsin sat on a stool and directed Paige through the recipe she knew so well. She had to agree with the other woman—watching Paige work was a treat. She could get used to this.

“Do I need to bread the fish? Because I think that really pushes my comfort zone.” The counter was covered with bowls and plates of the different layers that would make up the taco. The last step would be frying the fish.

“You’re doing great; just get that skillet, add some olive oil, and once it’s warmed up, and gently place the fish in, without dropping…we don’t want a splash. A minute or two per side.”

“Are you sure that’s it?”

“Well, you’ll need to salt, pepper the fish, and lemon juice, but I thought I’d let you get the first steps done before piling on more.”

“Why am I doing this? What do I get for doing all of this?”

Tamsin sipped her drink. “Besides confidence in the kitchen, and my charming personality? You should’ve bargained before you were almost done. I guess we can discuss compensation after dinner. I want to taste the food before I agree to anything.”

Paige laughed. “That sounds fair.”

It only took a few minutes for her to finish cooking the fish and compiling a few tacos. They brought everything to the dining room. Tamsin filled their margarita glasses and sat across from Paige.

The first bite of taco tasted almost as good as the ones she made. Paige’s eyes widened as she swallowed her first taste, looking amazed. Tamsin chuckled. “Look at you, making food that’s not only edible, but yummy.”

Paige slowly shook her head. “I can’t believe I prepared this. Like, I did all the parts too. It’s…I just can’t believe it.”

“I’ll make a cook out of you yet.”

“In two weeks?”

“Maybe. Just think, I’ll have home-cooked meals every night while I’m here. I’m really not seeing a down side to this.”

“Do you think the emergency room will give you a frequent fliers punch card for all the times you end up there if I’m cooking for you every night?” 

Tamsin leaned back, crossing her hands behind her head. “I don’t know; it sounds like it may be worth it to me. Watching you flow around the kitchen, me getting to direct your movements, and a meal in the end. We could come up with meal ideas together. Maybe find some tricky French meals with complicated preparation steps.” She smiled wickedly. 

Paige glared. “You’re playing with me, aren’t you? How about I sit and get drunk each night and watch you cook. I like this plan much better. And when you end up going back to Chicago, I’ll pine away, missing your cooking.”

Tamsin leaned forward and rubbed her eyes. “Okay, jokes aside, have we just agreed to have dinner together every night while I’m here?”

Paige gazed down at her plate and shrugged, then looked into Tamsin’s eyes. “If you wouldn’t mind. I know you have things to do, but, I don’t know, I feel drawn to you. Is it the wolf thing? Part of me wants to just blame it on that, but I know it’s more than that. I’ve enjoyed our banter, along with the meals. And…” She blushed. “You’re beautiful. I know there’s a limit on our time together, but I’d like to see what happens in that time.” She ducked her head as if unsure of what Tamsin’s reaction would be.

Tamsin knew the right thing to say was ‘no.’ As werewolves, they could easily get addicted to being in close contact, but she missed having a pack and people around her. What Paige asked for was something she craved more than she wanted to admit to anyone, especially herself. Someone around, small touches, talking about the day, not having to lie about who she was. She should say ‘no.’ It would be the smart thing to do. But there was something about Paige… She smiled and said, “I’d like that, too.”

They cleaned up the dinner mess together, then sat in the living room on the couch, legs touching. Paige leaned back. “So, big plans for tomorrow? Going to throw me to other wolves again?”

Tamsin let her head fall back, full and content. “I think the police will let me in to see my aunt’s body. If not too many people have touched it, I may be able to pick up a scent. I need to find her address book or phone. Her old coven’s contact information should be in there. That witch I met today all but confessed, but I’m emotional. I’d like to get Cinthia’s take, and she’s the only one left I know…but I don’t have her number or know where she lives. Then, in the afternoon, I have an appointment to meet with the lawyer.”

Paige let her head roll to face Tamsin. She looked half asleep. “Who’s your contact with the police?”

“An Officer Summers. He said he was busy until tomorrow morning.”

Paige sat up straight. “Oh, he’s great. He’s always my contact when I’m writing a story. I could go down with you if you want. He may be more open since he knows me. We aren’t quite friends, more like acquaintances.”

Tamsin rocked her head back and forth, thinking. “You need to get down there anyway for your article. This way we can both get the information, and I can see you in action.” She waggled one eyebrow.

Paige blushed but nodded. “Yeah, I do need to talk to him and get information for my article. If I could get the inside scoop that only the family receives, that would be even better.”

Tamsin sighed. “Okay, but I get to edit how much goes out to the public.”

“Absolutely, it’s a date.” A blush flashed onto Paige’s face. “Um, or, well, you know what I mean. As for finding your aunt’s stuff, or packing…if you need help, just ask. I’m going to go back to work lifeguarding, but I have lots of downtime too. Just let me know how I can help.”

After deciding to meet at eight so they could get breakfast at a coffee shop near the station, Tamsin walked Paige to the door. Before she left, Tamsin gave in to her desire and leaned down to kiss the other wolf. It was a quick kiss, but she felt the zing to her toes. 

* * *

Pacific Pack ©2023 by Harlowe Frost

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Harlowe Frost has always loved reading but found the lack of LGBTQ+ representation frustrating. She started out writing in a variety of styles but found sapphic paranormal fantasy struck a chord.

Sign up here for Harlowe Frost ’s author newsletter.

DARK JUSTICE - BOOK #1 - GOD'S CANYON BY ERIN WADE

Blurb:

Award-winning producer Courtney Southerland turned down lucrative career opportunities to learn the truth about the legend of Palo Duro Canyon. Determined to track the famous Black Panther and the girl that had been seen with it, Court devoted two years of her life living in caves and tents as she tracked the pair through the second largest canyon in the United States. She was about to relegate the panther’s legend to the category of Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster when the girl appeared from nowhere to save her life.

Tell us about this scene:

Dark Justice is the story of a woman documentary producer who searches for a legendary black panther and young girl occassionally seen roaming Palo Duro Canyon, the second largest canyon in the United States. Are the girl and panther legends or real? This is their story.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Court Southerland is an internationally known film documentary maker. She is fascinated with the unknown and travels the world producing documentaries about legends and rare sightings. As a teenager she saw the girl that ran with a black panther in the second largest canyon in the U.S. This is the the first chapter of the book and it explains the existence of the girl and panther.

* * *

Excerpt:

The huge black cat flattened against the tree limb and watched as the thugs ran into the campsite killing the weekend campers. They looted and ravaged the two couples who were on an outing to get in touch with nature.

A pregnant woman fought the hardest trying to save her unborn child but, in the end, she was left bleeding beside the body of her dead husband as the looters rode out of camp.

Kinga had seen the pillagers before. They preyed on law abiding citizens and people vacationing in the canyons. Palo Duro Canyon had been Kinga’s home for as long as she could remember. Always on the move, the big cat roamed the second-largest canyon in the United States at will, careful to avoid human encounters.

Considered a mythical legend in the Texas Panhandle, Kinga was a black jaguar, but the stories told about her always described her as a panther. Capable of running thirty-five miles an hour she roamed the one-hundred-twenty-mile-long gash in the Texas landscape.

A nocturnal creature, the black jaguar had a keen sense of smell and excellent eyesight. Right now, Kinga was listening to a soft mewing sound. It seemed to come from the woman. She knew the woman was dead because one of the looters had slashed open her stomach.

Kinga silently dropped from her perch on the tree limb, her ears turned to magnify the sound. Stealthily, she approached the woman. The smell of blood made her lick her lips, running her tongue over sharp canines. She was hungry but preferred a fresh rabbit to a human. 

She slinked to the woman and watched her body. She inched closer as the sound came again. Suddenly, a tiny hand reached toward the night sky and a wail that rivaled Kinga’s own broke the silence. Flattened against the ground Kinga watched as a tiny foot joined the hand in its macabre stirring of the night winds.

Kinga inched toward the sound and stood to her full height. She found herself standing above a tiny human that was shrilly declaring its hunger. The pitiful thing wouldn’t make a decent meal. She backed away from the baby, but something drew her back to it. She picked it up, careful not to puncture it with her teeth. The puny thing didn’t weigh as much as a newborn kitten.

Kinga padded from the massacre scene wondering what to do with the tiny creature. She carried it to one of her many lairs that dotted the canyon and placed it on the animal skins she had left from various meals.

Leaving the whimpering baby, Kinga prowled the canyon floor searching for a lactating deer or goat. The baby needed milk if it were to survive. Sniffing the night winds, she located a doe and her fawn bedded down in a nearby thicket. She knew she couldn’t get the doe to the baby, so she swiftly returned to the newborn and carried it to the doe. 

Approaching on the downwind side of the doe, Kinga was standing over the mother before the deer realized she was in danger. Placing a powerful paw on the doe, Kinga prevented her from standing. She dropped the baby against the doe’s teats and nudged the infant until it found a nipple to suck. Terrified the doe remained motionless as her own fawn snuggled into the human and both began to nurse.

Kinga, the doe, fawn, and baby formed an unlikely family. On more than one occasion the powerful panther saved the doe and fawn from being eaten by predators and the doe accepted the tiny human as her own.

##

Kinga sunned herself on the flat rock overlooking the valley. Her green eyes never left the naked child chasing the buck that she thought of as her brother. To Kinga’s delight the girl’s laughter echoed through the canyon as Anton carefully jabbed at her with his antlers. She caught his rack, and they began the daily wrestling match that the big buck always won. Kinga knew how the game would end. The girl would leap onto the flat rock, Anton would move close to it so she could jump onto his back, and they would race around the canyon until both were exhausted.

Just as Kinga had been given her name many years ago, the wild things in the canyon had named the human child. She was known as Sage. Kinga had no idea how her name had evolved only that it easily rolled off the tongue. Sage, it almost tickled her mouth when she growled it.

Knowing Sage was safe with Anton, Kinga slipped from her perch and padded across the canyon to the water hole where she could catch an unsuspecting waterfowl or rabbit for their supper.

Kinga had been surprised that the human could use its thoughts to communicate with her and other animals. Of course, all animals had the ability to do that, and Kinga had met a few humans who had the capacity but never quite achieved the ability. 

The big cat reasoned that the telepathy was a result of having an open mind and it came naturally to the girl. Kinga drank from the small stream that gave life to the canyon and spotted a large crappie hiding under a rocky outcrop of the stream’s bank. She would surprise Sage with fish for their evening meal.

* * *

Dark Justice - Book #1 - God's Canyon ©2021 by Erin Wade

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* * *

About the Author:

Texas native Erin Wade released her first lesbian novel in January 2017. "Too Strong to Die" jumped to number one and continues to show up in the top fifty bestsellers list today. A prolific writer Erin has released twenty-six #1 bestselling Lesbian novels and audios over the past six years.

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THE WARRIOR WITHIN BY BROOKE CAMPBELL

Blurb:

The fallout from a life-changing diagnosis left Libby with only her best friend, her cat, and a suitcase of insecurities. On a rare night out she meets Jo, the hottest butch she's ever seen. Despite Jo's actions, Libby believes that her intense attraction couldn't be reciprocated. To her astonishment, filthy-rich Jo pursues her. For a while, everything feels wonderful as new love and hot passion bloom. Libby denies her own instincts even as danger from Jo's world threatens. That is, until a freak accident forces Jo into a shocking revelation. Reeling with disillusionment and betrayal, Libby must decide if she can trust the half-vampire again. If she can take another chance on love. And despite Jo's vow to protect her, Libby will need to reach deep inside to find her own strength if she is to survive.

Tell us about this scene:

Libby needs a dress for her first date with Jo. The day before, her best friend takes her shopping.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

We’ve all had a first date at some point or another. It’s a rare person who doesn’t feel those excited butterflies leading up to the date. And we all want to look our best, to put our best foot forward, so to speak. First impressions are lasting, after all.

I’ve wanted to tell Libby and Jo’s love story for years. Two hopelessly imperfect people finding love and healing in one another appeals to me on many levels. This scene is one of my favorites because it stokes the smoldering of potential heat, captures the innocence of unsuspecting prey, and evokes the thrill of burgeoning love.

Heat. Prey. Love.

* * *

Excerpt:

My best friend Emma keeps saying we will know the dress when we see it. We’ve been to two large thrift stores with no luck. Emma insists our luck will change and the perfect dress is here waiting for me. However, I don’t have my hopes up. The woman behind the counter informs us they close in 15 minutes, so I feel rushed before I’ve even started. I’m coming up empty when I hear a familiar squeal. I hurry over to Emma who’s holding the most beautiful little black dress I’ve ever seen. My heart skips a beat. Emma nods. I nod. She squeals again. I grab the dress and rush to the dressing room. I call for Emma and her eyes light up. She shrieks and we both start jumping up and down like teenagers. 

I can’t believe how I look. It fits so perfectly, like it was made just for me. An artfully placed slit allows for a flash of thigh when I move just so. It is modestly sexy and very feminine and I am thrilled.

When I get home, I hang the dress on the back of my closet door. After I climb between the sheets, I lay there, admiring my dress and imagining what Jo will say when she sees me wearing it tomorrow.

Closing my eyes, I see Jo as she was today. I imagine running my hands through her short hair. I wonder what her firm lips would feel like on mine, on my neck, on my...anything. Finally, I have to force myself to think of mundane things so I can sleep.

At some point in the night it started raining. Opening the blinds reveals streaked windows and gray skies. Not exactly the kind of weather I want for my date, but that is hours away. I’m sure it won’t rain all day, but even if it does, I won’t let that dampen my good feelings.

I have a date with Jo!

Work keeps me occupied, though not enough. I can’t stop thinking about her. About what might happen tonight. Doubts creep in. I try not to have expectations that would leave me disappointed. Jo could be boring or be unforgivably rude to the waiter. She might not like me after she knows me better. Maybe I will embarrass her. This line of thinking just makes me more anxious.

By the time I leave work, the rain has stopped, and I’m excited to get home and start getting ready. On the muggy drive, I mentally go through what I would like to do before Jo arrives. I’m overdue for some serious personal grooming.

I decide on my grandmother’s pearls. I spend some time in front of the mirror playing with different hairstyles. In the shower, I shave myself silky smooth. Every part of me I can reach gets lavender-scented lotion rubbed in. I can definitely use the calming properties of the scent. My stomach is unsettled, and I wonder if I’ll even be able to eat. I haven’t felt this nervous since my very first date. Telling myself I am being silly doesn’t make much difference.

Since I don’t have to pull the dress over my head, I get my hair and makeup done first. Just in case, I secure the bun with about 20 thousand bobby pins. Applying black eyeliner, my hand shakes and it smears. Cursing under my breath, I look myself in the eyes. “If she doesn’t like you, that is her loss. You are pretty and kind and loved and lovable.” Despite feeling a little silly, the pep talk helps, and my hands are steadier as I fix the damage under my eye and brush on multiple coats of mascara.

I put on my sexiest underwear and a silky robe. Excitement bubbling, I can’t help preening. I make myself laugh, striking poses and doing a catwalk across my room to the mirror. I’ve got an 80s mix streaming, and I dance around my room and belt out the lyrics to Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me”. I’m feeling desirable. It’s been too long since I felt this. I could get used to it.

Emma texts me, wishing me luck. All that’s left to do is slip on the dress and shoes. Carefully, I step into the lace covered fabric, then stand in front of the mirror. A smile spreads across my face. “It’s been a long time. Welcome back.”

At 5:55 I step into my shoes. I’m just turning off Madonna when there are two raps on my door. I make myself take a deep inhale through my nose to dispel the butterflies before I open it.

But then I suck it right back in.

A sexy half-smile playing across her mouth, Jo stands on my doorstep in a thin charcoal suit made of some sumptuous material and a pale blue collarless button-up silk shirt.

The top two buttons are undone, and now I am, too.

* * *

The Warrior Within ©2021 by Brooke Campbell

Published by Next Chapter

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About the Author:

Brooke’s paranormal romances are as much about flawed characters finding lasting love as they are about exploring what strength means. Brooke and her wife live with their two somewhat-benevolent feline overlords. When she isn’t working her day job to feed the cats, or writing, baking is Brooke’s bliss.

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HER WOLF IN THE WILD BY RIEN GRAY

Blurb:

The Hounds of God MC live outside the law and protect their own. They only have three rules:

(1) look out for each other

(2) obey the club president

(3) never show a human your werewolf form.

Christiana Arjean needs to get out. She tried to fix her relationship, but making a break for it is her only shot. She almost doesn’t make it, until a butch biker with a shock of white hair tosses Christiana on the back of her bike. Micah is as mysterious as she is attractive, and Christiana wants to know what’s under that tough exterior.

Micah Nubilo knows a little bit about keeping secrets. Rescuing Christiana is a bad idea, and letting her hang around is even worse. But there’s something calling to Micah: an impossible bond no werewolf should ever feel for a human, even one as beautiful as Christiana.

Their growing intimacy is threatened when they realize their pasts are connected in ways they never could have imagined. Christiana and Micah must fight against threats both outside the pack and inside themselves for a chance at putting it all behind them and finding a way forward—together.

Tell us about this scene:

Christiana - the MC - is going to wash up with Micah, the butch werewolf biker she's been nursing a crush on, after Micah rescued her from an abusive ex.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

When I was growing up, I struggled to find butch representation in the media I came across, and what existed tended to be hostile, stereotypical, or end badly for the character in question. I picked this scene because I think it highlights and honors the appeal of a butch partner, and hey, she's a hot werewolf to boot.

Her Wolf in the Wild is a love letter to my teenage self in many ways, but was also written out of respect for queer biker and leather culture, a community of survival and solidarity which is often overlooked for the Sons of Anarchy stereotype of violent cishet white men.

Micah is written as an alpha who sees her leadership as duty of care rather than brutal domination, and in this scene, she's allowed to be vulnerable with the woman she's interested in rather than having to maintain her mantle of stoicism. I hope it appeals to readers for the same reasons.

* * *

Excerpt:

“If you don’t believe us about Micah, go ahead and see.” Alejandra points back through the woods. “She’ll be at the lake for a while.” 

“Isn’t she washing up?” I ask. 

Naked. She would be at the lake naked. 

“Everyone sees everyone in the buff at some point around here,” Talisa says. “Especially in summer. It’s too hot to sleep wearing anything, especially for us.” 

“Communal nudity is a lot more common with werewolves than it is for humans,” Royal warns, giving me a small smile. “But Talisa’s right. It’s really no big deal.” 

Alejandra takes a hard sniff of the air. “And no offense, mija, but you smell like stale beer and co-eds.” 

Ugh, gross. “Have any extra soap?” 

Royal provides, although the towel they give me is definitely a couple of old T-shirts that have been sewn together with care. I’m politely shooed away in the direction of the lake, and any worry of getting lost vanishes when I catch sight of the water. 

Micah. 

She’s facing the moon, calloused hands working soap through the pale flare of her hair. The tattoo on the side of Micah’s neck is in full view, cup-like flowers etched in vibrant purple ink, with a spray of sharp green leaves nesting underneath. Muscle stretches taut in each shoulder, carved deep into her back, tapering to the solid presence of her hips where Micah’s body ends and the water begins. At this hour, it’s too dark for me to see through the veil of the lake, but that’s for the best—I don’t want to be caught leering. 

Micah dunks her head in the water and emerges a long breath later, shaking her head to dry off the excess. The move is so wolf-like that I almost laugh, but the sound freezes on my lips when she turns around to face me. 

Clear rivulets drip down the sharp line of her jaw, past the tattooed column of her throat. One particularly bold drop slips past the frame of Micah’s collarbones and between her breasts, tracing the sculpted lines of her stomach like a caress. There’s a narrow line of white hair there too, spreading out like an arrow the lower it goes. 

She’s so gorgeous I can’t even come up with an excuse for staring at her. 

“Did they send you out here to clean up too?” Micah asks. 

No hint of shame or hesitation shows on her face. Royal must have been telling the truth; I’m the only one who’s flustered here. Which, for the record, is totally and utterly unfair. 

“I can’t blame them,” I mumble, summoning every ounce of restraint I have to keep my eyes above her shoulders. “The bar doesn’t smell great at the end of the day to me, and my nose isn’t anything like yours.” 

“Get in the water.” She invites me with a come-hither gesture. “The lake feels perfect at this hour, once the sun goes down.” 

A blush settles in my face as I strip, but after gawking at Micah, it feels silly to ask her to look away. After taking the band out of my ponytail and leaving my clothes in a pile next to hers, I dip a foot into the water. It’s cool but not cold, and enough heat lingers in the park tonight that the contrast is an immediate relief. The bottom of the lake is nothing but smooth stones and fine sand, and the deeper in I go, the lighter I feel. 

“This is selling me on living in the forest,” I say, needing to dispel the silence between us. Something about the quiet is too intimate, urging my heart to beat faster. “If you get to do stuff like this every day.” 

“It’s nice,” Micah murmurs. “Do you want me to get out? I don’t want to…” 

I’m not sure what stops her short, but I lose my words too under the intensity of her stare. Even without the wolfish glint in Micah’s eyes, her gaze traps me in place like amber, and I’m far too aware of every inch of space between us. Too aware of how a single step could close the gap, and the water lapping at my back as if urging me forward. 

“What don’t you want?” I whisper. 

Her jaw tightens, muscle working there like a diamond under pressure. “I would be lying. And I don’t want to lie to you.” 

That final step brings me close as can be, although I have to tilt my head up to meet her eyes again. My fingers flex under the water, fighting the urge to reach out and trace Micah’s skin, to feel the heat and strength she radiates in waves. Her nostrils flare, eyes averting, and every tendon in her neck goes tight. She’s fighting too, struggling against something I can’t see, but I don’t want her to hurt, not when I’m so close. 

“Micah.” I want her. I want this. “It’s okay.” 

When she looks at me again, those bright eyes fall to my mouth, desire written all over her face. It’s raw, unfiltered, and completely intoxicating. 

I press up onto my toes without thinking, pressing my lips to hers in a firm kiss. Her mouth is warm and welcoming, exactly what I need. I have to grasp at Micah’s shoulders to keep me steady, but the second I touch her, a wall shatters between us. A growl of need escapes between her teeth as she returns the kiss, too eager to resist. 

Something in the world shifts, making my heart ache. Nothing has ever felt so right, not like this. 

* * *

Her Wolf in the Wild ©2021 by Rien Gray

Published by Carina Press

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About the Author:

Rien Gray is a queer, nonbinary author of F/F and F/NB romance. When not writing, they powerlift, play too many video games, and drink a lot of coffee. They live in Chicago.

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FAIRY TALE ROMANCE

SNOW WHITE AND HER QUEEN BY ANNA FERRARA

Blurb:

Before there was Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, there was another story some preferred not to tell.

“You, my Queen, are fairest of all,” the Princess had said, unravelling a nightmare of obsession and forbidden desire.

This intimate lesbian retelling of the popular Grimms’ fairy tale will change your understanding of the wicked Queen’s infamous jealousy forever.

Tell us about this scene:

Snow White goes looking for the Queen after an unexpected encounter way past midnight.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I enjoy the “feels” this scene emits.

* * *

Excerpt:

Once back in her chambers, Katherine threw herself against the closed door, clutched her chest and took many deep breaths.

Why in the world was she this nervous? This never happened before. Not to Katherine the Queen. She was the one who always held her ground no matter what any opponent threw at her. She never quivered. Especially not when faced with a woman that much younger, with less power than she had. So why on earth was she shaking now? 

She should have listened to herself and stayed away. What in the world was she thinking? The enemy had seen her at her weakest and clearly knew all the right words to say. Who knew how she would use all that against Katherine? Tell the King? Spread ugly rumours about her? Katherine wished she never mentioned the kiss. A trap, she knew that now. 

Her deep breaths did not work. Her skin still tingled and her heart still raced. Katherine paced her chamber until she ended up at the window. Against her will, she put her nose to it. 

From where she stood, only the roof of the East Tower could be seen. The rest of it was shrouded from view by the body of the castle.

But she already knew that, didn’t she? She tried all morning to see and failed. Katherine dropped her shoulders and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. Something was wrong.

The enemy up on the tree had looked incredibly stunning with the wind in her hair. There was just something about her that made Katherine want to keep looking and looking. And looking.

Stop it, Katherine! It’s another trap! Katherine pulled away from the window and went to pour herself a tall drink which she downed in one gulp. Tomorrow, she would send guards to stand at the servants’ entrances to the West Wing. That should keep her safe, for a while.

A knock on the door made her jump. The King!

Katherine cursed under her breath and dashed towards one of the lounge chairs in the sitting chamber, making sure her hair was in place as she went. She was not in the mood for a visit from him right now but how do you say such a thing to the King and get to keep your head? Instead, she lay down on her side with her head propped up by her arm and made her face seductive. 

Another knock.

“Come in,” Katherine said and thought quickly about how to inform him of that inconvenient time of the month in a way that would be least likely to infuriate him. 

The tall door opened and in walked not the King but his daughter with her wild long hair cascading recklessly down one side. “I don’t mean to disturb,” she said. “But can we talk for a minute?”

Katherine was disturbed all the same. Her heart jumped right back into race mode at the sight of that very woman and she found herself in that giddy mix of wanting and resistance all over again. It took everything she had to keep a straight face and say in a steady, disinterested voice, “What is it you want?”

“To say a few words. We kind of ended oddly just now and I just want to set things proper.”

Katherine sat up right away. “Make it quick.”

The young woman moved towards the Queen. “I won’t touch your lips again, I promise. And I know you find me a threat. Understandably, considering what I did to you when we first met. But that was many years ago and I’ve grown up a lot since.”

Without letting expression show on her face, Katherine took in the young woman’s perfect features once again and that slender body. Then, she noticed the hand the woman held behind her back. 

At the beat of a heart, all her apprehensions jumped right back into awareness. What had felt like nervous excitement morphed into nervous fear in that instant. Could there be a dagger in that fair hand? 

“The King and I don’t speak, in case you’re worried about that. Not because of you, so don’t worry about that either.”

The woman was getting closer with every step yet her hand never once left her back. 

“I know it’s lonely at the top. Especially since you don’t talk to servants or courtiers and so on.” 

Katherine felt herself backing away ever so slightly for that woman was almost right in front of her now. 

“But I think you should know that if you ever need a listening ear, I’m here for you. So I brought you something.” The woman stopped right in front of her and pulled that hand out from behind her back.

Katherine threw her arms up in defence at once. But nothing hit her.

Instead, what the hand held out made her heart race for an entirely different reason.

Katherine gaped at the blood red apple the young woman presented to her. 

“Don’t worry,” the woman said quickly. “It’s just a gift. To remind you of all the wonders in the world worth staying alive for.”

Katherine could only stare.

“Bet you’ve never tasted an uncooked apple, have you?”

The woman was both wrong and right. Katherine remembered the taste she encountered when those lips in front of her met hers and presumed it was what uncooked apples tasted like. The memory made her mouth water and she began to feel like she might just pass out from the frantic pounding of her heart.

So Katherine did the only thing she could in that moment. She folded her arms and looked away. 

The woman nodded and placed the apple on the table next to her. “You know where I live. Know that you’re welcome anytime.” 

* * *

Snow White and Her Queen ©2017 by Anna Ferrara

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* * *

About the Author:

Anna Ferrara is a lesfic author serving femme/femme chemical energies wrapped in horror, mystery and suspense. She spends way too much time playing with her imagination and also loves Halloween.

PRIDE, PAIN & PETTICOATS (VOLUME 1) BY ABIGAIL S. TRUSITY

Blurb:

Tarence Moxley, third son to a mere viscount, and current personal guard to Prince Brendan of the Kingdom of Antiga, thought he'd seen it all. From the cliffs and dunes of the southern Federation of Cassia, to the rich history and stunning sights of the cosmopolitan Republic of Farin, and everywhere between.

But when a traitorous noble's machinations lead directly into an attempt on the prince's life, everything changed, and what Tarence thought he knew of himself shattered in an instant.

With a reflection that looked more like her mother's daughter than she ever did before, and friends new and old, /Taryn/ Moxley must face her pride, come to terms with her pain, and break down the façade she'd built for herself, in petticoats!

A trans affirmation story, first of a series! Follow along with Taryn as she becomes herself, truly, unabashedly, her!

Tell us about this scene:

Therese and Taryn, childhood friends separated by youthful indiscretion, meet again at an etiquette academy nine years later. Therese, a butch lesbian, and Taryn, the protagonist, who was turned into a woman by magic and grapples with her identity even now, roughhouse like they used to as teens, only it... holds new meaning for them, now.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Inspired by real events in my own life, where I, a trans lesbian, seemed to only date lesbians before knowing my own identity. Unfortunately, it took me until 29 to figure it out, but the women I dated and slept with, only for them to later come out as lesbians, found me incredibly confusing to be with. Then when I finally grappled onto my trans girl identity, they both basically said "Oh, NOW it makes sense!" Apparently them having been attracted to me on some level despite only being attracted to women delayed their own coming out a while. I wanted to write something like that, good friends, lovers, separated by time and now together again, both more comfortable for the journey they took to get there.

Between Therese still treating Taryn as she would a boy, and Taryn's clear indications that she had irrevocably changed, and more than physically, absent all that crippling need to *pretend* to be a boy anymore, it makes for a wonderful start to what is planned to be a series-long romance between the two. The first volume ends on a detailed, spicy sapphic note.

It also speaks to their shared history and the longing they had for each other even then. Taryn's mother passed away and she ran off to join the army, rather than face her brothers and father demanding that she act the part of a son any longer, but she didn't tell Therese, who had grown so fond of her that they in fact were each others' first sexual experience. The sudden schism there caused them both pain, and the wound, scarred closed over the years, has a chance to properly heal.

Like Taryn, the only woman I could never love was myself, and it made for a lonely existence until I came out. And with Therese's help, Taryn slowly begins to break out of that eggshell, too. In addition, the other girls are accepting of Taryn, as well, which mirrors the great, vast majority of women I know as friends and acquaintances. It's easy sometimes to feel predatory as a lesbian and as a trans woman, and it means so much to me that many cis women treat me like any other woman much of the time. I needed to write that here. :)

Excerpt:

“Jess took care of Penelope, I took care of Erica. I figured it was the least I could do. We heard you last night, you know? Us girls have to stick together.” Therese muttered.

Taryn blushed and nodded. “Thank you… I mean it. I don’t think I’ve been properly happy since I… changed. Um… have you been looking at my chest the entire time? They can’t possibly be the biggest—”

“They definitely are. Jessamine’s, mine, Erica’s, Penelope’s, yours. In that order… They are nearly grapefruits.”

Therese grinned and took a seat next to Taryn, and Taryn pulled up her knees to her chest shyly.

“They cannot be that large! Goodness,” Taryn’s face tinged pink, though that might’ve been partly Erica’s rouge, “I—you sure know how to make a girl blush.”

“Did you just call yourself a girl?” Therese asked, scooting a little closer. From here, Therese seemed somewhat… intimidatingly dashing. Taryn’s thoughts jumped to Penelope’s little story in the bath, and her face reddened further.

“Um.” Did I? “Yeah, I guess for now, I am one. As you can plainly see…” Taryn whispered. “I can’t repay you right now, but thank you for… getting me to join them.”

“Oh, I think you can repay me plenty. After all, you did offer to sleep with me tonight.” Taryn giggled softly as if that were a joke, but it hitched in shock as Therese brushed her bangs out of her own eyes and leaned in close.

“W-what are…” Taryn started to ask, but Therese unexpectedly only retrieved a pillow. Taryn nervously averted her eyes. “Oh, wow, I thought you were about to—”

“What, kiss you? Please… If I was gonna, I’d do it when you were more comfortable. You’ve been on edge the entire day. But maybe if you asked me for it nicely, and maybe did a little curtsy?” Therese cackled as she cracked her book open to read alongside Taryn, leaning up on the pillow she’d absconded with.

“Ha ha, very funny, Therese… I thought maybe you wanted my first time or something. I mean, you and Jessamine have that bet… Or does this satisfy it? If you’re gonna sleep with me, it… doesn’t have to be more than that.”

“You sound like you want it to be more than that, but you’re still not asking for it.” Therese said, nudging Taryn with her shoulder.

“Look, I like women, and I like you, but I’m not sliding into your room as the sun sets to make my moves… I still have to see you again tomorrow!” A wry chuckle escaped Therese’s lips, but her eyes lingered overlong before she cast them askew.

“Oh, you prefer to bed a woman and leave? How cordial.”

“Don’t blame me for that! You’re the one who did it to me first.” Therese replied in a frustrated snark, causing Taryn to stiffen and release a short sigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what you were going through. Still don’t.”

“No, you’re right. I left a week later, didn’t I?” Taryn asked, knowing the answer.

“You didn’t even say goodbye. We searched for weeks.”

“I should be the sorry one. But I am gladdened to spend more time with you.” She reached up to shake Therese’s shoulder consolingly, biting her lip to choke back her reasoning. Once, when they were teenagers, they laid with one another in the forests, but Taryn ran from home just a week later, before they had the chance to speak again.

“Pfft. Now who’s the one making girls blush?” Therese playfully snapped back, nudging again with that same shoulder. “Ugh. Must these books be so verbose? You know I have never kept to my studies well.”

“It could be worse, some of the books Le Guin keeps in her classroom are math ones.”

“Don’t even joke like that. I can count, that’s good enough, isn’t it?”

“Sure, if you want to get scammed. Stop paying attention for one moment and next thing you know? Someone’s up and given you your change in iron instead of bronze!”

“They don’t even look the same, Taryn!”

“No, but when was the last time you bothered counting?” Taryn needled, jabbing a finger into Therese’s side. “Now think if someone does that with silver and gold crowns! You’ll be penniless in a year!”

Therese snorted disapprovingly. “Right, like I’m dealing in gold crowns, day to day! If someone nicks from me, I’ll just run ‘em through.”

“You can’t solve all your problems through violence, Therese.”

“Oh, yeah,” Therese snapped her book shut and pushed herself to her knees on the bed, grinning smarmily, “who’s gonna stop me?”

Taryn squared up in the same way, but Therese was always better at this sort of roughhousing. When they were children, they’d do this all the time with the other kids, trying to push each other over, hand in hand. It ended predictably, as it always had, only…

Taryn’s head hit the pillow, her fingers entwined with Therese’s, as the stronger woman took her victory. In that compromising position, with Taryn on her back and Therese looming above her, a recollection stirred. It mirrored an old, shared memory of their youth, and when Taryn turned her head to expel a nervously ragged sigh, Therese sat upright once again.

Pulling away from each other, both red as tomatoes, they swung their feet to opposite sides of the bed before taking a moment to clean their faces and put their hair up. They set the books aside and wordlessly enjoyed their closeness, soon settling in for the night beneath the same blanket, like they used to, so long ago, when it was an innocent pair of friends doing it.

Despite any claim to the contrary, they both knew it wasn’t, anymore.

Somehow, with Therese’s arms wrapped around her, Taryn felt that she’d be alright, though the way Therese cradled her tight only served to remind her of her past in a decidedly uncomfortable way. 

Dwelling on the unwanted memories of her youth, Taryn cursed herself for not even trying to resist her charms.

* * *

Pride, Pain & Petticoats (Volume 1) ©2022 by Abigail S. Trusity

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* * *

About the Author:

Trans lesbian writing all kinds of affirming and spicy stories! From VRMMO shenanigans, to lesbian bounty hunters in space, and historical fantasies to action-packed new adult novels, Abby Trusity aims to write in every genre that suits her!

SCIENCE FICTION ROMANCE

FIVE KISSES AT MIDNIGHT: A NEW YEAR'S EVE ROMANCE BY ABBY CROFTON

Blurb:

A New Year's Eve sapphic romance novella with a sci-fi twist!

Bell Sharpe is living her dream life in Hawaii. Until she gets stuck in a time loop. At midnight she relives New Year’s Eve over and over again, dealing with work and personal disasters that she can't stop no matter how hard she tries.

The only person who believes Bell is stuck in time is professional surfer Lola Winston-Jones. With a sci-fi book in one hand and a cocktail in the other Lola helps Bell in every loop as they try to figure out how Bell can escape her own personal Groundhog Day.

As she gets to know Lola more, Bell is determined to break the loop and find out what her future may hold, and if Lola and her flirty smile can be a part of it.

Tell us about this scene:

Bell is stuck in a time loop and in this scene she shows up drunk at a work event she's supposed to be in charge of. She approaches her crush, champion surfer Lola, and Lola's date for the night, famous pop star Paisley.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene is my favorite because it's so out of character for Bell to act this way at work and for her to be so forward with Lola. Usually she's passive around Lola, who is famous and cool, but in this scene Bell approaches Lola (while she's on a date!) and tries to flirt, but at the end it's Lola who flusters Bell. I really enjoyed writing a loose and confident Bell. It also helps her confidence that everyone involved in the scene won't remember what happened after the time loop resets. I wanted this scene to show how freeing it can be when Bell doesn't have to worry about impressing anyone and can just do whatever she wants - with the knowledge that none of what happens is permanent.

* * *

Excerpt:

The rest of the little group followed Bell’s eye line. “Is that Paisley?” Franco gasped. “Why didn’t you tell us she was here?” He shook his head in betrayal. “What other secrets are you keeping?”

“I’m stuck in a time loop and this is the fourth time I’m living this day. I’ve spent hours and hours with Lola that she doesn’t remember, I’ve kissed coworkers and they don’t remember, I was kissed by Ramona and I wish I didn’t remember that one. I’ve been cursed by Pele. I keep falling into different bodies of water and waking up in my bed at home, perfectly dry and stuck in the same day again. I’m never getting out of this time loop so I’m going to do whatever I want now.” Bell nodded once, decisively, before marching toward Lola and Paisley.

Cecily, Franco, and Luke stared helplessly at each other. “Who’s Lola?” Cecily asked.

Bell reached the bar, her view of Lola partially restricted by Paisley. She raised her hand to tap Paisley on the shoulder, reconsidered that course of action halfway through the motion, and met Lola’s quizzical eyes as she stood frozen with one finger in the air.

Bell smiled and fluttered her fingers at Lola, who slowly raised her hand and reciprocated. Bell leaned around Paisley. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Lola responded. “Do I know you?”

“We’ve met before,” Bell said. “But it was in another universe. Or timeline. I’m not sure.” At Lola’s raised eyebrows Bell added, “I’m stuck in a time loop.”

“Really?” Paisley interrupted, awe in her voice. “Like Groundhog Day?”

Bell winked at her. “Exactly.” 

Lola didn’t look as excited by the possibility of Bell being stuck in a time loop as Paisley was, but she didn’t scoff at the idea either. 

Paisley hesitantly brought her hand up and lightly touched Bell’s arm. “You’re real,” she confirmed with a squeeze.

“Yup,” Bell said.

“Can I hug you?” Paisley asked. 

“Sure.” 

Paisley snaked her arms around Bell’s waist, leaning down to rest her head on Bell’s shoulder. She took a deep breath. “I can smell the time loop on you.” Paisley sprang up. “I feel a new song coming. I have to process this,” she said before pulling out her phone as she walked away, bumping into other guests as she typed furiously at the phone screen.

“She’s very nice,” Bell said. “If a little oblivious.”

Lola’s eyebrows raised a fraction. “Can I get you a drink?”

Bell rested an elbow on the bar. “Sure. What was that pink cocktail that you were drinking earlier? It was while you were reading a book. And before you worry, no, I’m not a stalker. You got freaked out about that in one loop. I’ve seen you sipping on the same drink four times and I never asked you what it was.”

“There’s only one drink I like to enjoy while I read on vacation,” Lola said. She flagged down the bartender. “One Pink Bikini, please.”

The bartender nodded and then did a double take. “What’s up Bell? Miriam was looking for you earlier. She’s really mad at you.”

“Hi, Kahale. I’m probably getting fired soon,” Bell said, more chipper than the situation warranted. 

“That sucks.” Kahale finished mixing the Pink Bikini and slid it over to Bell. “We’re going to miss you around here.” 

“That’s so sweet. Thank you,” she said as she sipped her drink. 

Kahale moved on to the next customer. Lola sidled closer to Bell.

“So why are you getting fired?” Lola was playing with a straw, twirling it between her fingers as she waited for Bell to answer. Bell, though, was completely mesmerized by Lola’s dexterity and wondered how those fingers would feel on her body.

Lola cleared her throat, getting Bell’s attention. She smirked as if she knew exactly how her movements were affecting Bell. 

* * *

Five Kisses at Midnight: A New Year's Eve Romance ©2022 by Abby Crofton

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* * *

About the Author:

Abby Crofton has always enjoyed reading books with a 'happily ever after' and achieved a long time dream by writing and publishing her first book, "Say Yes to the Cheerleader." She currently lives on the East Coast of the U.S. and enjoys snuggling with her girlfriend, leisurely hikes, and writing.

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MIRACLES BY SERENA J. BISHOP

Blurb:

After three years together, Aurora and Leela have settled into a cozy life. The only complaint is their lack of quality time together. When the opportunity arises for a trip to paradise, they can't turn it down. A week of romance among Hawaii's natural wonders is exactly what they need to reconnect. When they return home, their relationship is the strongest and most stress-free it's ever been.

Then, Aurora learns she's pregnant.

There was no infidelity. There was no assault. There's no logical explanation for the conception, but the pregnancy is undeniable. And it feels right to Aurora.

Aurora and Leela debate whether a scientific or spiritual reason is the cause, but the mystery takes a backseat as maternal instincts take over. Aurora's connection ranges from the ordinary to psychic, but her experiences are nothing compared to Leela's. A new, primal voice from within directs her to do whatever is necessary to protect their child.

Can they keep the cause of the pregnancy and the psychic connection to their child a secret? Can they come to terms with the uniqueness of their child and the circumstances around her conception? And can they accept the grandest miracle of them all?

Tell us about this scene:

Aurora has just told her mother that she's pregnant, but neither she nor Leela know what caused it. However, Leela remembers a key detail from around the time of conception that could explain it all.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This was a challenging task, but ultimately, I decided that this excerpt is my favorite because it encapsulates my mantra: heart, humor, and heroines. Writing this scene was also great fun to write.

Why it was so much fun to write is mostly because I put my main characters in an impossible and awkward situation. Aurora and Leela are struggling to come to terms with the mystery surrounding Aurora’s pregnancy. I mean, parthenogenesis, an asexual reproduction method never documented in humans, is the leading theory. But, then Leela remember a key detail. The theory goes from hard science to magic in a flash, all because Leela remembers an almost forgotten observation during the time around conception. I also giggled while writing this because Leela is so bashful talking about sex and Aurora’s mother is not.

The scene also has heart. Aurora’s mother is there to do more than make Leela feel awkward with sex questions. She’s there to remind Aurora and Leela that their whole relationship was built on a mystery and that their child should be no different. In fact, maybe they were brought together to create their child who is destined for great things.

Finally, I love this scene because shortly after the novel’s release I heard my wife laughing in the living room. When I asked her what was so funny, she said she was reading this scene. So, when I read this scene, I hear my wife’s laughter.

There you have it. This scene was fun from the start and continues to bring smiles now that it’s published. I hope you enjoy it too.

* * *

Excerpt:

While her mother sat in the sweltering living room and sipped hot tea, Aurora sat on the bed in the guest room and heard the latest piece of information that rocked her sense of reality. “What do you mean you felt me?”

“You know how before and during orgasm there’s extra. . . tightness?”

“Yeah,” Aurora answered matter-of-factly. “But I don’t see how that relates. Your fingers were,” she cupped her breasts, “other places.”

“My point exactly! I felt you with Biddie. . . I think.”

That didn’t mean. . .  did it?

“Hold on,” Aurora said with her hands waving. “There’s a big difference between thinking and knowing here. Thinking implies doubt, but knowing implies, well, you know what knowing implies, right?”

“That Biddie came to life like a pornographic snowman. And I know how ludicrous I sound. But…” Leela placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I felt you. I’m sure of it.”

Aurora agreed that this idea was even more out there than her parthenogenesis theory, but unlike that event, with this, there had to be some kind of proof. “Do you remember feeling anything other than me?”

Leela skewed her mouth. “I had some muscle cramping, but then you got on top and I was fine.”

She remembered changing positions very well. There had to be something else. “Did Biddie look different?”

“Um, not really visible. And then you took it out of the o-ring. Did it look or feel different to you?”

Aurora shook her head. “The room was dark. But in the morning when you cleaned and packed it?”

Leela shrugged. “Looked the same. In all its ridged, purple glory.”

She thought about what else could explain Leela’s observation, but she hit another roadblock. Luckily, there was someone close to her who was an expert at thinking outside the box. Aurora slapped her thighs and stood. “We have to tell Mom.”

Leela rushed to the door and blocked her exit. “No, no, no. That’s next-level sex information. I don’t want her to know I’m the top.”

“Do you want answers or not?” Aurora asked with her hand on the doorknob. “Besides, everyone already knows you’re the top.”

When Leela sighed and stepped to the side, she strode into the living room, where her mother had her laptop open on the coffee table. “There’s been a revelation of sorts.”

“Oh?” Ani said and closed the laptop. “What did you learn?”

Aurora looked to Leela, who shook her head. “I can’t be here. I’ll be in the bathroom,” she said and then turned away.

Once the door to the bathroom latched shut. Ani turned to her. “Leela’s much shyer about sex than I would have imagined. I guess her parents weren’t very open with the topic.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

Early in their relationship, Leela had shared that there had been no sex talk. Rather, when she was eleven, her parents had arranged office visits for a gynecologist and a proctologist so they could give her a sex talk. She had learned a tremendous amount about anatomy and diseases, but that was the extent of her formal education. Leela had explained that all of her other knowledge and skills came from self-study and field work.

“Well, I guess not all parents are as cool as your father and me.” Ani sipped her tea. “So, what’s this discovery you two figured out? Because I found some great stuff on my own.”

Aurora was about to speak but stopped. She could always talk to her mother about anything; relationships, emotions, the dreams that had led her to Leela, but this was as intimate as it got. She pretended she wasn’t about to talk to her mother, but rather a friend who happened to be older and struck an uncanny resemblance to her. “So, Leela thinks she felt me with the toy we were using. Almost like it became a part of her.”

Ani gasped. “A ceremonial phallus. This is excellent! As far as I’m concerned this isn’t even a mystery anymore.” 

“But I. . . I still don’t understand. Babies aren’t made this way! It was a stretch to believe that my cells did this on their own, let alone this. How can I tell people, tell chickpea, when I don’t understand?”

Ani set her teacup down and cradled Aurora’s hands in hers. “Boo bear, you and Leela are together because of a miracle. In three years, no one has ever been able to explain how or why you dreamed about her the way you did. Leela’s doctors and even the one in Seattle tried. Brilliant minds with millions of dollars of equipment couldn’t explain why you were called to her. And back then, you didn’t believe it at first either, but you had faith and went to her. Aren’t you glad you did?”

Aurora nodded, her mother’s words bringing tears to her eyes.

“And look at you two now. Your love for each other is so deep—it’s so profound—that the Creator has given you life. In fact, maybe your chickpea is why you and Leela are together? Maybe chickpea is the key to saving the world or something?”

* * *

Miracles ©2022 by Serena J. Bishop

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Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Serena J. Bishop writes stories with humor, heart, and heroines. When she’s not writing fiction she enjoys being a nerd, surprising others with her pop culture knowledge, or finding a beverage she loves. She resides in Maryland with her lovely wife and chihuahua.

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CHILD OF THE CRYSTAL PLANET BY ENNIS ROOK BASHE

Blurb:

A runaway nonbinary teenager with uncontrolled psychic powers and secret trauma.

An impulsive girl whose psychic powers have forced her to become an intergalactic celebrity.

No one on their home planets understands them.

What if they could be the perfect team?

From fighting an evil ghost preying on an exoplanet’s queer population, to freeing the captive population of an orbiting sweatshop, no mission is too dangerous for this badass pair. But what happens when their feelings for each other change?

Child of the Crystal Planet is an #ownvoices novel in linked short stories with Weetzie Bat and Star Wars vibes, featuring love, friendship, and found family.

Tell us about this scene:

Bug, a teenage psychic on an undercover mission, has been injected with poison and left to die. They use their mental connection with their best friend, Lyric, to call for help.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love this scene because it illustrates how much Lyric and Bug care about each other. From the very first moment Lyric sees Bug, she’s willing to do anything for them. She’s just a teenager, but she opens up her home to this traumatized, mute runaway. She even lets Bug sleep in her bed so they’ll feel safe. When they unlock their psychic powers and are able to fight on their own, she’s so happy that they’re reaching their potential.

Bug isn’t a traditional hero, but their love for Lyric makes them brave. With her believing in them, they can do anything- even if that means being the one to save Lyric. They take care of each other and have an unbreakable bond that gives them the strength to challenge any enemy, from serial killers to their own inner demons. Their feelings also enhance their psychic powers.

In my opinion, this scene really captures the story's themes, because Child of the Crystal Planet is a book about how being loved can give you the power to love yourself.

* * *

Excerpt:

Need to get my crystal. Need to contact Lyric… she’ll be worried… Wincing as the room spun and tilted, Bug pushed up to a crawling position. They felt like they’d stood up too quickly. The world was spinning out of control. Fighting not to throw up even as they gagged and dry-heaved, Bug put all their energy into stretching one tendril of energy across the light-years, a lifeline from a drowning heart. 

Bug? Your energy signature feels strange. Muffled somehow. What's happening?

Head swimming, they struggled to communicate in coherent images. They gave me some sort of... a big needle. Cardiac something?

“We have to get them out of there. Now,” Bug felt Lyric say to someone else. And, reaffirming the psychic connection: Bug, is your crystal with you?

Somewhere over there? They waved a hand vaguely, even though the connection was voice only. I think I dropped it when they threw me in... Could they use telepathy in a different way to find it? Reaching out with their power in an attempt to locate the rose quartz oval just made their head pound and the room sway. Their heart felt like it was trying to break down their ribcage and get out of their chest.

Worry colored Lyric’s mind-voice. Bug, you need to reach your power crystal- you have to boost your telepathic signature so I can pinpoint your coordinates. You’ll be okay if you get treatment in time, but we can't track the satellite without your help.

The crystals boosted power. But Bug didn't have any power left.

My heart- so fast. Like it's buzzing...

Their dry eyes blinked shut as they fell into a place past pain.

Lyric pushed desperately at their connection. It felt like a swamp full of spiderwebs: sticky, hard to wade through. 

Bug! She shouted in her head. Wake up! Where are you?

She pushed harder, determined to reach her trainee. The distance between them hit like a brick to the head. 

"...the perils of confidence," Mentor Yamina said above her as she blinked open her eyes. She was lying on the rug in her mentor’s office.

Where was her power crystal? She needed to contact Bug!

"I’ve known you long enough to guess your plan. Your crystal is safe with me- in a locked terrarium, mind. I have some butterflies looking after it for you."

"Bug," Lyric whispered, throat parchment-dry. Tears stung her eyes.

"Hush. Drink this." Yamina helped her sit up and pressed a mug of tea into her hands: chamomile, lavender, vanilla, rose.

“I need to be with Bug,” she said once she’d drained the cup, wiping her mouth. “I need to go to them-” 

“I know you care deeply about Bug, but you don’t have the telepathic power to reach them, and you might perish if you continue trying. Right now, we need to trust in them. There’s nothing we can do but hope.”

Lyric’s jaw clenched as she reached for her staff. “With all due respect, shut up. Even if it’s dangerous, I’m not abandoning Bug.”

Mentor Yamina was an excellent investigator and diplomat, but Lyric had the faster reaction time. Lyric pushed past her shocked mentor. She swept her staff, knocking a glass terrarium on the desk’s edge to the ground. The butterflies swooped to hide in Mentor Yamina’s headscarf as Lyric dove for her power crystal. She clutched it tightly, knuckles white, trembling. 

“You must know I can’t condone this.”

“Well, I can’t condone sitting back and doing nothing,” Lyric shot back. “I’ll be careful- but you can’t stop me, so don’t even try.” She dove into the connection once more, her mind reaching out across lightyears. Bug’s mental presence had vanished, leaving only a blank void at the other end of the bond. Still, Lyric sent all the energy she could spare into that darkness. 

I believe in you.

I know you can make it back to me. 

Please do whatever it takes to survive.  

* * *

Child of the Crystal Planet ©2023 by Ennis Rook Bashe

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Ennis Bashe is a Lesfic Bard Award-winning romance novelist and poet whose work has appeared in Strange Horizons, Cricket, and Liminality Magazine. You can find more of their writing at https://linktr.ee/ennisrookbashe.

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THE HAREM PROTAGONIST WAS TURNED INTO A GIRL!! AND DOESN’T WANT TO CHANGE BACK!!!?? BY FERN V. BEDEK

Blurb:

Aliens. Robots. Vampires. Five girls deciding they want to marry him. Kevin’s life is a mess. Now he’s been turned into a girl. It’s just one thing after another…

Actually, that last one is proving surprisingly nice.

Tell us about this scene:

Plynx, a feline alien princess, has finally come to understand that Svetlana is actually a woman, following the clearing up of an inter-cultural misunderstanding.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I feel this covers a good range of moods, there’s passion, comedy, and a bit of world building being shown. Also, when I shared it elsewhere, it led to people acquiring a strange new thing to their google search history, which is always fun.

* * *

Excerpt:

Svetlana was walking back to her apartment with Plynx, holding hands and quietly enjoying each other’s company. It was a bit longer of a walk, across most of downtown Hammer City, but the two women wanted to spend the time together. The warm summer night felt made for a long walk together. 

The silence was occasionally broken by quick apologies and ‘I love you’s, but, otherwise, there was nothing either really felt like saying. The pair then ducked into a small park near the railroad line that cut through the city. In the shadows, the pair kissed. Then kissed a few more times, more passion and excitement with each kiss. Plynx’s tongue was rough, but in a way that was enticing and thrilling, rather than painful. Svetlana wanted more, having missed the feeling of Plynx’s affection, and soon found herself pressed against a tree by the warrior princess’ strong arms. 

Svetlana was firmly enjoying herself when an extra wave of pleasure washed over her that she couldn’t quite place. Plynx’s kisses were good, but not that good. She couldn’t contain the need to moan with joy. 

As Plynx stared in confusion, Svetlana felt another wave pass over her. It was almost like…

“Oh gosh,” she muttered, blushing and growing hot.

“Are you-love alright?” Plynx asked.

“I—I think—mmmm… I think O’tmyil and Vivian are… it’s hard to complain about this feeling, but it’s raaather distracting,” Svetlana mumbled, before biting on her knuckle. “Didn’t know our connection would do this.”

Svetlana pulled out her phone, pulling up O’tmyil’s contact and, despite the difficulty of focusing on the tiny touch keys with these feelings rushing through her, managed to send a message asking if O’tmyil could at least turn down their connection for the time being. It was a good thing the messenger app was connected directly to O’tmyil’s processor and there was no need to wait for her to check a phone.

A message of ‘sure thing’ popped up a moment later, and Svetlana felt herself quickly grow more grounded. There was still a background warmth to her mind, but it was far less overwhelming. More like the feedback she got from kissing O’tmyil than the more powerful feelings that came with more vigorous actions.

“What would O’tmyil and Wong-friend be doing right now that could have such affect on you, Svetlana-dearest?” Plynx asked.

“Um… well, Vivian found out O’tmyil and Thisbe like girls, and… I always did feel a bit greedy having everything be about me, so I gave her my blessings to try to see if those two might also be interested in her, and… I think it’s pretty well guaranteed any girl who likes girls would swoon for Vivian’s six-foot-five well toned physique,” Svetlana replied, before pausing. “Do you like girls, in general?”

Plynx blushed slighted, fidgeting for a moment. “I… with humans, I might, yes. The scent of other female Issiod’rians does not appeal to me, but humans lack those pheromones… in fact, there’s things about male Issiod’rians I was never fond of that humans lack…” Plynx’s blush worsened. “I may be something of a deviant, more attracted to another species than my own.”

“Huh. You’re like an ostrich,” Svetlana replied.

Plynx turned, staring at her. “An Os-what?”

“Large flightless birds. Apparently they almost universally find humans more attractive than other ostriches. I read about it somewhere,” Svetlana replied.

“I… I do not know if I like a comparison to a large flightless bird,” Plynx said.

Svetlana stepped forward, placing a hand on Plynx’s chin. “How about a comparison to me, then? You and O’tmyil are both aliens, and I love you both.”

She punctuated the point with another kiss, less messy, but more focused than the earlier ones against the tree. Plynx was smiling when she broke it.

* * *

The Harem Protagonist Was Turned Into A Girl!! And Doesn’t Want To Change Back!!!?? ©2023 by Fern V. Bedek

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Fern V. Bedek is a Canadian trans author who writes stories that are generally trans and/or sapphic in nature.

CHEERLEADERS FROM PLANET X BY LYSSA CHIAVARI

Blurb:

Aliens are among us. And humanity’s only hope just happens to carry pom-poms.

Laura Clark thought she was just your average college freshman—until the day she saw a cheerleader on a skateboard get into a superhuman brawl with a lightning-wielding stranger in a trenchcoat. And the weirdest thing of all? Nobody else saw it happen. Nobody, that is, except the beautiful but standoffish Shailene, one of the mysterious (and possibly super-powered) cheerleaders from Laura’s rival school, Bayview University.

When girls start disappearing all over the City, Laura suddenly realizes that she may have seen more than she should. And if she wants to keep from disappearing herself, she needs to find some answers. But though Laura can’t shake the feeling that they’re somehow connected, Shailene is more than a little reluctant to share her secrets. With strange, bug-like creatures and a sinister man in a dark coat stalking her every step, Laura will have to uncover the truth fast if she wants to survive.

The fate of the planet just might hang in the balance.

Tell us about this scene:

Laura Clark just found out she's got superpowers, and in the process crash-landed into Shailene, a fellow superhuman who Laura has clashed with previously. While on an assignment to find the one responsible for the disappearances that have taken place all over the city, Laura and Shailene share a surprising connection at the top of Firebelle Tower.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

For the first part of the book, every time Laura and Shailene encounter each other, it turns into an argument. Shailene blames Laura for the supernatural attacks that her friends have been experiencing, which only began when Laura came onto the scene. Laura, meanwhile, has only just discovered her powers and doesn't understand why Shailene has been so hostile toward her. And both girls can't shake the unmistakable feeling that they know each other, though neither can remember why. This is the first scene where the two are finally able to connect without arguing, and marks a turning point in their relationship. I also really enjoyed the story of Firebelle Lil and exploring the history of the City, the fictitious metropolis where the story takes place, which is loosely based on San Francisco.

* * *

Excerpt:

I sighed and shoved my phone back in my pocket.

“Everything okay?” Shailene asked.

“It’s fine,” I said.

Shailene was quiet for a moment, crouched with her arms draped across her knees, looking down at her hands. “It seems like no matter how hard I try, I’m always sticking my foot in my mouth around you.”

“What?” I said, not sure I’d heard her right.

She shrugged. “Like yesterday. I’m sure you spent all last night thinking about what a bitch I am.”

I blinked rapidly, looking away. “Actually, no. I didn’t think about you at all last night after you left.” It was a total lie—that was exactly what I’d done, but I didn’t want her to know that.

She laughed awkwardly. “Of course not.” Something in her tone of voice made me glance back at her. Her face was bright red. “There I go, foot in mouth again. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

We sat in uncomfortable silence. After a moment, Shailene stood, pacing across the angled metal plating of the torch’s flames. She had some good balance—and nerves of steel—to walk around out there, I thought. She pulled at her long, dark hair as she paced, twisting it up into a bun, knotting it into itself. That’s when I noticed—at the nape of her neck was a small tattoo, slightly smudged at the edges with age. An inverted black triangle.

“Your tattoo,” I said hesitantly.

She looked at me, her eyes guarded. “What about it?”

I shrugged. “I like it. I was just going to say I have a similar one.” I pulled up the cuff of my jeans, revealing a small heart on my ankle, emblazoned with the rainbow pride flag.

Something in her eyes changed at the sight of it. Softened a little. For a brief second, I felt that wall that she’d built between us last night start to crumble—just a bit. “Oh,” she said. “That’s cool.”

I smiled in what I hoped was a conciliatory fashion, and she smiled back. We looked out over the treetops together.

“I’ve always loved this place,” she finally said.

I grinned, eager to have a conversation with her that didn’t involve us arguing. “Yeah? Do you come here often?”

“Yeah. It’s a good place to monitor Anesidoran activity. There’s not as much interference with the amplifier. But… sometimes I just come here. You know. To think.”

“No good thinking spots in City West?” I teased.

She half-turned, glancing up at the glinting flames rising over us. “It’s not that. It’s more like… I feel a connection to this place. Do you know the story of Firebelle Lil?”

“Lillian Brown?” I clarified. “A little. I know that she was the first female firefighter in the City, back in the early nineteen-hundreds.” This tower was built as a memorial to her—there was a plaque saying so down at the base—and the park was named after her, too.

“Those are the basics,” Shailene said. “But there’s more to it. This tower was donated to the city by Sylvester Jones, the newspaper mogul.”

“The guy the park in City West is named after.”

“Yeah. Sylvester Jones was in love with Firebelle Lil, and he asked her to marry him at least half a dozen times. But she always turned him down. After she died in the Great Fire, he had this tower built in her memory and donated it to the City as part of the park.” She ran a hand thoughtfully along the smooth, gleaming bronze. “But that’s not the whole story. The real reason she turned him down is because”—she hesitated, seeming unsure if she should continue; but then her eyes flashed, determined—“she already had a lover. A woman named Betty.”

My heart skipped slightly, both from Shailene’s words and the way she looked at me when she said them. This was something I’d never known. Firebelle Lil was one of the great heroes of the City. She’d saved hundreds of lives before the flames had taken her own. I’d heard about her all my life, but I’d never heard that she might have been a lesbian. “Is that true?”

“It’s true,” Shailene said. “I found a book in the library that had some of their letters in it, Lillian and Betty’s. Believe me, there was nothing platonic about them. But they neglect to mention that in history class, huh?” She smiled wryly. “Anyway, that’s why… Firebelle Lil is kind of special to me. I used to come here a lot when I was… going through some stuff. I feel closer to her here. Even if this tower was built by a more-than-slightly-obsessive straight guy who couldn’t take a hint.”

I laughed, and Shailene laughed with me. It felt nice to not be at odds with her.

And familiar.

* * *

Cheerleaders from Planet X ©2017 by Lyssa Chiavari

Published by The Kraken Collective

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from the publisher

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Lyssa Chiavari writes inclusive speculative fiction for young adults, such as Fourth World, the first book in a time-bending sci-fi trilogy set on Mars, and Cheerleaders from Planet X, a tongue-in-cheek send-up of all things sci-fi. She lives with her family and way too many animals in Northwest Oregon.

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ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

V.A.M.P. BOOK TWO—BORN BY KIMBERLY A. TODD

Blurb:

A family secret challenges everything Katerina Davenport knows to be real. Will it enlighten or destroy her?

Katerina fell madly in love with an 800-year-old lesbian vampire—that was the easy part. Now she must learn to navigate the seductive and dangerous consequences of the vampire world. Will her internal struggle to hold onto who she truly is and all that is pure, survive her cravings for blood?

Serena Vanderen already rescued the love of her life once from the vicious Hapsbergen family. Now she must fight to protect Katerina from herself and the terrifying threat of losing her forever. Can Serena stop the woman who is most precious to her from becoming a mass murderer?

Find out what happens next in Born the second book of the V.A.M.P. series, continuing the steamy epic romance and adventures of Serena and Katerina as they battle for love and family.

Tell us about this scene:

This excerpt takes place at the very beginning of book two. It is just after the end of book one where Katerina (a human) is told by her girlfriend, Serena (who is a vampire), that she will eventually become a vampire. That Katerina is actually a born vampire that will eventually transition from a human to a vampire. This scene begins with Katerina confronting her vampire father, Drew.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is one of my favorite scenes because it’s the final validation that Katerina needs to hear from her father that confirms her destiny of becoming a vampire. It causes Katerina to deal with her emotions and process the fact that her humanity will be gone, but the lessons she learned while being human will last for eternity.

* * *

Excerpt:

KATERINA

My father stared blankly into my eyes. “Yes,” he said.

“Yes, what?” I snapped in frustration.

“Yes, I am a vampire, and yes, you too, will become one eventually.”

I sat back on the sofa in the living room of my childhood home. After taking the time to digest what Serena previously told me, it took me weeks to entertain the idea that my father could possibly be a vampire. Even now, with his confirmation, I still found it hard to believe.

I knew my girlfriend was a vampire, so the idea of having another person in my life who could possibly be one didn’t seem that far-fetched. Serena had been right about my father—and about me as well. Serena moved closer to me so that our shoulders were side by side and rested her hand on my knee. I sighed and lay my head on her shoulder. After several minutes, I looked up at my father and spoke in a low monotone. “How long have you been a vampire, and why didn’t you tell me about it? More importantly, why didn’t you tell me that I am to become one as well?”

My father’s face remained emotionless as he gazed at me. “I have been a vampire for hundreds of years. Your mother and I decided it was best not to tell you until you were older or came asking. We wanted you to enjoy your human life and live every human moment to its fullest. We wanted you to be able to experience and remember the first taste of your favorite food, the feeling of falling in love for the first time, the smell of the ocean and the feeling of the waves as they crashed over your feet. Those and many more of your experiences over the years will remain forever in your mind as vivid, detailed, happy memories. They will serve you well over your lifetime as you begin to transition from human to vampire. They will help you to empathize with the human condition. You will be able to understand the human race as a whole, so that you can live among them and share the ups and downs of close friends and family members who come into and then leave your life as time passes. Essentially, you will become immortal, Katerina, and part of existing forever involves watching those humans you love eventually pass away. At times, that can be quite devastating.

“These years evolving as a human have given you the foundation you will need to continue for what most likely will be eternity. They are the building blocks that will help you to develop and work alongside humanity, in what we hope is a moral and respectful way. Your mother and I want you to remain in harmony with humans as we have done for centuries. There are some of our kind who do not think or act as we do. One day, you will see that for yourself, and you will need to be strong and follow what we have taught you.”

A knot formed in my stomach. The feasibility of being around for eternity blew my mind. I glanced down at Serena’s hand resting on my leg. It appeared a ghostly translucent, grayish-white color compared to the warm peach of my skin. I had never really paid attention to it until now. I knew Serena was pale, but just associated her complexion with that of friends who were of Irish and Scottish descent. The kind of friends who stayed out of the sun and always complained they couldn’t get a tan. I placed my hand on top of Serena’s and clearly understood what I was to become and what my father was trying to tell me. My heart rate started to increase as I began to freak out that my humanity was coming to an end.

I glanced from my father to Serena, and then back to my father. “How long do I have before the transition begins?”

Dad stared at Serena and remained silent. His facial expression prompted Serena to respond.

“Well, darling, based on your keen sense of hearing, our telepathic connection, and your heightened sense of smell, I’d venture a guess that it has already begun and will pick up momentum over the next month or two.”

I stared at my father. “You knew, didn’t you, Dad, that Serena was a vampire?”

He glanced at Serena. “Yes. I felt her the moment she stepped into our house, but I shielded my true nature from her. I wanted to see where your relationship was headed before I revealed my real identity to you. At Christmas, I had no idea if Serena had confided in you yet—as to who and what she was. I didn’t want to cause any trouble in case you chose to break up before she told you.

“When you told me Serena’s last name, that confirmed for me who she was. Her family is a well-known, powerful, and admired Elder-family in the vampire world. Your mother and I were secretly thrilled that you two had met and were courting.”

As I listened to my father’s words, my stomach began to churn and fear kicked in. I kept examining his and Serena’s skin. It blew my mind that I had never really paid attention to my dad’s skin tone until now. I started to perspire as my heart rate continued to rise.

“What if I don’t want to be like you? What if I want to remain human?”

My father leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and lit his pipe. The smoke swirled up through the air in smooth ringlets. “I’m afraid you can’t remain human, Katerina. You are a born vampire, and your destiny is to transform into one of us when your body is ready and the time is right. I can tell you that, after the transformation, you will quickly adapt to our ways and eventually will even enjoy some of the perks of eternal life.”

“Enjoy the perks of eternal life? Do you even know how ridiculous that sounds to me right now? Basically, you are telling me I am to become some kind of undead freak and I’ll just love it! Sorry, Dad. I’ve got to tell you—I don’t love it and I feel like I am going to throw up!” I jumped up from the sofa and ran out of the room. 

* * *

V.A.M.P. Book Two—Born ©2022 by Kimberly A. Todd

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Kimberly is a sapphic fiction and romance author who lives in New Jersey with her wife of eight years. She loves to create intelligent, sexy characters that readers fall in love with, combined with a couple of plot twists and steamy scenes that keep you turning the page.

Sign up here for Kimberly A. Todd ’s author newsletter.

ANITA BY MAX ELLENDALE

Blurb:

Doctor Anita Oliver is steadfast in her support of her patients and friends. Always reliable, always there when they need her. After a lifetime spent consulting with the FBI and working for the Seattle Police Department, Anita tumbled onto the front line of the Four Point Killer case. During those years, she helped the people she cared about through endless emotional and physical pain. Now, while the survivors grow beyond the influences of their shared trauma, and begin thriving in their newfound love and happiness, Anita endures the aftermath of the case on her own. Forever on the outskirts, can Anita relinquish the role she's bound herself to over the years in order to embark on her own healing journey? Or will she remain the sole survivor still stuck in the rubble of a collapsed life?

Tell us about this scene:

Anita and Marita have been friends for over a decade. Marita's feelings for Anita have always been clear while Anita struggled to accept hers. This scene is one of the first where they reunite years later, and finally begin opening up.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

There's just something about Marita's language in this scene, the sincerity in her words, and how with just a few sentences, she captures the sentiment of how she sees Anita. Each time I read it, I don't just see them playing as characters in a scene, I feel the energy exuded by the richness of the emotions they share. Anita, as someone healing from loss and trauma of her own, built a wall of stone around her. Marita's words in this scene became the first to lay a crack in the stone.

* * *

Excerpt:

There was no denying that I'd been enjoying Marita's company lately. Sharing meals, talking. While we watched the introduction to the show, my mind wandered around scenarios past and present.

Over a decade ago, Marita became a fast friend. Sure, our lives changed and jobs shifted, but we'd managed to keep in touch over the years. Random phone calls, emails, and lunch dates when either of us was available. Occasionally crossing paths in a work environment or conference, but not often. I never expected to work in the same hospital as her, or to be sharing meals twice in the same week.

Most importantly, I never expected to see her at Harper's New Year's Eve party. I never expected to look at her and notice how beautiful she was, and how bright her light seemed to shine. I knew that she noticed me suddenly paying attention to her in a different way, but it wasn't until Maggie and Nora threw the surprise party for Sali and Harper in February that things changed.

In the snow, walking down the block after the party toward Marita's home, things changed the minute her fingers tickled my palm.

"What are you thinking about while you look at me?" Marita's soft voice implored. I hadn't noticed that I was even looking at her, and I gulped down the thick feeling in my throat.

"Nothing in particular."

"Whatever it is has made your face pretty flushed," she said, her breezy blue eyes falling to their baseline of sensual mysteriousness, knotted with grit and allure.

"Remember the snowstorm in February?"

"Of course I do." She smiled and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her fingers twitch as her hand rested on the pillow not too far from mine. "You looked like a pretty snow fairy with all those glistening flakes dangling off your curls."

"An elderly fairy without any wings, perhaps," I jested.

"Nah." She smiled, reaching up and brushing the knuckle of her index finger against my cheek. "A beautiful fairy, with rosy cheeks and pink lips."

My heart kicked itself up again, pounding in my chest and sending a rush of heat to my flesh. Clammy hands now tousled with the fringe of the pillow as I kept watch on Marita. Anxiety spiraled in my gut, churning my dinner a little bit more than I would've liked.

"I make you frozen when I touch you, Neets. But I'm not sure if you want me to keep touching you or to never touch you again. Does that make sense?" she asked. Even in her doubt, her tone remained kind.

"Yes."

"Your energy swells," she began, her body animating a little bit. "Like a surging sea. It's warm and rhythmic, wanting so badly to reach the shore over and over. I love when you feel that way. When you're open to me like the horizon to a sunset." I watched the way her bronze lips moved when she spoke the almost-poetic words that captured me in a monumental snare. "It makes me want to reach for you. To revel in it and in you."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I didn't.

"And then, for a second, just a split second, you let me see you before you're gone again. Like you set behind the skyline of a flat earth."

"Earth isn't flat," I said, stupidly and breathlessly.

"No. It's not. Know how I know?" she asked, and I shook my head. "Because you come back around again eventually. Each time, like the sun, I hope to feel the heat of you." She smiled now, dropping her head back on the sofa. "Sometimes you let me."

"Sometimes I want you to," I admitted, but as usual, the swell of emotion rose to my sinuses, causing pressure to build behind my eyes. No one had ever spoken to me like Marita had. She wrote her emails and texts the same way. With such depth and intellect that sometimes I'd reread them, just for the pure joy of knowing she'd created it.

"Then let me," she said, her gaze holding mine. "Just...let me."

"I don't know how." The confession left me on a bated breath. "It's been so long."

"We started somewhere in that snowstorm." She held her hand out to me, palm up. "I'd like to start there again."

I looked down at her hand and the half-dozen braided or beaded bracelets encircling her slender wrist. My bottom lip found its way between my teeth for a fragment of a second before I cautiously snuck my fingers closer to hers. Hiding the tremor in my hands was an impossible feat, but eventually, I took her hand. Her fingers wrapped around mine, offering a gentle squeeze. Warmth flooded up my arm, encircling my center, and settling somewhere so deep that no words could describe it. At least not my words. Marita's words, well, that was something entirely different.

She didn't push me beyond that while we sat there together, watching sister witches chase around a sentient cat in hope of uncovering her magical secret. Try. Don't run. I didn't. That time I didn't. And eventually, Marita's delicate fingers tickled the center of my overheated palm.

* * *

ANITA ©2018 by Max Ellendale

Published by Max Ellendale Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from the author

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Max (she/her) lives in New York and writes primarily LGBTQ+ sci-fi/fantasy, crime/thriller, and romance stories. She describes her women-loving-women novels as "edgy romance and crime/thrillers about women rising from the ashes of their experiences and thriving in the context of love and relationships."

Sign up here for Max Ellendale ’s author newsletter.

DEFENDING JESSICA BY BENNA BOS

Blurb:

Few people accused of murder are as unlikable as Veronica Turner’s client, Jessica French. So to give the haughty heiress the best defense possible Veronica needs help from her favorite true crime podcast. But when she meets the newest sound tech for “Murder by the Bay”, she is instantly enthralled. She wants nothing more than to get close to the stunning, shy woman.

Focused on her new job, Kaia Kent pays little attention to the pushy attorney defending their latest podcast subject. But Veronica just keeps coming around, and every time she does, Kaia finds herself slipping a little further away from dislike and toward serious attraction.

With an innocent woman to defend, a murderer on the loose, and opposites that are smashed together in a whirlwind of fear, intrigue, and passion, defending Jessica will prove to be anything but easy.

Tell us about this scene:

Veronica has been kidnapped and Kaia is tracking her abductor down. She's found the abductor's car at a gas station, but no one is in the car or in the lot. Kaia has just set a small fire to attract the attention of those inside the building.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Women heroes are always my favorite. They don't need to wait for a man to help them. They don't call for back-up. They use their wits and act, regardless of the danger they might face. In this scene, Kaia risks her own life to save her girlfriend. The danger is high. The tension is high. And Kaia knows practically nothing going into the fray. That combination of factors creates an edge-of-the-seat quality that's palpable. And the cherry on top is the part of the scene that shows the intense emotions between Kaia and Veronica. So for me, this scene contained many of my favorite things to read and to write all in one compact passage.

* * *

Excerpt:

The fire wasn’t big at all. There must have been too many fail-safes in the gas pump mechanism. But a small puddle of spilled gas did light on the concrete, creating a bit of a show. From her spot near the side of the building, Kaia could see the impression it made.  Orange flames licked at the SUV’s tires. In the waning light it sent out a halo of red-orange light around the vehicle, making it appear lit up from behind.

Her heart jumped in her throat as the glass door of the shop flung open, jangling the bell suspended above it. A man shot out, tall and lean, tousled brown hair flying around his head, a thick, black gun gripped in his hand.

The man tore at his hair with his free hand and jumped from one foot to the other. But before he could decide what to do about the flames licking around the perimeter of the car, two police cars, sirens roaring, squealed into the gas station lot. The vehicles stopped on a dime and four officers jumped out.

The man with the gun—who absolutely had to be Gregory—spun to head back into the shop. Before her brain could even register what her body was doing, Kaia jumped into action. She ran to the door and plastered her body in front of it.

Kaia squeezed her eyes shut. Throwing herself in the way of a gun-wielding kidnapper was not her brightest move. Unable to watch the coming of her own death, she kept her eyes closed. But every other sense in her body heightened, as if attempting to thwart her plan to stay ignorant of her precarious situation.

The sirens created a backdrop to tense shouting. Beneath the cadence of the voices wafted the clicks and clacks of various gun parts. The smell of burning gasoline, its heat now diminished, lingered, pricking at her nose.

A thud from up ahead hit her ears followed by more clacking sounds, metal on pavement perhaps? A moment later the door at her back vibrated, creating a full body panic. She leapt forward, eyes thrown open.

In front of her, Gregory lay face down on the greasy, black pavement, a police officer straddling his back. A wispy cloud of grey smoke hung over them like an ominous warning.

Kaia had only a nanosecond to register the scene before the commotion behind her took over her thoughts. The door swung open as she turned toward it, barely escaping a broken nose as she pulled out of the way. A kid, long and lanky, appeared, his hands held above his head as he focused on the police officers.

“Who’s inside?” One officer’s voice was loud and clear as she shouted toward the kid.

“My girlfriend, Gwen, and the lady he kidnapped.” The kid pointed with the toe of his running shoe at the man on the ground.

Kaia’s heart nearly stopped. Her head swiveled toward the door. It swung closed with a definitive thump. Her angle had changed, and now the dust-smeared glass obscured the view of anything or anyone that may lie beyond it.

“Anybody hurt?” the officer asked.

The kid kept his hands over his head, even though the police lowered their weapons. He glanced down at the man on the ground. “He had a gun. He pointed it at us.”

Why didn’t the kid answer the question? Was anybody hurt?

“We got the gun,” an officer replied.

“He ran out when he saw the flames. Weird, huh?” The kid stared at the assailant. “One minute his only concern was getting the woman away from me and my girlfriend. Then he thought his car was in danger and he just took off. People’s priorities.”

“Kid. Is anybody hurt?” One of the police officers asked again.

The kid shook his head. At the same moment the door swung open again. A skinny young woman emerged with her arms wrapped around a disheveled blonde that Kaia would know anywhere.

Veronica’s gaze was pointed squarely on Gregory’s prone body. It was clear she didn’t see Kaia until Kaia snagged her waist with one hand and yanked Veronica into her chest. The feel of Veronica, warm and safe in her arms took over every molecule of Kaia’s being, every thought, every breath.

* * *

Defending Jessica ©2022 by Benna Bos

Published by Flashpoint Publications

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Flashpoint Publications

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Benna Bos mixes cozy mystery with engaging love stories. San Francisco is the setting she is most enamored with, and it happens to be her current home. Benna loves to read, write, and go on long walks in the park with her dog.

Sign up here for Benna Bos ’s author newsletter.

ON THE FENCE BY CADE HADDOCK STRONG

Blurb:

After a Mercedes rear-ends Wallace Mahar, her annoyance evaporates the moment the offending driver steps out of the car. Much to her dismay, the stunning woman hands her $10,000. Then disappears.

Ellen Church hoped throwing money at the woman she rear-ended would make her go away, but when she sees her at a bar, she realizes Wallace may be a bigger complication than she first thought. Ellen doesn’t have time for relationships, even if she is attracted to the cute swim coach. She has her eyes on a bigger prize—a Warhol painting with something very special hidden in the frame.

Reformed art thief Mattie Pearson is trying to live on the straight and narrow. After their failed heist at the Schuyler House, she married Alex Holland and the two women couldn’t be happier. But when Mattie’s old friend Ellen shows up with a big-payday proposal, the lure of her old life proves too strong to resist.

The Warhol job draws Wallace deep into the world of female art thieves, and even deeper into the dangers of romance with a woman who steals art—and hearts—for a living.

Tell us about this scene:

Wallace has somehow managed to get herself into a tricky spot. Her leg is wounded, she's alone in the woods, and she has a $30 million diamond in her pocket. Oh, and the police might be hunting her down.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I loved writing this scene and it holds a special place in my author heart. In it, we see Wallace, my most favorite character. She has a heart of gold and is a hot swim coach. But she's fallen in love with an art thief and finds herself in a position she never in a million years expected to be in. It's dark and cold, she's wounded and alone in the woods, and she's got a $30 million diamond in her pocket. A diamond that a lot of other people are trying to find.

* * *

Excerpt:

Wallace picked up her pace and listened for the sound of approaching footsteps. When a branch snapped nearby, she tripped and fell hard to the ground. The agony in her leg paled in comparison to that of her ribs. Her tear-stained cheek rested on the dirt. She lay there, paralyzed by the pain.

The faint sound of sirens spurred her to move. She bit her lip hard and used a mossy log to pull herself to her knees. The pain was worse than anything she’d ever experienced. Worse than the time she’d stepped on a long, rusty nail at her parents’ lake house and worse than the time she’d hit her head on the diving board, trying to emulate Greg Louganis.

She sluggishly got to her feet and trot-limped down the rocky trail. The ground leveled out as the trail turned and began to flank the Potomac River. Her nostrils twitched at the scent of dead fish. The lights of the Chain Bridge glimmered in the distance, like a beacon urging her on, offering her hope.

Her sneakers sunk into the sandy shoreline, slowing her progress. She paused briefly to sit on a large piece of driftwood but then she had a terrifying thought. She jolted to her feet. What if the police had dogs? It would take them no time to track her down, especially at the pace she was moving with her injured leg.

Moonlight flickered on the river’s fast-moving water. There was a light breeze and small waves lapped the shore. Could she make it across the river? It was only a few hundred yards and she was an excellent swimmer. But the water was likely frigid and what if she didn’t have the strength to fight the current. If she didn’t reach the other side quickly, hypothermia would kick in and there was a strong likelihood she’d drown.

She stared at the water swirling past, working up the courage to venture in. That’s when she heard it. The faint sound of a dog barking. Or was her mind playing tricks on her? No, there it was again. Barking. It was now or never. She double-checked the pocket that held the diamond to make sure it was zipped shut. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, she would have laughed at her predicament. Here she was with a thirty-million-dollar diamond in her pocket, when what she really needed was a thirty-dollar life jacket.

She waded in. The icy water stung her skin but it dulled the pain in her leg. When it became too deep to stand, the powerful current sucked her downstream toward the bridge. The current carried her while she paddled with her strong arms. Soon, she was in the middle of the river, halfway there. Her strokes became more frantic as she tried to move closer to the opposite shore. But it wasn’t working. She was just being carried downstream. She kicked hard and swam with all her might, fighting off the panic.

At last, she broke free from the center of the river where the pull of the current was strongest. With each stroke she got closer to the other side. She was going to make it. A boulder on the near shore was within reach. She grasped for its slick cold surface and maneuvered herself into the calm water behind it. When she climbed out of the river, she began to shiver uncontrollably. The bandage on her leg was gone. It had come free in the river and her leg was bleeding again. She crawled over the rocky shoreline. Exhaustion settled over her, and her fingers and toes were numb, but she couldn’t stop now. She stood. Thoughts of Ellen propelled her forward until she tripped on a log and fell to the ground again. This time, she wasn’t sure if she could get up.

* * *

On the Fence ©2021 by Cade Haddock Strong

Published by Bella Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bella Books

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Cade worked for the airlines for many years, and she and her wife have traveled all over the world. She loves skiing, hiking, and playing golf. She grew up in Upstate New York but has lived across the US and abroad, from the mountains of Colorado to the bustling cities of DC, Chicago and Amsterdam.

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A CURIOUS WOMAN BY JESS LEA

Blurb:

Bess Campbell has escaped to the windswept Australian coastal town of Port Bannir, determined to begin her life again. She is loving her fresh start, thanks to her fun job running a hip gallery, her territorial chickens, and a lot of self-help books to find her new, better self.

Port Bannir local Margaret Gale runs an austere maritime museum, and rules her staff with an iron fist. She has no time for that crazy modern gallery or upbeat, earnest Bess sweeping around town on her hipster bicycle.

After a heated dispute over an antique collectible dildo, there’s little hope Margaret and Bess will ever see eye to eye.

But when Port Bannir is rocked by a senseless murder, both women find themselves implicated. Can they work together to expose the truth – or will the truth prove far too dangerous?

A Curious Woman is a fabulous cozy mystery filled with quirkiness and a sweet serve of lesbian romance.

Tell us about this scene:

Bess and Margaret work in rival galleries in a small town and have very different ideas about how to inform and entertain their visitors. From their first meeting, it's clear they have nothing in common and want nothing to do with each other. Definitely not.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene comes at the end of Bess and Margaret's first meeting, where both women are gripped by an instant dislike for each other - and by reluctant attraction. I'm fond of this scene because of its "enemies to lovers" vibe, a favourite trope of mine in lesbian fiction. And I always enjoy the experience of writing about two characters arguing with furious intensity over something inherently silly - in this case, an antique dildo (or as Margaret insists, a faux-Roman fertility symbol) which our heroines have very different views about displaying. On a more serious level, I like the scene because it shows the passion both characters have for their work in museums and galleries, even if their approaches are different, with Margaret a stern traditionalist and Bess always looking for a quirky, alternative angle. At the same time, both women have buried themselves in their work to deal with loneliness and rejection by other people. They need each other ... but it will take them some time to figure that out.

* * *

Excerpt:

“No, I do not, Ms Campbell.” Margaret closed the drawer so hard the item rattled inside it. “I realise some people would prefer a tawdry, fictional explanation. But this artefact happens to be part of the rich cultural heritage of our region.”

“Well, I’m not arguing with that.”

“And the fact you would exploit it for cheap, historically inaccurate laughs demonstrates to me once again that your…place of business has nothing of value to contribute to this town.” Margaret’s eyes narrowed as she folded her arms.

Bess blinked. “Excuse me?”

Margaret made no move to relent or apologise.

“What’s your problem?” Bess demanded.

“At present? Inefficient use of my time.” Margaret brushed an imaginary speck of dust from her gloves. “Now, if there’s nothing more…” She gave her best stare, the one that terrified tourists, cowed her staff, and sent tradesmen scuttling back to their vans to adjust the invoice.

To her aggravation, Bess did not flinch. Instead, she let out an incredulous laugh. “I came here offering an excellent deal,” she said. “It would have benefitted you more than us. Hell, we’ve already got our own display of historical sex toys.”

Margaret glowered. “It’s a faux-Roman—”

“—and you act like this,” Bess finished. “I can’t believe you’re so rude. No wonder no one wants to come here! It’s bad enough paying to look at old tin cans, without having Cruella de Vil taking your ticket.” She hoisted her handbag onto her shoulder and pushed her red hair back. “I’ll see myself out. If you come to your senses, you know where to find us. Just follow the crowd.”

Margaret lifted her chin. “That is not something I’ve ever made a habit of doing.”

The view from behind as Bess swept out might have been worth looking at, but Margaret didn’t. Instead she returned to the display room, took out her microfibre cloths, and set about rubbing finger-marks from a glass cabinet with more force than was necessary.

Inside the cabinet were the tin cans Bess had sneered at. They were leftovers, originally part of a stash earmarked for the Franklin expedition. Technically not Australian history, but the unfortunate Franklin’s record as lieutenant-governor of Van Diemen’s Land made the inclusion permissible in Margaret’s eyes. If you knew where to look, you could still see the lead sealant. Those tins had been a wonder of technology at the time, a means of preserving food and keeping men alive for months in the frozen sea. Instead, so the theory went, the tins had poisoned the crew and sent them wandering off, mad, to their deaths on the ice.

Margaret scrubbed until her wiry arms ached and her face grew warm. These things were interesting. They were real, and they mattered. Why couldn’t people see that?

By the time she’d finished, the glass was sparkling. She put away her rags and rubbed her hands with sanitiser until everything was clean again.

* * *

A Curious Woman ©2019 by Jess Lea

Published by Ylva Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Jess Lea lives in Melbourne, Australia, where she started out as an academic before working in the community sector. She loves vintage crime fiction, the writings of funny women, and lesbian books of all sorts.

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SCIENCE FICTION

NERO BY VALDEN BUSH

Blurb:

Banished and abandoned, will her destiny reunite her with the love of her life?

Stele Hosun has been banished. On Nero, gem shards match people’s eyes and give them their special powers and purpose. But Stele has completely black eyes, and although legend recorded that she could be the chosen one to touch the legendary black shard, fear of her potential power makes her an outcast.

Exiled to Alton, she’s torn from Ariane, her one and only love, who has always accepted Stele for who she is. She drowns her sorrows and wallows in her loneliness until Colonel Kian Ray of the Alton Defense Force offers her the chance to join the ADF and make something of herself. Begrudgingly, Stele accepts, and with the help of new friends, Questa and Domino, she finds new purpose and perhaps even a home.

But Ariane remains the woman Stele wants, the one she needs. When pirates invade Nero to find the fabled and all-powerful black shard, putting Ariane in danger, Stele must lead a rescue that will either destroy them all or fulfil her ultimate destiny.

Tell us about this scene:

This is where Stele and Ariane are finally able to come together; this scene shows the sweet and innocent love between them perfectly.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I'm not one for sex scenes—I'd always prefer to fade to black—but I enjoyed writing this one so much because of what the two characters have been through to finally come together properly. Stele has had to be so tough, but Ariane knows the real Stele, and I loved exploring their intimacy and getting it on the page. It's also from my debut novel, so their relationship will always hold a special place in my heart.

* * *

Excerpt:

The door closed on the outside world, and there was only them. Ariane was there in Stele’s mind, that familiar purple aura. Physically, they had been apart for so long that loneliness came back as soon as Ariane was just a few feet away, the kind that was wrenching and dark, and she needed Ariane in her thoughts. Stele moved closer and kissed Ariane, slowly and gently. She ran her tongue along the inside of Ariane’s lips and pulled her close. She was at one with her at last. She loved her totally.

Ariane stopped kissing her. “Did you just think that?”

“What did I think?” She hadn’t got used to Ariane hearing her thoughts. What had she said? She’d been thinking about what she thought of Ariane. Panic over. It wasn’t a secret. She just hadn’t said those words often. She loved Ariane so she should tell her. “Yes, I did think it. Now I’m going to say it out loud and tell you that I love you. I love you with every part of me. I can’t get close enough to you.” 

“That’s good. I didn’t want my love for you to be a one-way thing,” Ariane said. “I love you too. I always have. There’s never been anyone else in my mind.”

“I haven’t heard you say I love you in my mind. I know when you’re thinking of me, because there’s a purple haze blowing through, and it makes me think I’m home.”

Ariane smiled. “Oh Stele, that’s me thinking of my love for you. Just as you’re my home, I am yours. That home feeling is our love.” 

Stele knew Ariane had the rightness of it. “I want to get close to your skin and show you how much I love you. But—”

“We need food and drink and a shower. Let’s see where our bodies are at the end of that list. My love isn’t going to disappear in those few crons. While we eat, you can tell me how you got here and why you can hear my thoughts.”

A while later, Stele had showered and eaten, and she’d given Ariane a brief description of all that had happened. Now, she was naked and waiting for Ariane, who was in the bathroom. She couldn’t stop thinking about the bittersweet moment of saying good-bye after her banishment and the black tear gems that she’d found. Some would say it was serendipity, and some fate must have been in the mix too. She had her tear in her hand and felt the warmth and calmness coming from it. It had given her such a closeness to Ariane over the moon cycles they’d been apart but now she wouldn’t need it. She could sense Ariane without it. Ariane was singing in the next room, and at the same time, Stele could feel her happiness and the purple haze pulsing love and home. 

She walked to the door and looked at Ariane, naked and drying her luscious black hair. Stele’s legs felt unsteady. She must be more tired than she thought and leaned back against the wall. She wanted to feel that hair in her hands, to comb through it with her fingers, to get the sensual feeling as it brushed across her body tempting her to new heights, new places, and new wonders. Oh, how she loved this woman. 

Stele could feel Ariane’s thoughts overlaying her own. She wanted to love Ariane’s body, and she could feel Ariane’s longing at the same time.

“I can feel that, Stele. Naveh, my own longing is one thing but to know about yours too is a double blast of need,” said Ariane. 

Stele couldn’t take any more, the wait for the passion had been long enough. She swept Ariane into her arms, lifted her up, and carried her over to the bed. She lay Ariane across it and looked at the way the moonlight played across her body from the splinters of gems in the roof. Stele wanted to reaffirm her love for Ariane, to spend time worshipping her body. Her lust and need were reflected in Ariane’s thoughts.

She lay down next to Ariane and pulled her gently onto her side towards her. Her heart was beating almost in time with her thoughts and getting faster. There would be time to celebrate the joy more slowly later. 

Stele slid her hands all over Ariane’s curves, breathing in the flarnic and relishing the ache that appeared in her mind from Ariane. She moved her hands lower, and Ariane nibbled on her neck. Stele lowered her head and pressed her lips to the soft curve of Ariane’s breasts, before exploring her dark nipples with her tongue. Her hand explored lower and found the heat she’d been looking for. Ariane raised her hips to greet her and a cron later, Stele’s mind was filled with Ariane’s, a melody of softness and love. 

Sometimes passion, lust, and love intermingle, and Stele’s frustration must have passed to Ariane who didn’t linger on her body but headed straight for the dip between her legs. Stele’s body rose to a crescendo and the tension in her arms and over her whole body reached its peak and exploded. The purple haze ran through her in a cacophony of starbursts. 

Ariane was in a similar place, and she felt the echo of herself in Ariane’s mind as she went over the edge. Stele’s thoughts spiraled as she thought of nothing but Ariane. They were each like a set of musical notes that intertwined and played a harmony that was so much more than the notes alone. She blinked to hide the tears, but there were just too many and they ran freely down her face. 

Ariane wiped the tears away with her fingers. “I understand. You’re home, and I love you.” 

Stele had come completely undone, and Ariane was the only person who would know that. 

* * *

Nero ©2021 by Valden Bush

Published by Butterworth Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

VALDEN BUSH has followed lesfic for years. Reading all those books got her wondering if she could do it too. Valden is a keen Zwift racer and can be found puffing her way up various hills most days. She lives near Bournemouth with her wife of over thirty years.

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ROSEMARY BY NAT BURNS

Blurb:

In this highly anticipated second book in The Desert Willow Series, the Grey aliens are back and Lily Dawson, the government liaison to the Interdimensional Beings who protect Earth, is called back into action. Only this time, it is her half IDB daughter, Birdie, and another hybrid teen, Rosemary, who will be called upon to create a treaty to save Earth from certain destruction.

Soon life is further complicated by an unknown earthly threat, a human, who seeks revenge. Will Lily be strong enough to deal with the consequences of protecting the Earth from the Greys? Is she willing to give up everything she loves to protect her home planet and fulfill her duties as a government liaison? Only time will tell, and time is swiftly running out.

Rosemary follows The Liaison in The Desert Willow Series.

Tell us about this scene:

In the course of this book, the baby birthed at the end of The Liaison ages ten years for every two and this scene shows both mother and daughter trying to understand the un-understandable.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

In the course of this book, the baby birthed at the end of The Liaison is aging ten years every two years and her mother, Lily, is slowly understanding that she will miss her daughter's childhood and teen years. No proms, no learning to ride a bike, etc. I like this scene because it is so touching as everything changes between them, except the love.

* * *

Excerpt:

Silence fell heavy in the car. Lily blinked repeatedly to try to clear the spots she was still seeing. “Hunter? Hunter, do you see?”

Hunter, sensing her alarm, swiveled in her seat. She gasped.

“I’m so sorry, Mummy,” Birdie said. She was absently pulling at her shredded clothing as she stared tearfully at her mothers.

“She’s so…so beautiful,” Hunter whispered in amazement.

Lily took in a deep, trembling breath as she unlocked her seat belt. “Oh, honey. It’s okay. It’s nothing you did.”

She checked traffic, which was oddly sparse at the moment, and stepped from the car, holding onto it, moving around to her daughter’s side to open the door. “Let’s get you some clothes. Hold on.”

She opened the back hatch of the SUV and rifled through her suitcase. She came up with a pink tank top and a pair of shorts, plus a sports bra and panties. She handed a beach towel across the back seat. 

“Here, Birdie hon, wrap up in this, and come back here with me,” she said.

Birdie soon stood next to her mother. She was slightly taller than her mom now. Lily reached up and, using her thumbs, brushed the girl’s tears away. “Look at you,” she said, smiling warmly, their gazes comingling. “How does it feel to be so grown up?”

Birdie’s fragile smile was a wren with a broken wing as she murmured her answer. “Kinda weird, Mummy. Kinda weird.”

Hunter opened her door, letting in some fresh, calming air, as Lily helped Birdie dress under the cover of the beach towel. Moments later, she was able to fold the towel and place it atop their suitcases. 

Lily studied her daughter, marveling at the transformation. Birdie was now a good five foot ten and, though thin, looked the picture of health. Her hair was even more white-blond than before and was a good six inches longer. It fell in a straight silvery waterfall along both sides of her heart-shaped face. Wide cheekbones gave her something of an exotic air, but the crystal blue eyes above those cheekbones were all American. Swedish American maybe, but not overly foreign. Her lips were full and rosy, the lower lip more full than the upper, which led to a cute pout of her resting face. 

Those lips spread in an embarrassed smile as she acknowledged her mother’s interest. 

“How do I look?” she asked, nervously catching that full bottom lip between gleaming straight teeth.

“Perfect, almost too perfect,” Lily replied with a deep sigh.

“I think it must be time for more knowledge,” Birdie said in a new, slightly deeper voice. “I guess I needed to be older.”

Lily hugged her arms about her own waist. “I guess,” she agreed absently.

“Everyone okay back here?” Hunter asked, tentatively approaching them.

Birdie looked at her Hunny with sad eyes, so Hunter immediately drew the young woman close, cupping the silver-haired head against her shoulder with one hand, no longer an easy feat when Birdie was so much taller. “It’s all good, baby bird. It’s all good.”

They stayed that way for a long beat as Lily repacked the cargo area and closed the hatchback. When Birdie stepped away from Hunter’s embrace, they continued holding hands and Hunter led Birdie back to her seat. 

“It’s burned,” Birdie said sorrowfully as she spied the area where she’d been sitting. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“No problem!” Hunter said. “Let’s just get in on the other side.”

Once Birdie was settled, a subdued set of parents climbed into the front seats, each thinking about this new circumstance and how all three of their lives would be affected by it.

* * *

Rosemary ©2023 by Nat Burns

Published by Bella Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bella Books

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Nat Burns is a retired editorial systems coordinator—managing computer systems and editing medical journals—who now writes novels. She is also a columnist/music editor for Lesbian News magazine. Rosemary is her sixteenth novel. She lives in New Mexico with her partner Chris and an aging cat named Boo

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THE HELION BAND BY AJ MASON

Blurb:

Rose’s only crime was to show kindness to her royal mistress…

Now she’s a fugitive, fleeing from Queen Penthesilea, aided only by the mysterious bracelet that was a scornful gift from her merciless ruler. Rose lives in uncomfortable symbiosis with it, ignorant of its origins and potential. All she knows is that if Penthesilea catches her, she’s as good as dead.

Now Queen Penthesilea knows what she gave away in error—an ancient treasure which imbues its bearer with powers and abilities beyond imagining—she must get it back. Without the Helion Band, her throne and life are on the line.

When Rose’s feelings for the dashing captain Vash Munro intensify, she’s faced with a choice; leave Vash behind and keep running alone, or trust Vash with her secrets and run together.

Relentlessly pursued across the galaxy by an increasingly desperate Pentesilea, will Rose find the strength to take a stand or will she fall to the queen and lose everything?

Tell us about this scene:

Rose is being relentlessly hunted by the evil Queen Penthelisea, and it's time to run again. This scene joins Rose telling her lover, Captain Vash Munro that she's leaving.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I chose this particular scene because it's a pivotal moment between Rose and Vash. Faced with the impending threat of Penthe's arrival, Rose's instinct is to flee as she has always done. Vash's passionate reaction forces Rose to re-evaluate herself at the deepest level. It won't be the last time she does so, and her self-actualisation is central to the book. It also shows how their relationship gives her the strength to change.

* * *

Excerpt:

"Can you hear that, Rose?" 

Rose listened, her knuckles white on the arm of the chair from gripping it so tightly. The children’s voices were coming now from the landing above, and she could hear light footsteps running up and down. "I don’t underst—"

"I'll make it really simple for you. I don’t care that you are an Ak. You’re just Rose to me. But your Queen Insanity and her ships have entered this system." Vash tapped at her comms unit. "That message was from Central Command. They’ve just received intelligence that she’s been tearing up half the galaxy looking for something, and they’ve recalled my ship for immediate military service." 

"I know, but—"

"We both know that something is you, Rose…and we both know that if she can’t find you, she’ll wreak havoc here as well." 

Vash was right of course. Penthe would stop at nothing to find her. Before she could speak, Vash stepped forward and thumped her fist on the table.

"Those kids outside that you love so much, they’re going to die. That nice grocer who gets your favourite cheese, he’s dead as well." Vash pressed her palm to her forehead. "To be brutally honest, it’s not looking good for me either, unless I run with you. And no, before you ask, that isn’t something I'm willing to do." 

Tremors ran through her. She’d never seen Vash like this. Her arm was burning. How long would it be before something happened? How much worse was this going to get? With a whimper, she fruitlessly tried to burrow backwards out of her chair and held up a hand in defence as Vash moved closer.

"And if that’s all okay with you, Rose, you’re not the woman I thought you were. Just fuck off. I'll do my best to clear up the stinking bilgeslime that you’ve left us all in!" Her eyes bulged with anger.

Rose’s chair tipped and dumped her on the floor. One of her fingernails broke as she tried to drag herself away. "I’m sorry. I don’t want people to die, Vash. That’s why I'm leaving. She’ll follow me and leave you all alone." The argument was pathetic. "Please, Vash, don't!" She lifted her arm in defence.

Vash pulled up, as if Rose had landed a blow. She stood still for a few seconds, staring at the wall behind Rose. Then, breathing heavily, she hunkered down.

"No, you’re running away because you’re afraid. I get that, but this bitch is going to keep on looking for you. She’ll continue to kill or maim anyone that gets in the way of finding you." Vash ran her fingers through her hair. "So, I have one simple question, Rose. Are you just going to let her do that, again and again, or are you going to stand and face her?" 

Everything Vash said was the truth. Rose was spineless, and she hadn’t wanted to admit it. Tears ran down her face, and she made no attempt to stop them. "I’m not brave like you, Vash. I can’t fight back," she whispered, shivering uncontrollably. "You’re all better off without me." 

"I think it takes a lot of bravery to say that out loud." 

There was sincerity in Vash’s eyes. "I’m just a coward, aren’t I?" 

"No, you’re not. You’re scared out of your skin." Vash sighed. The last vestiges of anger drained from her face and were replaced by weariness. "And I shouldn’t have shouted like that, I’m sorry." 

Vash stood and reached out. She gently pulled Rose to her feet, her hand warm and comforting.

"You really feel strongly about this, don’t you?" Rose continued to tremble. Vash’s anger had shaken her more deeply than she’d anticipated. She dealt with aggressive customers all the time, but the flash fire of Vash’s temper had triggered long-buried memories of Penthe at her worst. Some part of her yearned for refuge, for time to recover.

Vash cupped her face. "I know it all feels impossible, but that’s why you have me. You won’t have to face her alone. Believe me, this Penthe is going to seriously regret the day she picked on my girlfriend." She smiled encouragingly. "So?" 

Rose’s legs refused to stop shaking and the room was blurred. Only Vash’s face, calm and steady, stayed in focus. She concentrated on it and drew on its strength. She hadn’t felt like this since the day she escaped from Penthe. That had been the right thing to do. She needed to trust that this was too. Somehow, with Vash, she thought it was. The band had calmed again too. Did it agree? "I’m coming. You’re right. If I’m going to die at Penthe’s hands, I don’t want to gift her my back for a bullet." 

"We’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that." Vash winked. "But I know what you mean. Now, get some stuff together. The briefing is in a couple of hours." 

Vash wrapped her in a fierce hug and kissed her deeply. Lifted onto her toes in Vash’s strong, capable arms, she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

* * *

The Helion Band ©2022 by AJ Mason

Published by Butterworth Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

AJ MASON lives in London. In her spare time, she enjoys playing (and even sometimes winning) strategy boardgames, and keeps tropical shrimp. Her writing reflects a lifelong love of science fiction, fantasy, and horror.

Sign up here for AJ Mason ’s author newsletter.

CATNIP BY VYRIA DURAV

Blurb:

For all his life, Sol has believed he's only worthy of affection as long as he's useful--and he intends to prove his ultimate use by restoring a colony on Venus as a new home for his friends and lovers. But upon arriving, he realizes there's more here than he bargained for. For one, the resident artificial intelligence wants to make friends with him. For another, the nanites want to completely change his body... and in the process reveal her true self. Stuck (or perhaps blessed?) with a new form, she must find out what it means to live, to be loved for who she is rather than her work.

Catnip is a space exploration novel about a trans woman's journey to find herself and what it means to be loved for who she is, with the help of her polycule and a lesbian AI.

Tell us about this scene:

Callie has finally accepted herself as a trans woman and confessed her feelings to Alexis, the demigirl AI who has been helping her navigate Venus, who reciprocates. They've slept together once and this scene is them sharing an intimate moment in a shower.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I felt confident in my ability to portray lesbian love from a flirting and dating standpoint, but had some hangups about depicting intimacy. This was the first time I've been able to write lesbians having sex and I'm very proud of how it turned out. Sex isn't necessary for love, as ace folks can attest, but it can be an important component for those who feel sexual attraction and I wanted to show that with these two as they grew closer.

I'm very much a discovery writer and I was pleasantly surprised that having Callie take the lead as she guides Alexis along felt natural and fitting. This scene has a bit of awkwardness, because I don't think everyone dives into sex with complete confidence, and I think showing that awkwardness and figuring out what works together is wonderful. These are two women with complicated pasts that made it harder for them to connect with what they want and now they can have that with each other in a way that lets them be vulnerable yet safe.

I'm always going to have a fond spot for this scene as it was the first I felt truly proud of when it comes to depicting sexual intimacy and I'm really glad it resonated with fans of the book.

* * *

Excerpt:

At first, we shuffled awkwardly in the shower. The nerves that had vanished the night before returned briefly and it took a little moving around to figure out where we could stand so that both of us could enjoy the warm water. I lathered up with some soap and pressed against Alexis, running my hands along her sides and back, giggling as my chest pressed into hers. She looked down at me with kind and gentle regard as she turned me around and ran her hands through my hair, massaging my scalp as she washed and conditioned it. I wiggled involuntarily as her hands tickled my feline ears and then let out a delighted sigh as I leaned back and let her pamper me.

I could feel her, the hard length of her pressed against my butt and her soft breasts against my back. I moved against her, receiving a yelp of surprise for my troubles. Her hands slowed and grew uncertain as I distracted her with mischievous glee. Toying with her was entirely too much fun, I could see why Selene had done the same in our times together. Alexis let out a frustrated moan as I pulled away, only to gasp as I turned around and pulled her close, running my hands along her back. 

We kissed passionately amidst the falling water, reveling in the joy of soft skin on soft skin. I reached up and returned her earlier gesture, running my hands through her hair as she stooped down slightly. Her moans of contentment filled me with warmth like I was wrapped in a comfortable blanket. Looking down, I could see the effect I was having on her and I reached a hand down and guided her into me, enjoying a reprisal of last night. She took the lead this time, but gently. I let myself be swept away in sensation, loving how right and wonderful it all felt. My mind went blank as awareness collapsed into this singular experience. A lady could get used to this and I lamented, for just a brief moment, all the years I’d spent being unable to enjoy this. Alexis picked up her pace and I ceased to care about all that, being far more caught up in my responses. Ah, what bliss~

* * *

Catnip ©2022 by Vyria Durav

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Vyria is a white trans woman from the US who enjoys writing queer science fiction and fantasy stories, particularly transfem and lesbian works. She loves to read, enjoys cooking, and gaming.

QUEEN BY J.S. FIELDS

Blurb:

Nobody leaves Queen. On the tidally locked planet, a vulva and an authority problem are the only immigration requirements. Emigration is banned.

Ember spends her days cruising Queen’s endless sand dunes, hunting sand pirates and wallowing in memories of her dead wife. After an ambush, Ember is dragged to the pirate camp and learns her wife’s biggest secret—before her death, she’d joined the pirates, built an illegal spaceship, and plotted to leave the planet.

Ember, Nadia, and the sand pirates must take back the planet and expose the corrupt New Earth mining. Taming giant beetles, wrestling stinkhorn fungi, and enlisting Queen’s rabbit population in a high-stakes aerial battle are just part of the hijinks that will determine Queen’s fate as a galactic player, as well as the futures of all its conscripted inhabitants.

The newly minted outlaws must also grapple with Queen’s narrow concept of “womanhood” and where trans and intersex people belong in its future.

Tell us about this scene:

Having just tamed giant beetles, Ember and the crew attack the New Earth flyers in an attempt to take back control of the planet. This scene is mid-attack, as they are trying to regroup.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Throughout the book Ember struggles to come to terms with her wife's death. In this scene, towards the end of the first book, she is finally ready to move on both from the planet Queen, and from the ghost of her wife. I love the emotions in this scene, the tension of mid-battle, and the sensory information we get from Ember that encompasses both her feelings, and the taste of the world around her as it crumbles.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Mind if I ride too?” Asher, with a split lip and a partially blackened eye, gazed up at her. She’d lost her cowl and envirosuit jacket and stood, shivering, at Snuzzle’s toes. 

Ember had to think hard about her next words. She almost immediately said no, we’re full up, but A) they weren’t full up; there was space for at least three more behind the last scientist, B) having Asher spooned behind her made her belly twist in a way that no longer felt like it violated Taraniel’s memory, and C) Asher would be a very good guilt distraction.

“Scoot back a bit,” Ember said over her shoulder to the scientist behind her. The line dutifully moved back without a grumble, likely because of terror and trauma and being half-frozen. Ember offered Asher a hand once she was halfway up a beetle leg, which Asher took though Ember doubted she needed it. Even through the gloves Asher’s hand felt warm, which was clearly all in Ember’s head, but she didn’t care. 

“Where do you want me to hold?” Asher asked. Her voice came out low, matter-of-fact, but right by Ember’s left ear. 

The scientist had been holding on to her shoulders. Ember didn’t even contemplate her response. “Around my waist.” 

Asher’s hands found her hips, glided over the leather, then locked together just under her navel. She felt the mella’s breath on her neck, hot, humid, and a little too fast. Very hot, in fact. It stung the skin of her neck and made the rest gooseflesh. Ember leaned back, just enough to feel Asher’s chin on her shoulder. 

“Warmer?” Asher asked without inflection. 

“Shut up.” Ember told herself not to grin. It didn’t help. 

“No,” Asher whispered. 

“We’re responsible for a lot of death,” Ember said, which was definitively a mood killer. 

“Did you shoot down the beetles?” Asher asked. 

Ember scowled. “No. But I put the scientists on the beetles.” 

Asher pushed forward until her lips touched Ember’s ear. “You didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t fire the shots; you didn’t aim the weapons.” 

“Tara—” Ember started to argue. 

“Is a problem we have to deal with. Later.” 

Ember was tired of later, and losing arguments sucked. She turned her head to the side just as Asher pulled back. 

“Dr. Schmitt?”

Ember kissed her. It was one part reckless abandon and twenty-seven parts a need for human contact that wasn’t Nadia. Asher didn’t pull away and leaned in enthusiastically while scientists grumbled behind them. 

She tasted like salt, and wind, and sand. One of her hands slid from Ember’s waist to her left breast and cupped it. Ember covered Asher’s hand with her own, and Ember let the dead scientists, and the upcoming spaceship, and all the blood slide into the corner of her mind. Just for a moment. Just for one fucking moment. She felt warm. The way Asher kept nipping at her lower lip made her warm in a lot of places. 

Also, she felt happy. 

When the last scientist had mounted, Tara turned the flyer north, changed the track lighting to solid green, and went back to the sky. Ember reluctantly pulled from Asher, though the mella snuck a lingering kiss onto Ember’s jaw as she retreated. 

“I love a person in uniform,” Asher whispered. She tugged at the collar of Ember’s envirosuit. 

Ember bit down on her lower lip and smiled. 

* * *

Queen ©2022 by J.S. Fields

Published by Ninestar Press

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from NineStar Press

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

J.S. Fields is a scientist who has spent too much time around organic solvents. They enjoy roller derby, woodturning, making chainmail by hand, and cultivating fungi in the backs of minivans.

DISTANT GARDENS: TEN STORIES OF EXPLORATION, BIODIVERSITY, AND FOUND FAMILY BY N.L. BATES

Blurb:

Rules were made to be broken.

From terraformed outposts to magical realms, journey to worlds where deadly plants, rampant biodiversity, or failed colonies have created irresistible opportunities for those brave enough to seize them.

New worlds, found family, mystical secrets, and deadly science weave together in this lesbian-centric anthology focusing on a very different kind of first time—a first encounter with a world, or being, entirely unlike our own.

If you like diverse stories with lesbian heroines practicing science, magic, and seduction, buy Distant Gardens today!

Tell us about this scene:

Anna is immune to radiation, so nuclear waste cleanup is just another day ending in "Y"—except when the cleanup site is a hundred-plus feet underwater. So of course she’s sent to retrieve a source of radiation from an ecologically fragile kelp forest. Driving the submarine is fellow superheroine and old crush Chris Carlysle, who just so happens to have lots of experience scuba diving... and a very form-fitting wetsuit.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

“Radiant,” like all of the stories in Distant Gardens, was a labour of love from start to finish. I love the off-kilter and often ridiculous characters of superhero stories, but I also wanted my story to be a little more grounded. So I built the world of “Radiant” around something I wish we saw more of in speculative fiction: a timeline where the climate crisis came knocking and the world stepped up to the plate. The world of “Radiant” is—mostly—a greener, cleaner world than ours. But it’s not that way because of superpowers or some other deus ex machina. It’s because the characters in that world fought back. And they're still fighting; climate equilibrium has to be actively maintained. That’s what Anna’s job is all about.

“Radiant” was also one of my first forays into writing romance. Stories that had a bit of romance in them, sure, I’d done a little of that. But this was my first time writing a story that was romance by structure, married (heh) to a superhero story in a way that let the interpersonal elements of both genres shine.

One of my favourite parts about the relationship between Anna and Chris is just how inept Anna is at navigating her own attraction. She knows she’s into Chris, she’s pretty sure Chris is into her, and she still has a tendency to blurt out something ridiculous whenever Chris so much at looks at her. She may technically be a superhero, but Anna is the least suave person on the planet.

So why this scene in particular? It has all of the things I love about this story as a whole: superhero shenanigans, seascapes, climate optimism, and Anna being hopelessly awkward around the woman she’s not-so-secretly in love with. The only thing missing is a toaster. But don’t worry, the rest of the story has more of those than anyone expected.

* * *

Excerpt:

The plan was simple: Find where the radiation was strongest in their twelve-kilometer zone, locate the uranium, and stuff it into a radiation-rated barrel where it couldn’t contaminate the marine life. Then haul it back to shore for processing. Easy.

“Anna,” Chris said. “The radiation readings are getting stronger the farther west we go, and there’s a magnetic field near the peak. It’s probably a product of the radiation. Take a look.”

Anna leaned in for a better look. Chris’s body radiated heat. A superpower, or something else? Was it a faux pas to ask a co-worker on a date while you were still on the job? 

“Focus,” Chris whispered in her ear.

Anna focused. The map showed green lines and navy ones—kelp forests and currents, maybe?—and some shifting black lines that Anna didn’t understand. One set of numbers immediately caught her attention: the radiation in some spots was almost double what it had been an hour ago. Geographic indicators stained the blue ocean an ominous purple.

 “Is this real-time data?” Anna asked.

“Pretty close.” Chris blew out a sigh and leaned back. “This is probably our target, but let’s be sure. Any chance it could be naturally occurring?” 

“Not if it’s uranium-235,” Anna said. “There wouldn’t be nearly this much of it.” She looked at the readouts again and shook her head. “We’re in trouble. It shouldn’t be decaying this quickly.” 

Chris’s eyebrows twitched. “Will it...explode?”

“Maybe. The trick is to walk away before something explodes,” Anna said. 

She’d meant it as a joke, but Chris looked at her like she’d actually said something impressive. Anna shrugged. “The radiation can’t hurt me, so…” 

“You do have a neat bag of tricks,” Chris remarked. 

“Aheh,” was the best that Anna could manage.

Chris fiddled with her ring. “I’m struggling with this. I’m doing my PhD in electromagnetism. Water is a coolant. It should make the uranium less reactive.” 

“The uranium could be in a waterproof casing,” Anna suggested. “We’ll just have to go and look for ourselves.”

“I thought you said it might explode? I’d rather not get blown up.” 

“We aren’t going to get blown up,” Anna said. “I’ve just never done an underwater cleanup before.”

“You’re not helping.”

Anna tapped the navigation and redirected the submarine towards the radiation peak, which was in the middle of a kelp forest—a forest returning no abnormal readings whatsoever from the planted ‘trees.’ The radiation might have been hard on the fish, but the kelp appeared to be flourishing. “We should hurry. The ecosystem won’t withstand that level of radiation for very long… although I really can’t explain the kelp. Maybe it’s broken firmware in the kelp sensors? But the last readout is from just a few seconds ago.” 

“On it,” Chris said. She walked away from the controls, towards the back of the sub.

Anna turned to ask, “What’s our ETA?” but the words dried in her mouth when she saw Chris’s clothes discarded on the deck. Belatedly, she realized that Chris was pulling on a wetsuit, a slate blue number that perfectly accentuated her eyes. It accentuated a lot of other things, too—like the curves and lines of her hips, which Anna remembered watching—admit it—as Chris had walked past her that day in Tofino. Even with the ring and the banter, Anna wasn’t sure where casual nudity fell on the ‘flirty’ spectrum. 

“ETA is about twenty minutes,” Chris said. Anna tried not to follow the zipper with her eyes as Chris casually secured a flap across her bust. “I know you’re doing the dirty work, but I wanted to be ready for a quick deployment. You’ll want to get changed too.” 

“Um.” 

Chris’s right cheek dimpled when she smiled. “You didn’t have to look.” 

For God’s sake, say something. Anna blurted: “What if I didn’t know how to get into it?” 

Maybe not that, idiot. 

But Chris’s grin broadened, and she winked. “All you had to do was ask.” 

Anna only managed to stop herself from wondering out loud if that was a double entendre by saying, all in a rush, “it’s a good thing we got the good submarine.” 

“What?” Chris’s brow furrowed, but her smirk didn’t entirely fade. 

“The good submarine. I mean. The ones that can’t be hacked. That weren’t hacked.”

“Oh, you mean the Siimes thing?” Chris’s expression shifted from bemusement back to just amusement. “Supposedly she needs hardware access to do that stuff. And I doubt they’re giving her computer time in jail anymore.”

“I… yes. Well. We should hurry.”  

Her face felt hot enough to boil water. Anna retreated to the bathroom.

* * *

Distant Gardens: Ten Stories of Exploration, Biodiversity, and Found Family ©2021 by N.L. Bates

Published by Space Wizard Science Fantasy

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

N.L. Bates is a Canadian author of science fiction, fantasy, and slipstream stories, and is the moderator of the long-running critique group Reading Excuses. When not writing stories, she enjoys biking, dancing, and tabletop RPGs. She also writes and performs music as her alter ego, Natalie Lynn.

THE FLAW IN LOGIC BY S. Y. THOMPSON

Blurb:

Science fiction and fantasy collide as this romantic adventure follows Command R'cey Hawke, bounty hunter. R'cey hails from the technologically advanced Amalgam. Her mission to an archaic world is to apprehend a vicious criminal. What seems a simple retrieval goes askew when her vessel crash lands. With no alternatives, R'cey throws in with a small group of locals possessed of some pretty wild ideas. On this epic journey, R'cey discovers that golems, imps, harpies and most of all magic do exist. Logic is out the window.

Tell us about this scene:

R'cey Hawke believes in science, but crashes into a planet where magic reigns supreme. She falls for a princess as they both work to pursue the same criminal, globe-trotting across a mystical world where danger lurks around every corner.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I chose this excerpt from The Flaw in Logic because I believe it most accurately reflects what I most appreciate about writing lesbian literature. Through the world of fiction, I’m free to explore my love of science as well as explore the possibilities magic presents. Action adventures with these futuristic and mystical settings allow me to weave a connection between my characters that transcends superficial connections. Survival, heartbreak, and triumph all work in conjunction to bring different people together in a way that allows them to accept strength as well as faults. To see each other as whole beings who aren’t perfect, but who are perfect for them. Even the mysteries and paranormal tales I write have these same goals always at the core.

As I write, I try to keep the readers in mind. I want to create something that entertains and reaches into the reader’s soul, that truly touches them. I think about what I like in certain stories and how images created make me feel. I want to do the same for others and provide just a few hours of entertainment, maybe provide a laugh here or there. Anything that will make someone’s day a little brighter and provide them an escape from real life, if only for a short time.

* * *

Excerpt:

The ground shook, and the sound of many footsteps reached R’cey’s ears. Aamon probably had his entire legion headed their way. The exit led them away from the evil tide. R’cey grasped Thalia’s hand and urged her to run as quickly as possible. Here, the tunnels proved sparsely lit. The air stank of rot and decay. R’cey gagged once, but wrested her responses under control. They dodged down tunnels that led downward and backtracked from ones that led higher into the mountain. R’cey began to feel she’d lost her way in the maze of corridors until she saw a lessening in the darkness up ahead.

She halted at the edge of a long, incredibly narrow rock bridge. The catwalk extended over a massive chasm. R’cey couldn’t detect the bottom of the pit. Whether that was due to the darkness or the depth, she had no idea. Regardless of the danger, it was the sole way out.

“It’s only wide enough for one of us at a time. Let me go first.”

Thalia cast a worried look over her shoulder. Aamon’s army had yet to show, but both knew that would change soon. “For what reason?”

“Because this is too easy. I smell a trap.”

“I smell nothing.” Thalia sniffed the air to demonstrate her point.

“Don’t be so literal. Take the knife. If I fall, you won’t be completely defenseless.”

R’cey pressed the boline into Thalia’s hands without awaiting a response. She started across at a jog. R’cey did her best to stay in the center, but held her arms out to help balance just in case. She heard Thalia’s lighter footsteps trotting along behind. The sound gave her comfort until she heard the familiar stomp of the troll army. The ground began to shake from the impact. R’cey felt the vibrations in the soles of her feet. Aamon might have golems and imps on their tails too, but she couldn’t risk looking back. She had fatalistic images of imps swarming them just as the piskies had Aamon. The little beasts could easily force them to fall.

Halfway across now, there was no going back. R’cey started to think they might make it when she noticed movement from far below. Aamon rose into the air, riding Tempest. The down draft from raven-colored wings caused R’cey to stumble to a stop. The flying horse hovered before them like black death. A gout of flame erupted from Tempest’s nose.

R’cey stood directly in its path.

An instant before the blaze could take her, R’cey launched into a forward roll. Her shoulder struck the granite bridge hard. She kept moving despite the pain. R’cey flipped onto one knee and then brought both hands to bear. She channeled all of her pent-up frustration and anger, adding the love and worry she’d grown to feel for Thalia. The resulting blast of energy lit the cavern like daylight.

R’cey’s magic struck the rider directly over his evil heart. Aamon’s trident spun from his hands. The staff bounced off the stone ridge before dropping harmlessly into the chasm. The demon lord slipped from the saddle and grappled for a handhold. He made a desperate attempt to save himself, but couldn’t with half of his torso and one arm missing. His smoking, charred carcass followed the trident.

“How’d you do that?”

“It’s a long story. Run!”

Without the master to issue instructions, Tempest and Aamon’s legion froze. R’cey intended to take full advantage of the opportunity. Like a child afraid of the dark, she believed and prayed they’d be safe in the light. The army wouldn’t hesitate for long. She focused on reaching the tunnel exit.

R’cey bolted for the light and raced into the fresh air just as the sun rose over the horizon. Still, they could not linger. R’cey felt the impact tremors as the troll army drew closer. She pulled Thalia with her toward the stunted trees that grew close to the tunnel entrance. As they moved into the forest proper, the cover would become denser, but here they stood exposed.

A hand the size of a boulder shot out of the tunnel mouth and clutched at R’cey’s shirt. She yanked forward and the fabric ripped at the shoulder. R’cey expected the troll to exit the cave and tear her apart. She couldn’t believe what she saw next.

Warm light filled the ledge as the sun rose. A beam of sunlight struck the troll’s hand and a cry of pain echoed throughout the canyon as the creature howled. Right before her eyes, the troll’s hand turned to stone.

“R’cey, make haste. Imps and harpies will not be affected by the sunlight.”

R’cey couldn’t think of anything to say. She turned and ran, leading Thalia through the forest and toward the sea. Her shirt had torn near the spot where she’d tucked the pisky so she cupped the tiny thing. R’cey tried to protect the pisky as they dodged branches and hurdled obstacles. Shrubs and thorns snagged her clothing and scratched her skin, but she thought the managed to keep the little thing safe.

* * *

The Flaw in Logic ©2021 by S. Y. Thompson

Published by Flashpoint Publications

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

A decorated United States Marine and retired San Diego Deputy Sheriff, S. Y. Thompson dedicated her early life to public service. An on the job law enforcement injury pushed her into retirement. These days, Susan resides in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. The lush surroundings help fuel her creative side to pursue writing.

THRILLER

RETROSPECT: THE HIDDEN LIFE OF MAC SCOTT BY AJ FORTON

Blurb:

McKenna Scott is missing. She’s presumed dead. Perished. Out of her misery... Suddenly, she’s not. She’s alive! Existing. Viable, just about…

Two years after she vanished, Mac Scott stumbles into a London hospital. Scars encrust her body. She cannot tolerate the slightest physical touch despite her body aching for human connection. She has no memory of what happened to her. As Mac tries to ease herself into a life that now feels alien, she is consumed with grief and anger at losing the self-assured, fun-loving woman she once was. So she looks for help.

Enticing therapist, Alisha Cole, helps her retrieve shards of horrific memories and it soon becomes clear… Mac may be home, but she is far from free.

Using her scars and memory fragments like a road map, she investigates her disappearance and journeys through the perilous twists and turns of her own mystery. Unexpected love and an insatiable need to be freed from the evil which torments her, drives Mac to rediscover herself and find newfound fortitude.

Where has she been? Why was she captured? She’s about to find out. And then she will make them pay. Escape is just the beginning; Mac is going to raise hell.

Tell us about this scene:

Mac Scott has lost her memories after two years missing. Finally home, she is covered in scars and is terrified of human touch. In this scene, Mac is at long last being touched for the first time.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Because it's raw emotion and a scene I had been dying to write. You can't help but love your characters, and I got goosebumps when I finally made this happen. For me, for Mac, for Anna, and for every person in the world that sees themselves as unloveable.

* * *

Excerpt:

She is right there, her face mere inches from mine. 

“I take it back,” she whispers. 

Tingles enrapture me with dizzying power. Again, she stares intently at my face but this time with her so close, close enough to feel her breath tickle my lips, I am held hostage by her. She has bewitched me and I cannot move and… I don’t think I want to.

“Are you ever going to tell me why you do that?” I whisper.

“You are not ready for the answer,” she breathes and I see sadness highlight her deep green eyes and I frown; what I would give to read her mind just for a moment.

“Try me,” I encourage.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?” I ask anxiously. 

“Do you trust me, Mac?”

I hold her gaze and see the encouragement in her eyes, soft and warm. I don’t want to trust her, I don’t want to trust anyone ever again and yet, over time, somehow – she has made it impossible for me not to. I take a deep breath and I close my eyes. I feel the back of her hand stroke my cheek with feather-light touch and I flinch.

“Don’t be afraid. You are sat on my lap, remember? You can move whenever you want,” she says and I smile, despite the anxiety twisting in my chest.

Her fingertips trace the arch of my eyebrows and then down my nose, stroking the bridge between my eyes and my forehead. I feel her run her fingers through my hair, sweeping it out of my face and then she traces the hollow of my eyes with her thumbs, her palm resting across my cheek. My heart begins to burst with pleasure and pain, accelerating the beats and quickening my breath; the lump in my throat rises painfully against my will. I am being touched and it melts the icy loneliness that occupies me, it breaks away the walls encasing my heart, breathing life into it. I begin to gasp, my body trembling as I try to keep control of myself.

Anna holds my face in both hands, her hands completely still, sensing my fear and feeling my pain. I feel tears escape my closed eyes, they run down my cheeks hotly in the chill of the outside air, she wipes them away with her thumbs until I calm myself. One of her hands drops into my lap and she takes a hold of my hand. The other slides down my face, her fingertips resting on my jawline while her thumb slowly traces my lips. Through the pain my chest prickles with an excited thrill so potent it rocks me.

Anna’s hand leaves my face, it slides slowly over my ear, then I feel her fingertips trace the jagged scar across my throat and I choke on a sob. She holds the sides of my neck in her warm, soft hands and her lips find my forehead; she kisses it and then her lips move their way down the side of my face to my ear.

“There is nothing cringe about you, McKenna Scott. I stare because you are beautiful, I stare because I want you to see yourself through my eyes and not this broken vision you have of yourself. You see us as the light because you think that you are the darkness, but you are wrong, you are the fire that keeps us alight. You don’t drag me down, Mac… You wake me up,” Anna hisses passionately.

My eyes open, my breath comes out in strangled gasps of exhilaration and grief and she holds me steady; her arms wrap around me as the pain of a thousand hurts expel from me. She holds me tight to her and I no longer flinch at her touch, I pull her close, my face buried in her shoulder, my hand knotted in her hair. I breathe her in, making no attempt to hide my sobs; she smells incredibly sweet, like candy.

As her hand holds the back of my neck her fingers lightly caress it; flurries of tingles shiver down my spine. My face is buried in her shoulder, my breath is ragged as the tears flow and I turn my head, bringing my lips to her neck and I kiss it, just once and she shudders in my arms. Desire, the need to kiss her is burning inside me like hell fire but… I resist. It is only then I realise, while I have to stop myself from kissing her, that I am no longer scared to touch her, nor am I flinching away at her touch. The revelation hits me hard in the chest. I am dumbfounded by the sudden change and the bombardment of emotions that it brings. 

My hands are steady, they are sure. I hold her tight while my hand slides down her neck and onto her chest and I hold it curiously over her heart. I feel the beats against my palm, thunderous and booming, her chest heaving in and out breathlessly. I pull back from her, I can feel her watching me now as I run my fingertips up her forearms. How strange it is to be able to touch, strange and wonderfully astonishing. 

I slide my hands back down her arms and watch my own hands hold hers, my fingertips tracing hers and then I pull her hand up to my lips, kiss her fingertips and I laugh through the tears. I marvel at the ease in which I can touch her fearlessly; I relish in the emotion. Anna interlaces her fingers with mine and I smile as finally, I look up and I meet her gaze. Her eyes are blazing emerald green and glittering with tears; she smiles at me radiantly with pride, affection and wonder. 

“Thank you,” I choke. 

“Don’t thank me, it means so much to me that you trusted me and that… was, so beautiful to watch, to be a part of.” 

* * *

Retrospect: The Hidden Life of Mac Scott ©2021 by AJ Forton

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

AJ Forton is the author of Retrospect - the soon to be completed romance thriller trilogy. She strives to write scenes boldly, whether it be scorching sex scenes, or violence or brutal truth - her aim is to make you feel the pictures she paints in your mind. On top of this, she hopes to continue to bring strong LGBTQI characters to life with accurate representation.

Sign up here for AJ Forton ’s author newsletter.

STRANGE ATTRACTORS BY ANA K. WRENN

Blurb:

What happens when you teach chaos theory and life starts to mirror your lessons? The tiniest events transform the most driven woman in this beautifully written sapphic psychological thriller.

Fierce and frosty high achiever Professor Sonja J. Storey is on the verge of seizing power in her department. She has exacting plans to remake her backwoods North Carolina university, just as she has painstakingly remade herself.

Sonja’s perfectly ordered life takes a dramatic turn when she meets laid-back, magnetic junior professor Crystal Byrd.

But then come threatening notes, sinister emails, and shadowy nocturnal figures, and suddenly, Sonja’s controlled world starts to tremble like a butterfly in a storm.

Is someone out to get her? Is it a specter from Sonja’s past? It’s hard not to be suspicious of everyone, even intoxicating Crystal with her temptingly warm presence.

Seeing danger everywhere, Sonja must hunt down the source of the chaos before she loses her brilliant mind, and her chance at the one thing she’s never known—love.

Tell us about this scene:

Icy, self-reliant Dr. Sonja J. Storey prefers to tackle problems by herself, but when she receives a series of sinister messages, she grudgingly meets with Dr. Crystal Bryd, a junior professor recently targeted with a vile voicemail message, to see if they have a common enemy.

At Ridges, an upscale Southern restaurant and bar, Sonja soon realizes that Crystal may not provide the straight answers she's looking for.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Dearest Readers, “the Ridges” scene (from Chapter 8 of Strange Attractors, Ylva Publishing, 2022) is my favorite scene for several reasons.

For one, you're able to really taste the flavor, so to speak, of the two main characters in my debut novel: Drs. Sonja J. Storey and Crystal Byrd, professors at Western Highlands State University in the North Carolina mountains, United States.

For another, you get to sit with the tensions between these characters. Let me explain.

Having clawed her way out of an unstable childhood, Sonja now strives to control every aspect of her life. A full professor (the highest rank of professor), she retains nearly complete authority over her professional and private worlds.

At this point of the story, however, a series of mysterious and sinister happenings compromise Sonja’s rigid control. So, she meets with Crystal, a laid-back junior professor, at Ridges where she hopes to discover if they share a hidden enemy. Merely days earlier, Sonja had encountered Crystal in a restroom on campus (another delightful scene to write), and after an awkward exchange, she learned that the younger woman had gotten a threatening voice message, one disturbingly similar to a written note Sonja had found.

Could someone be stalking them both? Answering that question is the only reason Sonja has drinks with Crystal at Ridges. Or is it? (Oh, Reader, how fun it is for me to write a character’s conscious thoughts and intensions while knowing her layered unconscious ones. On the surface, Sonja is certain of everything, including her motives. She’s arrogant and armored up, largely out of necessity, as you’ll discover if you read Strange Attractors. It’s absolutely fabulous to plop a character like Sonja into the middle of chaos to erode that chilly, hard exterior and glimpse the true beauty and strength underneath it all).

Trying to pin down socially nimble Crystal proves vexing to control-hungry Sonja in this scene, and by the end of the evening, Sonja will suspect that the younger woman just might be the greatest threat to her, and for so many reasons. (Let me let you in on something, Reader: Sonja has no clue about Crystal’s true threat to her rigidly controlled life. And, yes, I’m grinning wildly as I write this).

As you gather, I had the best time writing this scene. There’s some cat-plays-with-bird/Byrd tension here—and Sonja is utterly convinced that she’s the cat. I loved serving up this deliciousness at Ridges! Not only did I delight in these two characters, but I savored their clashing and complementary vulnerabilities.

Thanks for hanging with me at Ridges for a quick bite of my debut sapphic psychological thriller, Strange Attractors.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Sure are a lot of naked women here.” Dr. Byrd drank her whiskey, craning her neck to look at the various bronze nude sculptures decorating the bar.

“Does that bother you?” Sonja asked.

The younger professor laughed, a honeycomb sound, intricate, golden, sweetness winding throughout “No, I don’t have a problem with nudity.”

“Why raise the issue, then?”

“You asked for it. Here’s my rant. Bars and restaurants try to class up a place with painted or sculpted tits and ass. But display the real thing? Unacceptable! By the way, I should warn you. I have a potty mouth. Hope I didn’t offend you, Sonja.”

Sonja debated correcting Dr. Byrd on the use of her first name, but she didn’t want to extend this interaction any longer than necessary.

“Back to your point. I like nudes. I just wish that I could live in a world where men didn’t profit from stripping down women. But when women do it to themselves? The horror!”

“Interesting, Dr. Byrd.” Sonja pushed her way into the woman’s monologue, intending to pivot the conversation, but her companion blocked her.

“Call me Crystal, please. People who have seen me sob are instantly promoted to first name basis. Unless they’re the ones who made me cry. Then fuck ’em, am I right?”

Sonja knew better than to answer a question that could lead her into a trap. She had written an entire section on that topic in Emotional Ninja. On the surface, questions seem like friendly inquiries, but they had a sinister purpose when employed by con artists and narcissists. Instead of answering, Sonja steered the conversation toward her meeting agenda.

“About that voice message. What have you uncovered?”

“Damn! You don’t waste time. Straight to the point. Kind of strange for a southern woman, especially a white one, but I like it,” Crystal replied, putting down her glass and running her hand along her thigh to smooth the crease in her storm-gray herringbone pant leg. 

Sonja toyed with the idea of correcting Byrd about her assumption that Sonja was a southerner, but she didn’t want to provide personal information if she didn’t have to. After all, Byrd didn’t need to know that Sonja had been born in Maryland, making her a nearly lifelong outsider in the South.

“The IT help desk has been zero help,” Crystal continued, apparently oblivious to Sonja’s half-hearted listening. “Guess that makes them the no-help desk.” She laughed at her joke. “All they’ve told me is that the bastard called from a campus phone. He sounded cis male and white to me, but that’s auditory profiling, so I’m uncomfortable…”

Sonja’s attention faded, and when she tuned back in, she had no idea what the assistant professor had been rambling about.

“…misogyny’s been normalized, racism casually expressed—”

“Do you have Corey Randalls in any of your classes?”

“What? Who?”

“Corey Randalls. Do you have him in any of your classes? Or do you know him in any other regard?” Sonja didn’t mention that she had already reviewed Randalls’s current classes and hadn’t found any obvious association to Professor Byrd.

“You give zero fucks for social niceties,” Crystal said, but her eyes sparkled. She leaned forward to retrieve her whiskey, gently swirling the amber liquor that matched the color of her eyes. “I’m glad I ended up in that bathroom for my meltdown.”

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude—”

“Yes, you do. But you should know, you don’t intimidate me. You remind me of some of my family.” Crystal drained the rest of her drink and raised the empty glass in the direction of the server. “Fine, Sonja. Seeing as how you have an agenda, here’s my offer. Drink your wine. Relax, if you’re able. And I’ll answer your questions.”

“Will you be having a second round, ma’am?” the server asked when he appeared. 

Crystal looked up at the waiter. “Call me Crystal. And your name? I’m planning on making this my regular spot, so I need to know.”

“Elliot, Ms. Crystal.”

“Nope, just Crystal. Another round, please, Elliot. My tab. And I’ll need a menu. I’m famished. You folks serve good burgers?”

Sonja sipped her pinot and assessed Professor Byrd: Figure-hugging pants softened with a mustard chiffon blouse and capped off with a pair of ankle boots. Hair shy of shoulder-length, warm chestnut in the low-lighting, natural, not straightened. Minimal eyeliner and mascara, no lipstick or blush. No jewelry other than a steel unisex watch.

Sonja drew two conclusions. First, Dr. Crystal Byrd added a certain flare to their hick town. Second, the woman wasn’t to be trusted. The newbie professor was overly amiable. And something else tickled at Sonja’s brain, but whatever hazy realization it was, it refused to reveal itself. She would figure it out later. Or maybe not, since this would be her last meeting with the woman. 

“Randalls, first name, Corey,” Sonja pressed after the server left. 

Crystal chuckled. “Deal’s a deal. You drink, I check.”

“Are you an alcoholic?” Sonja asked out of the blue.

“No. Are you?”

“No.” As soon as Sonja heard the bite in her tone, she knew she had lost the round.

“I should’ve asked before suggesting that we meet at a bar. Several of my friends and family are in recovery. I’m usually more sensitive than that. Now, let me check my courses. Randalls, Corey. Name doesn’t sound familiar.” Crystal laid her smartphone on the table and scrolled through digital rows of names.

Sonja’s silent assessment resumed as she took in the woman’s firm, smooth skin and bag-free eyes.

You don’t need to cover your flaws right now, Dr. Byrd. But wait. Youth is unfaithful. It will leave you soon.

Sonja drank deeply from her glass, as if she could wash away the sour taste of envy in her mouth. “Corey Randalls,” she prompted.

“You’re impatient.” Crystal looked up and flashed a smile even more beguiling than before.

Sonja returned it with a wilting stare, but Crystal didn’t react, not even a flinch. 

* * *

Strange Attractors ©2022 by Ana K. Wrenn

Published by Ylva Publishing

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy Direct from Ylva Publishing

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Academic and researcher turned writer, Ana K Wrenn lives and works in the Southern Appalachian Mountains.

Prior to being a professor and author, she worked various jobs, including housekeeping, horse-stall mucking, fast-food cashiering, and office managing.

Sign up here for Ana K. Wrenn ’s author newsletter.

THE CHILD RIDDLER BY ANGELA GREENMAN

Blurb:

Despite the angry scars she carries from her childhood training, Zoe Lorel has reached a good place in her life. She has her dream job as an elite operative in an international spy agency and she’s found her one true love. Her world is mostly perfect—until she is sent to abduct a nine-year-old girl.

The girl is the only one who knows the riddle that holds the code to unleash the most lethal weapon on earth—the first ever “invisibility” nanoweapon, a cloaking spider bot. But Zoe’s agency isn’t the only one after the child. And when enemies reveal the invisibility weapon’s existence to underground arms dealers, every government and terrorist organization in the world want to find that little girl.

Zoe races to save not only the child she has grown to care about, but also herself. The agency prescribed pills—the ones that transform her into the icy killer she must become to survive—are beginning to threaten her engagement to the one person who brings her happiness. Can she protect the young girl and still protect the one thing she cares more about than anything else?

Tell us about this scene:

Zoe and Isabel work in the same spy agency and have decided to move in together and get married. Zoe is an operative/assassin (the Wildcat) and Isabel is director of cyberwarfare. Easton, the agency director and Zoe's uncle, would be against them getting married and also Zoe’s transfer from Chicago to agency headquarters in Albuquerque where Isabel lives. Isabel wants children and is exploring IVF, but because of their 24/7 demanding jobs, Zoe thinks children is a bad idea. In the scene, they are in bed on a Sunday morning spending the weekend together.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

While I loved writing the action scenes for this thriller, the thought processes were more intellectual, and focused on the reality of the moment and the dangers—the adversary, the escape, the technology, and the success of the mission. It was more fun to delve into Zoe and Isabel’s psyche and emotions. Creating tension and complexities within their relationship, and the world they shared, excited me the most in crafting The Child Riddler.

I’ve always been fascinated by the power dynamics between couples. It especially intrigues me how two alphas, or two people who hold high-powered jobs, maintain a balance between their personal life and work. When you’re an alpha or one of the top dogs at work, you expect to be in control. Two alphas? Two top dogs? What do they do when they disagree on important life issues? How do they handle it?

Zoe is an alpha and Isabel is a top dog at the agency. This scene is my favorite because I think it shows the complexity that can exist in relationships. They are very secure in the intimacy they share, yet the outside world creates disturbances that bubble up into their safe cocoon. Zoe and Isabel are two very driven people who love each other and are trying to create a nest, but their drives are focused on different things. Zoe, her job. Isabel, wanting a family. I feel their relationship issues are pretty common. It’s all about how a couple handles it, and there are countless ways to do so. But because people and their lives are complicated, the imbalances don’t go away, they just seem to keep shifting. As a writer, getting into the mind of characters to reveal the reactive forces in their life that cause them to act a certain way is a challenge, but one that keeps me hooked and motivated until the end.

I wrote this scene in a hotel while on a trip. This scene is so special to me that I remember vividly how I hated to stop writing it each evening, and how I couldn’t wait to get back it the next day. I hope the readers enjoy this scene as much as I did creating it.

* * *

Excerpt:

Isabel returned with two steaming blue mugs and they sipped coffee under the sheets in peaceful silence. They sat with their arms touching and their toes wrapped around each other’s as if hugging. It seemed they always had to touch each other, like magnets.

“Zoe?”

“Yes, babe?” Isabel looked delectable with her tousled curls and her ivory plump breasts rising above the ruby-red sheets.

“Let’s go to city hall on Tuesday before the clinic appointment and get married. We don’t have to tell Easton or anyone. Let’s just do it.”

“What?”

“Why wait?”

“What’s the hurry? Getting married this week won’t change anything, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not? You can keep Empress, as I said. Lord knows, you need that outlet. I can deal with it. It’s a fetish, not a relationship.”

“No-no that’s not it.” Zoe held Isabel’s gaze to let her know she was serious. “It’s been only you since we committed to one another on your birthday weekend. You’re all I’ll ever need.”

Isabel blinked, her eyes watering.

Zoe said, “Baby, think about it. What’s getting married before I move in going to achieve? I’m still going to live in Chicago until Easton says otherwise. And we’re going to regret rushing our wedding ceremony because it won’t be the dream day we wanted. We’re going to get married. I thought we’d take the time to make it our moment of heaven we’d talk about forever.”

Setting her mug down on the nightstand, Isabel rested her hand over Zoe’s heart. Her voice deeper with passion, she said, “I love you.”

Warmth spread through Zoe. A special warmth, a deep tenderness that seeped into her every pore. Now she knew what it felt like when someone said their heart melted.

Putting her mug down, she laid her palm over Isabel’s heart and said with intensity, “I love you.”

Isabel grabbed Zoe from behind her neck and pulled her forward, kissing her with fervor.

Her delicious lips pressed, seeking to merge their souls.

Isabel’s vibrating phone bumped against a coffee mug on the nightstand. Ignoring the noise, she kept kissing Zoe.

Zoe broke their embrace. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

“Nope. I told my staff I wasn’t available until noon today. That’s three hours away. They can cope with whatever it is until then.”

Zoe handed the phone to her. “It could be Easton. You’d better check.”

With an exasperated click of her tongue, Isabel took the phone and read the text. “It’s Justin, one of my programmers. It’s nothing that can’t wait.”

She tossed the phone down. “Look, we’re dedicated to the job, I get that. But there are boundaries, and we’re entitled to some ‘family’ time. If we had kids, we’d have the right to a few hours on a Sunday morning to relax with them undisturbed. It’s time we start carving out this sacred time in preparation for being parents.”

“I wish it was that easy, but it’s not.”

“Sure, it is. You just do it.”

Aggravated, Zoe threw herself back on the pillows. She answered every call, no matter the time or place because when the devil raised his head, you took a shot. Isabel knew this, but in her desperation to have children, it seemed she’d turned a blind eye to the Wildcat’s existence.

Zoe grabbed Isabel’s upper arms. “For you, yes. But for me, no. I’m like my uncle. We hunt twenty-four hours a day. I’m the Wildcat, remember? When that phone rings, my heart starts pumping adrenaline instead of blood, my claws come out, and I leap to answer it. It’s time we got honest about children. It’s going to be enough of a struggle to be there for each other. I don’t see how in hell we can handle the responsibility. You told your staff not to contact you and they did anyway. That’s our life.”

Isabel pulled Zoe’s hands off her and clutched them in hers. “You’re not like your uncle. You made yourself who you are and you’re a badass with a caring heart. You’re an amazing person, and there’s nothing you can’t do. You’ll learn to be a parent—and you’ll be a wonderful one.”

Isabel laughed at Zoe’s dismayed expression and let her go. “Don’t panic. We’re not going to be alone in this. We have support options. We’ve got my sister Emma—she’ll be there for us. You know how she always wanted children. She’ll embrace ours as hers. We’re lucky she’s a nurse! And she’s only an hour away in Santa Fe. I also checked into headquarters’ daycare center and it’s a good one. We can get a live-in nanny. It’s going to be okay. You’ll be able to convince Easton to make it happen. And I’m confident once we’re living together, it’ll all work out.”

Zoe’s stomach knotted. Isabel’s biological clock had overdosed on speed and she’d turned into a locomotive going full-steam ahead on children.

Putting brakes on a racing train caused a lot of friction.

* * *

The Child Riddler ©2022 by Angela Greenman

Published by Bella Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bella Books

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Angela Greenman’s debut techno-thriller, The Child Riddler, was published by Bella Books in July 2022, and was selected as one of the best books of the year by BestThrillers.com. A communications expert, Angela’s career has included civil rights work and national and international governmental issues.

SUSPENSE

ALONG CAME THE RAIN BY ALISON R. SOLOMON

Blurb:

Whose memory do you trust if you can’t rely on your own?

Wynn Larimer has a terrible memory but doesn't believe she could have abducted two teenagers even though the police say they have irrefutable evidence that she did. Her partner Barker, is desperate to help Wynn, but she's caught in the middle, since the missing girls are her foster care clients. As Wynn and Barker struggle to uncover the truth, the two women discover life-changing secrets about each other that throw their lives into turmoil.

Tell us about this scene:

This scene comes toward the end of the book and takes place in the Guatemalan jungle. The narrator secretly tracked someone down and intended to fly back to the USA the next day without anyone knowing.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

When I wrote Along Came the Rain, all the characters came to me pretty fully formed. It was one of those surreal experiences where I just listened to what they had to say and watched where they were headed and wrote it all down. The whole time I was writing the novel, I didn’t know how it would all come together. And then, after I wrote this scene, I was so shocked by the turn of events that I literally ran into the kitchen and said to my wife, “you’ll never believe what happens in this book!”

Rain is in the title of the book and is a dominant theme, but what made it even crazier is that every time I did a book reading, it poured with rain! I was invited to a local book club which was meant to meet outdoors but we had to move inside because it was raining so hard. I did a book tour and the evening I did a reading at the Hudson Valley LGBTQ center, it rained so hard that the campground we were staying in flooded and had to be evacuated. A couple of years after the book came out, I was invited to do a reading in San Diego. And guess what? It rained so hard several people couldn’t get to the venue because the roads were flooded.

* * *

Excerpt:

After forty minutes, I still haven’t come across Parminder’s body. By now, the earth beneath me is so saturated that pools of water are starting to form, and I have to wade through them, or pick my way around them, which puts me further off track. The sky is black from the storm clouds pouring down rain and beneath the foliage where I am, it’s getting almost too dark to see. My heart is racing.  Panic is filling my chest almost as fast as the water is rising over the sodden fronds and leaves of the jungle. I have to get out of here, but I don’t know which way to go. The rain is still coming down in sheets and I can’t see a thing. I push helplessly in all directions, wishing I’d left the car lights on to guide me, wishing I’d thought a bit more about how I would get back to the car. Most of all, I’m wishing I never started any of this. 

I think back to when I was at the airport looking at the TVs overhead. Did they mention a tropical storm? I was so busy planning out everything that had to happen, I didn’t pay attention.

 I have to get back to the car—but right now that seems to be impossible. I will have to stay here throughout the night and hope that in the morning, the sun comes out and the rain stops. I’ll miss my flight, and will have some explaining to do, but I’ll figure something out. I always do. Right now, I need to find a place to sit. Climbing a tree and sitting on a sturdy branch would be ideal, but banana trees and birds of paradise aren’t conducive to that. I sit on the ground, but immediately a pool of water starts to form around me. I’m soaked through and shivering from the cold.

For the first time, I wonder what will happen if I don’t make it out of here. What will become of my beloved? Everything I did was for her. Will she know that? I never meant to harm her, only to keep her safe. But now, I can’t even keep myself safe. Like Parminder, I will drown, or suffocate, and no one will ever find me.

I have to get up. Somehow I have to find my way back to the car. I pull myself out of the water and push my feet out in front of me to keep walking. Sharp edges from the fronds of a banana tree spike me and as I turn around, my head hits a low-hanging branch.

My knees buckle.

I sink into the mud.

I’m losing consciousness. 

I know now that I will never hold my beloved again. I will never be able to tell her that everything I did was for her. I won’t be able to call her from the airport and explain what happened. She won’t receive a farewell letter expressing how much I loved her, telling her that our years together were the happiest of my life. 

There will only be silence. 

* * *

Along Came the Rain ©2019 by Alison R. Solomon

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Alison R. Solomon grew up in England and lived in Israel and Mexico before settling in the USA. She is the author of four suspense novels and has published short stories, articles, and chapters in numerous anthologies, textbooks, journals, and newspapers. You can find her at https://AlisonRSolomon.com.

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INDISCRETIONS (CARPENTER/HARDING 1) BY BARBARA WINKES

Blurb:

He’s closer than they think…

Ellie returns to the job after a vicious attack, determined not to make any more compromises. She wants to become a detective as soon as possible, and she wants Jordan, the star investigator in the Homicide unit. After nearly losing her life, she deserves that much, doesn’t she? Jordan’s life isn’t as perfect as it might look to a casual observer. In a dysfunctional relationship, she is struggling with her attraction to a younger colleague and what’s shaping up to be a nightmare case: A killer who abducts and tortures women he considers immoral. Another woman is missing, and now he has set his sights on one of their own.

They will stop him – whatever it takes...

Tell us about this scene:

Ellie joins Jordan at her apartment after work. Both of them wrestle with unsolved issues, hoping the other person could be the answer.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is a difficult, dramatic situation for both of them, but underneath all those complications the beginning of their love story is still visible. It's a make-or-break moment for their relationship, full of emotion and longing, about decisions and their consequences. I loved the intensity of it.

* * *

Excerpt:

Yes, she had known where this would lead all along, probably from the moment Jordan had given her the once over at the bar. Ellie remembered her gaze traveling up her legs, pausing a bit around the neckline of the low-cut top, meeting her eyes with an inviting smile.

Ellie had burned those clothes once she got them back from evidence. She wouldn’t let the sorry excuse for a man burn anything else in her life. She’d managed to hold Jordan’s interest as well. She was excited, and curious. She was finally feeling something again that didn’t make her want to scream—well, not that way, at least. It had to be a good sign.

When they walked up to the apartment building that housed Jordan’s home, she craned her neck, curious. The high rise held several condos that, she assumed, would be as modern on the inside as the outside suggested.

“This is pretty cool,” she said. “Did you rent or buy?”

“We rented, but the company wants to remodel the units and sell them by the end of the year. I guess we’ll have to make up our minds pretty soon.” Jordan’s tone made it clear this decision wasn’t a priority now. Her use of “we,” reminder of the third party, silenced Ellie. She took in the clean and spacious lobby, the elevators. The building had the vibe of a luxury hotel.

“It’s nice,” she finally said. Jordan shrugged.

“Thanks.”

Ellie studied her reflection in the mirror wall, a woman troubled, beyond attractive to Ellie, wearing a substantial weight on her shoulders. This wasn’t just about the consequences of what they were about to do, she realized. Ellie had been assigned to the case for a week only, and she could feel the tension in her body caused by the confrontation with those pictures and what they meant, every day. She’d seen her share of violence in her day job, but not every day. 

Nothing like this, a criminal deciding he should be judge, jury and executioner to the “crime” these women had committed in his twisted mind. It had to take a toll at some point.

Jordan opened the apartment door, and Ellie couldn’t help the “wow” that escaped her. From the granite countertop of the kitchen to the light grey sectional with the red pillows, it looked like something out of a catalogue. Every piece of decoration was tasteful and fit into the surroundings. In the dining area sat a massive wooden table with chairs around it, a modern light fixture overhead.

“You want a beer?” Jordan asked, heading for the fridge.

“Sure. Thank you. That means I owe you two.”

Jordan smiled before she opened a bottle for each of them. “Would you like a glass?”

“No thanks. This is fine.” Ellie sat on the barstool at the kitchen island, wondering what subjects were left for conversation. She could ask another question about the rent versus buy dilemma, but that would inevitably bring up the subject of the other person living here. It was obvious for someone looking around with a trained eye. She didn’t want to talk about the case anymore, at least not tonight. Jordan seemed okay with the silence, and so Ellie drank, faster than she maybe should have.

“Would you like another one?”

Ellie contemplated the question, which was harder than the trivial subject suggested. Jordan was standing close next to her, and when Ellie failed to give her an answer, she reached up to brush a strand of hair back from her shoulder, exposing her neck. Ellie shivered. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Here it began. She craved the touch of a person who would handle her body with respect. She wanted to do something about that warm, pulsing arousal, but all of a sudden, she wasn’t sure if this was the right way to go about it. Jordan kissed her, very softly, before her hands wandered down her shoulders, gently closing around her breasts. Ellie drew a sharp breath.

“Come with me?” Jordan’s tone was almost hypnotic, or so it seemed to Ellie. She could detect the uncertainty, the longing, interwoven with the unmistakable heat. If they both felt the same, would that count as an excuse?

In any case, Ellie was glad to escape the picture on the mantel, showing Jordan in the arms of another woman.

They sat down on the side of the bed, kissing with more urgency than before, starting to undress each other. The sound of the zipper of her skirt triggered an unwelcome flash of conscience.

Jordan, sensing her hesitation, sat back, waiting patiently.

“I can’t believe I…” No, that didn’t sound right. As she was struggling for the right words, Jordan pulled her own shirt back down.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away,” she said. “This…it’s a difficult time for you. I didn’t mean to take advantage.”

Ellie shook her head so fast the room was spinning. “No, no, that’s not it. It’s just that I’ve never been the other woman. I thought I was cool with that, and it seems that I overestimated myself.”

Jordan’s expression was pained. “Believe me, you’re not taking anything away from anyone. It’s hard to break something that’s already broken.”

This was by far not enough to be a justification, but Ellie decided she would take it. For all she knew, whatever happened, it would all be over once she went back to her division. They didn’t owe each other anything.

“I can drive you home,” Jordan said. “I didn’t even have a sip of anything.”

Ellie tugged on her shirt, hard, and the next moment, she was on top of her, letting her feel all of that gorgeous body of hers. Ellie gasped out loud before Jordan’s mouth was back on hers, and this was even while they still had most of their clothes on, boding well for the rest of the night.

* * *

Indiscretions (Carpenter/Harding 1) ©2015 by Barbara Winkes

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Barbara Winkes writes sapphic crime drama and Christmas romance. She loves writing characters who get the job done, whether it’s stopping a predator or saving cherished traditions—while still making time for love. She lives with her wife in Quebec City.

Sign up here for Barbara Winkes ’s author newsletter.

YOUNG ADULT / NEW ADULT

CATCHING FEELINGS BY ANA HARTNETT REICHARDT

Blurb:

As a sophomore, Andrea Foster doesn’t expect to earn the starting catcher position on the Alder University softball team. She’s used to blending in and leaving the spotlight for the likes of Maya Gonzalez, the team’s fiery ace pitcher. No one is more surprised than Andy when she’s named starting catcher and captain of the Alder Lions.

Maya was supposed to be captain, everyone says so. Instead, she’s forced to train with Andy every day, partners for everything, and she isn’t happy about it. But there’s something more than animosity building between them. Tough games, hard losses, and a memorable bus ride later, an undeniable attraction pulls Andy and Maya closer. Now they just need to rise above their differences and lead their team to the College World Series.

Tell us about this scene:

Andy has just been knocked out while playing catcher at an away softball game. Maya asks to sit next to her on the two-hour-long bus ride home. Things have been rocky between them before this point, and Andy's injury helps to bring them together again.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

When trying to think of which scene was my favorite that I’ve written, I immediately turned to this scene from Catching Feelings, sophomore year of The Alder Series. It’s a scene I can almost recite by heart, I’ve read it so many times. What I love the most about it is the crumbling of walls between the main characters, Andy and Maya. I can remember riding home from an away game in a dark bus and gathering the courage to lay my head on my crush’s shoulder, just like Andy did. I’m sure many of us made our first moves with “courage found in the dark.” This scene is a launching pad for Maya and Andy’s relationship and the rest of the book. It’s their quiet admissions that really get me.

* * *

Excerpt:

Maya reaches for my face. Her knuckles brush over the bruise on my jaw. It’s so tender, bruise and otherwise. “I’m so happy you’re okay.” She drops her hand in her lap. “Ugh, I wanted to kill that bitch. Coach Williams basically had to hold me back.”

I blame my concussion for the way her intensity over my accident makes me want to curl into her. Make her hold me. “Do you mind telling me what happened? That is, if you can tell me without bursting into flames of anger.” I nudge her shoulder and am rewarded with a sharp smile. 

“Don’t make fun of me. I can’t help it, okay? It’s like I care about you or something.” The words come with light chuckles but knead deep into me. 

“I care about you, too,” I say with no chuckle, no smile. I want it naked for her. 

She releases a heavy sigh, then continues. “My stomach just dropped. I knew you were unconscious. It was fucking terrifying. For like three entire minutes, you were gone.” She takes a deep breath. “Then you cracked open your eyes, and I just exploded with relief. Coach Williams pulled me away, but I still got to hear your little ramblings.” She grins like she knows a secret. 

“What did I say?” 

“You said, ‘my head is floating,’ and some nonsense about how pretty the trees are.” 

I laugh. “Did I say anything else embarrassing?” 

The driver starts the engine and cuts the blue and yellow lights, leaving us in darkness save a few emergency lights. 

“You said something about me.” 

My whole body drops through my seat. The millions of times I’ve thought about kissing Maya, touching Maya, about Maya naked rush through my mind. Oh my God. What did I let slip? 

“Relax, Andy. You look like I just told you that you peed your pants in front of everyone.” 

“What did I say, May?” 

“You said, ‘Maya. So pretty. So mean.’” 

Phew. Could’ve been way, way worse. I shake my head. “Oh God, I’m sorry. My brain is basically a pile of goo right now. I can’t be held responsible for anything I said out there.” 

She leans into me, her head bowed next to mine. “What if I want to hold you responsible?” she whispers. 

I can feel the tendrils of her hair tickle my cheek and the warmth of her words on my skin. “I only stand by half of what I said.” 

“Which half?” she asks.

I lean a little closer. “You know which half.”

“I’m not that mean, you know.”

My head feels impossibly heavy, and Maya smells impossibly good. Like earth and spice and home. And maybe it’s the courage found in the dark, or maybe it’s the fact that I can blame anything I say or do tonight on my concussion, but I close my eyes and lay my head against her shoulder.

“But you’re that pretty,” I whisper. 

Her nose and mouth skim over me, her lips dragging a sigh across my hair, sending hot and cold shivers down my body. Her hand comes to rest next to my knee, and I pray she finds the courage to touch me, too, because it’s just me and her tonight. All of the pressure, the intensity, and the boyfriend...they don’t exist right now. And as I sort through all the words I have for Maya, shapely words and possessive words, I feel my eyes begin to water. “Yesterday, when I said I missed you, I meant it. I miss you so much,” I say. 

She takes a moment, her pinky twitching against my knee. “I miss you, too.” 

“I don’t want to be a sleeve-tugger. Your fire and passion are my favorite things about you. I promise to never dim you.” 

She clears her throat. “Thank you.” 

“But I’m the captain. Stop stepping on my toes and let me do my job.” 

I feel the gentle chuckle against my hair. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“How are you so compliant right now? You hated me yesterday. And, like, so many other days, too.” I nuzzle into her shoulder, mumbling my words into the fabric of her sweatshirt. 

She takes a deep breath. “Because I don’t hate you at all. I like you. I like you...a lot.” I don’t ask her to clarify. I take those words to mean exactly what I want them to mean. “I hated how last semester ended. It left me feeling so weird and insecure,” she says. 

I lift my head from her shoulder, wrapping my fingers around her forearm and rubbing my thumb over the muscle. She continues. “I told you I needed space, but the truth is that I thought you needed space after those texts.” She looks at my hand holding her arm and swallows. “Um, so I tried to do that and was being dumb and in my feelings. But that was yesterday, and today, I watched you almost die. Or it felt like it, at least. So I want to be honest about how I feel. I don’t want space from you, ever. I want the opposite of space.”

I can’t help but smile. “The opposite of space? That would be a black hole.” 

“Andrea.” 

In a bold move, I brush my thumb over her cheek and cuddle back into her shoulder. “I know, I’m just being silly. I don’t want space, either.” 

The bus ride home is the kind of two hours that feels infinite. Like the beginning of a movie when the end feels like it may never come. Her finger brushes the fabric of my jeans, and when I snake an arm through hers and tug it to my chest like I’m cuddling a teddy bear, she spreads her palm over my knee and squeezes. We hit a bump in the mountain road, and her hand slides to the inside of my thigh. She leaves it there the rest of the ride. 

* * *

Catching Feelings ©2022 by Ana Hartnett Reichardt

Published by Bold Strokes Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Bold Strokes Books

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Ana is an award-winning author of lesbian romance with Bold Strokes Books. She worked in the Pacific Northwest wine industry for seven years and now lives in her hometown of Atlanta, Georgia with her wife, their fluffy German Shepherd, and mildly evil cat.

EXCEPTION TO THE RULE BY CINDY RIZZO

Blurb:

What will keep you safe—and sane—when you find yourself in a new and unfamiliar place convinced you'll never find anyone like you?

For Robin and Tracy, it's the rules they set for themselves as they begin their first semester at Adams University near Boston. Robin is determined to hide in her room writing until she can get back to her queer friends in New York City, whose easy exchange of sex and friendship inspires her creativity. She's sworn off perfect princesses like Tracy Patterson, no matter how attractive she finds the mysterious Southerner on her hall with the long blonde hair and tight jeans. And Tracy has no interest in cynical, smart-mouthed Northerners like Robin. She has her own set of rules—fine-tuned back home in North Carolina where she had a fake boyfriend and an uncomplicated string of older female lovers, including her mother's best friend. Here at college, she already has her first conquest planned, and it's certainly not Robin Greene.

This is a love story about two young women who can only find their true selves by finding one another. But are Robin and Tracy willing to give up all they think they know in order to find happiness?

Sometimes in life, the person who will matter most is the one who's an exception to the rule.

Tell us about this scene:

Tracy is back home in North Carolina after her first semester of freshman year. She's invited to a house party on New Year's Eve, and after checking out the women on the first floor she heads down to the basement to see who's there.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

In this scene, Tracy goes to a New Year's Eve party looking to hook up with someone, thinking that sex with a willing stranger is the answer to her feelings of restlessness. Instead, she's confronted for the first time with the reality that what she really needs is Robin.

* * *

Excerpt:

The basement of the house was very dark, lit only by a few strings of tiny white Christmas lights.  Once her eyes adjusted, she searched out the women, put down her glass and moved to the center of the floor to dance near a group that had bunched together without noticeable pairings.  It felt good to move her body and to see the looks of appreciation on the faces around her.  She danced like that for about fifteen minutes until the music slowed down and she decided it was time for another drink.  

“What can I get you?” a voice asked in her ear.

She turned to face the source and saw a taller woman with short dark hair buzzed on the sides and spiky on top.  She appeared to be a little older than the girls Tracy had seen upstairs, so she decided to investigate.

“Hmm, what can you get me?” she asked back with a smile.  “There’s a dangerous question.”

The woman smiled.  “Let’s start with a drink.  How ‘bout that?”

“Okay, then, vodka and tonic.”

“You’re more of a vodka girl than a gin girl, I take it?”

“Vodka has fewer calories.”

“Which is how you’re able to fit into that dress, I suppose?  Not that I’m complaining.”

Tracy looked right into the woman’s eyes.  “I’m Tracy.” 

“Dana.  Pleased to meet you Tracy,” she said as she began to reach for the tall, rectangular bottle of vodka.

Dana was dressed casually in black jeans and sneakers, a white button-down shirt and a black suit vest, a look Tracy loved on a woman.  After she handed Tracy her drink, they talked for a little while on the sidelines, sitting close and speaking into one another’s ears to be heard over the music.  The conversation topics were the typical pre-pickup subjects.  Do you live around here?  Where do you go to school?  Did you come alone or with anyone?  

Tracy could always get a clue about how a woman would be in bed by the way she danced She’d always enjoyed this little game of hers, trying to predict prowess between the sheets by assessing someone’s performance on the dance floor.  

Back at school, as the semester was ending, she’d convinced Angie and Robin to go dancing.  Tracy stood to the side watching Robin dance.  Robin’s fluid movements and intuitive feeling for the music were a shocking surprise.  Her body seemed to almost change shape when she danced.  She seemed taller and more, more, what?  Sexy?  In control?  Hot! Wow, thought Tracy transfixed as she stared at Robin’s hips rocking in a smooth and natural back and forth rhythm, she must be amazing in bed.  Even just considering that silently was enough to make Tracy blush and turn away.  She was uncomfortably warm and she couldn’t help but notice an ache between her legs.  Where did that come from, she wondered?

As she and Dana now danced facing one another, the word “adequate” again came to Tracy’s mind.  Dana wasn’t a great dancer but she moved her body nicely and kept the rhythm of the music.  Tracy was ready to nudge the evening forward.  She leaned her head on Dana’s left shoulder and lightly kissed her neck causing Dana to shiver and hold on tighter.  That gave Tracy the signal she needed.

“Is your apartment nearby?” she asked in Dana’s ear.

Dana nodded, prompting a sly smile from Tracy. “Good, let’s go,” she said.

As they stepped into Dana’s apartment, Tracy was surprised to discover that the suave, smooth woman at the party was a bit more shy than Tracy would have predicted.  So she found herself taking charge, making the first move to kiss, get undressed and run her hands over Dana’s body.  Once they were in bed, she finally took Dana’s hand, moved it between her legs and whispered, “I want you.  Why don’t you see how much?”

She felt her arousal building, but forced herself not to grab Dana’s tentative hand to get exactly what she wanted.  Instead, she relaxed her body and closed her eyes.  Immediately the vision of Robin dancing came back to her and she pictured it clearly in her mind, except this time she was the one on the dance floor with Robin.  Their eyes locked, their bodies moving in the exact same way.  Forgetting where she was and what was happening, Tracy focused intently on the imagined dance and the pressure building between her legs.  The scene was vivid in front of her, Robin’s fluid movements and her knowing smile.  As Robin thrust her hips forward, Tracy leaned back slightly and then moved her hips in Robin’s direction in time to the music while Robin leaned back.  They repeated this rocking motion several times lost in one another’s eyes.  The vision lifted Tracy higher and higher to where she needed to get.  The same thought then entered her mind as it had when she stood watching Robin from the sidelines—she must be amazing in bed.  It propelled her forward over the crest of her climb and into her release, what she’d needed for days, for weeks.  It was powerful and it had nothing to do with the woman in the bed who was now holding her and whispering, “You’re incredible.”

Tracy kept her eyes closed until she knew it would be impolite to do so any longer.  She smiled at Dana and said, “It’s only right that I thank you properly.”

She knew what she had to do and she made quick work of it.  Dana surged under her tongue and Tracy got some satisfaction from the woman’s pleasure.  But after the obligatory cuddling, she swung her legs out of bed and reached for her dress sitting like a puddle on the floor, explaining that her parents would expect her home and she couldn’t stay the night.

The half-hour drive back to Durham was disorienting.  How could she have come so hard fantasizing about Robin?  What could that mean?  

* * *

Exception to the Rule ©0213 by Cindy Rizzo

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* * *

About the Author:

Cindy Rizzo is an award-winning, NYC-based author of five contemporary romance and young adult novels. Her short stories and essays have been published in numerous anthologies.

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THE VALKYRIE'S DAUGHTER BY TIANA WARNER

Blurb:

From the time she was born, Sigrid has only ever been ordinary. Being paired at birth with a plain horse―instead of the powerful winged mare of a valkyrie―meant there would be no warrior path for her. No riding the skies, no glory among the nine worlds. Just the simple, unremarkable life of a stable hand.

Everything changes when a terrible enemy ambushes Vanaheim and Sigrid sees a vision of herself atop a mythical stallion, leading the valkyries into a harrowing battle. Finally, she can grab her future with her own two hands and become the hero of her own story…if she dares.

But her destiny is tied up with Mariam, a fallen valkyrie who’s allied herself with the very enemy Sigrid is trying to stop.

Now Sigrid has left ordinary behind as she begins a journey with the beautiful―if treacherous―valkyrie, each step bringing her closer to answers…and to awakened feelings for Mariam.

But the life Sigrid left behind is starting to look a lot like paradise…especially when her destiny lies in the one place no mortal should tread: the gates of Hel.

Tell us about this scene:

Sigrid, her horse Hestur, a fallen valkyrie named Mariam, and an elf named Fisk are on a longship. They're crossing the nine worlds on a journey to Helheim, the underworld, which is guarded by Garmr.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

The scene where Sigrid faces Garmr was one of the most exciting, action-packed scenes I've written. She and her friends have no choice but to get past the hellhound on their way to Helheim, and she's prepared to risk everything to make it happen. It shows her skill as a rider, her bravery, and it's a harrowing moment that brings her and Mariam closer. Sigrid also learns a lot from this scene as she faces real danger. It was fun to write and a pivotal moment in Sigrid's journey!

* * *

Excerpt:

Fisk pointed ahead through the darkness. A glimmer showed up in the distance.

Sigrid gasped and ran to the railing. “What is that?”

Flames danced on a far-off shoreline—maybe there to guide visitors to port. The cave warmed as they drew nearer.

Sigrid squinted, searching for signs of people. “Is that Helheim?”

A glop sounded in the water, like a fish jumping. Did fish live in the spring of Hvergelmir?

Mariam joined her at the railing. “We’re close to Garmr. I remember this from when we came through with Ratatosk.”

A jolt ran up Sigrid’s spine. Garmr. The hellhound was here somewhere, ready to defend the way to Helheim. She’d put off thinking about what they would do when they got here, and now her time ignoring the inevitable had run out. Did that crate of food have a steak inside, and would the dog go after it if she threw it?

The cave widened into a massive dome the size of the valkyrie training field, its ceiling too high and dark to see, the rock walls glistening faintly in the glow from their lanterns. At the edges, a rocky shoreline sloped up from the water and wrapped around the perimeter. Opposite them, a black hole in the rock marked the only way out besides the tunnel they came from.

It was big enough for Ratatosk’s ship to fit through.

On the shore beside their exit, the heat from the dancing flames intensified, thickening the air like a wool blanket over her mouth. She wiped the beads of sweat rolling down her temples.

“We’re sure Garmr is just a hound, right?” Sigrid said, unable to stop the wavering in her voice.

“Just?” Fisk said from the helm. “Mariam, is she serious?”

The distant flames extinguished, like someone had thrown water over them. The shore plunged into darkness. Ghosts of orange light lingered in Sigrid’s vision, which she blinked away. Odd. Was the cave alive? Did it know they were here?

“Let’s make something clear, Sigrid,” Mariam said. “A hellhound is not a dog. The only reason for the hound in the name is…well, I suppose because of its shape.”

Their words drifted on the edge of Sigrid’s attention.

Above where the flames had vanished, a spark ignited. A trail of fire flickered across the ceiling toward them, swirling and gathering like the dancing lights that had once illuminated Vanaheim’s sky in the dead of winter.

Maybe the cave is showing us the way.

But then why was her body telling her to run?

The ship swayed as Fisk steered them close to the cavern’s perimeter instead of through the middle. Their lanterns illuminated the rocky shore beside them and what seemed to be clusters of black-and-white stones piled across it.

Sigrid wiped her face to get the layer of sweat off. What were they talking about, saying a hellhound wasn’t a dog? “Does it bark?”

“Yeah,” Mariam said.

“If it looks like a dog and sounds like a dog, then why isn’t it a dog?”

The clusters on the shoreline became clearer. Bones. Skeletons lay all over the shore, charred and blackened by fire. Some formed the shape of human bodies, arms and legs splayed in whatever position they’d died in. Other bones were strewn about, broken fragments that could have belonged to anyone or anything. Every piece was stripped bare, no trace of flesh or tendon left attached.

Her muscles locked tight. The wrongness in the air sucked the breath from her lungs. “Mariam?”

But Mariam and Fisk were gaping at the ceiling.

Sigrid’s gaze shot up. The river of fire was gathering into a swirling maelstrom, intensifying, stinging her eyes and forcing sweat through her skin. Its shape twisted and pinched, forming something resembling a—paw?

With a whoosh like a gust of wind, the blaze shot at Fisk. Sigrid and Mariam cried out and lunged for him, hauling him down and away from the flame.

The three of them flattened on the deck as it swept over their heads. Sigrid’s eyes watered from the brightness. Then the blaze was gone, leaving them blinking in the inadequate glow from the lanterns.

Something was burning, pungent and smoky. Sigrid clapped a shaking hand to her scalp to check if it singed her hair, but it hadn’t. She sat up along with the others.

“Am I on fire?” Fisk said. “I feel like I am.”

A wisp of smoke rose from his back, where his chainmail glowed bright red and seemed to be melting his leather jacket.

Mariam grabbed the water bucket meant for Hestur and doused him.

“What was that?” Sigrid exclaimed, finding her voice as Fisk’s clothing sizzled and spat.

“That,” Mariam said, pointing at the fire storm on the ceiling, “is Garmr.”

A low growl like the rumbling of a rockfall came from overhead, as if to confirm Mariam’s words.

Fisk nodded. “If we’re calling him a dog, then that was his paw.” Sigrid’s head spun. “Garmr is fire?”

“More or less,” Mariam said.

The flames from around the cavern knitted together, rendering a distinct form that towered over them. It really had the shape of a hound, but it was the furthest thing from one. Garmr’s body was a storm of orange-and-red flame, which danced as if wind roared through the cavern. His back reached as high as the barn back home, each leg as thick as a tree trunk.

The darker spots where his eyes would be narrowed, like he was analyzing how best to destroy them. When he snarled, balls of fire dripped from his fangs like saliva.

“Run!” Fisk shouted. They scattered.

The dripping fire slobbered onto the deck, hissing and dying where they landed.

The hound snapped, fiery teeth closing over the place where they’d been.

* * *

The Valkyrie's Daughter ©2022 by Tiana Warner

Published by Entangled Teen

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* * *

About the Author:

Tiana Warner is an award-winning sapphic fiction author best known for her Amazon bestselling series, Mermaids of Eriana Kwai and its graphic novel adaptation. Her latest books include The Valkyrie’s Daughter (Entangled Teen), and From Fan to Forever (Ylva Publishing).

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MYSTERY

HUNTING GOLD BY ANN APTAKER

Blurb:

New York City, 1955, a golden city of prosperity, energy, the exciting engine of the American Dream. Just underneath is a dark city, with darker ambitions. This is the world of Cantor Gold, dapper dyke art thief and smuggler, who has her own way of securing the rewards of the American Dream.

Tell us about this scene:

A penthouse-terrace breakfast with Cantor Gold, crime lord Sig Loreale, and Edie Angeli, beautiful daughter of a murdered gangster boss.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It's impossible for me to select an absolute favorite scene among all of my books, but this scene from Hunting Gold shows the various sides of Cantor Gold: savvy underworld operator, chivalrous dyke, defiant spirit in her tough world.

* * *

Excerpt:

Miss Edie Angeli gives me a slow-spreading smile, the type whose pleasure comes from its owner’s ability to size up anyone brought into her presence. It’s a royal smile. “Won’t you sit down?” she says. “We have much to discuss.” She doesn’t sound like a gangster’s daughter. Her creamy voice and silky diction match that royal smile. 

I take a seat at the table, start whatever Miss Angeli wants to discuss with the obvious opener, “My condolences for your loss, Miss Angeli,” and let her take it from there. I won’t know which cards I’ll have to play until she—or Sig—deals them.

There’s sadness in her lowered eyes and in her whispered, “Thank you,” the grief of a loving daughter for her murdered father. But when she raises her eyes again and looks at me, my blood ices in my veins. The woman’s sadness is gone, she’s Boss Angeli’s daughter again, all business now, hard business. “I know you didn’t kill my dad,” she says, getting back to the raw meat of the murder.

“I know it, too,” I say. “But how do you know it?”

Sig says, “Because I told her.”

“And how do you know it, Sig? You obviously know I was there with the body.”

He answers not with words but with a look that says that I should know better.

He takes a sip of coffee, which seems to soften his attitude. “Have some breakfast, Cantor,” he says with a wave of his hand across the feast on the table.

“No thanks,” I say. “I’ve already had mine. Now, what’s on your mind, Sig? What is it you and Miss Angeli think we have to discuss?”

He says, “Miss Angeli phoned me early this morning and asked if I knew why you were at Hartmann’s Warehouse in the middle of the night.”

It’s impossible to keep the surprise off my face so I don’t even try.

It’s Miss Angeli who addresses it. “In addition to a considerable amount of money, my father left me with other useful things. Loyal friends in useful places, for instance.”

“Like the police department?” I say.

“You’re thinking too small,” she says. There’s that royal smile again, only this time there’s genuine amusement in it.

Her amusement is met with my own. I don’t bother to hide the smile spreading across my face, even as I take out a cigarette, light it, and offer one to Miss Angeli. She takes it, puts it between her lips and leans forward across the table for me to light it. The flame of my lighter reflects in her eyes. I wonder how much more fire might lurk behind those chilly blue eyes, or how hot that fire might burn.

She hasn’t dealt me a lot of cards, but my gut tells me she plays with a stacked deck. Despite her finishing school polish and fancy speech, Miss Edie Angeli is every inch the gangster’s daughter, inheritor of her father’s remaining loyal and well placed allies. 

Sig takes another sip of coffee, looks at me over the rim of the cup. His eyes are hard, demanding.

Miss Angeli is still smiling, the smoke from her cigarette sliding along her cheek. But the smoke does nothing to soften the iron will inside the smile. “So, why were you at Hartmann’s Warehouse?” she says.

“Miss Angeli,” I say, “maybe your own informants have already told you, or maybe you heard it from Sig, but I’m sure you know what I do for a living, the world I live in. So I bet you also know that there are rules for surviving in that world, rules no doubt your father understood and even played by in his heyday. If I tell you why I was at the warehouse, I’d be breaking those rules.”

She waves that away, sending cigarette smoke curling away from her like wispy snakes. “Listen to me, Gold—”

“Please, call me Cantor. I’ve just lit your cigarette. That makes us chummy.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” she says.

I can’t resist saying, “How far would you go?”

“Not as far as you’d like.”

“Are you so sure what I’d like?”

The royal smile is back as she gives me that size-me-up look again, letting her eyes linger on my suit and tie. “You’re asking the wrong question, Cantor. You should be asking what I’d like.”

“Any time, Miss Angeli, any time.”

* * *

Hunting Gold ©2022 by Ann Aptaker

Published by Bywater Books

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Buy direct from Bywater Books

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* * *

About the Author:

Native New Yorker Ann Aptaker’s Cantor Gold novels have won the Lambda and Goldie awards. Her short stories have appeared in major crime/mystery fiction anthologies. Ann was a professor of art history and was an investigative report writer for a private investigations firm in California before returning to New York.

MEETING OVER MURDER BY EDALE LANE

Blurb:

Two women, a dead teen, and a cruel killer at large…

Jenna Ferrari is a tough-to-the-bone homicide detective with no patience for stupidity and an Italian’s penchant for displays of emotion. While she excels at catching criminals, she continues to strike out at relationships. At thirty-two, she wonders if she’ll ever find the right woman.

A brilliant, creative college literature professor, Miranda McLeod is respected by her peers and loved by her students. After years of walking an ambiguous line, she wants to come out but doesn’t know how.

When the two meet over the case of a murder on campus, could they have both found what they’ve been looking for, or will the unknown killer on the loose foil their chances for romance?

Tell us about this scene:

Dr. Miranda McLeod discovers a young woman's body near a parking lot on the college campus where she teaches and calls 911. Lt. Detective Jenna Ferrari and her team arrive to investigate the homicide. This is the first time Randi and Jenna meet.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is not my favorite scene of all time; it is, however, one which fits the word count! I imagine we have all experienced that moment we first meet someone new and "check them out," even if we know nothing will ever come of it. Every once in a while, something does.

* * *

Excerpt:

“We have an identification,” Officer Trisha Jamison reported, “from her student ID. The victim is Allison Banks, sophomore, nineteen years old, from Harrisonburg.” She walked over behind Jenna and sighed wearily. “It doesn’t seem that long ago I was a sophomore. Ferrari, I want to nail the bastard who did this. If anywhere, our schools should be safe!”

“Oh don’t worry, Jamison,” Jenna asserted, gritting her teeth with determination. “We are going to give this top priority, and I will not stop until we catch the son of a bitch. The last thing we need is every student on this campus afraid to go to a night class.” She cast another look down at that soft face, forever frozen in her youth. “Allison,” she conveyed in a private confession. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, but I will find who did this, and he will pay.”

Lieutenant Ferrari walked back across the crusty snow amid streams of light filtering through the trees, illuminating the white surface of the ground. Around them rose the ancient silhouette of purplish-blue shadows, the hedge of the Blue Ridge Mountains. She spotted Detective Ron Owens getting out of his ordinary looking white sedan, complete with a snowcapped roof. “Jamison, fill him in, will ya? I’ve got to talk to the witness.” 

Jamison nodded and made her way delicately over the frosty ground to a balding man in his forties, built like the linebacker he had been in high school, with the addition of twenty pounds of beer belly. 

“Dr. McLeod?” Jenna addressed as she neared the professor, who was staring absently at the ground. 

Randi’s warm brown eyes lifted to assess the detective. She seemed to be about her same age, mid-thirties. Her face was round with a button nose and stunning blue eyes, and despite the masculine clothing, she sported vivacious curves. Hot, in no uncertain terms. When did they start giving cops a body like that? Randi felt guilty for the first thoughts that popped into her head, not because they weren’t all too true, but because of the circumstances. This was the first time she had seen a dead person except at a funeral all clean and arranged neatly in their coffin, and those people had mostly been old. “Yes,” she answered, straightening and tensing just a little.

“I’m Lieutenant Ferrari, and I’m the lead detective on this case,” she stated in introduction. Jenna extended a hand, which Randi took, and they exchanged a firm grip. “So, tell me exactly what happened, what you saw and did when you arrived at school this morning.” She took out a notepad and pen and leaned comfortably against the blue Ram.

Nice truck, Jenna thought, and turned her gaze to the professor. Professor? she mused, glancing up and down her long, lean frame. She looks more like an athlete to me. No, no, focus. You must stop checking out every woman you meet. 

As Dr. McLeod related the events, Jenna was impressed with her sense of observation and deduction, in addition to her lack of hysteria. It was evident the teacher was shocked and saddened by the death of a student, but she was holding everything together quite well for a civilian. 

“Did you know the victim?”

“Yes,” Dr. McLeod answered in a bereaved tone. “Allison was in my English Lit class. She was a good student and a promising writer. She seemed happy, was a fabulous violin player, had lots of friends. She didn’t hang out with the party crowd, and I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt her.” Glancing at the notes Jenna jotted down, Dr. McLeod pulled a folded sheet of paper from her coat pocket. “I took the liberty of making a list of names of her friends. I figured you’d want to talk to them.”

Jenna looked up into intelligent, caring, umber eyes, her lips parting in mild astonishment. “Yes, thank you. I was going to ask about her friends.” She has a keen eye for detail and anticipates what questions I will ask. She deserves that PHD. “Do you know if she had a boyfriend, a bad breakup, or anything? Or have you seen any suspicious people hanging around that don’t belong on campus?”

“I’m not sure about boyfriends, but someone on this list should know. As for strangers on campus—well, there wasn’t anyone around this morning and I’m usually gone by or before four in the afternoons. I wish I could be of more help. I feel like there should be more I can do,” she lamented.

“Dr. McLeod, you have done well,” Jenna stated in sincere praise. “You spotted something out of the ordinary, investigated, discovered the body before anyone else arrived, preserved the scene, called it in, made a list of friends—all with no one asking or telling you what to do. If all my witnesses were as adept as you, we’d have far fewer unsolved cases, I can tell you that.” 

Randi blushed and inclined her head. “Well, I do watch a lot of crime dramas. But truly, if there is anything else I can do to help, please do not hesitate to call me.” Randi handed the detective a professional card with her name and number on it. Please call me, she thought, adding for her own moral satisfaction, so I can help you catch the murderer before he kills any more students.

Lieutenant Ferrari took the card and slid it into her jacket pocket. “To be honest, I will probably need to talk to you again after I interview these students. Thank you for being so helpful. I will be sure to let you know when we have a suspect in custody so you and everyone else at the college can breathe easier.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant Ferrari; I appreciate that.” Randi studied the sincerity in the detective’s face. She really does care.

* * *

Meeting over Murder ©2022 by Edale Lane

Published by Past and Prologue Press

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Edale Lane is an Amazon Best-selling author and winner of Rainbow, Lesfic Bard, and Imaginarium Awards. Her sapphic historical fiction and mystery stories feature women leading the action and entice readers with likeable characters, engaging storytelling, and vivid world-creation. Lane lives her dream of being a full-time author in beautiful Chilliwack, BC with her long-time life-partner.

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CHAMPAGNE & THONGS TAKE CONTROL BY G.R. BROWDA

Blurb:

Bright lights but a dark city! Gloria Morris is a scholarly, vehement, and hard-boiled private detective, a force of nature who doesn’t suffer fools. She’s also a lover, and her inamorata understands her swagger and quest for justice.

Gloria must locate the runaway heiress to an industrial empire, a volatile young woman who is happy being on the lam in San Francisco, free of her family’s dark secrets and business responsibilities. She feels she can protect herself and perhaps she can, but people connected to her are dying, and someone is pulling the strings.

Gloria navigates through The City, dealing with musicians, gutter punks, businesspeople, and the sexually audacious. Narcissistic lawyers, underground doctors, and hired killers enter the fray, and Gloria deals with them as only she can. But the runaway has a soft spot she was flabbergasted to discover in herself. How will it change her life, and will Gloria back her up?

Tell us about this scene:

Two major characters meet and fall in love. Love at first sight does happen!

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This excerpt relates an accidental meeting between two women that blooms into a love affair with all the emotional and sexual trimmings. That's exciting and makes a good read.

* * *

Excerpt:

Three days later, Vivian stood outside a house in suburban Mosman holding her guitar case and amp. For someone who had spent so much of her working life alongside the rich and famous, it still felt weird to be here in one of the plushest suburbs in Sydney. Everything this year seemed odd, and to go from being stuck in her tiny apartment for months, to being here certainly reinforced how frustrating the past few months, or however long it had been, felt. Leafy tree lined streets with tall fences and houses set back from the road, and glimpses of the harbour around every corner, and it all screamed with wealth and luxury. For someone who’d spent most of her life living out of a suitcase, sometimes in fancy hotels, other times in cheap backpackers, this place had a solid permanence about it. What was time anyway? The last couple of years had been an exercise in weirdness and uncertainty. For someone who liked change and liked to explore new places, it’d all been hard to stomach being stuck in one place. It was beyond time to take charge of this opportunity and go forward into the work she wanted to do. No more sitting around waiting for the rona to pass. She gently put the amp down and pressed the button at the gate.

“Hello. Who is this?” A croaky voice filtered through the little electronic box.

“Hi, I’m Vivian Koranne. I have an appointment with Ms Bozeman.” Her mask muffled her voice a little and she made sure she spoke slower and clearer than usual.

“Come in.” A little buzzing sound followed the comment and the gate opened automatically. Vivian picked up her amp and walked through the gate. The pathway was gorgeous, laid with old Federation tiles in a complex pattern, and the house. Oh My God! The house. It was one of those hundred-year-old Sydney villas; all red brick on a sandstone base with corrugated iron roof and so much detailed woodwork. Surrounded by gum trees, the house sat at the top of a steep block of land, and Vivian could tell that the view from inside the house would be sensational. The front door opened as she approached, and an elderly woman smiled.

“Welcome. You can hang your mask here, and we have some hand sanitiser.” The elderly woman pointed to a small side table in the entrance hall and Vivian did as she was told. The hand sanitiser had no scent and was in a fancy metallic bottle. “Come with me. Ms Bozeman is in the summer drawing room.” The woman had a smoker’s voice which would be perfect as a backing voice for a jazz trio with those croaky tones. Vivian couldn’t move for a second as she realised what the woman had said. Holy balls. This house had enough drawing rooms to label one of them for summer? This was a different world from her unit where her and Joy shared a bathroom so small that she had to stand squashed between the toilet and the wall to shut the door. She slipped off her sandals and followed the woman along a hallway and then tried not to gasp as the house opened up to reveal Sydney Harbour in all its glory. The view was better than she’d imagined.

A woman, presumably Ms Bozeman, stood up in an elegant stretch. Silhouetted with the sun flowing in from outside, she was tall with impressive tits and broad hips. She must be wearing a corset to keep her waist pinned in like that, as if she were straight out of a period film. Until this second, Vivian had never believed she’d had a type because all her past lovers were varied. The gallop of her heartbeat and rush of blood in her veins was new and told her that she’d found exactly what she’d been looking for all these years. If she wasn’t careful, she’d beg this gorgeous woman for a kiss. She swallowed. Work. She was here to work. It’d been so long since she’d had paid work, she couldn’t let a little lust get in the way.

“Hello.”

Ms Bozeman stepped towards her, and the shadows disappeared from her face to reveal a face lightly touched by time, but in a way that could only be achieved with a lifetime of great skin care. She was white with dark blond hair, high cheekbones, and wide eyes that seemed to sum up Vivian in one single glance. The light cast just enough shadow that Vivian couldn’t see her eye colour. It was hard to tell her age—somewhere between mid-forties and early-sixties—with incredible bone structure. If this was Ms Bozeman, her new client, this job just became a lot more interesting.

“Vivian Koranne, I presume. Welcome. Come and sit. Mrs Chisholm will get you anything you want.” Ms Bozeman had a sultry voice with a posh private school Australian accent.

Vivian nodded. “Anything?” Apparently, she couldn’t help herself and Ms Bozeman’s perfectly sculptured eyebrow raised up a tiny fraction.

“I would typically suggest that eleven am on a Tuesday is too early for champagne. Exceptions could be made if we are celebrating?”

Vivian wanted to grin. “Just water is fine for me. Thank you.”

“Sparkling or flat?”

Damn it’d been an age since Vivian had spent any time with anyone except bloody Joy because the simple act of politeness felt like someone was thinking about her needs and it was oddly foreign. She really needed to find a better place to live. “Tap is fine.”

“Mrs Chisholm, could you please bring some water for our guest, and more tea for myself?”

The elderly woman left the room.

“Mrs Chisholm is really too old for her role, however, I cannot find it in myself to push her into retirement. She did for my parents, and she refuses to leave me. Don’t look at me with such a cynical look. Her daily tasks are not strenuous.”

“I would never dare to judge a potential client.”

Ms Bozeman tilted her head slightly and the light changed to reveal her eye colour. Hazel; mostly brown with a few flecks of green. “I dare say I am your client. Are you always so direct?”

* * *

Champagne & Thongs Take Control ©2022 by G.R. Browda

Published by Wordwooze Publishing

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Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

California is my home. The exotic street and denizens of San Francisco embellish my fiction. I admire the originality and brilliance of hardboiled colloquial American English and write in that style. I have a master's degree from the University and a 2nd dan black belt in Okinawan Karate.

CRIMINAL BY PROXY BY S.E. SMYTH

Blurb:

Christine is on the hunt to find out more about her great aunt, Rose, hoping to decipher their severed relationship and the murder Rose committed, for which June is in prison. With a stroke leaving Rose incapacitated, it’s a rush against time to find the truth.

Things are doubly complicated when Christine’s girlfriend Terrie is accused of assaulting someone. Nervous about what she might do next, Christine and her friends avoid Terrie. With everything at stake, Christine must stick to the cold hard facts, reminding herself not to let her emotions get in the way.

Christine must evaluate everything happening in her life. The weight of the events buried by her aunt so many years before and the shame of the actions of the love of her life rest squarely on her. If the eyes of the law are always 20/20, how do love, emotion, and insecurities distort fact?

Tell us about this scene:

June is in prison for a crime her lover committed. She faces the harsh realities of prison in the face of her persistent love.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene is near and dear to me. So many of us have spent time apart obsessively thinking about someone far away, removed, or cut off from us. June's situation is dire. There is nothing that she can do, and it appears hopeless. In this scene, we get to empathize and feel connected to June despite her predicament. This fictionalized scene comes more from me than the true story behind the novel. We see who June really is and start to understand her true despair and how she is trapped. I hope you enjoy the excerpt and the book.

* * *

Excerpt:

June wore a red jacket most days in the yard and cuffed her pants when the rain overflowed and gathered in puddles on the ground. Marty came over to wherever she was sitting in the yard and joined her for the short duration. This occurred four or five days a week even if they didn’t have much to say. She said she could tell June wasn’t naïve, so sleeping with her wouldn’t be fun. She wouldn’t be able to seduce her. June wouldn’t have fallen prey to Marty’s romantic wiles if she tried. Marty clenched a toothpick in between her teeth and hit on women in the shower. She turned on the lights in so many women, but June shook her head. She wasn’t attracted to this woman who was working her way through the prison.

Marty offered plenty of friendly advice. June should take her approach and go for short-term, sexual relationships with as many women as possible. June should undercommit for a while and try that out. 

“She’s never going to come back to you, you know that, right? You’re dead as far as she’s concerned. She got you good.” Marty spoke as she rolled up the short sleeves on her prison uniform. “She’s not ever going to be in your life again, and you have to get used to that. You’ll get used to that in here.”

“I’ll never stop thinking about her. I can’t do it. She was my love. I’ll have that until the day I die,” June said. She didn’t want to go outside that day, or any day as far as she was concerned at that moment.

“You better buck up, J. That attitude will kill you. I know people on the outside—people with big sticks. I can help if you need assistance. Call in a favor, you know,” Marty promised.

June could see Marty didn’t understand what she was saying. Marty didn’t know. Never would. Marty would never want a single woman the way June idolized Rose, ever. Prison made you hard.

June tried not to talk about Rose. Seen as weak, June would be a target. She didn’t want to contradict Marty’s advice or make it look like she didn’t respect her and her hardened wisdom. June clung to her like a friend, but she didn’t cross over to a romantic relationship. Marty sauntered away, never looking back, each time June softened up or began to talk about Rose. June knew Marty knew better.

After June was able to sit up in bed, when her stabs of depression lightened to let in hopes and reasoning, she wrote. Mostly, she wrote letters to Rose. They were often long and rambling, a pouring out of words. Sometimes, in addition to sentiments and apologies, she wrote short stories about her life in prison. Other times, she wrote poems or rewrote the words of songs they listened to and sang together. Whatever came across her mind, she scratched the words onto the paper. Everything directed to Rose, at Rose, even if it had nothing to do with her.

The letters got longer and longer. A few needed large manila envelopes to hold them since they wouldn’t fit in a standard letter envelope. The letters were sealed up and addressed. She didn’t want anyone to see them or take them, so she hid them under her mattress. She placed them right where her heart would be. At night, she poured extra love into them.

June never mailed the letters. They were treasures. After a year, she had close to thirty. As much as she couldn’t bear it to send them, she resigned to the fact she couldn’t. Marty wouldn’t let her, for one. She realized Rose had never forgiven her, whatever it was she had done. So, Rose probably wouldn’t even open them. A bite of bitterness crept up her throat every time she sealed them. June did so much to save their relationship. She spent so much time writing down things Rose had to hear, even though she never would. All of her efforts were worthless in so many ways. She was going through motions that would never move her and Rose forward.

After that first year, her cell got tossed, and a guard confiscated the letters. He bellowed they were taking up too much space. June wasn’t allowed to have them. June wasn’t sure what would happen to the notes. Someone would read them. They’d laugh at their relationship, their love. Most of all, she was defeated seeing Rose would never know how much she cared. All the letters, the work, were struck from the record for good. 

A few months later, she wrote them again. She couldn’t stop. She needed to get her feelings out onto paper. She needed to cultivate her emotions before the cold, hard cell crushed her soul. Free writing was good for her. Writing dried up the tears. The restorative act kept her alive and wanting.

Throughout those first few years, Marty stole letters and threw them away. A bunch of women found them, took them, and read them. June couldn’t keep so much stuff, they told her. The guards took them too. She never threw a single one away by herself. She always maintained hope. Yet in some way or another, they found their way into the trash, gone for good. Her soul broke, murdered every time.

* * *

Criminal by Proxy ©2022 by S.E. Smyth

Published by NineStar Press

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from the publisher

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

S.E. Smyth is a versatile author putting words into the world. The stories she tells are never exactly how they happened. Elusive as she proclaims she is, you can usually find her nose buried in primary sources plotting a story. Despite persisting historical references, she wholeheartedly believes she lives in the present.

Sign up here for S.E. Smyth ’s author newsletter.

THE ILLUSTRIOUS CLIENT BY SANDRA DE HELEN

Blurb:

Book Two of the Shirley Combs and Dr. Mary Watson series, THE ILLUSTRIOUS CLIENT, shows us the private investigator and her sidekick sharing an office, and introduces their receptionist, Lix. They are hired to influence a young international pop star, Oceane Charles, to pry her away from her older, richer, player of a girlfriend. The cast is made up of people with various ethnicities and backgrounds, and of course the job soon includes solving a murder mystery. Along the way, Mary discovers her latent lesbianism. Set in Portland, Oregon on a super yacht, in a hospital VIP room, at Rose Festival, and other fun places.

Tell us about this scene:

Before she becomes the illustrious client of Shirley Combs, Oceane is the lover of Zaro Sadozai, a wealthy Afghani woman. They have crossed oceans to reach Portland, Oregon where Oceane (a young French pop star) has a concert. They are docked and about to make love when the scene opens.The

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

The setting is lush, the characters larger than real life, but they are two women making love on a yacht in Portland, Oregon.

* * *

Excerpt:

 As they approached the dock where Zaro’s yacht, the Freja, waited for them, Oceane squealed a bit, and ran ahead. Zaro laughed and ran to join her. Together they raced up the stairs to the main level. Zaro’s man Khalil opened the door and took their wraps, the stuffed bear, and asked what he could bring them. Zaro dismissed him for the night, and Khalil retired to his own quarters below decks. Zaro and Oceane hurried to the master suite, glancing at each other every few steps, smiling as if keeping a secret they could share with no one.

    Zaro shut the door behind her. The king-size bed filled most of this quiet, lush cabin. The floor was overlain with Turkish rugs, the bed covered in silks and satins of grey and cream, with black, red, and orange pillows of various shapes and sizes. Oceane picked up the tiny remote and found a playlist of instrumental jazz to suit their mood. They met at the mirrored bar and Zaro poured wine for each of them from a bottle of Oceane’s family’s own vineyards. Tonight it was Chateau des Ouches’s Special Selection, a sparkling white known as Cremant.

 The music played in the background, and the bubbly tickled their palates, as Zaro and Oceane shed their clothes. Oceane chose a satin robe to match her eyes, the color of espresso. Zaro slipped into silk pajama pants. The pale ivory against her café au lait skin never failed to excite Oceane. She walked up to her and stood with her breasts against Zaro’s as her fingers found the nape of her neck and felt her blue black mane. The short hairs on her nape were as soft as the plush on the panda she won for her at the carnival. She tilted her head up, gazing into Zaro’s eyes, opening her lips, touching her tongue to her upper lip. With a groan, Zaro kissed her deeply, and lifted Oceane from the floor into her arms.

  Zaro gently lay Oceane onto the bed and pushed the pillows out of the way. Oceane never took her eyes off her. She couldn’t believe this gorgeous woman was really hers. One of the most eligible lesbians in the world, with a fortune of her own, and bone structure any model would kill for—she knew Zaro had been with at least a hundred women before her. But ever since they met at the Rose Ball in Monaco, they were inseparable. That was nearly three months ago, and she had gone with her to every concert she had since. She had never had a woman cherish her the way Zaro did, cater to her every need or desire. She wasn’t experienced like Zaro, of course. She was only twenty years old. She’d had boyfriends in high school, had even given up her virginity to one of them. And she dated women now and then since becoming so busy. But it was difficult to find anyone who was interested in her for herself in the music business, or so it seemed. They all wanted a piece of her—of her contracts, that is.

    Zaro was different. She was protective and generous. She showed her love every day in ways big and small. She said she didn’t care about her being famous, in fact she said she’d rather she weren’t. She loved her voice, of course. It was what drew her to Oceane in the first place. She had asked Prince Albert and Princess Charlene to introduce them. But she would be happy if Oceane weren’t famous, didn’t have concerts booked, wasn’t working on a new recording. To prove how generous she was in spite of all that, she had her yacht fitted with a recording studio so Oceane could work while they were abroad, and wouldn’t have to leave at all.

  Oceane touched Zaro’s face, and gently pulled her head toward her own. Their mouths sought each other out, and their tongues played together as if they had minds of their own. When Zaro lifted her mouth from her, she slid under Oceane on the bed, and lifted her on top of her lithe body. She pulled her upright so she could tease her nipples, gently biting them through the robe, while cupping her behind with her hands. They both became aroused. Inside, Oceane felt a melting, a loosening of the muscles, a solid core of heat running from her breasts to her inner thighs. She wanted badly to pull down Zaro’s pajamas and straddle her, but she let her take the lead as always. Zaro liked to keep her waiting until she was practically begging her to enter her. As she moved ever so slightly against Zaro’s heated thigh, she moved her off, onto the bed. Zaro untied the belt of Oceane’s robe, pulled it open, and began kissing her body. First the breasts, and under her arms and down to her wrists and hands, sucking a finger of each hand. And her neck, and down her chest to her flat belly, which she gave tiny licks. When she reached her pubic area she turned to her thighs and gave them bites as well as kisses.

    Oceane was moaning with desire and ready for more when Zaro suddenly stopped what she was doing and sat up.

* * *

The Illustrious Client ©2013 by Sandra de Helen

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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* * *

About the Author:

Sandra de Helen, author of the Shirley Combs/Dr. Mary Watson series and the lesbian thriller Till Darkness Comes is a produced playwright, as well as a poet with five collections published by Launch Point Press. A sixth collection will be published in 2023.

PARANORMAL / SUPERNATURAL

SILVER MOON BY CATHERINE LUNDOFF

Blurb:

Becca Thornton, divorced, middle-aged and trying to embrace her quiet life, discovers that life still holds plenty of surprises when menopause comes with bonus lycanthropy. And she’s not the only one. The dull and seemingly peaceful town of Wolf’s Point has its own all-female werewolf pack and Becca is about to become its newest member. But it’s not all midnight meetings at the Women’s Club, monthly runs through the woods and keeping the town safe. Becca’s cute lesbian neighbor, Erin, is starting to haunt her dreams as well as her doorstep. And there are werewolf hunters in town and they’ve got Becca and the Wolf’s Point Pack in their sights.

Tell us about this scene:

Erin, Becca's neighbor has picked her up at the hardware store where she works, and is walking her home by the scenic route. Erin is a werewolf and knows it, Becca is till figuring out a lot of things, like the fact that she's bi and also about to turn into a werewolf.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Becca Thornton hasn't figured out that she's about to turn into a werewolf, but she knows something odd is happening. This is the one of the first scenes where she starts to recognize her crush on Erin and their first glimpse of the werewolf hunters who'll be tracking them soon. It sets the scene for a lot of the rest of the story, both in terms of Becca trying to figure out who she is now as a woman in her 50s, newly divorced, just past menopause and on the brink of a bunch of big changes.

* * *

Excerpt:

Erin grinned back at her. “But tonight the moon’s almost full and the mountains look even more gorgeous than usual. I thought you might want to take the long way home and check out the scenic route. I even brought tea.” She held out a shiny little coffee mug and a small white paper bag. “And chocolate.”

“You do think of everything.” Becca helped herself to a small piece of the chocolate and gulped down the tea before handing the bag and the cup back. Erin turned away to tuck them back in her pack just as the moon caught Becca’s eye.

She found herself staring up at it like she’d never seen it before. Had it always been so white, so compelling? It pulled at the tides in her blood, rustling under her skin until she was so jumpy she wanted to run and howl. She forced her tone to sound casual. “Let’s walk then.”

They moved briskly, Becca surprising herself by keeping up with Erin’s long strides. There was a breeze blowing tonight, coming in from out of town somewhere. It was full of tantalizing scents, ones that Becca had never noticed before. The wind’s fingers twisted their way through her shoulder-length gray and brown hair, lifting it out of the scrunchy that tried to restrain it until she gave up and yanked it off. She felt like anything might happen tonight. The thought thrummed through her like a drumbeat. 

“Do you run?” Erin’s voice growled from somewhere above her and she shivered as if she was shaking off an old skin. For an answer, she swung her bag back out of the way. Then she lunged forward into a lope that came easily to her. It wasn’t too fast but it was certainly more of a run than she’d attempted in years. She tried not to think about how much her calves would hurt later.

Erin effortlessly kept pace with her as they charged from downtown onto the more deserted side streets, heading for the river. The bag banging against Becca’s back was a minor irritation, one she could ignore in her newly discovered speed and stamina. She sucked in the wind like a drink and imagined for a moment that the two of them were chasing something, something they had to catch. Her white tennis shoes twinkled below her against the dark pavement as they surged out onto the bridge.

The river rapids thundered beneath its rusting metal trusses and Erin caught Becca’s arm to slow her down and draw her to the rail. Together, they panted out into the moonlit dark in companionable silence. Becca grinned down at the water, its rushing length matching her mood. “Maybe this will be the year that I finally go on that whitewater trip Ed was always going on about.”

“Sounds like a great idea.” Erin said enthusiastically. And just like that, Becca knew who she wanted to go with. She’d been alone too long; it was time that she started making some new friends. She glanced sidelong at Erin, watching her nostrils flare in the breeze. The slight elongation of her face that Becca had seen earlier was back, as was the silver tint in her eyes. 

But now it felt right, like it was the way she should look. She grinned back at Becca, and even the length and sharpness of her teeth seemed to suit her face better than they had back in town. “Thanks for running with me. I needed that.” 

“Rough day crunching the numbers?” Becca remembered that Erin was an accountant, but she always had problems reconciling it with what she’d seen of her neighbor. She looked like she should be herding cattle or something, lariat in hand.

“Always.” Erin threw back her head, tilting her nose up at the moon. For a second, Becca wondered if she was going to howl at it. They both looked up, silent again for a moment. 

Then Becca glanced down at the water and her hands on the railing. Had her fingers always been so long, the backs of her hands so dark, almost as if they were covered with...black fur?

“Have some more tea,” Erin nudged her hard, as if determined to interrupt her thoughts, and thrust the thermos into Becca’s hands.

When Becca looked at her fingers again a couple of seconds later, they looked normal. “So when you were going through menopause, did you think you were seeing a lot of crazy things, stuff you knew couldn’t be happening?” She asked at last. She tried to make her tone casual, as if she was just making conversation. 

“You kidding?” Erin laughed heartily. “I thought I was seeing Elvis down at the diner every time I had a hot flash!” She appeared to catch a bit of Becca’s mood then and reached out to pat her shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll be fine. It just takes a little adjustment.”

Seeing Elvis wouldn’t be so bad, Becca thought. It was the rest of it that was kind of disturbing. That was when she noticed the van traveling slowly down the highway that ran past the end of the bridge. Not that there was much to notice about it—it was white with a logo on the side that she couldn’t read from where they stood and that was about it. But there was something about the tinted windows and the way it paused as it passed the bridge, almost like the driver was watching them, sizing them up, that made it sinister.

* * *

Silver Moon ©2017 by Catherine Lundoff

Published by Queen of Swords Press

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from Queen of Swords Press

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Catherine Lundoff is an award-winning writer and editor from Minneapolis. Her stories and articles have appeared in such venues as Queer Weird West Stories and Fireside Magazine. Her books include Silver Moon and Blood Moon, the Wolves of Wolf’s Point series. She is the publisher at Queen of Swords Press.

THIS TIME BY S.W. ANDERSEN

Blurb:

Some people believe love transcends time and space.

Neuropsychologist Dr. Contessa "Tess" Kenner isn't one of them. She can explain in detail how lust and desire cause the limbic system to battle the prefrontal cortex over ethical decision making, but ask her about her aversion to relationships and she's completely at a loss. It's not due to lack of trying. She's just never felt the need or the connection to put in the effort.

Free spirited artist Elena Jake, on the other hand, wants to fall in love with the woman of her dreams—quite literally. Ever since her youth, her nights have been consumed by a beautiful stranger, so much so, that no flesh and blood woman has ever been able to measure up. When the lines between fantasy and reality begin to blur, she seeks guidance from her Native American roots.

Driven by strong astrological influences, the "powers that be" attempt an intervention between the two women. Their pasts and presents merge, sending Tess and Elena on an unimaginable journey, causing them both to question their sanities.

Will these two souls rediscover an epic love?

Or are they destined to forever be star-crossed lovers?

This romance is a must read for every true romantic who believes love knows no bounds.

Tell us about this scene:

Elena, tired of the growing feeling that she may be going crazy, acts on the advice from her grandmother, Mai, who has deep Native American spiritual roots, and attempts to reach out to the woman inhabiting her dreams.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

While there are several scenes in this book I love, this one really speaks to the deep need to connect between both characters. They are both desperate for answers and in this realm between the real world and spirit, the emotions pour out between them. Two souls searching to reconnect in a love that transcends time and space...I hope you love it as much as I do.

* * *

Excerpt:

Thin rays of morning sun peeked through the living room blinds, caressing Elena's back. Ignoring their soothing warmth, she held the wooden talisman tight to her chest and sat Indian style on a hand-woven Chinook rug. She stared down at its delicate crisscrossing fibers. The repeating pattern of black and red diamonds with horizontal stripes turned hypnotic, bringing her much needed calm. 

In the three nights since she'd last seen Mai, the dreams had intensified. Last night's had been the most realistic yet and her heart literally ached when she had awoken to her reality—alone. 

I can't go on like this.

Her eyelids drifted closed and, as instructed, she focused on the dark-haired woman in her dreams with searing blue eyes that warmed her soul and a low-timbered voice that resonated deep within her being. Though all doors and windows were sealed, a warm breeze touched her skin, just like the one that had caressed her last night in the arms of her lover as they kissed passionately in the forest on a summer day. It would be so easy to relive that memory over and over, but that was no longer enough. Her poor heart either needed more or she needed closure. Come what may, it was time to reach out. 

Maintaining her focus, Elena took a deep cleansing breath and looked her blue-eyed dream woman in the eye. "Hi. I don't know what I'm doing really, but at this point, I'll try anything." 

This is so weird. As the brief moment of doubt crept in, her door to the other world began to close, obscuring her lover from sight. Elena's heart clenched and she quickly steeled herself. Her focus returned with unprecedented determination, blowing the door wide open. 

I can do this. I will do this.  

She stepped through the doorway and into a realm of the whitest white she had ever seen. Elena was forced to shield her eyes until a pair of sympathetic blazing blues came into view. They dripped with as much hope as sadness, as if the heartache could be felt both ways. Was it even possible? There was only one way to find out.

"I don't know who or where you are, or why you have such a hold on my heart, but I feel you. Every night I see you and it's like we live another life together. And every morning, I wake feeling empty." Elena paused for a deep breath, feeling the honesty in her words. If she was going to throw it out into the universe, she was going all in. What was there to lose? 

"No one I've ever met could live up to you and that's ridiculous because…well...you're not even real. Or, I guess you are…somewhere…but not here. Point is, I'd like you to be…real…here with me."

Elena's honest words received a tear in response from her silent companion. Though she hadn’t really expected a conversation, she had hoped for one. With no further acknowledgement or effort from the other woman, she saw no reason to continue. Seemed she wouldn’t be getting any of the answers she had so desperately sought, but perhaps planting a seed of suggestion would prove whether or not any of this had ever been real. That had to be something. Right? 

"Anyway," Elena began, "I'm sure I will see you tonight." She stepped closer, extending her hand, but the woman was always out of reach. Elena sighed and dropped her head. "If you are real somewhere, and you can hear me, can you find a way to let me know? I really need to know. Okay?"

The woman only stared, confusion peppering the contours of her face as if processing the request, but she never responded. Her bright blue eyes dimmed and she turned to leave. A pulsing white light in the distance seemed to call to her, but she stopped and glanced over her shoulder to meet Elena's solemn gaze once more. 

For a moment, it appeared as if she were attempting to struggle against an invisible force in an effort to return to Elena, to reach out and accept the offered hand. But it was not to be. Whatever power had a hold of her was too much to overcome. 

Confusion turned to sadness as she was pulled farther and farther away. The light grew dim, as did Elena's hope that tonight's dreams would have a new ending.

* * *

This Time ©2018 by S.W. Andersen

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

From old west gunslingers to a love that transcends time and space, best selling author S.W. Andersen writes sapphic romances where love knows no bounds. She shares ten acres in rural Florida with her wife of 20+ years and a crew of rambunctious dogs, cats, and horses.

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GHOST TOUR BY SUE STILL

Blurb:

Halloween. A Haunted House. One Ghost Tour.

‘We both have our reasons for visiting the manor tonight, and they are not to do with the spooky event, but with the dead. In my case, maybe a particular ghost, if I am extremely lucky.’

It’s Halloween in one of Britain’s most haunted houses.

A group of women have signed up for a ‘Spooktacular’ event and will spend the night in a spooky old mansion house searching for ghosts.

The all-women party embark on a tour of the ancient English house with a gorgeous female guide. The tour holds secrets and will change at least two of the six women’s lives forever.

Quirky characters, comical moments, hidden agendas, and perhaps a ghost or two…

Past and present collide in this spooky sapphic story about ghosts, eternal love, secrets, a hidden room, a mystery, and an ancient murder.

“It’s impossible not to think of Netflix’s super-hit ‘The Haunting of Bly Manor’ when reading this excellent lesbian ghost story.” – Laura M (GCLS Writing Academy).

Tell us about this scene:

At the beginning of the scene, the characters have just set off on a night-time ghost hunt around an old English haunted house during Halloween, and enter the first room.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I chose a scene from my short story Ghost Tour which has become special to me. Ghost Tour was the first story I published as an indie author, and written whilst I attended the GCLS writing Academy. As I was exploring my craft, it gave me the chance to experiment by inserting and trying out various writing techniques within a story.

This excerpt comes from near the beginning of the story, and introduces the characters, setting and scene. It is a crucial part of the story and it’s here you get an inkling into what’s going on. It’s also my first foray into first person POV which was a challenge, but exhilarating.

At the beginning of the scene, the characters have just set off on a night-time ghost hunt around an old English haunted house during Halloween, and enter the first room. Inside is a striking woman who offers to guide them around, and who the MC is instantly drawn to.

This scene is a favourite of mine, and I really enjoyed creating it. I hope readers will pick up on that and love the story as much as I do. I like this selection as it contains a lot, and gives an insight into the characters who I had a lot of fun with. They are quirky, unique, and often not what you think they are. The plot is complex and poignant and the scene includes some light-hearted aspects, as well as more serious undertones.

* * *

Excerpt:

We enter this first room, the drawing room. I look around, taking in the tall ceiling, regal furniture, and decadent artwork lining the walls. There is a large unlit fireplace, and the room is chilly. Despite Joan’s attire, I see a shiver run through her.

In front of the fireplace, a tall woman stands with her back to us, but turns around slowly when we enter, and I’m sure I gasp aloud. There is a presence about her, and I glance towards Joan, but like the others, she is looking at the woman with avid interest. My reasons for being here enter my mind, and I realise with pleasure that I might accomplish at least one of them.

“Good evening, ladies. Welcome,” she said and smiles at each of us. When her azure eyes meet mine, they lock and hold. I am mesmerised and can feel myself lost in their depths. There is a palpable connection between us, and for the first time, I believe in destiny. I catch Joan’s eyes as they flick from where I am, over to our guide and back, as if she senses our bond.

The woman’s short golden hair is the colour of wheat and looks soft, even silky. She is gorgeous, her body lean, and work toned. She wears simple brown trousers, boots, a white shirt with the top three buttons undone, exposing her neck and the slight swell of her cleavage. My body thrums at the sight of her, in ways that I have not felt in a very long time. I stop myself from taking a step toward her, towards my destiny. Her eyes sweep over me, a lingering touch, scrutinising and caressing before returning to the others. I feel lost when they’ve gone.

“Might I offer my services for this night? You may walk around by yourself if you so wish. However, if you will allow me to guide you, I will tell you all the mysteries held within these house walls,” she said. 

I am intoxicated and intrigued. 

Our group is excited, willing, and everyone readily agrees. We follow her, our guide, into the next room on this ghost tour being regaled by her charm, tall tales, and eerie stories as we go. She is captivating and easily holds our attention as she leads us room by room around the downstairs of the house. Answering questions and pointing out the features that make us stop to look. Her melodious voice describes each room, its history, the architecture, furniture, and other important details she thinks we should know. 

There is an oil painting of the first Lord and Lady Meadows, followed by many other family members scattered around each room. A vase brought back from Greece, a rug from Persia, an ancient, mummified cat from Egypt and so on. 

I walk by Joan’s side, watching as she treads carefully around each room, her eyes open wide and an expression of awe on her face as she takes in their magnificence. She tentatively touches a lovely wall tapestry and is careful as she caresses the material. I would do anything to see her happy and am over the moon at being here with her tonight to share this momentous occasion. 

Examining each of the three women in our little band of ghost hunters, I give them each a nickname. This makes me chuckle frequently to myself as they live up to those names while we wander around the house. The first woman I call Scaredy-cat, because she jumps at the slightest sound and is easy to frighten. The second is Sceptic, because that’s what she is and has a reason for each and everything she sees or hears. And the third woman is Wannabe, who fancies herself as a sensitive and a medium in the making, often feeling a presence or noise none of the rest of us can. She takes Scaredy-cat under her wing, promising to look after her and let her know when a spirit is present. I’m not sure who’s the funniest of them all, and I am glad I am here with Joan. 

When searching for ghosts, our guide tells us where each ghost should appear and what they normally do, but I’ve yet to see one. I notice her watching me frequently, singling me out, and I’d like to be alone with her, but now is not the time. I must focus on what I came to do. 

Our group enters the grand hall. Though impressive and opulent, we see no ‘white woman,’ who died on her wedding day and wails as she runs down the central aisle. The dining room, though decadent and ornate, is missing ‘the little boy running around throwing his playful dog a stick’. I do not see or hear anything out of the ordinary, and I wonder if I will. 

“Tell me,” Sceptic says. “The bumps, bangs and other disturbances. Is there really a poltergeist, or is that just made up?” She looks pointedly at our guide, and I see the gorgeous woman’s eyes crinkle and the corner of her mouth twitch in mirth.

“If I tell you a secret, will you promise to keep it to yourselves?”

“Of course,” Sceptic said. “As if I’d tell anyone, anyway!”

Our guide chuckles. “It’s not a poltergeist. Nor is it made up. It’s another ghost. One that you don’t know about. Yet. I’ll tell you all about her later.” When she casts a glance at me, she surprises me with a tender smile. 

I know she is talking about the ghost I’m here for, and I feel hope rise from deep within me, but also a sense of foreboding. Now that I will finally get my answers, do I truly want to hear them?

* * *

Ghost Tour ©2022 by Sue Still

Published by Spellbound Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Sue writes Sapphic SpecFic and action-adventure stories. She loves creating new worlds, populated with diverse characters and creatures.

A graduate of the GCLS Writing Academy, and neurodivergent geek, Sue loves all things: sci-fi, fantasy and superhero.

When not searching for dragons or mysterious artefacts, you can find her walking her black Labrador.

Sign up here for Sue Still ’s author newsletter.

FANTASY

THE ASSASSINS OF LIGHT BY BRITNEY JACKSON

Blurb:

Alana might be gone, but the world hasn’t forgotten what she did. The damage is done, and the world is quickly spiraling toward a war that will threaten the survival of humans and vampires alike.

An anti-vampire organization, known as the Assassins of Light, has emerged again after centuries of lying in wait, and for reasons no one understands, Rose Foster is their new target. As Rose struggles with her growing feelings for the Viking warrior, Kara Unnarsdóttir, and her own inner turmoil, she must find a way to protect the people she loves from the Assassins of Light.

Kara Unnarsdóttir tries to protect Rose from afar by utilizing her impressive network of spies, but her investigations into the Assassins of Light lead her to the realization that the extremist organization is closer to Rose than she originally thought.

Tell us about this scene:

Rose Foster is a young vampire who's trying to protect everyone she loves from an anti-vampire organization. She's fallen in love with a lesbian, Viking vampire by the name of Kara Unnarsdóttir, but she's trying (and failing) to fight those feelings for the sake of the man she loved before becoming a vampire.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

As much as I love to write sarcasm and banter, portraying trauma and healing are also very important to me. The protagonist of my queer vampire series helped me process my own trauma after years of abuse, and Kara’s compassionate response to Rose’s pain helped me find a little more compassion for myself, as well.

At every stage of the writing and editing process, the scene made me sob uncontrollably. Even though I wrote it years ago, it’s still one of the most memorable scenes to me because of the effect it had on my own healing.

My hope is that anyone who reads it listens to Kara’s words and finds some compassion and love for themselves, as well.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Why did you give me this?” Rose held out her hand, the flower balanced in her palm. “Because…if you’re trying to seduce me—”

“I’m not,” Kara interrupted. “It’s just a gift.” The pale moonlight danced across her face, illuminating the lines of sympathy in her expression. “You and Alana are similar in that way, you know? You can’t fathom that someone might want to give you something—just because we like to see you smile. No strings attached.”

Rose’s heart jumped in her chest, fluttering with anxiety and aching with the pain of her memories. Her bright blue gaze shifted toward the single, red rose in her hand. “Research shows that things that happen to us during the early years of our life affect our emotional health long-term.”

Kara smiled. “I love your quirks,” she said quietly, almost as if she were talking to herself. “The way you recite facts to make things more impersonal, to hide your pain. But you needn’t hide your pain from me, ást. I can always see it.”

Rose swallowed. “I guess…I’m saying that,” she stammered, “I learned to see myself in a certain way, and now, it’s just hard to see myself any differently.”

Kara watched Rose, compassion burning in her light blue eyes. She reached out and tucked a windswept lock of red hair behind Rose’s ear. “Tell me, love,” she whispered, so quietly that no one else would’ve heard her, “how many times did someone have to tell you that you were worthless before you believed it?”

Rose felt her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Her heart pounded so hard that she felt as if it were echoing through the entire park—audible to Kara and anyone else who might walk by—and the emotion that had welled up in her throat left her unable to speak. She looked down, hiding her face, as tears threatened to spill out. “I don’t know. Probably…hundreds.”

Kara stepped closer, curling her hand beneath Rose’s chin. She lifted Rose’s face, until her wet, azure-blue eyes met Kara’s gaze. “Then, I will tell you thousands of times that you are not worthless. I’ll tell you that you are beautiful, strong, brave, and absolutely amazing, as many times as I have to, until you believe it.”

For several, long moments, silence stretched between them, filled only by the hoots of owls and the songs of insects. 

Rose stared at Kara, her chest heaving from the intensity of the emotions rushing through her—the warmth unfurling in her chest, spreading throughout her body, filling her up with happiness and fear. “You said this was strictly business, but now, you’re giving me flowers and saying things that make me want to kiss you. It’s confusing.”

Kara smiled. “Say that part again. The part about wanting to kiss me.”

Rose blushed. “Did I say that?” she rambled. “I don’t even know what I’m saying right now. I’m mostly just trying not to embarrass myself. Clearly, I’m failing.”

Kara laughed. Then, with a soft, affectionate smile, she stepped forward and tilted her face closer to Rose’s. Her eyes slid closed, and her lips almost met Rose’s.

“You said,” Rose said breathlessly, “this was strictly business.”

Kara leaned back on her heels, amusement twitching at the corners of her lips. “Yes. Business,” she said. “We’ll save the kissing for later.”

* * *

The Assassins of Light ©2018 by Britney Jackson

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available on Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Britney Jackson is an award-winning author of sapphic fantasy. She’s adored reading and writing for as long as she can remember. She studied music and religion in college and did her graduate work in English. She resides in Alabama with her two kids and a big, snuggly cat.

Sign up here for Britney Jackson ’s author newsletter.

THE GIFT OF BLOOD BY VAELA DENARR & MICAH IANNANDREA

Blurb:

“Shit, people keep killing me off. It’s like some bad TV show.”

A lesbian vampire on a revenge quest, distracted by a slow burn romance.

One person’s gift is another’s curse. And sometimes the dark hides very real monsters. This is certainly the case for Ryann Ly, professional kickboxer, MMA fighter, and freshly Turned vampire. When the people who abducted, faked her death, and cursed her to burn in the sun attempt to enlist her into their ranks, Ryann decides she has absolutely no time for any of their nonsense. Even if she has to kill them to get some peace and quiet.

It’s only fair. They killed her first.

She just wants to get her life in order and navigate this strange new reality she finds herself trapped in. But vampire turf wars, monsters in the dark, and people hunting Ryann for mysterious reasons make that very difficult. Luckily, she’s not alone. Helping her along is a soft werewolf dad, a polyamorous triad of badasses, a vampire with PTSD and a dry sense of humour, a childhood friend, and Rachel, a human girl that Ryann thinks is very cute.

Will Ryann defeat the darkness that haunts her, and the things within? Will she be able to avenge the injustice done to her, or will she become another monster, destined to be slain? Will she find out why people keep declaring her dead?

And will she ever figure out why her found family keeps calling her and Rachel girlfriends?

Tell us about this scene:

Ryann's learns that there is more to the supernatural world than mindless killing. There is love, devotion, protection, and beauty. Because Kay is really hot, and she's something else with that sword of hers.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This was the first scene we wrote that made me think people will love this book. It has deep sentimental value to me. It is also the first time Ryann meets Kay, the polyamorous ace protector of the local supernatural community. And though she might not understand right away, this moment is what sets Ryann on her own path to becoming a protector.

And also Kay is really gorgeous and her sword skills are out of this world. We love to see her.

* * *

Excerpt:

Her fingers brushed against stone. She’d slipped a little and almost missed the edge of the wall.

Almost.

But she did catch it. First just with her fingers, then she pulled herself up and managed to get her forearm on it. She got her whole arm and shoulder up, and pulled herself over, fell down on the other side, and rolled expertly to cushion her fall. Her body felt perfectly balanced and capable again. All the stiffness from her coma had vanished.

The momentum let her spring right into another dash, running even faster than before. She pushed herself into her sprint. Her breath was hot on her own cheeks under the mask. The alley twisted and Ryann felt her body trying to go one way as she forced it another way, around the bend. Her path was blocked by a wooden barrier, several metres high. Looking about, there were no handholds or objects to help her over it. She had almost reached it, and it looked too smooth to let her climb all the way up. Maybe if she ran up the wall… No, it was too wet for that.

She noticed at the last moment that the bottom of the barrier had rotted away. There was no time to try gauging if the gap was enough for her to fit. Her body made the call for her as she got low and slid under the wooden fence without even slowing for a second. The very bottom of the barrier tore at her sweater, then she was through, at the corner of a crossing, back on her feet—

Ryann’s eyes went wide at the sight around that corner. In a split second the image burned itself into her mind. A figure stood in the rain, finishing a swinging motion that dragged a long blade through the night in a silver arc. The person in front of them, between the figure and Ryann, was still moving forwards, even as their head flew high into the air, trailing a spray of dark droplets. The blood smell hit her like a punch. She slipped on the wet street and slammed with her shoulder into the corner of the intersection. The rain drowned out the sound of the body falling in the street.

Ryann frantically steadied herself on the wall and looked up, breathing hard both from the run and the shock. The one person still standing in the rainy alley was backlit by a street lamp, so all Ryann could make out for sure was the shape of the weapon. A long, long weapon they had brandished at the ready even as they swiftly stepped aside to let the body drop into the rivulets of water pooling in the street from rain gutters. It glinted in the light, coming to a sharp tip.

Ryann blinked the rain out of her eyes, wanting to believe she imagined someone swinging an actual sword.

Something in the darkness came alive. Her night vision was ruined by the golden glow of a lamp further down the street, so she only noticed this new person running at her when they splashed through the puddles. She immediately backed away and fell into a fighting stance, hunched, fists at her jaw to protect her. A knife flashed in the dark and she felt it bite cold into the skin of her arm.

Her thoughts were racing. She tried to steady herself, to get her bearings and fight back, but it was all happening too fast. She managed to step out of the way of the person and the wildly slashing knife. Her assailant growled loudly. Inhumanly.

Another glint down the alley caught her eye, and she immediately cursed herself for taking her eye off her attacker. As she dodged to the side, away from the knife, Ryann saw the sword wielder toss their weapon up. They caught it below the cross guard, pulled back, and threw it like a spear.

Ryann slipped again in the dark on the wet stone street. Her knee hit the ground just as the sword pierced her attacker with a sickening crunch. She scrambled back against the wall in shock, and stared up at the hooded figure. They just stood there, then looked down at the three feet of steel emerging from their ribcage. Ryann couldn’t see their face, but she imagined they were similarly shocked. They fell to their knees in the rainy street and slumped down. The knife clattered to the ground.

Rain filled Ryann’s ears with its loud drumming, mingling with the sounds of her quickened breath. It beat down onto the stones and water with a gentle pitter-patter. The sound was so complete and unbroken that it felt deafening to her. She almost welcomed it when it was broken.

Heavy steps approached, splashing gently through the shallow puddles. Ryann remained huddled where she was, wet, with blood scent in her nose, holding her cut arm. She stared up at the approaching sword-thrower. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. Maybe she hadn’t expected anything at all. But the woman stepping out of the rain and into the half-dark where Ryann could see was somehow exactly what was fitting for the circumstances.

She was huge, over six feet tall and thick with muscle that her sweater clung to wet and black. Her stern face wore its three long, dark scars with an imposing dignity. Her eyes, which regarded Ryann with a stoic wariness, were the colour of varnished oak. Wavy, black hair fell to her shoulders wet and in a style so casual that it conveyed the no-shits-given attitude better even than the firm line of her mouth, which didn’t twitch or pull in any way to give her thoughts away.

When she spoke, her voice was deep and smooth, and Ryann couldn’t help but be intimidated by the profound effect it had on her. “You okay, kid?”

* * *

The Gift of Blood ©2022 by Vaela Denarr & Micah Iannandrea

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Vaela (She/They) and Micah (They/Them) are two queer authors in a long distance relationship. Their works focus on sapphic relationships, found families, and love in all its many forms, familial, aesthetic, romantic, etc. Their books also frequently feature themes of polyamory, learning about queerness, and subjects of consent.

Sign up here for Vaela Denarr & Micah Iannandrea ’s author newsletter.

URBAN FANTASY

COLD AS HELL BY NEEN COHEN

Blurb:

The town of OpenFields is cold as hell...

Magic exists in OpenFields, and everyone but Adie plays their part. So what happens when murder and strangers visit the secret town?

Adie's normal isn't "normal." Cameras watch her sleep, the eyes of the townsfolk narrow at her sight, and when she discovers her bosses' office in disarray, and a stranger who makes her heart thunder, her world changes forever.

Author Neen Cohen's Cold as Hell is an Urban Dark Fantasy like no other.

What secrets does OpenFields hold?

Adie's journey will rock the town to its foundation.

Tell us about this scene:

Adie and Tala, having not long met since the first murder in OpenFields, go looking for the victims daughter, only to find her missing with evidence of foul play.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

The start of chapter 3 and the plot thickens. A deeper insight into Adie's connections to the town and how she thinks, being smarter than she believes herself to be, without yet realising it.

* * *

Excerpt:

The air felt sucked out of Adie’s body as she stepped up to Lisa’s front door. The house was a modern marvel and stood out like a sore thumb surrounded by old weatherboard Queenslanders.

The door stood open, and the tang of Adie’s nightmare, stinging her nostrils and making her stomach churn, floated out from the house.

“Stay behind me.” Tala’s voice was rougher, and her arm pushed Adie back as though she weighed little more than the breeze.

In the back of Adie’s mind, she wondered why Tala didn’t pull out her gun, but she was too occupied with the smell permeating from the house that tried to suffocate her. She wasn’t even sure Tala had a gun. She hadn’t noticed one. And why would she carry one? But she looked so much like the detectives in the shows she recorded all week and would binge watch on the weekends.

Adie flicked through a stack of insults she had lived with, about her lack of life and too much time watching crime series. It was true, and she enjoyed watching them, but the sneer behind the words drilled holes in her armour.

She shook her head, but the thoughts were replaced with images of Lisa, with her shoulder length platinum blonde hair that Adie loved running her fingers through. She had even plaited it one night when they lay in bed, the room smelling of sweat and sex, while Lisa talked about the latest books she had ordered for the library. Lisa was the one who had gotten Adie interested in those crime shows and obsessed with reading true crime books. But people didn’t know that. They didn’t know anything about the two of them outside of them being work colleagues.

Adie forced out a breath and focused on the dark blackish spill that blocked out a fair chunk of the cream plush carpet of Lisa’s living room. The small red-turned-brown wine stain from one of Adie’s fumbles was now gone. Her guilt, now hidden beneath a large tacky looking rug, was irrelevant beneath the horror of not knowing what had happened to Lisa, of losing Lisa. Even a secret friendship was better than having no one.

“Lisa?” Adie called, voice wavering and all too shrill.”

The look Tala flashed at Adie made her extremely grateful the woman didn’t have a gun drawn. She bit her top lip, her hands shaking and her legs moving automatically in follow-the-leader mode.

The house wasn’t big. Two bedrooms, a kitchen, the living room, and a bathroom she had often joked about swinging a cat in.

It felt as though lifetimes passed as she quietly followed Tala’s search. All cupboards and doors peered behind, and beds looked beneath.

“She’s not here.” Tala’s shoulders dropped slightly.

“Is she, I— Is she dead?”

“Blood spreads a long way,” Tala rested warm fingers on Adie’s cheek. She tried to hide the shiver that ran across the back of her shoulder. She shouldn’t be having thoughts like this about another woman, especially in Lisa’s living room while Lisa was bleeding and missing. “There’s no telling just how much is there, but from my educated guess, she was alive when she left here.”

Adie hadn’t expected Tala to be so open. Perhaps she really had seen too many cop shows.

* * *

Cold As Hell ©2022 by Neen Cohen

Published by Nordic

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Neen Cohen is known as many things: author, hyperactive bookworm, taphophile, the crazy lady who randomly dances to music in her head, in public, without alcohol. She’s a loud and proud Aussie known for throwing sharp objects at chunks of wood when not with her family.

Sign up here for Neen Cohen ’s author newsletter.

WOLF HEALER BY HUCKLEBERRY RAHR

Blurb:

A young shifter excited to take her place in the pack. A savage attack that could destroy her future.

Jade Stone cherishes her family. With loving parents and a supportive community, the fifteen-year-old queer soon-to-be-werewolf can’t wait to take her place in the pack as a healer. But when she’s invited to vacation in Florida, she discovers the shocking existence of werepanthers… after one bites her.

Returning to her native Wisconsin with feline blood coursing through her, Jade is confused and disappointed when former packmates shun her. As she navigates a brand of bigotry she never knew existed, Jade fears she may be exiled from the home and family she loves.

Ostracized and alone, will Jade find a place she belongs?

Wolf Healer is a book for anyone who enjoys urban fantasy books with werewolves, strong female leads, and unexpected twists and turns. It’s a book anyone and everyone can enjoy.

Buy Wolf Healer today and prowl with new friends as they navigate wereanimals, life paths they never expected, and of course, school

Tell us about this scene:

Jade just had lunch with her friends and was invited to Florida for spring break. The bell rang and she's off to gym class.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It shows her relationship with her brother and other people at school. Then it shows she isn't perfect. She's in gym class, clumsy, but manages. I also like how we meet Piper, and see Jade's reaction to her.

* * *

Excerpt:

“God, she is such a freak.” The words were forced out around the smacking of gum.

There were several students around me all placing trays in the return window. Closing my eyes for a second, an elbow jammed into my rib cage. Wincing, I took a calming breath and headed for the exit, shooting a quick glance towards the voice I’d recognized. 

A little behind me and to my left were two of the pretty people. Seniors. Popular. A guy a bit taller than me, blond with wavy hair, arms wrapped around the waist of a petite cheerleader with her hair up in a ponytail. It was game day, so he wore his school jersey and she was in her form-hugging tiny uniform.

Go Stolzburg Pumas. Yeah…escape was the best plan. 

His voice reached me as surely as hers had. He wanted to soften her sharp evaluation of me, a mere sophomore. “Don’t be mean, Brooke.”

Her voice slithered out like a snake. “Why do you defend her? I thought you didn’t like anyone in your family?” 

“She’s my sister. No reason to call her out. No one is as perfect as you.”

Gag. Shaking my head, I made a beeline for the door. Their voices still reached me, even as I quickened my pace.

Why did the words to hurt? Owen, my brother, loved me. Brooke on the other hand was broken. His decision to try to date her was beyond anyone’s comprehension. Everyone knew they were a bad couple. Something was wrong in her family, and it made her hate all families. She had a group of friends and outside of them, she was nasty. 

The crowd to get out of the cafeteria thickened. Squeezing through with a desperation to escape, I tried not to knock too many people over. Lunch had been so good, and now this. Suddenly, gym didn’t loom as horrible. My attempts to flee were thwarted by the throngs of students. 

“Brooke!” Owen’s voice came over the crowd.

Her brown ponytail flipped its way through the pack of students. No one was willing to stand in her way. 

What had he said to set her off? Did I want to know? Nope, not really.

The hallway to the gym had no other classrooms so it was free of most students, I could finally breathe. Rolling my shoulders to release the tension that was Brooke, a hand fell on me, stopping my progress to class. 

My brother stood there, contrite. “What?” I snapped.

“Sorry.”

Releasing a breath of air, I glared up at him. “Whatever.”

“No, really. I don’t know what it is about her. I really like her, she just isn’t about family. I guess hers is pretty awful.”

“But Owen, you are and yours isn’t.”

“I know. I just…I dunno…I’m sorry…” He checked his watch. “I gotta run, class.” And he was off.

“Whatever,” I mumbled again to myself as I resumed my trek to class. 

Relationships were dumb. Cheerleaders were dumb. 

In the locker room I changed and finally dragged myself to gym class. 

There was a foot of snow on the ground outside, so class was indoors. Basketball. 

Mr. Nelson, the gym teacher, loved his job. He was a huge bear of a man, well over six feet tall with thick muscular limbs. He wore gym shorts and a t-shirt regardless of temperature and was hairy enough that he looked like he was wearing pants. 

I giggled at my own joke. 

He eyed me suspiciously before starting class. “Listen up. Warm up, three laps. Then we will get into our teams from last week.”

Three laps…around the room…doable. No problem. I was fit. My family worked out regularly. We had to, it was part of our lives. 

“Go!”

The mass of sophomores went.

Jogging. Working out for me meant martial arts training or weights, not running. Though exercise was important in the pack, what we choose varied. Stay in the middle, Jade. Is that Piper ahead of me?

Focus on running. The back of the pack is okay, right? 

One lap done. Keep your breathing steady. 

“Pick it up, Ms. Stone!” 

The snap of his voice shook me from my thoughts. I’d fallen behind everyone else. Crap.

Why did he always point out that I was falling behind? Couldn’t he tell I tried? Couldn’t he focus on someone else?

Okay, faster, running faster, that was possible, wasn’t it?

Pushing down deep, my legs moved faster and suddenly there were the other trailing students. One, then two. Ouch! A knife spiked into my side as my heavy breathing led to a stitch. I had to slow down, but that wasn’t an option. 

Two laps done.

Why do Sarah and Owen enjoy doing this? Could this be enjoyable? 

Pumping my arms harder, trying to get my legs to comply, the stitch in my side got sharper.

A quarter of a lap to the end. Most of the other students were just standing there watching those of us who were too slow to have finished already. Gods, that chapped my…

The room rolled around me as I tripped on nothing, falling. I continued the motion out of the way of the other runners…both of them. There were more balls stuck in the ceiling rafters than the last time I’d ended up like this. Four this time.  

Groaning, my face burned with embarrassment. Lying on my back, panting, my side hurt, my legs hurt, my soul hurt. Was this why Brooke called me a freak?

“Ms. Stone, on your feet.” Mr. Nelson called out, his voice a mixture of exasperation and disappointment.

A small hand waved in front of my face. I shifted my focus from the balls stuck behind lights to two lovely blue eyes. Piper. My heart pounded in my chest as a small smile grew on my face and I let her pull me up.

“Thanks,” I said shyly. 

“No problem,” she replied, before running off. 

Mr. Nelson surveyed the class. “Ok, now that the excitement of the run is over, get your jerseys so we can play ball.”

* * *

Wolf Healer ©2021 by Huckleberry Rahr

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Huckleberry Rahr grew up with lesbian moms with a huge collection of women authors. Her favorite genre was fantasy, that is, until she discovered urban fantasy. She found the books lacked diversity in background, gender identity, and sexuality. She decided if she couldn’t find that, then she’d write it.

Sign up here for Huckleberry Rahr ’s author newsletter.

SPECULATIVE FICTION

IN BETWEEN: STORIES OF THE EVERVERSE BY DARBY HARN

Blurb:

Fifty years after an alien ship crashed in Break Pointe, the only protection in a strange new world is Great Power, a corporation of superhumans. If you can afford them. Most people can’t.

Enter Kit Baldwin, a young woman who helps people to help people. Except her power is the alien’s power, and she may be more of a danger to her city than she is a help.

Kit navigates making her city work again even as she struggles to make her life work. She struggles to connect with her girlfriend Abi, who she can't touch because of her powers. Together, they face their challenges together and make a connection in unexpected ways.

This collection of stories and novellas follows Kit's journey in a series that's been called 'the next logical step after Watchmen.'

Tell us about this scene:

Kit and Abi connect after Kit fights The Straw Men gang.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene I think best illuminates Kit and Abi's dynamic. They're two people without any boundaries who are closed off for different reasons. They experience love in a way that Kit's power makes unique and that erases the distance and flesh and blood. But still, there's this gap that remains because of the circumstances they're in. The secrets they hide. The reality they keep trying to overcome but always have to yield to.

* * *

Excerpt:

Her shadow flickers against the wall, ignorant of shape. Limitations. Abi stares out the window of the apartment, bathed in the tempestuous orange denying the night in the south.

“You were like a dragon,” Abi says, her voice hollow. “Breathing fire. You melted their castle.”

I leave my jacket on the back of a chair at the kitchen table. I sink into the chair, exhausted as much from my demolition of the amusement park as I am my grief.

I sigh. “It wasn’t The Straw Men.”

“Decided to ask questions later, huh?”

“I got mixed up.”

“I don’t care,” Abi says. “I really don’t care.”

I don’t know if I do, either. I don’t know if that bothers me. The Straw Men are a menace, guilty of innumerable crimes. They’re a threat to the safety and welfare of the city I’m charged to protect, and there’s no negotiating with them. No deterring them. None of the rules or laws of society apply to them. What matter was society; what matter was the law in dealing with people not alive or dead or even human anymore.

What’s the matter.

Abi’s silhouette flutters in the window. “If it wasn’t The Straw Men, who was it?”

I pull at my curls. It couldn’t just be that a boy decided to murder all of his classmates. His teacher. That wasn’t possible; that didn’t fit into any theory I have.

“A man named Welby at least had contact with the diffuser,” I say. “Harrow is going to try and find him for me.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”

Abi pulls at her nightshirt. “I heard this thunder. You were still in bed. I didn’t want to wake you. You don’t sleep. I went to the window, but you were out there, too.”

I bury my face in my hands, trying to box this away, but I can’t. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

“You can project, like Siski.”

“It’s me. I’m me, Abi.”

Abi sniffles a laugh. “I couldn’t even tell.”

My shame has always been doing too much for someone else. I’ve never been guilty of doing the least amount possible until right now, with the woman I love more than my own life.

I bite my lip. “I just wanted to be here. I wanted to be here and still do everything I need to do, but I can’t do anything.” I think I expect Abi to come to me, to rush in as she always does, but Abi keeps to the window. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Abi stares out the window. “My dad owns a funeral home.”

I go to her. “You told me.”

Tears streak Abi’s face. “There’s only death there. Bones. Ash.”

I take her hands in mine. “Abi…”

Abi looks down at her hands, the way she did in the school when they had been covered in someone else’s blood. “Death doesn’t bother me. Things don’t bother me.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Abi wrinkles her nose. “You put things away. I never take things on. I just kind of keep going, you know. I don’t know what to feel. I think I’m supposed to be shocked, but I’m not.”

“It’s ok, Abi.”

“Is it? Am I ok?”

I take her in my arms. “You’ve been through so much.”

Abi traces filaments of light as they swim beneath my skin. “I want to tell you everything.”

“About the attack?”

She rests her head on my chest. “Everything.”

“You can tell me. Abi, I’m always here for you. I know – I know that sounds silly. I want to be here for you. If I’d lost you… I was so afraid I was going to lose you.”

“I was afraid you were going to find me.”

“What?”

Light bends through her tears, creating undulant shadows on the ceiling. “I remember thinking, what if she walks in here and sees me like this? What will she think? What will I say?” 

I hold her close. “You’re ok. We’re ok.”

Abi breathes into my neck. “Don’t ever let me go.”

“Never.”

Abi’s hands slide down to my waist. “I love you.”

“I love you, Abi.”

Her hands slip farther. “Say it again.”

Our lips touch. “I love you.”

Abi kisses me, hard. Our lovemaking has been playful, tentative, even fearful but now it’s hungry. Desperate. Her fingers claw into my shirt. Skin glides through the membrane of my light and I remember skin. Heat. Feather softness. My humanity resurrects as Abi tears away the skin of my clothes. Energy snaps from my burning heart. Her every nerve illuminates like summer lightning.

“I’m only alive with you,” Abi whispers into my ear, as light pink and furious dances through the universe of her body.

* * *

In Between: Stories of the Eververse ©2022 by Darby Harn

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* * *

About the Author:

Darby Harn writes a lot of books, including the SPSFC Quarterfinalist Ever The Hero. His short fiction appears in Strange Horizons, Interzone, and other venues.

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HISTORICAL FICTION

THE SECRET OF MATTERDALE HALL BY MARIANNE RATCLIFFE

Blurb:

Susan Mottram lives an idyllic existence until her eighteenth birthday, when her father's sudden death plunges the family into penury. To support her mother and younger sister, Susan takes employment as a teacher at a remote Yorkshire boarding school, Matterdale Hall, owned by the radical Dr Claybourn and his penny-pinching wife. Susan soon discovers that all is not as it seems. Why is little Mary so silent? What really happened to Susan's predecessor? Is anyone safe in the school's draughty halls? Through a life-changing meeting with the beautiful and mysterious Cassandra, Susan begins to uncover the truth about Matterdale Hall, and discovers the cruelty, and love, that can lie within the human heart.

Tell us about this scene:

Susan Mottram, an impoverished teacher, and three of her pupils (Anne, Isabella and Mary), have been invited to spend Christmas day at the home of the wealthy Mr Sutcliffe and his reclusive daughter, Cassandra, who is biracial and deaf, and generally shuns society. She and Susan have become acquainted, Susan learning sign language so they can communicate. In the scene, sign language is italicized. They have just finished a very fine dinner and have retired to the drawing room.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I usually edit extensively, but this scene remains almost exactly as I first wrote it, which I suspect means I got something right. It is a pivotal moment in the book and in Susan's life - a moment of sexual awakening. What pleases me as I re-read it, is that it captures both the physical and the emotional aspects of Susan's experience, whilst using language appropriate to the era.

* * *

Excerpt:

After a lull, Isabella asked if they could play charades. Instead, Susan suggested a game of The Sculptor. Since it required no words, all might participate. Neither Mr Sutcliffe nor Cassandra

knew the game. Susan explained that they must nominate a sculptor whose task was to place the others in strange poses, from which they must not move, laugh, or make any sign.

‘I shall not be party to such nonsense,’ Mrs Grainger said. ‘Mr Sutcliffe, I’m sure, will not relish such childishness.’

Mr Sutcliffe owned he was still a little breathless but would happily watch from his chair.

‘I shall begin,’ offered Susan, setting Isabella, Anne and Mary into the form of the three Graces. She made them each balance on one leg. Cassandra seemed ill at ease as Susan reached out to pull her towards the others.

Do not be alarmed.

As carefully as if she were working with precious marble, Susan guided Cassandra into a position with her slender arms stretched out in supplication. She stepped back and examined her living statues thoughtfully. Cassandra’s eyes flicked towards Susan who wagged her finger with a smile.

No moving.

Susan then began an elaborate pantomime, pretending that she was an old woman, bending over as if her back hurt and waddling comically about the room, her grimacing face low to the ground. Eppy decided this was a delightful addition to her game and jumped up to lick Susan’s face. Susan tried to brush her away, but Eppy stood up on her back legs and continued to lick Susan’s nose. Cassandra burst into unconstrained laughter and the Graces collapsed inwards, clutching each other to stop themselves falling.

‘Miss Sutcliffe laughed first,’ said Isabella.

You are now the sculptor, Susan explained. Cassandra raised an eyebrow. She worked first on the girls, bending them into hoops with their hands touching the ground. Susan waited her turn. For some reason, her heart began to flutter wildly. Cassandra turned to her and rested her hand lightly on the small of Susan’s back, spinning her round so that Susan was facing away from her. She then moved her hands to encircle Susan’s wrists. Susan felt a tremor run through her. There was a divinity in Cassandra’s touch beyond her comprehension. She felt like the Promethean clay statues, breathed into life by Athena. Every hair on her body prickled and she could feel every pulse of blood as it throbbed through her veins. As Cassandra’s fingers brushed against the nape of her neck, easing her head down, Susan gasped at the tumult that raged beneath her skin. Yet the rules of the game prescribed she must stay motionless. It was a moment of exquisite torture. She sensed Cassandra behind her but, even had she been permitted to look, she would have been too afraid, for such was the strange sorcery swirling around the room, she feared that the merest glimpse of her sweet tormentor might transform her, like Danae, into a shower of rain. Or was it Zeus that was the rain? She couldn’t remember. One of the girls must have moved, because there was laughter.

‘My turn!’ Isabella exclaimed, but Susan, her legs weak and trembling, begged they would continue without her. She retreated to a window seat to compose her body and her thoughts. So difficult did this task prove, she was barely mistress of herself before becoming aware that Mrs Grainger had ordered the carriage to take them back to Matterdale Hall via Hustanton. Mr Sutcliffe protested that it was too early, but Mrs Grainger insisted that his health was too important to be trifled with, and the party was broken up.

* * *

The Secret of Matterdale Hall ©2022 by Marianne Ratcliffe

Published by Bellows Press

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

A biochemist by training, Marianne Ratcliffe had short stories published in literary magazines and was runner up in the Guildford Book Festival short story competition in 2010. In 2017, redundancy spurred her to focus on creative writing, resulting in The Secret of Matterdale Hall, a Victorian-era sapphic romance/mystery.

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WHEN BUTCHES CRY BY GENTA SEBASTIAN

Blurb:

Traf competes with men, wears male clothing, and steals their jobs. A fighter, damn the consequences, she’s totally unsuited to the mundane role of a mid-twentieth century Azorean woman. A tomboy with sinful inclinations, her future depends on escaping the old-world island of Terceira. No matter what it takes, Traf’s going to America where women can do as they like, make their own money, and live without the permission of men. She’s got no time for ‘good’ women who try to conform.

Insecure, convinced she’s hopelessly inadequate, shy Ana joins the group calling themselves Troublemakers, a private club for women who love women. The pretty, golden-haired young woman could have her pick of lovers, but her heart yearns for the mischievous butch with the dark, brooding eyes. Fascinated by Traf since they were schoolgirls together, Ana knows it’s hopeless; how could such a strong, capable, passionate woman ever love her?

Gossiping women, egotistical men, Catholic priests, the US Air Force, and even their families, thwart them at every turn. Fighting for their right to exist in peace, Traf, Ana, and the other Troublemakers create a thriving subculture in a hostile world. And no matter what happens, there’s something they all know for sure; a butch never cries.

Tell us about this scene:

Traf and her lesbian friends, the Troublemakers, live on an Azorean island in the middle of the 20th century. The young women band together to build a private clubhouse, a safe place to gather. This scene happens just before the place, dubbed Troublemakers, is finished and ready to open.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I knew “Girly-Men”, as I listed the scene in my outline, was essential to the growth of the young women in When Butches Cry. My characters, raised in the same culture of systemic bigotry that condemned them, needed to recognize the mirrored ugliness within themselves before they could fight it.

A little backstory: The basis of the book is my contention that for three generations triple the usual number of homosexuals were born into the Catholic population of the 1960’s Azores islands. I believe Mother Nature forced a diaspora to reinvigorate the gene pool.

Triple the number of young lesbians meant they found each other earlier in life and were able to band together, helping each other as they learned about themselves, what they wanted, and what they’d fight for. Unlike their American and British counterparts, young Azorean lesbians of the mid-20th century had the numbers and ability to support each other publicly.

My research for When Butches Cry was through first person conversations remembering very real trials and triumphs. Although the stories in the novel are fictitious, the essence of them is real. The experiences of the young women in my book were firmly based on fact, including what happened one night on a beach when a bunch of bullies finally got what they had coming to them.

I write Sapphfic because we’re not just any women, or a sub-group, or a movement, or any other titles that try and define us. We’re full-blown, ripe, and ready souls living authentic lives deserving of respect. And part of our unique, totally unequaled culture, has always been to extend protection to those in need. We fight the fights others won’t.

Maybe that’s why this scene is one of my favorites. I’ve faced down bullies, I bet you have too. And Troublemakers or not, we learn more about ourselves in the process.

* * *

Excerpt:

Nights on Terceira were stifling that summer. Every spare hour they had, Traf and the Troublemakers worked on their clubhouse, but at sunset they’d walk down to the beach and build a fire. They brought food and drink to share while sitting on warm sand, telling stories and swapping lies, always making sure enough of them gathered to keep bullies at bay.

Their frustrated tormentors turned on a smaller group that gravitated to the outskirts of the young women’s fire. The Troublemakers weren’t the only homosexuals on the island. Gay men took an interest in the Troublemaker’s club, even suggesting it be open to them as well. Traf laughed when she heard; the last thing she’d allow in their clubhouse were men. Much less girly-men.

When the queers, oddly feminine in look and manner, started building their campfire nearby, the butches flexed their muscles, shouted insults in their direction, and threw sand to drive them away. The girly-men kept creeping back, however, and the women grudgingly accepted their persistence.

The Troublemakers heard a ruckus one night and looking over they watched a half-dozen drunk bullies attack the men, cursing, destroying their fire, dragging, kicking, and beating them. The young women turned back to their fire. When men had a problem they dealt with it. Island women never interfered in the business of men.

The bullies were ruthless, repeatedly attacking the stubborn, battered men sitting peacefully at their campfire. Night after night shouted curses pierced the evening quiet. The sounds of ferocious beatings, cries of pain, and fearful whimpering finally broke through to the Troublemakers’ collective consciousness.

One night a week after it began, the bullies arrived and started beating the queers. Without a word spoken between them, six butches rose as one. Carrying firewood as weapons, they encircled the gay men’s fire. A heavy plank harvested from a construction site felt effective in Traf’s hands as she inched through the darkness. Manuela whistled and the butches struck.

Bullies never expect anyone to protect their victims, especially other victims. Shrieking, howling, whacking and kicking, the Troublemakers earned their name once more, besieging the tormentors. They knew these guys and owed them for many old insults and injuries. Vengeful, enraged butches chased them down to the water’s edge as the stunned and bleeding queers stared after them. 

Bare heels kicked up frothing wavelets as the Troublemakers pounded the men mercilessly, driving them seaward. Using each other as shields, blindly seeking escape, the bruised and bleeding bullies finally broke away, howling like little children and limping off into the darkness. 

The Troublemakers scampered back to their fire. Rejoining the femmes and guardian butches, they victoriously slapped backs and regaled each other with heroic tales.

“I hit him so hard he saw stars.”

“They won’t be back anytime soon.”

“That’ll teach ‘em.”

They quieted, though, when the gay men approached. 

The girly-men, freshly patched up a bit, stood in the shadows of the women’s firelight.  One stepped forward and thrust a basket into Traf’s hands.

His voice quavered with awe, “Thanks.” A whispered word easily forgotten, blown briskly away over the sands of time. 

Instead it rang like a bell in her mind. Were we the first to ever side with them? She watched them stumble back to their fire.

Obviously brought to share among themselves, the basket overflowed with fresh fruit, cheese, and a bottle of wine, an expression of their gratitude. Traf passed it around and the Troublemakers tasted sweet victory. They began talking about the strange men, looking over to be sure they weren’t overheard.

“Why didn’t they fight back?” Berta peeled an orange. “Wimps, needing women to fight their battles. Probably still suck on their mamas’ titties!” 

No one laughed.

“Where are their ‘butches’?” Teresa spit a peach pit into the fire.

Margarida drank from the wine bottle before handing it on. “Yeah. Where are their big, strong, protectors?” Pulling the ever-present harmonica from her breast pocket, she began playing softly.

“Probably passing as regular guys.” Manuela shrugged. “Butchy gay men look normal. They can’t join that group without being recognized for what they are. Like you girls.” She nodded at the femmes. “No one knows who you are unless you’re with us.”

“So, we’re braver than their butches?” Ana gaped.

“Those guys disgust me.” Teresa grimaced. “Sometimes they use my taxi. I need the business so I don’t refuse, but a couple wear women’s perfume. They stink worse than normal men.”

Still high from the fight, Traf stated boldly, “They’re the exact opposite of us lesbians!” Her next words stunned even her. “Perversions of human flesh!”

All heads snapped toward Traf then quickly away. How often had each Troublemaker heard that phrase, or one like it, used against her? 

Silence dropped heavily over them; even Margarida stopped playing her harmonica. Traf’s words, heavy with implications, hung in the air demanding examination.

Time expanded in a heavy introspection impossible to break. The rising full moon offered wisdom imparted by the crackle of beach fires, a soft male laugh dancing on a breeze from the men’s camp to theirs, and the rhythmic waves of Mother Earth’s heartbeat.

Head and shoulders bent, Traf listened and learned. 

I didn’t really mean it! Those girly-men might be my exact opposite but they’re more like me than the straight people who hate us both. 

The ugliness of her words frightened her. I wish I never said them, let alone ever thought them. I can’t be… I won’t be a bully!

After that night the Troublemakers no longer shooed away the men, even allowed them to build their fire a bit closer. Someone referred to them as ‘our brothers’ which swiftly became their accepted name; no one called them queers or girly men anymore. Gifts of food were sometimes exchanged or shared. Teresa’s taxi business grew prosperous. And while the groups didn’t join together, the Troublemakers began watching out for and extending protection to their new brothers. 

After all, family is family.

* * *

When Butches Cry ©2016 by Genta Sebastian

Published by Sapphire Books Publishing

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* * *

About the Author:

Award winning author Genta Sebastian lives in Minnesota, exists on the edge of effectiveness, and writes in the nude. At her age, it’s not the thrill it once was.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE DANGER OF FEMALE CURIOSITY BY SUZANNE MOSS

Blurb:

“At once the easiest truth to know, and the hardest to realise”

Thea Morell, Georgian heiress and eligible lady, is not normal. At least, that’s what she has come to believe. She loves nothing more than spending hours at the study of natural history, collecting fossils, insects, dead fish, bones and even the odd spider. Up to now, she has held off her mother’s entreaties to marry, but this year may be her last chance to make a good match and the pressure is mounting.

In her search for scientific truth, Thea also begins to acknowledge a truth about herself - a most inconvenient one which sparks at the lips of the ‘electrical venus’ and bursts into flame in the presence of the very proper Lady Eleanor Harrington. Despite her attempts to observe and understand, this particular truth defies all rationalisation. Has her obsession with the male-dominated world of natural history caused the unnatural tendencies she can’t seem to control? And more importantly, can she protect her family’s interests whilst reconciling the dual passions of her mind and her heart?

Tell us about this scene:

An early scene in the book, we understand the context of Thea's learning - encouraged by the brilliance of her father, sister and friend, but also the reticence of her mother and the hopes that Thea will hide her true loves in order to marry well.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It is - at least - my favourite without providing any huge spoilers! In this scene I love the interaction between many of the important people in Thea's life. Her father who encouraged her collecting, her sister, Ursula, who is a kindred spirit, and the inimitable Martha, Countess of Foxmore, who is always a champion for Thea's learning and future happiness. Despite Mrs Morell's awfulness she was enormous fun to write with her over-the-top neuroses and dreadful views of a lady's place in eighteenth century society. It is so like Martha to ease her down gently with logic and reason, so Mrs M has to shut up, but really doesn't want to.

The scene also contains a line which my editor called her 'new favourite line in all of literature,' which I sometimes like to believe is true (it obviously isn't).

* * *

Excerpt:

Scip gestured to a small group of plants in pots, small hummocks made up of delicate, pinnate leaves. ‘Your sensitive plants are quite well, my lady, they have matured to the point of movement.’ In order to prove it he ran a finger down the midrib of one of the tiny leaves. At the contact the two halves of the leaves folded inwards and the whole leaf dropped on its stalk. Scip smiled. ‘And they do it at night, just as they’re meant to.’

Martha leaned her tall frame to study one more closely while she gave it a stroke with a gentle finger. The leaves duly shrank away from her touch. ‘Excellent.’ She stood taller and Thea saw her eyes gleam. ‘They will give up their secrets in the fullness of time, observation and effort.’ She fixed Scip with a purposeful stare. ‘You have your record book?’

‘I do,’ he confirmed, patting the pocket of his work coat, ‘and we have enough plants to make a good study.’ He cast a furtive glance to Mrs Morell, ‘in fact, they did so well that I have pressed some for the herbarium collection. They are waiting in the library closet for Miss Ursula to label them appropriately in her very neat handwriting.’ He flashed his bright grin at Ursula who smiled shyly.

Martha beamed at them both. ‘I assume you will use the new Linnaean system?’ Ursula opened her mouth to respond when Mrs Morell, idly twiddling the fronds of an asparagus fern, snapped her head around.

‘Oh no you don’t, missy, I’ve heard all about that from Mrs Denby at the Ladies’ Club. Disgusting! All about the – lady and man parts of the plants. Trust a man to come up with that. You stay away from that, young lady, I’m not having your mind corrupted by dirty gardeners in the Netherlands.’ 

Martha took a breath to respond when, without missing a beat, Ursula did so herself. ‘Of course mother, would you be happier if I used the binomial system instead?’ 

Mrs Morell looked pleased that, for once, her intervention had been so effective. ‘Why yes I would Ursula, that sounds much more respectable.’ Ursula nodded and Thea and Martha shared an amused glance. They both knew the binomial system was simply another name for Mr Linnaeus’s new sexual system of classification which had recently set the botanical world alight. It was not without controversy, but still, there was no reason for Mrs Morell to know.

‘That does not mean,’ started Mrs Morell shrilly, making both Thea and her father jump a little, ‘that I am happy with the girls engaging in this kind of inappropriate activity. They are getting too old to be frivolously flirting with such follies. They have always been too interested in learning and you’ – she poked at Mr Morell with an accusatory finger – ‘have done nothing to stop it.’

‘I, um…’ said Mr Morell, fiddling with a copper label he had picked from the bench.

‘And you, Martha.’ Mrs Morell now rounded on the Countess who looked up from studying her pocket watch. Her hastily raised gaze and the flicker of an eyebrow betrayed her surprise. ‘How you encourage them, and you know they look up to you. Ladies should make a good wife and be able to run a household. Any other education is a distraction and gives them unnecessary… ideas.’

Martha flicked her pocket watch shut with a snap, pocketed it, and laid a soothing hand on Mrs Morell’s arm. ‘Oh come now my dear Euphemia, you of course know that it is good for a lady to exercise her mind.’ She had plenty of experience of placating her friend and Thea marvelled at the art of it. ‘It prevents her from becoming boring in company. Some ladies have no ideas at all and it is so irksome.’

‘But these are not ideas that a lady can or should be admitting to in company.’ Mrs Morell’s voice became shrill as she gestured around the stove house. ‘You cannot have failed to notice my eldest’s lack of success, and at her age!’ They all knew that Mrs Morell was talking about marriage, the delay in this much hoped-for event made Mrs Morell more desperate every year. ‘No man wants an educated wife, learned women do too much thinking. And who will have her at all if she ever forgets herself and mentions spiders when she’s out in society?’

Thea saw Martha press her tongue to her teeth to battle a grin. ‘I do appreciate your concerns, Euphemia, but I am certain that Thea will not have any man who wants a dumb wife and neither should she. Any husband might as well know at the start, otherwise it’s only going to be a shock when she turns up at his house with eel skins and butterflies. Women have a place in the new intellectual order and there is no shortage of people who appreciate Thea’s virtues, you mark my words.’

Mrs Morell harumphed and muttered something about how nobody must ever know, but knew she would never triumph in this argument with Martha. Thea thanked the Countess with a grateful smile. 

* * *

Observations on the Danger of Female Curiosity ©2022 by Suzanne Moss

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* * *

About the Author:

Dr Suzanne Moss is a horticultural education professional and researcher in eighteenth-century gardens and collections. Sue lives in Hampshire, UK with her wife Milly and dogs Wilma and Pheebs. She is originally from Yorkshire and misses it. In her spare time she’s renovating a house, doing the garden and writing books.

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TIME TRAVEL

SAPPHO'S BAR AND GRILL BY BONNIE J. MORRIS

Blurb:

Lonely women's history professor Hannah Stern walks into her local lesbian bar one winter night, seeking love advice from her old friend and bartender, Isabel. "Women's history will be my date this year!" Hannah raises her glass in sarcastic tribute, resigned to life as a scholar, but her remarks sets in motion a wild, sexy-smart romp through time. Much to her astonishment, Hannah soon finds herself meeting up with the actual figures and foremothers she assigns her own college students to learn about. She's caught in a time-travel vortex: one that seemingly emanates from Sappho's Bar and Grill.

What are these figures of the past trying to tell Hannah? What wisdom do they share/ Will she find romance with women who loved women in the past? Or will she take a chance on her old friend Isabel, whose drinks and potions seems to hold the secret of time travel itself?

Tell us about this scene:

A mystical seduction scene on New Year's Eve allows our heroine to travel back in time, her lovemaking interspersed with guest appearances by Sappho and Joan of Arc.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

A lesbian historian, I identify keenly with the notion of time travel; the idea of connecting with lesbians of the past and their environments. I'm also keenly invested in making the writing and telling of women's history more sexy and compelling. And this selection was literally the climactic scene in a very magical book about a frustrated professor (me, ever so thinly disguised) who finally gets the girl of her dreams in the final chapter. I wrote this sex scene while enjoying the honor of a writing residency at Hedgebrook; when I arrived I was given the cabin usually used by Gloria Steinem--talk about being inspired by the haunting vibes of a feminist foremother (a living one, in Gloria's case)! I'd work in the morning on the history research part of my book, then bike with eagles circling overhead, then spend the afternoon writing the sex scenes with my carefully cued-up music and sensual snacks at hand. I can remember al this whenI reread the lines I composed that summer.

This scene is also a favorite because it sums up so much of how I really feel about kissing, landscapes (I love to make out in gorgeous backgrounds and recall one volcano in particular), and the seductiveness of our past as lesbians across time. Yeah, baby! It's important to me as a scholar to challenge myself by also writing with fiction and poetry with women's history as themes; I was delighted by the rave reviews of my time-travel story and later headed off to another writing residency in Wales (asa gorgeous) to write the sequel, Sappho's Overhead Projector.

* * *

Excerpt:

Isabel folded her hands on top of the bar counter as if in prayer. Then she slowly unfolded left hand from right, and bent her head ever so slightly toward Hannah’s. There was an opening there. And Hannah thought of openings, doors and time tunnels, and women’s spaces opening in the body. With one last sip from the green glass between them, Hannah mustered up the courage to ask the one woman she had always loved, “Are you the portal I keep passing through to find what I can learn?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” said Isabel, and held out her long-fingered, expert mixing hand.

And Hannah took that hand, and took the dare.

The kiss was everything she had ever wanted.

She could never explain why kissing was so sacred to her, the act she had most missed. Little oral Valentines, waiting to be sent. The fat lively shelf of a pouty lower lip suddenly clamped in her gentlest bite. Then perhaps not so gentle, hungry, oral, oral. Driving fast on a soft curve of road on wheels of lip and tongue. The wandering tongue with its playful capacity to roll like an otter in direct pursuit of pleasure. Like origami, the shape of their mouths opening and folding over and over, ab initio ad infinitum. Was she actually thinking in Latin? The comet of lust shooting down from her damp mouth, from lower lip to lowest lip, dew gathering in her vulva. And if all of that in the first kiss, how utterly overpowering to get naked.

But she had tossed off her dress, her dress-up bra, her fragile seaglass necklace, her shoes, her winter tights. Without tights she was, indeed, quite loose. She felt herself opening up by inches. They fell back into the pit furniture, which had witnessed and supported so much kissing and touching through the years, so much seduction. Isabel’s body was not that of a ghost or a chimera. Its warmth was a realism and an answer, unlocking still more doors in Hannah, who bent upward to cup Isabel’s face in her own hands.

“Tell me: do you love women, or do you only love women’s history? You have forgotten, haven’t you? Or you cannot decide,” Isabel teased gently. “You teach the history of the female body, yet neglect your own. Do not neglect mine now.” From Isabel’s fingertips, leaves and flowers appeared, and vines grew underneath them, making a bed of branches. As the living bed flowered and branched beneath them, Isabel recited from The Language of Flowers, never removing her eyes from Hannah’s. “Magnificent beauty: Calla Aethiopica. Neglected beauty: Throatwort. Pensive beauty: Laburnum. Bonds of affection: Gillyflower. Consumed by love: Syrian Mallow. Cure for heart-ache: Swallow-wort.. Fire: Fleur-de-Luce. Inspiration: Angelica. Joys to come: Lesser Celandine.” She paused. “Love is dangerous: Carolina Rose. Passion: White Dittany…The witching soul of music: Oats. Win me and wear me: Ladyslipper.”

The plants in Isabel’s hands dissolved into tingling forest tinctures. She rubbed a line across Hannah’s left quadricep, which heated and flushed, oily steam curling upward and singing toward the open secret of her yoni. And Hannah begged her, “Open me up slowly; it’s been so long.”

“Time is just compression,” said Isabel, placing the green goblet between her own legs. It whirled with mystery, and Hannah looked into it and saw a wishing well. Coins lay in the bottom, winking brightly.

“Sip it out of me and toast the year,” Isabel ordered, her thighs gripping the goblet.

Hannah bent her face down to drink deep and then pulled back, caught in one final instant of hesitation. “No. This can’t be happening,” she moaned. “I’ve wanted you for so long, and I can’t, not now that I know who you are. I can’t fuck with time!”

“Sure you can,” smiled Isabel. “I have.” And as the two of them spread open to one another, the bar filled up with every lesbian from time.

Now couples rotated about them, in costumes long outdated, yet fresh and crisp and perfumed, sharp or sweet; there were cigars and ebony cigarette holders, the prewar dykes freely drinking absinthe, the twenties butches sharing bathtub gin from flasks. The flavors of the lesbian past passed between them as they made love on the old furniture, seemingly on an island in the bar, unnoticed by their foremothers in lust. Hannah tasted drinks in every kiss, old brandy, absinthe, honey mead, ouzo fresh from Lesbos. She was under Sappho, drinking Sappho, seawater in her mouth, alpha, beta, lambda.

“Moonlight,” Isabel called out. And then they were standing up, in woods more modern than Sappho’s time. Branches snapped underfoot as they shifted in clinch, their hips adjusting, pelvis to pelvis. The sweet green scent of a crushed fern filled Hannah’s nose. Then her nose was sideways under Isabel’s nose and her top lip in Isabel’s teeth. Then Isabel’s teeth were biting off Hannah’s buttons. Yes, that was how it had happened, so long ago in her own life. But Isabel paused and in a low voice commanded, “No: not yet. Not ahead. Back, earlier,” and the earth underfoot became soggy, mossy, the moonlight interrupted by tall figures. Women were meeting at a water source, nearby. One figure, clad in mail, came toward them.

“Vous?” whispered somebody young and strong; and then “Elle?”, and Isabel was Joan of Arc. Her short hair brushed against Hannah’s exposed breasts. She raised her face and laughed “Ne, je ne regret rien.” Her warrior hands dripped springwater onto Hannah’s nipples. Hannah threw out her arm and her open hand found a stump. It throbbed like a heartbeat under her damp palm. It was alive.

“I will fight,” said Joan. “Do not fight me.” And Hannah gave in, gave in, did not fight. Her hand flat on the beating stump, springwater beading on her backward arching neck. “Into battle now,” Joan breathed, peeling off chainmail. “I will command you. Ride.”

* * *

Sappho's Bar and Grill ©2017 by Bonnie J. Morris

Published by Bywater Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

A women's history professor at UC Berkeley, I'm the archivist for Olivia Records and the author of 19 books, including WHAT'S THE SCORE?, REVENGE OF THE WOMEN'S STUDIES PROFESSOR, THE FEMINIST REVOLUTION, SAPPHO's BAR and GRILL and SAPPHO's OVERHEAD PROJECTOR.

HORROR

THE WICKED AND THE WILLING BY LIANYU TAN

Blurb:

Love demands sacrifice. Her blood. Her body. Even her life.

Singapore, 1927.

Verity Edevane needs blood.

And not just anyone's blood. She craves the sweet, salty rush from a young woman's veins, the heady swirl of desire mixed with fealty—such a rarity in this foreign colony. It's a lot to ask. But doesn't she deserve the best?

Gean Choo needs money.

Mrs. Edevane makes her an offer Gean Choo can't refuse. But who is her strange, alluring new mistress? What is she? And what will Gean Choo sacrifice to earn her love?

Po Lam needs absolution.

After decades of faithfully serving Mrs. Edevane, Po Lam can no longer excuse a life of bondage and murder. She needs a fresh start. A clean conscience. More than anything, she needs to save Gean Choo from a love that will destroy them all.

A destitute maidservant must choose whom to love: her vampire mistress, or the woman trying to save her life in The Wicked and the Willing, a standalone, F/F steamy historical gothic horror vampire novel with a love triangle, a choice of endings and no cliffhangers. This novel contains two mutually exclusive endings, although most of the story is not interactive. Due to the mature content and dark themes, it is intended for adult readers only. It contains potentially disturbing scenes and an abusive romantic relationship between two women. Further content information is available from the author's website (lianyutan.com) and inside the book.

Tell us about this scene:

The year is 1927 in colonial Singapore. A vampire finds her maidservant has discovered the truth about her vampirism.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

The Wicked and the Willing is the book of my heart, and this scene is a gothic classic—the moment the plucky young heroine discovers a dark secret about her mistress. It oozes desire and the push-pull of Gean Choo’s reluctance, Verity’s insistence, and the interdependency of servant and mistress, human and vampire.

* * *

Excerpt:

Verity cracked open her door to the shuttered gloom. A half-circle of light emanated from the stairwell, which she avoided, creeping around to the open door of her study.

The girl stood by Verity’s desk, outlined by the orange glow of electric light gleaming upon the buttons on her dress, the garnets hanging from her ears. A feather duster dangled from the tip of one hand, forgotten. In the other she held a book, her lips moving occasionally to sound out the words.

She seemed utterly unconscious of the fact she was being watched. Her pulse was adagio, inviting. Scents clung to her—soap and sweat, shoe polish and pomade.

Verity’s mouth watered in response, her fingers curling by her sides. How pretty she’d looked on her knees, trembling and begging for mercy. How easy it would’ve been to tear open her throat that night; the sharp, sudden scent of blood from the piercings almost too much to bear.

Not now, though. They’d healed well enough. The girl had nothing to fear from her.

Verity crossed the room and glanced down at the open page. “Le Fanu. He had quite the imagination, didn’t he?”

Gean Choo shrieked, dropped the book and the duster, then pressed her palms over her chest. Her pulse jumped to allegretto. “M-mem. Good evening. I’m sorry, I was just—”

“Dusting, I know.”

If she touched her now, the girl would shrink from her, heart rate spiking again. She was not too sun-browned, the veins in her neck shining from beneath her skin.

Gean Choo bent and picked up the fallen objects. She held the book delicately, by the tips of her fingers, as if it were like to bite her.

Verity gave the girl space, circling around the desk and flopping down on the sofa, the flimsy silk of her robe draping over the edge. “Put the book down and come here.”

Gean Choo came and stopped a good two yards away from the sofa. She’d done a bit better with her waves today, managing to put some interest into her otherwise straight black hair. The cut suited her.

“‘Gean Choo.’ What does that mean?”

The girl raised her eyes, widening them a bit. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. She coughed into her sleeve and tried again. “Beautiful pearl,” she said and blushed.

“Pearl.” Verity smiled without showing her teeth. “You don’t mind if I call you ‘Pearl,’ do you?”

She shook her head.

Verity patted her dress for her cigarette case, but she was still in her nightgown. She silently cursed. “Come sit,” she said, tilting her head towards the end of the sofa. It sat three comfortably, though Verity was taking up two thirds, her feet dangling over the edge.

Pearl put down the book, went and sat, perched with hands on her lap, back rigidly straight. She looked ready to bolt.

“Do you suppose everything you read in books is real?” Verity asked, holding Pearl’s gaze. Pearl’s irises were thin rings of brown around her enormous pupils, her chest trembling as it rose and fell.

“No, Mem.”

“And yet, there’s a kernel of truth there, somewhere, if one looks hard enough.” Verity reached out and brushed the ends of Pearl’s hair, her fingers naturally falling to cup the girl’s chin. Her lips were slightly parted, lush and pink. She froze beneath Verity’s touch.

“What sort of truth do you mean, Mem?”

“About who I am. What I am.”

Pearl’s pulse beat softly. Living with humans was so distracting—the constant noise, the rasp of her breath, every little rustle as Pearl shifted her weight. Sometimes it was a wonder she didn’t go mad and slaughter them all.

“What are you, Mem?”

Verity’s next word came as a whisper. “Hungry.” Her teeth gnawed at the inside of her lip. If Pearl ran, she’d have to kill her. That would be a waste. It was so very hard to get blood out of the rugs.

Pearl’s breath stuttered in her throat when Verity brushed the side of her neck, when Verity clasped the curve of her shoulder through the dress. Her pulse was like a beacon, allegro, maddening.

Verity touched her nose behind Pearl’s ear and inhaled her terror, placing one palm on her hip to stop her from inching away. The girl was rigid, her flesh warm beneath Verity’s fingertips. “If you’d just let me have you,” she murmured, her lips against Pearl’s ear, “hold you. Taste you… I can show you the depths where pain becomes pleasure.”

A bead of sweat slid down the back of Pearl’s neck. Verity moved her head and kissed away its salt.

“Mem.”

“Yes, dear?”

Pearl’s hand opened and closed into a fist. “I feel you’ve hired me on false pretences.”

Verity laughed. “You wouldn’t have believed me if I’d told you the truth, you silly girl.”

Pearl tried to move away, but Verity’s hold on her was iron. Had she come on a little too strong? No. Beneath the sharp, sour scent of fear was the unmistakable musk of arousal.

Pearl closed her eyes then opened them, and glanced somewhere over Verity’s shoulder. “I said I’d do anything for you, Mem.”

“You did.” Verity brought her hand back to Pearl’s cheek, tilted her face up to look at her. Pearl’s eyes were larger than Po Lam’s, with a visible crease. Verity brushed her thumb over her mouth, and the girl’s lips parted. “Are we in agreement?”

There was only the sound of Pearl’s breathing, and from downstairs, the ticking of the grandfather clock. The light bulb hummed overhead, stuttering once.

“Yes,” Pearl whispered and glanced away, her cheeks flaming red.

* * *

The Wicked and the Willing ©2022 by Lianyu Tan

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Buy direct from the author

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* * *

About the Author:

Lianyu Tan has always been fascinated by the darker side of love: obsessive yearning and monstrous desires. She writes dark fantasy novels with elements of romantic horror. Subscribe to her newsletter for free bonus content and short stories: https://go.lianyutan.com/subscribe

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OUTSIDER BY W. FREEDREAMER TINKANESH

Blurb:

Rooted in the music scene of London, UK, and inspired by a life-long passion for music and a peculiar interest in private dark sides, ‘Outsider’ is a study of human emotions, disturbed by vampires and punctuated with rock music.

Sid is a medicated musician who has lost her rhythm, but strangely is finding her voice as a writer. Her involvement in this story starts when she attends one of Second Look’s gigs for the first time. The rock band inspires her to write short stories sprinkled with monsters.

For Joy, the bored blood-drinker, it might have started when a powerful vampire turned her into a creature of the night at the dawn of the 20th century. Death would probably claim that it started at Sid’s birth, when she thought this soul would make a perfect travelling companion. For Toni and Dee-Dee, it was the night the mighty predator made the unwilling musician into an extremely angry fledgling. The entity known as Life, meddling with mortals’ private lives and nights, clinched her own private deal.

The curious Sid wonders and inquires about vampires. The cynical Joy rediscovers the art of feeling and finds herself willing to protect her mortal lover, even against an over-righteous vampire.

Is everything as it seems? Is everyone as they appear? With offbeat sense of humour and twisted realism, the author guides you down a trail of bodies (alive, dead and undead) until the final showdown.

Tell us about this scene:

This scene is a quarter into the book where the main character, Sid, attends yet another gig of her favourite music band.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene reminded me how sensitive the main character is.

* * *

Excerpt:

Sid had arrived late because of the rain. Definitely reality for her small Kawasaki when she had to restrain its speed, in the name of caution.

It was a gay club, charging club prices at the door and at the bar, women only, but with men as guests (Sid would shake her head muttering under her breath what kind of joke is that) and they had given Second Look only thirty minutes. The venue was middle class and Sid felt out of place, like everywhere, like every day, with or without the drugs. She was in a manic mood and full of good intentions to well behave.

Music was rocking full swing but the audience looked frozen, a few feet away from the stage where Terri and Dawn were giving away their best, tension running up and down their raw nerves.

What’s wrong, Sid wondered. Have I done something wrong? Should I dance or should I freeze?

She wanted to dance but the musicians’ tension freaked her out, while the music gnawed away at her feet, harassing her tight skin, like a tickle too hard to make her laugh. But the music’s pull was too strong for Sid to resist. Without thinking more, she gave in to her standard behavior, shedding helmet and jacket, and letting the fast rhythm of the moment guide her feet. A wave of relief washed immediately across the stage and Sid’s skin automatically relaxed. She temporarily forgot about her fresh tattoo still itching under her black combats, and her latest short story.

After the too short set, some canned music started to spell out pop tunes in fashion and Sid caught up with a few known faces, regular Second Look fans like the heavily tattooed and pierced woman who only danced when no one else would, but that evening was on paraphernalia-stall duty, and a few women who had eventually relented to Sid’s insistence. Yes, Second Look was a band to check out, definitely. Jessie had come, too and requested from Sid:

“Show me your leg!”

Sid had obliged and rolled up a trouser leg to expose the shiny totem pole, coloured with the traditional Haida black, red, blue and white.

Talking about the musicians. In between two chats, the singer spotted the writer and grabbed her for one of her famed bear hugs. Swiftly moving on, Terri introduced her girlfriend Justine to Sid, and next found herself entranced in an enthusiastic chat with a tall, skinny woman with long, auburn hair, bright smile and red roses tattooed on her upper arms. Sid exchanged a few words with Justine who, incidentally, had read “Tequila After Dark” and “The Beast(s)” and reported Terri’s enthusiasm to Sid in between puffs of cigarette. Sid remembered Justine from the Black Crow, one of the many silhouettes in the audience. Somehow, not someone she would notice, but it didn’t matter since Justine was with Terri and Sid had someone else squatting her mind and her dreams.

After an acquaintance grabbed Justine away, Sid’s eyes found themselves drifting around the venue. Not interested in the alcoholic offerings of the bar or any eyes meeting hers, she searched towards the stage.

Dawn was still on the stage, packing up some mini disks or doing whatever she usually did after a gig. Sid looked at her with shortsighted, brown eyes, unable to guess, feeling shy and nervous, the wolf and the whale debating about the best possible next step.

There was something she wanted to know, so much that she didn’t care about the crowd around her. She knew about Terri’s hugs, Terri being as generous with her hugs as her voice was powerful. And Terri was a great hugger. She hugged strong, but not tight. The best hugger in town. What about Dawn? The keyboard player was so elusive. Suddenly, Sid had to know, she had to find out. Now. There and then. But Dawn was too reserved a person to hug groupies after a 2-minute chat. Only one way for Sid to get a hug. The anti-depressants giving her a wackier than usual sense of humour, she could have explained herself as a student researching, analyzing, comparing, cataloguing hugs.

Sid selected the direct approach. She walked onto the stage she would have loved to share with Second Look.

“Dawn?”

“Yes?” The musician turned to Sid with a smile.

“Could you do me a favour?”

“Sure!”

“Could you give me a hug?”

The smile took an amused turn and Dawn made the step necessary to close her arms around Sid. The embrace was honest, with a softness invading Sid’s heart. The writer felt a sudden desire to protect the musician from whatever harm would ever come her way. It was overwhelming. Dawn withdrew after a hug too brief for Sid, unaware of Sid’s emotions.

* * *

Outsider ©2012 by W. Freedreamer Tinkanesh

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

The quiet W. Freedreamer Tinkanesh, known to be a versatile artist, an independent musician, and a tree hugger, enjoys photographic walks in cemeteries where tombstones and trees mingle together. They are the author of a vampire novel and two collections of short stories. They are non-binary.

ACTION / ADVENTURE

THE GOLDEN TRINITY BY ROBYN NYX

Blurb:

Rayne Marcellus knows what people want, and she’s damn good at getting it. Antiquities is her game, and she’s the best there is, moving in the shadows even as she trades in the light. When an ambitious criminal approaches her to take on a deadlier game than even she’s willing to play, she knows she has to stop him. But she’ll need help…

After a previous betrayal, Chase Stinsen doesn’t want anything to do with Rayne. Chase believes archeology is a tool to understand the past in an effort to help the future and has no use for profiting from the finds of history. But when Rayne proposes they track the legendary Golden Trinity, with the added benefit of helping indigenous tribes, she’s hooked.

Danger lurks around every corner, and their defenses crumble as they have to depend on one another to survive. If Chase can finally trust Rayne again, she might just end up with more than the gold.

Tell us about this scene:

Our heroic archeologist Chase Stinsen is at the site of Zenobia, but her arch-rival Rayne and her team are about to hijack the whole situation.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Chase and Rayne are two of my favourite characters. Because this is a series, I've been able to more fully explore the ups and downs of an intimate relationship in a way that you don't get to do with stand-alone; you leave the reader with the happy ever after, and they (and you as the author) hope it stays that way. These two start as friends, become enemies, and then lovers. But as lovers, there are still obstacles and moral grey ground to navigate; it's a lot of fun to play with. And I love their banter!

* * *

Excerpt:

Chase looked substantially less chunky than when she’d seen her last in the Paris catacombs. Her tight Under Armour sweatshirt revealed distinctively shaped shoulders and bulging biceps even though they weren’t under any tension. Her now broad shoulders tapered into her waist, and she was wearing cargo pants that sheathed an impressively tight looking butt.

When Tonyck prodded her in the back, Rayne wondered just how long she’d been staring at Chase’s rear view. Rayne batted Tonyck’s hand away and holstered her weapon. “Dwayne Johnson sent me to get his wardrobe back.”

Chase spun around, her foot caught a leg of her camera tripod, and it began to tumble toward the floor. She caught it before it crashed onto the hard surface and cursed.

“Jesus, Marcellus. You scared the crap out of me.” 

Rayne stifled a laugh at Chase’s reaction, but Tonyck wasn’t nearly as politic and guffawed loudly.

“Nervous much, Stinsen?” Tonyck asked before coming around Rayne and dropping her pack to the ground to unload her rope rig.

Chase settled the tripod and turned to face Rayne. “Why are you here? And what the hell is she doing?”

Rayne smiled. How to put it? “I have a client—”

“A rich, stupid, and ignorant client, always. But there’s nothing you can take away here without attracting a lot of attention. And not the kind of attention you crave.”

“Are you going to take these down? You probably wouldn’t like the way I’d do it.” Tonyck stood at the head of the tomb, gripping one of the scaffolding columns.

Chase moved around the casket to face Tonyck. Rayne noted she didn’t look quite as hesitant squared up to her as she had in France. She had a new, and attractive, confident aura to match her super fit physique. It suited her enormously. But if she were a gambling woman, she’d still put her money on Tonyck. Rayne would happily tend to Chase’s wounded body though.

“Get your ham hands off my equipment,” Chase said.

She caught hold of the pole but didn’t attempt to remove Tonyck. Sensible decision. “Leave it, Tonyck. You don’t want to break anything she can’t afford to replace.”

Tonyck grinned, released her hands, and stepped back. “Then she needs to break it down in the next three minutes or I will.”

Tonyck went back to setting up her rope rig, and Chase glared at Rayne, clearly waiting for an explanation. She had a way of looking rather adorable when she was mad, which she usually was when they met.

“Quit staring at me and tell me what the hell is going on,” Chase said, not moving from her position. “I got here first. I’m halfway through the scanning, and I’ve just started the photographs. I’m not taking down my equipment for anyone. Especially not you.”

Rayne couldn’t blame Chase for her defensiveness. She hadn’t had a win in their last four unofficial competitions. It’d been pretty even up to then, but Rayne saw the need for some extra help and had the means to employ it. Subsequently, she found Ginn and Tonyck. With the extra help, the rivalry had skewed in Rayne’s favor, and Chase’s previously playful demeanor took a decided turn to the persistently disgruntled.

“Not even if ISIS is about to descend on us?”

Chase tilted her head and put her hands on her hips. “What did you and your goons do?”

Tonyck looked up. “You should be really careful about how you refer to the people who are gonna save your ass, Stinsen.”

Chase straightened and made herself a little taller. If it weren’t for the fact that they were all in danger of losing their lives, Rayne would have been enjoying the butch cockfight.

“As far as I was aware, I didn’t need my ass saving,” Chase said toward Tonyck before turning back to Rayne. “I managed to get down here without alerting anyone, and I was going to get out exactly the same way. Just me, my equipment, and my data. So I’ll ask again. What did you and your goons do?”

Tonyck began to rise from her knees, but Rayne waved her down. Chase had every right to be angry and suspicious. Rayne pulled her ponytail tighter and sighed. “We believe we may have blown our cover in the village.”

“We believe we may have blown our cover?” Chase placed her hands on the tomb and leaned toward Rayne. “This isn’t a pirate wreck in the Florida Keys, Marcellus. We’re in the middle of a war-torn country, and there are people out there who’d happily blow our heads off…after they’ve dragged our bodies through the streets on live TV. Are we in danger or not?”

Rayne shook her head; would Chase ever let Florida go? She heard Ginn coming down the steps behind her and saw a flash of relief on Tonyck’s face. “We are. But we have a plan.”

Chase threw up her hands. “Great. That’s awesome. You and the army twins have a plan. I feel so much safer now. Just how long have we got before a troop of heavily armed fanatics come tearing down those steps and blast us all to pieces?”

* * *

The Golden Trinity ©2021 by Robyn Nyx

Published by Butterworth Books

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Robyn Nyx lives in England but enjoys traveling all over the world in search of inspiration. She loves to create complex characters to weave into stories that remind us of the darker side of human nature in the hope that we might cultivate the light. Make contact and find out more at robynnyx.com.

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THE CURSE OF DOLL ISLAND BY OCEAN

Blurb:

In 1732 a Shaman performed The Curse of the Damned on two women, trapped their souls in wax dolls, and banished them to a tiny island. Fast forward to 2019. Two women are thrown into situations that require quick wit and bravery to survive. The Curse of Doll Island will take you on a harrowing adventure you may want to, but might never, forget.

Tell us about this scene:

Two women, stranded on an island surrounded by haunted dolls, are trying to survive the night. To make matters worse, there's an evil clown that has tracked them down...

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I chose this scene because I, as an author, have a reputation for being a thriller writer, and this book, in particular, is known as a scary story. And no denying I am, and the book is. However, I’m hoping by sharing this scene, the reader will see there’s much more to the story than just action-adventure scariness. Wrapped within the pages is quite a bit of humor and high emotion as well.

My intention with this book was to write something unique and different, a story that would make the reader laugh, cry, have the crap scared out of them, and basically experience a variety of emotions they may not get from other stories. Hopefully, it’s a tale that remains on a reader's mind long after the last page has been turned.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Can I have something to remember you by?” she asked.

“Of course.” Rosie remained standing and lifted her palms.

Devin ambled back to Rosie. They stood facing each other, neither spoke. Each silently studied the other’s expression.

Devin raised both hands and gently cradled Rosie’s face in her palms. Devin’s touch was tender, comforting. Rosie wished she could melt into it. She tried to swing her head side-to-side, but Devin held it firm.

She started to speak, but the words choked in her throat, “Devin, you don’t—”

“Shh,” Devin placed a finger on Rosie’s lips. “I do.”

Rosie gazed into Devin’s eyes. The beautiful mixture of bright colors she’d stared into all day was still there, but now it was muted by a thin film of moisture.

Devin moved forward, closing the gap between them. Her hands slid to the back of Rosie’s head. Tenderly, she brought Rosie’s face forward as she lowered her own. Rosie closed her eyes. Their lips met. First, they merged carefully, then with more intensity. Devin’s lips were warm and soft. Her hands tenderly massaged the back of Rosie’s scalp while pulling her face in tighter as the kiss intensified.

The sensation was of tenderness yet, at the same time, electric. Rosie had never experienced a kiss that came even close to what she was feeling at that moment. Her body demanded more. She raised her hands, wrapped them tightly around Devin’s back, and pulled her forward so their chests and stomachs melded together. Rosie inhaled and smelled her. Inhaled the essence of her. It was a smell that stirred a sensation that she couldn’t comprehend. It reached in and shook her very core.

The kiss lasted for what seemed forever. Time stood still as Rosie allowed herself to become lost in the physical reactions the moment created inside her. Temporarily, she ignored the nightmare that was happening around them.  

Devin pulled away first. She mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

Rosie grabbed Devin’s hands, pressed them to her own chest, and squeezed them. “Devin. You can’t do this. Please, don’t.” Her sobs were uncontrollable now, and her body trembled. Tears flowed freely, chasing each other down her cheeks. 

“Shh.” Devin wiped her own eyes with the backs of her hand. The whites of her eyes were red. “It’s okay. It’s almost as if it were my destiny, know what I mean? Like it was meant to be. It’s too strange not to be fate. It’s my punishment for…” She looked away.

Rosie threw herself onto Devin. “No, Devin. It’s not your destiny. Please. Don’t do this.”

“Rosie.” Devin looked her square in the eyes. “I have to. One last favor. Can I have one more thing to remember you by? Your bag? Please?”

Rosie’s shoulders heaved as she lifted the bag off them. She moved slowly as if it were painful to do so and let the bag drop off her shoulder as if it had the weight of the world inside of it. Reluctantly, she handed the sack to Devin. 

Clownie rubbed his hands together and ran his red tongue over his sharp teeth. He made several quick hand signals. Devin glanced at Rosie.

“He says,” Rosie had trouble speaking. The words blurted out in between sobs, “This won’t hurt a bit, and it’ll be over before you know it. That you’ll like being in the clown body. And together, you’ll,” she paused to sniffle, swallow a sob, and blurted out the words, “Rule the island.”

The nuns stood behind Rosie, each hugging one of her calves. Their faces were somber.

Devin adjusted Rosie’s bag onto her shoulder, took a giant breath, then turned to face Clownie. His arms were stretched forward as a newlywed would welcome their long-absent lover. He towered over her and peered down at her as a wolf might admire a newborn sheep.

* * *

The Curse of Doll Island ©2018 by Ocean

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Ocean writes about ordinary women in extraordinary situations. She's published in a variety of genres, but her preference is to write about the strange and unusual in action-adventure thrillers that delight by having readers both laugh and shiver throughout the story.

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WOMEN’S FICTION

A WOMAN IN HIDING BY T.B. MARKINSON

Blurb:

Lizzie Petrie doesn’t know how people manage parenting, friendship, or life.

Watching four children is hard work. This is something Lizzie’s wife, Sarah, knows about. She’s been doing it for six years.

As the kids grow older, Sarah is reaching her breaking point and pleads with Lizzie to do more to pitch in. Lizzie is certain she can do it on her own.

Lizzie is wrong.

When Sarah goes back to work full-time, Lizzie reaches the end of her rope. Her solution? Installing a secret bunker in the basement. The only problem is preventing Sarah from finding out when the construction project turns out to be just as hard as everything else in Lizzie’s life.

Can Lizzie hold it together or will everything crumble down around her, including her marriage?

Tell us about this scene:

Lizzie has a way of keeping secrets that always backfire, and yet, she doesn’t seem to learn her lesson. All Lizzie wanted was a little peace and quiet, which she planned to get by carving out a small section of their basement renovation only she would know about, a “bunker” of sorts. But nothing ever goes smoothly for her. In this scene, all the little white lies and misunderstandings that take place throughout the book come home to roost.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Lizzie is close to my heart, and I giggle about the scrapes she gets herself into. She always thinks she’s very clever, but in reality, it’s easy to see how her choices will lead to disaster. It’s always more a question of when than if.

This scene was a lot of fun to write and I particularly enjoy how Sarah handles Lizzie. There’s just the right mix of exasperation, disbelief, and love. I’ve been writing this series for ten years now, and I think all of us need a Sarah in our lives.

* * *

Excerpt:

“You’re building a sex dungeon?” Sarah had a hand on her hip, and her screech could’ve woken the dead.

“I’m what?” It wasn’t my best stalling tactic. But for one thing, I was tired. And for another, how the hell did she know about that? Sure, I knew there was a chance my secret cover story would get blown, but I hadn’t expected to be asked about it with such bluntness, and especially not when my mind was complete jelly. I probably couldn’t count to fifteen without using my fingers and toes.

“And you told my mom you’re building it. My mother, Lizzie. She gave birth to me!”

“I never said such a thing to your mother!” I countered with all the righteous indignation I was entitled to. As an afterthought, I added, “It’s not even a real sex dungeon.”

“What is it, then? Because from the drawings I’ve seen, it’s a naughty play room that Christian Grey would salivate over.”

“Drawings? What drawings? I haven’t seen any drawings.” Had I missed a memo or something? What would the subject line even have said? Maybe it had said “Sex Dungeon,” and my spam filter had sent it to the same place as the FRee V!@gra offers.

“These drawings.” Without further ado, Sarah shoved her iPad into my hands.

“What the…?” I didn’t understand anything my eyes were registering. Truthfully, they were so tired, everything blurred. But there was a lot of red. And black. Like an illustration of Satan’s bedroom. “How did this get onto your tablet? Are we going to be on a weird watch list now? One for pervs?” I whispered the last line, glancing nervously at the smart speaker on Sarah’s bedside that I was absolutely convinced tracked everything we said and did.

“This is my fault?” Sarah whacked my shoulder with her palm. “You’re the one who’s been keeping secrets from me. But not from my fucking mother. When it comes to sex chambers, that’s a secret you should absolutely keep from my fucking mother.”

“I wish you’d stop saying fucking mother, because under the current circumstances, it’s tormenting me.” I tapped the side of my head to prevent images from forming.

“Yeah, okay. And you say I’m the perv. You need to explain everything to me right fucking now.” Sarah planted her feet, crossed her arms, and glared at me.

“I don’t even know how or where to start.” This was one hundred percent true.

“That’s a pattern for you, FYI. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on in the basement? I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you with the project, but I never thought it would get this out of hand. At worst, I thought you’d add a hot tub or something. I still can’t believe that you’re creating a sex club in our house, where our kids sleep?”

“Sex club? How did it morph into a sex club all of a sudden? I don’t even like clubs.”

“Apparently, a lot of people do. Like my mother and Troy, as it turns out. My mom has assured me they would pay top dollar to use such a room.”

“Really? How much?” As soon as I said it, I knew it was the worst possible response.

“What?” As Sarah shrieked, I thought I felt something deep inside my ear canal go pop. “Please God, tell me you don’t have any fancy brochures printed up yet.”

“No. One, it’s not a sex club, dungeon, or chamber of any kind, and two”—I made a V in the air with my fingers—“I didn’t want anyone to know about the room. No one. Aside from Lou and her crew, but she promised not to breathe a word about it. Oh my God. I just realized your mom must’ve shown up to that coffee shop meeting right after I left, even though I told her not to.”

“Of course, she did. Since when would she take your word for it that you had things under control?”

“Good point. I bet Lou spilled the beans when she showed up. We should fire her.”

“Heads are going to roll, but not Lou’s.” Sarah took a menacing step closer to me.

“It’s a bunker, okay? A fucking bunker—no, not for fucking,” I corrected when the meaning of my words became clear. “It’s for me. To have privacy. And in case the world ends, it’s someplace we all can live. I wanted a bunker. Nothing more. Nothing less. I’m suffocating!” To add drama to my statement, I started to hyperventilate. Between ragged breaths, I wheezed out, “I… need breaks. I can’t go a day without s-some silence.” I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to calm my breathing. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a terrible person because I don’t always want to be around my family twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I need space sometimes. Like thirty minutes a day in absolute quiet because when I don’t get it, I want to scream and cry. I don’t want to be the screaming banshee mother. I want to be a loving and supportive parent, but I can’t always be that way when I don’t get breaks.”

“That I understand. I love the she-shed you gave me for exactly that reason. Why don’t you use it, too?”

“It’s your spot. I wanted my own spot.”

“A bunker.” Sarah sat down next to me with a shallow sigh. “I mean, it does fit your personality. I remember your desire to build a moat around our house.”

“I might go back to that idea.” I smacked my hand hard against the duvet. “I can’t even trust Lou. Everyone twists everything I say or do.”

* * *

A Woman in Hiding ©2023 by T.B. Markinson

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

TB Markinson has published over 30 novels, many of them making the Amazon bestseller lists for lesbian fiction and lesbian romance. In 2017, TB founded IHeartSapphFic.com, a place for authors and readers to come together to celebrate sapphic fiction. When she isn’t writing, she’s hiking, watching sports, visiting historical sites in New England, or reading.

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CURTAIN CALL BY C H CLEPITT

Blurb:

C H Clepitt has a knack for creating real, relatable characters, who face adversity with humour and humanity, and Curtain Call is no exception.

When an assistant to the director role turns into P.A. to her favourite film star, Jen can’t believe her luck. Eleanor Francis is charming, kind and funny, but she has a secret, and when tragedy strikes, things threaten to unravel at an uncontrollable pace. Despite being out of her depth Jen has to adapt to her new role quickly, to protect Eleanor, with whom she is rapidly falling in love.

This is a sweet, understated story that will have you laughing and crying in equal measure. If you’ve enjoyed C H Clepitt’s other books then this is not to be missed.

Tell us about this scene:

Having just landed a job in theatre, Jen has discovered she will be working with her favourite actress, Eleanor Francis. Eleanor is in a turbulent relationship with her married agent, Buni Warren, and following an argument and a great deal of wine, Eleanor and Jen have a one night stand. This scene occurs just after they have stopped to get coffee on their way to the theatre.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Curtain call is an exploration of human feelings and emotions, and unlike my other books, there is no big bad or epic world ending event moving the plot along. It's just about people and how they interact with each other and impact each other's lives. I think this scene shows lots of intense emotions and hopefully gives a good feel for the book.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Want to grab a coffee on the way?” Jen asked as they walked down the hill towards the theatre.

“Want to make sure your friend survived his night with Bill?” Eleanor laughed lightly, slipping her hand into Jen’s as they walked.

“Oh, shit! I forgot to text him that I was home! He’ll be so pissed off!” She pulled her phone from her bag and flicked the screen on. Four text messages and two missed calls.  “Yeah, I’m in for a bollocking…” she said quietly as she opened them slowly.

• Hey Jen. Home yet?

• Babe, you home?

• Just let me know you’re OK.

• Call me when you get this.

They were approaching Full of Beans, so there was no point phoning back now.  Just as they were about to head in, Eleanor’s phone began to ring.

“I’ll be in in a minute, can you order me a latte?” She smiled at Jen.

“Sure,” Jen gave her a quick kiss and hurried into the coffee shop.

“Dean!” she called as soon as she was in. Dean looked up from cleaning the bar and relief filled his expression, followed by annoyance. “I am so sorry… I…”

“I was so worried!” He came out immediately and gave her a hug. “I phoned your flat, and when you didn’t answer I went round! My next stop was the theatre before calling your parents! I was just waiting for Chris to get in.”

“I’m really sorry! I just…”

“Wait…” Dean stepped back and examined her. “Isn’t this what you were wearing last night? Is this the walk of shame?” A broad grin crossed his face and he folded his arms.

“Sorry!” Eleanor hurried in, shoving her phone into her back pocket. “Apparently I could be saving money on another contract, who knew?” She laughed. “You must be Dean,” she held out her hand. “Did you enjoy the show last night?”

“I… you… yes?” Dean feebly shook her hand, his eyes wide, then he grinned at Jen.

“Stop smiling!” Jen said firmly. “Stop it! We want to order coffee!” 

“Of course you do…” Dean smirked and returned to behind the bar.

“I’ll take my punishment.  Have a seat,” Jen pulled out a chair at a side table for Eleanor and then followed him to the bar. “Dean… am I forgiven?”

“Are you…” Dean burst out laughing. “I’m so proud I could pop! Way to pull your first one night stand!” He punched her on the shoulder.  “How many dates does it usually take you? Christ!”

Jen could feel her cheeks redden and stared down at the bar.  The sound of a crash from behind them caused her to spin around.  Eleanor was on her feet, her chair had fallen behind her.  She was staring at the thirty inch television screen that hung behind the bar.

“Can you put the sound on?” She managed.

Dean grabbed the remote and pushed up the volume.  The headline scrolling along the bottom of the screen read “TOP WEST END AGENT KILLED IN DRINK DRIVING INCIDENT”.  The reporter was standing outside a hospital.

“It was in the early hours of the morning Jayne “Buni” Warren’s car crossed three lanes of the motorway and crashed into the barrier.  Whilst we have yet to receive confirmation from the police or doctors at the hospital, witnesses who were with Mrs. Warren at a party earlier in the evening have confirmed she had been drinking heavily. Although sources at the hospital have refused to comment further, they have confirmed that she died at approximately three fifteen this morning, and her immediate family has been informed.”

The screen changed back to the studio, where a white haired man in a suit was sitting watching a big screen with the reporter on.  “And Sarah,” he said. “Surely this adds to the growing speculation that Buni Warren was in fact an alcoholic?”

“Well, yes, that’s right Steve.  Whilst of course our thoughts are with her family and friends right now, it does raise the wider issue of what sort of support system there is out there for people in the public eye, who of course risk much more in admitting they have a problem.”

“And of course there are her high profile clients,” the man returned. “How many of them suspected she had this problem…”

“Turn it off!” Jen snapped hurrying over to Eleanor, who was trembling.  “I... “ She reached out to touch her, but she pulled away.

“Don’t… I… Oh god!” She collapsed into a crouched position, gripping the edge of the table with her fingertips, her eyes closed, resting her face on her forearms, shaking with silent tears.

Without saying a word Dean moved to the front door, locked it and turned the sign to closed.

“What do you need, Jen?” He asked quietly.

“Can you go to the theatre and tell Mr. Stuart what’s happened? I don’t think we’ll make in this morning.” She murmured.

Dean nodded, grabbed his coat and headed out the back.

“Eleanor?” Jen crouched next to her and spoke in little more than a whisper.

Eleanor stood up, flung a chair across the room and let out a scream before bursting into tears.  Jen stared for a second before hurrying towards her and pulling her close.  At first Eleanor stiffened, before surrendering to the embrace and crying even harder.  Jen didn’t know how long they stood there like that, in complete silence other than Eleanor’s stifled sobs, until Dean returned, accompanied by Bill Stuart.

“Eleanor?” He said quietly as he approached them.

She looked up from Jen’s shoulder. “Oh, Bill! Isn’t it dreadful? I… I don’t know how I’ll go on!  How will I go on, Bill?”

“You’ll go on because you have to, darling.” He spoke softly, taking her hand and leading her away from Jen and to a table.  “We’ll all help you, you aren’t alone.”

* * *

Curtain Call ©2018 by C H Clepitt

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from the author

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

C H Clepitt has a Master's Degree in English literature. A background in Community and Music Journalism helped shaped their quirky writing style, whilst ten years in retail gave them an insight into human nature! When not writing Clepitt can be found working, or posting cat photos on Mastodon.

Sign up here for C H Clepitt ’s author newsletter.

THE LESBIAN AND THE HOMOPHOBIC PRESIDENT BY JUDY RAMSOOK

Blurb:

So many times life pulls its stunt on us and the unexpected cut across the plan. We are kept in a fix and a decision is paramount. Will power overthrow love? What happens to the undefined affection between Kelly and Jackie? Find out the answers to these questions from this intriguing plight of Jackie, Kelly and the Homophobic president. Will Jackie find a decision to surmount her elevated mountain of two-ended choices? Is Kelly truly a bad influence as thought by many? Will the president put his familiarity with Kelly on the line? The answer to all these isn’t far-fetched. Suspense and romance has found a great blend in this wonderful compilation by Judy Ramsook. This book is filled with wits and practical lessons. Story has got a new definition; this sure would worth your read. The lesbian and the Homophobic president will satisfy your hunger for a book of stories and leave you with an undying hunger for more. Let your curiosity meet an interesting answer. You are just a trial away, pick up your copy!

Tell us about this scene:

Towards the end of the novel when Kelly is rescued on the the island. She and Jackie admit their feelings for each other.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

It is my best scene, because it shows the sacrifice Jackie makes to be anywhere Kelly is. She ends up calling off her own wedding based on an anonymous tip about where Kelly could be.

* * *

Excerpt:

As Kelly was about to enter Jackie’s jet, she glanced back  only to see Mac, Paulson and Robin being escorted to the shore as well. All three women were placed in a separate aircraft as Robin had confessed to taking a bribe from an unknown source.

In a short while after Kelly had a tearful reunion with her own parents, she washed her now sun burnt face and was seated in one of the seats on the plane.

Jackie went to her. Walden and Hawthorne were not far off.

“Wow, it feels so good to sit on something soft once more,” said Kelly as she placed her body in a half lying position and closed her eyes.

“Would you like me to get you a soda or something?” said Jackie, glad to have Kelly back.

“Yeah, a coke or something,” replied with a smile.

After taking a few sips from the beverage, Kelly strolled over to where Jackie was. She stood next to a window looking out.

“Thanks, and I’m sorry,” said Kelly.

Jackie turned around and looked at Kelly.

“It’s not your fault you were kidnapped you know, there’s no need to apologize,” returned Jackie.

“How did you know where I was?” asked Kelly.

“Got an anonymous call this morning, they already checked my cell phone, but could not trace who the caller was, I didn’t recognize the voice of the caller either, it’s certainly no one I know,” answered Jackie.

Walden nudged Hawthorne that they should leave the two women alone, so they quietly went to another room on the jet.

Hawthorne strained his neck to see what Jackie and Kelly were doing, but Walden pulled him by the arm, out of the vicinity of where they were.

“What’s up with those two?” he asked his partner, still craning his neck to catch a glimpse of what Jackie and Kelly were doing.

“They’re in love,” replied Walden with a sigh.

“What, I thought it was just Kelly who was gay,” said Hawthorne.

“Maybe they just fell in love, Hawthorne,” said Walden.

Back in the room where Jackie and Kelly were, a much slender Kelly was speaking to her friend.

“I guess I ruined your wedding day,” said Kelly.

“I’m not in love with him anyway,” Jackie stepped closer to Kelly and locked her eyes on to hers.

“I don’t know what happened, but somewhere along the way, I found myself falling for you, but if you don’t feel the same way… I guess I just don’t know how to stop loving you, and I feel things when I’m around you, wonderful things, sexual things,” she said lowering her voice when she uttered the word ‘sexual.’

Suddenly, Kelly reached out and grabbed Jackie by the waist.

She pulled her close to her own body and kissed her first lightly on the lips, as if contemplating if she should take their kiss to the next level, and while she was thinking that, she let the tip of her tongue touch Jackie’s closed lips as if indicating to her that she wanted access to more of her.

Then a few seconds later when Jackie opened her mouth slightly, Kelly slowly inserted her tongue in her which only intensified their show of affection.

Kelly kissed her strongly by pushing her tongue farther in her mouth.

She then grabbed hold of Jackie’s tongue amidst all kinds of long, pent up emotions that were starting to expose themselves.

Jackie let out a quiet moan that only she and Kelly heard.

“I’ve been thinking about you quite a bit too,” said Kelly when their faces parted.

Jackie clung close to Kelly’s body and raised her face to hers once more for another kiss.

“So what did these people do to you and who kidnapped you?” said Jackie when their faces parted once more.

Too overcome with fresh tears to produce a vocal response, Kelly held on to Jackie in a tight embrace as an angry look of concern weighed heavy on Jackie.

* * *

The Lesbian and the Homophobic President ©2013 by Judy Ramsook

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Judy Ramsook came to the US in the mid 80s where she attended San Antonio College and The University of Texas at San Antonio. She currently lives in San Antonio, Texas.

THE PAST SHOULD STAY DEAD BY KIM HARRY

Blurb:

DI Heather is back solving crimes on the Beechwood estate. The selective community spirit is still alive and kicking, with a lot of rotten apples festering amongst the good. Born gangster Frankie Thompson's counterfeit operation is about to take a tumble but who will do the time? Homophobia is still rife, but is DI Heather's marriage to Gareth one of inconvenience now that she's considering a second time around relationship with her old boss Martha Moss?

Tell us about this scene:

This is the first time that these characters have real interaction. The butterflies and the expectations from both are apparent.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love this scene. This is your typical butch meets femme scenario. The age gap here is also apparent but not in the way that it would ever become a problem. The first interaction in any relationship is always one of expectation and excitement. Heather is a young police officer. She is new to the station and trying desperately to fit in. Martha is a detective, respected by everyone and loved by many. When Martha acknowledges her, she falls over backwards to be of help to the woman. But the detective only sees her as a means to an end. The characters’ personalities shine through, and it sets the pace for their growing relationship. As the book follows the career of Heather, we get to see the ups and downs that they both share, and the mutual understanding that develops between them.

* * *

Excerpt:

As they entered the station to file the report, DI Martha Moss grabbed Heather to one side.

‘You’ll do. Come with me. I’ve got a little job for you to do.’

This was the first time that Martha had spoken to Heather, and she felt a little excited to be asked. She was too much of a newbie to be noticed by any of the higher-ranking officers and had just accepted her ghost existence around the place. Maybe this could be the start of her career, she thought.

‘How are you at getting your hands into small spaces?’

Heather didn’t answer, just shrugged before being dragged by the arm through the big double doors and over to a small, battered MG in the car park.

‘See, my problem is I’ve locked my bloody keys in the car, and I can’t get my big bloody arms through that small window.’

Heather could see the keys on the passenger seat. She took off her coat and rolled up her sleeve, reaching with all her strength to retrieve them through the crack in the window.

‘Go on girl, you’re nearly there.’

She could feel the window close tightly around her now swollen arm. But no matter how hard she tried to grab them, she was at least two inches away from success.

‘OK, OK, you can stop. Maybe we need to call out the police to help, hey,’ she sneered.

Heather was glad to stop. Her arm had become purple with trying.

As she put her coat back on, she could feel this woman checking her out. Martha was a lot older than her, but she was still a smart-looking woman. She always wore designer suits and wasn’t shy of the odd spray tan. By keeping her peppered hair short around a stern but beautiful face made her look as though she knew what she was doing. Not bumbling around like some of the other inspectors that Heather had come into contact with. She had caused quite an effect on her and the smart forty-something had always made Heather’s belly flip whenever she came into the station.

‘It’s Heather, isn’t it?’ Martha could also feel a mutual attraction and wondered why she had never noticed how beautiful the girl was before. ‘Thanks for trying, anyway. But I think we need to use more drastic measures.’

She moved towards Heather, who was now leaning on the car. She put her hands on either side of her waist and eased her out of the way. Within seconds, she grabbed for her truncheon and smashed the side window.

Heather jumped at the sound of the breaking glass and hid at the back of Martha as she removed the shards that were refusing to drop to the floor.

‘That worked,’ she smiled. ‘Can you pop inside and grab a dustpan and brush for Me Officer? We can’t leave all this glass out here.’

Heather nodded and went inside the station to get the brush as quickly as she could. Her heart was beating loudly, and she was feeling the excitement of being in the older woman’s presence.

As she went back to the car park, Martha was getting into a police car opposite. She smiled at her and shook her retrieved keys.

‘Thanks, Heather, I owe you one.’

She started the car, then pulled up alongside her. ‘Can you also tape a bin liner over that open window for me, Love? It looks like it’s gonna rain later.’

As the car pulled away, Heather’s heart dropped. She couldn’t say no, as she was way too far down the pecking order to answer back to an officer of her ranking.

The next time she saw Martha, she made sure not to be so gullible. A driver had had his window put through by some kids throwing rocks on the estate.

‘We have to stop meeting like this amongst the broken glass. It’s becoming a habit.’

Heather was quite shocked that Martha had remembered her and blushed in response as Martha continued. ‘Maybe you’d like to share a bottle of wine or two later when we finish up here?’

All Heather could do was nod her head. The confident young PC had felt like a quivering wreck around the DI. A drink would be good though, and a way of calming her unsteady nerves.

When Heather walked into the Feathers, several nameless faces that she had seen around the station greeted her. This was a colleague get together and not the intimate night she had hoped for.

She found Martha standing at the bar, laughing with the barmaid. As she approached, she hoped she hadn’t forgotten that she had asked her out. Martha’s face was inviting and as she waved towards her, she smiled. It wasn’t until another DI that was standing behind her greeted Martha first, that she realised the wave wasn’t for her. ‘How embarrassing’ she thought.

She sucked back her shame and pushed her way through to the bar.

‘Hey, Heather, you made it. Sorry about the noise. It gets crazy in here with this lot. Look around, you may know some of them.’

‘That’s OK and yes, I’ve seen a few of these faces around the station.’

Martha nodded, then got the crowd’s attention.

‘Listen up guys, this is Heather.’ The embarrassment made her want to crawl under the bar. The guys greeted her in unison with nods and waves. ‘She’s getting a round in, so what are you having?’

As soon as the words fell from her lips, a wave of hands lifted their glasses, and the barmaid took their order.

Heather went into her purse to pay for the drinks, but Martha stopped her.

‘I was only joking. Most of this lot are on pints with whiskey chasers.’

Heather felt relieved. She was still paying off loans and didn’t have that much cash to spare. Martha handed the barmaid a fifty-pound note and took her whiskey, and Heather’s wine, to a quiet table.

* * *

The Past Should Stay Dead ©2022 by Kim Harry

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

* * *

About the Author:

Kim Harry is from Newport, South Wales, UK. She has paused her career path from being a DJ, singer, and musician, well known amongst her local LGBTQ community to concentrate on her love of writing full time. In 2018 she gained a BA Honours degree in English Literature and Creative Writing.

GENERAL / LITERARY FICTION

THE FOREVER AND THE NOW BY KJ

Blurb:

Bron McIntyre, forty-two, has it all together. Terrific job. Loving family. No desperate need for a girlfriend but would be interested if one came along. Bron McIntyre is Teflon.

Kate Agostino, forty-eight, is not Teflon. Yes, she has a terrific job. But a loving family? Not really. And her personal life is rapidly disintegrating and turning into dust.

When her orange smoothie explodes all over her business suit while she’s on her afternoon walk, Kate simply shakes her head in resignation.

Bron, having witnessed the smoothie eruption, races to help, and suddenly her life takes an unexpected turn.

Falling in love is like watching the grandest sunset on the calmest ocean where the tiniest ripples wear silver sparkles as their hats. Kate and Bron find that sunset on that ocean with those ripples of love, but what happens when you take that love for granted? What happens when your person disappears? The answers are hard to hear and Bron chooses not to listen.

After a relationship break, a family intervention, and conversations that rip apart seams, Bron and Kate eventually find themselves, each other, and their now. And what they discover is that love is the large and the deliberate, and the simple and the small.

So when tragedy strikes, they call on its strength because, when you think about it, love can live on in the forever, particularly if it lives courageously in the now.

A beautifully poignant story about life, love and a loss so tragic that sometimes even the grandest sunset on the calmest ocean with the ripples wearing hats is too heartbreaking to bear.

Tell us about this scene:

Siobhan, Bron's younger sister, drops by to check on Bron and Kate who are reconnecting in their marriage.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Sibling love is unusual. It is steeped in familiarity, yet constantly absorbs the new, the unusual, the unexpected. Bron, the eldest of the three McIntyre daughters, receives that sort of sibling love. Bron and her wife, Kate, experience marital difficulties, then, after a period of time, reconnect, and the support and cheerleading from family and friends bolsters their tentative steps. Siobhan and Bron have a strong relationship, and this scene demonstrates Siobhan’s happiness at how Bron and Kate have rebuilt what was starting to crumble.

* * *

Excerpt:

“Sorry to turn up unannounced,” Siobhan stated, sliding onto the dining chair and crossing her legs.

“No, you’re not,” I responded, continuing to unload the dishwasher.

“Okay, fine. I’m not.” She held her hands up in surrender.

“Why are you here?” The two wineglasses swung upside-down from my fingers, and I slid them into their runners under the cupboard. 

“Can’t a little sister visit her big sister?”

Alarm bells rang and I narrowed my gaze at her guiltless look; the innocent type with the big eyes. “You never say things like that unless you want something or to tell me things I don’t want to hear.”

“Today you get a two for one deal.”

I looked at the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, Shiv.” I spun around, picked up the kettle, filled it with water and set it on its stand. “Tea or coffee?” I sighed. Caffeine, soft or hard, was going to be required for this.

Siobhan whipped her phone from her pocket, glanced at the screen, nodded, then slid the phone away. “Bourbon.”

“Oh God.”

After turning off the switch to the kettle, I pulled out the half-full bottle of bourbon from the top cupboard, cracked some ice into two tumblers, poured the liquid, and sat opposite Siobhan at the table.

Our cheers was silent, then after a sip, we stared at each other, and I felt very much like I’d been unwittingly inserted into the chess world championships.

“So how’s it all going?” Siobhan’s question tested the metaphorical chess board, sending forth her king’s pawn.

“Fine? You saw me two weeks ago, Shiv.” I moved a mental chess piece anywhere. Siobhan was a master at the back and forth of questions and answers and I could feel the loss coming.

“Uh huh. Just checking, you know, on my big sister in a checking up kind of way since checking up on my big sister now that she’s returned to her senses is important, you know, in a checking up kind of way.”

I squinted at her. “Uh huh.”

Siobhan sipped at her bourbon, while I held her gaze in case she snuck in with her queen piece and killed me.

“How’s your person?” Siobhan said eventually.

I swallowed my mouthful, noticing that our glasses were nearly empty. “I don’t own Kate.”

Siobhan loosely waved her hand. “Psh. You know what I mean.”

“Kate’s fine.” I drained the rest of my drink. “This is weird, Shiv. Why are you being weird?”

“Have you kissed her every single morning?” She swallowed the remainder of her drink as well. “Cooked her dinner? It’s in the manual of—”

I glared. “Shiv, I swear to God—”

“I’ve brought Thai, so dinner is covered, Shiv. The manual is saved.” Kate breezed into the kitchen, placed a bag of deliciousness in the centre of the table, hugged Siobhan around her shoulders, then turned to me. I’d stood up in the meantime and we smiled softly at each other.

“Hi.”

“Hi back,” she said, and held my face as she kissed me.

“Right-o.” Siobhan shoved back her chair and grabbed her glass and mine, ran them under the water at the sink, turned them upside-down on the drainer and leaned against the counter nearest the dining table. “I’m off to join the wallpaper section at the hardware store. You two share the coconut rice properly. World War Two started because of that very issue.”

Kate broke away and giggled. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“No, thanks. Paul’s had a day off and been in the shed the whole time which means he’s been restoring something or building a sex swing. I’m hoping for the latter. Bye!”

I coughed violently and Kate cracked up, bundling Siobhan into her arms and squeezing her tightly. “It was lovely to see you, even if briefly.”

Siobhan grinned. “Same.” She flicked a wicked look my way. “I weirded out your wife.”

“I’m sure she appreciates it.” Kate’s look was mischievous.

I shook my head at their antics, and snuck a look in the bag. My heart expanded. There was an extra side of tao hu tod, the deep fried tofu snack—my favourite—and extra satay sauce. There was never enough in the little plastic pots.

“You remembered,” I said, making eye contact with Kate, and Siobhan could have travelled to the hardware store and transformed into bland wall paint from the amount of attention she was receiving.

Kate smiled quietly. “I never forgot.”

The silence in the room was rich and thick.

“Right! Now I really have to go.”

“Wait!” I swivelled and held out my hand. “You wanted something.”

Siobhan gave a tender smile. “I got it.”

* * *

The Forever and The Now ©2022 by KJ

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

KJ is an indie author of sapphic novels from Bendigo, Australia. Her stories may seem like traditional romances, but KJ will toss in magical realism here, a thriller there, maybe an unconventional relationship, or an unpredictable twist. A salad bar of sapphic stories. That line is on her next business card.

Sign up here for KJ ’s author newsletter.

WHEN THE STARS SANG BY CAREN J. WERLINGER

Blurb:

Nearly twenty-five years ago, Kathleen Halloran's brother drowned during the last summer they ever spent with their grandmother on a remote island off Maine's coast. Like a siren's call she can't resist, Kathleen is pulled back to Little Sister Island. She leaves her job and her girlfriend, packs up her few belongings, and moves into her grandmother's cottage.

Molly Cooper loves life on Little Sister, where the islanders take care of their own. Kathleen Halloran doesn't belong here, and her arrival stirs up unwelcome memories for the islanders—including Molly's brother. Molly is certain Kathleen will pack up at the first big blow. When she doesn't, Molly begins to see maybe there's more to Kathleen than she thought.

Sometimes, before you can move forward, you have to look back.

Tell us about this scene:

Kathleen and Molly are leaving a Samhain celebration on Little Sister Island.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love the banter in this scene, as well as the vulnerability, the caution that both Kathleen and Molly show us.

* * *

Excerpt:

Molly grabbed one of the wooden torches stuck in the sand and lit it from the bonfire. Jogging to the rocks that edged the beach, she made out Kathleen’s figure climbing the path through the woods. The dog heard her first. Kathleen stopped when it did, turning to see what the dog was staring at.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“You forgot one of these.” Molly held up the torch and put out her other hand for the dog to sniff. “You have to light a fire tonight with flames from the Samhain bonfire. It’s tradition.”

Kathleen tilted her head, her features lit by the dancing flames of the torch. “What happens if you break the tradition?”

Molly hesitated. The question had never occurred to her. “Don’t know. No one’s ever done it. Not a good idea. It might bring catastrophe down on the entire island, and then how would you feel?”

Kathleen gave a half-laugh and reached for the torch. Molly pulled it back.

“Thought maybe I’d walk you home.”

“Do I need to be walked back to the cottage?”

Molly flushed at the amusement in Kathleen’s voice and knew her excuse was flimsy. “Depends. I need to make sure you light this fire. And how much did you have to drink? I am the sheriff here.”

Kathleen smiled and nodded in the general direction of the cottage. Molly fell into step beside her as the dog trotted ahead of them.

Molly pointed. “Your new sidekick?”

“He was a stray, but I guess we belong to each other now.”

“What’s his name?”

“Blossom.”

“Blossom. You sure you didn’t have more to drink when I wasn’t looking?”

“I haven’t had anything to drink since that bottle got passed around,” Kathleen said, picking her way over roots and rocks in the trail. 

She came to a halt, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket. The dog whined and hurried back to sit beside her. She raised her head and, in the torchlight, tears shimmered in her eyes behind her glasses.

Molly nearly reached out to brush her fingers over Kathleen’s cheek. She stuffed her own fist in her pocket.

“This next summer will be twenty-five years,” Kathleen said softly. “In all the years since Bryan died, I’ve not felt the urge to come back here. Even wanting to see Nanna wasn’t strong enough to overcome what kept me away. But lately… there’s been this pull back to the island. I had to come.” She sighed, her breath forming a cloud in the cold air.

She walked on. Molly followed her to the cottage. 

“You really didn’t have to walk me back,” Kathleen said, holding a hand out for the torch.

“Well, I have to protect the island.” Molly walked past her into the house where she was surprised to find wood stacked and waiting in the fireplace.

“Protect the island.”

Molly heard the bite in the words. The dog trotted over and curled up in a dog bed, watching them with bright eyes as she knelt to stick the torch under the fireplace grate, letting the flames ignite the newspaper and kindling laid under the logs. They caught right away. Molly laid the torch on top of the logs and watched as the flames licked around it.

Kathleen sat cross-legged beside her as the logs crackled and popped.

“Yeah,” Molly said. She shifted to sit on the floor and pointed at the fire. “The whole tradition thing. What if you bring some kind of curse down on us? Plus, you came here all mysterious, leaving your old life behind. I mean, for all I know, you might be a serial killer.”

Kathleen held a hand out to the warmth of the fire. “Hmmm. A serial killer.”

“Or,” Molly continued, “maybe you faked your death to escape from an abusive husband or something. And now he’s on his way here to find you.”

Kathleen laughed. “Yes, people confuse me with Julia Roberts all the time.”

Molly grinned. “I mean, if I ran a background check on you, would I find that you didn’t exist until three months ago? And you’ve been working your way across the country as a truck stop waitress to escape him?”

Kathleen shifted to hug her knees to her chest. The mantel clock ticked as she stared into the fire. “No,” she said at last. “What you would find is that I worked for a publisher with offices in Philly and New York before leaving them six months ago to start freelancing. And you’d find I have lived in Philadelphia for the past twelve years with a woman named Susannah Moore, whom I left to come here.”

The only sound was the crackling of the fire as Molly absorbed this confession.

“I can’t believe you said that,” she said at last.

“What?” Kathleen’s expression when she turned was guarded, wary.

“Whom. You said whom. Who says whom?”

Kathleen stared at her for a moment and then snorted. The snort turned into a giggle and the giggle into a full-blown belly laugh. Molly watched her, her face lit by the firelight as she rocked with her laughter.

The laughter faded, and Kathleen met Molly’s eyes. Molly heard her heartbeat pounding in her ears and felt herself leaning toward Kathleen. She drew back and cleared her throat.

“Well, you’ve got your Samhain fire lit. The island is safe. That’s my job done.” She pushed to her feet. “I should go.”

Kathleen followed her to the door. “Thanks for seeing me safely here.”

Molly simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She almost ran down the porch steps into the starlit night. Halfway down the drive, she turned and looked back. Kathleen was on the porch, watching her.

Molly stood still for a moment. Go back to her, urged a part of her. She lifted a hand and jogged out to the road.

* * *

When the Stars Sang ©2018 by Caren J. Werlinger

Published by Corgyn Publishing/Indie

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Caren lives in Virginia with her wife and their canine fur-children. She has won numerous awards for her books, including five Goldies, the Readers Favorite Gold Medal twice, multiple eLit Medals, multiple Rainbow Awards, and the 2021 Alice B. Medal. She most recently published her eighteenth novel, The New Shore.

NIGHTS AT THE MAJESTIC BY KIT EYRE

Blurb:

The Majestic has seen better days, but the cinema has become a place of refuge for Eve Thomas since the loss of her wife. A robbery during a classic film throws Lizzie Carlyle into her orbit and, despite the twenty-year age gap, they work together when the Majestic faces a threat to its existence.

Tell us about this scene:

Eve and Lizzie have just had a painful conversation connected to their past relationships which ended with Eve walking out and going upstairs. At the beginning of this scene, Lizzie decides to follow her.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

There’s always a moment in a novel where the relationship between two characters just pivots into being something else. I love writing those moments! This particular scene takes place halfway through the novel and it irreversibly changes the relationship between Eve and Lizzie. It’s a favourite of mine because both women are scared, yet they both fight their fear long enough to give in. Plus, the fact that Lizzie takes wine and custard creams upstairs as a peace offering never fails to make me smile! It’s so incredibly her.

* * *

Excerpt:

Eve’s footsteps sounded hollow on the stairs. Lizzie listened until she got to the landing then she heard the unmistakable squeak of her heading to the attic. That loosened the knot in her stomach a bit, even if she didn’t know how she was feeling or what to do next. 

Her gaze caught on the abandoned mugs of hot chocolate. Maybe she should take them upstairs as a peace offering, try to restart the conversation. Then again, maybe they needed something stronger than that. 

There was a bottle of white wine in the fridge that she’d intended to use with the risotto, but it wasn’t ultra cheap stuff. After a minute of wondering whether it was a daft idea, she poured two large glasses and set them on the table while she made sure the house was secure. The last thing they needed was Paul storming back in. 

She balanced the wine glasses with a packet of custard creams in her hands and went up to the landing, telling herself that if Eve had closed the door, she’d leave it. But she hadn’t and Lizzie climbed the thin staircase with deliberately clumping footsteps. 

Eve was watching from the sofa when she reached the top, eyebrows knitted together. It didn’t feel comfortable up here, not like it had when they’d been watching films, but the full glare of the main light hadn’t been on then. She missed the intimacy of the lamps, especially that new one Eve had bought at the antiques shop. 

Lizzie held out one of the glasses. ‘If you want me to go, that’s fine. I just thought you could do with a drink. And a biscuit.’

There was a little snort from Eve as she took the wine, but at least she wasn’t kicking her out. Lizzie risked sitting beside her on the sofa, feeling the cushion ripple underneath her. She gave it thirty seconds then cracked open the custard creams and offered one over. Eve took it and they chewed quietly, both washing down the crumbs with wine. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Lizzie said finally.

‘You don’t need to apologise. I should have told you all this before inviting you to stay. I didn’t know how to.’

‘I turned up on your doorstep without warning,’ Lizzie reminded her. 

Eve conceded that with a shrug. ‘But then I made a choice and I made you complicit in a lie.’

‘What’s the lie? You just didn’t tell me straight away, same as I didn’t tell you everything about me because you don’t do that. I mean, I lived with Megan and Rhona for years and they couldn’t tell you anything about what I like or don’t like. You know more about me in a couple of weeks than they ever did.’

Until she’d said it, she didn’t realise how true it was. Eve shifted in her seat, edging away as much as she could and Lizzie thought it was because she didn’t believe her. Then she recognised it could be because she did. Putting the packet of biscuits and her wine on the end table, she turned back around to Eve. 

‘What I’m saying,’ she went on carefully, ‘is that it doesn’t matter when you told me. It doesn’t change what I think about you.’

Eve shuddered, jumping to her feet before Lizzie could stop her. She drained her wine glass and slammed it down on the nearest table. 

‘You don’t know what you’re doing,’ she muttered. 

‘I’m just trying to be honest, that’s it,’ Lizzie insisted, rising and taking a step towards her. ‘I want you to know -’

‘Stop it,’ Eve cut in. 

‘Don’t push me away because you’re angry.’

‘I’m not angry, I’m - I’m . . .’

As Eve trailed off, Lizzie swallowed down the lump in her throat. She could see how Eve’s hands were quivering, something that sent a spasm right into her core. Maybe she wasn’t reading this properly and maybe she was going to make an arse of herself, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of needing to touch, needing to know. She took another step forward and Eve baulked. 

‘Lizzie, please, you can’t - you need to leave. If you stay -’

‘If I stay, what?’ she interrupted. 

Eve clenched her fists over her stomach. ‘You need to leave me alone.’

‘Why?’ Lizzie demanded. ‘What are you so scared of?’

‘What I want to do!’

The words lingered in the air, though Eve clamped a hand over her mouth as if she could take them back. Lizzie’s heart was thumping so hard that she thought the neighbours were going to hear it, but Eve just stood there with her eyes wide. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘That was unforgivable, I shouldn’t -’

‘I dream about you,’ Lizzie interjected. 

Eve’s hand dropped to her side. ‘I dream about you too.’

* * *

Nights at the Majestic ©2022 by Kit Eyre

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* * *

About the Author:

Kit Eyre is a Yorkshire author with too many ideas and too many cats. When there isn't a cat between her and the keyboard, Kit writes about complex lesbian and bisexual characters who frequently get things wrong.

Sign up here for Kit Eyre ’s author newsletter.

THIS: A SIMPLE, COMPLEX LOVE STORY BY NAOMI RIVERS

Blurb:

Baltimore's iconic Inner Harbor is known for its historic port, picturesque beauty, and tourist attractions. Can it also be the perfect setting to make a love connection?

Jasmine, a pragmatic social worker, is struggling to keep her long-term relationship intact. T is an art teacher by day and an elusive artist by night, she gave up on relationships a long time ago. When the two meet at the Harbor by chance, their unexpected chemistry challenges their ideas about life and expectations for love. But does love have to be complicated? Or is it possible to simply live in the moment and see where the unexpected leads?

Tell us about this scene:

On their second date, Jasmine and T are at a friend's house. What was supposed to be a quick errand, turns into an impromptu photo session and the first acknowledgement of their unspoken chemistry.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene is a favorite because it depicts the attraction and discovery when two people are getting to know each other. There’s a vulnerability, a shyness that reveals Jasmine's uncertainty and T's artistic eye as she sees Jasmine in a creative and sexy way.

* * *

Excerpt:

Although I didn’t get any love from my usual “friends,” I was excited about seeing Jasmine two days in a row. I’m glad she agreed to meet me for an early dinner although neither of us ate very much. Because here I was standing alone with her, with nothing or no one else between us except the emanating energy drawing us together. 

“I see a beautiful work of art right here,” I said, “nothing could compare.” 

“Stop, you’re embarrassing me,” Jasmine said as she pulled away from me, grabbed my hand, and led me into the rear of the house. She opened the blinds to reveal several sets of French doors that led to the deck and backyard. We stepped onto the large wooden deck that stretched the length of the house. It overlooked a sloping, manicured lawn, which gently met a narrow creek. 

Jasmine noticed me staring off into space again and leaned into my shoulder, “Penny for your thoughts… again,” she said. I smiled and came out of my trance. “Sometimes I wonder why I stay in the city you know? The constant movement, sirens, people walking by all times of the night. Out here you can hear yourself think,” I said, walking down the stairs onto the lawn with my camera bag slung over my shoulder. 

“Yeah, that’s why I moved a bit further out, too much going on for me in the heart of the city,” Jasmine added, following me. “Where are you going? 

“This place is perfect, and the sun has started to go down so shadows won’t be as harsh,” I said, knowing full well I probably wasn’t making sense. 

“Perfect for what? Please tell me what you’re talking about,” Jasmine wanted to know. 

“Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted to take your picture.” 

“You just happen to have a camera in your car?” Jasmine was rightfully suspicious. 

“Since I was going to see you, I grabbed it just in case,” I said with a sly smile, “I hoped you would agree.” 

“Did you now?” Jasmine arched one eyebrow. 

“Yes, yes, I did.” I couldn’t pretend like my carrying a camera was anything other than what it really was. I thought Jasmine was gorgeous and the artist in me wanted to capture that. “Since you got all gussied up, why not let me photograph you?” I asked while pulling my camera out of its case. 

“Cause…” Jasmine said. 

“Cause what?” I wanted to know. 

“Cause I don’t necessarily like taking pictures,” she answered. 

“I get that but you’re beautiful,” I said. 

“You probably say that to all your girls.” 

“Not really,” I gently responded, which was the absolute truth. I aimed the camera towards Jasmine, adjusted the lens, and pressed the shutter button. “You know what makes you beautiful?” I asked. Click. 

“What?” Jasmine asked peeking out from behind the strands of hair that covered her face. 

“You’re smooth with it,” I said, “like, you know you’re beautiful, but you downplay it.” Click. “Hey, go stand next to those trees.” Click.

“T, you’re a bit over the top don’t you think?” Jasmine asked, trying to block the lens with her hand but she leaned against a tree anyway. Click. She stuck out her tongue. Click. Then frowned. Click, click. She did the look away, capture my profile thing. Click. She smiled. Click. She blushed. Click, click, click. 

“You’re not going to blackmail me with these photos, are you?” she asked. 

“Why would I do that?” “I don’t know. You know we’re still in that ‘getting to know you’ stage. How do I know you’re not going to do something malicious with them?” 

“You don’t. Does your intuition tell you I would?” I asked. 

“No.” 

“What does it tell you?” 

“You don’t want to know,” Jasmine said shyly. 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Never mind.” 

“You can’t just drop it like that,” I said reaching for Jasmine’s hand. “Tell me. What is your intuition telling you about me, about us being here, about our previously unspoken connection?” 

“So, you sense it too?” she asked. 

“How could I not?” I asked in return. 

After a long silence, Jasmine said, “T?” 

“Yeah?” 

“It scares me,” Jasmine said barely above a whisper and let my hand go. “The connection scares me. We’ve not known each other very long—a hot minute is being generous. I’m not supposed to think about you when I don’t see you at the Harbor. I’m not supposed to count the days until I see you again or the minutes between our e-mails. I’m not supposed to get all warm inside when I do see you.” 

“Your intuition tells you to run like hell?” 

“Yes and no, that’s the scary part.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she said reluctantly. 

“Why not?” 

“Because if I speak it into the atmosphere, if I speak about us, as if there is an us, if I start wondering ‘what if,’ I believe it becomes closer to reality.” 

“I get that, and you don’t want that reality?” I asked. 

“I don’t know T, I just don’t know,” Jasmine confessed, “My sensible, step-by-step approach to life says, ‘get as far away from you as I possibly can.’ On the other hand, I…” she abruptly interrupted her train of thought. “Come on, there’s more to see.” Jasmine grabbed my hand again and pulled me back towards the house. I really wasn’t that interested in looking at this suburban, buppie house. What I really wanted to do was continue our conversation and just be next to her. I didn’t have the urge to get her into bed, I just wanted to be near her, a departure from my norm. Was I getting soft or was Jasmine that special? Probably a little bit of both.

* * *

THIS: A Simple, Complex Love Story ©2023 by Naomi Rivers

Published by TLK Graphic Solutions

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Naomi Rivers writes lesbian romance and women’s fiction. Her first book, THIS: A Simple, Complex Love Story, was written while traveling on four continents. She is a retired U.S. military veteran and resides with her wife and rescue dog on the east coast.

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THE QUALITY OF HER VOICE BY J.E.J. FERN

Blurb:

In the late eighties a photographer regularly travels from Paris to London to visit friends. One day she hears the voice of a musician on the radio. This moment in time changes her life. This is the story of two women and their different choices.

Tell us about this scene:

This is the first time that Michele (the photographer) and Trish (the musician) meet for the first time.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This is and will always be my favourite scene of the book. Maybe because I used to go to this museum every time I was in London back in my twenties.

* * *

Excerpt:

But it is at the Natural History Museum that Pam wonders about the sanity of dragging Michèle into this touristic trip. In the Dinosaurs section, where the photographer makes a point of reading every plaque. Only a few visitors. There is time and space to breathe in the midst of the juxtaposed and reassembled bones. Michèle is contemplating the triceratops, when she sees on the other side…….

Trish has seen Michèle and her eyes attach themselves to her silhouette, strangely attracted. Not very far, she sees Pam. Her mind intuitively composes a formula and applies it to the equation: cap + camera = Hampstead Heath photos = Michèle Madek.

At the same moment, Michèle lifts her eyes from the triceratops and they meet Trish’s.

The planet stops rotating, the world rushes to a standstill. Totally outside, the visitors are blissfully ignorant; a German family walks past the unique tableau as if it was invisible, as if the triceratops itself did not exist. Pam looks at them, as still and inexpressive as the skeletons from the secondary period.

What Pam sees and feels in that moment, she will never talk about it. Talking about it would be too painful. Living is already so painful. Because Pam is in love, secretly. It is not a burden, it is not a happiness that would give her wings. And no one would know how to talk about it, because no one knows. Despite all that, she is in pain, and this brings questions. Is she in love with Michèle, and does she love her, on the condition that the photographer couldn’t hope anything from a voice for which she would cross every ocean? More basically, does she love Michèle only if Michèle is in pain?

Pam cannot move her eyes away because the question is there, compelling her to stare. How does she love her?

Contemplating their mutual contemplation is an unbearable thing. Hasn’t she chosen to keep silent, and in doing so, hasn’t she chosen to accept everything, whatever happens? Including this long visual exchange, overflowing with sensuality, like a unique and special bond that would have always united them beyond any geographical distance. Including this visual exchange harbouring a counterpoint of eroticism, this free and powerful visual exchange.

Pam is powerless against Trish and Michèle united, she can only watch and suffer, because beauty can hurt so much when one isn’t one of its participants. Pam is powerless against what she sees heralded. She looks away, and misses the fatal gesture that breaks the alliance of the two souls.

This look, at the crossroads of the souls, has them rooted on their spots on each side of the forgotten skeleton. Frozen in an intensity that Michèle never thought possible. Reaching toward these eyes, she feels somehow empty of energy, and at the same time supported by the strange force connecting them to each other.

Who could say how long this alliance lasted. The space of a world itself, isn’t it infinitesimal in the universe? The instant itself, isn’t it less than dust in the hourglass of Kronos? And eternity itself, does it know its own extent?

Trish would like to refuse these eyes, but the magnetism that attracts her is inexorable. She has to know, she has to understand, that this scene was always written. Michèle’s grey eyes seem to want to breath her in, she dares not refusing. However, when Michèle makes one step forward, one apparently inconsequential, but so unfortunate step, she knows to benefit from the broken alliance to free herself and run away. Quick, always faster, and farther away.

The tearing apart of the souls is silent, barely palpable. And Pam doesn’t know if she should rejoice or cry.

* * *

The Quality of Her Voice ©2013 by J.E.J. Fern

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

J.E.J. Fern wrote three novels during the 20th century. The first one she destroyed. The second one she archived. The third one she misplaced. In the 21st century she dug her second novel out of her archives and published it as 'The Quality of Her Voice'. Later, she gathered the short stories and published them under the title 'Dreams of 1990'.

MEMOIR

MAKING THE ROUNDS: DEFYING NORMS IN LOVE AND MEDICINE BY PATRICIA GRAYHALL

Blurb:

What was it like to survive an illegal abortion, come out as a lesbian, and train to become a doctor in the late 1960s and early ’70s—before Roe v. Wade, before Title IX, and in a largely homophobic nation?

This unflinching coming-of-age memoir, as riveting as a novel, was named one of Kirkus Reviews’ Best 100 Indie Books of 2022. Battling sexism in a male-dominated profession, Patricia plunges into a life that is never boring—and certainly never without passion.

Tell us about this scene:

My intense attraction to a straight colleague had been building for a year. She was gorgeous, British, a PhD scientist, and an ice queen. Despite the fact that I had a live-in woman lover, I could not get the ice queen out of my mind (and heart).

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

Many of us have been there. A straight, aloof, seemingly unapproachable ice queen captures our imagination and our heart. Then, for a moment, her walls comes down, and we are called to action when we least expect it. This scene is the tantalizing beginning of something--what exactly I don't know--after a year of mounting tension and yearning. This scene precedes the next where I throw caution to the wind and plunge in.

* * *

Excerpt:

Gillian returned to Boston from England to complete her fellowship a few days later… 

During dinner at an Italian restaurant, secluded in a corner booth, I recounted tales of my summer glowing with the pleasure of her presence. I hardly touched my food…Maybe I was not so over her after all.

As Gillian drove me home after dinner, I said with more casualness than I felt, “Wanna come upstairs for a drink?” 

When she hesitated, I swallowed hard, steeling myself for rejection.

“I should pack for my move, but I guess I can do that tomorrow. Sure, let’s have a drink.” She flashed her brilliant smile, and my heart leaped.

We sat on the couch together, a couple of feet apart. She spoke of her childhood and her time at Oxford…As we sipped our dessert port wine, I suggested ways we could make our Cambridge class even more relevant if we taught it again in the spring.

When Gillian rose to leave, I stopped her at the door and put my arms around her. I intended only to give her a friendly straight-woman hug goodbye, but she pulled me close for a full-body embrace and said, “You’re a really nice person—it’s so good to see you.” 

Not letting go, Gillian molded her body into mine. What is she doing? My heart raced and my mouth went dry. I wondered if she could feel my heart pounding. I brushed my cheek against her hair and tightened my arms around her. What does she want? My knees were rubbery, and I held on to her in part for support as she continued to press her body into mine. 

After several confusing moments, I pulled away. “I’m suffering from tachycardia,” I gasped.

The intensity of the moment broken, Gillian laughed. “You doctors are all the same.”

I took her hand and led her through the bedroom into the bright lights and yellow walls of the kitchen. I needed a glass of water. My legs were unsteady, my mouth full of cotton. I leaned against the counter and sipped my water, my hands shaking. Then I pulled Gillian close and kissed her. 

She tasted like Italian food. We carried on kissing, my tentativeness giving way to deeper hunger. I can’t believe this is happening. As I ran my hands over her strong back, I was only vaguely aware of the glare of the kitchen lights, the countertop pressing against my hip, and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

I pulled away from her. “How’re you feeling?’ 

“Ambivalent.”

“Why?” 

“Because you have a relationship with Maryann, and I have a relationship with no one. Because you’re a lesbian, and I’m not.”

I sighed. Either I let a woman move in who I didn’t love, or I pursued a woman who was not a lesbian, or I pushed away a woman I loved because I couldn’t commit—all with the same result: keeping love, risk, and vulnerability at bay.

I pulled her to me. “At this moment, does it matter?” 

“When I don’t allow myself to think, I enjoy it.” She relaxed into me.

I kissed her again, more deeply this time. My tongue detected something metallic, but I didn’t stop. Sensing she wanted me to do more, my body was vibrating with desire, but still uncertain. “I’m a little scared,” I said into her hair.

Gillian pulled away so she could see my face. “Why?”

“You caught me by surprise. You’re straight. I’m not sure what you want.” 

“I don’t know. It’s just…...

I unbuttoned my top and put her hand on my left breast. Then I slid my hands under her shirt and caressed her small, firm breasts. Her nipples became hard.

I hesitated, fumbling as if I’d never done this before. Nothing like how I performed with Cass. I’d had an obsessive desire for this woman for nearly a year. Now, amazingly, she was in my arms. I placed my hands on each side of her face and studied her; her lips parted, her dark eyes half closed, her head tipped back, neck exposed. She looked vulnerable and beautiful. 

Gillian laid her head on my breast, and I held her, my heart still pounding wildly.

Then she raised her face and kissed me, pressing hard, both of us breathing heavily. I bent backward against the kitchen cupboards as she pressed against my mouth, her legs around my thigh, her skirt stretched tight. Wow! 

I came up for air. “Gillian….”

She pulled back, her eyes unfocused..

“Would you like to lie down?” I asked.

Gillian looked at me for a long moment. My body tensed.

“Yes,” she said, “I must get some sleep before packing tomorrow.”

I gave her a sleeping shirt and looked away while she took off her clothes. Then she lay on top of the covers in a most alluring position. 

“Turn down the sheets and get in,” I said, but took my time getting undressed—my thoughts churning, my body tense—before slipping into bed next to her and spooning her from behind.

Lying full length next to her, I froze. This was the moment to take charge—but I did not. The gray dawn crept around the cracks in the blinds, and I let her drift off to sleep. 

While Gillian slept, I continued to hold her and lay awake, thinking. What does she want? Is this what she means by us “working it out”? Though her body signaled willingness, I hadn’t followed through, as if I were the one conflicted. Her words—that she was not a lesbian— warned me maybe this was not what it seemed, that if I took the bait, I would get hurt.

In the morning, I made her coffee and eggs. Gillian was cool and businesslike, and I didn’t touch her. I wanted to ask: What were you thinking? Are we still friends? But I didn’t.

* * *

Making the Rounds: Defying Norms in Love and Medicine ©2022 by Patricia Grayhall

Published by She Writes Press

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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* * *

About the Author:

Patricia Grayhall is a retired medical doctor. Her debut memoir, Making the Rounds; Defying Norms in Love and Medicine garnered a starred review in Kirkus Reviews. She’s published articles in Queer Forty, The Gay and Lesbian Review, The Millions, Lesbian Game Changers, and Seattle Magazine. She was recently interviewed by NPR.

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THE TURKEY BASTER DIARIES BY ELIZABETH JAMES

Blurb:

It is a myth universally acknowledged that lesbian couples use turkey basters to get pregnant.The Turkey Baster Diaries is a humorous, poignant and empowering autobiography of a British female couple’s turbulent quest for parenthood.

This book is for anyone who has ever thought about having children.

Introverted Lizzie and international traveller Anna meet; fall in love and marry. Anna had always wanted children; Lizzie was surprised but receptive. The couple make baby plans, but circumstances change and tension builds.

Will Lizzie and Anna be fairly treated?

Will they become parents?

Will it cost them their relationship?

As well as being a roller-coaster of a ride The Turkey Baster Diaries contain useful guidance for those on their own family quest.

“In a literary world with so little attention to LGBT parenting this tale is funny, profound and full of human honesty. You will laugh and shed a tear. Recommended wholeheartedly.” Mark Dowd, author Queer and Catholic.

Tell us about this scene:

This scene is taken from the early part of the story, where we undergo fertility testing to assess if we are able to have children.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love this part because it captures the humour of the book, and the social awkwardness of the English beautifully. It describes the lengths that women will go to to become parents, and makes clear that you don't always know what the results will be, or what will happen next...

* * *

Excerpt:

December 16th

Tea and tests at the fertility clinic

It was a contemporary building but felt much older. In one corner of the waiting room, a tea-hatch was operated by respectable old ladies wearing crossover aprons and twinkly smiles. It reminded of me a WW2 drama. I bought a tea and a coffee and prayed they didn’t ask any questions; I didn’t fancy coming out to Miss Marple.

We had no idea what lay ahead, but with hindsight, ignorance is bliss. For one test we each had to drink two pints of water, then return to the waiting room. That was hard enough. About an hour later I was called in first and told to strip from the waist and put on a hospital gown (the sort that shows your arse). I felt swollen, naked and deeply embarrassed. My display of support was starting to wear thin.

A voice from behind another door told me to come in. I shuffled over, trying to keep my gown closed and my dignity intact. The room was large, sparsely decorated and overly warm. In the centre was a gigantic dentist’s chair with leg rests. My heart rate started to rise.

Between the chair and an old-fashioned computer monitor stood a man who reminded me of the comic-shop owner in the Simpsons cartoon. Larger than life, with a ponytail and a short beard, he stood in stark contrast to a small, slim, mute female colleague. Apparently, I was to have an ultrasound. That didn’t sound so bad. A small rollerball was produced, but much to my horror it was not rubbed over my stomach.

The roller was attached to a phallic wand, which was attached to a cable and plugged into a 1990s PC monitor. I was told to sit on the dentist’s chair with my legs open and to ‘relax’ by Simpsons Guy. ‘Are you shitting me? Why don’t we spread your legs, shove a cold wand up your hole and tell you to relax?’ was the inner monologue I managed to stifle. He smiled professionally, proceeded to put a condom on the phallic thing, applied some blue gel, inserted it gently up my front bum and looked at the grainy screen. I was in discomfort overload, which was compounded by the shock of the freezing gel and the knowledge I had literally put myself in this position.

So mortified was I, that I had to start a conversation, but what to say? Simpsons man said he was going to take some photos. Crimson with embarrassment, I asked if I should smile. Jovially he responded, ‘The condom on the probe doesn’t keep out sperm’. I didn’t think this was an appropriate coming-out scenario, so retorted, ‘A condom in a fertility clinic seems oddly out-of-place’. The conversation moved onto my research job and studies. Why on earth did I think this was a suitable scenario for an academic discussion? Shock, probably. Bizarrely enough, after a few minutes I did start to relax, safe in the knowledge that even my PhD examination has to be less traumatic than this.

Unfortunately, the images from my camera weren’t clear enough to check for potential fallopian tube blockages. Consequently, I had to have an even more intrusive procedure. Me and my big supportive mouth! I donned the arse commando gown once more. This time I was taken to a larger room with a bigger chair and two straight-faced female nurses. My face was lobster pink, and regrettably my Simpsons funny man was nowhere to be seen. I started to panic. The last thing I wanted was sympathy. Too late: After I assumed the same position on what looked like a laser death-chair from a James Bond film, one nurse inserted something like a hunting rifle into my front bum. The other one told me how brave I was and asked me about my PhD. I really must stop telling people I’m a part-time student; it’s impossible to muster intellectual thoughts while your bottom half is being meddled with.

The hunting rifle contained orange liquid, which they used to highlight areas of my womb on a monitor. Again I was told to lie there and ‘relax’ while we discussed my research progress to date. This time it really did hurt, and I felt deeply uncomfortable. When finally allowed to sit up, I was told to ‘hold an incontinence pad underneath’, as the orange liquid would ‘just drip out’. Shame-faced and hurting, I shuffled sheepishly back to the changing room. My front bum dripped orange liquid, while my back bum smiled at the world. My boundaries of humiliation had reached new lows. I vowed never to tell anyone or offer medical support ever again.

The Turkey Baster Diaries ©2021 by Elizabeth James

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Elizabeth James is an English writer and researcher living in NW England; she adores reading Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters; watching rugby and world cinema; playing cajon in a band (pandemic permitting) and growing her own veggies.

MY MOTHER SAYS DRUMS ARE FOR BOYS BY RAE THEODORE

Blurb:

My Mother Says Drums Are For Boys is a humorous and heartfelt memoir comprised of stories about that middle place where boy and girl collide. Rae Theodore grew up as a young butch (or tomboy, as it was called back in the day), wanting to play the drums, wear football jerseys like her brother and always be in close proximity to Olivia Newton-John. She’s tried to conform to gender norms at different points in her life. She really has. It wasn’t until Rae came out later in life and embraced those things that always made her happy-baseball caps, flannel shirts, neckties in every color of the rainbow-that she discovered her authentic self. My Mother Says Drums Are For Boys is required reading for all butches, genderqueers and other gender warriors and rebels, as well as anyone interested in looking at gender in a new way.

Tell us about this scene:

In fourth grade, I am excited that I can pick out an instrument to learn to play. I decide on the drums, but my mother informs me that drums are for boys and crushes my dreams. It's one of many "boy" things that I am denied as I grow up. I end up choosing the flute, which I hate.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

This scene shows the long-term damage that can occur when a person is denied something because of gender and sets the stage for the rest of the book. Plus, it's funny and always gets a laugh when I read it to an audience.

* * *

Excerpt:

I end up selecting another instrument.

The flute.

I had remembered the famous Spirit of '76 painting with the three Revolutionary War soldiers playing the fife and drums. Despite having a bleeding head wound, the fife player is marching alongside the two drummers and defiantly blowing into his instrument. He seems like a bad ass. The flute, the modern-day equivalent of the fife, seems like a bold choice.

It isn’t.

I'm pretty sure the flute is the opposite of the drums.

The flute smells like old metal and spit.

I suck at playing the flute. That first year, I’m last chair. I have never been last in anything in my life.

I tell myself that being last will make me a better person because it will make me humble.

It doesn't. It makes me angry and resentful. I'm angry at my mother and the silver instrument with the felt-padded fingers.

I throw the flute down the stairs and dent its long torso, scarring it for life. "You had it coming," I say, "always staring at me with your one creepy eye." I don't feel guilty, even though my dad is still making payments to the music store in town.

I just turned 50, and I still blame much of everything that went wrong in my life on not being allowed to play the drums.

It's a constant beat in the background of my life, all of those things I was forbidden from having.

Drums!

Boy clothes!

G.I. Joe!

I bring up the whole drum thing at Easter dinner one year.

Everyone rolls their eyes as if they are all competing in an eye-rolling contest. Not the goddamn drum story again, they say with their eyes.

"Isn't that why you ended up becoming a lesbian?" my wife says to stir the pot.

"Yes!" I respond, slamming my fist on the table so hard that the ice cubes in the ice water strike the China goblets in which they're floating and make a pinging noise.

And then I’m angry again thinking about how great my life could have been if I had been allowed to play the drums. I could have played with the ultimate girl band, The Runaways, and later gone on the road with Joan Jett and the Blackhearts. Me and Joan Jett not giving a damn about our reputations and scoring so many chicks. I make the Ronnie James Dio sign of the horns in my head as I'm sitting with a white cloth napkin on my lap in my mother's contemporary dining room with the shiny surfaces and sharp edges.

I never push back years later by taking drum lessons as an adult and fulfilling my childhood dream.

I save my resistance for bigger things that come later like coming out and marrying a woman. Those things are drum lessons times one thousand, plus a couple of Billie Jean Kings. By then, it’s the 21st century and the world has started to catch up to me.

* * *

My Mother Says Drums Are for Boys ©2018 by Rae Theodore

Published by Regal Crest

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Buy direct from the publisher

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Rae Theodore (she/they) is a memoirist and poet. Most recently, she published How to Sit Like a Lesbian, a poetry chapbook. Rae’s work has been nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. She lives in Royersford, Pennsylvania, and is collecting stories for Swagger, an anthology celebrating butches.

SHORT STORY COLLECTION

TO ITALY WITH LOVE BY FIONA ZEDDE

Blurb:

Getting away from it all doesn't necessarily mean escape. In these three stories, women leave their familiar spaces - countries, landscapes, states of mind - to discover uncharted, but not always idyllic, territories with lovers old and new.

Tell us about this scene:

Iris, a newly dumped serial monogamist, travels to her friend's destination wedding and meets the much younger and slightly offensive Chrisanne. It’s hate at first sight. At a peace-offering of a meal, the two discover an explosive attraction and decide to act on it.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love this scene in To Italy with Love because it throbs with the rhythm of longing. From the sound of the women’s high heels on the pavement to the last moment’s unexpected silence, it’s a beautiful and sensual song I never get tired of re-reading.

* * *

Excerpt:

“You taste good...” 

She didn’t know who said it. But it didn’t matter. Chrisanne’s hips under her hands felt sublime, rounded and perfect against her palms, the skin hot through her slacks.

Iris could think of at least a half dozen reasons not to do this. But between the hot suction of Chrisanne’s mouth around her tongue and the girl’s hands, careful and tender at the small of her back, Iris lost every single one of those reasons to the slow river dripping between her legs.

“Let’s pay and leave,” Chrisanne said against her lips, voice rough, fingers never leaving the base of Iris’ spine. Something in that was more erotic than if she’d touched her anywhere else.

Iris could only whimper her agreement.

They left the restaurant under the wounded gaze of the waitress who wished, Iris knew, that she was in her place, and hurried down the hill to the villa. They didn’t talk. There was no reason to. It was just the click of their shoes on the road, their anticipatory breathing, the smell of summer flowers in the air. That time should have given Iris the clarity to say no. But instead it only amplified her desire, made her want Chrisanne even more, made her lose every single shred of the common sense that she might have had.

Those minutes had her imagining the ways that she would have Chrisanne. Spread out on the bed with her blouse ripped from her shoulders and spilling out the thick fruit of her breasts. She thought, with heart-tripping pleasure, of the way Chrisanne would look under the lamplight coming through the curtains from the bedroom’s balcony, the noises she would make when Iris kissed between her legs, the clench and quiver of her stomach muscles when she came.

Before they made it back to the villa, Iris had already had Chrisanne in a dozen different ways in her mind, and the pulse between her legs only throbbed for more. 

The walk was relatively quick, or it felt that way with the things slipping and wriggling through Iris’ thoughts. 

Sex. Sex. Sex. 

It shouldn’t have been that way. She should be more careful. But she was so tired of careful and of having to do things the way other people wanted, easing herself into their lives in a way that was palatable to them. 

Sometimes, she just wanted. She wanted to take and be taken. The simplicity of a sexual transaction that had been denied to her all of her life. It was the bottle of red wine talking. It had to be. There was no other reason she was thinking and feeling this way.

At the villa, they paused in the long hallway leading to the bedrooms.

“Yours?” Chrisanne asked, breathless.

To answer, Iris nudged her further down the hallway toward the other room. Unlike hers, no one would likely come knocking on Chrisanne’s door, asking for something related to the wedding. Iris didn’t want to be interrupted. Not now, not tonight. 

Chrisanne opened her door with a practiced twist of her wrist, pulled Iris into the dark room and shoved her back against the door. They kissed. More of an exchange of hot breath, tender lips bruising against teeth, a clumsy desperation that was at odds with what they had done on the restaurant’s balcony. 

Iris panted into Chrisanne’s mouth, fingers digging into her waist. Someone was making desperate little noises, by the time she realized it was her, they had moved from the door to the bed. Chrisanne pushed her down into soft sheets, a hand at the back of Iris’ neck to lift her mouth even more into her kisses. The flavor of wine was long gone. Licked and sucked away, leaving only the taste of Chrisanne, a fresh and crisp flavor on her tongue.

“You taste incredible, so fucking delicious.”

When Chrisanne pulled her mouth away to gasp the words, Iris found herself smiling. That was one thing she never thought of this woman as, gentle and sweet, making her partner feel as good with words as she could with her hands and mouth. But then again, maybe that was why the women flocked back to her bed again and again.

“You’re not what I expected,” Iris said between kisses, aware of the slowing down of the frantic now now now in her blood. The sweetness from Chrisanne was like honey over her skin. She suspected the woman would know what she was doing in bed, but this, this unexpected attention to all parts of the seduction, made Iris weak.

Their kisses slowed even more. Or more precisely, she slowed her kisses and Chrisanne followed her lead, nipping lightly at her lips, licking into her mouth, pulling back to breathe before connecting again, their tongues twining against each other, a slick and sensuous dance that made Iris squirm against the sheets and ache for more contact. But she kept her thighs closed and tucked to the side. The skirt of her dress was a rustling wall of cotton and tulle between them, delaying that press of hips to hips that would take things further than they were both ready for. But she moaned into Chrisanne’s mouth, enjoying the slide of their tongues, the slow eroticism of them moving against each other in the bed.

Iris didn’t know when the slow became stop. Only that she felt the fluttering of Chrisanne’s lashes against her cheek, her mouth’s stillness which she answered with a stillness of her own. Then there was even more darkness, then sleep.

* * *

To Italy with Love ©2015 by Fiona Zedde

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

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Other Stores

* * *

About the Author:

Fiona Zedde is the author of a few dozen novels, including the Lambda Literary Award finalists Bliss and Every Dark Desire. Her book, Dangerous Pleasures, was winner of an About.com Readers’ Choice Award for Best Lesbian Novel. Her latest, Stud Like Her, is available now. Find out more at www.FionaZedde.com.

Sign up here for Fiona Zedde ’s author newsletter.

TWISTED IMAGES BY BLAIR STERNE

Blurb:

A collection of dark and twisted short stories of queer women dealing with various traumas and demons.

Potential Trigger Warnings:

The further you read, the worse these stories get content wise. Some of them deal with addiction, false imprisonment, or they contain torture, and/or murder. One story entails an explicit sex scene, however, none of these stories contain any form of rape/sexual violence. While one story mentions the loss/murder of a child (there are no explicit details), no children or animals are harmed in these writings.

Tell us about this scene:

There's an arsonist on the loose, while Claudia deals with her controlling father and her alcoholic mother. She finds an outlet of her own.

Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

I love all the short stories in this collection, but this one is special because you can't really tell who the villain is, and you might even end up rooting for them.

* * *

Excerpt:

Claudia grabbed her bag and headed for the door. She stopped and gazed at her mother, passed out drunk on the couch. Shaking her head, she left the apartment building and headed downtown. She hated public transportation, but the destination was too far out. Claudia stared out of the window of the bus, ignoring the smell of urine and vomit permeating the compartment. She hated this city. 

After half an hour, the bus stopped at the harbor. Claudia and an older lady left the bus together. She smiled at the woman before heading toward the dock. Maybe this was escalating, but her research was solid and left no doubts—the investigation and calculation determined the day. She didn’t follow a random whim. Claudia pulled her jacket closer and slipped on her gloves, shivering in the cold that bit harder than she’d expected. 

Arriving at the address, she pulled out her phone to check the security system she had hacked into earlier. Everything was set; the system disabled, and the streets barren. She edged to the building, stealing inside. 

The lot stood vacant. 

Claudia opened her bag and placed the milk jugs full of acetone on the floor. She added a wad of cloth to the containers before securing the wicks. She placed one flagon under a stack of wooden crates, and the other inside an assortment of cardboard boxes. Lighting the tapers, she rushed out of the building. 

She’d scoped out an abandoned house up the road. It had the perfect view to enjoy her latest work. Marching up the road, Claudia sped up at the distant sound of sirens. They couldn’t already know?

She slid into the empty house and sprinted up the stairs. She’d rarely found an observation spot with such an amazing outlook. Claudia threw her bag on the floor and sighed when she opened the balcony door and stepped outside. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”

“No problem. I had my book to keep me company.” Su smiled. “Did everything work out?”

“Let’s check it out. Come on!” Claudia pulled Su to her feet and together they moved to the railing. 

“I think this is the best view yet.” Su squeezed Claudia’s hand, who nodded, her gaze transfixed on the red and orange flames engulfing the building near the docks, flickering against the night sky.

Dark smoke billowed up, and Claudia inhaled deeply. 

“I’ve had this vision last night,” Su rasped. 

“Oh?” Claudia’s gaze found her girlfriend’s, and she noted the blown, dark pupils, sure her own eyes mirrored Su’s.

Su stepped closer.

Claudia shivered when Su’s hot breath ghosted over her cool skin. 

“I want to taste you while you enjoy the sight of your hard work,” Su whispered, claiming Claudia’s mouth in a hard and deep kiss while unbuttoning her pants, stealing inside. She broke the kiss.

Claudia panted.

Su slipped her fingers beneath Claudia’s panties and stroked through her wetness, her eyes never leaving Claudia’s face. “You are drenched.”

Claudia groaned, holding on tight to the railing. 

Su smiled before falling to her knees. She dragged Claudia’s jeans down, followed by her panties, and sunk her face between her legs, licking along sodden curls. She drew Claudia’s labia between her lips before pushing two fingers inside.

Claudia moaned. Her eyelids fluttered and she shifted her gaze from the glowing blazes to Su on her knees, groaning as she fucked Claudia until her knees were in danger of buckling. Her knuckles whitened when she increased her grip to steady herself. She whimpered when Su pulled out of her, then sobbed as she pressed back inside with three fingers while sucking her clit into her mouth. 

Su picked up the pace of both her fingers and tongue.

Claudia’s gaze returned to the fire as Su’s clever tongue and deft fingers hurried her toward an explosive climax. She gasped, trembling, then froze before she shuddered in a hard release, Su’s name spilling from her lips as maroon and coral embers danced in front of her eyes.

* * *

Twisted Images ©2022 by Blair Sterne

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can purchase this book from:

Amazon

Available in Kindle Unlimited

* * *

About the Author:

Blair loves to write, but sadly doesn't have enough time to do so.