Monday, October 20, 2014

Spooky, sexy spot #8: Lucy Felthouse

Today's spot is the lovely Lucy Felthouse with a tragic past, a lost love, and a stunning secret...

Emily arrives at Westbury Hall with a job to do. She’s to clean and conserve all of the books in their impressive library, preserving them for future generations. Not long into her stay at the house, she bumps into the night guard, George. She’d expected an old, balding guy with a comb over, so the hunky chap she actually meets is a very pleasant surprise. The introductions complete, George leaves Emily in peace to get on with her job. But when a falling photograph sets off a chain reaction of ghostly events, Emily and George are thrown together in order to find out who—or what—is causing them. Their investigation uncovers a tragic past, a lost love, and a stunning secret.

PLEASE NOTE: This is a revised and extended of a previously published title, Love Through Time.

Emily received some strange looks and frowns from the people she passed as she walked across the graveled drive towards the front entrance of Westbury Hall. She could appreciate their confusion. It was closing time for the stately home and the last of the visitors were being politely ushered out of the building, yet she was heading inside. What’s more, she’d been invited. She had a job to do.

An elderly lady stood in the porch smiling and nodding as she held the door open for those departing the property. Most of them seemed in no hurry to leave, stopping to make comments to the woman, thanking her for a lovely visit and so on. Emily waited patiently, allowing the patrons to leave before attempting to get in. When the staff member—most likely a volunteer, Emily thought—caught sight of her, she gave her a polite nod of acknowledgment.

Finally, the last of Westbury Hall’s visitors moved out, leaving Emily free to enter. Climbing the single stone step to the threshold of the front porch, she took the hand that had already been offered to her.

Shaking Emily’s hand with a surprising firmness, the woman said, “You must be Miss Stone.” Her smart appearance and the intelligence in her eyes indicated that despite her advancing age, she was far from past it, “I’m Mrs. Thompson, house supervisor.”

“I am,” replied Emily, dropping her hand back to her side, “but please, call me Emily. It’s lovely to meet you. So, house supervisor? Do you live on site?” Not a volunteer, then, but a paid member of staff.

Indicating Emily should step inside the entrance hall, Mrs. Thompson proceeded to close and lock the porch and front doors of the house, securing them in.

“I do,” the older woman said, turning back to face Emily, “I have rooms in a separate building just off the back of this one. So you needn’t worry about me disturbing you.”

“Oh no,” said Emily, worried she’d inadvertently rubbed Mrs.  Thompson up the wrong way, “I didn’t mean that. I was just curious, that’s all. You’re more than welcome to see me at work, Mrs. Thompson, although I’m afraid you won’t see anything terribly exciting.”

Mrs. Thompson smiled now, the warmth reaching her eyes. Emily almost sagged with relief. She’d yet to see the extent of the work she had to do, but she’d been told it was no easy task, so she could be here for some time. The last thing she needed was to upset any of the staff.

“Oh, you’d be surprised, my dear. This is a fascinating old place. Of course, all these old houses have history, but Westbury Hall’s is particularly rich.”

Emily smiled. The woman’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Well then,” she replied, “I can’t wait to learn more about it. I hope you’ll feed me some historical tidbits throughout the time I’m here?”

Mrs. Thompson gave an enigmatic smile. Then, startling Emily somewhat, she turned smartly on her heel and walked deeper into the house. “Come, my dear, I won’t hold you up any longer. I’ll show you to the library, where you’ll soon start uncovering Westbury’s illustrious history for yourself.”

About the author:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:

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On Halloween:
Favorite aspect of Halloween~Snuggling up inside with the heating on, eating sweets and reading spooky books!

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Spooky, sexy spot #7: Lynn Townsend

Today we have Lynn Townsend for our spooky, sexy spot #7 (try saying that three times fast!). Lynn wrote one of my favorite stories in Coming Together: Hungry for Love, my zombie anthology to benefit the American Diabetes Association. Dead in the Water had me holding my breath while I read it. When I got to the end I energetically scrawled YES! across her submission in red sharpie. Today she's not offering zombies. Today it's some blood suckers. Perfect time of year for a good suck, and you just know it will be good ;)

p.s. Check out the end of this post for the current contest on Lynn's blog. 

Reluctant oracle and consultant for the Paranormal Police, Rachael Kristoff, has problems, and the vampire at her front door is only the beginning. Threatened by supernatural foes, hampered by her malfunctioning clairvoyance, and betrayed by the only family she has left, Rachael is forced to rely on her former lover. For the sake of both of their souls, she will make the only choice left open to her: Depend on the vampire, or die.

Bound to the bloodline of the Oracles since the fall of the Roman Empire, accused of murder, and betrayed by his own vampire Childe, Marcus Valerius is a relic of past glories better left in a previous era. For centuries, he has protected the children of Delphi against all who would control the future for their own purposes. Now, saving the life of the only woman he has ever loved means destroying the Oracular abilities he's sworn to protect.


"It is likely that you are correct," Marcus said. I glanced at him, what was with the change of opinion? He raised his head and sniffed at the air. "There are creatures approaching the building at rapid speed. It is unclear their intentions, but I do not believe it could be of any good."

"What creatures?" Damn it, there were times when I really wish I had better control over my own abilities. My mother would have been able to scan ahead a few moments, see what was heading toward us, and know the best path for avoidance. If I was lucky, I could call up an oracular trance after a few hours of meditation, and only under very strict conditions. Never yet had I been able to see my own future. Of course, given what had happened to my mother, that wasn't entirely a bad thing. I pushed that thought firmly away.

"Animalcules, I believe."

"Great. I always love those." My sarcasm could have cut someone off at the knees. Animalcules were easier to create than their humanoid counterparts, but no less dangerous. Mostly. Homunculus have some limited form of reason; animalcules could only follow orders given them by their creator. Bring me that person. Burn down that building. Steal this item. Kill those vampires. Stuff like that. They couldn't be trusted for more than two-step directions, either, and were often easier to evade. On the down side, animalcules were shock troops, powerfully armored and weaponed. They were built for speed, strength, and brute force. I had a nice set of scars on my left hip from my last encounter with an animalcule cat. It had mostly resembled a house cat, except it was the size of a Mini Cooper.

I recovered the glock from my backpack, zipped the opening, and slung the pack over my shoulder. 

"You owe me toiletries. And a new house."

"Gladly. I would be honored that you would accept such a gift." Marcus presented me with a rare, sincere smile. Bastard actually looked touched, pleased. I imagined that he would--he'd always made a show of his generosity to me. The muscles in my stomach made an interesting, not unpleasant squirm. Angrily, I brushed the effects away. That part of my life was over. This was a job, and like any other employer, he was obligated to cover my expenses.

I slipped to the window, flicked the curtain apart with two fingers and peered out. The light wasn't good, of course. I kept a few floodlights on in the backyard, but the creatures avoided coming into direct contact with the electric lights. There was something about artificially created light that bothered the paranormal. Good thing I knew that. I opened one last drawer and pulled out an enormous hand-held spotlight.

There were other means of protection I could employ, if Marcus wasn't around. Loud, artificial sound would interfere with their sense of hearing. I kept loudspeakers keyed to my iPod outside, as well as additional floodlights. The problem was, of course, that Marcus would be just as affected.

"Why can't you just mist up and meet me a few blocks over," I muttered. I eyed the remote longingly. 

A few keytaps and my house would be surrounded by an instant rave. Flood and strobe lights would carpet the lawn, blinding and distracting the animalcules. Daft Punk would blare from the speakers, confusing their hearing. With two senses rendered useless, I could probably get past them before they thought to use their sense of smell to track me. Assuming, of course, that they were tracking me. They could just as easily be after Marcus.

"Should there ever come a method that one could use to safely alter the past," Marcus mused, "I believe I shall return to 1894 and shoot Stoker."


"Not one vampire, ever, has mastered the ability to shape-shift so profoundly as to become mist. It is a storyteller's embellishment." Marcus actually looked angry, his flat black eyebrows bristling.

"You are a constant disappointment to me."

About the author:

Lynn Townsend is a geek, a dreamer and an inveterate punster. When not reading, writing, or editing, she can usually be found drinking coffee or killing video game villains. Lynn's interests include filk music, romance novels, octopuses, and movies with more FX than plot. You can find out more at 

Buy Link:

On Halloween:

Halloween is, actually, my favorite holiday. It's fun, doesn't involve major expenditures (a costume, some decorations, bags of candy for trick or treaters, replacement candy after I eat the first bag, etc) and has absolutely no familial obligations whatsoever.

Contest running through the end of the month on PAID BY THE WEIRD.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Spooky, sexy spot #6: J.A. Kossler

Today's spot is J.A. Kossler with a secret police force in Venomoid...


In Venomoid, paranormal creatures are governed by the IPO, a secret police force that ensures vampires, zombies, and others follow all required public safety regulations. Among the officers is seventeen-year-old Lorin, the IPO's most skilled cadet. His co-workers distrust him, however, and in extreme cases barely tolerate him. As a vampire, he must follow the rules--including turning a blind eye to the IPO's practice of torturing prisoners--or face death by sunlight exposure.

On one intense dragon-hunting mission, Lorin encounters Lex, a handsome but flesh-eating paranormal who is quickly intrigued by the young vampire. Lorin fears this hunter, but as an unexpected friendship unfolds between the two, an even more unlikely romance blossoms. The problem is Lex is on the IPO's radar, and when they capture him for scientific experimentation, Lorin must risk his life to overthrow the organization he's always feared in order to save his love.

J.A. Kossler is a web developer with a great love for unusual characters and spooky worlds. Their combined love of young adult titles, paranormal romance, and gay fiction has compelled them to write books combining all three elements -- what they’d like to read! While J.A. spends most of their time focused on their RPG world--called Otherworlde Academy--they also enjoy developing new games to entertain players who like mythological creatures and adorable pets.

Favorite aspect of Halloween
My favorite aspect of Halloween has always been the freedom to dress up however you like, and all of Halloween-friendly society appreciates it instead of finding you silly and strange! There’s nothing cooler than seeing unique, hand-made costumes debuting at contests, and going into character in your own special costume is especially fun.

Buy Links


            Trampled vegetation littered the werewolf’s trail. A full moon punched a hole in the darkness; clouds drifted over it, their wispy forms tugged by strong autumn winds. A massive gray wolf shoved through the bushes. Full moons disoriented werewolves, which explained the sloppy stalking, but it also granted them immense strength. I’d brought my stun gun along with a tranquilizer rifle just in case.
A twig snapped under my foot. I froze. Had he heard?
The wolf stopped, then lifted a leg. A blast of wind brought the faint scent of urine. Testosterone and adrenaline sharpened my senses. I rested the rifle stock on my shoulder. With one flick of my finger, a needle loosed, then embedded into the werewolf’s haunch. The beast jerked, throwing back his head in a long, furious howl.
Okay, that was bad. Underbrush crunched in the distance. How many werewolves could I handle at once? I had to be fast.
The wolf ahead crumpled. His paws churned the dirt; dust motes drifted into moonlight fractured by the trees. Let’s get this over withI don’t want to be caught out here by multiple wolves if he called for backup. I stood, resting the rifle against my shoulder, then approached him. His muzzle curled, revealing yellow teeth.
“Sir, I am Lorin from the International Paranormal Organization,” I said, stopping out of the wolf’s nipping range. “You have violated Section 4.1 of the Werewolf Breeding Regulations. A report was filed against you by anonymous tip. Before attempting to sire a litter, you must submit a form of intent—”
A loud snarl made me jump. A second wolf leapt from the bushes and knocked me on my back. We hit the ground hard. Her scratchy gray fur suffocated me. Hair filled my mouth, and hot drool splattered onto my cheek. She snapped at my face. I turned my head just in time to avoid her teeth.
I slashed at her eyes. She screeched, backing away. Her dull claws frayed my suit. I kneed her in the face; that jacket had not been cheap. She shook her massive head, her lips spraying drool. I yanked my stun gun from my belt then rolled to my feet.
A third large form hurtled at me. I sidestepped, ending up beside the first she-wolf. Her jaws clamped on my forearm. I screamed and dropped the stun gun. The other she-wolf knocked it away with a kick. Oh, god!