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Genre: Gay/Lesbian - Readers searching for such books, please visit here. Authors of such books, please post yours here.

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Showing 1-25 of 266 posts in this discussion
Initial post: Feb 1, 2012 4:07:51 PM PST
I have been corresponding with several readers in the fora and they would like to see more organization in the threads to make it easier to find a book of interest. This thread is an attempt to help them. Authors please post a a link and a short promo describing your book. If you have books available in another genre, please check to see if the thread exists and post your work there.

I would like to thank Shannon Bailey and Emma Daniels who have started many genre based promo threads to help readers find books of interest. I have added a few and watched as they rapidly fall from the top of the list. Many of us have asked Ammy to make these some type of "sticky" threads so that they would be readily accessible to author and reader alike but this request has been ignored.

For more genre based links please see the list @

Posted on Feb 1, 2012 8:35:01 PM PST
I am glad to see your post here - when I posted a similar thing a few weeks back there was zero response and I thought there were no writers or readers of LGBT fiction here.

I have a several books - which I would like to feature in this thread from time to time.

I also would like to invited those interested in gay and lesbian fiction that ranges from historical, humor and paranormal/supernatural elements to old-fashioned horror to visit my blog site to see all my book covers, blurbs, excerpts and information & links on purchasing e-book or print edition.

Posted on Feb 1, 2012 8:39:02 PM PST
Last edited by the author on Feb 1, 2012 8:43:44 PM PST
1-2-3 Okay Everybody Change! LGBT comedy/fiction set in 1999)
This LGBT Comedy set in 1999 is aimed at an adult audience, and has numerous sexual references, although it is not overly explicit.

* * *

French Toast, female medical student at the Frankenstein College of Medicine and Trivia, is off for a gay ol' time at the Cherub's Cheeks Club featuring a lesbian amateur strip contest and a hunky pro dancer who calls himself Roman Candle.

Thanks to the surgical genius of his friend, Frenchie and the fact she stole the parts, the former Loretta Periwinkle has been able to realize her dream of becoming a male stripper called Roman Candle.

Someone has put out a hit on Roman Candle! When the hit goes awry, everything's up in the air including Roman's private parts.

However, that's just the beginning for this cast of characters:

There's also French's teacher - Dr. Patsy Petite - perhaps an overly enthusiastic sex pioneer as well as a multi-talented teacher and surgeon with a sideline as a vet. She's got a lot on her plate.

George & Martha Miller, French's neighbors, discover concealed cameras can capture a lot of interesting things and blackmail can fluff out one's bank account as well.

Melba Toast - suburban mother and hit woman might be just a little too fond of her gun.

Self-serving Bishop Kilroy Periwinkle, who goes into an altered state during his severe migraines is trying to get Governor Jimmy-Bob Doop re-elected. However, when the Governor has a freakish accident that leads to some very unconventional surgery done on him by Dr. Patsy Petite, it affects his personality and possibly his election.

Everybody's either made some changes or will be making some changes - sometimes in gender, sometimes in personality and sometimes even what species they are!

Available only at Amazon at this time, as an e-book. Free for a limited time to those who have a prime membership with Amazon
1-2-3 Okay Everybody Change!

Also available in print edition:

For an excerpt from this book, please visit my blog site at:

Posted on Feb 2, 2012 8:00:41 PM PST
I am beginning to wonder if I am the only LGBT writer here!
Well, since this thread has been provided for that purpose, I will talk a bit about my e-book "Adventures in Hollywood."


Set in 1950's Hollywood.

With the help of a gay friend, a cross-dressing lesbian exacts a unique revenge on a brutish, homophobe.

Marian Feldman Horiwitz, a lesbian in her early thirties, was doing well in a front marriage with a gay man with whom she worked in horror films, under the names Kris and Karisma Harris. She is faced with a financial situation when Hollywood doesn't want her when she's no longer part of a team.

At the suggestion of a gay photographer friend, Karisma opens an acting school. She soon becomes romantically and sexually interested in one of her adult students, a very talented young actress who, unfortunately has a brutish boyfriend.

This story is available in e-book form only at Amazon
Adventures in Hollywood

Posted on Feb 3, 2012 9:36:05 PM PST
Title: Blood Love
author: Helen Dunn
vampire/werewolf/and romance
contemporary setting in Europe

Eighteen year old Alexis Holden is immediately attracted to Dominique Tinnel, the new, young teacher who arrives at Chenier Academy - an exclusive girls prep school - located in the mountains and forests of Switzerland.

Dominique feels likewise, but refrains from expressing her feelings because Alexis is her student.

Both Alexis and Dominique fall under the spell of the mysterious Countess Benay Basquaist - who unknown to them - is an ancient and powerful vampire.

Brief Excerpt/the scene is much longer and more erotic in the book

"Have you ever met her, the Countess I mean?" Dominique asked.

"Yes, no, I mean, I've seen her. She's tall, dark, very beautiful..." Alexis paused, not only at the realization of her words of admiration, but the fact the mention of the Countess had brought back the memory of the strange encounters that had occurred the past summer shortly after her arrival at Chenier Academy. Only she had convinced herself, they had, of course, been dreams she'd had during an interval of sleep-walking.

It had been a beautiful moonlit night, and she had felt drawn to go walking on one of the hiking paths that surrounded the academy.

It had seemed both real and yet not, but everything that followed had been so strange she had known it had to have been only a dream, followed by three similar dreams that summer.

She had not gone far along the path when she had encountered a tall, beautiful woman with long, straight, black hair who was dressed in a black satin shirt and black leggings with boots and with a long, black cloak flung back from her shoulders.

She had smiled at Alexis, her white teeth gleaming in the dim light, and had told her she was Benay Basquaist, it was later Alexis had learned of her title. Alexis had smiled in return and given her name as well.

"I know who you are." The Countess had said, surprising Alexis. "I have seen you about on the school grounds. You are new here at Chenier aren't you?" Although a question, the Countess seemed to want no answer.

Come with me, Alexis." She had said in a soft, coaxing tone, and Alexis had willingly followed her off the pathway into a bed of ferns.

The Countess had removed her cloak and laid it down atop the ferns and stretched out on it and held up a hand to Alexis, and drew her down beside her. She had turned towards Alexis and cupped her face in her hands and gazed deeply into her eyes in a manner that made the young woman feel hypnotized. She could not take her gaze from those riveting black eyes, and then the Countess had kissed her quite thoroughly.
* * *
Available as an e-book at Amazon
Blood Love

Print edition available at Createspace:

Posted on Feb 4, 2012 6:27:15 AM PST
[Deleted by Amazon on Dec 29, 2014 4:52:08 PM PST]

Posted on Feb 4, 2012 6:27:55 AM PST
[Deleted by Amazon on Dec 29, 2014 4:52:08 PM PST]

Posted on Feb 4, 2012 7:41:57 PM PST
Last edited by the author on Feb 5, 2012 8:40:11 PM PST
BOOTLEG - author: Helen Dunn
Set in 1925

Bullets, Booze, and Love!

The story revolves around independent, tough, young mountain woman, Bailey Skinner, a bootlegger, who is falling for pretty widow, Minnie Givens, who doesn't approve of "the devil's brew".

Bailey, her pit bull named Moonshine, and her partner, Little Jack - who may be small in size but big in courage - are also dealing with a crooked Sheriff, and shoot-outs with rival bootleggers.

Suddenly a bullet whizzed next to Bailey's booted foot causing her to jump a bit, startled by the unexpectedness of it.

"You think I won't shoot you!"

"Oh I can see you would, Miss Minnie." Bailey said doffing her big, wide-brimmed hat, and giving her a bow. She plucked a long, thin blade of grass and put it between strong, white teeth, chewing on it meditatively, as she took a seat on a nearby large boulder.

Minnie stood watching her warily.

"Tell me something, "Bailey said after a moment, "just how in the world do you go about making a living on this here mountain, Miss Minnie?"

Minnie was momentarily taken aback.

"I have my goats and chickens and pigs." Minnie told her.

"And you make a living from them critters do ya?"

"Yes. I sell milk and cheese and eggs, and a pig now and then." Minnie said.

"I see. Well, I ask, because I was born and raised in these mountains. Born in that house right over yonder," Bailey gestured, "where I still live for that matter, and I've yet to see a good way of a woman making a living around here. And yet, here you are, an outsider, and you tell me you're making a living here on Lone Peak."

"While I am, as you say, an outsider, I grew up on a farm, and I can assure you, Bailey Skinner, there are honest ways to make a living."

"You ever tasted home brew, Miss Minnie?" Bailey reached for her pocket and Minnie's rifle barrel which had been lowering, came back up. Bailey held up her hands. "No weapon, no weapon, just something I want to show you." She reached again, very slowly into her pocket and produced a flask. "Smoothest tasting stuff you'll ever have on your tongue." She held the flask out towards the other woman.

"No thank you!" Minnie said tartly.

"Oh come now, one sip won't send you to the devil." Bailey said with a smile, standing and coming towards her, the flask held out. She grinned with pure delight as Minnie, the rifle barrel now towards the ground, began to back up.

Within moments, Bailey had come up to her, and easily snatched the rifle from her hands. She remained standing very close to the woman, enjoying taking in the scent of her.

"What a pretty woman you are." Bailey murmured, her voice soft.

* * *
Available as an e-book at Amazon for only $2.99

Posted on Feb 12, 2012 2:35:19 PM PST
[Deleted by Amazon on Dec 29, 2014 4:52:34 PM PST]

Posted on Feb 12, 2012 2:59:45 PM PST
The Bub says:
Break Point

It's the beginning of the 1999 Wimbledon Tennis Championships. Bobbie and girlfriend, June, have avidly followed the championships together for years. But this year Bobbie and June have split up after Bobbie slept with best friend Babs. June has gone to Denmark and Bobbie gets a job caring for a difficult old woman. Soon it's not just Wimbledon where the competitive rallies, the lobs and the drop-volleys are being played, as carers fall like seeds, and only those with the deadliest return of serve and long blond hair may survive to the final.

Winner of one of the Paparazzi Sports Fiction Awards 2010

Many thanks

In reply to an earlier post on Feb 12, 2012 8:55:54 PM PST
Last edited by the author on Feb 12, 2012 9:00:26 PM PST
Set in the 1800's
Author: Helen Dunn

When Mandy McKay goes to live with her Uncle Osgood, a religious fanatic, whom she has never met, she's in for more than a few overwrought life changes on his remote farm. To start with Mandy falls in love with his wife, Julia, who is married to Uncle Osgood in name only to keep him out of the madhouse. The complications in Mandy's life have just begun, however, because next there's an interfering mixed-up country preacher-woman named Sister Roberta Morton, who is determined to save Mandy from the devil and Julia Stuart!

It was difficult, with the long, flapping skirt of her dress, her petite height, and the large book she carried, to get into the tall buckboard.

Julia realized she had no choice, so reached down and gave Mandy a hand up, glancing sourly at the black book the young woman carried.

She hadn't wanted to touch Mandy, hadn't wanted to take that small, cold hand in her own. She didn't want to feel anything. She didn't want to care. She didn't want to admit how very pretty Mandy was with her cornflower blue eyes and waif-like face. The lost, scared look in Mandy's eyes was making Julia want to gather her into her arms, keep her warm, make her feel safe, and take away the fear expressed in the white, pinched face.

Julia didn't have to use much guess work to how that would make her feel. No! She wasn't going to let herself feel anything for this Bible-toting stray, who had turned up on her doorstep! But, it happened. She could feel it happening as she took Mandy's hand in her own, the moment she touched her and helped her onto the wagon seat beside her. Did Mandy feel it too? Was Mandy as lonely as she was? From what little Osgood had conveyed, Mandy was completely alone in the world. The fact she had come so far to an uncle she didn't even know said as much, Julia reflected.

In her nervousness and anxiety, Mandy had forgotten her one small suitcase. Now it sat forlornly on the platform and she felt too intimidated to say anything to this austere woman seated beside her. If they drove off and left it, it wouldn't mean much of a loss, she supposed, other than the fact it was all she had in the world.

Julia gave a sigh, got down from the buckboard and went over and picked up the small brown suitcase. She was surprised by how light it was. She wondered for a moment if the girl actually had anything in the bag or had merely brought it with her for the looks of the thing, not wanting to be seen traveling without any luggage.

Julia purposely kept her voice low, almost gruff sounding, as she spoke: "Anything else coming?"

"No ma'am." Mandy answered, almost whispering the words. The blue eyes lifted momentarily, met Julia's dark ones, then returned shyly to her lap where she held the big, black Bible.

Julia made no further comment as she set the suitcase into the back of the buckboard and got up onto the seat beside Mandy. She could feel the younger woman shivering beside her. The coat she wore looked threadbare.

Silently Julia reached behind her for the heavy, rose-colored blanket that lay in the wagon bed. She had wrapped it about herself during the drive into Groversville. She handed it to Mandy, but the weight and size of the blanket, combined with the large, clumsy Bible she held, caused Mandy to have considerable trouble getting it about her. Julia found it necessary to pull it together in the front, beneath Mandy's chin.

The natural pink of Mandy's soft lips engrossed Julia and she stared for a moment. Then their eyes met again and Julia could see the gratefulness in Mandy's. For a moment Julia thought she wasn't going to be able to let go of the blanket or keep from kissing Mandy.

A loud thump brought her back to reality. The Bible Mandy had been carrying had slipped from her lap onto the wooden floor of the wagon.

Julia bent and retrieved it, handing into the small, white hand that emerged from the rose colored blanket.

"It was my mother's." Mandy said, as if she felt she needed to offer some explanation.

"I saw some church spires as I came in." Mandy said timidly. "Which one do you and Uncle Osgood go to?"

"I don't hold with churching." Julia said shortly. Picking up the reins, she clicked her tongue to the team and without further words passing between them; they rode out to the farm.
* * *

This novella is available as a separate e-book only at amazon. It is also available with two other novellas in the anthology "Love in Times Gone By" as an e-book at and in a print edition of the anthology at createspace. Please check URLs given below:
Love and Damnation

Love in times gone by

Posted on Feb 16, 2012 4:21:18 AM PST
[Deleted by Amazon on Dec 29, 2014 4:52:39 PM PST]

Posted on Feb 16, 2012 4:35:02 AM PST
[Deleted by Amazon on Dec 29, 2014 4:52:48 PM PST]

Posted on Feb 16, 2012 1:59:24 PM PST
Last edited by the author on Feb 16, 2012 2:01:38 PM PST
Heart of the Southland

Author: Helen Dunn

African American heroine, plantation, historical, Civil War, paranormal, interracial romance

Heart of the Southland is a romantic, lesbian drama with strong supernatural overtones in a southern, historical setting, taking place on a plantation, during the Civil War.

Eighteen year old Gabrielle Burnett is completely alone, or so she thinks, on East Wind Plantation in Arkansas. Her father and four older brothers have all been killed in the Civil War, her mother has recently died, and all the slaves have left. Although deeply frightened, Gabrielle elects to stay put.

Unknown to Gabrielle, a run-away slave called Bronze, disguised as a man, has been hiding at East Wind. Bronze's former owner, Cerise Piper is losing her mind in her crumbling New Orleans mansion over the loss of her lover and slave and decides her only option is to ride north and find Bronze. Bronze has likewise been searching for her first love, a slave named Sophie.

Noiselessly Gabrielle dislodged the chair from beneath the knob, and moved it away from the bedroom door. The latch made a small click as she unlocked the door and stealthily eased it open.

She stepped out onto the landing. The floor felt cool beneath her bare feet. A breeze from the opened double doors below filtered up the stairway, ruffling her hair, moving the hem of the thin linen gown against her ankles.

Moonlight streamed in through the tall, east windows and she could see the dark bulk of the man moving about below her. As he stepped fully into an area where the moonlight was, she noted two things - one that he staggered as if from too much drink, and secondly that he wore the uniform of a Yankee soldier.

She pulled back the hammer on the gun. The slight noise it made, in the silence of the house, caused him to look up. Their eyes locked. A mixture of fear and loathing went through her.

"Get out of my house, you Yankee scum!"

"Awww now, you wouldn't shoot me, would you little lady?" He slurred, coming over to the foot of the stairs. He placed a hand on the rounded knob of the newel post.

"Stay where you are," she warned, "or I'll shoot!"

"You just here by yourself?" He asked, guessing that she was. No other way a southern woman would be standing there alone holding a weapon. "Where's your man, honey?"

He placed a booted foot on the lowest step of the stairway. "Must be a mite lonesome for you just being here by yourself and all?"

She was a pretty thing, he thought, gazing up at her. Southern women were generally pretty, all soft and delicate. He liked the look of her, with the hint of womanliness beneath the billowing white linen of her nightgown.

She felt the butt of the gun slam back in her hand, saw the flash as it fired, and felt momentarily deafened by the retort. Both man and woman stood temporarily frozen. Tack was the first to move when he realized he hadn't been hit. He covered the distance between them quickly, taking the stairs two at a time. He reached out and grabbed the arm that was holding the gun, before she could re-cock the hammer.

They wrestled on the landing, then fell, tumbling together down the steps. The gun went flying over the railing and was temporarily lost for both combatants.

As they landed at the bottom of the stairs, Gabrielle was pinned beneath the Yankee.

"Well, well, well, here we are." He laughed.

His whiskey scented breath was in her face, making her gag. She struggled, but her efforts were futile against his weight and strength.

His hand was on her leg and the touch made her skin crawl.

Suddenly the soldier made a strange gurgling sound, and the front of his throat split open leaving Gabrielle awash in his blood.

He collapsed on top of her, a limp, unmoving, dead weight. Then he was kicked, the boot against his side sent him rolling from her.

Gabrielle stared up at a young, dark, ferocious face.

"Are you all right?" her rescuer asked.

"I think so." She answered, not at all certain.

The stranger held a hand down to her, Gabrielle took it. The grip was firm, the hand pleasantly warm.

"I'll light a lamp." Gabrielle said, ever practical. She went to where the large green lamp with its tall glass chimney set, took it down, and locating the matches near it, removed the chimney and held the match to the linen-netted wick until it produced a suitable flame. She carefully replaced the chimney and adjusted the wick so the flame would give them adequate light without smoking the interior of the chimney.

She crossed the floor to where the stranger stood and held up the lamp. If the person had not just rescued her, Gabrielle realized she might have felt as frightened as she had previously.

"I am Gabrielle Burnett," she said, "and this is my home, East Wind."

"They call me Bronze." the stranger told her in a low, throaty voice. "Don't be afraid, I'm a woman."

Like to read more?

The novella Heart of the Southland is available at amazon as a separate e-story as well as being one of three novellas from the lesbian historical fiction anthology "Love in Times Gone By".
Heart of the Southland

For the anthology, Love in Times Gone By containing this story and two other novellas please click on the URL given below:
Love in times gone by

Love in Times Gone By is also available in print edition at Createspace:

In reply to an earlier post on Mar 8, 2012 9:24:28 PM PST

Author: Helen Dunn
gay & lesbian historical novel/horror/demons

Blurb: Clarice Hart, hired as a governess, arrives at the ominous estate of NIGHTWOOD, where she confronts one eerie incident after another - from a strange erotic meeting she witnesses between two male servants on the night of her arrival, to a shocking death and madness.

She is intrigued by a brooding woman she sees walking the cliffs by the sea and becomes privy to a bizarre secret hidden in one of the towers of the immense house. It seems as if almost all the residents of NIGHTWOOD carry a terrible darkness within them.

With each step she takes, Clarice draws nearer to not only the answers to NIGHTWOOD'S sinister mysteries but into an intricate plan controlled by an ancient, supernatural evil.


"I think evil exists at Nightwood." Velvet pronounced.

"There are certainly some things I don't understand at Nightwood." Clarice said. Perhaps that was what Velvet meant?

Velvet's gaze returned to her. "What things do you understand, Clarice?"

Clarice felt a stab of uncertainty. She really did not know Velvet very well at all, she reminded herself, despite their encounters these past few weeks, and an exchange of kisses, plus she had given Nerissa her word. Yet the matter had continually gnawed at her.

"I..." Clarice paused. "I think there is someone in the tower room in the west wing." She spoke hurriedly, anxious to get it said and done with.

As Velvet said nothing, Clarice found herself continuing: "I, well, I've seen Mrs. Ladley taking food trays into the west wing... and..." Clarice cleared her throat. "I know it is none of my concern, of course... but I..." She stopped speaking.

"My quarters are in the west wing." Velvet said.

Now she must retreat or further tell what she knew, Clarice realized. "I, well, I followed Mrs. Ladley when I saw her going into the west wing, since it was my understanding it wasn't in use, and I saw her enter the door leading up into the tower, is that where your quarters are?" She asked, knowing full well they were not.

"No." Velvet said, looking steadily at Clarice. "Why do I feel you have more to tell me, my little governess?" There was a faint smile of amusement.

She might as well confess, Clarice thought.

"Very well. I saw Mrs. Ladley take a key and open the door that leads up into the west tower, so I waited until she returned again and left the west wing, and then I took the key and unlocked the tower door."

"And you went up into the tower? That was very brave of you or perhaps foolhardy, considering you did not know who or what you would find there." Velvet remarked.

"I think you know who I found there." Clarice fixed an unblinking gaze on her companion.

* * *

Learn more of the secrets and mysteries of the evil that encases Nightwood

* * *
Available on Amazon's Kindle: Nightwood

Also available in print edition at Createspace:

Posted on Mar 9, 2012 2:45:19 AM PST
[Deleted by the author on May 5, 2012 2:26:17 PM PDT]

Posted on Mar 16, 2012 2:00:43 PM PDT
Death Master

Her head was yanked back by the hair as a large, tanned hand moved menacingly down her throat. Her sobs flecked his shirt with tears, which now flowed freely, their salty water aggravating the wounds accumulated on her naked flesh over the endless days she had been held captive. The end must be near now and she was so sure that it must end. She tried in vain one last time to wrench free her hands, but the bindings held firm. Knees, so long on the floor, would not have held her up anyway - had she tried to run. He was calm; she was wretched. Instinctively, she pulled her thighs to her abdomen to protect her unborn child. His hands tightened, her eyes widened - pleading. His pressure did not relent and slowly everything faded...

After months of mental and physical therapy, Yvonne Giles, an Oxford DI, is back at work and that's just how she likes it. So when she is asked to hunt the serial killer responsible for taking apart young women, the DI jumps at the chance but hides the fact that she is suffering debilitating flashbacks. The victims appear to meet their murderer willingly, telling their families they're going on vacation. No one sees them again until their macabre death scenes. A quirk of the killer's signature is the food and wine stains he leaves on the backs of the girls.
Yvonne is told to work with Tasha Phillips, an in-her-face, criminal psychologist. The DI's previous experience of working with a profiler involved having a case thrown out by the Crown Prosecution Service for reasons of entrapment. She's not enamoured with the idea of working with one again. Tasha has a lot to prove. The DI has a lot to get over.
A tentative link with a 20 year-old cold case brings her closer to the truth but events then take a frighteningly personal turn..

Posted on Mar 26, 2012 2:56:48 PM PDT
The Bub says:
Anyone for tennis?

Break Point

It's the beginning of the 1999 Wimbledon Tennis Championships. Bobbie and girlfriend, June, have avidly followed the championships together for years. But this year Bobbie and June have split up after Bobbie slept with best friend Babs. June has gone to Denmark and Bobbie gets a job caring for a difficult old woman. Soon it's not just Wimbledon where the competitive rallies, the lobs and the drop-volleys are being played, as carers fall like seeds, and only those with the deadliest return of serve and long blond hair may survive to the final.

Winner of one of the Paparazzi Sports Fiction Awards 2010

In reply to an earlier post on Mar 26, 2012 7:48:47 PM PDT
Last edited by the author on Mar 26, 2012 7:52:24 PM PDT
Nightmare at the end of the Road

Horror fiction with doses of macabre humor

Author: Helen Dunn

Blurb: Long intrigued by a rutted country road that winds back into the woods, Wendy Stanton gets to know the horrors that exist at the end of that road when she meets the crazed, cannibalistic inbreeds of the Dixon family. Anyone who trespasses on their land usually isn't seen again!

There's Arlen Dixon the head of the clan, Luraleen the blind matriarch, the sub-human T.J., and the strange, secretive girl named Fern, who may have more mysterious powers than any of them.

The new Deputy Sheriff Callie Wingate, an outsider to Dixonville, is alarmed by the stories she hears about the Dixons, while at the same time she is fascinated by the beautiful, unusual Fern Dixon. As she tries to unravel the disappearance of Wendy Stanton, Callie gets to know the Dixons better than she ever wanted.

Excerpt mid-way in Chapter 1:

Sweet Mother of God! She was hyperventilating as she ran down the stairs. Fear gripped her as she had never before experienced it and she could feel perspiration running down her sides and the pounding of her heart gone wild. She ran terrified through the living room and kitchen, across the planks of the porch, past the old washing machine - almost colliding with it - before pushing open the screen door.

She didn't pause as her feet hit the dirt driveway but ran with her panting gasps echoing in her ears. Her heavy breathing and her feet thumping on the hard ground were the only sounds she heard as she headed back to the ruined road. Her one goal was to reach her car and drive away as quickly as she possibly could.

She reached the rutted road and headed down the hill that led up to the house as fast as she could manage on the uneven surface. As she rounded the first bend, however, she was brought to a sudden halt by the sight of an old woman standing in the middle of the road.

"And just where might you be off to so fast and sudden, dearie?" The old woman cackled. "Through looking at my house already are you?"

Wendy tried to gather her wits. She surely was not going to allow some old woman to scare her and she sure as heck wasn't going to let this woman keep her from leaving, she told herself.

Over to the right, behind the old woman, she saw a dark shape moving in the woods. The old woman observed where Wendy's eyes shifted. "That'll be T.J." She told her. "He won't hurt ya' none, less I give him the sign."

She could not tell just how old the woman was, she could have been anywhere in age from her fifties to her seventies. She had gray hair that frizzled out thinly around her head and her face was a mass of wrinkled, sallow skin. She was slovenly dressed in a dirty looking housedress of a pale brown color with some kind of tiny, faded, purple flowers on it. A stained apron was tied around her waist and scruffy, tannish-colored houseshoes that had soiled fleece around the tops, were on her feet.

"Oh, you're a pretty one, you are." The old woman remarked, cocking her head on one side.

Wendy, clad in a T-shirt and blue jeans, was indeed a very attractive woman in her early 20s of average height and build, dark blonde hair touched the tops of her shoulders and her features were well shaped, although at the moment her blue eyes were wide with fear.

It was at that moment, that Wendy noticed the old woman's eyes, which she had thought to be rather narrow, were entirely shut.

"Oh, you've noticed my eyes have you, girl?" The old woman cackled. "How do you like them now!?" She exclaimed and opened them very wide. The sockets were pink and empty with tiny, red veins running through the flesh. The old woman laughed. "But how can I see you?" She tapped the center of her forehead. "I can see you quite well, dearie, with my third eye.

"You're not from around here are you? You don't know who I am, do you, girlie?" The old woman asked, placing her hands on her wide hips and cocking her head again to one side. "Well, I'm Luraleen Dixon. Some folks in these parts think I'm sort of a legend." She cackled. "We Dixon's own all the land hereabouts." She lifted an arm and stretched it out in indication. "And don't nobody trespass on our land."

"I - I'm sorry." Wendy stammered. "I didn't know anybody lived there. It was...was... just such an intriguing road and then I saw the house and...I never saw a house so grand."

"It is a fine house." Luraleen agreed, nodding her head. "It was built by Joseph Dixon. He's the first of the Dixons to come here and we'uns has been here ever since.

"You didn't have no right a goin' in mah house." Her voice took on a whining tone of resentment.

"You're right." Wendy said carefully inching towards the left and wondering if she might be able to dash past the old woman that way. "I shouldn't have done that and I'm very sorry. I won't ever come again and bother you."

Luraleen gave a high pitched laugh that made Wendy shiver. "No, you won't." She agreed.

Wendy made a sudden move to run past the old woman and as she did so, Luraleen gave a shrill, high pitched whistle through her front teeth. Suddenly the bushes to the right parted and someone or something came rushing forward. It moved clumsily, yet quickly for all that.

Wendy screamed as two long arms came around her and she was forced to the ground.

"Good boy, T.J.! That's my good boy." Luraleen grinned. She came over to where he held the girl down and patted the dark, matted hair.

"T.J. done good." He spoke in a low, rasping voice as if forming words was somewhat difficult for him.

Wendy stared up in horror at the face hovering over her own and screamed yet again.
His mouth was open displaying short, wide, sharply pointed teeth that were spaced too far apart; likewise, they were somewhat stained, and from his breath, she was quite certain brushing and flossing wasn't on his agenda. The lips were a thick rubbery pink color and they were presently stretched out in imitation of a smile.

The nose was virtually non-existent, consisting of no more than two dark holes, and the large, bulging eyes were of two different sizes with one eye slightly higher up on the head than the other. His hair was dark and shaggy hanging down about his shoulders.
The upper part of his torso was bare and covered with a rather thick layer of coarse hair. From the waist down he was clad in a pair of faded blue jeans and dark leather boots were on his feet.

* * *
Like to read more? "Nightmare at the end of the Road" by Helen Dunn is available as an e-book only at amazon

Also available in print edition:

Visit the author's blog to see all of the book covers, blurbs and excerpts as well as URLs that will take you to Amazon where you may purchase the e-book - or if you prefer a print edition - many of the books are in print and can be obtained at create space - and a URL is given for that as well.

Helen Dunn - is also the author of "Untamed Women of Yesteryear" published by L-Books - which received honorable mention by Golden Crown Literary Society, as well as being nominated for Favorite Lesbian Fiction Historical - by the Lesbian Fiction Readers Choice Awards group.

In reply to an earlier post on Apr 5, 2012 6:51:35 PM PDT
Last edited by the author on Apr 5, 2012 6:54:27 PM PDT
author: Helen Dunn
Set in 1925

Bullets, Booze, and Love!

The story revolves around independent, tough, young mountain woman, Bailey Skinner, a bootlegger, who is falling for pretty widow, Minnie Givens, who doesn't approve of "the devil's brew".

Bailey, her pit bull named Moonshine, and her partner, Little Jack - who may be small in size but big in courage - are also dealing with a crooked Sheriff, and shoot-outs with rival bootleggers.

New Excerpt:

Leaving Simperton in charge of the still, with the hope he would stay there - a cot was provided for whoever was on night guard - Bailey climbed behind the wheel of the paneled truck.

Her pit bull, Moonshine, at least could be counted on, she assured herself.

Little Jack boosted himself up, using his free hand to clamber into the truck, a rifle in the other. Bailey had rigged him up a higher seat level and the little man was able to sit on the passenger side and easily see out the front windshield as well as the rolled down window opening to his right.

"Ready?" Bailey asked glancing his way, as she slammed her door shut.

Little Jack, as usual, gave her a big, toothy grin, hitting the butt of his rifle on the lower seat level beside him, as he replied: "Let's get a wiggle on."

Bailey laughed as she started the motor and put the truck in gear.

The road they were taking had previously been used by mules to drag logs out, back when lumbering had been a big industry in the area. It was rough, and primitive, and it took some skill to maneuver down the steep, winding, narrow trail.

The sun would most likely be down by the time they reached the end of the logging road and came onto the regular gravel road, so they needed to make as much time as they could. In addition to the deep ruts and unevenness of the old logging road, it was badly over-grown, limbs scraped against the fenders and running boards on each side of the truck, as she drove.

"Think Simp can keep his ass at the still tonight?" Bailey asked, voicing her thoughts.

"Wouldn't want to bet on it." Little Jack replied. "And you know I'm a gamblin' man." He added with grin.

"Game going on tonight, Little Jack?"

"I figure there will be later on." He said with another grin that betrayed his eagerness. He knew Bailey would give him his cut of the dough after the delivery - so he would have plenty of scratch with which to gamble. "I'd have a bigger stake if that dad-blasted Leroy Runnell didn't want such a big cut." He grumbled, referring to the Sheriff of Haverton and the surrounding area.

"Yeah, he's gotten greedier as time goes on." Bailey agreed.

"Dog fights earlier tonight." Little Jack told her. "The ones what win their bets there, will be looking to lose the money later. I'll be glad to help 'em get rid of those winnings."

Cockfighting and dog fighting, which were popular in the area but heartily condemned by both Bailey and Little Jack, had led to more than a few fist fights whenever either of them publicly expressed their opinion on the matter.

They both knew what a temptation the dog fights would be for Simp.

"What ya' gonna do if Simp don't keep his ass at the still?" Jack asked, voicing their previous concern.

"He'd better, or I'm firing him." Bailey had had just about enough of Simperton Wardrum's attitude, which she knew it was primarily because he didn't like working for a woman.

The two rode in silence for a while, then Bailey spoke again.

"You gonna see that French woman, Lucille Fontaine, while you're in town? You've been keeping company with her for awhile now." her voice held a light teasing quality.

"Well, she did tell me she was makin' a strawberry pie special for me." Little Jack said. "She's been wantin' me to make an honest woman of her." He added.

"So are you?" Bailey asked.

"I been thinkin' on it, but you know I've done been married twice, maybe it's time I quit."

"Third time's the charm, so they say."

"I don't know." Little Jack said, shaking his head. "She's got quite a temper on her, sometimes."

"Only for your own good." Bailey teased.

"How 'bout yourself, Bailey? When you gonna get you a good woman?" Little Jack had long been aware that Bailey had an eye for the ladies, not the gents.

"Not so easy finding my kind." Bailey told him.

"Yeah, I reckon that's true." Little Jack acknowledged. "What about that Minnie Givens?"

"Aw, hell, Little Jack, she's a widow, probably out scouting for her next husband."

"She's a pretty little thing though." Little Jack commented, having seen the woman a few times in town.

"I got to admit she is." Bailey concurred.

Suddenly something caught Bailey's attention. "What's that up ahead there?" She asked. "Looks like something's across the road."

She tensed behind the wheel, and Little Jack leaned forward, peering intently.

"Log." He said. "A big one."

As they approached, it was plain the tree had been cut and purposely placed across the road.

Bailey knew it had to be an ambush, and she didn't have to do much guessing as to who was responsible - The Sharp Brothers - rival bootleggers!

"Hang on!" Bailey yelled. "We're taking a detour!" As she spoke, she pressed in on the clutch, switched gears, and floored the accelerator.

The truck leaped forward. At the same time, she whipped the steering wheel hard to the right, and they left the primitive logging road and went bumping wildly through the brush for several yards, skirting around the obstruction in the road. As they did so, gunshots rang out from where Landrus and Everett Sharp were hidden by the rocks and bushes.

* * *

Available as an e-book at Amazon for only $3.99

Posted on Apr 7, 2012 5:16:54 AM PDT
Catch a Succubus

.99 cents

Daniel has just turned seventeen but he still hasn't hit puberty. He is only five feet tall, no body hair and pudgy. He and his buddy, Jimmy, have one last game on the Ouija Board before he moves away to an odd country house owned by a new stepfather.

Daniel's mother Kelli, has married Duncan Osborne , a high school football coach who has taken an interest in his overly indulged new stepson.

Daniel despises his new "xxxx-for-brains" stepfather, mentally accusing him of abuse.

One night Daniel awakens to someone in his room and is propelled into a fast pace sexual paranormal escapade, accelerating him into puberty.

His friend Jimmy comes to spend a few days with him and they soon get caught up in the most confusing adventure either one of them could have imagined.

Posted on Apr 18, 2012 5:27:20 PM PDT

By Sassy Sweet

[lesbian historical fiction/African American]

Honoura Norlet, a young French woman and her maid and lover, Estelle Chenard, are apprehensive about their future in America regarding Honoura's arranged marriage with much older plantation owner, Henri Thorbeau.

Their greatest challenge, however, turns out not to be Honoura's husband, but a beautiful slave woman called Blossom.

There is also Alexandria, the mysterious daughter of Henri Thorbeau - who has apparently been banished from Sweet Land plantation.

It all plays out in an ante bellum setting in the old south.
Violence level: mild
Foul language: virtually none
Erotic level: explicit - but the excerpt is rated: G

Chapter 2

Sweet Land! The white sign on the archway over the drive that led up to the house proclaimed its name in strong, proud letters.

Certainly it was a house of which to be proud, Estelle silently acknowledged as she looked past the curtained window of the black coach.

"Magnifique is she not?" Henri Thorbeau exclaimed. His voice was somewhat hoarse, and his full cheeks and jowls looked flushed, whereas earlier in the day they had seemed almost too pasty white.

He cleared his throat loudly and spat discreetly into a white handkerchief, turning his head aside to do so.

"Yes, it's very beautiful." Honoura agreed from her side of the coach.

Honoura and her servant, Estelle, sat together on the small seat with Henri occupying most of the seat opposite. In the thick folds of their overlapping skirts, Honoura secretly pressed Estelle's hand. Thank God Estelle was here with her, she thought, her throat going dry as she glanced at the man opposite her - the man - who tomorrow, would be her husband.

The house was made of heavy Oak timbers, a full two stories with large verandas running across the front of both the upper and lower levels. The sides of the house seemed to stretch on forever and Honoura estimated there must be at least eight or more large rooms on both the top and bottom portions of the house.

A sweeping lawn of rich, green grass generously dotted with flower beds existed on all sides of the house.

As the carriage came to a stop in front of the steps leading up to the porch, a number of people came pouring forward both from inside and outside of the house to greet their arrival.

From the manner of their dress and the color of their skin, the two women realized they must be slaves. Neither had ever seen Negroes before arriving in America and so many in this large a number was quite a sight indeed.

Some were as black as India ink, others had yellow-tan skin as if they were Chinese or some other Asian and still others were creamy browns like coffee with various amounts of cream in it.

"Look at all the different shades of color they are." Honoura remarked in surprise. "Why is that?" She asked Henri.

Henri looked flustered and seemed momentarily at a loss for words then he replied: "They're originated from so many different African tribes, my dear."

Something in his manner of reply made Estelle wonder if there were some other reason.

The coach halted and Henri climbed down clumsily, assisted by the strong arm of one of his black footmen. A young Negro boy, no more than five or six had run forward with a box which he leaped upon at the horses' heads in order to seize their bridles, thus freeing up the footman for his much needed task.

Henri had climbed down first in order to then give a hand to Honoura to help her down and he did likewise with Estelle, although neither woman really needed any assistance.

To Estelle's surprise and immense pleasure, Honoura had upped her station and introduced her to Henri upon their arrival, not as her maid but as her companion, which was why Henri had given her his hand in helping her from the coach.

Two stout young Negro men rushed forward to quickly begin the task of hauling trunks and baggage down from the top of the coach and transfer it into the house.

"Careful with those!" Henri cautioned them. "I don't want any of Mademoiselle Honoura and Mademoiselle Estelle's things broken."

"Yas suh, Massa." They replied in unison.

Neither looked up as they spoke, keeping their heads bowed and their eyes lowered.

The rest of the servants formed a quiet line on each side of the steps as Henri and his two female companions approached.

As he introduced each slave in turn, naming that one's skills or commenting upon this one's personality traits, each slave bowed or curtsied, sometimes with a smile, and occasionally with a self-conscious giggle that escaped behind fingers that were held over ample lips.

The most important slaves on the plantation were those who worked in the house the French women quickly learned, as they were introduced to: Mammy Calley - a plump, beaming, light-skinned woman in her early sixties along with a tall, lean woman in her early forties Henri referred to as Aunt Middie, who was yellow skinned with light brown hair and eyes.

Calley and Middie, Henri explained were mother and daughter. Aunt Middie was the plantation cook and Mammy Calley had been caregiver to himself and later his daughter Alexandria, by his first marriage.

"Mammy Calley and her family have always been with us here at Sweet Land." Henri explained. His tone and glance held a certain affection for the two slaves. "Mammy nursed my wife, Luisa, through her last illness. I don't know what we'd do without Mammy Calley and Uncle Bob." Henri said, motioning towards his coachman, now standing by Calley's side.

The slave couple were obviously pleased by the attention. Mammy stood shuffling her feet a bit while Uncle Bob's face was a broad, toothless grin.

Honoura and Estelle were a bit surprised at the obvious fondness between master and slave as well as the terms Mammy, Aunt and Uncle. It was as if they were members of the family.

Certainly they had much to learn about this new country to which they had come, Honoura thought.

While all the slaves were subtly checking out their new mistress and her companion, one young slave woman in particular caught Honoura's eye.

She was exceptionally beautiful and, Honoura noted with interest, had gray eyes as well as the lightest skin of any of the slaves present. Her hair, too, lacked the tight curls she had noted on the others and hung down, quite long, heavy with waves, a rich, velvet brown.

"And what is your name, girl?" Honoura asked her, stepping up to where she stood.

"Blossom, Ma'am." She replied. She dipped her head slightly, looking up at Honoura through her thick lashes. With the dip of her head had come a clever little curtsy and a smile that revealed well shaped, white teeth.

"Blossom is Aunt Middie's daughter." Henri supplied.

At the mention of the word daughter, Honoura recalled that Henri had a daughter by his first wife. Since she had not met Alexandria, Honoura assumed she was away from the plantation at the present time.

'"Will I be meeting Alexandria before the wedding?" She inquired.

"Alexandria will not be attending the wedding." Henri replied brusquely. His wintery countenance made Honoura decide against further inquiry.

Estelle was puzzling over questions of her own. Had something subtle passed between Honoura and Blossom? What was that about? Estelle wondered, then quickly reprimanded herself. It was about nothing, of course.

Available as an e-book at Amazon

Posted on Apr 20, 2012 2:43:42 PM PDT
The Bub says:
It may be all April showers at the moment but just think in a few weeks time it will be Wimbledon (and ergo more showers!) To put you in the mood:

Break Point

It's the beginning of the 1999 Wimbledon Tennis Championships. Bobbie and girlfriend, June, have avidly followed the championships together for years. But this year Bobbie and June have split up after Bobbie slept with best friend Babs. June has gone to Denmark and Bobbie gets a job caring for a difficult old woman. Soon it's not just Wimbledon where the competitive rallies, the lobs and the drop-volleys are being played, as carers fall like seeds, and only those with the deadliest return of serve and long blond hair may survive to the final.

Winner of one of the Paparazzi Sports Fiction Awards 2010

Posted on Apr 27, 2012 7:21:10 PM PDT
Shixah says:
Here's a darling new romance for gay young adults, first time sex included.

Posted on Apr 28, 2012 8:50:42 AM PDT
[Deleted by the author on May 2, 2012 6:00:07 AM PDT]
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