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It’s OUT! June 2, 2012

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in circlet, Release date, upcoming work.
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Well, that’s a surprise! Although, given that this is a Trickster book, I shouldn’t be surprised at anything, I guess.

Like a Cunning Plan is now available for sale on Amazon!

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Release Date! June 1, 2012

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in circlet, cover art, Release date, short story, SQUEEE, upcoming books.
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I have been given a release date for Like a Cunning Plan, which includes my story Fools Rush In. That book will drop on the Circlet website (and at fine etailers everywhere — I hope), on JUNE 19th!!!

I like Fools Rush In — the main character sounds, in my head, like Bruce Campbell.

I’ll have the cover art up soon as a get a copy of the file. (For some reason, the first time I saw the cover was when I got the review copies in my email today. BTW, anyone want to review this?)

Post novel ennui April 17, 2012

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in 2012 plans, circlet, Drum Mage, Heart's Master, post novel ennui, Ta-da.
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Last week, I sent the manuscript for Heart’s Master in to Circlet. That makes my third complete novel in just over a year and a half.

And now my brain is feeling it.

I have that whole laundry list of things to work on, and I cannot settle on ANY of them. I started to work on The Willow Sword, and that went exactly nowhere. So I went to work on the synopsis for Holy Orders, which will be the NEXT Drum Mage book. Got halfway and stalled out. Had a new idea pop into my head while putting together a short piece for an anthology call. But I don’t know what happens there yet, and the Muse is apparently on strike. The creative mind had dried up.

Now, I knew this could happen. I knew I was probably overdue for it. Elizabeth Bear talks about post novel ennui (which is actually a scientifically proven phenomenon!) But I’m not used to being idle — not after a year and a half!

So, I’m trying something new. I’m taking a few days to just be. I might do some research. I have reading to do for contest judging. I have a hat on the needle for a friend undergoing chemo. I’ve been wanting to hit the Morse Museum and see the Tiffany wing. And I have a lunch date for Thursday.

The one thing  I’m not going to Do? Force words — if I do, they will more than likely be crap. Time to be gentle to the writer.

It’s official! I made the cut! April 12, 2012

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in circlet, contest, Good news, happy-happy- joy- joy, heady praise, SQUEEE, yippee.
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Circlet Press released the titles of the nineteen stories that made the cut for the upcoming FANTASTIC EROTICA: The Best of Circlet Press 2008-2012.

A Vision In X-Ray And Visible Light by Nobilis Reed
A Woman of Uncommon Accomplishment by Elizabeth Reeve
At The Crossroads by Monique Poirier
Catch And Release by Sunny Moraine
Devil’s Masquerade by Michael M. Jones
Enslaved by Kierstin Cherry
Fences by David Hubbard
Ink by Bernie Mojzes
Lawman by Angela Caperton
Mirror by Clarice Clique
Navigator by Kathleen Tudor
Ota Discovers Fire by Vinnie Tesla
Rescue Wounds by Kal Cobalt
The Beauty of Broken Glass by Frances Selkirk
The Dancer’s War by N.K. Jemisin
The Many Little Deaths of Cicilia Long by Shanna Germain
The Pirate From The Sky by Sacchi Green
The Succubus by Elizabeth Schechter
Wood by David Sklar

I am so pleased and proud to be a part of this elite group!  Thank you all for voting!

(I just realized I’m sharing a TOC with a Hugo Nominee!!! How cool is THAT???)

Excerpt: The Succubus (NSFW) February 18, 2012

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in Best_of_Poll, circlet.
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I realize that not a lot of people might know the stories of mine that are up on the Best of Circlet Digital Library poll. So, in the interest of informed voting, have an excerpt. This is from The Succubus, which appeared in the anthology Like Clockwork. IT IS NOT WORK SAFE!

****

The fourth floor is usually quiet, with only the hum of machinery and the distant voices from the floors below. The men do not return to the fourth floor after their initial encounter with me. They desire something more familiar, more in keeping with their personal fantasies. More safe. So I wait, alone, and the silent servants tend to my needs. This evening will be different. I know it already. I can hear Madame’s familiar step on the stair, and another, heavier step with her.

She enters first, the train of her evening gown sweeping the floor as she moves to the table and lights the lamp. The man lingers in the door, peering into the gloom. He wears pristine evening dress, and the lamplight picking out the gold links in his watch-chain and the gleam of the ruby on his left hand. The walls have already whispered his secrets to me: the second son of a Duke, one who was never expected to take the reins of power. One who came, all unexpected, into an inheritance that was never meant to be his. His older brother was dead of typhoid, gone without a son to succeed him, and so the younger son was now Earl Hathaway. It was no surprise to us that the late, lamented Reginald Warwick, Earl Hathaway had died without issue―he had also borne the collar and lock in this house, and had shown a definite preference for the third floor. It will be interesting to see what the new Lord Hathaway prefers. His name, the walls have told me, is Nigel.

“You can come in,” Madame says. “She won’t bite you.” She laughs, and leaves the lamp to go to the far wall, and the switches there. She throws them, one at the time, and light floods the room.

I hear him gasp, and I know what he sees. The ceilings in this room are high, and although they try to hide it with draperies, you can still see the machines that tower overhead, disappearing into the shadows above the lights. The machines hum and churn, gears half the size of a man moving in the eternal dance that gives me life. Occasionally they release puffs of fragrant steam into the air, making the entire room warmer than would normally be considered comfortable. There is very little furniture in the room, most of it covered with drapery against dust and future need. And then there is me. Shining silver and chrome, gleaming brass and copper, I lie in wait, reclined on the wide couch as might a goddess whilst she awaited her worshipers.

“But… it’s clockwork!” he blurts out, stepping into the room. He looks around, expecting to see a living woman. But, of course, there is no one else in the room.

Madame sniffs slightly, “Of course she is. I did explain that to you, did I not?”

Lord Hathaway has the grace to look embarrassed, “You did, but… the others all look… alive. This one…” he gestures wildly.

“She was the first, created by my late husband,” Madame says, walking over to my couch. She brushes her nails over my shoulder and continues, “The others came later, and I refined the forms to make them more… approachable. Despite her form, the Succubus is the most complex of all the automatons.”

“How can that be? It looks like a statue!” He takes a step toward the couch and points at me. “It is a statue!”

Madame runs her fingers over my gleaming silver skull, “Oh, this is just the focal point, Your Lordship. The Succubus encompasses this room.”

He looks around, his eyes wide, “The whole room?”

“The whole of this floor, actually. As I said, she is very complex.” Madame makes her way back to the wall and stands near the bell-rope. “Now, it is customary for the first appointment to be with the Succubus. Did your brother not tell you this?”

Lord Hathaway shakes his head. “All Reg told me was that I would not believe what I found here. He wouldn’t say more.” He swallows, looking nervously at the figure on the couch, and then back at Madame, “Is it safe?”

Madame laughs, “My dear sir, you’ll be as safe here as in your own mother’s arms, if that is your desire.”

He looks at her sharply, “What does that mean?”

Madame just smiles, “You’ve seen what we offer. Surely it’s no surprise to you that there are some who prefer an element of risk. Don’t you agree?”

He does, although I doubt that any would see it but me. His breathing quickens, ever so slightly. The flush in his cheeks heightens, just a touch. He looks at me again, studying me, silent. After a long moment, he turns back to Madame, “What do I have to do?”

She draws from the reticule that hangs from her wrist one of the shining silver collars, the black lock dangling from the end. She smiles at my soon-to-be paramour, “Take off your clothes.”

****

He balks, of course. They always do. Disrobe in front of a woman? Unthinkable! Even though the woman is the proprietress of the most exclusive brothel in London, they simply can’t. I think that Madame enjoys their discomfort, and that is why she does it. Eventually, she tires of his protests and rings for one of the silent servants.

“Lay your clothing there,” Madame says, and points to a chair near the door. “The servant will guard the door and make certain that you are undisturbed. And I will have a room made up for you.”

Nigel looks startled, “Will that be necessary?”

Madame smiles, “The Succubus likes to take her time.” Then she leaves, and the door closes behind her with a soft thump. Nigel stares at the door for a moment, then starts to unbutton his waistcoat, turning away from me in what must have been an automatic gesture. He has already removed his tie and unbuttoned his high collar so that Madame could lock the collar around his throat.

A voice is nothing but air through valves. I can have any voice I choose. This time, I choose a girl’s voice, light and gentle. “I can still see you,” I say softly. “You needn’t try to hide. I like to watch.”

He spins, startled, looking for the owner of the voice, “Who… Who said that?”

I answer, “I am the Succubus. And my eyes are throughout this room. So you need not try to hide from me.”

“You speak?” He starts edging towards the door.

“I do a great many things. Isn’t that why you’re here?” I pause, and he stops moving. Good. Time to begin. “Do you enjoy being frightened, Nigel?”

“No!” he says quickly. “How did you know my name?”

“I know many things about you, Nigel,” I keep my voice soft and low. “I know you seek an escape from the madness that your life has become since your brother died and you assumed his title. I know that you wish for a return to the carefree days of being the younger son. Your life has become structured, regimented. You want excitement.” In actuality, I know none of these things. I do know that he is the younger son, much younger than his brother. Younger sons are allowed some leeway in their dealings, and it is all overlooked since they will not bear the title. And… he is here. If he was looking for a mistress, he would be at the opera, or the theater. If he desired a simple coupling, a push-in-the-dark-here’s-a-farthing-never-see-the-girl-again, he would be in Whitechapel. He wants neither of these. He wants some excitement, but something that carries no risk of scandal. I can tell now that he needs something more than a simple tryst.

The chair hits him right behind the knees, and he sits down hard, the breath exploding out of him. I have him in a trice, bindings snapping closed around his legs, waist, and chest. Cables catch his wrists and pull them into position for the bindings that fix his arms to the chair. He is mine.

He struggles for a moment, opens his mouth to protest, and his breath catches when he sees the mechanical arm rising from the floor between his feet. The knife blade at the end shines in the harsh lights, the edge glittering as I move it this way and that.

“It is very sharp, I assure you,” I say. “Do not struggle.”

“What are you doing?” he whispers, looking like a bird facing a snake, his glassy eyes never leaving the blade.

I don’t answer, lowering the knife back towards the floor. I wait a moment, letting his breathing quicken, then slip the blade into the leg of his trousers, brushing against his skin before I begin cutting. His fine trousers part easily as I work my way slowly up the seam, tracing the blade lightly over the inside of his thighs as my blade travels up each leg. He moans, closing his eyes and trying oh-so-valiantly not to move or even to breathe as the blade lays his skin bare. His arms are ticklish, and he yelps as I cut away his fine silk shirt and trace the blue veins under his skin. When I am done, his skin is shining with sweat, his breathing quick and shallow. His cock, freed at last from its linen and wool prison, stands proudly like a soldier at attention.

I pitch my voice so that it seems to come from behind him, and add a puff of air so it seems to Nigel that I am whispering in his ear, “I see that you appreciate my handiwork.”

My dear Nigel’s only answer is a whimper; his eyelids flutter open, then he gasps in surprise to see the knife a scant inch from his nose. He swallows and struggles to control his need to pull away as I stroke his cheek with the knife, then move lower, tracing the pulsing vein in his throat. I prick his collarbone lightly, not even enough to raise a welt, then gently brush the blade over one of his erect nipples.

That is all it takes. Nigel wails like a girl, thrashing in his bonds while his seed splatters over his chest and legs and onto the floor. Then he goes limp, his eyes close, and his head lolls back as his chest heaves. I pull the knife arm back into the floor and consider my next move. I hadn’t expected him to spend quite that quickly. As Madame said, I like to take my time.

Excerpt: The Hand You’re Dealt (NSFW!) February 17, 2012

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in Best_of_Poll, circlet.
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I realize that not a lot of people might know the stories of mine that are up on the Best of Circlet Digital Library poll. So, in the interest of informed voting, have an excerpt. This is from The Hand You’re Dealt, which appeared in the anthology Like a Sacred Desire. IT IS NOT WORK SAFE!

*****

The house shook as the front door was shoved closed, and I heard Nick’s footsteps overhead, moving towards the stairs. The circle had gone well, and with the last of the coven gone, I knew that Nick was going to be in a mood. Circle high, he called it. I called it frisky, when I was being polite. When I wasn’t, I told him that he was a slut.

Not that I minded much. I could be a slut, too, and Nick’s moods suited me just fine. But before playtime came work; I had told Nick that I’d clean up my toys. I picked up the drum I’d used to accompany the ritual and made my way over to the wall and the cabinet that Nick had set up for storage of odd-sized ritual items. It smelled of cedar and incense as I opened it, finding the shelf by touch and sliding the flat Irish drum into its place. Behind me, I heard footsteps on the stairs, and then Nick was behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and pressing a kiss onto my shoulder.

“Everyone gone?” I asked, and felt him nod, the stubble of his late-evening beard scratching on the side of my neck.

“All gone. Just you and me now,” he nuzzled my neck. “Want to play, Styopa?”

I grinned. He knew what my answer would be, and he knew I loved the Russian diminutive of my name that he’d tagged me with back before we’d become lovers. After all, it was a hell of a lot more sophisticated than Stevie. “I’ll always play with you, Kolya. What are you up to?”

“Something… random,” he laughed, backing away. “Get yourself ready, Steven. I’ll take care of the dog and get a few things, and meet you in the playroom.”

The playroom. Oh, that kind of play. My heart sped up, and I nodded without saying a word, hearing him going back up the stairs. Nicolai was the love of my life, my sanity, the single good thing that had happened to me after the accident that had taken my sight, put metal rods in my back and leg, and ended my career as a dancer. He was also one hell of a dom, and if he wanted me on my knees, I’d be there immediately.

But he didn’t want immediate. He wanted me ready, and I knew what that meant. I also knew that it meant I’d better hurry. It didn’t take that long to feed the dog and lock up, and if I wasn’t in position when Nick got to the playroom, he’d keep right on going and head to bed.

Only one thing worried me, and that was his choice of words. Random? What was he talking about? Random and BDSM didn’t usually go together, and especially not where Nick was concerned. Every scene we’d ever done had been precise, structured and intense. Random wasn’t a word I’d ever heard Nick use.

But I wasn’t going to find out what he meant just standing here. And if I didn’t move it, I wouldn’t find out what he meant at all.

* * * *

The playroom door squeaked slightly, something that Nick was always meaning to fix and never getting around to. So I knew when he came in, and I knew what he’d see. Me, kneeling in the middle of the room, facing the door (I hoped―he still teased me about the time I’d knelt off center and had been facing the closet when he came in). I was naked, and I’d assumed the position he’d taught me―knees apart, back straight, with my hands resting easy on my thighs. I’d been hard before I’d even gotten my pants off, and the breeze caused by the opening of the door washed over my skin, raising goosebumps and making me shiver.

“Very nice,” Nick murmured, and I could hear the barest hint of the accent that he could never manage to lose, stronger now than it usually was. He really was in a mood. I heard his soft footfalls, almost-but-not-quite muffled by the thick carpet as he walked around me, trailing his fingers over my shoulders and brushing my hair out of the way.

“Very nice,” he repeated. He linked one finger through the heavy silver chain I always wore and tugged on it. I closed my eyes and took a sharp breath; he laughed and let me go.

“All right. Hold your hands out.” I did, and he dropped a pile of something slippery into my waiting palms. I grabbed them before I dropped them, feeling slick, narrow cards.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“That’s a tarot deck. I want you to think about what you want tonight while you shuffle the cards,” Nick said as he moved around. I heard cabinets opening, and knew that he was getting the toys ready. “Once you shuffle the cards, I’ll lay them out. Whatever the cards say is what I will be doing to you tonight.”

I almost dropped the cards. “Nick, I don’t know about this…”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

I nodded, “You know I do.”

“What’s your safe-word?”

“Nick, you don’t think I’m going to need….”

“Safe-word?” he repeated, his voice a little harsher, a little more stern, the accent even more pronounced, the tone edging towards strict formality. His dom voice. I ducked my head in response.

“Oatmeal,” I said quietly. I heard Nick move, and then he was kneeling in front of me, tugging on my chain again, pulling me towards him and claiming my mouth in a hard, possessive kiss that left me gasping and wanting more.

“I made a promise, Styopa,” he whispered into my ear, sliding his hands up my arms. “I promised you that I would never hurt you. If you do not like what the cards say, we will stop. We will play another way. Or not play at all. Do you understand?” I nodded, not sure I could speak at the moment, still trying to find my breath. He kissed me again, more gently, then stood up, “Good. Shuffle the cards.”

So I shuffled, trying to focus on all of the wonderful, horrible things that Nick did to me in this room. The sounds of the room became a soothing drone as I concentrated―Nick’s breathing, the hum of the fan blowing, the hiss of the rain outside, all of them harmonizing around the bass line that was my own rapid heartbeat. Finally, I held the cards up, “I’m done.”

Nick came over and took the cards from me, “Good. I’ll lay out the pattern, and then we’ll get started.”

I nodded, returning to my resting position, “May I speak?”

“Go ahead.”

“Which deck is that? That’s not the usual one, is it?” I was sure it wasn’t; as I’d handled the cards, I’d noticed that it had felt different from the deck I knew Nick used when he did readings. Not as heavy… no, that wasn’t it. The cards felt like they were the same paper-weight as Nick’s usual deck, but for some reason, they felt like they had less of something. They were… different.

When Nick answered me, I could tell my question pleased him, “One of the art ones. One that you gave me, as a matter of fact. How did you know?”

“It feels different,” I answered, letting my confusion show.

He laughed, “Of course it does, mily. My working deck is consecrated. This one isn’t. I keep telling you that you’re more sensitive to magic than you give yourself credit for, Steven. ”

I restrained the urge to snort; just because I was sleeping with a High Priest didn’t mean I believed in magic. I was a long-lapsed Roman Catholic, and didn’t give any religion any real credence any more. The extent of my participation in the coven was to play drums for them, and that was how I liked it. But I couldn’t get over how different those cards felt.

I heard the snap of the cards, “What are you doing?”

“Laying them out. Face down, so it will be a surprise for both of us. I did keep one card out. The Knight of Cauldrons. Tell me why.”

Oh, this was going to be a lesson, too? I knew the answer to this one. “That’s my card. For my age and coloring, and because I’m a musician.”

“Very good. All right, next card.” Another card snapped, and Nick snorted. “Well, that makes sense.”

“What?”

“The Devil. In this deck, it’s called Temptation. But… the meaning behind it is perfect,” Nick moved over to walk around me again, lacing his fingers into my hair and pulling my head back, making me whimper with delight and need, “Depravity. Submission. Perversion. Lust. I think that’s a very good description of what’s going to happen to you tonight, don’t you?”

I swallowed, trying not to shake from wanting him so much, “Yes, sir.”

He kissed me again. “Next card.” He moved away; I shivered and tried not to break position. I missed the snap of the card, but not Nick’s delighted laugh.

“The Emperor,” he announced.

That caught me by surprise, “That’s your card!”

“Yes. Yes, it is,” he said, still laughing. “Well, I suppose that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to think that you were going to submit to someone else tonight. Although… do you know what the meaning of this card is?”

I was caught in spite of myself, fascinated by the game he had orchestrated for us. “I don’t have a clue.”

“This card signifies the masculine force of the universe. Dominance and discipline, and at the same time, paternal. The Emperor is the universal father figure.”

I cocked my head to the side, “Did you choose the card because he was a dom or because he was a dad?”

Nick laughed. “Both. Neither. The card chose me. Now, let’s see what the next card you chose is.” Another card snapped, followed quickly by two more. Nick grunted, and then all I heard was movement. Nick walked away, and then came back towards me, standing behind me. I stayed still, and was rewarded by the slithering of a silky rope over my shoulder.

“Nine of Swords, the Six of Swords, reversed, and the Chariot, also reversed,” Nick murmured. “Hands behind your back.”

I nodded and crossed my wrists behind me; he lashed them together firmly and then drew them up, running the ropes over my shoulders and down, crossing and recrossing my chest until my arms were immobile. I could feel the ends of the rope trailing down my belly in a long tail, and I shifted slightly so that the rope swayed and slid over my cock. That felt good, but the movement earned me a sharp slap on the thigh and I fell still.

“You look very good in rope and nothing else,” Nick tugged on the ropes, checking their placement. “There’s no point in blindfolding you, mily. Except for aesthetics, that is.”

“And while we’re at it, we can take owls to Athens,” I muttered.

Nick snorted his amusement, and there was a steady tug at the center of my chest; he had gathered up the tail and was using it as a leash. “Come on.”

“Are you going to tell me what the cards mean?”

“In a minute,” he answered, pulling me along for a few steps before stopping me pushing me up against a table edge―the massage table that stood off to one side of the room. He bent me over it and pressed one hand on the back of my neck, forcing me down until my cheek was pressed against the surface and all I could smell was leather. Then he pushed me forward; when he was done, my head and shoulders hung off of one edge of the table, and my rock-hard cock was pressed against the other. “Don’t move,” he ordered me, and then moved away again. When he came back, it was with heavy cuffs that he locked around my ankles, and a spreader bar that he used to force my legs apart. “How long can you hold this position?” he asked.

I thought about it for a moment, shifting gently in the ropes and judging how it made my back feel. “I don’t think this will be a problem. I’ve got pretty good support from the table. If I start to cramp, I’ll call red.”

“Good boy. Oh, and the two cards? The meaning of the nine of swords really doesn’t apply to anything we’re doing here tonight, but the artwork shows a lovely young man tied up with rope.” He patted my ass and moved away, and I felt a tug on the rope leash as he pulled it towards my chin and then down over the edge of the table. Nick moved around the table again, and there was a tug at my feet as pressure was put on the spreader bar.

Nick patted my ass again when he was done, and then ran one hand slowly down over my hip. “Can you move?” I tried and failed, finding myself unable to stand up straight. He must have tied the rope tails off to the spreader bar, trapping me over the table. I could move a little from side to side, but not much, and I told him so. He ran his nails down my spine. “Good. That’s the next two cards. Six of swords, and the Chariot, both reversed.”

“What, they mean bondage?” I asked, shifting a little, testing my limits.

“Not in so many words.” He slapped my ass and then slid his hand down, between my legs, stopping just before he reached my balls. I whimpered and thrust back, and he laughed and pulled his hand away. “Reversed, the Six of swords means hindrance, and the Chariot means lack of control.”

“Which means bondage,” I said again, pushing my ass back towards him. “Well, I’m hindered, and I’ve got no control. Is there a card in there that says I get fucked?”

“If that’s something that you were focusing on when you shuffled, then perhaps. There are five cards left, and they’re all face down. So… let’s see what the next card says. Maybe it’ll say you need to be gagged; you’re awfully chatty tonight.” The next card snap was so close to me that I jumped when it sounded. Nick made an odd sound, and then another card snapped. “Interesting.”

I wanted to ask what was so interesting, but I really didn’t want to be gagged, and I can take a hint. So I waited. Patience is a virtue, and virtue gets rewarded. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.

It seemed to work in this case. I heard another snap, different from the sound of the cards. This one I recognized as the top of the lube bottle being opened. It was followed by a cold dribble down the crack of my ass. A third snap, and I almost cheered; latex has a very distinctive sound―Nick had put on a glove. He ran his gloved nails up the back of my leg, making me twitch, then slowly started to spread the lube, making long sweeping strokes that ran from my balls to my anus and didn’t come nearly close enough to either. I groaned and tried to push back more, earning myself another slap.

“Stay still,” he ordered. He circled my anus with one finger and then slid it in slowly. The next stroke was two fingers, and then three, and I moaned in response, closing my eyes. He growled, leaning forward over me and reaching forward with his free hand, shoving his fingers in my mouth, “Is this enough for you, Styopa?”

I whined around his fingers and set to work, sucking as hard as I could and running my tongue over his knuckles the way I knew that he liked. He growled again as he started to finger-fuck me into a frenzy, then whispered into my ear, “You are such a hungry little slut, aren’t you, my Styopa? You want nothing more than my cock up your ass, down your throat, however you can get it. Don’t you?” I whined again. He was right, of course. I did want him, however I could get him. As often as I could get him, and as hard as I could get him. He laughed, pumping harder and shoving his fingers further down my throat; I had just enough slack in the ropes to pump against the edge of the table, and the sweat pooling under me made it easier, so I was building to a wonderful come…

And the phone rang. My eyes flew open as Nick laughed and pulled his fingers out of my mouth.

“So that’s what those cards meant!” he said. I heard the snapping of latex as he stripped off the glove, then the padding of his feet as he walked away…

The quiet buildup… November 15, 2011

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in book reviews, circlet, fanfic, Heart's Master, heeheeheehee, Princes of Air, Release date, Sherlock, SQUEEE, upcoming books, writing, writing-mom.
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I’ve been quiet.  I realize that I’ve been quiet. Which is no way to go in to the week before the release. However, there’s been a LOT of things going on. Some personal, some professional, some just plain silly.

On the personal front, I’m stressing a little (okay, a LOT). My son gets tubes put in his ears tomorrow morning. So I’ve been preoccupied with making sure all the ducks are in a row for that.

On the writing front, I’ve been plugging away at both Heart’s Master, and at my very first Sherlock fanfic. (If anyone is interested, it’s over here.) I will freely admit that the fanfic took over my brain for almost a week, so not as much got done on Heart’s Master as probably should have been done.

Building up for the next couple of days, leading into the 20th and the release, I’ll be starting an LJ author chat on Thursday the 17th, talking about Princes of Air and writing and life, and revealing the SUPER SEKRIT PROJECT! You can find the Circlet Press LJ over here, and I’ll be mirroring the posts a day later here.

And now, let me leave you with this, the FIRST REVIEW OF PRINCES OF AIR!!!

 

 

Release date! September 20, 2011

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in circlet, forthcoming works, KermitArms, Princes of Air, Release date, SQUEEE, Uncategorized.
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Check this out!

This is the official release date from Circlet!

PRINCES OF AIR by Elizabeth Schechter–November 1st


The Raven-Goddess Morrigan has nine sons, ravens, each granted two gifts: the ability to shift to human form, and the recognition of their soulmates. But, even for demi-gods, the path to true love is far from smooth. The brothers have drawn the attention of a family of powerful mages who will stop at nothing to gain power. Each brother will be forced to make sacrifices to keep their mates alive and protect their land from harm.

The End is Coming!!! May 19, 2011

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in Boosting the signal, circlet, ebooks, promotions, the-end-is-near.
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NO BETTER TIME THAN THE PRESENT? End of the World Erotica Anticipates the Rapture

(Cambridge, MA) — According to some religious sects purchasing billboard advertising across the country, this Saturday is Judgement Day.

In case the end of the world really does come on May 21st, Circlet Press has put their anthology of end-of-the-world erotic science fiction, APOCALYPSE SEX, on sale for one cent.

APOCALYPSE SEX features four stories of sudden sex in the face of doomsday. With their own demise staring them in the face, the characters in the book all come to the same conclusion: it’s time to have the best sex of their lives. Inhibitions are cast aside and fantasies are fulfilled as the doomed chase down their deepest desires. The book includes stories by J. Daniel Sawyer, Elizabeth Coldwell, Elizabeth Schechter, Beverly Langland, and David Hubbard.

The one cent offer is available through midnight Eastern time on May 21st only on circlet.com. If the world is still around after that, or to console those of us left behind, the book will then be 99 cents for another week before reverting to its normal $4.99 price. Read a sample or download the book from http://www.circlet.com/?p=1287

>Advent Calendar Dates December 8, 2010

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in advent Calendar, circlet, upcoming work.
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>I have more than just Snowbound showing up in the advent Calendar this year. Here is the story of mine that will appear, and the dates:

Darkest Night, from Apocalypse Sex, will appear on December 11th.

And now Snowbound, which is original and includes the characters from The Hand You’re Dealt, will appear sometime around Christmas Day. As soon as I know when, I’ll let you all know.

(edit – yes, I know that originally, I had said that there would be another story. Apparently, there was a change of plans that I wasn’t aware of. Not a big deal.)