Cheap Smut!

I just love writing subject lines like that one.

Just realized that Circlet Press’ ebook anthology Like Twin Stars: Bisexual Erotic Stories is available for sale. You can find it here, near the bottom of the page. It’s super-cheap, considering it’s an ebook and there’s only three stories in it (20,000 words total) — just $2.29, a special sale price! There doesn’t seem to be an excerpt linked at the moment, but I can provide one myself, since my story “The Dancers’ War” makes up 1/3 of the content. Worksafe, but trimmed for brevity:

“I’ve heard the Weavers-of-Cloud called Weavers-of-Grass by the elders of my clan,” he said in a voice as deep as a bear’s, “but I had no idea the men of your kind came this small. Are you a child?”

“Are you a termite mound?” I retorted. “How will you dance with such a lumbering body? Unless you mean to prove yourself by hurling rocks or some other barbarian craft.”

“I dance well enough,” he said. “You will have your challenge, never fear.” Then he stepped closer so that he, too, stood with his toes on the border-line. This put his chest only a few inches from my nose. I was near enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.

I craned my neck upwards to glare at his chin. “You try to intimidate me like a beast — all size and superficiality. Perhaps you think your shaggy mane helps too.”

“Perhaps you think your beauty makes you a woman,” he said softly.

I frowned at this, for at first I was not certain it was an insult. I had been named beautiful by others, though none would presume to call it womanlike; that would have been like comparing a pile of mud to finished sculpture. For him to imply that I thought so highly of myself… “Weavers-of-Cloud revere the old ways,” I snapped, “unlike you grass-hopping Ketuyae. I don’t claim to be the equal of a woman, but I’m more than equal to you.”

He nodded, his smile widening as if I’d pleased him in some way. “We shall see on the proving field,” he said then, and — another insult — walked away without so much as a bow.

I stood glaring after him, my fists tight at my sides. I was flushed, breathing hard as if I’d already danced a full Twelve. I wanted to run after him and attack him with my fists like an uncultured child. I wanted to run back to my pavila and laugh into my furs. I felt giddier than if I’d eaten honey-sweets.

Oh, this challenge would be everything I’d waited for. Everything I’d dreamed.

Yeah, basically it’s The Clan of the Cave Bear with pretty dancing multiculti bi boys instead of a Prehistoric Mary Sue. Oh, and it’s very, very graphic — like, NC-17 level. Take that as enticement or warning, as you please.