Wednesday, October 31, 2012

New True Ghost Stories

I have a secret other blog.

Actually, it's not so secret, I just don't talk about it much.  Unless Halloween's coming up.  

And considering today IS Halloween, I invite you to check out some new TRUE ghost stories from some of your favourite authors at:

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Halloween Promo Opportunity for Authors/Prizes for Readers

This little party invite arrived in my inbox, so I thought I'd extend the invitation to you.  Looks like a Halloween party (with sexy results):

Please join us tomorrow here at the LR Cafe Yahoo Group when we let the doors open for fun, prize giveaways and more. 

The party will start at 8am est (USA) and end at midnight (USA/est).

This will be an open excerpt day only. No other promos but excerpts will be allowed. 

All genres are welcome and there is no limit on posting of excerpts. Excerpts can range from inspirational, sweet to so so sexy it makes you ache. 

Promotional managers/groups are allowed to post for their clients.

You will need to follow our excerpt posting rules. This means the following should be on all your posts:
in subject line, a heat rating for excerpt and genre of the book. Inside the excerpt a link for readers to go get more information such as a buy link, publisher home page link or even your website/blog.

I have loads of prizes to give and a marvelous grand prize that will blow your mind. 

You need to be a member of the LR Cafe Yahoo Group to participate and this is a high volume group so please, go special notices or no mail if you do not want a ton of emails in your inbox.

Any questions or if you want to donate a prize for tomorrow, please email me at dawn_roberto@yahoo(dot)com.


Dead Sexy

Look what just hit the market: a new Xcite anthology called Dead Sexy.

Okay, that was pretty exciting.  I have a ghost story in the antho.  Lots of other great authors are in there too.  But here's the thing: I pulled it up on Amazon, and the ebook version is only $2.99.


There are TWENTY stories in this anthology!  My "Girls Gone Carnal" costs more than this guy.  Just... wow.

So if you're shopping around for a Halloween deal, I think you've found it with Dead Sexy.

Here's the blurb:

Twenty stories of paranormal pleasures. Dead Sexy puts the vamp into vampires and the fantasy into femmes fatales.
The heroes and heroines of these stories may be cold-blooded but their antics are hot as hell!
From gorgeous ghosts and dirty demons to amorous apparitions and phantoms with a fetish, these ghoulish lovers are guaranteed to light up the darkest night.

Dead Sexy is brought to you by Xcite Books - winners of ETO Best Erotic Book Brand 2010, 2011 and 2012.

And the buy link:

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Look What Came in the Mail


It's a succubus anthology edited by D.L. King. and it contains my story "Neither Love Nor Money."

Erotica and succubi go hand in hand, so here's a book of shorts dedicated to the marriage of those themes.

Amazon tells me you can buy it now (and it's a pretty good price, too!)



Monday, October 22, 2012

Every Night Erotica Goes Out Like A Lamb

If you never visited, you might not be aware that Every Night Erotica was a site that published free erotica... every night.  Just like the sign says.  I was a big contributor.  The pay was quite lean, and yet some great authors like Jeremy Edwards and Lucy Felthouse have published there.

So, the news is that Every Night Erotica is no more.  The site is still there, but it's not publishing erotic fiction anymore.  Which is sad.  Here's the post on the topic:

If you haven't explored the site, there are hundreds of short stories posted there.  You might just find a treasure or two.  I published dozens of shorts at the site, and you can still read them here:

Happy Monday,

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Call for Submissions: Trans* Month of Awareness

I saw this call for subs on twitter and thought I'd spread the word:

Trans* Month of Awareness: 

OPEN CALL for writers who identify under the trans* spectrum.

Original Plumbing online is spotlighting important trans* figures of yesterday and today for the month of November in honor of Trans* Month of Awareness and Trans* Day of Remembrance (Nov. 20th).

Submit your written piece (under 1000 words), along with a 1-sentence bio and the name you wish to be publicly published under, to be considered for publication online. Send submissions to by Oct. 31st for consideration!

Thank you and SPREAD IT!


Saturday, October 13, 2012

LGBT Seniors Meet and Greet in Toronto

I spotted this little handout at a community centre in North Toronto, and since I've often heard said there's less support out there for older LGBT individuals than younger ones, I thought I'd post it here.

If you're having trouble reading the above, I'll recap briefly: Thursday October 18, 2012 a seniors' organization called SPRINT is holding a social and "special client engagement opportunity" from 2-4 p.m.  They want to know what YOU, LGBT and LGBT-positive people 55 and older, would like to see in upcoming programming.

All sexual orientations and gender identities welcome!

This event takes place at 140 Merton Street, Jane Moore Community Room

If you're an LGBT senior in Toronto, or you know people who are, attend/spread the word!


Thursday, October 11, 2012


It's National Coming Out Day, which, according to Wikipedia, IS observed here in Canada, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to say I'm here, I'm queer, you're probably used to it.  I guess I'm not COMING out, since I've never been shy about telling you all the dirty details of my sexual and romantic life, but why not take the opportunity to celebrate my sexual identity?
I'm not sure if I've blogged about the concept of "coming out" before, but I firmly believe that coming out is something we do every day, not just once and then it's over and we can live our lives as happy queers.  Coming out happens every time we walk down the street holding hands with our sweethearts.  Coming out happens every time we make small talk at a function and mention in passing our girlfriends or boyfriends or husbands or wives.  Coming out happens in linguistic selection, in not veiling our awesome selves.  

If our sexual and/or gender identifies evolve within our lifetimes, coming out can happen multiple times with the same set of people--family, friends, coworkers.  Those of us who identify as queer, bi, or even gay or lesbian, can express true solidarity by expressing our queerness verbally and vocally when/if we happen to be partnered with people of the "opposite sex" (I don't like that term, but can't think of a better one off-hand).  That's when the outside world will be most inclined to view us as straight.  I'm talking, for instance, when I was in my twenties and had a long-term partner who was a man.  People look at that and say "straight folks" and it takes a lot of effort to drive the queer point home.  We've got to be extra-loud when our visible out-in-the-world actions don't tell the whole story of our identities.  

We are constantly making choices, oftentimes not even aware we are doing so, that will determine whether we make our sexual identities known to strangers and acquaintances or not.

It's not a one-time dealy, just do it and you're done.  Every day is coming out day.

But especially today.

If you're coming out for the very first time today, or in an especially big way (like, if there's a pinata and cake involved), then all the power to you.  And I would like a piece of cake, please.


Excerptfest 2012: Boys Next Door

I just so happen to have an excerpt on hand from the inimitable Sommer Marsden.  The Book is Boys Next Door.  The burb is this:

Boys Next Door
Three Men, One Woman, Maximum Passion

Never in her hottest dreams did Farrell McGee expect a move to Tower Terrace to be such an erotic roller coaster ride. 
"Good luck getting your key. I’m the middle house across the road should you need anything. At all," he said. The tone, the words, the accent on the anything. Oh god, he was one of those men. Men who had tons of self assurance and sexual prowess and total faith in their bedroom abilities. Those men were dangerous.
Starting over at twenty eight, Farrell McGee discovers sleepy Tower Terrace teeming with handsome men. Well, maybe not teeming, but three heart-stopping men do live across the road from her.
Despite feeling she's fallen backwards into a fairytale, complete with a big stone tower, a local legend and missing love letters, it becomes clear that all three of her neighbours have a sensual grip on her. She's powerless to choose just one, and just as powerless to get them out of her head or her bed. Deke, the devilish good boy who's superb at being bad. Coop, so often annoying in his gruffness, but oh so dominant where it counts. And Stephen the pretty, sweet, slightly submissive one. Her sex life has never been so good and her heart never so torn. She needs to choose one man, when she's not ready to give up any of them. But deep down she knows who she wants.


‘It’ll be okay,’ he said, pulling me back just enough that I brushed against him which helped me get my bearings.

He was warm against me, but I shivered.

‘Your hands are freezing. Are you claustrophobic?’

‘Not so much that,’ I whispered as if louder noise would make us plummet to our deaths. ‘I just don’t like elevators. How long? How long will we be here?’

‘Do you want the truth or do you want a lie?’

I sighed. ‘The truth, though the smart money is probably on the lie.’

‘Probably half an hour to an hour. George has a good heart but slow hands.’

‘Great.’ I moved my hands around to try and find the railing that ran along the sides of the elevator. I didn’t think this poor man needed to be holding me like some damsel in distress. But what my fingers brushed was most definitely not the wall of the elevator. My hand froze.

‘Um . . .’ he said. And there was that dark and almost sinister laughter that somehow slid up my spine and under my hair and prickled my scalp like electricity.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.

A moment ticked by and I was afraid to breathe. I felt like I might laugh or cry or scream, or possibly all three at once.

‘But not enough to move it, eh?’ he asked, moving his body just enough that I felt the hard push of his cock to my hand.

My face heated with a blush. I was grateful he couldn’t see.

‘Shit. First I grope you and then I . . . just keep right on groping you. I don’t even move my hand. Have I mentioned the one thing that freaks me out is elevators? And a dark one that is being worked on by a slow man is the worst case scenario.’ ‘Hunh,’ he said and I could hear him smile.

‘And my hand is still on your cock!’ I blurted, finally ripping my hand away.

‘Hey, whatever calms you down, Farrell McGee.’

I couldn’t help but snort, but my hands were shaking and I felt a little light-headed.

‘You’re really scared,’ he said.

‘I’m –’

‘It’s coming off of you in waves. It’s palpable. That’s hard to pull off. Palpable fear.’

‘I am nothing if not talented.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a failed actress. You?’

‘Failed writer. But I am currently the butcher for our small town.’

‘Ah, I love meat.’

Dead silence.

‘Oh my God. I swear I’m not normally this stupid.’ I put my hand up to brush my hair out of my face, in the dark it felt like a million tiny spiders tickling my cheeks.

But I brushed over him instead – I was starting to wonder if it really was an accident – and he took my hand and squeezed it between his warm ones.

‘Breathe,’ he said. He put my hands flat on his chest and then placed his over the top of mine. I stood there, trying to calm down and feeling the steady and easy beat-beat-beat of his heart.

I took a deep breath and held it before blowing it out. The same way I did for stage fright.

‘Better?’ he asked, his face close, his breath smelling of mint.

‘Better,’ I echoed.

‘You smell good,’ he said. ‘Like peaches and . . . I can’t quite put my finger on it.’ Deke leaned in and sniffed right at the juncture of neck and shoulder. My skin prickled almost violently. ‘Honey?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘All I can smell is you.’

What was I doing? My God, I had just met this man, had only seen him in the light for a few moments and now – if my nether regions were to be believed – I wanted him.


‘And what do I smell like?’ He put his hands on my lower back, splaying his fingers, spreading their warmth. He pulled me just a touch closer and though his cock wasn’t touching me, I felt – or imagined I felt – the energy from his hard on mingling with my own lustful energy.

‘Pine and cinnamon and wood smoke. Like the outdoors. That’s what you smell like.’

‘Hunh. Good nose. I spent all day at a client’s fishing cabin, dressing a deer.’

For some odd reason, I imagined a deer in a skiing ensemble and snorted. But even as the laughter burst out of me, I pushed my pelvis to his. Brazen, but it was what I felt the urge to do. So I did it.

New life. New way of doing things.

‘Dressing?’ I rotated my hips just a bit and his fingers brushed over my skin sliding lower to slip beneath the waistband of my jeans.

‘It means butchering. But don’t worry,’ he said, when I went a bit stiff. ‘I cleaned up real good and even had some coffee by the fire before I left.’

His mouth came down on mine then and I figured, fuck it. I was scared and horny and he was handsome and Satan-ish and felt damn good pressed against me.

I let his tongue bully mine before I put my hands in that dark mussed hair I remembered and hauled him to me. Deeper went the kiss and when he bumped his erection against me so I could feel how turned on he was, I nipped his lip.

‘Damn,’ he said. ‘Welcome to town.’

‘Shh. Kiss me,’ I said, rubbing my hand over his cock, squeezing his length through his jeans until he groaned. ‘I need to be distracted.’

‘I can do that,’ he said against my lips. Then he was turning me. A flipping, flying, falling sensation because of the darkness. My back ended up pressed to the wall of the elevator, my ass riding that metal bar I’d been searching out.

‘Touch me,’ I begged. I wasn’t sure where this new ‘me’ was coming from, but it was fine. She was okay by me.

‘I can do that,’ he echoed and his warm fingers ran down my belly, making me tremble.

His hand slipped below my jeans before plunging into my panties. Deke’s hot fingers found my clit and he pressed so that all my breath slipped out of me. Warm wet circles brought me close to an orgasm right off the bat. He was good.

I arched against him and kissed him again, finding his face – a bit rough with stubble – with my hands. I sighed again, arching up to meet his touch and he lazily slipped a thick finger into my cunt.

‘You’re so fucking wet, Ms McGee,’ Deke said against my throat. His teeth grazed my pulse point and he gently sucked that fragile skin until an echoing tug sounded in my cunt. My body tightened around his finger and this time we both groaned.

[To be continued]

Amazon US:
Amazon UK:
All Romance Ebooks:
Barnes and Noble:

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Excerptfest 2012: Gigglepuss

After working in the same restaurant for four years, Lorna develops a sudden and explosive crush on quirky Mitsuki. Though Mitsuki doesn't seem to oppose Lorna's advances, every time Lorna tries to kiss the girl, Mitsuki giggles. For a cocky dyke like Lorna, giggles are insulting ... almost infuriating! A sacrilege! Can Lorna quell the giggles, or will she join in?


I kissed her on Tuesday, and she giggled.

I kissed her on Wednesday, and she giggled.

Thursday I vowed not to take another chance. I wasn’t used to being laughed at. Other girls didn’t titter when I pulled them close, took their soft cheeks firmly between my palms and pressed their luscious lips to mine. Other girls understood the seriousness of my intent. But other girls were not Mitsuki.

My ego was battered and bruised, but I couldn’t resist. I couldn’t resist those pink lips gleaming like liquid glass under a thick layer of gloss. I couldn’t resist those hazel eyes, which sparkled even more brilliantly than her lips. She reminded me of a Japanese anime schoolgirl, the way she flirted and teased with nothing but the bat of an eyelash. But Mitsuki was real. She was flesh and blood – warm flesh and cold blood, it seemed to me, because I kissed her again on Thursday, and she giggled.

I left work in a hidden fury that night. I didn’t want her to see how exasperating I found her, or the restaurant, or this situation, or anything. Cool as a cucumber – that’s Lorna. Ask any of the closet bi babes in this godforsaken boonie-ville and they’ll tell you the very same: Lorna never loses it. Lorna’s always in control. The guys around here are scared of me – they cross to the other side of the road when I’m marching down the sidewalk – but the women? Oh, they’re a different story altogether.

Women love me. They just don’t know it until I tell them. And, actually, it’s less a telling than a showing. I catch some gorgeous marriage-laden MILF or some barely-legal pretty checking me out, and I hold their gazes. I don’t let go. They’re spellbound. I know when I’ve got them mesmerised. I know they’d follow me to the ends of the Earth and, when we arrived there, they’d let me do whatever I damn well desired.

Well, I don’t usually trail them along quite that far, but it’s never been too hard to force-feed that look that says, ‘Follow me’. Up they get, excusing themselves from their friends or family or date-night with the hubby. ‘Just going to powder my nose,’ they say, because the women in this goddamn town never stray beyond euphemism. These are girly girls, even the grown women. They don’t piss; they powder.

Though they don’t piss or powder once I’ve made eye contact. They walk right past the restrooms, straight down the hall to my filthy post-war industrial kitchen. If it’s summer weather, I pull them out into the alleyway and press their backs to the brick wall. The garbage cans are right there, but I’ve never heard one of them complain about the smell. They’re already too intoxicated by the spell they’ve let me cast, and they go limp in my arms. They don’t put up a fight. They don’t chatter or gab, and they definitely don’t giggle. I kiss them and they take it. They might sigh or gasp – in fact, they usually do – but I’ve never heard a single one of them laugh.

If it’s spring, when a young woman’s fancy turns to thoughts of lust and her wardrobe turns to breezy little dresses, I might just hike up the girl’s skirt and let her pussy ride my palm. Otherwise, I’ll just launch my hands up her top and thumb her tits through her bra. If one of those nipples escapes, so much the better – I’ll squeeze it between my thumb and forefinger until she’s weak at the knees.


Get it at Xcite:

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Excerptfest 2012: Faithful John and the Dungeon Ravens

In this loose adaptation of the Grimm Brothers' tale Faithful John, the queen's untimely death leaves her son in charge of the brothel-like castle dungeon. Though her devoted servant, Faithful John, promised the queen he would keep the young man from the cursed Mistress Mei, nothing can divide royalty and young love. When the young king asks for her hand in marriage, she realizes her acceptance is a death sentence and says yes even so. Can Faithful John save Mistress Mei from her prescribed fate, or will his devotion see him turned to stone?


Faithful John paused at the foot of the stairs, turning to face the boy. “On her deathbed, your mother asked me to share this secret with you.”

“Is this a torture chamber?”

“Only for those who wouldn’t wish it,” Faithful John began. “For those who would, it is desire fulfilled.”

Walking ahead, the devoted servant pulled open a rich velvet curtain to reveal a scene the likes of which young Edward might never have conceived. On a thick lumber platform in the cold stone room lay a bald man. He was on his back, immobilized, his ankles tied to his wrists like a giant naked pig ready for roasting.

When the stunning creature securing the knots stepped out from behind the pig-man, Faithful John made the introductions. “Edward, meet Mistress Jasmina. Jasmina, our new King.”

Her full breasts bounced as she curtsied, a move that seemed to Edward excessively formal for a woman wearing only a leather half-corset. Mesmerized by the sway of her bronze tits with their dark, pointed nipples, he only noticed the polished wooden phallus she wore when she began petting it.

“Are you here to watch?” she asked. Her words were shaped formally, but syrup-sweet. “To assess my performance, perhaps?”

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he stammered, glancing quickly up at Faithful John before returning his drooling gaze to Jasmina.

“Not to be a bother,” the stuck pig spoke up, “but could somebody close the curtain? Rather drafty ‘round the nether regions, I should say.”

“Shut up, pig,” Mistress Jasmina commanded in a tone hard and firm. “I’m speaking with the king. Do you fancy yourself more important that the king?”

“No, Mistress,” he gushed. “I’m sorry, Mistress. Sorry, King Edward. My deepest sympathy, by the way, on the passing of your dear mother.”

“Shut up, you loud-mouthed swine!” she scolded. With a casual shrug, she said to Faithful John, “This is why I usually gag them.”

“I don’t understand any of this,” Edward intruded. “What has this man done to deserve such punishment? And what is that you’re wearing around your waist?”

A chuckle like grains of sugar glittered from Jasmina’s pink lips. “Such innocence! It’s rare, nowadays.”

“This place is a playground for people who find pleasure in pain,” Faithful John revealed.

The giddy excitement fell from Edward’s face, though not from his pants. “Why would my mother allow this?”

“She built it,” the servant replied.


Faithful John and the Dungeon Ravens is a BDSM/fantasy/historical/fairy tale type of story, and it's available from Xcite:
Oh, and one thing I noticed about the site is that you can scroll down and on the left you can change the currency from pounds to US dollars, depending on what you've got to spend.  I think it's currently listed at only $0.99 or £0.65!


Friday, October 5, 2012

Gag Me With A Spoon

It's official: nothing is sacred.  Look at this ad in my program from the Canadian Opera Company's production of Die Fledermaus:

That's right!  You big-time lovers of the bestest cultural phenomenon that ever did exist ever-ever-EVER can now get Fifty Shades of Grey THE ALBUM (at Indigo, apparently).  Gosh, sorry for all the caps but I haven't been so darn excited to live in Toronto since I spotted that bus ad for labiaplasty on the TTC.  Oh, and in case you heard about this album, which is without a doubt super-amazing, and had the gall to forget, now you can be reminded of its existence whenever you go to the opera this fall.  And you thought you could escape low culture at the Four Seasons Centre!  Mwahahaha... the bat's revenge!

I think I'll cancel my subscription now.  Or maybe after I hurl.  We'll see.


Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Nuit Blanche Redux and Big Discoveries

People are always asking me what the hell "nuit blanche" means.  Directly translated, it's "white night" (most can figure out that much on their own), but it kind of means sleepless night, awake all night, that sort of thing.

Nuit Blanche is also an all-night arts festival that's held in cities worldwide.  Here in Toronto, we just had ours September 29th, from sundown to dawn.  It really does run all night.  And, as you might expect, the downtown core is packed with drunk kids and the whole city smells like pot, but if you avoid the patches of vomit along the sidewalk and try not to see all the garbage people have thrown on the streets, you can see some really amazing things.

I stopped attending Nuit Blanche for a couple years, mainly because for a while it seemed like events were getting really spread.  You had to walk a long while to get to one, and then once you got there it was pretty "meh."  I'm not exactly sure why I returned this year, but I'm glad I did.

The new Ryerson Image Centre opened its doors with an excellent inaugural exhibition (my favourite part was the panoramic views of Northern Canada), and I also spent a long while at the... oh, what was it called?  I want to say "World Championship High-Five Competition" in the front lawn of Campbell House.  Members of the public competed in pairs, putting together high-five routines, and they did it in a ring with full colour commentary.  It was hilarious.

But the best event by far was at TIFF Bell Lightbox, a YouTube-centric show called Like/Comment/Subscribe hosted by Andrew Gunadie, a.k.a @gunnarolla. And friends.  And a lot of friends, actually, because his shows all featured a musical guest.

And now we come to my loveliest discovery of the night: Mitchell Moffit.  When he walked on stage, I thought to myself "this guy will be the next Owen Pallett."  Sure enough, he started looping tracks and singing and I couldn't believe my first impression was so on the money.  He was aaaaamazing!  Amazing!  Incredibly, the performance I saw was his first live gig ever.  I was blown away, so I tracked down his website where you and I and everyone can download his album FOR FREE (with his blessing--he wants you to have it!)

Here's Mitchell Moffit's website: If you and I have the same taste in music, you're bound to love him.

K, that's it for now.
Giselle out.