Category Archives: Horror

How About a #Freebie?

I realized this morning I wasn’t going to do a Wednesday post this week because it’s already Thursday. Doh! That MLK day really screwed with my head. I’ve been wonky all week (more wonky than usual, I should say).

The newsletter signup and freebie are a go, after much agony from Calibre for some reason I still haven’t figured out. So, make my pain worthwhile and use this link to sign up for your free e-copy of “The Ferryman Cometh.”

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I won’t spam you, I swear on all that is good and holy. I’ll only send the rare newsletter to let you know when I have something new coming out. Promise. Realistically, I can barely make myself blog, so that should give you an accurate sense of how often I’ll compose newsletters.

Okay, I’ve spent entirely too long in front of a computer today. I’m going to go pour a glass of wine and make some freakin’ meatloaf so kids can tell me it’s yucky in an hour because that’s the kind of day it’s been.

XOXO,

Kimber

 

 

 


What’s Up Wednesday

Hey, all! It occurred to me on Monday that I should come up with a clever little name for one day of the week and blog religiously on that day. What’s Up Wednesday fit the bill, but it was Monday, so damn. Luckily I’m uber-slow and got hung up on a billion other tasks. I blinked and it’s Wednesday!  Like magic, baby!

As an aside, I did a search for What’s Up Wednesday and found this YA author had a weekly hop with the title a few years back. Seems to be defunct, but I’ll give her full credit, especially since she has some swell blog post ideas I’ll probably borrow at some point.

So, what have I been up to? Seems a legit topic to begin. For one, I’ve been working on starting a newsletter and polishing up a short story I plan to dangle in front of your clicking fingers to make you sign up, so get ready for that. It’s the only way to get your hands on my tale, “The Ferryman Cometh,” a dark paranormal erotic MMM, so a tad off my beaten path with that extra M. 😉 I’ll let you know when that’s ready to e-ship, likely by next Wednesday if not sooner.

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I’m self-editing “Balancing Act” right this second. I’m about 2/3 done and then I’ll get it to beta readers. It’s a tough edit because I am striving to keep it just under 40,000 words so it doesn’t jump to the next price point with my publisher. At the moment, I have maybe 300 words of wiggle room, so I’m essentially fucked, but still gonna give it my all. The problem is, when I’m writing dialog fast, I often omit the tags and then come in later and add a bit of meat to make it clear who’s speaking. Hopefully I won’t hit any major rough patches in the home stretch that will require, well, more words. 😛

Okay, that’s it for now. Stay tuned for more newsletter info coming shortly, and more general blogging on Wednesday. Heck, maybe I’ll go do some crunches while I’m on my self-improvement kick.
rainbow logo

-Kimber

 

 

 


Halloween Flash Hop! #free #flash #fiction

It’s that time of year again; the time where my friend Heloise West organizes a flash fiction hop I signed up for long ago and thought I had plenty of time to get done and then I end up freaking out a bit when I realize my time it up.

It’s also that time of year where ghosts and goblins are out and about. I’m super excited to be the Twinkie house this year. I used to love the one house that gave Twinkies when I was a kid, and now all my adult dreams will be realized on Halloween night as I pass out assorted Little Debbies, Hostess, and Drakes’ Cakes. You should have seen the mom steering her toddler away from the mass-produced cream-filled pastry shelf (to the tune of “I want that!” and “No! We are not getting those!”) while I piled them into my cart. I told my hubby my Twinkie plan and he said, “I thought those were for us.” All ten boxes? That would make the disgusted look that woman gave me legit, tempting as those sweet cakes may be.

 

So, anyway, my flash…well, I did two. The first includes my boys, Kyrie and Greg (who will star in my NaNoWriMo bloodletting this year, so it was great to get back with them for a quickie–a little foreplay for next week,eh?). Horsing Around is just under 1200 words and is probably more vignette than flash.

My second offering is about 300 words and is straight up horror. If you aren’t jiggy with it, don’t read it. I just wanted a bit more bite for my All Hallows’ Eve.

 

Horsing Around

by K. Vale

copyright Kimber Vale

 

“No way. You’re not getting me in that thing.” Greg shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest in case Kyrie thought he’d be an easy push this time. Not happening.

“It took me two trips to get all of Mr. Ed home. Tuesday was your end and Wednesday I lugged my half. It was a total bitch.” Kyrie heaved the goofy brown horse head in the air to demonstrate.

Seriously, what play did the theater company ever use that atrocity for?

“I got trapped on the subway when I couldn’t get this huge freakin’ head through the crowd.” His voice climbed as he waved Pinto the wonder horse in Greg’s face.  “I had to walk the three blocks back with this thing looking over my shoulder. With people staring at me! We’re not not wearing it!”

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“Halloween Night” by koratmember via freedigitalphotos.net

Like Kyrie didn’t love people staring at him.

“Well I’m really not wearing it. You do what you like.”

“It’s because you’re the backside, isn’t it? Come on.” Kyrie smirked. “That’s perfect for you.”

“So now I’m an ass for not wanting to dress like one?” Greg scowled in warning. I can’t believe this is gonna be a fight.

Kyrie clicked his tongue and dropped the horse head to press up against Greg’s chest. Apparently Plan A to convince Greg wasn’t working. Maybe Plan B involved a blow job; Greg might even find himself cantering down 5th Street later tonight, in that case.

“No, silly. I wanted you behind me because that’s where I love ya best. Then you could be grabbin’ my ass all night.” He wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips.

Greg sighed and cupped the ass in question. “I was planning to do that in my cowboy hat and jeans. I’ll throw on a bandana if you’re after a little incognito role play.” He drew Kyrie closer. “It’s a costume video game tournament—we couldn’t even leave that thing on to play. Plus it’s pouring out, Kyr.”

“Lawyers.” Kyrie rolled his eyes.

A spike of electricity arced across the Manhattan skyline and touched down on the Empire State Building’s lightning rod as if an exclamation point for Greg’s words. He grinned. “We’d be a soggy mess in all that fur.” Greg leaned over, nibbling Kyrie’s lips to apply his own brand of persuasion while outside thunder boomed loud enough to rattle  the glasses on the wet bar. “It’d weigh a ton.” Kiss. “Costume would get ruined.” Kiss, kiss, kiss. Of course, just tasting Kyrie always lit Greg’s fuse, and within seconds their tongues were slipping together, breath catching as Greg pulled their bodies as close as physics allowed. He kissed down Kyrie’s neck and across his collarbone, loving the soft sounds of surrender Kyr made.

“We could just stay home and play horse, if you want.” Greg slipped a hand between their bodies to get a rub on both their budding erections.

“Liv’ll be mad if we don’t come.”

I’ll be mad if we don’t come.” Greg unbuttoned Kyrie’s tight pants and inched down the barrier between them until his fingers found the slick tip of Kyrie’s cock. Thunder clapped around them again.

Kyrie trembled and groaned. “You know I’m always rarin’ to ride you all night long, stud.”

“Giddy up. Liv can just miss us.” Greg fisted Kyrie’s cock, hugging tight as he pumped him slow. Silky skin slipped over Kyrie’s hot head and back down again.

“Mmmm.” Kyrie flirted his tongue over Greg’s lips while he worked Greg’s pants open. “Remember that time on the dining room table?”

“It’s a favorite of mine.”

“Well, it hardly seems right that none of those chairs have seen any action.”

“True. We never even eat over there, forget about fucking.”

“I can be old and shriveled and forget my name, but I never wanna forget about fucking.” Kyrie shook his head solemnly as he slicked a thumb over Greg’s wet slit. “Raw, dirty fucking. Sweet, soul-squeezin’ fuckin’. Fast and furious fucking.” He dropped to his knees and looked up at Greg with laughing amber eyes.

Oh, the fucking was phenomenal, but Greg wanted those eyes forever burned in his feeble old brain.

“Suck you so good you wanna put on a horse costume kinda fucking…”

“Ah haaaahhh…” Greg tried to be indignant but instead he drooled on himself as Kyrie swallowed his entire length.

Lightning lit up the night sky like July sun. The lights browned, recovered, and then cut out completely.

“Shit.” Greg breathed heavily into the sudden silence. What had been making noise? The refrigerator? Weird how he’d thought it was quiet before. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Kyrie’s mouth pulled off Greg’s dick. He stood, feeling his way up Greg’s body as if he’d be lost in the boundless sea of their black condo without continuous contact. “Pretty sure I’m not gonna see anything coming. Hoping I’ll still feel it, though.”

Greg imagined a whiskey colored eye winking up at him.

“Aren’t you glad we’re not on a train right now? Or stuck at Liv’s if they lost power too?”

“Yeah. Electricity’s an important sponsor of Halloween Gamer Bowl. Without it, the games just aren’t the same.” Kyrie shifted and fabric wisped over Greg’s fingers before naked skin replaced cotton. “I just wish I’d grabbed the lube before the lights…went down…in the cit-tay.” He did a damn good Steve Perry.

“Probably just a transformer. I still see some power out there. Or maybe that’s generators.” Greg reached up to where he thought Kyrie’s head would be and brushed over his ear before adjusting to run his fingers over soft shorn hair. “I can rustle up a flashlight for that lube, though.”

“Much obliged, partner, but I’m not against roughin’ it once in a while, provided you don’t need no newfangled electric to hock a loog.” Now Greg apparently had a Texas longhorn standing in front of him. The longhorn still felt very much like Kyrie’s though. Saliva pooled in Greg’s mouth as he gripped their pricks with both hands and Kyr’s fingers joined the party.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” He slipped one hand over Kyrie’s hip before sliding back to knead his ass. “Think we can make it to the dining room without breaking any toes?”

“Yeehaw.” Kyrie let go of Greg’s dick and took his hand.

A tremor of excitement ripped through him. He could barely wait for the answering clap of thunder. Grinning, he let Kyr lead him through the darkness. He went willingly; he always did when Kyrie took his hand.  And of course Greg grabbed the sweet ass in front of him every step of the way.

 

————

Shhhhh

By Kim

copyright Kimber Vale

 

"Evil Roaring" by hyena reality via freedigitalphotos.net

“Evil Roaring” by hyena reality via freedigitalphotos.net

He dissects his work with one sharp, critical eye. The remnants of its match hide under a frayed brown patch, and I picture a squint of skin over the occluded void. I marked him once. I relive it often; taste salted metal in my mouth while he toys with me. His shouts and slurs still echo in my head. It’s my one miniscule comfort as I cower on a soiled seat, cut adrift in a hell no God could imagine.

“Damn it!” He spits when he speaks. I flinch, but my bonds—arms, wrists, ankles, and the odious strap anchoring my head—make for barely more than a blink. “Missed a stitch right there.” He points and his finger flits over my lip. Fire blooms under the slight pressure. I would cry. I used to, but dehydration shut down the waterworks yesterday. Or maybe the day before. That’s fine. The first day he licked them from my cheeks and I retched behind my sutures.

The low moan I eternally exhale, raw meat throat or no, grows louder with each rip of the half-scabbed seam. Finally, my mouth is open, upper lip pelting lower with blood raindrops from bruised sky skin in the warped light-fixture-reflection before me. I gulp in air and vomit rusty screams for four ears only. I wish he’d come closer. I’d make it three.

He preps his needle again, hands sluggish as he focuses on my face instead of the lone silver eye trapped between his calloused fingers. He shushes me with his lips at first. Then he adds the cold push of steel and the burning rasp of thread. One fresh stitch at a time I fall silent but for my moans, swallowing down salted metal harsh as barbed wire. I don’t shed a single tear.

 

 

Let all of these other hoppers flash you, too!

October 26:

http://www.jenawade.com/blog/

http://alittlebitofnaughty.blogspot.com/

October 27:

http://ndwylders.blogspot.com/

http://ameliabishop.wordpress.com/

October 28

http://alexisduranblog.com/

http://sexyforreview.blogspot.com/

October 29:

https://kimbervale.me/

http://www.jennahscott.com/

October 30:

http://jthallwriting.wordpress.com/

http://chrismchart.com/

October 31:

http://wordsthatburnlikefire.wordpress.com/

http://skyejonesromanceblog.wordpress.com/

http://velvetpanic2.wordpress.com/

 

http://skyejonesromanceblog.wordpress.com/

 

 

 

http://new.inlinkz.com/luwpview.php?id=433448

 


Look what was in My Inbox!

Happy surprise release day to me!

Like a Chill Down Your Spine: Erotic Ghost Stories

Like a Chill Down Your Spine: Erotic Ghost Stories

By: Trish DeVene | Other books by Trish DeVene
Annabeth Leong | Other books by Annabeth Leong
Artemis Savory | Other books by Artemis Savory
David Hubbard | Other books by David Hubbard
Angela Goldsberry | Other books by Angela Goldsberry
T.C. Mill | Other books by T.C. Mill
Kimber Vale | Other books by Kimber Vale
Cristofer Darius Arthur | Other books by Cristofer Darius Arthur
Published By: Circlet Press, Inc.
ISBN # 9781613901021
Word Count: 33000
Heat Index     

Available in: Epub, Mobipocket (.mobi), Adobe Acrobat

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About the book

A well-told ghost story should send a chill–or a thrill–to your very core. In the erotic landscape of the supernatural, who better to bring that thrill than ethereal spirits, the shades of unfulfilled lovers, or the poltergeists of mischief? Vampires and werewolves may rule the media these days, but ghosts will never fade away. Feel the emptiness, the presence, the sense that someone is looking just over your shoulder as you get into bed at night. What haunts will visit you in your sleep?

Ghosts are everywhere: they haunt the movies we watch, the dreams we keep, and the places we choose to visit or re-visit. Ghosts are history. They are searching for a way to repeat what they’ve done already, or to try things they have never done before. In these seductive stories, characters revisit, or are visited by, old friends who were dying to be lovers, or old lovers of family, or ghosts attracted to strangers.

Like a Chill Down Your Spine: Erotic Ghost Stories includes contributions by Pushcart Prize nominee Trish DeVene, Angela Goldsberry, T.C. Mill, Annabeth Leong, Kimber Vale, David Hubbard, and Cristofer Darius Arthur. Come experience the erotic thrill of the ghostly at the hands of these fiction maestros.

—————

My MFM story “Grave Secrets” is in here.

Blurb:

Carmella waits at the cemetery hoping to bid a final farewell to her deceased grandmother. She isn’t the only one who comes to call, however. Two ghosts–brothers–also appear to reclaim  the woman they loved decades ago. It’s an honest case of mistaken identity when they welcome Mel with open arms and open military uniforms.

-Kimber


I Got Tagged. Hard.

I was tagged to write this blog post by the damn awesome Sofia Grey.

Thanks much, Sofia! You can find her post here. 

What are you working on right now?

Well, I’m trying to finish up my second Shooting Stars book, Double Takes.  It’s an MM romance involving a middle-aged, sorta-washed-up rock star and a younger guy. I originally pegged it for 50K words, but I’m there now and still have a sex scene, a climax (not the sex scene kind), and a happy ending (again, not the sex kind) to go. Sigh. I’m thinking 60K at this point.

Gio_veNaLe

Gio_veNaLe (Photo credit: Niccolò Caranti)

After that, I have plans for the third in this series, (top-secret title, with a main character who is an actor, not a rocker) but I may take a break to write the futuristic thingy I have keeping me up at night. We’ll see. Book three smacked me upside the head with inspiration while I was in the shower earlier today, so it may win out. It’s gonna be angsty (she said, shaking like an excited terrier)!

How does Double Takes differ from other works in its genre?

It probably doesn’t. 😉 Actually, I think Gio’s book has a pretty original premise, but I don’t want to spoil it for anyone. And it takes place in my old stomping ground, Bean Town, so it’s near and dear to my heart. The entire book is told only from Gio’s point of view, which was different for me, but a fun writing workout. I had to make my other MC likable and relatable without ever getting in his head (In his pants? Yes, but not in his head). You can check out the first kiss scene from Double Takes posted here, if you are so inclined. And Chance and Alex from Forever do make an appearance in Gio’s book, for anyone who’s wondering.

Why do you write what you do?

Basically, I write what I like to read. I’m also a crazy rock-metal-concert-going-fan-girl, so the music theme in my current series was a natural. I was always a huge fan of rogues and romance ever since I was a young thing who shouldn’t have been reading such business, and I devoured horror, sci-fi, and adventure my entire reading career. Now, I just mash-up my favorite things and hope for the best. I also firmly believe that love isn’t ruled by anything, including gender, so I will write any damn sexual pairing that beckons my muse.

How does your writing process work?

Does it? I’m not so sure. 🙂 I usually have a flash of idea—a character, an overall plot arc, or even a title—that dictates the whole shebang. Very often a song will spark an idea. I plot via an outline and copious scribbles in a black and white composition notebook. When I feel I have enough to actually seal the deal and not get stuck in a plot rut, I start writing.  And that’s all she wrote.

Now is the time on Sprockets when we dance, I mean tag three other people.

The fickle finger of fate lands on Diane Saxon, Heloise West, and Max Vos.

-Kimber


Wild West Succubus by Lila Shaw: Guest Post and Excerpt

Thanks, Kimber, for having me on your blog to talk about my latest release, Wild West Succubus.
Sometimes a short story is nothing more than that. Other times it’s a seed that with a little TLC can germinate in to a much larger story. Wild West Succubus began its life as a short story, only a few pages in length. It wasn’t a romance. There wasn’t a happy ending. The succubus of the title, Priscilla, was actually a pretty nasty character because she killed a man at the end. Erotic horror would have been the proper genre for it then.The reality is romance sells better than horror. The challenge was taking Priscilla’s murderous sex rampage and turning it into a love story. Ha! Impossible, right?Probably would have been had I not introduced a hero into the story to turn Priscilla around–Hugo. Hugo had to be powerful and he had to see the good in Priscilla. For that to happen, Priscilla needed to soften up some, to have her motivations better explained, to make her more sympathetic. I also needed to build chemistry between Priscilla and her Hugo. I needed to create a hero readers would admire.I think I accomplished all I set out to do and created a much richer story that was more enjoyable for readers. The addition of love always does make for a better story, in my humble opinion.
wildwestsuccubus_FINALCOVER

Blurb:

A woman damned…

Priscilla Goodnight, a widow in the harsh Kansas frontier, has a cattle ranch to run. She can’t afford to reveal any cracks in her tough exterior or indulge in sexual liaisons with her ranch hands. But a hungry succubus can only exercise so much self-restraint, making discretion, disguise and memory-wiping her top managerial skills.

The mysterious stranger who knows her darkest secret…

Priscilla doesn’t remember hiring the man with the wily smile and the flannel voice. At all. Men as physically appealing as Hugo Desmond rarely escape her bed, let alone her memory. And how is he able to move so fast, yet nobody notices but her?

Is she his target, his mission or his bait?

Hugo is a gargoyle—a specially-trained executioner—sent to purge the west of evil. With succubi falling squarely in demon territory, Priscilla has every reason to fear him … yet she can’t stay away. Hugo says he needs her help and wants to save her soul. But is redemption possible for a woman as wicked as Priscilla, or will love thaw her heart just enough for Hugo to crush it?

Excerpt:

A few of the men are laughing and eating breakfast, but as soon as I walk in, they grow silent … mostly.

“Morning, Miss Priscilla. Did you sleep well?” Fred asks, his last words ending with a snicker.

Most of the other men snicker too, all but Hugo, that is. He probably doesn’t know the rest well enough to be privy to their secrets.

Jesse slaps Gray on the back and Gray grins. Speaking through a mouth full of half-chewed biscuits, Gray says, “I slept like a titty baby myself.”

The others snort back their laughter. Hugo’s forehead furrows as he glances around the table.

I sigh. I don’t know why I expected better from Gray. But little boys must be taught their lessons, and the first one is don’t fuck with a succubus who holds your soul in hock.

After giving each man a smile in turn, I close my eyes and yank on Gray’s tether. He keels over and falls face first into the puddle of gravy on his plate.

“What the … Gray?” Jesse lifts Gray’s face from the plate and shoves him back against his chair, wide-eyed but unseeing. Mr. Yao’s savory sauce drips in long slimy strings from Gray’s nose. “Gray?” Jesse slaps Gray on the face a few times.

Gray isn’t home anymore. I slurp the last bits of his soul’s life-force in and breathe deeply as it spreads throughout every inch of my body. I am energized, immortal, powerful, and pissed off.

Hugo skewers me with his gaze, cold and hard. “Are you sure you want to do that? May raise more questions than it solves.”

What the hell is he talking about? Fuck him! Fuck all of them!

One by one, starting with Jesse, I lock gazes with each man around the table. As I ransack their recent memories, their expressions transform from mirth to horror to incoherent. The two newer hands I’ve never had to mind-wipe before—Winston and Jasper—fall asleep. The older hands will slowly regain their wits with what have been called devilishly hideous headaches. If any of them think they can take to their beds sick today, they’re dead wrong.

Hugo watches the entire proceedings, and when I get to him, my last target, he presses his lips into a thin line and resists my trespass into his mind. Those glacial blue eyes of his frost over and then seal shut, expelling me and slamming the door in my face.

How the hell is he able to do that?

With a snap of Hugo’s fingers, all motion, except his and mine, ceases. The clock stops ticking. A napkin casually tossed hovers an inch above the table’s surface. Mouths are frozen mid-word. Arms float rigidly in the air, and eyes stare blankly.

“Think, Pris,” Hugo repeats. His jaw is rigid, and his hands are curled into fists.

I stop trying to force my way inside Hugo’s mind. “Wh-what’s going on?” I wave a hand in front of Fred’s face, nearly threatening to put his eye out, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink. I shove my chair away from the table and jump to my feet. “What kind of sorcery is this?”

Hugo slowly raises his eyes to mine. In measured words he says, “Give Gray back his soul.”

“I need it.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You don’t.”

“He deserved what he got!”

“No. He didn’t. All you needed to do was mind-wipe him, just like the others. Sucking him dry is excessive. You don’t have to go that far. Besides that, we’re kinda short-handed. Do you really want to fall behind this time of year? Think about how hard it will be to find a replacement.”

The horror of this man’s cognizance of what I am grips me. “Who are you? What are you?” I take a few steps back, wondering if I should flee.

He lifts his eyes to mine. “I’m someone you should be very afraid of.”

“Afraid? Of you?” I throw my head back and laugh dramatically, just like those ladies on the stage. “Oh, little big man. I’m not afraid of any man.” But I am afraid of this one.

Author’s Bio:

Lila Shaw is the pen name for a wee hours author of erotica and erotic romance. She adores writing about strong-willed women and the clever, charming (and well-endowed) men who love them. She believes if you can’t occasionally laugh at human foibles, and especially the physical aspects of love, you’re taking life far too seriously … unless the condom breaks, then you have every right to fret. Lila lives in the Portland, OR area with her family. www.lilashaw.com

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Buy Links

 

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#TeaseMeTuesday

In honor of my erotic horror short about to get a new lease on life in Cruentus Libri’s “Horror-tica,” I give you a glimpse of Dahlia and Jake the Jerk getting it on…

 

Excerpt from “Dirty Dahlia” by Kimber Vale

The dress was over her head.  Her voluptuous tits bounced out of the folded fabric, dolled up in a lacy pink bra with matching panties. He turned her around to check out her backside in the thong, slapping her sweet ass for good measure. She shrieked, but it was laced with laughter. The snow-white cheek transformed to a red hand before his eyes and a sanguine haze crept into his periphery. He recognized it; a cloud of hate fed by brutality that invaded his vision, propelling him toward increasingly sadistic measures. It was better than any high he knew.

She was facing him again, guiding his hand to the wet crotch of her panties. Rubbing him up and down the moist fabric. He slid beyond the barrier with his fingers, into her slick folds, pushing inside her roughly as she groaned against his mouth. Her hands reached inside his pants and she squeezed his cock almost painfully as she dragged it out of his fly. She liked it rough. No doubt. Jake pulled a heavy breast out of her bra, flicked the pink nipple brutally with thumb and forefinger and felt her body tighten against him, stretched like a guitar string about to snap.

-Kimber

 


“Horror-tica” Coming Soon!

My story, ‘”Dirty Dahlia,” is going to be reprinted in Cruentus Libri’s “Horror-tica.”  I’m excited to be excited by the scary smut that is sure to be in this book.  Plans are for a Spring release.

DSC_1269

DSC_1269 (Photo credit: Dexter Legaspi)

In the meantime, here is the TOC for this horrifically sexy gem:

‘Spectrophilia’ by Aaron Runyon
‘The World You Made For Me’ by Jennifer Loring
‘Dirty Dahlia’ by Kimber Vale
‘Unearthed’ by Chris Roberston
‘Blood Lust’ by Essel Pratt
‘Plastic’ by Joseph A. Pinto
‘The Passionate Possession’ by Naching T. Kassa
‘The Hunt’ by C.M. Exposite
‘The Circle’ by Kevin G. Bufton
‘Oral’ by Matt Moody
‘Fan Fiction’ by Brandon Cracraft and Anah Rose
‘Plaything’ by Jay Wilburn
‘Emasculation’ by Deb Eskie
‘Young Girls Are Coming to Ajo’ by Ken Goldman
‘Serial Peeper’ by Allen Dusk
‘Trouser Snake’ by Sheri White

-Kimber


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