A very productive night

Naomi and I rock.
We rock like a Cracker Barrel Porch full of cranky old men.

We got three submissions off tonight.
One for Ellora's Cavemen Anthologies and two novels.

I feel...very odd. As if I've just run off a cliff and not quite noticed it's no longer under my running feet.

Finally here!

$3
Frosted Hearts is available from Phaze!
Blurb: In this follow-up to Collared Hearts, artist Anthony and gallery owner Josh endure the trials of the Christmas holiday - from family squabbles to snowy accidents - with their passionate, kinky play to make the holidays a bit brighter.

Will Scarlet's Song

20,322 / 50,000 (40.6%)

The people craned and stretched, for in the middle of the guard was a cart. Tied to the cart, with a noose already around his neck, rode Will Scarlet wearing only a shirt and a crown of oak leaves, the mark of a traitor to the crown.

He looked at the crowd, searching each face. Although some pitied him and some looked at him sorrowfully, he didn't see the faces he sought. His heart sank like a plummet of lead, but he refused to show this.

Instead, he sang. If he was to die this day, he would teach all of Nottingham a new song. They would sing it long after they had forgotten him and it would set the Sheriff's teeth on edge each time heard it. Head held high, he sent his voice ringing over the crowd.
“The sheriff of fair Nottingham
doth tax his good folk full sore
But Robin Hood has tweaked his nose
Fie on Phillip the Fumbler!

He sets the men about the gate.
He sets them at his door.
Still he cannot catch the rogue,
Fie on Phillip the Fumbler!

He spends too much time in the stable there
Along beside the hostler
Lucky for him, the mare does not talk
Fie on Phillip the Fumbler!

He taxes folk upon their bread
He taxes them their beer
But Robin Hood will steal it back
Fie on Phillip the Fumbler!”

By the second verse, the more daring rascals were singing along with the chorus. When he finished the first time, he began again. Half the young men, already merry on beer, took it up.

Bess and Little John

10,598 / 50,000 (21.2%)

FOLLOWING is PG-13


“You're so large anyone would know you on sight. John Little, called Little John, second in command of the outlaws,” Bess turned the name over in her mouth for a moment. They strolled by mossy bank, all overhung with willows.

Little John leaned down and whispered, “Not little at all. Not anywhere.”

Bess gasped, her eyes large and her mouth a round O of shock. She smacked his arm, barely a tap. “You're naughty!”

John registered no pain, but gave her wide and merrily wicked grin. “Are you naughty, Bess?” He stopped them under a willow with wythes that grew so think none could see them.

Seeing they were curtained in, as certainly as if they had been hidden in the little anteroom of the palace with the velvet drapes, Bess beckoned Little John down and whispered. “Wicked as the day is long and more versed in the carnal arts than you can imagine. I went on Crusade after all.”

Little John scratched his great shaggy head. “What was a lady doing on a crusade?”

Bess laughed and settled herself on a tussock of grass. “Have you not heard how Queen Eleanor took a whole hoard of us? She dressed her maids as Amazons and rode topless half-way to Damascus.”

John sank down beside her, his eyes huge at the thought of the Queen and her maids riding bare-breasted across the continent.

“And how naughty are you, Johnny?” Bess teased.

He caught her round the waist again and kissed her. She opened beneath him, letting him go deep into her mouth. He crushed her closer and she only kissed him the harder, her own passions ablaze.

Bess clung to him, mindful of the job she'd done in her braes earlier that no erection would betray her to Little John until she was ready. When he let go of her mouth to look into her face, she breathed, “Yes, oh John, yes.”

He gave a lopsided grin behind his beard. “Oh, you are a naughty girl.”

Bess laughed. “Oh yes, I am. This is a fine and private place. I'll show you all my wickedness if you desire.”

JulNoWriMo

5,802 / 50,000 (11.6%)

A sample:
Marion brushed her hair, thinking on the oddities of the day. Bess had already retired. She heard a bird call from the balcony, but surely no chickadee was abroad at this late hour.

She set the hairbrush aside and hurried out. A cloaked figure hovered at the edge of the balcony. She withdrew in fright. The handsome young butcher pulled back his hood and clung to the rail, entangled in the ivy that grew on the tower.

“Mad and merry butcher, you take an unwarranted chance with your neck.” She looked down, knowing it was many feet to the ground.

He smiled at her, his teeth white within his yellow beard. “A worthy risk to finally see my lady this close.” He took one hand of hers and kissed it.

Marion gasped. “Caution! Both hands on the rail or the vine. I would not see you fall.” She stepped closer and did not try taking his hand from hers. “'Twould be a shame to lose you before I know your name.”

He swung up, throwing his long legs in their green hose over the rail, and landing on his feet before her. He favored her with a proper bow. His voice was sweet as the birds in the morning as he said, “Robin, my lady. I am Robin.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgment. “My lord Locksley,” she said, using his proper title. She offered her hand again. “Lady Marion FitzRoy.”

He took it and kissed it again, pausing to breathe over her wrist. “So soft. I knew you would be.”

“My lord Nottingham does not allow me out. Or I'd have been down for a kiss from a good tight butcher.”

“I didn't coax you well enough to sneak out then. I tried my best.” Robin looked entirely crestfallen.

Marion took his other hand with her free one. “Please, my lord, understand, I am locked in. Bess is allowed out, but my uncle, the king, says naught should happen to me. The war goes poorly. Alas, Bess is a poor messenger.”

Robin laughed. “Shall I remedy that?” He drew her closer and wrapped his arms around her waist.
She gave him a saucy look and a wicked smile. “Have you still three pennyworths of meat about you? For it was fine beef.”

Robin sighed. “Only a bit of kidney, too squashed to sell. I was going to pass it to a beggar as I left town.”
“Then allow me to pay you for it.” She slid her arms around his neck. “And in full.”

News and a contest

Ellora's Cave just announced their Summer print sched.

"Raising the Dead" is going to be part of Trick or Treats 3.
A real book in a real bookstore! *bounce!*



AND!

If you want to win a copy of "Five Time Loser"
send in a made-up CB handle for yourself
or just go to http://www.angelsparrow.com/contest.html

This is a sexy little paranormal. Elisa Rolle reviewed it here

I'm doing JulNoWriMo, and nicely

3,800 / 50,000 (7.6%)

Excerpt:

Robin hurried out of the gates of Nottingham town, his purchases slung on his back. Will Scarlet tucked the lump of bread and cheese he was nibbling back into his wallet and fell into step with his long-legged leader, who whistled a snatch of a bawdy tune he'd heard that day.

"You show your face too boldly in the town,” Will chided. “You'll not whistle half so jauntily when the hangman cuts your air with his hempen necklace.”

Robin slung an arm over Will's shoulders. “The morn is fair, the air is sweet, and yet you are fretting again?”

Will sighed. “How can I not? Your capers leave with without a moment's peace. Has not the Sheriff who lives in the castle you passed not a stone's throw from sworn to hang all seven score of us and you higher than the rest?”

"He doesn't scare me,” declared bold Robin.

"He scares me enough for both of us,” Will replied. He took a long drink from the skin of good sack he carried. He offered the wine to Robin who had a drink and passed it back.

"I've proven myself more clever, time and again,” Robin boasted and laughed, sending it ringing among the trees.

Will shook his head, a grim look on his face. “Hard to laugh hanging, my merry master.”

Robin grinned and caught him around the waist. “Will, Will, my dour conscience, I don't see a noose around my neck yet.”

"Not yet, but you take too many chances.”

"If we are not bold, how will we be taken seriously?” Robin demanded.

"Yet if we step too boldly, we will saunter into their hands. And you should not walk through the town with your naked face”

Robin embraced Will, holding him tightly. “Never stop being my conscience, dearest Will. I need you.”

Will smiled up at him. “Come, let's see what awaits us back in the wood. What did you learn today, bold Robin?”

"I think I did see that lovely maid.”

Will feigned shock, pressing a hand to his chest and staggering backward a step. “A maid? Our fair Robin's eye has been caught by a maid? Will wonders never cease!”

Robin cuffed him lightly about the head, grinning. “She's lovely, Will. But under our dear sheriff's protection.”

"Oh indeed?” Will raised his eyebrows. “Tell me of this maid you saw? For I thought that sort was much more my hunting preserve than yours.”

"I have hunted your course before, Will Scarlet, and I may hunt it yet again. Oh her lips...” He trailed away thoughtfully. “Her lips are lovely. As lovely as yours, my dear Will, although you keep them from me.” Robin ran one finger over Will's very full mouth, the one that sang so sweetly he charmed merchants out of their best wares and maidens out of their virtue.

Will rolled his eyes. “Robin, you know I love you and you know as well we lie together poorly.”

Robin took his hand from the soft lips. “Of course. I know. Still...” He touched Will's mouth again and stroked his face. “I still want. I don't expect anything of you.”

Will stretched up and pecked Robin on the cheek. “As if you have not seventy score others to slake yourself upon.”

Robin pulled him close. “But my Will is always my most trusted.”

“Aye, your own sweet Will. Which you have whether we lie together or not!” Will laughed at his own joke, and Robin joined in, for as chief of the outlaws in Sherwood, his will was the law of the forest.