Cheyenne Blue's Blog, page 6

Fenced-In Felix

Happy 16 November, folks.  The date doesn’t mean anything to you? Well, maybe it’s your birthday (happy birthday), or anniversary, or the day you managed to eat oysters without closing your eyes and not thinking about them sliding their way down  your gullet all alive alive oh.

To me, 16 November means that the third book in my “Girl Meets Girl” series, Fenced-In Felix is here and available.  That’s Felix above, on the left side of the cover, with her salt-and-pepper plait and serious face. And that’s her love-interest, Josie, on the right side with her wild hair and string of beads and big happy smile. And below is Josie’s horse, Flame, in an outback landscape. But is she Josie’s horse?

Like the previous two books in the series, Never-Tied Nora and Not-So-Straight Sue, Fenced-In Felix is a standalone novel that shares characters with the previous two books. So you don’t need to have read the previous books first, although of course I very much hope that you have or you will.

Felix is a story of outback Australia and the self-sufficient people who live there. It’s a story of rural life and friendships, horses, tourism, loving and losing, stepping outside of your comfort zone, campfire damper, quiet rides at dawn, snakes in the shower, love and trust, and love and sex.

Here’s the blurb and below that an excerpt:

Felix Jameson is working hard to get her outback hospitality business off the ground. Building cabins, leading trail rides and enticing tourists means she hasn’t much time for distractions—and that includes romance. But when she meets Josie, a drifter who picks up casual work as she goes, Felix is intrigued and attracted.  Josie asks Felix to board her horse, Flame, and Felix is delighted. Not only can she use the extra money, but it means she will see a lot more of Josie. Felix finds Josie fits in well into her life, and for the solitary Felix there’s finally the possibility of romance. But there’s something suspicious about Flame, who bears an uncanny resemblance to a valuable stolen racehorse. Felix knows she is falling hard for Josie, but is Josie all she seems, or is she mixed up in shady dealings?

I had two horses to do to Josie’s one, so she finished first. She came over and rested her arms on the edge of Smoke’s stall.

“You’ve got plenty of space here. You could have half a dozen more horses.”

I bent to brush dust from Smoke’s foreleg. “Barn space, yes, but the land is poor. It barely supports the six I have now.”

“How many have you had in the past?”

“Nine was the maximum, back in the days when I took youngsters for breaking. But that was during the good years, when we had proper wet seasons.”

“Word is this year could see some good rains.”

“Let’s hope. Can never rely on it though. I’ve seen the land go for years without real rain, and I’ve seen it under a metre of flood water.”

I straightened. Josie leant on the door, fiddling with the thong on her hat.

“I want to ask you something,” she said. “Not sure what you’ll say.”

“Oh?” I tried to appear open. In truth, I had no idea what she wanted.

“I like it in Worrindi. The pub’s a good place to be. Nice people.” Her mouth crooked up at one corner. The motion was fascinating. “Believe me, that is not always the case.” Her fingers worried at the thong on the hat. “Anyway, I thought I’d stay around. A while. Maybe a lot longer, if it works out. I told you I have a horse?”

I nodded, my gaze on the restless movement of her fingers.

“I’d like to have her near. I was given her. Otherwise there’s no way I’d have bought a horse, not with my lifestyle. But she’s mine, and I’d like to have her somewhere close. Her name’s Flame.”

Flame. It conjured up a picture of a delicate, feisty horse, quick as lightning with movements of fire. But as tempting as the picture was, I knew I had to say no.

“She sounds like a beaut horse. But honestly, Josie, I don’t think I can have her here. I just don’t have the grazing. Most likely, I’m going to have to buy hay before long, and that’s very expensive.”

“I’ll pay for her agistment—I didn’t mean for you to keep her for nothing. I’ve thought about what I can afford.” She named a figure that was generous.

The money was tempting. With the extra, I could finish up the second cabin.

I shook my head. “That’s a good offer, but it’s more than you’d pay at other places. But I still don’t think I could do it if I have to buy hay.”

“If it comes to that, how about I purchase the hay for her?”

I ducked down to Smoke’s forelegs again to give myself time to think. The dollars marching through my head beat a compelling rhythm, but before I fell on Josie’s neck shrieking “yes!” I had to give this more thought.

“I’m a thirty-minute drive from Worrindi. It would cost you to drive out here, and you may not be able to come that often. I’m sure there is somewhere closer to town where you could keep her. If you want, I’ll ask—”

“No.” She leant forwards, and her face took on a strange intensity. “I want her to be here with you. If you’ll take her, that is. She’s special. I don’t want to trust her to just anyone. I can pay, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not. I trust you.” And I did. I wasn’t just saying the words. For all her nomadic ways, Josie seemed like someone I could rely on. Maybe I’d wake up one morning with a horse that didn’t belong to me and no way of contacting the owner and no money coming in—I’d heard of that happening to others—but I didn’t think so.

“I can give you a month up front. I’ll transfer it to your bank if you agree.”

It was a lot of money for someone earning minimum wage less board in a pub. Maybe she had money put aside.

“If you take her, I’ll know she’ll be well looked after. Cared for. So many places just throw a horse in a paddock and forget about it until the next bill’s due.” Her head ducked, and she glanced at me from under her hat. “And it would give me an excuse to come out here. To see you.”

It wasn’t fair of her to play the flirtation card with someone who was obviously interested.

I stood up again, with Smoke between us, and rested my hands on her withers. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay? I can’t give you an answer now. I need to think about grazing, hay, and things like that.” And about you wanting to see me again. “Will Flame be okay in with the others? I don’t think it will work if she has to be by herself.”

“I’m sure she will be. Thanks, Felix, for at least thinking about it.”

“I’ll let you know.”

She nodded, and with a quick smile, she walked off.

I watched her go, watched the sway of her backside under those mauve pants, and tried not to think about the fact that she wanted to spend time with me.

Fenced-In Felix is available now from Ylva Publishing. Watch out for the book from 30 November 2016 on Amazon and usual retailers.

Sue Goes Wild and Free

That’s my new novel, Not-So-Straight Sue, and today Sue is on general release over at the usual suspects: the Amazons, Smashwords and so on. And of course, at my publisher, Ylva Publishing, where Sue’s waiting patiently for you to read her. Sue’s out in the world, spread a long way from the little corner of outback Queensland that is her home.

I’m celebrating today with a glass of wine and naked camel burgers for dinner. I’ve never eaten camel and I have no idea what it tastes like, but I’m about to find out. The naked part isn’t the dress code (it’s sort of sticky when you drop the relish); it’s just a burger without a bun, a camel burger with your favourite topping (blue cheese and red onion for me) on a huge wilderness of salad greens.

If you’re curious about Not-So-Straight Sue, you can read about the book on Harper Bliss’s blog.  My good friend and all-around awesome author, Harper, was kind enough to let me loose on her blog today.  You can find out what she thinks about the book, as well as read an excerpt.

In the meantime, check out these links to purchase Not-So-Straight Sue. I would love it if you did!

Ylva Publishing

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com.au

Amazon.de

Amazon.ca

Smashwords

I still call Australia Home

Today, I’m once again blogging over at the website of my friend and fellow writer, the incomparable Lisabet Sarai.  Lisabet always has interesting stuff on her blog, Beyond Romance, and hosts many fine people. She’s well worth checking out.

Today, I’m blogging about where I call home. (Australia! The dusty brown land of sharp vowels and too much beer and the most bloody awesome scenery.)

If you mosey over there in the next few days and leave a comment about where you call home, you will be entered into the draw to win a copy of my new novel, Not-So-Straight Sue, which is set in Outback Queensland.

Check me out. Eh.

 

Not-So-Straight Sue

I seem to have been sitting on this book forever, but it’s finally here. Not-So-Straight Sue is now available directly from Ylva Publishing. It’s a story about coming out, friendship, lawyers, doctors, the Australian outback, dogs, family, small towns, ex-girlfriends, finding your place in life, horses, rural life, wine-drinking, stripteases, campervans, star gazing, horse riding, Waltzing Matilda, and of course love and sex. Lots of love and sex.

This is the second book in my Girl Meets Girl series. The first, Never-Tied Nora, featured Australian lawyer, Sue, and American doctor, Moni, as the secondary characters. This is their story. The series intertwines characters, but each book stands alone. You don’t need to have read Never-Tied Nora first. The third in this series, Fenced-In Felix will be out next month too.

Want a free copy of Not-So-Straight Sue?  If so, hop on over to Women and Words right now. Leave a comment and you’ll be entered into a draw for a free copy. Besides. It’s Women and Words. You were probably going there anyway!

Right now, you can check out Not-So-Straight Sue on Ylva’s site, and in a couple of weeks you’ll find it on Amazon.

“Not-So-Straight Sue” is available now from Ylva Publishing and from 2 November 2016 on Amazon:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Here’s the blurb and below that, an excerpt.

Sorry, I’m straight.” Those words, accompanied by a smile, were the ones Sue Brent used to turn down women. But the truth was buried so deep that even her best friend, Nora, didn’t know that Sue was queer. Sometimes, Sue even managed to convince herself. The only person in London who’d seen through her façade was Moni, an American tourist.

When a date with a friend’s brother goes disastrously wrong, Sue has to confront the truth about herself. Leaving London, she returns to Australia to take up the reins in an outback law practice. Back in the country of her birth, she is finally able to accept who she is, including facing Denise, the woman who burned her so badly years ago and set her on the path of pretence. But it’s not until Moni arrives in Queensland to work for the Flying Doctors that Sue is finally able to see a path to happiness. However, as things start to go her way, Denise arrives in Mungabilly Creek, begging a favour that might destroy Sue’s new relationship.

I parked the campervan in the driveway and left it running a moment. There was a slight knock in the engine and a layer of red dust on the dash. It needed a service, which meant a trip to the Isa. I turned it off, went around to the passenger side, grabbed my wheelie case of files, and dragged it, clatter, clatter, up the uneven path to the veranda steps with Ripper at my heels.

It was getting dark, but it was still hot. My shirt was sticking to my back, despite the camper’s air con. That probably needed a re-gas.

“About time you got home.” The voice, low, feminine, and decidedly American, drifted down from the veranda above me. “It’s hot as hell here, I can’t find the switch for your air con, and all your beer is gone. I was about to go to the hotel for a six pack.”

I knew that voice. I hadn’t heard it in over three years except over a Skype connection, but it was unmistakable. Moni. How like her to turn up unannounced. I dropped the case, which hit the path with a thunk, and I took the veranda steps two at a time. My heart thudded in my chest, and I didn’t want to stop and analyse the euphoric feeling that flooded me, that made my fingers tingle and my mouth stretch into the biggest shit-eating grin. She was here. That was what mattered, and I couldn’t wait to see her.

She met me at the top of the steps, and I flung my arms around her and gave her a big hug. She hugged me back, and I was so wound up that I was about to kiss her, really kiss her, when she extricated herself and took a step back. Right. The Moni I’d been imagining, the one that might possibly be my girlfriend, was in my head. I hadn’t actually mentioned it to her yet.

“So you’re glad to see me, huh? Things must be quiet around here.”

I took a good look at her. Same small curvy woman, with big, big hair, although now it was somewhat squashed by the Akubra hat she wore. Khaki shorts that didn’t quite go with her purple singlet and thongs on her feet. If it weren’t for the accent and the pale skin, I would have taken her for a local. She was smiling, and there was a sparkle in her eyes that said she too was pleased to see me.

“It is. Very quiet. I see you found your way here.”

She flapped a hand, and only then I noticed the old Holden parked on the patch of dust out the back that was supposed to be a lawn. “I have GPS in that car, and you’re the only lawyer for miles. I saw the shingle, even though it needs repainting and doesn’t have your name on it anyway. Found the steps up here, and as you don’t lock the house, I found the beer fridge.”

There were two empty tinnies on the veranda rail. She was right, there was no more. I needed to go to the Royal for beer.

“Who’s going to break in around here? Apart from you, that is.”

I went down and retrieved my case from the path, dragged it thump, thump up the steps, and put it inside the door. I’d unpack it later.

Moni gestured to a daypack left haphazardly against the door. “I hope you don’t mind me turning up without telling you. I figured you’d be here, and I thought it would be fun to surprise you.”

“It’s Friday. I have no plans at all for the weekend, other some experimental cooking and wine drinking. The wine drinking isn’t experimental though. Just the cooking. Stay as long as you want.”

Ripper, who’d been investigating the veggie patch in case it had changed since morning, came scampering up the stairs and made a beeline for Moni. She bent to pat him, scratching him behind the ears, his favourite place.

“I have to be back in the Isa on Tuesday. Can I stay until then?” Her face had a wistfulness about it when she straightened. “I’ve been missing the company of existing friends. Don’t get me wrong—I’m making friends, meeting lovely people, but it will be good to be with someone who already knows me.”

I pondered her words. I’d known Moni for one day back in London, and we’d had a sporadic connection since. But in that time, we’d shared our lives, gotten to know each other. Part of me was warm and mushy at the idea that I was the person she wanted to relax with. “Of course. You don’t need to ask.”

Sunday Snog for Haiti – Lisabet Sarai

From Lisabet Sarai:

In response to the devastation of Haiti by Hurricane Matthew, I am running a charity Sunday Snog.

For each person who leaves a comment, I will donate one dollar to Oxfam America’s hurricane relief fund.

I’m also giving away a copy of the featured book Rough Weather (which happens to have a Haitian hero) to one randomly selected commenter.

Check out Lisabet’s post here and leave a comment for Haiti.

Performance Review

It is that time of year again in my day job. Everyone’s least favourite hour in their working day.  No, not 8:00am on a Monday, but performance review time. Two pages of inane questions to which you have to answer what is basically the expected path. You can’t say what you really think. You can’t make a joke and  move on.  After all, the annual pay rise at least partially depends on it.

Before I go further, I’ll say that the last couple of years have been a cruise for this. I work for a great person, and the firm is pretty relaxed. Performance reviews are not the black day that they have been on occasion in the past.  But despite that, the form is still sitting there, demanding to be completed.

You can’t talk yourself down too much, as that piece of paper sits on your file. So you can’t say you’re crap at teamwork and would rather work alone in the corner office with the door closed.  Neither can you say your career goals for next year are more money, every Friday afternoon off, and a parking space out the back. You have to use words like promotion and company values and career driven. But the horror if you rate yourself highly only to be shot down in flames.

As a writer too, we have a de facto performance assessment every time a reader leaves a review, and like workplace ones,  reviews can’t possibly be all good all the time. That’s okay. As in the workplace, not every reader will like what you do. Poor reviews are a necessary evil.

But what if, as writers, we had to do our own performance review? Rate our strengths, our weaknesses. Areas needing improvement. How can I rate myself for my ability to put commas in the right places, for the proper use of Chicago Manual of Style, and hanging prepositions?  Then there’s character development, pacing, overarching plot, plot holes and lack thereof. Then the teamwork – does the writer play well with others? Does she tweet her fellow writers’ good reviews, comment on blog posts, stump up a blog post for her publisher when required?

What if our editors ticked off on those boxes? Now that’s a scary thought. No pay rise for this little black duck.

I think my writer’s performance review would mark me down for repeating words, woeful use of commas, and incredible ability to write sentences in any number of tenses except the simple past. Maybe, if my editor was in a good mood and had had her coffee that morning, she’d mark me up for my ability to set the mood of a story, characterisation, and a pleasing undercurrent of humour.

I wouldn’t fare so well in the teamwork section. Sure, I like to give shout outs to other writers, promote their releases, and occasionally review their books. I can retweet with the best of them. But my lack of a Facebook account… ooooh. Not good.

Book sales. Um…. I’ll tick the middling box. Definitely not the best, but I don’t think I’m the worst either.

Writers, readers, reviewers… How would you go if you had a performance review for this?

 

Photo by Nenetus http://www.freedigitalphotos.net

Order Up Blog Tour

Welcome to my stop on the Order Up blog tour.  I’ve taken the baton from the amazing Jove  Belle, and I’ll leave it here on the kitchen counter while I write my post.

The first thing  to say about Order Up before I dive into my post, is that you can’t have too many anthologies combining food and lesbian romance and sex. The other one that comes to mind right now, is the first anthology edited by the winning team of R.G. Emanuelle and Andi Marquette and that’s All You Can Eat. Which was a Lammy finalist. Deservedly so.

I had a story in All You Can Eat, and so I’m doubly delighted to be here again in Order Up.

My story is about bunya bunya nuts. Oh, right, I hear you saying. Never heard of ’em.  I’m not surprised. They’re not shelved in the snack aisle between the chilli lime peanuts and the salt and pepper pistachios. Bunya bunya nuts are from a pine tree native to south east Queensland, Australia. Nowhere else. It’s a tall and gracious tree, with a domed top, that makes it look like one of those wooden things you buy at markets to twirl in the honey pot. That is not a euphemism. No, it’s absolutely not.  That’s the trees in the photo above.

The pine cones are HUGE. The size of your head. Each cone contains the nuts, up to forty of them if you’re lucky. They grow at near the top of the tree, close to the trunk.  The most practical way to collect them is to go out in late January or February to where there are trees and look on the ground.  A friend has a bunya tree in her garden. Whenever she’s gardening in the summer, she keeps an ear open for the sound of branches snapping. If she hears it, she runs like mad, dashing out from under the tree before the nut hits the ground. She’s had a few near misses. Another friend from interstate parked her car underneath a tree in January.  The car was a write off. A 10kg cone falling 30 metres onto an aluminum roof can have that effect.

The nuts are important to indigenous people of south east Queensland. They are a very nutritious food, hugely calorific, and the surplus was often buried to be eaten in the months ahead. The Bunya Mountains (where my story is mostly set) was a place of gathering and talks and peaceful times during the bunya harvest. Today, the ridge of the Bunya Mountains is a national park.

I get bunya nuts from friends, or from local people who have trees and who will often put the cones by the roadside for people to take.  I’ve also gathered them in forests, knocked on doors to ask if I can take nuts that are obviously unwanted, and very occasionally bought them at roadside stalls.

They’re a lot of work to process though. Sure, you can roast them on a fire, as my characters do in my story, but for less immediate use, the best way is to boil them, crack them and pry out the kernel. That’s hard work, best done on a warm evening, with a brilliant sunset, good company and a bottle of wine.

It was a good crop this year, and I have bags of them in the freezer. I make pesto, add them to casseroles, grind them up to a flour and use them in pastry. They are starchy, not oily, and taste like a cross between a chestnut and a giant pine nut. The other day, I found a recipe I’m going to try, which involves caramelising them, putting them in a jar and covering them with Bundaberg rum. I can’t wait to try that one.

You’ll find my story “Bunya Bunya” in Order Up: A Menu of Lesbian Romance and Erotica” which is out now from the ever awesome Ylva Publishing.  You can buy the anthology direct from Ylva, or from Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk, of course Amazon.com.au, Smashwords and the other usual suspects.

Before I pick the baton back up from the kitchen bench, and hand it to Brey Willows to talk about her story “God’s Tamales”, here’s an excerpt from my story “Bunya Bunya”.

Once we are away from the Queensland coastal strip, the land stretches in front of us. It’s all so lush and green by the coast, and even inland the lushness continues, for it’s the wet season. But there’s rat’s tail grass in an unbroken wave by the roadside, and prickly pear chokes the dry forest areas. “Needs a fire through,” Tianna says, and presses the throttle so that the rental car surges forward.

We reach her mother’s place at dusk, just as the lazy kangaroos stir for the evening, leaping in front of the car in huge bounds. There’s a flock of cockatoos in the sky, thick with impending rain.

I ask Tianna what I should call her mother.

“Aunty,” says Tianna, and I nod. It’s a respectful address, and it’s appropriate.

Her mother—Aunty, I must think of her—is small and spreading, nothing like Tianna, who is wiry and intense. Her mother hugs her, murmuring into her hair, and while Aunty’s greeting to me is friendly enough, I sense a wariness directed at me, the woman who stole her child away, who keeps her in the city, although that’s not true. Tianna keeps herself in the city.

The house is small and untidy, and there are dogs outside, skinny ones with waving tails. They greet Tianna ecstatically, but eye me with caution. A bit like Aunty. We sit at the table and Aunty goes down to the takeaway and comes back with battered fish and chips. We eat with our fingers, and it’s like home, all our greasy vinegar-slicked fingers reaching for the last chip.

“We go out to the mountains tomorrow,” Aunty says, and it’s the first thing she’s said in a while. “Got the ute packed and ready.”

Tianna nods, and Aunty goes off to bed, leaving us on the tiny veranda, where we can see the stars, so much bigger, so much more intense than in the city. Apart from the occasional bark of a dog, and the scurry of something small, the night is silent. Tianna goes off to make tea and hands it to me, strong and black. We sit together on the bench, and our free hands find each other across the worn cushion.

“We’ll be camping tomorrow,” says Tianna. “You up for it?”

I nod, although she can’t see me in the darkness. I feel this time together is a test, of our love, of our relationship. How the gubbah fits in. I determine that whatever she throws at me, I’ll take it without complaint. I don’t even make a joke about my hairdryer, although I think it.

She puts her tea down, and leans in and kisses me, and her lips are tart with vinegar, but her breath is the same sweetness it always is, and the way her hand grasps mine and how she pushes herself against me, is the same.

 

I am not a city person

I am so not a city person. Sure, I’ve spent a lot of my life in cities–work has a way of doing that to you–but equally, I’ve lived in small towns, medium towns, and spent a lot of time on the road travelling. But where I’m happiest, in a zen-at-one with-the-world, embracing-the-landscape sort of way, is where things are hot and dry and there’s not many people. The space. The dryness. The sweep of stars at night. Being able to see to the horizon and then some.

Many people seem to get that from the sea. But unless you’re on the ocean in a small boat, coastal areas around the world tend to be some of the most populated. And it is my nightmare to be stuck on a small boat with a bunch of people and nowhere to escape. I’m not that good a swimmer.

My favorite landscapes around the world are the dry and sparsely populated ones. Extremadura in Spain. The Sonoran desert in Arizona. The Mojave Desert in California. And of course outback Australia. That’s not to say I don’t love cities (in small doses): I adore Montreal, Melbourne, Riga, Denver, Cesky Krumluv in the Czech Republic. And my love-hate relationship with Los Angeles is a source of constant bewilderment. The Colorado Rockies feel like home–indeed, they were home for several years. Ireland, where it’s absolutely impossible to be away from people, is somewhere I love. In Ireland, if you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing, like having a pee in a field, or sneaking over the stream to check out the standing stones on the other side, or simply hanging off a gate looking at the ocean, someone will always come along for a chat. Even if you’re hauling up your pants at the time.

The last couple of weeks, we did a road trip through the edge of outback Australia. Brisbane to Adelaide in a campervan, about 3500 kilometres of road, through outback towns and settlements, through dry brown landscape, and the ruins of abandoned homesteads, saltbush, and red, red dirt that is outback Australia.  We took the inland route–no crowded coast for us–and followed the Darling River, through the old towns, the historic townships, the decaying and deserted places, the settlements that are just a pub. Or a couple of buildings. Each night, we camped quietly in the bush. No campgrounds, just a place to pull over away from the road. No one ever came past, even if we were only a couple of hundred metres from the major highway. Not many people drive at night: too dangerous with all the wildlife around. We’d sit outside the van with a glass of wine, and cook simple food, and listen to the night. Or each other.

It was a short trip, only ten days, but it was wonderful. A total recharge of the soul from the boots up.

In one of those strange coincidences, I had the final edits back for my second novel to go through. That novel is about (among other things) a woman in a campervan in the outback. So there I was in a campervan in the outback editing my novel about a woman in a campervan in the outback. Papers covered in red ink everywhere.

It was very satisfying.  That novel, Not-So-Straight Sue, will be out from Ylva Publishing later this year, as will my third novel (also set in outback Queensland) Fenced-In-Felix. 

I’m planning a proper outback trip in July. That will be to western Queensland and the Northern Territory, the dead red heart of the continent. I’ll probably be doing some edits for Felix around that time. I can’t wait.

The weekend

Ever had a weekend when nothing particularly earthshaking happens, but it’s an excellent weekend anyway?

First there was brekky by the surf with dear friends. Then there was coffee and banana cake with my favorite feline, then there was 200 words written between tidying house and sunset drinks that started at 5pm and went on until 10.30 (note to self: next time include a dinner invite).

Sunday morning saw mist in the valley, and sunshine breaking through. Coffee from a local plantation, a decent block of writing time that added nearly 2000 words to my manuscript, which is Fenced-In Felix, the third novel in my “Girl meets Girl” series from Ylva.

The avocados are finally ripening. The pawpaw is not, but hey, I love green pawpaw salad. The lettuce is growing, the parsley has died, the eggplants are on the edge of bitter, but there’s limes falling off the tree and I think I have half a bottle of tequila somewhere, and you know what that means.

Margarita time.

Order Up

Back, what seems like a long, long time ago, but was probably only last year, I had a story in a fabulous anthology about food and romance and sometimes about sex.  Andi Marquette and R.G.Emanuelle co-edited All You Can Eat: a buffet of lesbian erotica and romance.  Here’s the stupendous cover, if you need a reminder.  What was so great about the antho (well, one of the things) was the originality of the stories and the meshing of the food and romance themes.  Also, each story ended with a recipe, and some of them were stupendous.  I still regularly cook one of those recipes most times I go camping, because it’s so easy and delicious and simple to cook on a rusty two-burner camp stove.  It’s Jae’s  Zucchini Alla Panna, if you want to know, and I hope I spelled that right, as I make it so often I don’t need to look up the recipe any more.

Andi and R.G. are now bringing out another food and romance anthology, Order Up: a menu of lesbian romance and erotica.  Once again I will have a story in it, which is very exciting.  Here’s the cover for that one.  Isn’t it fabulous?  Both books are published by Ylva Publishing.

My story is about bunya nuts, which are bush tucker here in south east Queensland where I live. I doubt many people will try my recipe–because you can only gather the nuts here in southeast Queensland in January, and they’re practically impossible to buy in the rest of Australia, let alone anywhere else in the world.  Maybe that’s not the point of including a recipe. Oops.  Oh well, I’ll just have to eat them for you. Om nom nom.