T.C. Mill's Blog, page 18
April 5, 2017
March 30, 2017
New Release–Wanderlust: a Literary Erotica Anthology
“Turn-ons include well-placed commas, devastating allusions, ten-dollar words, social commentary, moral ambiguity, alliteration.” As soon as I read the description on the website of MoFo Pubs, I knew this was somewhere I wanted to submit (fiction, that is).
The best turn-ons, the kind that weave the strongest spell, are those that engage your brain as well as your body, that serve up sensuality with flair. Such is what I try to deliver. I don’t see “literary erotica” as an oxymoron. For all the beliefs, emotions, sensations, anxieties, and rites of passage surrounding sex, it’s a strong contender for the most literary of topics. It certainly beats out taxes, though not necessarily death…
…and it may tie with travel. Discovering new places, or leaving the old ones behind; a hunger for different sights or sounds or tastes; short transactions or deeper exchanges with strangers you might never see again. And then there’s the logistics: carrying your baggage or finding somewhere to put it or forgetting it entirely, hoping your transportation doesn’t come to a halting crash, considering the sense of relief you might feel it it does–there’s a lot going on and going into your average case of Wanderlust.
I’m very excited to be part of this anthology for my first publication of 2017.
Wanderlust—a strong longing for or an impulse toward wandering.
The stories in this anthology explore the ramifications of wanderlust—with an emphasis on lust. Twelve tales of those who cannot stay still—whether by choice, curse, or circumstance. Men and women gripped by the impulse to wander, travel, explore the world—and explorations of the sexual encounters they have along the way.
The ebook is out in the Kindle store, iBooks, and Kobo, and a paperback version will become available through Amazon in April. Amazon will even provide an option to bundle the ebook with the paperback as a free add-on.
The first advance review of Wanderlust is 4.5 Stars from Samantha at the Book Owlery. She found “Soft, Rough” by yours truly “a very, very nice shock”* and has great things to say about the rest of the stories as well, describing rich veins of both the literary and the erotic.
Before closing off, I’m excited to hint at further appearances in future anthologies from MoFo. And if you’re a writer who also enjoys alliteration, allusions, and the frisson of a well-placed comma, not to mention another of those most literary topics, you might check out their open call for submissions featuring Religion and/or Sacrilege. It closes April 30th.
From “Soft, Rough”:
She napped away the rest of the afternoon on the couch and flew awake, hands hiked to claw, when the doorbell rang.
She unlocked the huge oak slab and pulled it back. Looked out at him. “It’s you.”
“It’s me. Your hair’s grown out.”
It had, enough that the tight curl was evident and hid the way her ears stuck out. Now if she woke in the night, she’d look in the dressing table mirror to the left of the bed and find a round-headed shape staring back at her. A shape she’d only belatedly recognize as herself. Probably a metaphor for her whole existence.
But he always recognized her right away, and more, he knew exactly what had changed. With a smile, she let him in.
January 21, 2017
Hello world!
I’m happy to say my new author’s website is up! New look for the new year! And hopefully better than ever!
Please pardon my dust as I update this website with content and links to stories. In the meantime, here’s a full list, with excerpts, of my work published in 2016.
January 6, 2016
A Last Touch of Grace
My new short story is out at Forbidden Fiction publishing! It’s not the first time my writing has combined sex and religion, but it is the first time I’ve included Roman collars and a vow of celibacy into the mix.
My own Catholic upbringing is probably innocent here–the idea for “A Last Touch of Grace” came after I watched a miniseries with a gorgeous fictional Irish priest*. Suddenly I wanted to write my own version. It took a number of years to complete the manuscript, always simmering at the back of my mind (I owe some of how the plot shaped up to conversations with my good friend “Hearts”). At first I wasn’t sure how to tell this story of childhood sweethearts reuniting and trying to reconcile their old promises with newer vows. One thing was certain: I knew Matthew’s introduction into the priesthood was rather bittersweet, and his friend and lover Iphigenia would ride to his rescue…or perhaps his downfall.
An excerpt to whet your appetite:
“And before he went into the Church, as they’d bargained, I vowed to him—because we had made our promise first, I vowed I would find him.”
Silence followed in which even she seemed not to dare speak further. Matthew, still helpless, leaned close to the grille, straining his ears.
“And I have, haven’t I?” she whispered at last.
He heard her low sigh, and then the rustle of cloth and dry skin as she rubbed her hands together in her lap. Familiar sounds, after enough years spent listening in this tight room. But they seemed suddenly new, transformed by the complete and baffling appearance—reappearance—of….
“Haven’t I?” she asked, her voice strained.
“Genie.” He breathed her name like it was the only thing he could do. Perhaps it was.
Her chair creaked as she shifted in it. “Nobody’s called me that for a long time. In fact, not since—”
“You should go.”
Iphigenia gasped, but recovered quickly. Her reply came with a snap like broken thread. “Aren’t you going to grant me absolution, Father?”
“Are there any sins you repent enough to warrant it?” Matthew tried to be as cruel as she was. Anything to drive her away, to end this.
“Maybe I have others to confess. Like blasphemy, shall I admit to that? That I would have you before God does? Not,” she continued, “that I’m really sorry for it, either.”
“Iphigenia, you can’t do this.”
“How could I do otherwise?”
Matthew gathered a breath. And then, because she would not leave, he did. He pushed open the door to the confessional and stumbled out.
He heard her muffled exclamation, then the creak of her door as she followed. Still in pursuit of him, as she had promised. The thought caused an odd, sharp pain in his chest. He turned to see her before he had time to gather himself.
Her mother had come from the south of the continent, a romance from her father’s Grand Tour. Iphigenia had her thick, dark hair and skin too rich a color for the pallid beauty most gentry preferred. So she’d never bothered straining for it—she and Matthew had spent long summer days by the stream in the woods, swimming, running along the mossy bank. Later she had taken to riding, and once she’d even convinced Matthew to climb in the saddle behind her. Perhaps she had ridden here. The end of her nose, where her tipped-back hat’s protection failed, was ruddy with sunburn. A familiar flaw. He caught himself before he smiled, and the pain beneath his heart twisted inward.
This small country parish church had Gothic pretensions. He stepped back into the narrow band of colored light cast by one of the high windows. She stepped forward into another one, crimson and azure light painting her white and green riding habit.
“You should go, Iphigenia.” If he truly wanted to hurt her, he should call her Miss Haworth. He knew that but he held back from saying it, at least for now. Not until he had to.
“I kept my promise. Do you not want to keep yours?” Her tongue darted across her lips, and the brightness in her eyes—so keen they were almost predatory—dimmed.
“I was a child,” Matthew said. “How could I mean it?”
“Did you mean it when your parents sold you?”
“They didn’t—But anyway, it was a long time ago.”
“Nine years,” she said, “five months, twelve days.” Her mouth twisted into something that wasn’t a smile. “I kept a diary.”
“Even I didn’t keep track of the number of days.”
“Well. That’s a difference between us.”
Matthew tried closing his eyes, but even when he wasn’t looking at her he could hear her voice. Its warmth. Her father’s gravelly, aristocratic drawl sweetened by a constant promise of laughter. Even now, he thought she might be ready to laugh—at herself, at him, at the ridiculous architecture of this church if nothing else.
“Maybe I am wrong,” Iphigenia said. “And if so, I’m sorry to trouble you. I don’t think I’m wrong, but I truly don’t want to—to make things worse for you. If I’m opening a wound that’s healed, tell me. If it’s not still raw and bleeding, then I know I ought to let it be.” A deep breath from her, while everything else around him was still silence. “Say it hurts you less than it hurts me, and I’ll go, Mattie.”
Behind his eyelids, wetness stung. He laughed at it. “Nobody’s called me by that name in a long time.”
When he knew tears wouldn’t drip, he looked at her. While speaking, Iphigenia had lowered her head, and now she raised it again to meet his eyes. He could never say who moved first. One of them took a step forward, then the other. They came close enough to whisper.
“It hurts,” he said. “Of course it does. But animals lash out in pain, Genie. Human beings have a choice.”
Standing between him and the door, she took a small step aside. Not far, but enough to give him a clear line of escape if he desired it. “I won’t steal a man away from God.”
“But you won’t let God steal him from you, either?”
Genie shook her head with a familiar twitch at the corner of her mouth. This was a real smile, or the promise of one. Gentle and sweet. She’d smiled like that before, when he was too young to really know what it meant.
He had vowed to marry the girl with that smile, to share the rest of their lives. They had thought it would mean swimming in that stream every summer, staying up roasting chestnuts on long winter nights, and his never needing to walk to her father’s house to borrow her books again.
“Tell me you meant it,” she said. “Tell me your vow was sincerely consented to, and I’ll go.”
***
For the full story, “A Last Touch of Grace” links and content notes are available on the Fantastic Fiction Publishing website and on my Stories page.
***
*The fictional Irish priest in question, in case you’re wondering how to picture Matthew, was Father Liam Phelan in The Hanging Gale. A very tragic miniseries that is very lacking in a romantic subplot for its priest. But Paul McGann is in it looking like a Botticelli painting with particularly lovely hair and sad eyes. All in all an inspiration my muse could never resist. And thanks again are due to Hearts, whose help was invaluable in overcoming that Catholic upbringing to understand a “priest kink.”
The post A Last Touch of Grace appeared first on T.C. Mill.
October 5, 2015
Be Rough With Love: “A Tender Thing” at Nerve Magazine
Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
If you’ll pardon my Shakespeare. But then, who says fans of the classics can’t have fun? In bed, or on the floor or against the wall, where she’s only too happy to push him.
This flash fiction is my first post as part of the Nerve writer’s network, and includes an original piece of art by Linaruble.
Everyone has weaknesses. He’s lucky enough to go to bed with his.
The post Be Rough With Love: “A Tender Thing” at Nerve Magazine appeared first on T.C. Mill.
June 20, 2015
Flash Sales for the Summer!
If you’re ready to stock up on beach reading (or retreating-to-the-air-conditioning reading), AllRomanceEbooks is ready to help. But–I’m not saying it’s a competition or anything, but–the New Smut Project might do you one better.
For today only, publishers across ARe have slashed prices 25%. It’s a great time to stock up on stories from Dreamspinner, Loose Id, Evernight Publishing, and many others!
My self-published stories and works from Dreamspinner are all 25% off today, June 20.
But that’s not all! The New Smut Project is having a flash sale of its own. And we’re doubling the discount–the ebooks for Between the Shores and Heart, Body, Soul are 50% off at ARe, and also at Amazon, Sellfy, and Smashwords! If you’d prefer a paperback version, both Between The Shores and Heart, Body, Soul at Createspace are $2 off each through use of coupon code 5MQV88KN.
Adriana Ravenlust says Between the Shores is “ among the best of all the erotica I’ve read, and that says something given how many books I’ve reviewed. I am particularly reminded of Red Velvet and Absinthe, one of my favorite collections from a few years ago, which features supernatural sex and romance. ” Mitzi Szereto’s paranormal erotica collection happens to have been one of my formative influences, so the compliment is brain-melting 
.
And again, Between the Shores and its twin anthology are 50% off this weekend. Together, they make up over 800 pages or 300,000 words of high-quality erotic short stories and novelettes.
What I’m saying is, there are a lot of great ways to fill your bookshelf today.
Enjoy yourselves!
May 8, 2015
Soft Petals: A Flash Fiction Collection
Is the plural flash fictions or flash fiction?
Either way, this collection has 9 stories, both original and reprints, for you to savor. It’s a mix of historicals, speculative fiction, and some images that are just timeless.
Content includes menage, F/M and M/M, light bondage, waxplay, and pegging.
Lovers learn each other’s new bodies. An arrangement is made at the conclusion of a Classical symposium. Clever women wield their favorite toys (and improvise some more). Fire and ice make for a passionate union.
This collection of nine flash fiction pieces includes reprints and never-before-published works. All of them are sexually explicit and for adult audiences only.
Find it at:
April 9, 2015
Giveaways of the New Smut Project anthologies
A little over two weeks after the release of Between the Shores and Heart, Body, Soul, I’m still excited to the point of speechlessness about them. Luckily I don’t need to say much to give books away. You can enter to win a copy of either (or both!) anthologies on three different websites (and yes, to hedge your bets, you can enter all 3 of them).
We’ve got a giveaway post on Tumblr that follows the general rules of Tumblr giveaway posts–reblogs count as entries–but also has a fun twist: for every 100 ‘notes’ the post gets, we toss in more ebook copies as prizes. The post already has over 100 notes, so there will be at least four winners. I expect many more before the giveaway ends April 30.
We also have paperback giveaways on Goodreads: for Between the Shores here and Heart, Body, Soul here. These end April 25th and, because shipping for 830 pages of literary erotica can get pricey, are currently open to US entrants only (international readers, though, are welcome to enter the Tumblr giveaway or try for an ebook).
Ebook copies are available on LibraryThing’s Members Giveaway page. Control+F “New Smut Project” to find them on the list.
I wish you all the best of luck!
March 23, 2015
The New Smut Project: They’re here!
My twin babies, Between the Shores and Heart, Body, Soul, are officially released today.
I’m genuinely speechless. So I’m just going to say you can find links to GoodReads, excerpts, and retailers on my story pages for my own contributions, “Mistress of Victories” and “Provided For,” and the New Smut Project Tumblr has lots more to explore.
And thank you all. Very much.
March 11, 2015
Microfiction at Circlet Press
“Song of my soul, my voice is dead,
Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in
Lost Carcosa.”
When she reaches for him, he responds with such passion that their desperate kiss knocks her mask askew. Below the edge of painted porcelain, carmine smears her lips. He sees its color in the last of the light, as the shadows lengthen across Carcosa.
For an image of voluptuous despair, it’s hard to beat Lost Carcosa. I’ve long be fascinated by this city with its masks and towers and fearsome nobility and the book it hails from– The King in Yellow, at turns horrific and enchanting, always cryptic. The volume is a cipher in which readers can discover their own desires and fears. When Circlet Press put out a call for microfiction around the theme of ‘Yellow,’ it wasn’t hard to find a vein to tap into.
Sunset, Moonrise, Shadows Falling is live on the Circlet website today.
I love writing for Circlet’s Microfictions because flash is a great form to get to the heart of a sexy idea and try it out. While you’re getting your erotic flash fic, you might also be excited to check out pieces from two of the authors from the New Smut Project: Annabeth Leong’s “Fear-Desire-Love” and “Latex Hack” by Dee Maselle.
