Tag Archive | short stories

So you edited your first anthology…now what?

I have a problem. No, a habit, of letting things define me. It’s never intentional, but it happens. Years ago, I was published for the first time in two major anthologies simultaneously. All of a sudden I was the girl who wrote erotica. I proudly took this on as my little niche in writing, a place where I could make a name and hopefully, someday, maybe…a living.

I published plenty. I crossed off a lot of goals on my “to be published by” list. And then I had the opportunity to achieve a major goal of mine: editing my first anthology.

As you know, it came to be Can’t Get Enough and it was a whirlwind experience.

Of course, the book wasn’t even out yet before ideas for more and more anthologies were taking over. I jotted them down. I eventually wrote them up. I decided that if this book did well, this was my chance. I could establish something. This would be my first in a heaping pile of anthologies edited by yours truly.

*Insert belly laughs here*

Though I’ve come across many wonderful people in this community of ours, several of whom turned out to be great mentors of mine, there was never anyone I really spoke to about how this really works. That nothing happens as quickly as you want it to, or does as ridiculously well as you’d dreamed it would and that, well, you do more watching and waiting than anything for a really long time.Suffice it to say, I don’t have any new calls for submissions to list and be excited about, and honestly, I don’t know if I ever will again. I know that’s the opposite of positive thinking, but I have to be real with myself if no one else.

And yes, I drafted a novel in the meanwhile and have started countless other projects. But, what have I done to really push myself forward? To really capitalize from the momentum of Can’t Get Enough’s release?

Editing the project while working a full-time job, moving to another state and caring for twins was enough in and of itself. To keep writing and submitting short stories at the same time sounded crazy.

But, that was where it all began. That was what I was known for. And apparently, I must have taken heed at some point (in my sleep maybe) because I received word a little while back that the amazing Alison Tyler will be publishing three of my shorts in two of her upcoming anthologies.


In Bondage Bites (due out in August), I have Minute to Minute and Anything But Loose, and in Hard At Work (release date TBA), I have A Hard Sell.



Zombie Erotoclypse by Tamsin Flowers

Thanks for inviting me over today to give you a taster from my new release, Zombie Erotoclypse. Perfect for reading in the run up to Halloween, these zombies are hot for your body – and not because they want to suck up your brains!


Have you ever wondered whether zombies have sex? Fall in love? Lust after humans? The five stories in this red hot collection of zombie erotica will answer all these questions and more. If you thought it was tough being a teenage virgin, try it zombie style or why not take a visit to the club where humans get to have their wicked way with hot young zombies – for a price… Meet the Peeping Zom, who develops an obsession with a hot human blonde. Who looks after new zombies and teaches them the art of zombie love-making? And how would you react if the love of your life came home one evening with a zombie bite?

That final question is answered in the final story in the collection, Bar the Door, and here’s an excerpt:

Bar the Door

Emma and Galen take every necessary precaution against the zombie threat, so what happens when one of them is compromised? Galen returns to their safe house having been bitten by a zombie. They know they have only hours left before he transitions into a full-blown zombie – for Emma it’s a last chance to be with the man she loves…

I pulled down my pants and launched myself forward onto the bed between his legs. He smelt fresh and clean from the shower and he seemed to positively gleam with good health. I could hardly believe that he must have already started rotting inside, however microscopically. I slid up his body, sweeping his stomach and chest with my breasts until I was close enough to kiss him on the mouth.

Same old mouth. Same old taste. And always the best kisser. I pushed away the thought that bubbled under the surface. Zombie mouth. Zombie biter. But not yet. We still had a few more hours of being Emma and Galen. He responded to my kiss with a less familiar urgency. His usual languid exploration of my mouth was replaced with a pushing, searching tongue and as I slipped my tongue between his lips, he sucked hard and his back arched up so he could press himself against the length of my body.

I ran my hands up and down his torso, feeling the swell of his erection against me. God, how I loved this man’s cock. I reached my hand down to it and he let out an appreciative moan as I enveloped it with my fingers. It was fully erect, hard as a glass dildo beneath its covering of soft skin. I ran my index finger up and down the shaft and he bucked underneath me. Then I stretched down to cup his balls, holding them as gently as bird’s eggs, working them a little against each other while I whispered in his ear. He turned his head and caught my earlobe with his teeth, nibbling gently until I giggled and pulled away.

I shuffled back down the bed until I was in a position to take his cock in my mouth. But before I sucked it in, I showered it with a flurry of little kisses, up and down, still holding his balls but now tugging a little. Galen groaned and his cock grew hot, the head pulsing under the touch of my lips. I pushed the tip of my tongue out between them and let it make contact with the soft skin at the apex of the head. I felt the tiny slit and tasted the salty pre-cum that leaked out of it and then I opened my lips and drew him into the warm cavern of my mouth.

My hand moved up from his balls to grip the base of his shaft, angling his cock so he could push deeper into my mouth. I started to slide up and down, letting him work in and out, my wet lips slipping across his skin trailed by the hard scrape of my teeth. Galen moaned and I tightened my hand around him, working my mouth harder, massaging with tongue, sucking, blowing, biting. My other hand raked through his chest hairs in search of a nipple and when I found it, I pinched hard, making him yelp and pull against the restraints.

He was almost ready to come but I wanted more. I needed to feel Galen inside me one last time and I knew we wouldn’t have time for a second attempt. With a feeling of profound sadness I raised my head to let his cock fall free from my mouth.

“Babe?” he said. “Don’t stop…”

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Tamsin Flowers loves to write light-hearted erotica, often with a twist in the tail/tale and a sense of fun. In the words of one reviewer, ‘Ms Flowers has a way of describing sexual tension that forces itself upon your own body.’ Her stories have appeared in a wide variety of anthologies , for publishers including Cleis Press, Xcite Books and Go Deeper Press. She is now graduating to novellas with the intention of penning her magnum opus in the very near future. In the meantime, like most erotica writers, she finds herself working on at least ten stories at once: while she figures out whose leg belongs in which story, you can find out more about her at Tamsin’s Superotica or Tamsin Flowers.


A Work In Progress

That is certainly me, but it also happens to be this snippet of a story that is to follow.  I began it months ago, inspired by a close friend of mine.  It was for a literary mag, but I didn’t finish by the deadline.  It’s straight fiction, not even a hint of sex and I do plan to finish and sub it elsewhere.  Anyway, here’s a first scene teaser from Change for a Dollar:

There was something wild in Cleve’s eyes, something hungry and something familiar.  Eugenia recognized it like her ten year old housecoat, or like feeling for her glasses in the dark.

After twenty-three years, she just knew him.

It was Friday and pay day on top of that.  He was up an hour early and was on this second Red Bull.  She could almost see his heart beating through his shirt.

He burped Red Bull in the bathroom.  He hummed “The Wolfman” in the closet.

Who could be this excited for work?  Eugenia knew she wasn’t, and she actually liked her job.  She’d even go as far as to say love.

Cleve, however, drove a goddamned truck and wore shorts.  He still looked good in them, though.  Eugenia’s suits were getting tight.

It was pay day.  He was doing a little two step as he was putting on his clothes, even dabbed a little cologne on his collar bone.

Eugenia waited for the question, leaning against the door frame, arms folded.

Where the hell did he learn that from?

“You got a date?” She asked.

And she laughed, just to make the delivery lighter, she didn’t want or need any mess with him this early in the morning.

Cleve smiled and waved her off.  “Woman, please.  You know I like to smell good.”

And then he stole a kiss like he did every morning without fail.

He wasn’t coming straight home from work.  Eugenia knew that before he even said it. 

“You got any money in your pocket?” he asked without even looking at me.

“No,” Eugenia said, trying to pace the answer so it wasn’t too quick to be believable.  “Besides, you get paid today, don’t you?”

Hence the bathroom two-step.

“Yeah, but I need some cigarettes.”

Cleve never could figure the difference between a want and a need.  Eugenia thought about this as she picked up her own pack of menthols and lit the last one, quietly blowing smoke in his direction.

“Bum,” Eugena said.

“What?” said Cleve.

“Your guys smoke.  Almost all of ‘em, as a matter of fact.  Bum ‘til your check hits the bank.”

He didn’t even reply.  He just brushed past her and snatched his coat off the back of the recliner.

She wasn’t worried about his silent treatment.  He’d have to talk to her eventually, but as calm as Eugenia had taught herself to be over the years, something deep inside her wanted to take the cigarette from between her lips and stub it out on Cleve’s balding head.

Their youngest girl, Trina walked in the room, glancing curiously at her father as he walked out.  “Mama, I need lunch money,” she said.

Eugenia pointed to her purse lying open on the dresser.  If Cleve had bothered to even look that way, he would have seen it.

 “There’s a ten on the side there,” she said to Trina.  “Take that.”

And just then Cleve called from the kitchen.

“Eugenia, you ready to drop me off at work?”