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Valentine’s Day doesn’t always go to plan, no matter who is involved. This anthology celebrates misfortune off all kinds on Valentines Day.
Love is a Mess: a Supposed Crimes anthology
Love is a Mess: A Supposed Crimes Anthology contains eight stories from eight authors on the topic of misfortune at Valentine’s Day. The topics range from the fun of the moment to the power of the eternal. Lesbian, gay, and bisexual characters star in their own love and lust stories—erotic, playful, and thoughtful.
Edited by C. E. Case
Stories by A. M. Leibowitz, Adrian J. Smith, Amber Kinsey, Eva Lefoy, Geonn Cannon, L. M. Perrin, Michael DuPuy and Rachael Orman.
Lesbian, Bisexual and Gay anthology, Valentine’s Day theme, romance, contemporary
Publisher: Supposed Crimes, LLC
Release Date: January 3, 2015 (ebook only)
Length: Anthology / 35,000 words / 119 pages
Viral Valentine by L. M. Perrin
Date Blind by Geonn Cannon
The Politician and the Pilot by Amber Kinsey
Bar Tryst by Rachael Orman
Quarter Life: Energy Feed by Adrian J. Smith
Property of Cupid by Eva Lefoy
Private Dance by A. M. Leibowitz
The Last Mitzvah by Michael DuPuy
About the Publisher
Supposed Crimes, LLC publishes fiction and poetry primarily featuring lesbian characters and themes. The focus is on genre fiction–Westerns, Science Fiction, Horror, Action–rather than just romance. That’s how we set ourselves apart from our competitors. Our characters happen to love women and kick ass.
“Supposed crimes” refers to the idea that homosexuality is outlawed, and that our authors are being subversive by writing. As times change this becomes more tongue-in-cheek, but can still apply broadly to our culture. Christians writing lesbians and men writing lesbians are also subversive ideas in this industry, and we promote people bending the rules.
About the Authors
A. M. Leibowitz is a spouse, parent, feminist, and book-lover falling somewhere on the Geek-Nerd Spectrum. She keeps warm through the long, cold western New York winters by writing romantic plot twists and happy-for-now endings. In between noveling and editing, she blogs coffee-fueled, quirky commentary on faith, culture, writing, and her family at amleibowitz.com.
Adrian J. Smith, aka AJ, loves to write women, and specifically women who are strong, independent and fall in love with other women. She claims bisexuality but is probably closer to omnisexual. She’s a go with the flow type of person. She loves writing urban fantasy and creatures and powers of all different kinds. She also loves writing women in uniform, because let’s face it, a woman in uniform has an irresistible draw. Most of her stories have a romantic element, but if you want action, drama, plot with a hint of romance, she’s the author for you. Find her at adrianjsmith.wordpress.com.
Amber Kinsey is a part-time federal employee, full-time geek, and occasional writer. She lives in a suburb of Nashville, TN with her three cats: one is the light of her life; the other two are just little stinkers.
Eva Lefoy writes and reads all kinds of romance, and is a certified Trekkie. She’s also terribly addicted to chocolate, tea, and hiking. One of these days, she’ll figure out the meaning of life, quit her job, and go travel the galaxy. Until then, she’s writing down all her dirty thoughts for the sake of future explorers. You can find her blog at writery.wordpress.com.
Geonn Cannon is the author of On the Air, Gemini, World on Fire, The Following Sea, Tilting at Windmills, Only Flame and Air, Confused by Shadows, Chasing Dragons, What Matter Wounds?, Silence Out Loud, the Riley Parra series, Railroad Spine, Gunfire Echoes, the Underdogs series, Girls Don’t Hit, and The Rise and Fall of Radiation Canary. He also wrote an official tie-in novel for Stargate SG-1 titled “Two Roads” and contributed a Stargate Atlantis story to the “Far Horizons” anthology. An archive of free stories can be found at geonncannon.com. When he’s not writing, he’s asleep.
L. M. Perrin is an English major who writes fiction to break up the monotony of analyzing novels. She lives in Leelanau County, also known as Michigan’s pinky finger, with her dog and the occasional stray cat, and in her opinion there is nothing wrong with spending a night binging on Netflix and pizza. This is her first published piece.
Michael DuPuy, while not investigating epistemological dead ends, cultivates a greater understanding of the folly of man most often by recreating as many of such folly’s as possible through no intent of his own. Michael turned to writing as a method of perhaps extending his sanity and to justify his coffee consumption. If anything this tactic has backfired.
Rachael Orman: Mother by day. Writer by night. I spend a majority of my day with my children and reading while my nights are filled with the sound of the keyboard as I work on my next work.
I have written in F/F, F/F/M, F/F/F and then of course F/M genres…. So, beware, I do not always have the most ‘traditional’ scenes. And one day I will venture into M/M, just have to find the time. I love to try new things and learn from every piece of work I write. I’ll write just about anything once to learn from it. I’ve even ventured out of my normal erotica genre into Monster Erotica. Doubt you’ll find me writing anything not erotic as you can barely get me to even read something out of that category, but then again, you never know what I might try next.
“Where is he?” Eros hissed the words at his manservant, his patience growing thin. One didn’t need to be a genius to see the metal stake in the middle of the alley was empty. As in devoid of offering. No sacrifice for Eros meant his nasty demon side would take control soon, something he couldn’t afford to let happen on the night before Valentine’s Day.
That was the one where Eros transformed – against his will – into that silly Roman cherub Cupid. He became all sweetness and light, assisting lovers with their efforts by piercing their intended’s heart with the insta-lust arrow. Making sure love won despite all obstacles. But with his inner demon in control….
Eros shuddered. His bad side cared only for the lead arrows, the ones that turned the intended lover’s feelings to indifference, or worse, disdain. He carried both arrows in his arsenal at all times and always had. But it was Cupid who always wielded the love arrow and the demon who spurned it all together. What a mess tomorrow will be. I need a sacrifice, now. Animals and votive candles aren’t going to cut it. I need sex.
Already Eros could feel his pointy tail emerging. The hooves and horns would soon follow. Once he turned fully beast, it would take over a hundred sacrifices to calm him, and he simply had no time to round up that many humans. “Damn it all to Hades, where the hell did he go?”
His manservant cringed. “Sorry, my lord. I-I’ll go find another.”
“Never mind. I’ll do it myself.” He stalked off in the direction of the nearest street, his senses honing in on loud, pulsating music and the sweat scent of ramped-up testosterone. Fucking halleluiah, there was a gay bar on this block.
Street side, he narrowed his gaze on the flashing neon sign that read, “Set ‘em Up!” and wondered if he’d been mistaken. Gay men weren’t known to bowl unless Bette Midler was in attendance, and tossing a ball down an alley wouldn’t get him what he needed anyway. But as he neared and saw the blacked-out windows and the strobe light under the eaves, he gave a sigh of relief. One good fuck would do, he just needed the perfect victim.
Damn his slave for describing tonight’s sacrifice in such vivid terms. His aching cock refused to soften, still amped on anticipation for the young, blond, innocent college student that was supposed to have been trussed up and waiting for him. Even now his cock leaked, urging him to put it in some virgin ass. But where could he find some at this time of night? He had two hours to go before the big day and a very large city to search. His chances of finding the right guy were nil. Grinding his teeth, he pushed open the door.
The bouncer took one look at him and stepped back, his eyes wide.
Good man. His radar vetted the guy with one sweep. No, he won’t do. Twirling his half-naked ass, he headed for the dance floor. Sex and sweat rolled off the tiny enclave and assaulted his nose. His cock thumped in rhythm to the music’s beat. Every sensual body on the floor ground against another. Most of them already taken, and definitely not virginal. None of them will work. His cock protested, wanting to take a chance on the closest stud muffin, but he knew better. A partial sacrifice would leave him needing more, dangle him on the edge of sanity and then pull him back down. He had no time to fight his demon side tomorrow.
Irritated, he snapped his perusal to the rest of the establishment. Surely there was one man in attendance that’d do?