Ohhhh, I’m spinning from tits to arse. So much to do right now. Stories to edit (mine), stories to edit (other people’s), a sample chapter to edit that I hope will lead to more work, and yeah, stories to WRITE. However instead of all of that, I’m sitting with a bourbon and coke, a Dr Who re-run, a box of Panadol, a snuggly fleece blanket, and the horrible feeling I’m getting a cold (but I did get off my arse to book flights to Melbourne. Yay, Melbourne. World’s greatest city!).

However, sick or not, this needs shouting about.

“Girl Fever” is here. Not the sort of fever that’s currently making my head explode – a far better kind.

“Girl Fever: 69 Stories of Sudden Sex for Lesbians” edited by Sacchi Green has hit the shelves. 69 stories from a plethora of fantastic writers (and a couple by yours truly). I haven’t received my copies yet, so I can’t comment on specific stories, but anything that has Shanna Germain, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Allison Wonderland, Nikki Magennis, Jeremy Edwards, and Sacchi herself between the covers is going to be excellent.

Sacchi has contributor bios on her blog here, . Apparently I’m one of those who chose to remain seductively silent. Those who know me are well aware I’m neither seductive nor silent, so that’s a bit of a mystery. *g*

There’s also a review on Erotica Revealed.

Here’s the start of one of my stories in this collection, “I Wish I Knew You”.

I wish I knew you like she does.
It’s Sunday morning and I’m sitting on the rear deck with my husband. He’s reading the paper and grunting about some perceived incompetency in the Obama administration. It’s spring and the Rocky Mountains look so damn beautiful in the sun that I want to hold the picture in my head to look at when life moves back to winter.
Jed doesn’t see the Rockies; he doesn’t see me.
After I’ve served breakfast, I sit opposite him sipping a coffee. I’m not drinking in the mountains now; I’m looking east, toward the house across the laneway.
I sneak a glance at my watch; it’s nearly 9:00. Jed rustles the paper, makes another derogatory remark about Obama.
The house opposite abuts the laneway, so when the upstairs drapes twitch and slide back, I can see clearly into the bedroom – your bedroom.