Wow, wow, wow!
My first print sale was my short story “Understudy” to Black Lace for their vampire anthology, Lust at First Bite. I will never forget getting that letter. I was so excited I practically….well, use your imaginations.
So, six months after I got the fantastic news, Lust at First Bite is now available for sale at bookstores and on the internet in the United Kingdom, home to Black Lace Publishing.
Check out some of the buzz at Lust Bites, the Black Lace blog. The lovely ladies over there will be putting up some excerpts tomorrow.
For those in the U.K., pick up a copy today.
For those of us in the States, well, we have to wait a bit. The U.S. release date is January 6th, but you can pre-order Lust at First Bite from Amazon right now!
by Angela Caperton
in Lust at First Bite
Mauzy ordered and as Benny bustled off, asked her, “What’s your name?”
She gazed at him, her eyes depthless and filled with laughter and secrets. “Anastasia,” she said with a little smile to show it was a lie and the end of the subject as far as she was concerned.
Benny brought the drinks, setting Mauzy’s shot down and pouring Ana’s wine with a flourish. He would’ve hung around the table if Mauzy hadn’t waved him away.
“No,” he said, looking directly at her. “This Dracula isn’t a real role. It’s a farce, a joke.”
“So you say,” she sipped her wine, the red liquid shining on her lips. “Many people like it, yes?”
He shrugged. “I suppose. There are so many better plays.”
“But this one, there is something of dreams in it, yes?” Her voice caressed him.
“Dreams? Nightmares is more like it.” Mauzy replied and lifted the shot.
“Do you know the difference?” She cocked her head and watched him, the tip of her tongue showing slightly as she sipped her wine.
Mauzy considered a moment. “When I have a nightmare, I want to wake up,” he said before he threw back the whiskey and welcomed the heat as it coated his tongue and throat.
“Yes,” she smiled, her gaze suddenly intense, black fire flickering in her eyes. “And when you are dreaming – truly dreaming, no matter how terrible or beautiful it is – you do not even know when you are dreaming, so you cannot wake up. Not until sunrise.”
A car roared wetly past. The promised rain had finally arrived.
“Plays though …they ought to be about something tangible, something real. Not some dream.” The edges of the conversation seemed to unravel around him.
“I do not agree.” She pouted a little and Mauzy heard the rain turn to sorrowful sheets. “I have seen plays that are exactly like dreams and they are the very best. Why? Because they show us what can be true. Nothing is more honest than our dreams. They are our souls. You should listen to yours, Mauzy Lyman.”
© 2008 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without
written permission from the author.