My First Column

A while back, I was invited to be a regular columnist over at Romancing the Blog (which was incredibly flattering πŸ˜€ ) and my first column went up this morning. A bit earlier than I was expecting — I set it for 6am as per instructions and just assumed that’d be Eastern time, but whatever. πŸ™‚ It’s up here, and it’s about jealousy in romance novels.

Oh, and the butterfly in my icon over at RtB is a pic I took at a butterfly farm on St. Martin. I have no clue what species it is, but it’s very pretty and I’m delighted that it came out, since my camera skills are rudimentary at best. πŸ™‚

Angie

New Release — Chasing Fear

Torquere is doing a blitz of short stories especially for Halloween. Mine is called Chasing Fear and it’s a short, erotic urban fantasy. Well, technically urban. πŸ™‚

Emilio loves Martin with everything he has, but he’s still scared to go out and be openly gay, especially with the way his family reacted to the news. Martin just wants to go out and have a good time, so he pushes Emilio’s limits to the breaking point. Emilio figures having a Greenman for a lover has its dangers, especially when it comes to going on a date in the great outdoors. Can he and Martin learn to see eye to eye?

Sample:

It got dark early in late October, and more so in the thick, steep corners of Griffith Park where the trees fought for the sun, and clearing away undergrowth wasn’t as high a priority as it was in the more popular, path-wound areas. Emilio Cardenas liked it up there for the quiet and empty space and the sense of being small and alone in the middle of Nature — it was a tough feeling to find in the heart of metropolitan southern California, even for a ranger. He got twitchy when he spent too much time with people, though, and the heavy rain over the weekend had given him the perfect excuse to escape.

Sure enough, one of the tough old oaks that’d been loosening its grip on the soil sliding out from under it over the last few years had finally lost the battle and toppled. He didn’t call for help with it; instead he spent the day taking it apart himself with the chainsaw and moving the wood downslope to where his little electric truck was parked on a narrow dirt trail.

Leaving the largest trunk sections round had meant he could just give them a shove and let them roll down to the flattish trail. Most of them had hung up on the viburnum shrubs at the downslope side of the path and the two that’d kept on going he’d just left; they’d make a great habitat for bugs and fungus as they rotted. The rest he’d finished cutting up and piled in the back of the truck.

It was twilight by the time he finished and the rougher trails were tricky to drive at the best of times, even in the narrow park vehicle. He should’ve hopped right up and headed back to the station and home to where MartΓ­n would be waiting, probably eyeing the clock and scowling, but instead he just stood for a while and felt the chill dark of early evening creeping across his skin.

A night sparrow called nearby and Emilio listened to its aggressive chirruping. When it had quieted, he pulled out a bottle of water and drank. It was another delaying tactic and he knew it, as was walking over to one of the healthy oaks a few paces off the path and leaning back against the trunk. It was dark enough that he could’ve seen a few stars if he’d been on open ground, even in the middle of LA County. All that was visible overhead from beneath the trees, though, were the dark, squirming branches, the ropes of climbing ivy and millions of shivering leaves.

A loop of ivy dropped out of the tree like a black snake and wound itself around his chest. Emilio gave a frightened shout and tried to move away, but the ivy tightened. One of his arms was caught and before he could get a good grip with the other, another vine bound it to the tree trunk, swooping up from below this time.

Emilio cursed again and a dark, masculine silhouette moved out of the shaded wood. The man strolled over to where Emilio was still struggling against the vines and cocked his head, looking him up and down. Emilio glared at him and jerked hard against the ropey vines, which had grown to the thick, tough wood of old, established ivy. He knew who it had to be, even before the man stepped out of shadow.

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Read the whole story here.

Come Hang Out With Me

I’m hosting the Torquere_Social community here on LiveJournal today (Friday the 26th). I’ll be posting periodically all day, and will be putting up a snippet from my Halloween short story, to be published soon by Torquere Press, and maybe a couple of others. We’ve got popcorn and Halloween movies, so come over and spend the day. πŸ™‚

If you don’t have a LiveJournal, that’s fine — LJ takes anonymous comments with no problem. Just sign your comment so I know who I’m chatting with. [wave]

Angie

Loose Id to the Rescue

For anyone who hasn’t seen already, check out this post over on Treva2007 on Livejournal. Loose Id plans to bid on the contracts held by Triskelion, which is going through bankruptcy. There was a lot of worried blogging going on about what’d happen to the Triskelion authors (and other authors whose publisher had or is going under) since bankruptcy courts don’t recognize contract clauses which revert rights to an author if a publisher goes under.

Treva says:

If successful in their bid, Loose Id, LLC will release the
majority of contracts at no cost to the authors who entered into them.

In a few cases, new contracts will be extended to the author from Loose Id
in lieu of the Triskelion contracts. If an author chooses to reject the offer
made them, their contract will be released by Loose Id, at no cost to the
author.

This is incredibly cool and I think Loose Id deserves some major kudos, whether or not their bid is successful. If I ever get back to writing het, this publisher will be at the top of my submission list, ’cause you can’t beat working with truly good people.

Angie

New Release — Learning to Love Yourself

Just released by Torquere Press, “Learning to Love Yourself” is a short, erotic SF story.

Baran and his shipmate, Theo, have landed their ship in an alternative universe where just about anything might happen. In fact, the oddest things do happen, including Baran meeting his otherworldly doppelganger, which turns to out to be far more interesting, and enlightening, than he thought possible. Can Baran learn to get over his hang ups and learn to tell Theo how he feels by learning to love himself first?

Sample:

Luckily, most spaceports were run on a pretty pragmatic philosophy of one flavor or another, largely based on a desire to persuade the bore traders who’d usually just done their best to fleece the locals for all they were worth to leave as much of their profit as possible behind. With the exception of a few chapters that made Baran and Theo’s home page look downright sybaritic, pretty much all of them had a place for ship crews to spend their leisure time and partake of fresh food, strong intoxicants and negotiable companionship. It was always the first place Baran went and he was feeling a powerful need for it right then.

He’d just gotten through the main doors and was trying to decide whether to go for the food or the (female!) companionship first when he was grabbed from behind, spun around and enveloped in a strangling hug that lifted him off his feet. Once he’d gotten his breath back, he looked, then stared wide-eyed and gaping at– himself.

“Hey!” he (the other he) babbled, sporting a manic grin and still hanging onto his shoulders. “Took you long enough to process through! This is great, I love meeting myself! Wow, you still have the beard! I tried it but got rid of it — no matter what you do this side of the mustache always ends up crooked and that just looks dumb. Whatever you’re into, though. It’s funny how many of us still have it so I guess it’s not that bad. I’ve got a room, let’s go catch up!”

Baran found himself being dragged along by a chattering madman whose topics of conversation bounced like a superball in zero-G. A madman whose dark, waving hair, thin beak of a nose and broad smile matched his own exactly. Except for the lack of beard.

“–got a ping when you checked in from orbit, couldn’t wait to meet you; I love meeting myself. It’s just a trip; I always wanted to travel to other pages, but it just didn’t work out that way so I work here at the Welcome Center–”

Was I ever like that? Baran wondered to himself, listening with one ear while the rest of his consciousness hunkered down behind a wall and peered over the top. He wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or crack up.

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Get the whole story here.

Hello

My name is Angela Benedetti and I’m a writer. I live in Long Beach, California, and have been writing since I was a teenager, although I published my first story only recently.

Most of my stories are gay romance or erotica, or often both. I write in a variety of genres, including science fiction, fantasy and urban fantasy, as well as the more realistic contemporary settings. Some of my stories are quite dark while others are light and humorous. I’m more than willing to write something sexy if it supports the story, and I’ll walk on the BDSM side of the street occasionally. I enjoy exploring new things and trying new ideas and I’m never sure what kind of story or characters are going to pop up and demand to be next. πŸ™‚

I hope you enjoy my work and that you’ll let me know what you thought. Feedback from readers, including constructive criticism, are always welcome. Thanks!

Angie