Thursday, February 12, 2015

The Kissing Partner - Live On Amazon

The concept for The Kissing Partner came to me in the blink of an eye, first thing on a Sunday morning. Isn't it funny how we get inspired on a dime, based on the most unusual of circumstances?

Right. Funny. Ha ha.

It is a dark romance. And I hate how dark romance has now come to imply BDSM. There's nothing wrong with BDSM fiction, but there is nothing dark about kink to me. It's what we do. It's not how we feel.

Dark implies pain, fear, the outcasts of the world, the demonic and the personal torment of everyday life, etc., etc. You can't slap a dark cover on a book with characters who are tied up and call it a dark romance. Well, you can, but you will lose my vote.

Anyway, just like fantasy has now come to mean werewolves and vampires, dark fiction has been lost upon some fad that may or may not stick around.

I shudder.

Anyway, The Kissing Partner is a short story, and it is DARK. Call it horror. Call it supernatural thriller. Either way, the MC finds herself in a scary yet ironic situation when confronted with her own personal baggage.

I love this story. I love the characters. And I hope that you will too.

Here is the blurb:

Be careful what you wish for... 


Cadence Longfellow is married to a germophobe. He won't touch her. He won't even kiss her.

Out of desperation and longing, she places an ad for a kissing partner, thinking that some innocent physical contact will solve her problems. 

She gets a kissing partner all right. And in an ironic twist of fate, it might be more than she bargained for, putting her marriage and her life in jeopardy. 

The Kissing Partner is a romantic thriller short read. 


Buy it now on Amazon. Or better yet, join Kindle Unlimited and read your freakin' heart out for only $10 a month. 



Sunday, January 11, 2015

He's Dark - Gothic Poetry

He's Dark - Gothic Poetry by LB Shaw




His kisses loom like shadows before they
reach my lips.
And his hands flow like a river before they
touch my hips.

Our words don't break the silence when they're
spoken under breath.
But it doesn't really matter when you're nothing
more than deaf.

The shadows they are there with no
contact in between.
And it's a shame but you don't know my hips are
long and lean.

You wait for me I wait for you this
silence growing cold.
And in the end we both shut down too young too
far too old.

Sunday, January 4, 2015

Tell Me - A Dark Poem

Dark Poems by LB Shaw



Tell me again?
Tell me.
How you couldn't live without me.
How your life was cold and hollow.
Still.
Wanting.
Like a starving weeping willow on a cemetery plot, its leaves hanging from the dead weight of a thousand slaves, pulling the limbs to the ground, so far down.

Tell me.
How every moment after those goodbyes we never could bring ourselves to say,
How every second seemed like an eternity.
How every hour you tried not to rip your eyes from their sockets because you couldn't stand to see me in your head and you just wanted to stop seeing me.
You just wanted to stop.

Tell me.
How you never knew how pretty the sunrise could be from the back seat of a car through the billowy black smoke at five-thirty in the morning in the middle of summer on a dirt road in a strange town after having stayed up all night because no one had shown you.
No one had ever shown you that.

Tell me again?
How the breadth of my silence could never match the depth of your patience and now all you have is the sound of your own thoughts and all I can do is talk talk talk.

Oh, tell me.
That's my favorite part.
How your thoughts are all you've got.

Monday, December 22, 2014

I'm Not - Dark Poetry by LB Shaw

I'm Not - A Dark Poem by LB Shaw



There is no hope.
There is no end to this dark road that stretches out in front of me as far as the eye can see.

And I'm not inspired.
I'm not inspired to tell you.
I'm not inspired to tell you just how much.
I'm not inspired to tell you just how much I want.
I'm not inspired to tell you just how much I want to die.

I'm not inspired to tell you just how much I can't even cry.
I'm not inspired to tell you just how much I won't even try.
I'm not inspired to tell you that this is goodbye.

I'm not.


Sunday, September 21, 2014

Conceiving Evil by Jenna Fox - Cover Reveal

Conceiving Evil
Release date: October 16th by Dark Hollows Press
Author: Jenna Fox


In a World Full of Hopelessness, He Was Her Savior 

Like everyone else after the economic crash, Abby Torrance was struggling financially. But then Dorian Lincoln, a political and business icon, sweeps her off her feet and into a life of promise. He’s a man who has enough power to change the world for the better, a man who can give hope to the masses, a man who can give Abby a baby.

But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions and Abby is having strange dreams that seem both a warning and a prophesy. How can she give the evil undertones of her dreams any notice when she’s busy focusing on conceiving?

Contains light BDSM and horror themes.  Includes flogging.


Well, my dears, Jenna Fox has struck again. 

With her talent!

Jenna is a dear friend who has been incredibly awesome and supportive over the past year and a half, even as I transitioned from erotic romance to southern gothic fiction.

I've also read every one of her books, and there is no doubt about it--the woman can write.

This one has piqued my interest, particularly because of its dark nature, and I'm sure that it will not disappoint. Jenna never fails to bring us rich characters with heroes that are sure to leave us... begging for more, shall I say? I can't wait to get my grubby little hands on this one. I have a feeling that Dorian is NOT who Abby thinks he is. But Jenna is notorious for surprising her readers with twists and turns, so we shall have to wait and see what Conceiving Evil brings. 

Make sure to Pre order it on Amazon now! 

To learn more about Jenna's dark erotic books, please visit her on GoodReads or her Amazon Author Page where you can also peruse her other books. My favorite so far is Sealed in Blood, a sizzling yet dark mystery with a touch of domination and submission. 

In the meantime, Jenna has sent me an excerpt from Conceiving Evil to share with you all. So please, enjoy and feel free to leave comments below! 


Dammit to hell. I can’t even enjoy a movie.
The nighttime air bit at my skin as thoughts of him chomped at my brain. He’d polluted me like a poison that spread throughout my mind and body, seizing every thought, leaving no rest. I loved horror movies and yet I couldn’t recall a single scene. Jimmie kept glancing at me, concern etching his face all the way through the ninety-minute show.
Soon Jimmie and I walked out of the theater, my hand resting in the crook of his elbow. Bitterness raged inside, heating my face against the breeze when I saw the limo roll toward us. He found me like he always said he would, but three fucking hours late.
I knew I wasn’t Dorian’s top priority, and I’d made some progress at keeping my jealousy under control, but no woman wanted to be shoved to the side every time it was convenient for a man. I tightened my grip on Jimmie’s sleeve and pulled him along just as the driver stepped into our path. I gave the chauffeur a shotgun-glare as he motioned me to the car. “Miss Torrance, Mr. Lincoln is waiting.”
My heart skipped ten beats, I couldn’t tear my eyes away when the dark window lowered and Dorian tousled his ebony hair with his fingers. He wasn’t in his usual attire, a business suit. Tonight he presented himself in casual wear. His sharp, handsome features were expressionless.
I closed my eyes, digging deep for the strength to tell him to get lost for standing me up, but I knew the words would never make it past my lips. I was a fool to entertain the thought. One look from those black eyes sifted me like wheat. Dorian practically owned me. That man was my tempter and my savior wrapped into one.
I met him at the lowest point of my life, after my mother died of cancer. The three jobs I was working to keep my head above water and pay off her medical bills were about to do me in physically. While I was waiting tables at the country club, Dorian swooped in from out of nowhere and rescued me like an injured bird. His amazing sixth sense alerted him that life was too much for me, and he offered me a strong shoulder to cry on. The floodgates opened and I unloaded my personal problems. Dorian Lincoln promised those problems would disappear with a simple acceptance of his proposition: give him power over my body, something Bianca wouldn’t allow.
Lifting my palm to Jimmie’s cheek, I smiled. “Thanks for the movie. I’ll call you next week.”
“He’s a prick. You deserve better, Abby!” Jimmie yelled, as I eased myself inside the limo.
Dorian opened a small refrigerator under the seat, his hands cupping the base of a champagne glass. “You’ve wasted no time finding another way of entertaining yourself this evening.”
“You wasted no time in standing me up,” I scoffed.
When I left his office that afternoon, Dorian said he wanted me for some ‘quality time.’ Eight-thirty rolled around before I realized he was a no-show. The food got cold and eventually the long stemmed candles I lit for dinner burned out, along with my patience.
“Meetings...clients,” he said.
Top secret meetings and clients were always the excuse. The coldness in his voice was a sword to my heart, a reminder of my temporary ranking in his life. I held on tight to his promise of our relationship becoming more when the time was right.
His stony expression broke into a devious grin. “You look beautiful in that dress and your enthusiasm is charming. But watching you masturbate will reimburse me, Miss Torrance.”
My stomach dropped and quivered as I pressed my thighs together. He was going to punish me.
I tugged at the straps of the red shoes he’d bought me, eyeing him as he sipped from the flute and moved his gaze toward the window. Overtaken by the need to be the object of his fascination, I almost begged him to turn those onyx eyes back on me. His attention was the only thing that kept me from going under.
“Dorian, please I-”
My words were cut off with the sharp turn of his head. Relief came in a warm caress, but suspicion moved in with a lift of his brow. The small amount of light coming through the tinted windows deepened the masculine angles of his face, lending them a sternness that echoed in his voice.
“No other men. I thought I was quite clear about that when we discussed the terms of our agreement, three months ago.”
“Jimmie is just a friend.”
“Jimmie is a man. A distraction.”
“A distraction from being pissed. I don’t like being stood up.”



                                                              

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Then Death Spoke Live on Amazon

Then Death Spoke is officially live on Amazon and ready for your kindle! 






A haunting collection of horror and southern gothic fiction short stories with strong, female characters—often victimized, always leading the way.

These are not your feel good, happy ending stories. They are dark, painful, and sometimes sick. This ebook comes with a side of dark humor but should come with a bottle of Prozac. Titles include:

Twisted
The Thing
Vapor! Baby
Death Came a-Swinging
Piggy Brains on the Walls
Then Death Spoke and I Listened
I Never Met a Soldier I Didn’t Like
Pregnancy is the Best Form of Birth Control
Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Suicide

Some of these stories contain strong language and adult themes. Not recommended for readers under 17 years of age. Approximately 21,000 words in length.

Click on the image to get your copy for only $2.99 and let me know what you think!

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Southern Gothic Fiction - Cover Reveal and Excerpt

To be released Thursday, 9/4



I’m excited to announce my first collection of horror and southern gothic fiction short stories, Then Death Spoke, will be released on Amazon Thursday, 9/4.

These are NOT dark stories with “feel good,” happy endings, folks. These are your sick and twisted, double-up-on-the-Prozac stories. True escapism for the gothic *heart.*

To "lure" you in, I've included here an excerpt from one of my southern gothic pieces. The voice is a young teenage girl, battling feelings for a much older man from a very dark past.


Excerpt from, “I Never Met a Soldier I Didn’t Like” by LB Shaw

It was six months later when the unbelievable happened. I was at church and I had to go to the bathroom, but the upstairs bathrooms were full. I ran downstairs to the ones that hardly anyone ever used.

When I came out, low and behold if Eddie himself wasn’t standing there in the hallway, all alone, decked out in his Army uniform and everything. I almost fainted on the spot. Lord knows I had changed a lot since he last saw me, blooming in all the right ways as my best friend’s cousin had once said. When Eddie saw me, he looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

“Jolene, I… look at you. My, you’ve grown.” His eyes wandered right down to where they shouldn’t have but where I wanted them to, and I thought if he stared at me forever I’d never get tired of looking at his perfect face.

“Hi, Mr. Winthrop,” I sort of whispered and sort of blurted, still holding on to the formality of respecting my elders, even though in my head, I’d always called him Eddie. “How are you?” My palms were sweating up a storm and I thought my heart would bust right through the lace on my dress and splat all over the church floor.

“Going through a rough time, but I’m hanging on as best I can. How’s life treating you, darlin’?”

Eddie rubbed his hands together as he talked.

“Pretty good, I guess.” I searched his face for some clue that… well, I don’t know what sort of clue I was looking for. He just smiled softly, and I asked him what rough thing he was going through.

“You didn’t hear?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Oh, well don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. It’s all grown up stuff anyways.” He jerked his head around to peer down the dark hallway. “Say, I can’t stick around, but you wouldn’t want to do an old man a favor, would you?”

“Me?” I would have done just about anything for Eddie.

He laughed and asked me to meet him at his car after church, that he had something he wanted to give me.

“It’s something I brought back from Tennessee. It’s nothing bad, but I know your mama doesn’t approve of me giving you gifts.”

I told him I would be there or be square, and all through the sermon I could hardly wait to get out the doors. I looked around for Eddie, but I didn’t see him anywhere. He wasn’t kidding when he said he couldn’t stick around. I wondered what he was doing there to begin with, and why he didn’t just bring the gift inside to give me before he had to leave.

Since Mom and Dad usually went to the fellowship hall after Sunday sermon, I didn’t tell them a thing, just ran straight out to the overflow parking lot across the street where Eddie said he’d be waiting. When I saw his black Dodge, I got so nervous I almost turned back around. I think my heart couldn’t take how bad I wanted him.

I saw him sitting there in the driver’s seat as I came up to the car. His head was hanging down, and for a minute I thought he was asleep. When he saw me, he leaned over and opened the passenger door. I sat down next to him, and he started the car up to run the heat. It was so dad-burned cold. We sat there without saying a word for a good while. It felt so nice, just being near him again, that I didn’t mind the silence.

“I want to be a good man, you know,” he said.

“You are, Mr. Winthrop.”

“I wish you’d call me Eddie.”

“Okay. Eddie.”

He took a deep breath and looked over at the church, like what he needed to say was written on the steeple.

“When I was a little boy, my papa would beat my ass if I breathed wrong. I always said when I grew up, I’d make sure I never hurt no one. Especially someone I love. I really don’t understand how some men’s minds work.”

I looked at Eddie, trying to figure out what he was talking about, but really just having a hard time believing that he was back. I thought about everyone inside the church, and me, just having gotten done worshipping the Lord, sitting out here in the car, in the real world, discussing real adult stuff, my hormones trying to rage me right through the teenage years and into womanhood.

I watched his profile while his stare loomed ahead in the distance, maybe somewhere he wanted to be. I wanted to be there too. Eddie closed his eyes and put his hands on the steering wheel, gripping it so tight it squeaked.