A Small Drama by Jennifer Michelle
Everly never felt at home with her fellow pixies in the Meadowlands. She meets a stranger from another group of pixies and has a steamy encounter. Back home, she’s under pressure to make a commitment to a pixie she’s attracted to, but she can’t seem to forget her night with the unusual stranger. Stuck in a love triangle she can’t get out of, Everly has to decide what’s more important: loyalty to her family, or the pursuit of the unknown.
Description
Find more from this author on:
Amazon
GoodReads
FacebookAbout the author:
Jennifer Michelle was born and raised in South Texas and developed a love of writing and literature at an early age. After enjoying a brief but fulfilling career in the veterinary industry, Jennifer bounced around a few different career fields before deciding to pursue writing full time.
Her favorite genres include fantasy, romance, young adult, classics, and contemporary fiction. On occasion, Jennifer dabbles in writing poetry and personal essays.
When not writing, Jennifer spends her time bonding with her pets, entertaining friends and family, pursuing arts & crafts, and playing PC video games. She also runs a weekly writer's workshop for local writers with an emphasis on getting pen to paper.
You can find Jennifer on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jennifermichellewrites
What inspired you to write your book?
I knew I enjoyed the romance/erotic genre, but I wanted to approach it from a unique perspective. When I landed on the idea of pixies I knew it was a cute idea. I never considered writing fantasy although I love to read it. For some reason I thought all fantasy characters had to be noble and selfless. It wasn't until a close friend pointed out the fantasy characters can be just as screwed up as characters in any other genre that I gave in and started fleshing out the pixie world.
Here is a short sample from the book:
I woke up to an obnoxious buzzing sound and an overwhelming amount of sunlight.
The buzzing was just a stupid bumblebee, trying to pollinate with the tulip whose petals I had apparently made a bed out of last night. And the sunlight? It was the fucking sun, having the audacity to show up as scheduled even though I was trying to catch a few more minutes of rest.
I waved my hands and hissed at the bee, my tiny fangs drawing out the sound. He didn’t get the hint, only backed away a bit as if I might forget that he’s there. Sighing, I stood up and shook out my translucent butterfly wings. They vibrated behind me and I was lifted off the tulip. In terms of height, I had the edge on the insect. But when it came to mass, he won the day. I raised two fingers at him in a crude gesture and flew away, my head throbbing.
As I rose above the ground I worked to get my bearings. There was the Tree of Light, not too far off in the distance. The sacred birthplace of all Meadowland pixies. And last night, the site of one of the most debauched parties I’ve had the pleasure of attending. My cheeks flushed as I thought of the time I spent in one of the Tree’s many dark crevices with Fizlap’s hand under my dress. And then my head began to throb anew as I remembered Fizlap’s disappointing dick — too small and too sensitive — and the three honeysuckle nectars I had chugged in an attempt to wash away the memory of the male pixie’s shortcomings.
No, those nectars didn’t do shit, I thought to myself as I made my way back toward the Tree. I still remembered everything, and now I had a hangover as a souvenir. I named it after the pixie who caused it, putting it in good company with the hangovers known as Markoz, Orn’lem, Niktus, and Shilaya.
Finally I reached my domicile, a hidden nest within the lower branches of the Tree. I pushed open the mossy door and was immediately glad that I finally got one of the carpenters’ guild members to repair a hole in my roof last week. The sun got shut outside the door and I breathed a sigh of relief at the dim interior. I left the candles extinguished, hoping the hangover headache wasn’t on its way to becoming a migraine. Honestly with the speed of my metabolism, it should have already been gone. But I didn’t want to risk it.
I laid down on the sofa my parents gave me when I left their nest. It was spacious and perfectly comfortable for a pixie feeling like the mere mention of a slug larvae could trigger a projectile of sparkly vomit.
I told myself I could go lie down in my hammock but the rocking motion seemed precarious. Although my bed in the corner was another perfectly fine option, it was too far from the door so it got ruled out as well.
Sometimes I wondered if I was meant to be a meadowland pixie. What kind of nature lover blocks out the sun and lives completely indoors? What sort of pollinator can’t hold her fermented nectar? On a bright, clear, balmy Autumn morning; shouldn’t I have been eager to get out there and frolic in the sunlight like the rest of my kind?
Lines of burning light seeped through the cracks in my roof and door and I squeezed my eyes shut. Nope, no frolicking for me. At least not until another several hours of sleep and a large glass of morning dew.
The sun had already reached its zenith and begun its descent when I woke up again, splayed out on my couch with drool on the side of my mouth. My head felt much clearer and, after lighting the candles in the house with a snap of my fingers, I could tell my hangover was well and gone.
I stood up and looked at my dress. It was wrinkled and I could see a stain of pollen at the hem, no doubt from that damn tulip. What can I say, I ended up in weird places when I was drunk and irritated.
With another snap, the dress was gone. In its place was what I would call my casual attire — a short dress made from lilac petals that fell a bit higher than mid-thigh. It was form-fitting and made my tits look extra perky. I didn’t bother checking the mirror to see the state of my hair. I just envisioned it in its normal appearance — black and wavy and hanging just past my shoulders — snapped my fingers again, and then felt to make sure it had arranged itself into the style I preferred.
Strictly speaking, pixies weren’t granted magic so they could change their appearance. (If that was the case, wouldn’t Fizlap have done something about his underwhelming anatomy?) No, we were gifted magic so we could make seeds take root, mend broken plants, and assist with pollination where the bees and birds fell short. Still, no one was going to know if I magicked my frizzy hair into place from time to time. And if someone did, it’s not like I was going to be put in pixie prison.
Finally feeling myself and looking much more presentable, I threw open the mossy door and flitted out of my nest. I passed a few neighbors, greeting them each with a joyless smile. Generally all Meadowlanders knew or at least knew of each other, but it didn’t mean we were all perfect friends. In fact I had kind of already forgotten the names of the young couple that just moved in a few branches away.
“Good afternoon, Everly,” a voice called out, sounding about as grouchy as a pixie could. It was Mrs. Hollyhock, a woman about my mom’s age who lived too close for comfort, considering that she essentially functioned as a spy for my mother.
“Hi Mrs. Hollyhock,” I replied, landing on her porch where she was tending to garden of potted lettuce plants. “Charming day.”
“Charming day,” she said back. It was a standard Meadowlander greeting. Another tradition that never felt quite right to me.
“Your bittergreens are looking lovely,” I told her in a deliberately pleasant voice. Best to try to get on her good side before she could scold me for any number of things.
“I didn’t see you come in last night,” she said, ignoring my compliment. So much for that good side.
“I stayed the night with a girlfriend,” I lied with ease. “She just moved into a new nest on the other side of the Tree and wanted someone to stay with her on her first night.”
Mrs. Hollyhock made a noise like a grunt.
I took my chance while I had it.
“I’d better get going, Mrs. Hollyhock,” I said as I floated above her. “I have a few flowers to look in on and some other errands to run. Busy, busy day!”
I kept floating higher and higher as I spoke, until I was out of earshot. If she said anything in response, I didn’t hear her. I waved and turned away, flying through the remaining labyrinth of nests. Finally I made it. The canopy of the Tree was behind me and the open air in my wings.
Soaring above the meadow, watching the larger wildlife forage for food, just being alone with the breeze at my back — that was what I truly loved. Pollinating was fine. Partying every other night was enjoyable. And the company of the male pixies was usually exciting enough to keep me entertained.
But none of it felt like it was meant for me. Or, it felt like there was something else out there that I was supposed to be doing, some destiny that would finally give my life meaning.
I smacked myself on the forehead. I sounded like a pixie all right. Destiny and fate and finding my life’s true purpose. That was pixie primary school 101.
My excuse for leaving Mrs. Hollyhock had been a half-truth. I had already checked on all my plants last night before the party and they didn’t need tending for another sunrise. I did have a couple of errands that needed to be completed, but as I flitted in and out of the tall meadow grasses, teasing a small bunny and dusting it when I got bored, the notion of errands escaped my mind completely.
Before I realized it, the sun was getting close to the horizon and the nocturnal creatures were beginning to stir. I looked around in a panic. The Tree of Light was so far in the distance as to seem minuscule. How had I flown so far?
I usually started my days with the sun, like any normal pixie. But getting up past midday had thrown off my internal clock. There were no obvious landmarks nearby and, worst of all, I was outside of the Meadowlands. I could see the human nests from where I hovered, huge and looming. Encounters with humans aren’t always fatal, I told myself as I watched one of them running around with a giant stick and a ball almost as large as the inside of my nest.
I shrieked and turned, flying as fast as I could toward the Tree in the distance. Even though I knew rationally I would never make it before dark, my instinct was to shoot for home. My head swiveled, surveying the surrounding area. It was getting dim already and I had to reconcile myself to the fact that I would have to find shelter for the night.
What region was this? The Swamplands were in the opposite direction and I thought the Meadowlands were as close to the humans as pixies got. But it was apparent that someone lived here. I could see crude nests in some of the smaller trees, and there were rock formations by the creek that looked purposefully arranged.
Before I could fully get my bearings in the lowering light, someone grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth with a large hand. I tried to scream but the sound was muffled against flesh. My wings flapped uselessly against the stranger’s body.
Related products
-
Our First Time by Aniol Morze
This set of 20 stories, based on true accounts, is a series of confessions by women about the time they lost their virginity. I don’t think there will be many girls who were strippers before they lost their virginity, but I am one. I was never very worried about losing my virginity, it wasn’t something I attached a lot of importance to. But I hadn’t really found a good way to be with boys, I was a bit of a loner, I preferred to hang back and not be noticed. I had some friends, and we all seemed to go out in a bunch, which didn’t make it easier to pair up. I was at college, I was working in a bar to make ends meet, and I wasn’t doing very well. My parents didn’t really want me to go away to college, and they didn’t have a lot of money anyway, so I didn’t want to ask them for help, I wanted to show them I could make it. I worked hard at college, and I worked hard at night in the bar, but still I was struggling to pay my rent. The boss, Ray, was a good guy, he helped as much as he could, and gave me good shifts. But I mentioned to him that I was short of money, and he said if I wanted, I could work at a private party that was on next day. What sort of work, I said, a bit suspicious. Well, it’s a stag night, and they want strippers. I can only find one who’s available, I need at least one more. Can you do it? I was very embarrassed, it was odd talking to him about that, it sort of reminded me of my gender, I hadn’t thought like that with him. Do I have to strip? Can’t I do something else — dance, maybe?
He laughed, then he thought about it. Well, you’d have to take most of your clothes off. Maybe you could still keep a bit.
How about no touching, I said, I was nervous to think how a party could turn out. kay, he said, I’ll be there, I can keep an eye out for you.
I felt a surge of certainty and doubt at the same time. Okay, I said, I’ll do it. You can meet the other girl before the party, she’ll show you what to do, he said.
I didn’t sleep that well, I kept having thoughts about showing myself off, but I consoled myself with the thought that I wasn’t really going to go all the way. I think I even dreamt about being nude in front of a whole group of men, at school of all places.
The Portable Laura Roberts by Laura Roberts
Laura Roberts was born in 1978 and immediately began writing the story of her life, after staring up at a spinning mobile above her crib for a sufficient period of time and thinking, “I could do better than that.” Though the intervening years have seen her scribbling in notebooks, Harriet the Spy-style, as well as concocting rude gossip rags about her friends and family (hello, “Gossip World!”), she first debuted her special brand of insanity in a university-level screenwriting class, where her final project was a Hal Hartley-inspired fanfic tribute to David Duchovny whose climax saw the protagonist wielding two menacing halves of Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason in a boxing match against Duchovny’s real-life wife, Téa Leoni. She received an A from her professor, as well as the astute comment, “You got away with a lot.”
She has been getting away with a lot more ever since, including crime fiction, erotica, sex columns, an honors degree in Creative Writing and English Literature, thinly veiled tracts against her former home base in Austin, Texas, and a ninja versus pirates cavalcade.
Laura is the author of NINJAS OF THE 512, aka the best novel you’ll ever read about pirates, ninjas and evil politicians in Austin, Texas. Her second novel, NAKED MONTREAL, about her time as a sex columnist in the Sin City of the North, is available in serial format. She is also pondering a ninja follow-up that features ninjas versus robots. In her copious spare time, Laura curates the cheeky literary magazine Black Heart, which features indie authors’ poetry and prose on a daily basis, and lives in an Apocalypse-proof bunker in SoCal with her artist husband and their literary kitty, Nedward Carlos Nedwards.
THE PORTABLE LAURA ROBERTS is Laura’s most egotistical anthology to date, but she hopes her friends and fans will be amused by this diversion while they await the completion of her next novel.
This sampler contains many of Laura’s previously published short fiction including:
-CRIME FICTION-
17 Things You Never Knew About Val Capone
Murder in the Key of E
Snow Patrol
Wakizashi
Of Cocks and Existentialism
-EROTICA-
Aries
Libra
Taurus
Virgo
Sleeping Together
-LITERARY FICTION-
Metro Area Weather
Montreal in 7 Pieces
-POETRY-
Obituary
Montreal Winter
Halifax in a Sentence
Cheeky Haiku
PLUS an excerpt from her serial novel, Naked Montreal!
What Do Lesbians Do In Bed? 21 Sapphic Stories by Giselle Renarde
Have you ever wondered what lesbians do when they get together? Is it all fingers and scissors and lips between legs, or is there WAY more to the slippery story of lesbian sex?
In this hot new anthology, enjoy twenty-one explicit tales of lesbian love. From shoe fetish to opera gloves, sex in public to quiet winter mornings, from a taste of taboo to strap-on DP to extremes that shan’t be mentioned here to full-on Sapphic bukakke, even connoisseurs of fine girl-on-girl action are likely to discover a new idea or two in this sexy new collection.
Whether you can appreciate this book’s title ironically or you’re authentically curious about what girls who love girls do in bed (or in parked cars or at the office or in a church basement or in a restaurant bathroom), grab a copy today and get in on the nitty-gritty secrets of lesbian sex.
Giselle Renarde’s erotic fiction has appeared in over 100 anthologies, including prestigious collections like Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Lesbian Romance, Best Women’s Erotica, Girl Fever, and the Lambda Award-winning collection Wild Girls, Wild Nights.
The Great Art of Life is Sensation (The Risk of Being Tamed) by Ashton Rhodes
For the first time in her life, headstrong Ashton Rhodes was not in control. She had all but given up on being properly dominated. Her independent attitude left most men feeling they had taken on more than they could handle. Hendrix Larson however, showed no sign of intimidation when he thrust himself into her life.
Dismissing her apprehension, Ashton allowed herself to be lead into a world of absinthe and secret clubs where anything was possible. She was finally submitting to the unknown and was certain of nothing more than one simple fact; Hendrix Larson was not to be disobeyed.
MASHED: The Culinary Delights of Twisted Erotic Horror by Grivante
A Woman’s Corn – Two secret lovers with more secrets then either of them knew, brings about a special witches brew while the devil stews.
Charlies Chunky Munching Meat – A tale of obsession over a certain pink meat, gone too far.
Halloween Nosh – Two old-world vampires celebrating their love during the holidays with a special feast in the dungeon.
Biscuit : A Love Story – A baker’s dreams destroyed by a homeless man with unnatural hungers, leads to super-natural revenge.
Burnt Scrambled Eggs – What happens when your succubus lover stays over for breakfast?
The Disagreeable Dinner – Ever eaten a bad meal? Not like this one. Join us for this strange and hilarious case of food poisoning
Sugar – Honey is sweet, but when a potential sugar daddy turns out to be one of her high school teachers, a night of planned BDSM fun ends in a most unsavory of ways.
The Henry Problem – Fruit as an aphrodisiac, exorcisms for dummies? All that and more!
Nibble, Nibble, My Wolf – It’s all the rage to reimagine fairy tales these days and this story gets it right in the most beautifully twisted and erotic way.
The Wrath of the Buttery Bastard Taters – GMO’s are out of hand. A couples romantic dinner turns into a nightmare when their frankenfood decides to eat them instead.
Sauce – When cooking lessons lead to a new fetish, narcissistic Bart, takes self-satisfaction to a new level.
The Care and Feeding of your Personal Demon – Be careful what you wish for. Sometimes, asking for a little help from down below can come with a lifetime of demented and hilarious torment.
P.A.C.D. The Kitchen of Tomorrow, Today! – Advancements in technology are often quickly perverted for sexual experimentation. Find out what happens when a couple’s cooling romance heats back up with a new kitchen appliance.
Arabica – Do you like coffee? Maybe a little too much? Here’s a tale of a woman using BDSM aversion therapy to overcome her caffeine addiction.
Toilet Manners – Marital impropriety leads to the strangest meal of a man’s life after a visit to a glory hole inside a fancy french restaurant.
The Stray – Is the story of a man’s lifelong dedication to helping strays. But, what happens when one gets a little upset when he announces he is moving away.
The Old Man in the Suit – Voodoo and baked goods outside a lesbian bar during Mardi Gras.
Do you like food? Sex? Horror? Humor? Then this book is for you!
A Negotiation of Wounds by Michael Stephenson
Love and Happiness once dwelled together in homes throughout this world. But now, it seems as if more homes have come to marry the thoughts of Love and Divorce. In A Negotiation Of Wounds, the battle between the two paradigms finds it’s way into the public eye.
When Amanda Matthews finds her film producer husband Reed Matthews having an affair, she moves swiftly to file for divorce. But when, she and her husband attain the services of two cutthroat lawyers in the city of LA, they find themselves pushed farther into a world of deception than they dared go. Now they must wade through the dangerous and often hostile land of divorce, without losing themselves in the process.
A sexy, visceral, fast-paced ride in the vein of TV shows like Scandal and The Good Wife, A Negotiation of Wounds takes you on a journey through fame, pain, rejection, eroticism, self-discovery and love as one couple seeks to severe the ties that bind.
Shh… It’s Too Taboo: Seven Sinfully Sexy Stories by Terry Towers, Lexi Wood, Sasha Blake, Giselle Renarde, Jade K. Scott, Candi Cade, Saffron Daughter
Seven of today’s hottest erotica writers have teamed up to bring you a collection of taboo tales sure to get your pulse racing!
Introduced by the great Cheri Verset, “Shh… It’s Too Taboo” leads you through seven secret worlds created by seven naughty authors. Don’t be afraid to step into a realm of forbidden fantasy. You know you’re safe with Jade K. Scott, Terry Towers, Candi Cade, Lexi Wood, Sasha Blake, Giselle Renarde and Saffron Daughter as your guides. Let your heart palpitate as you lose yourself in more than 40,000 words of shocking sexual encounters.
You’re certain to love these seven sizzling stories every bit as much as our characters enjoy their hot and spicy sex!
Reviews
There are no reviews yet.