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About the author:
Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, and contributor to more than 100 short story anthologies, including Best Women’s Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bondage Erotica, and Best Lesbian Romance. Ms Renarde has written dozens of juicy books, including Anonymous, Ondine, and Nanny State. Her book The Red Satin Collection won Best Transgender Romance in the 2012 Rainbow Awards. Giselle lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.
What inspired you to write your book?
I was watching one of those “there’s a ghost in my house” TV shows (I’m a sucker for anything ghostly), and I got wondering what it would be like to live in a creaky old mansion haunted by a poltergeist… especially if that poltergeist was powerful enough to take over other people’s bodies to enact its sexual dominance. I hope I’ll never find out in real life (honestly, can you imagine?), but I wrote this novella about the situation. Be forewarned: there is some intense material in this book!
Here is a short sample from the book:
Closing her eyes, Artemis rested against the wall, listening to Budd and Vincent’s deep voices somewhere in the house. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was obviously about her. Sometimes she felt like she’d never be wanted anywhere she ended up.
That thought was pushed from her mind by a voice even deeper even than Budd’s. Growling, violently, it said, “You’re mine now.”
Artemis jumped up from the floor, looking all around the room. She felt like somebody was in there with her, but she couldn’t see anyone. Tentatively, she opened the large wooden wardrobe, half expecting one of Vincent’s squirrelly friends to jump out at her. It was empty, except for a little wooden box with strange words carved all around the sides. Curiosity erased the tension of the moment, but as she lifted the lid, shivers ran down her spine. The dread returned, even though the box was empty.
Something was in the room with her, watching her. She was sure of it. Something disturbing and malevolent. The hair stood up all along her arms. She felt like she’d been licked up and down her neck by a dirty old man, and she wiped it with the sleeve of her shirt, again and again, convinced she was removing someone’s saliva from her skin.
The bedroom door squealed open, and she screamed.
Budd chuckled. “Jumpy, jumpy!”
“Sorry, I thought I… heard something.” Artemis shook her head, then pressed the ill-fitting lid back on the wooden box. “I don’t know.”