Hear Me Out and Proud

August 31, 2014


Sacchi Green is committed to the characters and contributors in Girl Fever.

She wants us to be heard loud and queer.

What's that? You're not a very good listener?

Well, Sacchi won't hear of it.

But she wants you to.

Which is why she's offering a complimentary audiobook of this Sapphic short-short story book.

Two of these lusty lady lit bits are mine: "Off and On" and "Femme's the Breaks."

What's that? You could hear a pinafore drop? Or something a bit more hot and modern?

Well, I'm glad to hear it.

Curiouser and curiouser,
Allison Wonderland

Applying the Finishing Touches

August 21, 2014


Here's your first look at the First Time for Everything cover for an anthology that covers LGBTeens' first kiss, first love, first time, first burst with gay pride and joy.

According to Harmony Ink:

Your publication has now completed the Editorial queue, and the master document has been turned over to the Publisher for final processing. The Editorial Department thanks you for all your work and wishes you the best of luck.

The anthology will debut September 4 in both eBook and paperback.

My contribution is a lipstick lesbian love story entitled "Kiss and Makeup."


Like any teenager, Gina is petrified of rejection. Not from all her peers, just her fellow queersspecifically those on the Sapphic side. Basically, Gina's spent most of high school being out but never going out. Then she meets Simone, a cosmetics salesgirl at the mall, and develops a crush on the beautiful beautician. Maybe it's finally time for Gina to kiss her insecurities good-bye and make up her mind to go for the girl.

Curiouser and curiouser,
Allison Wonderland

Bussel and Flow

August 11, 2014


Welcome, one and all that.

Whether you're a devotee who puts the "fan" in "fantabulous" or just turning on - er, tuning in - to the Can't Get Enough blog tour, you're just in time for "Under His Watch," an excerpt from Rachel Kramer Bussel's contribution to the anthology.

I'd say I’m lucky—if I believed in luck. What I believe in is making your own luck, seeking out not a soul mate who will fulfill your every whim, but someone who will make you not only a better person, but a more fully realized version of yourself. In short, someone who will make you feel lucky every time you look at him, hear his name, think about him, touch him, someone who will make you dizzy with desire and thanking God whether you believe in a deity or not that you found him and he found you.

That's what I have in my Leonard. Leonard is nothing like the dashing playboy types I'd been with before I met him. Leonard was fifty-one, a self-made millionaire content to let the younger men and women he'd hired run his software company while he worked on his house, played elaborate games online, studied art and traveled on occasion. I was a stay-up-all-night, thirty-four-year-old bartender, more concerned with where I was going to party that night than my investment portfolio or settling down.

We were opposites on paper, but the minute we met, I felt something in me shift, from my head to my toes, down deep in my soul, my marrow, and I knew we were destined to be together.

I didn't care about the age difference, or the fact that, at six feet tall, I tower over him by four inches, without heels. I cared that when he looked at me in that way he did when he approached me shyly at a friend’s cocktail party, I felt his gaze heat up my entire body. He was sweet and polite, no games, no lines, just appreciative as he poured me a flute of champagne. I felt that heat even as I knocked back my drink, leaned down and whispered in his ear that if he was up for it, I knew a cozy little closet were I'd f*ck his brains out. He  wasn't drinking, but he sputtered in shock, not used to women like me. For the record, he didn’t take me up on it just then—by now, we've f*cked in plenty of closets, but that night he simply let me do my thing, mingle and flirt and flit around the crowd, until it was time for him to help me with my coat, share a cab and a sensuous, deep kiss in the backseat and get my phone number.

Well, that's enough - the f*ck stops here.

To get it going again, get yourself a copy of Can't Get Enough.

It's a collection of prurient perfection.

Curiouser and curiouser,
Allison Wonderland