- Boys Who Go Bump In The Night by JL Merrow and Josephine Myles
Boys Who Go Bump In The Night by JL Merrow and Josephine MylesHot
We both started by writing short stories. In fact, we first met in the spring of 2010 at a small gathering of authors in a Bristol pub, celebrating the launch of an anthology of gay romance short stories (I Do Two). I’d recently started writing and publishing my own erotic short stories and was voraciously reading as many in the genre as I could. Jamie (JL Merrow) had a story in the anthology, and I’d loved her authentic British voice and native humour so much I fangirled her via email, and she told me about the meet up. The rest is history.
Now we’re both award-winning novelists, neither of us write many short stories these days, but they’re how we learnt our craft. They are also wonderful as a way to experiment with genres we might not want to commit to for a whole novel. As the rights to our early short stories revert to us, we’re taking the chance to republish them together, grouped by genre. This is our paranormal collection, and we already have a collection of bisexual menage stories out there, Mad About the Boys. Look out for more in the Mad About the Brit Boys series coming out in early 2016, featuring science fiction, MMM menage, and contemporary gay romance.
We hope you enjoy the stories in this collection. Be warned, they’re all very short, spanning from under 2000 to a scant 3000 words, but we think we managed to pack an awful lot into them. While Jamie has gone on to write several longer paranormal novels and novellas, I chose to specialise in contemporary erotic romance. Reading back through these stories, though, I’m remembering how much fun it is to play with magic and monsters. Who knows, perhaps there’ll be more of them in my writing future!
Cheers for reading,
Josephine Myles, November 2015
Excerpt from Leeches and Layabouts by JL Merrow
Crispin's undead heart beat a little faster when the young man slouched into the dimly-lit hotel room. Admittedly, that just meant it beat roughly four times a minute instead of the usual three, but that seemed to be all that was needed to fuel the rapid redeployment of blood currently taking place in the lower half of Crispin's body.
It wasn't so much that the fellow was good-looking—although sun-bleached curls, an easy golden tan and pecs you could bounce a bulb of garlic off were nothing to be sneezed at—but he smelled divine. Crispin's fangs descended unbidden whilst some sort of internal pulley system seemed to cause his cock to rise commensurately and zip off a snappy salute. Damn it, why was he reacting like this? It wasn't like he was a blushing virgin, bloodsucking-wise. He'd come to a pragmatic arrangement with an ex—the original Stinky Pete for whom Crispin's prize-winning hybrid had been named, although thankfully Pete's personal hygiene had improved beyond all recognition in the meantime—trading a suck for, well, a suck. But Pete had never come close to turning him into the mindlessly slavering bag of hormones and lusts that was currently occupying his shoes. In fact, Crispin had come to the depressing conclusion that he didn't actually like the taste of blood all that much—it was just so, well, bland.
But this boy... Crispin could almost taste the rich, thick blood coursing through his veins. This boy would be a banquet. This boy came with seventeen Michelin stars and a personal recommendation from Gordon F Ramsay (the F, obviously, standing for the chef's favourite expletive).
“You're hired!” he managed to stutter out thickly from behind his fangs. “You can thtart immediately!”
Art staggered back a few paces in shock. “But... didn't you read the t-shirt?”
The vamp shrugged. “That's supposed to be writing? I thought it was just random hieroglyphics.”
“Smell the garlic?” he went on desperately.
“Did you say garlic?” The vampire's eyes seemed to light up. What with the fangs and all, it didn't make him any less scary. “You like garlic?”
“Love it! Can't get enough of the stuff! In fact I'm addicted to it. Did I mention I'm not keen on vampires?” Art fumbled behind his back for the doorknob.
“Good. I can't stand them myself. Crispin Weebly: Garlic farmer.” He held out a hand.
My feelings went up, down, left, right and round and round reading this book. It is funny, touching, sad, funny, sweet, sexy, and deep in fairly equal measure! (Maybe a little extra funny in there.)
Each story is short, far shorter than I would normally like, but each one was engaging, complete, very different and a joy to read. I kind of assumed I would love this book, given who it was written by....and I wasn't wrong!!