Newsletter: March 2017

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Erin Penn’s ScoreCard

March 1, 2017

Dear Readers,


I got accepted into an anthology –  We Are Not This: Carolina Writers for Equality. Originally published October 2016, the book now has a printed version available through Amazon.

The kindle version is available here:

The paperback is available here:

This publication is really big for me as several of my friends have been affected by the recent attacks by NC lawmakers against the LGBT community. All proceeds will be used to support charities within the community.

Great Reading,

Erin Penn



ConCarolinas 2017 (

Scheduled for the first weekend in June (2nd to 4th) in Concord, NC. I will be attending, but not the full weekend. Unfortunately I have another obligation all of Saturday. I will endeavor to be there Friday and Sunday. Look for me to be hanging around the Falstaff Publishing table, supporting the sales of the anthology.

ConGregate 2017 ( — Also DeepSouth Con this year

Scheduled for July 14-16 in High Point, NC. I will be attending as a visitor. On Friday, I will be wearing a medieval dress made specifically for the Hawaiian Shirt theme ConGregate has each year.

Pennsic 2017 (

Scheduled for July 28 – August 13 in Slippery Rock, PA. I will be attending as staff. Look for me at the intake booth. Also present each year is Michael Z. Williamson. He isn’t linked to me in any way – other than me buying books from him each year. The man is an awesome writer, and I love his Ripple Creek series.

Dragoncon 2017 (

Scheduled for September 1-4 in Atlanta, SC. I’ve never attended Dragoncon before; the scope and attendance levels are intimidating to an introvert like myself. ConGregate is just the right size; ConCarolinas pushes my envelope. Dragoncon is so far out of my comfort zone, I consider going to Mars instead a viable option. Wish me luck!



None scheduled at this time. Been busy with the website and making a newsletter.

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Flash: Flower Power

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Image courtesy of imagerymajestic at

“Gods, I cannot believe what a bunch of losers you guys have become.” Donnie waved with the hand not holding his beer, encompassing the group sitting throughout the upscale living room where they had collapsed after an exhausting evening of interspecies political wrangling. The rant went on and on about the old days and how everything had changed since his friends started pairing off with “the girls,” finally ended with, “We’re monsters for crying loud!”

The host adjusted himself on the arm of the cream and maroon striped settee to better watch his wife as she bustled around the kitchen. “Just because I have chosen to hand the reigns to someone does not mean I am tame.” He nodded happily as Ketzal gave him a wave before she opened the refrigerator. With her hidden behind the stainless steel door, Ebon returned his full attention to his guests, smiling with his canines exposed.

“Get real, the ring on your hand is like a ring through your nose,” Donnie sneered. “Dude, you are so pussy whipped I can’t even hear the crack of the leather anymore.”

Ebon moved faster than even the vampire of the group of immortals could observe. One moment Donnie was leaning against the sofa with Maria and Lorenzo, the next the shifter was holding him at arm’s length with Donnie’s legs swinging nearly a foot above the floor. Black hair sprouted along Ebon’s elongated arms, rock-hard muscular arms ending in claws around Donnie’s neck. The back of the dark elf’s head lay gently against an undamaged silk wallcovering.

Everyone stopped moving, and those that could held their breath.

“Do not think my marriage makes me any less dangerous.” Black eyes glowed red in the centers. Ebon stepped closer to the wall, bending the arm without effort while keeping the elf suffocating mid-air. He brought his short snout and full set of glistening teeth closer to the Wild Hunt rider face.

“Dinner is ready in ten…Ebon, my heart, put Donnie down.”

“Dead or alive,” he growled unmoving, staring into the eyes of his trembling prey.

Ketzal’s sweet voice replied. “I don’t really care, but if you kill him, you will need to dispose of the body after dinner.”

“What are we having?”

An exasperated puff came behind him. “What do you think?”

“Something tomatoey,” her husband replied after sniffing the air close to the elf’s neck.

“Creole Boil.”

If anything, Ebon’s toothy grin grew wider. “You live.” He opened his left hand.

Donnie fell to the floor gasping, rubbing his neck.

“And if you have a minute, can you fetch some wine for the meal?” The brunette swung her waist long hair behind her as the shifter stalked closer to her to give her ear a quick bite.

Whispering into it, which did not obscure the communication to anyone in the room because of their heightened senses, he said, “I will need to give it a taste to choose the right match.”

The goddess of flowers and ephemeral things giggled softly a second before turning her lips to his. “I just sampled the dish.”

He kissed her a long moment.

“The Sidewood Sauvignon Blanc, 2012, should do.” He opened the small door between the living room and kitchen for the wine cellar stairs.

The satisfaction of Ketzal’s sigh left no doubt about the happiness of the couple’s relationship, even as it moved into its second decade. “Dinner is ready for seating as soon as someone helps me set the table.”

Tykevius and Carissa glided from where they had been hovering near the ceiling toward the dining area.

“Oh, and Donnie.” Ketzal’s musical tones carried the bass throb of power.

The elf snapped his head toward the Aztec goddess.

Her sweet smile looked even scarier than her husband’s. “I wouldn’t have seconds if I were you.”

(words 636, first published January 15, 2017)