The American edition of The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance is available tomorrow!

My story in the anthology is called “Crimean Fairy Tale,” and I had some fun with naughty Victorian slang when writing it.

For your amusement, here is an excerpt, with some of the more colorful language included:

The whores lived on the edges of the camp, most of them in shabby tents they’d made over from army discards. Few had made any attempt to cheer up their muddy surroundings with gardens; the most decorative items Weston saw were petticoats and chemises hung to dry and fluttering in the chilly breeze. He could hear distinctive sounds through the thin walls of one of the closer tents, and a few hundred feet away, caught a glimpse of a red coat as another soldier ducked into a tent.

He hadn’t ventured far into their territory when several women converged on him, all talking at once and tugging his arms and the front of his coat. He didn’t like this much but was too ashamed to protest, for fear his distaste would result in their mockery. “My, my,” said a woman with bubbies like melons. “I’ll dab it up with you for a smile. Or how about a couple tots of rum? All the jam-tart you want, for a couple tots of rum.”

“I’ve not seen you before, me fine cocksman,” said a thin woman with a pointed chin. “Give my Lady Laycock a knock and your eyes’ll cross until you see your own nancy.”

A woman with graying hair grabbed his arm. “A lusty strong boy you are,” she said. “Just what I need, after that lazy lobcock I had today. Want a hot buttered bun, laddie?”


Anybody want to try and translate? *evil grin*