Cyvarwydd. The online home of author Dayle A. Dermatis / Sophie Mouette / Andrea Dale / Andrea Loewen / Sarah Dale. kuh-VAR-ooith. Welsh, meaning storyteller. (Modern spelling: cyfarwydd)

Sophie Mouette

2009-02-08

More charity sales!

I’m delighted to report more “sales” to a new charity anthology! This one is Coming Together: Al Fresco, and proceeds will benefit Conservation International. (Again, I say “sale” only in that the works will be published; I don’t get paid.)

But what a table of contents! Along with my story (“Outside in the Rain,” as Andrea Dale), I have a Sophie story written with Teresa (“Slow Burn”) and we’re in the company of a slew of other excellent writers.

You can pre-order the book here if you so desire! (Publication date is Earth Day 2009.) Remember, it’s for a good cause!

2008-11-21

Multiple Sales!

I’ve got several sales to announce, so I’ll just squee about them all in one post!

I sold “Come to My Window” to the anthology Where the Girls Are: Urban Lesbian Erotica, and Teresa and I (as Sophie, natch) also sold “On Display” to the same anthology! We wrote “On Display” back in 2004, and there’s always an added sweetness to a sale for a story we’ve stubbornly kept in the mail, sure it’ll find the perfect market.

Also, I just got word that my story “Mirror Mirror” will appear in the Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories anthology, which will be out in March 2009.

2008-07-15

Sale to Best Lesbian Love Stories 2009!

Teresa and I have sold “Food for Thought,” a delectable romance involving girls and food, to Best Lesbian Love Stories 2009!

We wrote this story about four years ago and we’re thrilled it’s found such an illustrious home.

2008-06-26

Sale to Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica Vol. 8!

And another sale! The Sophie story “Behind the Masque” will be in The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica Vol. 8! It first appeared in the Wicked Words anthology Sex With Strangers.

Oh, it was such a fun story to write. How can you go wrong with jewel thieves?

The Lucchese Star. Sixty carats of sapphire, as big as your fist. Makes your mouth water just looking at it. Makes you think of Caribbean seas, the summer you were ten, the eyes of the lover that got away.

Inside my turquoise doeskin gloves, my palms itched. They didn’t sweat, not a drop; I wasn’t nervous. It was all about the anticipation, baby. The lead-up. The foreplay.