Authors: Jude Mason, Emma Wildes, D. Musgrave, Jamie Hill,
Michelle Houston, Cheri Valmont and Skyler Grey
Publisher: Phaze
ISBN: 978-1-59426-992-9
Buy Now 

Two centuries, many owners, and the question has been asked…is it blessed, or cursed?

There is a certain house in New Orleans at 413 Remembrance Lane. Within the walls lives end and begin, myths and superstition blend with reality, erotic fantasies are realized, and always love has held the upper hand.

It is the house, steeped in history and the emotions of those who have lived there? Or perhaps the legend goes a little deeper.

Visit and find out for yourself…

413 Remembrance Lane is an erotic anthology from these bestselling and award-winning authors: Jude Mason, Emma Wildes, D. Musgrave, Jamie Hill, Michelle Houston, Cheri Valmont and Skyler Grey

413 Remembrance Lane

Of Death and Desire
©2007 Jude Mason

Prologue

October 15, 1898

Dear diary, that's how you're supposed to begin these things, or so I assume.  I never in a million years thought I'd write in one, let alone under these circumstances.  This was Jonathan's doing.  When he asked me to make this entry, it was something I had to do, for him.  He's given up so much.

The beginning.  Yes, that's where I should begin and then let his accounting tell the tale. 

Excerpt:

The bed was a mess.  Ashamed of his drunken behavior, he pulled the covers off and tossing them into the hall, on top of his clothing, and went to one of the smaller bedrooms.  The green room was clean and smelled of mint.  A large vase of it sat on a table under the window. 

The bed called to him.  The earlier exhaustion returned full force.  He dropped the towels and climbed under the covers.  The sheets were cool against his limbs, his torso.  His cock, dormant since he'd lost Philip, twitched.  He slid his hand down, into the thick forest of his pubes and cupped himself.  Then, there was nothing.

* * *

Soft wetness surrounded his cock.  A gentle tugging, sucking, encouraged an erection.  His balls churned.  His hips rose, buttocks clenching trying to extract the last ounce of pleasure from…  The head of his cock brushed the back of a throat.  He knew it was a throat—Philip's.  

He twisted to his side.  The mouth followed; the sucking increased.  He groaned.  His hips pulled back, then thrust forward.  The sensation was exquisite.  Hot, tight, and the air brushing his belly was the sweetest tickle.  His heart drummed wildly, threatening to burst from the emaciated confines of his chest.  He slipped his hand down and paused, afraid. 

He clenched his hands into fists; one at his side with the sheet gripped tight, the other empty, aching, on his belly.  His hips found a rhythm, a gentle thrusting, that had him breathless with desire.  Teeth scraped along his shaft, Philip's signature sucking technique.  Lips pressed to the base of his cock; again he was sure they were his lover's.  His climax neared, balls churned and crept in close to his body. 

"Please!"  He woke with a start.  His heart raced.  Sweat trickled from under his arms and formed a pool of coolness beneath him.  Automatically, he rolled onto his back, right hand going to his groin, to his cock.  Aching, rampantly erect and throbbing, he was a heartbeat away from spewing.  "Philip," he groaned, bewildered, filled with lust.

Thrusting the bedclothes aside, he stroked himself.  The hard length slid through his hands easily, pre-come slick.  A stroke, and his body tensed, another and his balls boiled.  Too long without release, too long alone, he shuddered and sobbed as a stream of spunk arced then splattered against his chest.  Another followed a moment later; his toes curl.  He choked back a sob and thrust himself into his fist.  The next few pulses coaxed only an oozing stream of his essence from him, and coated his fingers.  He squirmed for a moment, enraptured in the much needed release.

But, then his dream came back to him.  Philip's mouth.  Philip's teeth and tongue.  And then the memories of his death hit. 

"No!"  The single word tore from him, a vehement denial of his loss, of his longing and the heart-wrenching sorrow that just wouldn't leave him alone.  But, even as he remembered the dream and thought of how much he'd loved Philip, the pain was just a little less. 

* * *

Leaving the bed, he returned to the master bedchamber to dress.  The pile of bedding as well as his filthy clothing he'd left in the hallway was gone, thank heavens.  He couldn't get the memory of the dream out of his mind.  Philip had been there, he was sure of it.  But, that was insane.  Or was it?

The bedroom was a shambles.  Clothing was strewn from one end to the other.  The bed was unmade; medicines still sat on the night table, forgotten. 

While he dressed, he made a decision.  He would buy the house.  The thought of leaving it was more than he could bear and he knew the owners would sell.  It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

Dressed in trousers and loose fitting shirt, he went to the kitchen.  His gait was lighter than it had been for weeks.  He was hungry—famished.  He looked through one of the many windows and saw that it was sunny.  A new day.

The pleasantly plump, dark-skinned woman looked up from the bowl she'd been stirring and stared.  "Mr. Strand.  Sir, what you be doing in the kitchen?"

"Good morning…."  He paused, shocked that he didn't know her name. 

"It's Becky, sir.  Are you all right?"  Her look of concern was endearing. 

"Yes, Becky, I'm fine.  Thank you for asking."  He looked around the room, unfamiliar with the make-up of a proper kitchen.  "I want breakfast today.  Something light.  I don't think my stomach could take more."

"Yes, sir," she replied in a soft voice.  "Toast, maybe a little honey?"

His stomach rumbled.  "Yes, and do we have any fruit?  Apples, pears, anything?"

"Yes, sir, there's apples in the cellar.  I'll have Joshua get you some."

"Thank you, Becky."  He walked over to the window over the cast iron sink and gazed out over the kitchen garden.  The weather was still warm, but not uncomfortably warm as it had been a couple of months ago.  A walk in the garden appealed to him.  Turning to Becky, he said, "I'll be just outside.  When my breakfast's ready, call."

Getting to her feet, she answered, "Yes, sir.  I'll have Joshua get you.  Is that all right?"

"Sure is."  He left then, but not before he saw her pull a large round loaf of bread out of the cupboard and place it on the counter.  Life, it seemed, would go on.  He walked out into the garden. 

* * *
And now for a little about each of the stories included in the anthology:

In Jude Mason's 'Of Death and Desire', it's October 15, 1898. Jonathan Strand moves himself and his terminally ill lover, Philip, to one of the lovely historical houses of New Orleans. Later, consumed by grief and tormenting dreams, he finds a diary, and perhaps the answer to his prayers. But at what price?

In Michelle Houston's 'The Life Not Lived" Natasha has come to regret the choices she has made in her life, the biggest one being turning away from the one woman she had ever loved. But thanks to a late night visit from a succubus and the diary of 413 Remembrance Lane, she can have a second chance.

August 22, 1971: Let the Sunshine In, by Jamie Hill: Scott and Terri Walker move to Remembrance Lane hoping for a fresh start in their marriage. Handsome, hirsute Rafe McAllister isn't precisely what they're looking for, but might be exactly what they need.

Midnight Confession by Cheri Valmont offers a journey to the wild, untamed settlement of 1750s New Orleans. A place where a special house, a magical diary, and a pirate captain named Miles Chadwick hold the key to Catherine Ashbury's everlasting happiness...or complete ruin.

Skyler Grey's story, My Vampire, My Love, mix in an old house, a magic diary, a sexy young college student and a sinfully handsome vampire and you've got a story sure to stir the... blood.
 

The War Within (Circa 1945) D. Musgrave tells the story of William Beauregard returns from WWII, only to find the visions of the death and destruction haunting him still. He can't shake them and it's pushed him away from his wife, Sheila. These hauntings, have him afraid of the voices and images and worries he may lash out at them, hurting his wife. To rid himself of the ghosts, he must take a huge risk, one that could lose his wife to him forever.

 Phew, it's suddenly a lot warmer in here.   413 Remembrance Lane is available  from Phaze here: Buy Now