Sell Short Stories Novels & Stories

ONLY good stories can get you exclusive contracts, nothing else. ONLY good stories can get you a high profit, nothing else. ---- (asked like a dozen times today, so updated this question here. 20230915

Don't get it wrong. Sometimes stereotypes were spot on correct and sometimes they weren't. This was again, another case in Brianna Samuels. She wasn't one of those bitches that everyone knew about because of stereotypes, that lived for gossip and brought people down just so they felt better about themselves. Okay, well Brianna did live for gossip, but mostly the harmless type of gossip and she definitely did not live to step on people. The type of gossip she lived for would basically be classified as petty theft in contrast to murder. Basically who dated who and who's hot and whatnot.

i lost my job but still had the payments to make on my new car. My parents helped me out but they’re struggling and I don’t want to have to sell it. I’d applied for hundreds of jobs and been rejected from hundreds of jobs. There was only one that I had instantly ruled out!! Sales assistant in a sex shop on the industrial park. As much as I needed money there was no way I was going to sell sex magazines and videos to dirty old men and have to look at them. The thought made my whole body crawl and my stomach heave!!!

I walk over to him and take his hands. "Jon, look at me. I'm telling you the truth. We'll explain more later, but we need to take care of this mess right now. Adam and Lester were selling these people. They were going to sell me, and Adam tried to rape me. My panther Skye ripped his penis off; that's why he's in there screaming." Shaun walks over and puts his arm around my shoulders.

“Says the Alpha who gave his Luna oral sex in dream land.” “That would actually a very interesting story plot.” “Exactly why we should be doing more adventurous things while fucking…to spice up our lives and make good story plots.” “Hmm.” “Yeah, you mentioned one time that Everlery likes writing…she can write erotica stories with what we do and who knows? We might be the inspiration to a bestseller book.”

“The collection, Dark Corners. I read the first four stories before bed last night, and I have to say I really enjoyed them.” “I appreciate that. I really do love working in the short form, but I had such a hard time convincing my publisher to release a collection. They insisted the public doesn’t care about short stories, and honestly Dark Corners didn’t sell anywhere near as well as the novels.” “But I bet it still made the bestsellers list.” “It did,” Brad said, shifting in his seat as if sitting on a rock. He was always uncomfortable talking about his work, and specifically the money he made from it; it felt too much like bragging.

I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Blackmailers always do. So I did the only thing I could do. I replied to the email. "I don't have $75,000. But I can offer you something better. Meet me at The Meridian Hotel, Room 1847, Friday night at 8 PM. Come alone. And bring the USB drive with the originals. If you want to discuss terms, be there. - Sophia" I didn't know what I was going to do when he got there. But I knew I wasn't going down without a fight.

Chapter 1 My fingers hovered over the send button longer than they should have. The thesis chapter looked perfect; tight analysis on Victorian repression and hidden longing but exhaustion had made me careless. I’d attached the wrong document from my desktop, the one I swore no one would ever see. My private journal. The raw late-night fantasies I poured out after Professor Brandy’s lectures, when his voice still echoed in my head like smoke. I hit send anyway. It was midnight and it was too late to fix it.

I flicked on the low lights over the king-sized bed and pointed. “On your back. Legs spread wide. Show me that hole.” He scrambled onto the bed, lying back and hooking his hands behind his knees, pulling his legs open like an offering. His hole winked at me — red, used, still leaking a thin trail of my cum. “Look at that,” I said, shedding my shirt and stepping out of my slacks. My cock stood rock-hard again, veined and angry. “Already sloppy for me. You’ve been walking around the store with my load inside you all night, haven’t you?”