This was posted earlier by ficlit78 in her blog...so I thought I'd re-post it for her!!!
Bella
Jul28by ficlit78
To my dearest virtual friends…
I’m so angry right now that I can barely write. Two weeks ago, a reader informed me that an author over in Vampire Diaries had lifted some of my work from Pretty Kitty and rewritten it into their own (horrible) story. I messaged and confronted them, and the work was promptly taken down.
It got me thinking…how often is my work plagiarized? So I Googled a few lines of my stuff, just to see what would come up… and I found something that made me sick.
Someone named Alexandra Anthony is SELLING my work in her own books called The Vampire Destiny series. You can buy them on Amazon and B&N, for fuck’s sake. I’ve written to the author directly through Facebook and told her to delete my work from her stuff before I contact Amazon and B&N, but honestly, the stuff is already out there.
Can anyone BELIEVE that someone had the fucking gall to steal my work and SELL it?
Here’s a (HUGE) excerpt:
“His hands reached for me again, gathering me in his arms and standing us up. He held my thighs across both of his forearms. My hips were splayed wide open above his pulsing cock, causing an unbearable need to rush over my body like it was the first time we’d made love. My hands clasped his shoulders and I moaned in delicious expectation as I waited for him to plunge himself inside me again.
Stefan didn’t make me wait. He never did.
“More,” he demanded, lowering me gently over him. Tears of exhaustion pricked at my eyes, leaving me to rest my heavy head in the crook of his neck. Once again my poor body instinctively responded, eager for more of him. My weary muscles welcomed him weakly. It was shocking how wet I was for him, and he met no resistance as he filled me up until we were joined once again.
How did he do this to me? How could I possibly want him more than I did before?
“Stefan…” I moaned out his name in reverence against his throat. My lips brushed against the softness of his skin, reveling in the sensation.
Sensing my fatigue, he chose a gentle pace this time, slowly lifting and lowering me, teasing him with me. He pulled out completely, only to thrust back in until I cried out. I had no control or strength, yet I managed to contract and clench my inner muscles around him. Rubbing my aching nipples against his chest, I nibbled gently on his earlobe. “My beautiful man,” I whispered distractedly.
“You are exquisitely perfect, Josephine,” he whispered raggedly. “There will never be anyone for me except you. You know this.”
His soft words filled me with my own smug pride. Nibbling my teeth against his cheek, I headed down his face to kiss his fangless mouth.
“I still never get tired of hearing it,” I murmured. Swirling my hips, I bent him in a tight circle, shamelessly coaxing his sharp fangs to come out and play with me.
He felt my intention, my desire for his bite crystal clear. “No,” he rebuked playfully. “You won’t break me, vackra. Your blood destroys my self-control.”
“You won’t hurt me,” I countered teasingly, swirling him again and again deep inside me. “Let’s see if I can bring you to your knees.”
He laughed at my bravado and gripped my ass, stopping my circles and slowing the pace. “Ah, someone is feeling confident. Prove it,” he rasped deeply as he stroked harder inside of me, crushing my bold assumptions.
Moaning, I gave up and clutched his arms, letting him take me harder than before. He was never one to back away from a challenge and he was determined to prove me wrong.
Feeling my surrender, his pace quickened further with excitement. “Morgonen är här. Kom med mig.”
His words caused me to fall helplessly with him into the abyss, vaguely hearing him shout as he emptied himself deep inside me for the countless time that night. Shuddering against him yet again, I helplessly melted against him.
My eyes heavy, I felt the bed rush up to meet us. Had he placed us there or had we finally collapsed, simply falling over from sheer exhaustion? Honestly, I had no way of knowing. I simply crumpled along with him, unbelievably wanting more, yet physically unable to even lift my head.
Shattered and drained, we fell asleep, tangled together in the covers and each other’s arms.
Twisting to my side to face him, I pulled myself out of the memory and back into the present. He looked almost exactly the same as when we’d entered the bedroom last night. He was more rumpled, but nonetheless gorgeous. Unscathed. Lying on his back, he was lost in sleep, oblivious to the fact that we’d destroyed each other for hours in this very bed.
Moving my arms to smooth his hair, the tattered sheet fell away and my eyes were drawn to my own naked skin. There were faint bruises on my hips and breasts where he’d held me, already fading as I brazenly admired them. I adored them and wished irrationally that there were more sprinkled over my skin. This is why he’d chosen not to share his blood with me. He had wanted me to wear his marks, if only for a little while. Taking his blood would cause my mostly immortal body to heal faster and he wanted me to see them, to remember how each one came to be.
Gazing back at his sleeping form, even my silent observations of him made desire swirl angrily in the pit of my stomach. He had warned me that we would be like this: insatiable and all-consumed with one another.
That had been the understatement of the century.
Stretching, I padded into the adjoining bathroom and flicked on the light, instantly catching my reflection in the mirrored room. The woman staring back at me didn’t even look like me. I looked wild, feral. Turning from side to side, I memorized every pale purple fingertip, the pink outline of his hand across my ass, the fading bite marks that scattered a path from my neck to my stomach.
The only thing missing were the marks from his fangs. They’d already healed. The tiny bruises and marks were already vanishing and would be gone by afternoon. Watching them disappear would be almost as frustrating as my numerous attempts to brand him.
Once again, my mind flashed back to hours earlier as I relentlessly attempted to mark him. The scratches and bites I inflicted on him healed within seconds, leaving behind his flawless, perfect skin.
He’d sensed my frustration. He’d kissed me tenderly, following the line of my cheekbones with his fingertips and lips. “I would gladly wear your marks if you could inflict them on me.”
I found this on her WordPress page, which leads directly to the booksellers.
So. I’m asking everyone to help me expose this fraud. I’m asking for help. It’s one thing for a teenager to lift my work for the reviews, but it’s another thing entirely to profit from my hard work. I’d love some advice, guys. Can you help me?
Love you,
Heather
Bella
Jul28by ficlit78
To my dearest virtual friends…
I’m so angry right now that I can barely write. Two weeks ago, a reader informed me that an author over in Vampire Diaries had lifted some of my work from Pretty Kitty and rewritten it into their own (horrible) story. I messaged and confronted them, and the work was promptly taken down.
It got me thinking…how often is my work plagiarized? So I Googled a few lines of my stuff, just to see what would come up… and I found something that made me sick.
Someone named Alexandra Anthony is SELLING my work in her own books called The Vampire Destiny series. You can buy them on Amazon and B&N, for fuck’s sake. I’ve written to the author directly through Facebook and told her to delete my work from her stuff before I contact Amazon and B&N, but honestly, the stuff is already out there.
Can anyone BELIEVE that someone had the fucking gall to steal my work and SELL it?
Here’s a (HUGE) excerpt:
“His hands reached for me again, gathering me in his arms and standing us up. He held my thighs across both of his forearms. My hips were splayed wide open above his pulsing cock, causing an unbearable need to rush over my body like it was the first time we’d made love. My hands clasped his shoulders and I moaned in delicious expectation as I waited for him to plunge himself inside me again.
Stefan didn’t make me wait. He never did.
“More,” he demanded, lowering me gently over him. Tears of exhaustion pricked at my eyes, leaving me to rest my heavy head in the crook of his neck. Once again my poor body instinctively responded, eager for more of him. My weary muscles welcomed him weakly. It was shocking how wet I was for him, and he met no resistance as he filled me up until we were joined once again.
How did he do this to me? How could I possibly want him more than I did before?
“Stefan…” I moaned out his name in reverence against his throat. My lips brushed against the softness of his skin, reveling in the sensation.
Sensing my fatigue, he chose a gentle pace this time, slowly lifting and lowering me, teasing him with me. He pulled out completely, only to thrust back in until I cried out. I had no control or strength, yet I managed to contract and clench my inner muscles around him. Rubbing my aching nipples against his chest, I nibbled gently on his earlobe. “My beautiful man,” I whispered distractedly.
“You are exquisitely perfect, Josephine,” he whispered raggedly. “There will never be anyone for me except you. You know this.”
His soft words filled me with my own smug pride. Nibbling my teeth against his cheek, I headed down his face to kiss his fangless mouth.
“I still never get tired of hearing it,” I murmured. Swirling my hips, I bent him in a tight circle, shamelessly coaxing his sharp fangs to come out and play with me.
He felt my intention, my desire for his bite crystal clear. “No,” he rebuked playfully. “You won’t break me, vackra. Your blood destroys my self-control.”
“You won’t hurt me,” I countered teasingly, swirling him again and again deep inside me. “Let’s see if I can bring you to your knees.”
He laughed at my bravado and gripped my ass, stopping my circles and slowing the pace. “Ah, someone is feeling confident. Prove it,” he rasped deeply as he stroked harder inside of me, crushing my bold assumptions.
Moaning, I gave up and clutched his arms, letting him take me harder than before. He was never one to back away from a challenge and he was determined to prove me wrong.
Feeling my surrender, his pace quickened further with excitement. “Morgonen är här. Kom med mig.”
His words caused me to fall helplessly with him into the abyss, vaguely hearing him shout as he emptied himself deep inside me for the countless time that night. Shuddering against him yet again, I helplessly melted against him.
My eyes heavy, I felt the bed rush up to meet us. Had he placed us there or had we finally collapsed, simply falling over from sheer exhaustion? Honestly, I had no way of knowing. I simply crumpled along with him, unbelievably wanting more, yet physically unable to even lift my head.
Shattered and drained, we fell asleep, tangled together in the covers and each other’s arms.
Twisting to my side to face him, I pulled myself out of the memory and back into the present. He looked almost exactly the same as when we’d entered the bedroom last night. He was more rumpled, but nonetheless gorgeous. Unscathed. Lying on his back, he was lost in sleep, oblivious to the fact that we’d destroyed each other for hours in this very bed.
Moving my arms to smooth his hair, the tattered sheet fell away and my eyes were drawn to my own naked skin. There were faint bruises on my hips and breasts where he’d held me, already fading as I brazenly admired them. I adored them and wished irrationally that there were more sprinkled over my skin. This is why he’d chosen not to share his blood with me. He had wanted me to wear his marks, if only for a little while. Taking his blood would cause my mostly immortal body to heal faster and he wanted me to see them, to remember how each one came to be.
Gazing back at his sleeping form, even my silent observations of him made desire swirl angrily in the pit of my stomach. He had warned me that we would be like this: insatiable and all-consumed with one another.
That had been the understatement of the century.
Stretching, I padded into the adjoining bathroom and flicked on the light, instantly catching my reflection in the mirrored room. The woman staring back at me didn’t even look like me. I looked wild, feral. Turning from side to side, I memorized every pale purple fingertip, the pink outline of his hand across my ass, the fading bite marks that scattered a path from my neck to my stomach.
The only thing missing were the marks from his fangs. They’d already healed. The tiny bruises and marks were already vanishing and would be gone by afternoon. Watching them disappear would be almost as frustrating as my numerous attempts to brand him.
Once again, my mind flashed back to hours earlier as I relentlessly attempted to mark him. The scratches and bites I inflicted on him healed within seconds, leaving behind his flawless, perfect skin.
He’d sensed my frustration. He’d kissed me tenderly, following the line of my cheekbones with his fingertips and lips. “I would gladly wear your marks if you could inflict them on me.”
I found this on her WordPress page, which leads directly to the booksellers.
So. I’m asking everyone to help me expose this fraud. I’m asking for help. It’s one thing for a teenager to lift my work for the reviews, but it’s another thing entirely to profit from my hard work. I’d love some advice, guys. Can you help me?
Love you,
Heather
