The Marvelous Michelle Polaris

I don’t know Michelle all that well, yet, but I have a feeling we’re all gonna get to know her a lot through her books. What I do know so far is she’s a bit of a mystery, very sweet, has interesting taste in erotic jewelry and writes HOT! The title is Bound Odyessy after all! grins…

Genre: BDSM Menage (Fem Dom)
Length: Super Plus Novel
Available from Ellora’s Cave:
Author Website:


The year is 2067 and Earth is self-destructing from environmental cataclysms. A portal to a new world is ripped open and refuge there is Earth’s only hope. Enter Jace, cowboy diplomat, who is preparing for the negotiation of a lifetime. A sexually conflicted alpha male, he hates everything with a cock, especially himself. The last thing Jace expects is to fall in love with both a woman and a man.
His dark history presents the ultimate challenge to Mira and Roman, the sexual Dominant team hired to prepare Jace for the female-dominant culture of the new world. Tragedy has made Mira distrust her Mistress abilities. Survival is her priority, and she resists her deep attraction to Jace’s haunted eyes and sculpted body.
Roman, however, falls hard and fast for Mira and Jace, ready to honor Mira as his Mistress and force Jace to recognize him as Master. Bound in one another’s chains and pushed to the limits of arousal and pain, they must outrun sabotage and conspiracy to find salvation for their bodies, souls and hearts.

October 4, 2067 New Denver Post web service. President Corrigan reflected on the seventeen-year anniversary of the cataclysmic gravity well explosions that changed our world during today’s ceremony, opening temporary housing units. The units are designed to address crowding in New Denver. In a solemn voice, he reiterated that this was a time when we must come together to face the greatest adversity and triumph over it.
* * * * *
Mira leaned into the precious man, the restraints attaching him to the St. Andrew’s cross squeezing his toned muscle and pale skin. Allowing little movement. She visually checked the buckles holding his body, making sure none damaged him as he struggled. His breath came in heaving gulps. Sweat and tears ran down his face, neck and chest in streams to glisten in the ginger hair nesting his genitals. The musk of the male animal, pushed to the point of exhaustion, smelled pungent in the room.
Mira pressed the stem of her crop into the red stripes covering his ass, eliciting another gasp. Her nipples tightened, the pulse of her pussy and the contractions popping inside her a constant reminder of how aroused the work left her. But today was about Eric, not her satisfaction. She was angry with him, true. But he’d wanted this from her. And she was worried about his recent behavior. As she released the buckle of his cock harness, she feathered a light breath against his ear, pressed her mouth flush to his lobe. Even over his groan of agony, she knew he heard her. “Come for me, Eric. Now!”
His body jerked, spasming under her grip on his cock. As he released, a long spewing of ejaculate made longer by the denial she’d forced on him, he cried out. “Mistress,” the plea and prayer as much a sweet song to her as the symphony of his contorted features lost in that high of sub space, that transcendent bliss that blew away all of the barriers of his soul. His eyes fluttered back in his head as his limbs lost all coordination in the little movement the bindings allowed. Finally, as his cock twitched with the final drops of semen, now dripping off his belly, he slumped into the straps securing him to the cross.
Mira kissed the wet bend of skin behind his neck, smiled up at him as she stroked his cheek. “Good boy, Eric. I’ll release you and that fine body of yours will rest.”
She undid the restraints, assisting him off the device as he leaned against her. Her strength allowed her to support his weight although he stood inches taller and weighed more. Mira gently wiped his body with a cloth dipped into the basin beside her four-poster bed. She feathered another kiss on his cheek and tucked him beneath her patchwork quilt. She’d sat for hours sewing together those squares, one designed by every client she’d allowed into her life since moving to New Denver. A labor of love. Now Eric strained to sit up from under it, grabbed her hand as she adjusted the covers.
“Mistress, forgive me?”
“You are forgiven, dear one. But if you ever go outside without your breather again, I’ll cane that ass of yours so hard and fuck it with a dildo so large you won’t be sitting for weeks. The hours I worked you today will seem like nothing.”
He smiled up at her in relief and she faked her own smile in return. Damn it, but why’d he taken such a stupid risk? She suspected she knew. A call for her attention after months of distancing herself from him and every other sub client she saw at The Marked Tree. He knew she’d be forced to punish him. He’d approached her today, craving it. Not once used his safe word to stay her hand. She hated the part of her that drew away from her subs. The last thing Mira wanted to do was hurt any of those under her care. They trusted her, and she betrayed their trust each and every day her bruised heart kept her from giving them her all. And time only made it worse.
At a tap on her door, Mira left Eric drifting off to sleep in her bed and she escaped into the hallway, grabbing her black silk robe and tying the sash around her waist to cover her corset. The light cream leather molded against her body, well broken in from years of wear.
Joanne faced her in the hall, creases marring her usually placid expression. “Moore is here,” she said.
“He’s early. Tell him to wait.” Irritation tightened Mira’s nerves.
Joanne had pleaded with her to talk to this man, one Randolph Moore, some stick-up-his-derriere government official from Joanne’s description. Ten years of working in this private D/s house, and not once was anyone allowed to meet here for business. That is, other than the business of gratifying the soul’s need for honest sexual expression. But this guy held enough clout to have Joanne shaking in her sleek, thigh-hugging boots. Seeing fear in her boss-cum-friend’s usually hard-edged eyes pissed Mira off. She protected her friends, no matter what.
“You said you’d do this,” Joanne answered with a spark of annoyance. Did she think Mira was backing out? “This house stood by you for years. We’ve made it through a lot. You owe me.”
Mira did owe Joanne. Guilt weighed down her shoulders like lead. Mira had backed out of her promise to take over The Marked Tree with little explanation.
“Fine. Give me ten minutes to change my clothes and get Eric settled in a free room. I wrung him dry and he needs recovery time.”
Joanne’s trademark grin was back. It relaxed Mira’s shoulders to see it. “Thank you. I’ll show him up after ten.”
Now Mira only had to keep her mouth shut and listen to this Moore before biting his head off whole.
* * * * *

Ummm…I think I might just have to read some more…

The Sensational Samantha Kane

And she is Sensational! She’s insightful, supportive, the life of the party (or so I’m told), and has excellent taste in espresso machines! She’s been a good friend and has always been ready with thoughts, advice, and helping me to get the word out about myself and my books. 
Sam has an amazing…AMAZING series at Ellora’s Cave called Brothers In Arms! Menage. Historical. Delicious! If you haven’t checked out this series before, you need to get started on it! You’ll love it, I promise!

Genre: GLBT Menage
Length: Novel
Available from Ellora’s Cave:
Author Website:


Brothers in Arms, Book Six

Gregory Anderson has reluctantly returned to England in 1817 after more than seven years sailing the world. Half Polynesian, Gregory is caught between two worlds. He isn’t looking for love. He’s only looking for a warm body with a modicum of wit and reasonable intelligence to help him get through the few short months he’ll be in England.

Nat and Alecia Digby’s marriage, arranged when they were young and foolish, was almost ruined before it began when they both took lovers. They don’t want to give up the erotic games they learned to play and enjoy, but they won’t risk their marriage again by falling in love with someone else.

When the three meet, they think it will be nothing more than a night or two of shared pleasure and erotic thrills. But the unthinkable happens, because love refuses to be forced into exile.


Nat stood frozen. Palu had elaborate drawings covering his upper right arm and shoulder. It was a complicated design of black swirls and patterns of dots and lines with a heavy black band perhaps two inches thick drawn around his biceps. As he watched Palu flexed his arm and the muscle bulged, tightening the band and giving the illusion that the swirls moved along his arm. The upper portion of the design ran over his shoulder onto his chest. Suddenly Nat knew what it was.

“I’ve read about this,” he said in wonder, reaching out to Palu’s arm. He hesitated and Palu moved his arm, indicating that Nat could touch it. When he did he expected to be able to feel the design, but he couldn’t. The skin was as smooth and hot as the rest of Palu. “It’s tatau.”

“Yes,” Palu said, and Nat sensed rather than heard his wariness. “It is /tatatau/ in my mother’s world, /moko/ to others.”

Alecia was running her hands over Palu’s arm, her delight evident. “It’s beautiful, Palu,” she exclaimed. “Is it a drawing?”

“Yes and no,” Palu said, relaxing under Alecia’s hands. “It is native ink made in the islands just for this purpose. They cut the skin with a small comb or chisel and rub the ink into it to make a permanent mark.”

Alecia gasped. “But that must have been incredibly painful! It is beautiful, but it sounds so dangerous, Palu.”

Palu laughed and Nat felt a catch in his stomach that he decided to ignore. He was allowed to like Palu, to find him irresistible. It didn’t mean he was going to fall in love. Even if the tataus were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“They were incredibly painful, pretty Alecia. But they are important in the Pacific, among my mother’s people in The Friendly Islands. They prove that you are a man, that you can take the pain. If I had not gotten them, I would have been considered a coward.”

Nat couldn’t resist any longer. He leaned down and licked a path along one of the complicated swirls of the tatau.

“You like them?” Palu asked in a husky voice. It was Nat’s turn to laugh. “Like them? I plan to lick every inch of them.”

Palu grinned down at him. “Good. Because there are more.”

Alecia was shocked. She admitted it. She had never seen anything like it. Palu had the tatau on his arse. They’d stripped his pants off in record time when he told them he had more of the beautiful designs. But they hadn’t expected this.

“It looks like you’re wearing short pants,” she said in wonder. The tatau on his behind actually covered him all over from his waist to above his knees. The design was similar to the one on his arm, although it was heavier here, covering nearly every inch of skin.

“This is the traditional male tatatau in parts of the South Seas,” Palu explained. “I was afraid at first, and so got the one on my arm. But after surviving that, I decided to get this. I wasn’t accepted until I did.”

Alecia fell to her knees behind him to get a better look, and Nat joined her. Together they ran their hands over the beautiful black ink designs. Giant black swirls covered the cheeks of his buttocks and then ran up to his lower back and down onto his legs. Without any hesitation Alecia shoved at a leg, forcing Palu to widen his stance.

“They’re on the inside, too,” she gasped. She grasped his thigh in both hands, and then ran one up onto his firm, muscular bottom.

“That feels good,” Palu moaned.

Alecia looked over to see Nat licking a path across Palu’s other cheek, following a swirl. The sight was so arousing Alecia actually felt the moisture rush from her sex.

“Nat,” she whispered, mesmerized. Nat opened his eyes to look at her and then softly bit Palu’s cheek.

“Damn, yes,” Palu groaned.

Nat grinned and licked the place he had bitten, making Palu moan again.

“He’s rather noisy, isn’t he?” Nat asked Alecia, and there was something in his voice she’d rarely heard before when they were with someone else, something hot and intimate that they only shared with one another. Yet Alecia couldn’t mind it. She wanted to share that with Palu, too.

Alecia moved to Palu’s front, still on her knees. The tatau was on his stomach and hips and legs, and Alecia moaned when she saw that it covered his cock as well. And it was a fat, beautiful, full cock. His brown skin and the tatau made it appear purple with arousal, and Alecia could see a heavy vein pulsing along the underside. The head was as thick as the staff, weeping with desire, and suddenly all Alecia wanted to do in this life was take that cock in her mouth and taste it.

“His cock has it, too,” she told Nat in a trembling voice.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Nat groaned, and he crawled around to kneel next to Alecia. “Now that had to hurt,” Nat commented breathlessly.

Palu chuckled and he sounded as breathless as she and Nat. “Yes.” He reached down and gently tugged at Alecia’s hair, forcing her to look up at him. His dark eyes shone brightly, his cheeks were flushed, and he had a dimple in his cheek as he smiled sweetly at her. A dimple. Oh God, she was lost. “I want you to kiss it, pretty Alecia,” he whispered roughly. He closed his fist slowly in her hair and pulled her forward and up. With a glad cry, Alecia let him.

“Yes, Palu,” she agreed, trembling with anticipation. “Yes, I want to do that, too.”

The woman just writes HOT! 

Samantha wanted me to mention to all of you that the first seven books in the Cougar Challenge series also from Ellora’s Cave is being featured next week. Samantha’s book, Play It Again, Sam will be the feature on Sunday, February 28th and she will be giving away a copy of it. Mari Freeman and her book Sin on Skin will be featured on Saturday, February 27th and giving away a copy of it. Click here for more info!

Birthday Girl Lissa Matthews (The Demon is an Angel)

This was my first Ellora’s Cave release!

Genre: Paranormal
Length: Novella
Available from Ellora’s Cave:


When ex-government assassin Delan is kidnapped by Riko, a sex demon, he’s taken care of and sexually serviced in any manner he desires by Riko’s personal sex slaves. And while not one to bemoan his good fortune, Delan is a man of action and in need of a mission. He’s about to be given one by the name of Angel.
Riko’s half-sister Angel is just that, an angel. Not just any kind of angel though, she’s a hybrid being—sex demon and sex angel. And she’s in need of being tamed. Barred by Riko from having sex with her fellow sex demons, she’s forced to suffer the inadequate fumbling of humans, both male and female.
When Delan and Angel meet, sparks fly. She’s defiant and he’s determined, but the lust and hunger hit them both between the eyes and below the belt. Sex is hard and hot, a little kinky and a whole lot naughty. But Delan needs to find something more than sex to rein her in, or she’ll destroy it all.
The fire raged out of control. Angel stood off to the side, blending into the gathered crowd, and admired her handiwork. The damn man hadn’t been worth her damn time. He had been nothing but a waste of an orgasm. She should have known better. She should always know better, and wondered when it was going to sink in finally that there was no human who could satisfy her needs and cravings. If her brother hadn’t forbidden every male demon from mating with her, she wouldn’t have to settle for less-than-stellar encounters. This human’s life was certainly going to look a little bleaker when he came home and found his house reduced to a pile of ashes, his bank account empty, and his boat sailing off to destinations unknown with a couple of women, looking to escape bastards like him, at the helm. She sighed. It really sucked that she couldn’t kill the ones who made her miserable, like her brother and the other demons could. Without that quality, she could only torture them, tempt them to destruction, and destroy or relocate their most prized possessions.
Men were such a pain in the ass, and not the good, pleasurable kind either. The women she’d come across hadn’t been much better, but then who could blame them? She’d enjoyed both men and women as lovers but it was all always empty in the end. They always wanted more, wanted things, wanted material things that didn’t matter, and she hated them for it. They were full of greed, always coveting what someone else had.
Demons were wasted on them, honestly. Humans could and did and would continue to destroy themselves without any outward help.
But as long as the demons were around, and since she was part demon, she’d help. She loved being bad, demonic, full of fire. She knew the dangers of drowning the angel inside. She couldn’t seem to help it though, couldn’t seem to give a shit. She wasn’t going to find what she wanted, what she craved with a human, a fact she’d long ago accepted, so what other choice did she have?
She turned away and crossed the street. Jumping in her little black car, she sped off with the radio blaring, passing the fire engines on their way to what’s-his-name’s house.
Her cell vibrated against her hip and she had the fleeting thought that if she’d placed it in her pocket, she might be having a pleasant thrill right about then. Damn hindsight and all. She would have to remember that.
Taking it out and seeing her brother’s number on the screen, she debated answering and finally decided against it. He knew what she’d done just as he always did, and she just didn’t want to hear it.
You’re killing him.
It was true too. Every time she blew something up, lost her temper and started a firestorm, or just instigated general mayhem, he knew and called to admonish her, to remind her… She didn’t need reminding. Riko had drilled it into her all her life. She was the one who could bring balance and she was tired of hearing about it. The demons would find another way to survive. They would have to.
As she pulled into her driveway, she could see the smoke over the tops of the trees at the back of her house. It would be a while before the good men of the fire department were able to put it out completely, and she tried not to think about what one of them or all them would look like naked afterward, showering away the soot and ash and sweat. Should she chance a stop by the station house to offer her services? The wicked thought made her grin.
“That your handiwork?”
Angel spun her head around at the voice. A man, a very average-looking man, was walking up her driveway. She looked him up and down with blatant hunger, mirroring the same look in his bright blue eyes. He was a walking cream dream in hip-hugging threadbare jeans and a T-shirt that outlined every muscle in his upper body. Okay, well, maybe not quite so average after all. He certainly made her panties wet. She flung the car door open and stepped out, slamming it shut, irritated that she was horny. Again. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Your brother.”
“My brother sent you? Why? Who are you?”
“Honestly? He wants me to fuck you, tame you and, get this…love you. And the name is Delan.”
Angel laughed out loud and in his face. Tame her? Love her? Was he serious? The fuck-her part she was good with, very, very good with. “Riko said all that?”
“Yes.” He took a step toward her. “Interested?” The last word, spoken softly, almost with a growl, had Angel feeling it right between her legs.
Yes. Oh hell yes! We are interested. Tell him we’re interested. “No. I’m not.” She turned on her heel, flipping long, dark red waves over her shoulder, sure to catch him in the face with the black-tipped ends, and started to walk away. His hand gripped some of the strands in a fist, stopping her flight and pulling her forcefully back against the solid wall of his chest. The hard cock pressed against her own denim-covered ass filled her with images of bending forward to take him in each hole.
On the one hand, she was outraged at his audacity to manhandle her like that. On the other hand, she wanted him inside her, leaning up against her car, not caring one bit if the neighbors watched or the paint got scratched.
Besides, her brother had gone to all the trouble to send him, she might as well take him for a test drive.
His lips were against her ear, rasping along the edges. “I wasn’t done talking to you.”
Two could play this game. Angel rubbed herself against him like a cat in heat. “Why do we need to talk? That’s not what you were sent here for.”
The fist loosened and his hand slid around the back of her neck to her throat, then up, until one finger slid between her willing, open lips. “No, you’re right, it wasn’t. Let’s go. Unless you’d rather do it out here in the driveway.”
She sucked on the salty digit in her mouth and bit down hard, harder, and not once did he flinch or try to pull back. Pushing his finger out with the tip of her tongue, she moved away from him and walked up to her front door with him right behind her, his shirt coming off before they even got inside.
Her shirt followed suit, over her head and onto the floor. His hands were on her bra, pulling the cups down under her breasts. “Oh yeah, just like that,” he grunted.
He tweaked her nipples, giving a hard tug before going to work on both their jeans. One hand on hers and one hand on his, the buttons were released and the zippers down. His mouth latched onto the tender skin between her neck and shoulder while he helped her out of her pants.
“Not in a hurry, are you?” The words were moaned as his lips traveled down her chest to latch onto a nipple, biting it much as she had bitten his finger.
Lifting his head, he winked and grinned. “In a very big damn hurry, actually.”
She watched as he shucked his own jeans and stood naked, his cock hard and thick, long by the average human standards. “That looks painful,” she said, reaching out to wrap her fist around the shaft, and was rewarded with an incoherent string of curses that made even her blush.
“It is,” he hissed.
“Then let’s see if we can take care of it.”

Let’s Get This Party Started! Cara McKenna!

We are starting off today with one of my very special guest authors. She currently writes for Ellora’s Cave and has a couple of very Smokin’ books. I mean, have you seen the covers? If not, well, just stick around and you will!

Brazen by Cara McKenna
Buy link:
My site:


The rules are simple. Be quiet, look sexy, follow orders.

Caroline’s plans for maintaining a harem of eager young men are going as smooth as could be, until a troublesome newcomer arrives and throws her tidy kingdom into disorder. He seems perfect at first. Breathtaking eyes, gorgeous face, a body custom-made to keep a greedy woman up nights.

But Sean’s got something else too—the will and the power to get under Caroline’s skin in a way she can’t stand. And can’t stay away from. He’s too disobedient to work out as a disposable toy in her harem, but it’d be a shame to waste a willing body as fine as his… Perhaps all the man needs is a little discipline.


    I dress in a cashmere turtleneck and a layered crepe skirt and flats, and I wander upstairs at my leisure. I pour two glasses of wine and find him in the den, the television droning softly, reading lamps glowing. He’s watching an old movie on TV, probably just the last channel I left it tuned to. I hand him the glass.

    “Join me,” he says, as if this were his home.

    I glare at him again but I sit and we drink, and we watch the movie for a few minutes. I know what’s going to happen between us and it frightens me, so I drink more. He takes the glasses after a little while and sets them on the coffee table, ignoring the coasters. I fix this transgression and then he pulls me back into the cushions and kisses me.

    It’s been forever since I’ve kissed anyone. Since well before the divorce, and even before the sex dried up in my marriage. My husband and I still fucked long after we quit bothering to be affectionate toward one another. The last time I did this, it turned my stomach. This time, it’s wondrous. Behind the wine, I can taste him. The faintest trace of salt and some elemental human flavor. His hands cradle my jaw, and he’s in charge. He starts with nips, little bites on my lower lip. Then suckling. His tongue traces the seam of my mouth then penetrates—just as it did to my pussy four nights ago, except this moment is a hundred times more intimate and personal and raw.

    I study his handsome face with my hands, feeling his cheekbones and his temples, pressing my thumb against the shallow cleft in his chin, brushing my fingertips over his closed eyelids.

    I pull my mouth away and ask, “How old are you?”

    “How old do you want me to be?”

    “Between twenty and twenty-eight.” I’m nervous now, hoping he’ll lie if need be. I study him harder. He has little signs of wear, a hundred tiny things that combine to create something the other boys don’t possess. Dignity. Experience. Substance and wisdom.

    “I’m going to disappoint you again,” he says.

    “My assistant is going to get a stern talking to. Didn’t he check your ID?”

    “He did,” Sean says. He kisses me. “He said you’d forgive him.”

    “So how old are you?”

    “Thirty-two,” he says, and I feel something cold drop into my stomach—danger. He’s young, but not young enough. It has nothing to do with the fetish, the taboo, the harem, the rules. It has everything to do with reality. In reality, I could never be with a man who’s twelve or fifteen or twenty years younger than me. It’s an impossibility and a relief. That Sean is only seven years my junior is scary. That I could be seen with him out to dinner at a restaurant and not be judged is terrifying.

    “This isn’t going to work,” I say. I pull away from him and I feel chilly.

    “I wasn’t suggesting it would.”

    “What do you want from me?” I ask again. “From this?” I wave my hand to mean the room, the house, the scenario. Us.

    “What do you want from this?”

    “I think it’s pretty obvious.”

    “Let me stay for the evening,” he says, “and I’ll show you what it is you really want. Just let me stay, and watch you with the others and you’ll see.”

    “You watch and I’ll see?”

    He nods.

    “You’re a cocky little shit,” I say, and I smile at him, amused. “Let me pour you another glass.”

Okay! Readers, don’t forget to comment and don’t forget to start following the blog for your chance to win presents! 
Our next excerpt will go up at 12:30PM EST!


Tongue Tied Tuesday

Looks good, huh? Yep, there will be cupcake baking this week. Margarita cupcakes, too. Seems a challenge was thrown my way on Twitter at the end of last week to make these and well, I’ll be doing so. I’ll also be posting a ooey, gooey chocolate/marshmallow brownie over on the Romance in the Backseat blog just in time for Valentine’s Day. Here’s the link to my last post at RITBS from my Loose Id release, Sugar Rush, titled Chocolate Chili Truffles and a Cowboy Surfer.

I’m not all that worried about Valentine’s myself. I am gonna be on the couch watching the Daytona 500. For those that care, I’ll be posting a special Daytona 500 blog on Sunday morning. For those that don’t care, well, your loss! Grins…

I have been writing a lot this week, rather for the last 6 weeks and I am nowhere near being at a place where I can stop and take a break. I am trying to write a few new pieces for Samhain, Ellora’s Cave, and I’ll be working on one or two new things for Loose Id. I’ll also be writing a couple short short Wicked titles for Cobblestone Press.

I made the transition and am still making the transition to full time writer/crazy person. I had been an editor but that was taking so much of my time and energy that I wasn’t writing. I was becoming a very not nice person, so I made the choice. And it’s a hard one to make. I had to sit down with myself and have a talk. I told myself I’d give it a year. If I couldn’t make any money beyond $30 here, $50 there with my writing, then I would go get myself a job. This is the first time since I turned 14 that I haven’t had a job working for someone else, even while pursuing something on my own. It’s scary. It’s hard. I’m addicted to a lot of things that I need to be able to afford…coffee shop trips, ebooks, office supplies, coffee and supplies to make at home, baking habits, love to cook, rock concerts, and Nascar races. These are things I’m not willing to live without and I’m a much happier person when I can do and have them. Therefore, I need to make money writing. Or make money somehow. I am also the one in charge of the extras of the family…kids clothing, shoes, school supplies, birthdays, Christmas, etc… Writing needs to pay for all of that, too. Sounds rather daunting when put down in words.

These are just a few, very big reasons I write full time. The other reasons are much more selfish, but not any less important. Those are the HAVE to for my own sanity reasons. Other authors will understand this.


They will also understand:


Oh, and…

men Pictures, Images and Photos

I’ve seen a little talk lately on blogs and author loops about the desire to write more female/female stories. There isn’t a huge market for it and I have to wonder why. Yes, we all love the hot yummy men, but there are hot yummy women too. Why don’t the readers like it as well? It’s a curious thing to me, but then, I like women. This is a topic I’m going to pursue at a later date. I have been seeing more and more female/female erotic romance lately and that makes me smile. I have an idea for a book that centers around 2 women friends that become lovers. There’s nothing wrong with it, nothing taboo about it. It’s more widely accepted in the media than two men together, yet, we women, and most definitely myself included, will buy up the male/male books. We crave them.


I am dying to read the book to the right, Beyond Curious by Paisley Smith. I would actually love to read a lot more female/female erotic romance, so if you know of any that you’d recommend, please do…

Now, I really must get back to writing…

Have a wonderful day!


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