Thursday, July 10, 2014

Covers for my new series

Check out the gorgeous covers for my new series from Avon Impulse (due out this September)

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Great review for Whatever He Requires

Well sometimes folks great things come in small packages and this is one of them.  A short read but nonetheless packed with lots of details, great character development, and of course your HEA.  You will love the Billionaire British-German Dominate, meets up with the nurdy smarty pants and sparks fly.  I love a man that can cook and I mean really cook in the kitchen and the bedroom, and the shower, etc.  This is a hot read with a little kink that turns out to be just perfect.

Friday, March 7, 2014

New release from Etopia Press - Whatever He Requires

Chapter One

She was to perform all the duties Sir Peter Breit required. The e-mail actually said that. Verbatim.

Then it got even better, or it would have, if it was meant as a joke. But it was worse, actually, because Larry Sullivan, her boss, didn’t joke around when discussing prospective buyers at Hawthorne House:

As a Knight of the Realm, Sir Peter expects and receives top-notch service wherever he goes. We’ll give him nothing less during his stay in the property. Wine him, dine him, flash your big brown eyes at him. Make sure he enjoys himself no matter what you have to do. Am I making myself clear? We’re all counting on you, Susan.

Well, screw that. Susan Christopher switched from Internet to telephone and called the offices of Bay Vista Properties Limited. If management wanted to order her to play babysitter—or worse—to a blue-blooded British billionaire, they could tell her to her face. Or voice, or something like that.

“Good afternoon, Bay Vista Properties Limited, this is Lauren speaking. How may I direct your call?” Lauren parroted.

Good Lord, Lauren had to have a pair of lungs to get all that out in one breath. Susan waited a second to make sure the receptionist had finished. “I need to talk to Larry.”

“Susan?” Lauren said.

“Who else? Is the boss man there?”


Which meant Larry was dodging her calls, and that was a very bad sign. When she’d hired on at the company a year ago as a combination concierge and Jane-of-all-trades, she’d made it clear to Larry that she’d bend over backward to keep the customers happy…within reason. That meant maintaining professional relationships at all times. She’d emphasized the word professional when she’d accepted the job so Larry would understand that meant no flirting, no touching, and nothing more intimate than a handshake. Over time, Susan had become used to unusual requests from customers. After all, one didn’t plunk down a couple million dollars for a prime piece of real estate in San Francisco without expecting beyond-the-call-of-duty service. She’d walked dogs and delivered laundry. She’d picked up stray relatives at SFO, Oakland, and San Jose. She’d hooked up computers and spent hours on the phone with tech support. No one had ever asked her to perform whatever duties some man said he required.

“Did he tell you what my latest assignment was?” Susan said.

“Something about an insanely wealthy Englishman who’d bought the top floor of Hawthorn House,” Lauren said. “He’s really excited.”

“Excited? Desperate is more like it.”

“You know how much that place cost to buy and restore. If Larry can’t sell the units, the company is in trouble.”

And so was the job that would get Susan through architecture school. Nothing else paid as well or fit into her class schedule. Besides, old buildings, like Hawthorn, tugged at her love of fantasy. These days no one bothered with luxurious materials or fine detail. All that came with a price that would choke your everyday millionaire. Sir Peter Breit hadn’t flinched at how much it would cost him, but he had come with a long list of demands.

“Does anyone know anything about this guy?” Susan asked.

“Other than that he’s filthy rich?”

“Like how old is he? What does he look like?” Did he like to play slap and tickle with the staff?

“What do you care?” Lauren said. “You’re not going to be sleeping with him.”

“Gawd, no. He’s probably horse-faced, old, and bald.”

“Well then, what’s the big deal?”

“I’d like to know his intentions,” Susan said. “And if I’m going to have to wear a chastity belt.”

Lauren giggled. “In a fight with a droopy, old Englishman, my money’s on you.”

“I don’t like having to give some idiot the knee to the privates,” Susan said. She’d do it if she had to, of course. No one put one over on Mrs. Christopher’s little girl.

Lauren’s giggles stopped. “Do you think it would really come to that?”

“Don’t be na├»ve. Men get ideas, especially the privileged types.” Like men with Sir in front of their names. “They figure you’re there to serve them any way they want.”

“Larry wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Not to my face, which is why he’s ducking my calls and sticking to e-mail.” Lord, please, let her be wrong about this. The fluttering in her stomach told her she wasn’t.

“Maybe you can get him to hire a temp to do the job. After all, you’re not really secretarial material,” Lauren said.

“A temp? Are you kidding? Someone from outside the company? Not going to happen.”

“You can take care of yourself,” Lauren said.

“Yeah, I can. I just hope I don’t have to.” She searched her brain for some way out of this mess. When she didn’t find any, she sighed. “I guess if Larry’s not going to let me talk him out of this insane assignment, I have no choice but to wait for the guy to show up with his ‘requirements.’”

“When’s he due?”

Susan checked her watch. “In an hour. More than enough time for me to make a last pass through the condo.”

“Give me a call once you’ve seen him. I might be interested,” Lauren said. “If he isn’t too droopy.”

“Get serious, girl.”

“Who says I’m not?”

“Bye.” Susan broke the connection and headed toward the back of the unit. New appliances stood ready in the laundry room, although Sir Peter hardly sounded like anyone who’d use them. If asked, she’d take his things out to be cleaned as she had for other clients. She would not fold his boxers.

The kitchen gleamed with stainless steel stove and refrigerator. Copper pots hung over a butcher block worktable. Not knowing Sir Peter’s tastes, she’d stocked the fridge with the basics and a few luxury items, and a wide variety of wines filled a climate-controlled cabinet almost as tall as she was. Important things first. With everything spotless there, she proceeded down the short hallway to the master bedroom suite.

The lord of the manor had his own sitting room—a custom a British knight would find fitting. The antique writing desk complemented the hardwood floor and Oriental area carpets. All very discreet and in keeping with the age and style of the house.

Past the sitting room lay the master bedroom with its plush carpeting and airy space. The huge bed sported a canopy of muted desert colors in brown and red that fell to the floor at all four corners. Matching drapes billowed around the doorway that led to the balcony. In the unusually warm weather she’d left the French doors open. In general, the house stayed cool, but Sir Peter could turn on the central air conditioning if his English blood was too thin to stand a little heat. After a quick check of the bathroom with its huge shower and sunken tub, Susan left the suite and headed toward the front of the building.

She’d just passed the formal dining room when a buzzer sounded from the foyer. The signal that someone was down at the main gate asking for admittance. She glanced at her watch again. Far too early for her client’s arrival. Still, she went to the front hall and pressed the button to speak to whomever was waiting for her to let them in.


“Sir Peter Breit,” a heavily accented English voice replied.

“Now?” she said. “He’s not due for nearly an hour.”

“Sir Peter Breit,” the man repeated.

She pushed another button, one that would open the gates long enough for a car to come through. If not the great one himself, this could be someone who worked for Sir Peter. Maybe this person would fill some of Sir Peter’s requirements and let Susan off the hook.

She went to the window to get a view of the newcomer and watched as a limousine made its way up the drive. Because the car’s windows had a dark tint, she couldn’t make out anyone inside. At the front steps, the limo stopped and a man climbed out. Or rather unfolded himself out, because when he’d straightened, he revealed himself to be of considerable height. He wore a suit that seemed sculpted for his body. With wavy dark hair and a strong jawline, he could have graced the pages of a gentlemen’s magazine.

This for sure couldn’t be Sir Peter. For one thing, it took decades to acquire the sort of wealth one needed to buy this property. A person generally didn’t become a billionaire or an English Sir before the age of sixty. Fifty at the very earliest. This man must work for Sir Peter and had come to check things out before his boss arrived. Fine. She could deal with him, even if he did resemble a Greek statue come to life.

When the main entrance to the building buzzed for admittance, she didn’t question the man, but pushed the button that would free the lock. Then she opened the door of the flat and waited for the antique elevator to make its way to the fifth floor. With her hands folded together before the skirt of her business suit, she straightened her shoulders and did her best to appear businesslike.

At age twenty-two that wasn’t easy. People often judged her because of her age, despite her advanced education. So she wore the company uniform—navy blue suit with pinstripe blouse beneath the jacket, small red tie at her throat. Pantyhose and sensible heels completed the outfit. Prudish, but effective in making her appear serious to narrow-minded clients.

After a few clanks and groans, the elevator arrived at the fifth floor and the man let himself out. Propping the door open with his foot, he pulled a couple of suitcases and a laptop into the hallway. Definitely not Sir Peter. The exalted CEO of a luxury car company wouldn’t tote his own luggage.

When he finally spotted her, he did the usual double-take, his head jerking slightly in surprise. “Miss Christopher?”

“Ms. Christopher.” She extended her hand. “You must work for Sir Peter.”

“Not precisely.” Precisely. How veddy, veddy British. He spoke with one of those accents that made you wish he’d read the phone book so you could listen for hours. Honey-soft. Pear-shaped tones. And while the sound of his voice washed over her, he clasped her fingers in his larger ones. His palm felt warm and dry against her own.

After a few seconds, she pulled her hand free. “Let me help you with the bags.”

“No need.” He juggled all his bags inside the condo, and she entered behind him, closing the door with a soft click of the lock.

She didn’t say anything about the condominium and its amenities. The place spoke for itself. He made a full circle, first gazing at the restored wainscoting and cherry wood furniture. Some pieces were authentic Victorian and others reproductions, but all fit with the natural elegance of the house.

“Not bad,” he muttered as he walked to the marble fireplace and admired the brass fittings. A large vase sat on the mantle, full of enough sprays of cymbidium orchids to cover a parade float. Turning, he placed his hands at his back and stared up at the lofty ceiling. “In fact, it’s rather good.”

Susan couldn’t help but bristle a bit. “Rather good” didn’t begin to describe the splendor of Hawthorn House. Whoever this man was, he wouldn’t have studied architecture as she had, but if he had a soul, he had to be moved by the beauty here.

“If Sir Peter finds something unsatisfactory—” she said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“—he can change anything he wants,” she continued. “He owns the place.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “For now.”

A silence settled over them as they sized each other up. He certainly appeared to be doing that, as his gaze traveled over her. Not intrusive or lecherous but just curious, he took in her clothing and her hair, which had more or less remained in the French braid she’d shelled out good money to get done at the stylist’s. For her part, she noted the gray-green of his eyes, a shade that seemed to change depending on the light. Right now, standing far from a window, they took on the color of the ocean before a storm.

After a bit, all the quiet seemed to settle on her shoulders, and if she didn’t move, she might actually tremble. Clearly, she’d never win a game of staring with this man. Whoever he was. She walked to a chair and set her hands on the back of it. “Will Sir Peter be arriving soon? I’d like to show him the condominium.”

He gestured toward the dining room. “Show away. I’m here.”

To read a more explicit excerpt, visit here:

Thursday, February 6, 2014

New release from Changeling Press - Love Goddess

PLEASE NOTE:  This is a PG excerpt.  The story is X rated

Chapter One
“Another failure, huh?” the chameleon said. “Too bad.”

Tatiana glanced from the display in front of her toward her familiar. He’d turned the same color as the tabletop -- a warm brown suggestive of mahogany -- and he was doing his statue thing… standing perfectly still as if he were made of wood, too. The posture didn’t keep him from mouthing off at her, though. Maybe she could still trade him in for a black cat.

“They’re screwing each other’s brains out.” She gestured toward the display. “I don’t know how you can call that a failure.”

Larry made a jerky movement toward the screen, cocked his head, and studied Tatiana’s latest subjects. “Yeah, but it’s just sex.”

“What do you mean just sex? Sex is the whole point.”

He relaxed back into his earlier pose. “If you say so.”

Tatiana checked the couple again -- two shy people who’d had the hots for each other for years before she brought them together. In what they thought was the privacy of his bedroom, they’d gotten naked some time ago, and now he lay on top of her, her legs wrapped around his hips as he humped like mad. Their voices blended together into a chorus of “Yes. Oh, God, yes. More, more. I’m going to come.”

As aspiring love goddess for the inhabitants of this human dimension, a different one from her own, Tatiana had to watch to make sure her couples stayed on the right track. She’d always expected to enjoy the evidence of her success. Now, it just made her ache, all because of the absence of the man who’d always promised he’d be her partner. Lucius could soothe the ache if he were here. Instead the sonofabitch had become heir apparent to his father’s kingdom and didn’t have time for trivial matters like spreading love throughout the human world.

So she had to enjoy watching better sex than she’d ever have without Lucius around. Then to make matters worse, the human male decided to get creative and climbed off the woman long enough to position himself, kneeling, at the end of the low bed. When she whimpered, he bent to capture her hips and pull her toward him. In their new position, she could see virtually everything, and there was a lot to be seen.

“They’re going to climax soon,” Larry said.

“I noticed.”

“Then what’s going to happen?”

“How in hell would I know?” she answered.

“You want to be a love goddess. It’s your business to know.”

The grunts and moans from the display were growing louder, more insistent. She reached for the control to turn the display off.

“Don’t,” Larry said. “See what they do now.”

“Why? My work is done.”

“Is it? Or are you afraid to see if you’ve succeeded or not?”

Wise ass. She glared at the lizard. “Oh, all right. If we must.”

The man scrambled up onto the bed next to the woman, and the two of them lay, not touching but staring up at the ceiling.

“That was great,” the woman said after a minute or two.

“Yeah, really,” he said. Neither moved for the other. After another long moment, he stretched. “Want something to eat?”

“I’d probably better get home,” the woman answered. “Early day tomorrow.”

“Right,” he said.

The woman got up and searched around for items of her clothing on the floor. “Next week?”

“Sure thing,” he said.

“Seen enough?” Larry asked.

Tatiana turned off the display and watched as the screen turned back into a fish tank, complete with mechanical but lifelike fish swimming around. Unfortunately, she’d watched them often enough to know the pre-programmed pattern of their movements. This one to the upper right corner, the other one down below. Dull and predictable. She ought to get something real to watch someday.

“So, what’s your point?” she said.

“Did that look like love to you?”

“I get them together. Love is their responsibility.”

Larry turned a vibrant green -- not the usual response for a creature who usually did his best to disappear into his environment. He obviously didn’t like her answer. “How did you get so far away from your real purpose?”

“What do you know about my job? You’re a reptile.”

“A two hundred year old reptile who’s been around humans my entire life,” he said. “When they don’t love, they behave badly. I signed on with you because I thought you could help them out.”

Tatiana leaned back in her chair, stretching her feet out in front of her. Twisting her head to one side and the other, she did her best to work a kink out of her neck. Maybe the lizard had a point. She’d managed quite a bit of success with the sex part of getting her people together, but they never seemed to go beyond the physical.

When she’d started on this pathway, she’d had a male partner. The hierarchy would never have accepted her into training to become what humans thought of as gods if she hadn’t. When Lucius had abandoned her, the males in charge had predicted she’d fail, and now she was proving them right, damn it all.

“If you had a mate, you’d understand,” Larry said.

Oh, right. The world’s answer to all of women’s problems… a man. “I don’t need a mate.”

“You spend all your time watching other people have sex. Doesn’t it drive you crazy?”

“I have sex, too.”

“Oh yeah?” Larry said. “When?”

“Let’s see…” The last time had been the Wednesday before. No, Tuesday. She’d gone to the pet shop to buy Larry’s grubs and crickets. The guy behind the counter had had a cute smile, so they’d hung a “closed” sign on the door and had ducked into the store room. The whole encounter hadn’t taken very long, and he’d turned out to know more about reptiles than women’s bodies. Still… she’d had an orgasm. Eventually.

“See? You’re not even having sex any longer,” Larry said.

“I’ve forgotten more about sex than you’ll ever know.”

“My point exactly. You’ve forgotten.”

“All right. I’ll get all dressed up tonight and go out and find a guy. Don’t wait up for me.” Good idea, even if the chameleon had given it to her. She needed more than a quickie to keep her on her toes. All she needed was a some sweet loving to return to the top of her game.

“That’s not going to work any better than the other times you’ve tried it,” Larry said. “You need a mate.”

To read an X-rated excerpt, please visit

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Top Books of 2013 at Google

My Cabin Fever novella, Heat Rises, is a Top Book of 2013 at Google.

Snowbound in a cabin….a chance to live out all her fantasies

Laura Barber has dreamt of doing unspeakable things with Ethan Gould for years. Now, stuck in a mountain cabin, she just might get her shot. Ethan offers her the chance to live out each and every one of those desires. They may be rivals in the business world, but in the bedroom they’re a perfect match. Knowing they only have a few days, Laura shakes off all her inhibitions--every secret need, every lust-filled thought…it’s all fair game.

“Laura, move over.”

Asleep. Dreaming. Someone was telling her to move over. The salesman in her mind’s eye who was trying to sell her the huge purple SUV with the tiny tires. Why would he want her to move over?

“Come on, Laura. Please.”

She opened her eyes to a strange place with a low ceiling just visible above her. The loft. The cabin. A hand shook her arm.

“Ethan?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m freezing. Move over.”

She clutched the covers to her chest and turned. The floorboard lighting cast enough illumination to show to his face at the top of the ladder, less than a foot from hers. “What happened?”

“The fire went out.”

“You should have kept it going.”

“I was asleep, okay?” He climbed the last few rungs and lifted the covers so he could slide in beside her.

“What are you doing?”

“This is the only warm spot in the cabin.”

She retreated toward the back of the loft, but that didn’t take her very far away from him. “The wood stove.”

“It sends all the warmth up here,” he said. “Heat rises, remember?”

“But you can’t—” Before she could get another word out, he pressed his foot against her leg. Even through her pajamas, it felt like ice.

“Hey!” she cried.

“See what I mean?” he said. “Have pity. You don’t want me to freeze my butt off, do you?”

“Heaven forbid.” He had a glorious ass, just like every other part of him. Not that she’d ever stared at it or anything.

“Thanks.” He pulled the covers up under his chin and settled back. At least, they had two pillows so they wouldn’t have to share. But how was she supposed to sleep with him taking up all this room with his scent and his, well, maleness? Maybe a little small talk would make things less tense.

“That was a great dinner. You’re a good cook,” she said.

“Steak and salad’s easy.”

“But zabaglione? That takes some skill.”

He shrugged, his shoulder brushing hers. “Glad we found the marsala. Jeff keeps a stocked liquor cabinet.”

“I noticed.”

“Maybe I’ll make you a margarita while we’re here.”

So much for small talk. “Ethan, don’t.”

“Laura, I . . .” He rolled toward her and something very solid pressed against her hip. Hard, male, and very large. He flopped onto his back again, and they lay in silence for a while.

“I guess you must have felt—” he said.


“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It’s a natural male reaction,” she said. Natural and about as awkward as anything natural could be. “Men get, well, that way all the time, don’t they? At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

Oh God, here they went again. The two of them together were some kind catastrophe waiting to happen.

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “You think this is some kind of random, meaningless event?”

“I think I don’t want to have to talk about another elephant in six years.” She rolled over, pinning herself against the wall with her back to him. “Good night, Ethan.”

“Oh no you don’t.” He caught her shoulder and pulled her back against the mattress. “We’re going to take care of this right now.”

“For heaven’s sake, there’s nothing to take care of.”

“My anatomy disagrees.”

“I don’t know anything about anatomy. I was a business major.”

“Gee . . . hosophat.” He propped himself up on one elbow and waved his finger under her nose. For a moment, he looked ready to deliver a lecture, but then, his expression change, turning serious, and he stared at her mouth.

All the air whooshed out of the tiny space, and she parted her lips to try to breathe. As soon as she had, he moaned and closed the distance to place his lips over hers.

Thursday, December 19, 2013

Read an excerpt from Built for Lust

From Built for Lust by Alice Gaines

The sky was just beginning to lighten along the horizon as she let them out of the building and headed with Gray across the parking lot to the woods beyond. Beneath the trees, the night still reigned. In near total darkness, she kicked out of her shoes and undressed. Gray watched the entire time, his eyes pricks of light that seemed to shine from inside him. She hadn’t built anything within him that should do that, but eventually he’d become more than the sum of his parts. After he’d experienced the world, he’d become his own creature, only subservient to her. Maybe he’d started the process already.

He let out a little whine. Impatience? Disappointment at her human shape? Or maybe, excitement.

She shifted slowly so he could watch. Truth be told, she hadn’t spent much time in her wolven form lately, and the change took some thought. Her body became smaller but more powerful than her human shape. Immediately, her heightened hearing and scent told her what she needed to know about her surroundings. No other humans nearby and no other wolves. Only the sounds of birds stirring and the scent of her mate.

He walked toward her, his head held down. The posture might have been submission but more likely caution. He’d never seen one of his own kind before, and he must have detected her perfume the way she had his.

She held absolutely still, letting him come near. A low rumble from his chest warned that he knew he had the advantage of size and strength. What he didn’t know, though, was that she had more cunning. If she didn’t want him, he wouldn’t have her.

She’d built him for this, though, and if he did things the way she’d programmed, he’d have her before the sun came fully up.

Now near her, he sniffed along her flank, close to her sex. Her musk filled the air around her as the hunger built inside her. When he walked behind her, her legs trembled. For the first time in her life, she was only moments away from her body’s ultimate fulfillment, but if she’d made even one serious mistake in his programming, she’d still go uncompleted.

He pressed his snout in the space between her legs, his breath hot on the sensitive flesh. She jumped at the shock, and her voice came out as a yip of surprise, and her whole body quaked. Yes. Oh, yes!

He could continue now, but the full mating ritual demanded the chase. Now that he’d scented her, he’d follow -- at top speed until he dropped. He had her in his blood.

She bounded away from him. Not far, just enough to let him know he hadn’t won her yet. He stared back at her, silver fury in his eyes. When he stepped in her direction, she leapt again, now well out of his reach unless he agreed to come after her with everything he had. Staring back at him evenly, she waited for some sign that he’d made his decision. After a moment, he crouched. Only a creature perfectly attuned to him could have caught the change in his posture, he did it so subtly. She couldn’t miss the coiled strength, so before he could leap and take her where she stood, she raced off into the underbrush, dashing between ferns that came up to her haunches.

She’d run at full speed before, but never when the heat was fully on her. Her brain tuned out all but the most basic thoughts -- the driving rhythm of her footfalls as she extended her forelegs and then pulled at the ground beneath them, the power of her hind legs pushing her forward. The sound of her breathing and the pounding of her heart. Most of all the tension building in her womb with each jarring motion as her paws hit solid dirt.

Every inch of her sensed the male behind her. Now, he had to find his footing and chase the scent she’d left behind. Soon, he’d have his balance and would hit full speed. She’d need to make evasive movements to make him earn his reward.

Crashing from behind her told her he’d found his stride. When the sound of his breathing came through, too, she stopped abruptly, zigged, and dashed behind a tree. While she headed off in a new direction he came to a stop, hesitated, and then went after her. Those few seconds gave her another lead, and she used it to head down a ravine, skidding much of the way. At the bottom, she leapt from stone to stone across the stream, and went up the other bank.

Closer now, he splashed behind her and grunted as he closed the distance on the upward slope. He’d have her in a moment, and the glorious chase would end. She’d fought surrender all her life, but this time she’d lose. It was almost a shame that she could power down this beast she’d created, but she could bring him to life again whenever she wanted. She owned him, not the other way around.

Just when she couldn’t outrun him any longer, she found another escape. A downed tree, close enough to the ground that she could just fit beneath it, but he’d be too big to follow. She scrambled under it, the bark digging into her back. He’d just managed to nip at her heel, but she pulled her foot away, flattened herself against the ground and watched him.

Growling, he paced the ground in front of the log, while her heart hammered in her chest. His flanks heaved from exertion as he prowled, back and forth, back and forth. What a magnificent animal -- as much and more as her fantasies. Her womb clenched as she caught the scent of his desire. Both of them at fever pitch now, they only needed to conclude the final act of this mating.

She retreated on her belly, turned, and dashed out from under the other side of the tree. Without looking back, she headed at full speed ahead of her. Her perfect sense of him told her he’d bounded over the log in one motion and was bearing down on her. Fine. The time had come.

With her last burst of speed, she cleared some trees and sprinted into a clearing. A meadow of sorts, soft grass springing under her paws. She still ran with everything in her, but not to evade him any longer. With each stride, her excitement mounted. Just a little farther, a few more strides. Make him wild with need so he’d take her hard and fast. Now, now.

With a snarl, he launched himself on top of her, knocking the wind out of her. For a while, they rolled together, limbs tangled, teeth nipping. He ended up on top, nearly smothering her, as he bit down into the fur and flesh at the back of her neck. No more running. Now, he’d put all that ferocity into making her his.

Acknowledging her master, she pushed herself up to offer him her hindquarters.

Built for Lust is one of four stories in the collection released from Changeling Press today.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

New review for my short story, Sex After Death

Thank you, Long and Short Reviews

What surprised me the most about this tale was how often it made me laugh. The author introduces Katy to such unexpected situations that her reactions to them are as humorous as they are well-suited for the tone of this piece. Sometimes arousal and laughter go well together. This is one of them.

Sex After Death is one of the best short stories I’ve read in 2013. I can’t recommend it highly enough to anyone who loves quirky, funny erotica.