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Sunday, May 28, 2017

Happy Birthday to Patient Lee (No. It's not my birthday today.)

My friend, Ellie, wrote this story for me for my birthday in 2015. She took the Patient Lee Radio Challenge, and the song she got was "Trouble" by Iggy Azalea and Jennifer Hudson. She gave me her permission to share the story, but it is her property. Don't steal it. Enjoy.

Trouble by Ella Wilding (a.k.a. xelliebabex on Literotica.)
©Ella Wilding

“Don’t just stand there. Run!” Cheney yelled at the frozen woman. Then she kicked out at the nearest would-be mugger, who stepped back with his hands up before him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, lady! We were just trying to help her,” he said in a startled voice, furtively looking down at his companion who was moaning and holding his blood covered hands to his nose.

“Yeah help her with the weight of her purse no doubt,” she spat at the man. Grabbing the younger woman’s arm, she dragged her further up the street to the corner of the main road. “I told you to run, you deaf or something?” she asked impatiently.

“I… I just…” the woman stammered and gave up trying to talk as she stared at her saviour. Not the heroic muscled man she had been expecting but a gorgeous tall, athletic woman.

“Okay let’s start simple, I’m Cheney and you are?” she had lowered her voice and tried to keep a pleasant tone. This chick was obviously out of her territory here. Girls from around here didn’t have designer labels in the price range that this chick obviously did.

“Brielle, I’m Brielle,” she said, finally coming out of her stupor. “Thank you so much for helping me. Let me buy you a coffee or something to thank you properly.” She swivelled her head around looking for a café or a bar of some kind.

“Look I don’t know where you’re from but this isn’t exactly the café district,” Cheney laughed and shook her head. The girl was cute in a lost lamb sort of way, so she made a suggestion of her own. “I know a bar not far from here. You can buy me a drink instead.”

“That’s a good idea, I could use a drink,” Brielle said enthusiastically. “You’re my hero now,” she trilled happily and linked arms with the taller woman. “I could have been in trouble there if you hadn’t come along. I mean I knew this part of town had a bad reputation, but I just didn’t think anyone would try to mug me.”

“What are you doing in this part of town in the first place? You don’t exactly seem like you fit in around here,” Cheney asked. She had tuned out most of the incessant babble that came out of the girl’s mouth as the answer came in a torrent of inane reasons. One drink then she would send the spoilt brat on her way. She obviously had no idea how the working class lived and the more she talked, the more annoying she became.

“… Anyway, after that, I was delivering a package for a friend. It’s something special and had to be hand delivered. I guess I was lucky that I dropped it off before those men found me,” she stopped her rapid chatter to take a breath, realising her new friend was opening a door for her. “Oh sorry,” she giggled and went through the doorway into the dimly lit bar.

Standing next to the bar as Cheney took her seat, Brielle fumbled in her oversized tote bag for her wallet. Placing a hundred dollar note on the bar she said, “Order whatever you like. I’ll have whatever you’re having, but I need to go and find the bathroom first.” She pulled a face and hurried off toward the back where Cheney had helpfully pointed.

The bartender, a statuesque, muscled woman with long multi coloured hair named, Vix, made her way over after a few minutes. She jerked her head in the direction Brielle has gone. “Who’s your new friend?” she asked with the familiarity of an old friend.

“Lost lamb that wandered into the wrong part of town and found herself in trouble,” Cheney shrugged. “She owes me a drink for being a Good Samaritan, so I’ll have a Crown with a Corzo shooter. Wait. You better make that two and hope she’s not expecting a chardonnay to be waiting for her.”

Vix gave a derisive half laugh and grabbed the Crowns from the chiller. Opening the small bottles and placing a wedge of lime into the neck of each, she then set up the shooters. “She doesn’t look like any lost lamb I’ve ever seen. She looks like trouble to me.” Once again, she jerked her head in the direction of the bathrooms.

Cheney turned her head, and her breath caught as she saw what the bartender had meant. Brielle had removed her coat revealing a tight red leather dress that was so tight it may as well have been painted onto the lush figure it barely covered. The plunging neckline displayed at least a third of each well-rounded breast, and Cheney had to admit that she had been wrong when she had called her a lost lamb. This chick had been she-wolf in a lamb’s wool coat. Everything she knew about women who dressed like that sent alarm bells ringing through her mind. Still it had been some time since she had been on a wild ride, and a little trouble can make for a good time now and then. If this woman was even the slightest bit inclined, Cheney reckoned she might be worth the test drive.

Brielle took the barstool beside Cheney and downed the shooter in one noisy gulp. Grabbing the lime from the neck of the Crown beer, she bit into it, closing one eye as the bitter warming alcohol slid down her throat. “Tequila!” she said loudly in the rhythm of the song. “Nice! Set ‘em up again please,” she called to Vix and pushed the change from the hundred that had been left on the bar back towards her.

“Whatever you say, Trouble,” Vix gave a full, throaty laugh and reached for the bottle of Corzo.

“Delivering a package for your friend?” Cheney deflected Brielle’s attention away from Vix. She may as well check the story out while she was here. It seemed odd that the girl had been attacked right in front of the place she had been staking out.

“Oh, yeah, no big deal. I had already dropped it off before those guys grabbed me,” Brielle shrugged, seemly unconcerned. “I was lucky you happened to be there. It’s such a strange little laneway. Honestly, I was surprised anyone else was down there beside me.” She raised a questioning eyebrow at Cheney.

“Just a lucky coincidence I guess,” Cheney replied, revealing nothing about why she had been there. She’d been stalking that laneway for over six months trying to get something on Peter Hickman, a pawnbroker who was suspected of involvement in an organised crime syndicate. Up until this point, she had thought this woman was nothing more than a silly uptown girl in the wrong place at the wrong time, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“Well, here’s to lady luck,” Brielle giggled and downed the second shot with a large gulp.

They made small talk while sipping their beers. Cheney gave the cover story that she had spent the last six months setting up a dojo that specialised in self-defence for women. She offered a discounted rate for Brielle, who seemed to seriously consider the proposition. In her turn, Brielle confided that she was between jobs, but received a more than generous allowance from her trust fund set up by a grandfather who lived in Port Moresby and owned several mines and businesses there.

“That’s a dangerous part of the world,” Cheney said, surprise showing in her voice. She knew that some of the evidence trails they had been following had led them in that direction.

“Yeah, he’s what my mother liked to refer to as a hard man. I think it suits him up there, not so many laws and taxes to get in his way,” she giggled. “Every family has a black sheep and if he wasn’t stinkin’ rich we probably would’ve disowned him years ago.” Changing the subject, she looked around and said with a smirk, “This place is great, didn’t have you pegged as a lipstick bar kind of woman. My radar is usually pretty good for that kind of thing.” She reached out and placed a hand on Cheney’s leg. She seemed to purse her lips while licking her teeth making a small sucking noise that sounded oddly seductive.

“We don’t often see lipstick lesbians in here. People around here are a bit more real, not just satisfying a curiosity while waiting for Mr. Right to come along,” Cheney brushed Brielle’s hand from her leg. She tried to remain disinterested in anything further than the drink they had come here for, despite being on her second beer and third shot. In truth, the fact that the sexy goddess of a woman sitting beside her had offered more tempted her more than she wanted to admit. “I should probably be going, it’s one of my few nights off, so I have stuff to do,” she said, trying to take the sting out of her previous words. She needed to get out of this situation while she still had the willpower to say no to Brielle’s advances.

“Oh come on, have just one more drink with me. You’re my hero, and I just want to thank you properly,” Brielle put her hand over Cheney’s and stroked the skin lightly with her thumb. Cheney looked at her hand and then back at Brielle before letting her eyes travel down over the exposed cleavage. “Please, I will even come and then help you with the stuff you have to do if you like,” her voice was soft and almost wheedling.

Everything about this woman screamed trouble at her, yet it had been so long since she had indulged her needs because of her career. The last six months of living like a nun had made her unbelievably horny, and this chick was so very tempting. She heard the lyrics of a song that had been on the radio lately run through her head. “And baby trouble only makes for a good time, so all the red flags be a good sign.”

“Yeah, okay. One more and then I’ll have to go,” Cheney gave in half-heartedly. “You order, I’ll be back in a few.” She slid from the barstool and walked towards the bathroom shaking her head at how easy she was being. Still, as she looked back at Brielle she admitted, it could be a wild ride if she could just let herself go and enjoy the moment.

Cheney walked into a stall and pulled her phone out of her bra. “Won’t be there tonight, following a lead,” she typed and smiled. It was a stretch to imagine that this vapid young woman was a lead, but she had been outside the pawnbrokers when the muggers had attacked her. She admitted she was more than interested in getting to know her better and why she had been there in the first place. If she could have some fun along the way, all the better. It was a weak argument she was having with herself, but one she could live with she decided.

She waited for the reply as she sat in the cubicle. It was rare she had a night off that she didn’t check in with or meet one of the team she worked with for debriefing, but her excuse should hold them over until later tonight or the morning for that matter. The phone in her hand vibrated and she smiled as she read the response.


Brielle signalled Vix for more drinks and smiled to herself, she’d lucked out this time. She had been saved by a gorgeous woman who seemed more than interested in her. This day just couldn’t be any better. Who knew her plans would work out so well.

“Here you go Trouble,” Vix slid the beers across the bar to her and replaced the shot glasses with fresh ones.

“Trouble?” Brielle inquired, cocking her head.

“Lady, that dress screams trouble. Add to that the fact that my friend had to save you from being mugged earlier,” Vix shook her head. “I think I can tell when trouble walks into my bar and that you are probably more trouble than Cheney needs in her life,” Vix said with a tone that said she didn’t approve.

“Cheney looks like she can hold her own to me,” Brielle said as if insulted by the innuendo that she would cause trouble for Cheney.

“She can,” Vix agreed, “but why make life harder than it has to be.” She shrugged and went to serve another customer as Cheney came back from the bathroom.

Taking her seat, she picked up the shot and threw her head back, downing it quickly and chasing it with the crown. “What were we talking about?” Cheney asked.

“You were saying you don’t see too many girls like me who wear lipstick around this place,” Brielle said with a smirk. “Personally I like it that way. Natural beauty is very alluring,” her eyes raked over Cheney’s features. “I look like a troll without makeup. I just can’t pull off the natural look.”

“I find that very hard to believe, I am sure you wake up every morning looking exactly as you are now, not a hair out of place,” Cheney laughed.

“I wish, but if you’re interested in finding out, I don’t have plans tonight.” Once again, her hand strayed onto Cheney’s thigh, and her voice lowered to a sultry tone. “Maybe we could discuss it over dinner? We could go somewhere close by and get an intimate table for two perhaps?” She seemed to consider Cheney for a moment. “Or we could just go back to your place and fuck like bunnies,” she giggled as Cheney picked up her beer and chugged it, listening to the proposition.

“Okay,” she stated, abruptly putting her beer down heavily on the bar as if challenging Brielle to put up or shut up.

“A woman who knows what she wants. I like that,” Brielle moved closer until their faces were less than an inch apart. Placing her hand against her cheek and neck, she pulled Cheney closer still until their lips met. “Let’s go then,” she whispered and pressed her lips against the willing lips of the woman she planned to kiss all night or at least for the next few hours.

“I imagine you live close enough to walk?” she asked and took Cheney’s hand to lead her out of the bar. Smiling Cheney took the lead and headed down the street toward her small temporary apartment. She had walked less than half a block when Brielle grabbed her and pushed her into a small dark alcove between buildings. Pressing her body up against the other woman’s, she kissed her deeply. There was a heat and passion to it that Chaney hadn’t expected from the soft kiss in the bar. Her leg moved between Cheney’s thighs, and her hands worked their way down her back to her ass.

Her mind spun as Brielle’s insistent tongue wormed its way into her mouth and began a duel with her own. She wrapped her arms around the sexy woman pressed against her and let the feelings of lustful desire overcome her senses. Brielle broke the kiss and looked into Cheney’s eyes with a knowing smile and took her hand, once again pulling her from the alcove to continue the journey home.

They walked closely side by side to the apartment, their hands often straying to each other’s waists and asses as they bumped hips and separated again. The climb up two floors of stairs became excruciatingly long as they stopped after each of the four flights to kiss and rub up against each other with growing heat and anticipation.

As soon as Brielle entered the small apartment, she began taking off her clothes. Past the point of being shy with this woman, Cheney followed her lead and had barely taken her shirt off and unbuttoned her jeans when Brielle pushed her against the wall. Locked in a deep kiss, they pushed the jeans down her legs together. Brielle’s hands caressing the soft skin as Cheney's hands began their exploration of the naked woman holding her captive by their locked lips.

“I just knew you were the sensible underwear type,” Brielle murmured and brought her hand up to Cheney’s damp panties and rubbed at her soft lips through the cotton fabric. She probed deeper, pressing the cotton between the soft lips and smiled in satisfaction when she felt Cheney shudder against her as she found her already swelling clit. Removing her teasing fingers, she bit the soft lip of the mouth kissing her and began to push the panties down Cheney’s thighs.

Cheney shuddered again as Brielle thrust her tongue into her mouth as she simultaneously thrust two fingers into her pussy. She couldn’t believe how the sexy blonde stranger was making her feel. She had no inhibitions about the fact that Brielle’s hand was now covered with her juices, and she moaned into that deep kiss. The fingers kept working in and out of her as a thumb found her clit and began to rub at it with increasing pressure. She felt her knees buckle and her body quiver as she began to come from the sheer pleasure Brielle’s aggressive sexuality was giving her.

Brielle felt Cheney slump against her and withdrew her fingers, licking at them like the most delicious ice cream. She helped Cheney to the nearby couch and dispensed with her bra as she sat and lay back into the soft leather with a rosy afterglow colouring her face. Having enjoyed the taste from her fingers, Brielle began to kiss her way up Cheney’s legs to seek the source.

The tremors of her orgasm continued to run through her body as she watched the aggressive blonde running her hot tongue up her legs between soft, feather-like kisses. She was enjoying being passive for a change, and she felt her inner muscles contract in need as the feather light kisses and tongue touched the soft lips of her pussy. Brielle kept looking up at her through long mascara thick eyelashes with a smouldering glance that made her that much hotter.

Cheney relaxed back into the soft cushions of the couch and lifted her hands to her neglected breasts, letting her fingers trail lightly over the turgid pink buds that sat atop them like dainty berries. Her breath shortened once again as she felt the tongue and teeth of Brielle whip at her clit and fingers delved into her for a second time tonight. Her eyes widened as she felt more fingers trail down into the cleft of her ass cheeks and prod at the tiny puckering dark star there. “Oh god, she wouldn’t!” Cheney thought a second before she felt a small finger worm its way into her ass, giving her sensations she had never felt before. Working in tandem with the fingers already fucking her and the whipping of her clit, Cheney soon lost all focus.

It started from the core of her being and rushed out in a burst of tingling sensation and then crushed back into her again as if lightning jolted her. Her body was shuddering with spasm after spasm until her cries turned into hoarse whispers, and her breath became ragged and strained. When she finally opened her eyes again, she saw Brielle’s shiny face was resting on her thigh, breathing warm air over her sensitive clit with a sexy smile on her lips.

“Oh yeah, that was amazing,” Cheney said slowly with a satisfied purr to her voice. She pulled Brielle’s hand up to her face and breathed in her scent from the fingers, letting her tongue swipe at the long digits. Brielle followed her hand up and was rewarded with a strong embrace and Cheney taking her mouth in a long soft, passionate kiss.

They kissed for some time as Cheney regained all of her senses. She pressed her leg between the long, lithe legs of her lover who began to undulate, humping at her leg almost immediately. To her great pleasure, Cheney found the pussy humping her leg to be as wet as her own. She rolled Brielle over and began kissing her way down her body. She made a point to kiss and lick over her firm round breasts before gnawing softly at the nipples and sucking them deeply into the warm cavern of her mouth. She swapped between the two mounds of flesh, using her fingers to work on the other while she sucked at each swollen bud in turn.

Finally having her fill, she moved down, kissing over the flat stomach. She breathed in the scent of pussy mixed with the heady perfume of her body lotion, creating an intoxicating blend of sweetness. Brielle widened her thighs and bent her legs at the knees, making room for Cheney as she kissed down over her pubic bone to her inner thighs, teasing her all the more before getting to the final destination.

Cheney looked at Brielle’s pussy. It was beautiful, and she pushed on the thighs she had just been kissing, opening her pussy wider. The lips were perfectly shaped, and she watched avidly as Brielle’s pussy opened like a butterfly before her eyes. Soft wisps of blond hair made a perfect path to her clit. Her inner lips were very pink and the flesh seemed puffy with lust. She looked up to see that Brielle had her eyes closed and was breathing deeply. Cheney took a deep breath, enjoying the sight and smell before lowering her head to touch the sweetly swollen bud that was Brielle’s clit with her tongue. Brielle’s hips bucked as if begging for more, but Cheney held back slightly, enjoying the teasing that was turning her on as much as the woman she was about to make love to.

She ran her tongue slowly from clit to vagina, sliding it inside to savour the tantalising nectar there. Her fingers strummed over the clit until the soft whimpers became urgent cries to be fucked. “Please stick them in. I need to feel them in me!” she had panted again and again. Feeling Brielle arch up against her, Cheney lost all pretence of the tease and dove in using both her fingers and her mouth to bring the sexy blonde rapidly to boiling point. Her free hand strayed to the warm, soft flesh of her ass beneath the hot wet pussy she was plundering and, guided by what Brielle had done to her, she pushed her little finger into her tightest hole.

Brielle felt her body explode and grabbed Cheney’s head, mashing her pussy against it, riding her face into the blissful high she was experiencing. Her world became centred solely on the sensations that radiated from her pussy into her body as she arched and bucked wildly before throwing the other woman backwards when she could handle no more. She lay back breathing raggedly, barely aware of her surroundings as her whole body quivered and tingled in ecstasy.

Cheney slithered up Brielle’s body and rested her head on her breast, lapping at the nipple with her tongue as her lover recovered from an earth shattering orgasm. Content for the moment, she closed her eyes and let the effects of the alcohol and several orgasms lead her into a light doze as she snuggled close to Brielle.


Coming awake to the sound of her phone, Cheney rolled off the couch and crawled over to where her jeans lay crumpled against the wall. Her voice was thick with the residue of sleep as she answered. The voice on the other end was urgent. She became immediately awake and got up, walking into the bedroom where she wouldn’t be overheard.

“An explosion? Was he there?” she shook her head unbelievingly. “The one night I wasn’t watching. Oh God,” she groaned. “Yeah, I’m on my way, be there in ten.” It was a five-minute walk, but she had a naked girl in the next room to get rid of first.

She stepped into the bathroom and cleaned herself up quickly and put on new underwear. In the living room, she began putting on the clothes she had worn earlier. She picked up the red leather dress and tossed it to Brielle who had sat up and was watching her with a bemused expression.

“Who was that, the boyfriend?” she asked teasingly, “Will I have to climb out of the window now?”

“No, but you will have to go,” Cheney said with a laugh and indicated the dress that lay across her lap. She watched as Brielle wrapped that luscious body in red leather and briefly wished that she had the time to enjoy it again.

“It’s okay I have to get to the airport anyway. It’s a shame really; I could have kept you occupied all night rather than just a few hours. Still it was a far more enjoyable afternoon than I expected,” Brielle chattered as the preoccupied Cheney gathered her coat and led them from the apartment.

“I’d love to see you again if you’re in the neighbourhood,” Cheney said distractedly as she flagged down a passing taxi and bundled Brielle into it kissing her chastely. “I’ll call you,” she said almost automatically.

“Sure. Maybe you could save me again, or I could save you… again,” Brielle said with a wink, knowing that Cheney wasn’t listening to her because even as she spoke the tall brunette had turned and run towards the sirens she could hear close by.

Cheney slowed as she saw the blast area bathed in the flashing lights of police, fire and ambulance. She made her way through the debris towards the members of her team who had been working on the case. It was only as she got closer she saw the expressions on their faces. Relief that she was unharmed tinged with sadness she couldn’t place. She nodded at them and turned to the detective in charge, Hansen.

“I got here as soon as I could. Sorry, I wasn’t here to see what happened. Did Frankie see anything?” Cheney gushed her apologies.

“The dojo copped the force of the blast. Frankie’s been taken to the hospital for superficial cuts and bruises. She could possibly have a mild concussion. She was lucky she was in the back room at the time,” Hansen informed her abruptly. “Surveillance shows you assisted a woman in front of the store this afternoon,” he stated.

“Yeah she said she was dropping off a package before the two guys tried to mug her,” she said, alarm bells ringing in her head. “Fuck!” Cheney swore out loud as everything Brielle had said as they had left her apartment went back through her head, and she knew she was in trouble.

“You better get back to base and file a complete report, she could be anywhere by now,” Hansen gripped her shoulder, believing the horror on Cheney’s face was caused by the situation surrounding them. Her mind though was singing to her…

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Review: Wife Shared at the Lake by Matt Coolomon

This is hard-core "porn for blokes." I'm not a bloke, but holy hell was this hot. There's enough story to hold it together, but the "author's purpose" (which standardized tests love to question) is getting the reader off. Wife Shared at the Lake accomplishes this with a fury I didn't expect.

Don't buy this to read in the doctor's office waiting room or at the beach. Read it alone or to a partner and have a good time. Trust me.
 5 stars!

Review: The Lustrous Soul by Shaheen Darr

The Lustrous Soul: Simple Ways to Unleash the Happiness Within YouThe Lustrous Soul: Simple Ways to Unleash the Happiness Within You by Shaheen Darr
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A lovely collection of "aha" moments in the author's life. Well-written and thoughtful, the author describes times in her life when she learned lessons, sometime the hard way. Daily exercise, good nutrition, meditation, and more. This is a great source of inspiration for a journal or discussion with friends.

View all my reviews

Monday, May 8, 2017

It All Ends Here: Morium Book 3: Terminus by S.J. Hermann

On May 9, 2017, IT ALL ENDS HERE.

One final confrontation between friends. . . . One final outcome.

In the finale of the highly rated supernatural thriller series, The Morium Trilogy, Lexi must not only fight the evil that resides within her, but also struggle to keep her relationship with Kyle from falling apart. Unknown to Lexi, Nathan is planning to exterminate not only the remaining bullies, but the entire town as well.

In the end, what will Lexi and Nathan choose . . . FRIENDSHIP or REVENGE?

Can they fight their inner demons and preserve what matters most?

Special Pre-Release price of $0.99

Amazon Link:  ebook/dp/B06WRQHR3V

S.J. Hermann is a writer of paranormal, science fiction, horror, and romance novels. His books have moral basis hidden within them, and he brings some of his experiences into his characters. Hermann is an anti-bullying advocate and his struggles with self-harm can be read on his website.

Hermann currently resides in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago, Illinois, where after a break, he hopes to return to college to earn a certificate in graphic or web design.  When he is not thinking of stories to write, he is an award winning artist.

Hermann is an avid rollercoaster fan who has ridden over forty different coasters throughout his life. Though he is terrified of heights, there is not a ride he won’t conquer. If there is a hockey game on television, you can bet that he will be watching, especially his favorite team the Chicago Blackhawks.


Hermann is an avid Walking Dead fan and will read or watch anything about zombies. Max Brooks and Stephen King are his authors of choice. He is a strong supporter of indies.

Where to find SJ Online:


Social media:
a.    Twitter: @Writing_Novel
b.    Facebook:
c.    Instagram:
d.    Google Plus:
e.    Goodreads:

MORIUM (Book One of the Morium Trilogy): 



If you had the powers to avenge yourself... would you?
Bullied... Years of shame... Lexi and Nathan knew pain.

MORIUM is the story of Alexandria and Nathan... and Stacy. Three teenagers who were victims of bullying all through high school. They kept their torment a secret from their family and tried to cope in their own way. They only had each other. Their friendship saw them through the seemingly endless years of suffering.

But hope was in sight… they will be graduating soon. The vision of a new life away from the bullies and the constant humiliation, gave them something to look forward to. If only that day came sooner.

One night, Lexi and Nathan saw an object fall from the sky and went to investigate. As they touched the rock, a strange power entered their bodies. Suddenly, they're not helpless anymore. They can get revenge for all the suffering and pain they had to endure.

How will they use these powers?

MORIUM discusses the moral dilemma of doing what's right against getting revenge. When your dignity has been shattered and your life has been a living hell . . . what is RIGHT?

Amazon Link:

Currently has 67 reviews on USA Amazon with an average of 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Click here for Patient Lee's review of Morium!



Morium: Dark Horizons (Book Two of the Morium Trilogy)

When the Light of Hope fades….

All that’s left are Dark Horizons…


In Book 2 of the MORIUM Trilogy, Alexandria and Nathan’s struggle with their supernatural powers continue.

When a new person enters her life, Alexandria or Lexi discovers that she doesn’t need supernatural powers to have a brighter future. She can leave her bullied past behind and rebuild her life. Meanwhile, “The Gift” takes deeper hold of Nathan and his hunger for revenge grows. But he fights his need to absorb souls to regain Lexi’s trust and save their friendship.

Stacy finds herself caught in the conflict between her closest friends, even as she battles her own demons. Whose side should she take? Will she choose love over friendship… or will she fail them both?

An opportunity to get back at Lexi’s assaulter pushes Nathan back into the path of darkness. One final act of bullying sets him over the edge, and he decides to put an end to the never ending pain and humiliation he and his friends suffered over the years.

Can Lexi save Nathan from completely giving in to the dark influence of The Gift?
Will their friendship survive?

DARK HORIZONS will immerse the reader into the intricate psyches of the bullied characters we rooted for in MORIUM. Morals aside, can we really blame Nathan for his anger and his need for revenge? Through indifference, did we not have a hand in creating the monster he has become?

Currently has 23 reviews on US Amazon with an average rating of 4.8 out of 5.0 stars.

Amazon link:


Monday, April 24, 2017

Review: Sexpossessed by Ian Saul Whitcomb

SexpossessedSexpossessed by Ian Saul Whitcomb
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

What an interesting, fun, sexy book! I had no idea what to expect, but this kind of tale wasn't even on my radar. I was hooked right from the first scene, but at the same time, paranormal stories aren't usually my thing. The characters are wonderful- likeable, complex- a delight to get to know. The plot was unpredictable. From start to finish, I had no idea where it was going or how it would end. Even when they began their journey through the afterlife, I was surprised at every turn.

I'm not usually a fan of the "epic journey," but this one was different. Instead of a battle at each turn, there was fabulously kinky, creative sex.

Such an excellent book. I will be reading more from this author. You should, too. #recommendedbypl

View all my reviews

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Almost in the Earth Day

Celebrate Earth Day with a sweet and sexy romance! 

I wrote this story for the 2014 Literotica Earth Day Contest, but this version is new and improved. When I wrote the original story, I shied away from too much romance, preferring to concentrate on the first-time sex with a summer fling. I love these characters, though, and when I thought about making some revisions, I realized that I wanted them to be together and happy.

Even if you read the original version, I believe you'll enjoy this Earth Day tale. For more info, visit my website

 Now for something completely different.


Note from PL:

On Earth Day, 1999, two days after the Columbine Massacre, an angry student threatened to kill me. He was angry, and he had a plan. Because he talked about his plan with other students, he removed from school and sent to juvenile detention for three months. I still associate Earth Day with this incident.

Last month, one of my students stole my iPad in retaliation for working with his mother to keep him from failing his freshman year. He wasn't pleased with the agreement, and thought he'd get back at me by stealing from me. Fortunately, we caught him, and I got my iPad back. He got suspended for three days. 

Seems unbalanced, doesn't it?

I have invested hours of my time and energy trying to help this student in the last two school years. After confronting him, my comment to a coworker was that I felt like I had been stabbed in the back with an iPad. It was disheartening, but I felt better after I wrote the story.

Just about every, single day at school, I have a moment in which I wonder if my day is about to stop being so typical. 

This is a work of fiction. I have no experience with any of the events in this story.

 Almost in the Earth Day

I step out of my front door, coffee in hand, laptop case over one shoulder, purse over the other, and realize that the sun is actually up over the trees this morning. Last week I could just see the pink glow that comes right before the big ball of fire pops over the horizon.

What a difference a week makes.

As I get into my Prius, I spill coffee on my denim skirt. The color is dark enough so that most people won't know, but I'm still pissed. I turn on the heater in the car. There is a little morning chill in the air, but I crank it full blast because that's how I dry my hair in the morning. I turn up my hard rock station and sing before I even start to drive.

I pull out of my driveway and hope that the bus hasn't gotten to my street yet. I've been stuck behind the slow, stinky behemoth twice already this week.

Shit. There it is. Why do I always leave so damn late?

I arrive in the parking lot, and I curse out the Escalade parked next to me. As always, its tires are over the line of my space, and I'll have to squeeze out of my car to avoid hitting the Lexus on the other side.

I trot through the parking lot, tripping over my Birkenstock clogs on the curb. My boss is standing outside, greeting students and faculty, and reminding parents for the hundredth time that student drop-off is in the back of the building. He laughs at my stumble before tapping his watch and giving me a stern look.

"If you didn't wear those hippie shoes, you might be on time for work, Mrs. Davenport."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

I greet the secretary and sign in. I don't have time to stop at my mailbox, but I vow to check it later. I stop twice to chat with colleagues, but not for long. We're all busy; we all have things to do before the bell rings.

A student stops me in the hallway to ask about a make-up test. I tear a piece off the grocery list in my purse and write her a pass for third period. I remind her that she was supposed to make it up two weeks ago, so she must remember today.

I pass a student that has been in my class for three years. "Nice shirt," I say. It's a Metallica shirt.

"Thanks, Miss Davenport. You have awesome taste in music," he replies.

"I know," I call back to him over my shoulder.

BANG! I jump, not knowing what it is. I look over my shoulder, but I try not to let on that I think something is amiss.

I hear a loud girl's voice telling her boyfriend he's an asshole for dropping a stack of books and scaring the crap out of her.

When I finally reach my classroom, I can't find my keys. There are students lined up at the door, whining about how heavy their books are. I try to hurry. My stuff is getting heavy too.

Aha! I clipped them to my belt loop already.

I put my things in my classroom, pick up my lukewarm coffee, and go stand by my classroom door in the hallway. Usually the teachers across the hall and I chat while we wait for the bell to ring, but Mrs. Costa is absent today. Mrs. Peterson is later than I am this morning, and she's flying in at the last minute. It's casual Friday, and I see that she has taken it to the extreme. Yoga pants. Interesting choice. I'm sure she thinks the same about my Birkenstocks.

I smile and greet my students as they enter the room. Some return my greeting; some merely grumble. It's early. I understand.

The late-bell rings, and I start my get-to-class routine. I make arm gestures like a flight attendant, and rhyme like Dr. Seuss. It doesn't get them to class any faster, but the dickhead who teaches in the classroom next door is a real asshole about it. I've seen him stand with a clipboard, filling out disciplinaries as the kids race down the hallway after the bell rings. I know. Rules are rules, but I pick my battles.

This morning is completely typical. The only deviation from the script has been Mrs. Costa's absence. As I'm about to shut the door, I see Aaron Jackson heading toward my room. He's been absent, but I'm surprised to see him so early in the morning. He doesn't usually get to school until second or third period. He's not a fan of getting up in the morning. Or of school. Or of life in general.

I smile and ask Aaron if he's stopping by to get last night's homework. He looks me in the eye and doesn't speak.

And my day suddenly stops being so typical.

For a moment I feel like I'm giving birth. Like my uterus is being torn in half. But I already had my babies.

Then I see the pain.

It's silver, like stainless steel. It surrounds me, muffling the sounds of teenagers laughing and sneezing and talking and phones buzzing on the desks. A minute ago some girls were jousting verbally, each trying to establish that her seasonal allergies were, by far, the worst. Now I hear the wah-wah-wah of their whining from ten miles away.

The world is melting in silver. I taste it, like I used to taste the metal bar on the baby carriage when my mother would take me for a walk around the block. It quenched my thirst, that cold, silver bar.

I remember ice skating on the puddle in front of our house. It was so cold that year, just like now as I sit on a frozen puddle. The silver glint of my double-runner skates is oozing through my body. I shiver. Why am I sitting on a skating rink in the road?

I look around and see my fourth grade teacher, holding her silver pointer, tapping it on the board as we recite multiplication facts. I'm terrified because I don't know the sevens, and she's about to call on me with that pointer the kind that looks like a pen but telescopes out to be a big long silver stick and it's pointing at me and my bladder lets go and now the frozen puddle is warm.

I hear a scream and another and another and I don't know where I am or why I taste the stainless steel of the metal bar of the baby carriage or why I see silver sequins blowing past me, like icy metallic sleet falling on me stinging my tin foil skin.

My sister is calling me but she died and she's buried and gone and buried in the stainless steel casket so small and sad. Everyone says it's a pity because she was just a baby.

Why am I wrapped in tin foil like leftovers from Easter dinner why so I won't fall apart because I'm melting and my silver insides are leaking to my outsides and the puddle gets colder and deeper and I'm skating with Todd on a pond this time and I love him and he lays me down on a blanket in the snow and takes off my tin foil wrap and slides his smooth silver shaft inside my body and I love him even though I am cold.

And my babies my grls aren't bbies anymore I see slvr rattles and cups and baby earrngs where are their braces why are their brcs mltng dwn thr chns and a silver iPad for each of them on Chrstms mrnng.

Tdd puts that slvr ring n my fngr and tlls me we wll b tgthr forvr but dont thnk he can com wth evn thgh I hve th shny rng n m fngr tht says frvr.













"Her eyes are open!"

"Where?" I barely manage to whisper.

"You're in the hospital, Mrs. Davenport. You were attacked by a student at school this morning."

"Dead?" I try to say.

"No. We thought we were losing you at first, but you're going to make it, honey."

"Todd?" I rasp.

"He's right outside. I'll have him hold your wedding ring, OK?"


"Yes, but I'm pretty sure it's platinum."


"No, no. You'll be back in front of your classroom before you know it."

"Tell them..."

"Shh, honey. Don't try to talk."

And someone bursts into the room, saying, "Sorry I'm late. I had an Earth Day clean-up at my kids' school."

Earth Day. April twenty-second. And I almost died.

Almost in the Earth Day.

"Tell them...I FUCKING QUIT."

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Blog Tour: A. M. Manay's She Marches Through Fire

It's finally here: the final book in A.M. Manay's November Snow series!

There aren't many things that cause me to go all fangirl, but this series is one of them! I am pleased to welcome A.M. Manay, one of my favorite authors of all time to my blog today.

Psychic vampire November Snow must battle grief, injury, and her own family as she fights evil on all sides. She seeks a cure for the poison sapping her strength and a fairy weapon as powerful as it is dangerous to wield. When it is time to save the innocent and gain justice for her maker, will she find the strength to march through the fire?

Title: She Marches Through Fire (November Snow Book 3)
Series: November Snow
Author: A.M. Manay
Cover design: A.M. Manay
Release Date: March 28, 2017
Genre: Supernatural fantasy
AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER at most booksellers:

 Once again, I had the privilege of beta-reading this one, so I got my November Snow fix early. Manay delivered once again in this book. When I beta read, I highlight passages on my Kindle with tiny comments like, "love" or "dropped kindle." This book was filled with these comments. Moments took me by surprise time and time again, and I had no idea what was going to happen in advance. 

What I love the most about these books is the incredibly deep characters Manay creates. Luka Lazzari affected me in the first book, and his hold on me (and November) only grows through the rest of the series. 

Here is my official review (and scroll to the end of the post for links to my reviews of the other books in the series):

A.M. Manay has written the November Snow characters into my soul. November embodies goodness, a tall order for a vampire, but Manay’s true skill shines through Luka Lazzari, one of the most complex characters I have had the pleasure to read. Love him, hate him, love him again—Manay’s portrayal of Luka’s centuries-long journey blossoms in the final chapter of November Snow’s story.

I have read She Dies at the End, She Lights up the Dark, and She Sees in Her Sleep twice each. I’m looking forward to reading She Marches Through Fire for a second time on March 28 because I want to spend time with November, Luka, Nigel, Zinnea, and the others. I miss them! (And by the way, I don’t usually read vampire/paranormal/supernatural books!)

  And now for the good stuff!



Dirty Excerpt

From A.M. Manay:

Since my host today tends toward the steamy side of life, I thought I’d give you an excerpt of one of the naughtier sections of my forthcoming novel, She Marches Through Fire.  If you’d like to find out just how things work out for my heroine and her “frenemy,” as well as just how they came to this pretty pass, don’t forget to pre-order your copy before March 28th.

Luka and November landed hard on their behinds in a pitch dark room.  Luka tried to stand up and promptly bonked his head on the low ceiling.
He swore and whispered, "Where the hell are we?"
"Under the church," November replied.  "The one where I was hiding when Nigel found me."
"They're probably watching it," Luka scolded.
"Yeah.  Good thing we didn't use the door, then, huh?" she retorted, then stuck out her tongue.
"Fair point," Luka allowed.  "If we keep quiet and leave the same way we came in, I suppose we'll be alright."
"That was the idea."
November stretched out on the floor.  Luka joined her, still rubbing the back of his head.
"Do you think the humans will know we're here?  I mean, that we're here in the Bay Area, not right here, specifically," she clarified.  November sounded fretful and a bit shaken, now that the immediate crisis had passed.
"Maybe not.  I checked before we left the library.  William's folk had disabled all the exterior cameras before they struck.  Same at the hotel.  Raina swept up the evidence left behind: weapons and phones.  A couple of wallets.  We turned them off and chucked them in your bag to go through later.  We might have missed one, but hopefully Birch grabbed it before any humans could.  The car wreck might be an issue, if it was caught on camera.  And they'll wonder why no one was in the wreckage.  But since all the vehicles were stolen, the drivers fleeing the scene is not too hard to explain away.  It comes down to whether we have any luck, really."
"Great," November replied bleakly.  "Surely, I'll have some of that one day."
"Are you alright?" Luka asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine.  I routinely execute family members who are beating other family members to death, after I kill a couple of strangers in a parking lot.  Totally normal Tuesday for me."
"You don't have to be all sarcastic about it," Luka scolded. 
He turned on his side to face her, propping his head up on an elbow.  She stared stubbornly at the ceiling, her hands tensely entwined in the edges of her jacket, her breath shallow.
"You defended yourself and your allies.  You did nothing wrong.  You were magnificent," he said.  He reached over and stroked the side of her face.  His fingers snuck down her neck.  He expected her to bat his hand away, but she did not.
"Maybe I don't want to be magnificent at killing people," she countered.
"It beats the alternative," he replied, studying her closely.  "Besides, we are predators.  A thin veneer of civilization covers a violent nature.  Same goes for the humans, the fairies, and the werewolves.  We kill.  We feed.  We fuck.  We love.  We hate.  Pretty much anything we do is motivated by the hunger for one or more of those things." 
 "What a heartwarming life philosophy."
"I try," he replied, bemused.  "Your fangs are still showing, by the way.  It's been an hour or more since you killed Emil.  Your body agrees with me that you're a predator, even if you don't want to accept it."
"Well, so are yours," she retorted weakly. Her hand flew to cover her mouth.
"Too bad Nigel isn't here.  He seemed to cheer you right up after you killed Fernando," Luka teased, grinning widely.  "Battle is quite the aphrodisiac.  It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Oh, shut up," November snapped.
"Of course, it isn't really Nigel you want right now.  You don't want sweet Nigel trying so earnestly to please you.  Not today.  Today, kitten, you want it to hurt.  Today, you want to punish yourself.  For killing Emil, sure.  But mostly for surviving when Ilyn died."  Luka's voice was serious now, the playfulness having disappeared entirely.
"You're out of your mind," November protested weakly.
"Am I?  I saw you let that arrow hit you, in the parking lot.  You saw it coming.  You inched over just enough so it wouldn't kill you.  You let another one of the bastards cut you twice before you took her head off. 
"It's been so difficult, I'm sure, now that your leg doesn't hurt like hell.  Nothing to distract you from the stabbing emptiness and the constant struggle to act like you're just fine: brave November, savior of the world.  I don't know if the others can see it, but I can.  My poor kitten.  Let me help you.  I'll give you a little respite.  Ease your sorrow, for a little while.  Let me be your self-destructive impulse.  Just for now."
November closed her eyes, that tiny movement acknowledging the truth of what he was saying, even as she refused to reply.  Luka's lips twitched.  He waited: silent, patient, utterly still.  He knew he had her.
"Bite me," she finally whispered.  "Hurt me."
Not wanting to give her a chance to change her mind, Luka didn't hesitate.  He was on top of her before the words finished passing her lips.  She arched beneath him as his fangs tore into her shoulder, right next to the spot the arrow had pierced a few hours earlier.  Vampire venom soon flooded her eyes with temporary bliss.
November wriggled out of her jacket and flipped Luka over, pinning him to the floor as she pulled her blood-stained gray T-shirt over her head, revealing a hot pink bra beneath.  "If you ever lord this over me, if you tell the others . . . so help me, I will rip your face clean off."
"I wouldn't dream of it, kitten.  A gentleman never tells," Luka replied, eyes bright with amusement.  Catching sight of her glare, he added, "You have my word.  I've never lied to you, kitten."
"Good," she replied.  "Now take off some clothes and pull my hair or something before I come to my senses." 
In the blink of an eye, she was once more on her back.  "Happy to oblige," Luka whispered.

Links for more:


Pre-Order She Marches Through Fire:


Let me leave you with a comment I made in my review of Book 2: She Lights up the Dark: Manay is the real deal, and she'll be a household name before long.