SORI Snippets. Enjoy!

Greetings, One and All.

This week took me by storm and allowed me not the necessary time to elaborate on my soon to be released, “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity”. Therefore, today I have decided to share mini-excerpts with you in the hopes that it might entice your imagination and prompt you to possibly pick up a copy of “S.O.R.I” which is due for release tomorrow, July 7th, 2017.



Winter Sensations …

Spring Overtures …

Summer Ruminations …

Fall Inhibitions …

The Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity is four seasons of discovery, lust, love and eroticism. A compilation of short stories that are sure to make you swoon in delight. Through a collection of erotic shorts drenched in whimsical prose, Adonis Mann takes us on a trip through a thrilling and provocative year. Stimulating the reader with stories like “Tyronian Rapture”, “Prismatic Slumber” and “Metamorphoses”, Mr. Mann brings sensual delight to every season. A jewel of an anthology for the LGBTQIA community, Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity is a must read for the lover of Erotica. Covering winter, spring, summer and fall, with one story for every month, Adonis gives you the gift of powerful diction and titillating tales. Come, sink in to SORI.




Excerpt: Wanton Wonderland

The air was cold and damp. The snow seemed to flow from right to left, instead of from top to bottom. The breeze made it so. Tiny, a not so tiny man slowly but surely made his way to the rented log cabin, he’d leased for the weekend for he and his lady love. A curvy girl, by the name of Raquel. This weekend Tiny and Raquel had ventured to try something new. Something they’d never tried before.


Excerpt: Prismatic Slumber

I dream in color. Like a vivid, luminescent prism, everything comes to thriving life, and then there he is with me.

Sleigh bells dangling from the edge of the bed jingle whenever I slide deep inside of his scrumptious cleft.

Silver tinsel, tangled around our feet.

How did it get there? When did we play with it? It doesn’t matter.

Only partially covered by a Santa Claus fleece blanket, our skin touches underneath—intense heat emanating from it. In the background Bobby Helms “Jingle Bell Rock” plays, only loud enough to drown our elate moaning.

Excerpt: Jet Tresses and Snow

Long, black hair that grazed my face as he swayed atop me. It smelled of shampoo and sweat—a sweet combination. His arms wrapped tightly around me, and all I could hear was his breath, my moans and his sighs as he pulsed inside me.

Unable to contain myself, I grabbed a fist full of his hair, tugging it ever so softly—just enough to make him groan in delight. Pulling his head back, my lips and tongue devoured the curvature of his neck, inhaling his scent.




Excerpt: Shy Torrents

Supple, soft skin glided under my fingers. Speckled with downy like hairs which electrified whenever my hand’s heat swept over them. My body heat was a magnet. A magnet which had the power to beckon wantonness and yearning. Shy shivered, unable to contain the reaction. I smirked.

Shy lay there, belly down, arms tucked under his chin and completely undressed. I thought of how much I wanted to take my finger, which traced his form, and insert it directly to his tight opening. I yielded the desire because my biggest wish was to savor this moment. This moment right here.

Excerpt: Metamorphosis

I am a butterfly.

The beauty of life is found in the mundane matters of evolution. Therefore, I am a butterfly.

When I was an egg, the shell kept me from breaking free. It prohibited me from being whom I was meant to be. Yet, there was a miraculous event occurring; I was developing. Readying for the inevitable exodus which was about to transpire.

I suppose the world was not ready for me then. Perhaps, preparing for the spectacular event which was about to unfold.

Excerpt: … and she: The Short Story of Constance McBride

He shared me, my Ronin. Yes, he did. That much is true. Withal, I minded not. I’d learned to appreciate the wonders of two men and I. It was a pleasantry that not all knew of.

Many speculate on my consent of being divvied between two.

So, I ask that you allow me a moment to share my story—my truth.

I am Constance McBride.

I was brought up with hard-handed structure and unwavering beliefs. My father, a Baptist Preacher. My mother, the epitome of a Preacher’s Wife—contrite, obedient and supportive.

I never fit in. I never could.




Excerpt: Timeless Daze; Reimagined

Footprints on golden sand lined the expanse, perfectly positioned, making a lovely pattern down the shore—some being washed away by the waves. The tawny hue of the sun bounced off the waterfront creating currents of various yellow pigments, drenching the entire domain in the same colorant.

It was a sight to behold. A beautiful, wonderful vision. And with all of its wonderment, the one thing that held my attention the most, was the individual making the impressions. His tall, strong fame, blotted out the brilliance of the seascape wherever he stood and created a silhouette of gray.

Excerpt: Mystical Nights

A gust of wind caused the white, sheer curtain on the only window in my room to dance. The light from the new moon permeated the room causing blue-gray rays to cross its expanse. Yet, there she was. A phantom. A phantasm of desire and wantonness. Real and surreal. A combination, though inexplicable, also intoxicating. The way she swayed her hips. The way she used her hands to lift the thick tresses of her hair just enough to allow her figure to come into focus. Black against pale gray. The rhythm of her movement seemed natural yet mystical. A temptress, a jezebel.

Excerpt: Tyronian Rapture

I was captured by my dear Regina’s beauty. Her full lips longed to be licked, while I imagined that her smooth skin and voluptuous curves yearned to be caressed.

From a distance, I basked in her allurement, secretly—watching as she picked the wild flowers from the field in order to prepare a centerpiece for our dinner table for tea. If I could walk through the window ajar as a phantom, then as a phantom I would delight in her existence.

The impasse, my predilection. The penchant to fancy the reprobate. And, whilst my heart and mind remained enthralled by my point of desire, my body lay captive inside of this wretched place.



Excerpt: Her Seductions

Silence is suffocating. Dense, even. Yet, it is in the silence of the night when my true love comes to me. She whispers in my ear that she loves me, running fingers through my long blonde locks. The effect is a rush which causes my hairs to stand on end and my femininity to pulse with desire.

The arid autumn air squeezes through a tiny sliver in the window ajar. The small attic apartment window, scarcely patulous, does little to cool the ardent vapors of our combines bodies. Nor does it quell our thirst for one another.

Heat rises; silence falls.

Excerpt: He & She

Her reflection was a stranger, always had been. Looking at her mirror image, Yehanna considered that she’d been born with the wrong face. Perhaps the Fates had misrepresented what she was really supposed to look like—gotten it wrong somehow. She was a foreigner to herself, usurped the body of another, or at least that’s what Yehanna told herself on a daily basis.

Grazing her finger across one check in the dimly lit bathroom of a tattered old apartment, which was falling apart at the seams, Yehanna moved her face from left to right, then back again.

Excerpt: Reckless Abandon

Convinced that life had to be grander at some scale, I threw carefulness to the waste side and opted to live life as I would have it, and not as others would impose. What good were people’s opinions anyway? Look where they’d gotten me. Having recently lost my job to a series of unfortunate events, I knew that it was now or never to take the proverbial bull by the horns and do with my life as I wanted. With reckless abandon, I would enthrall my every emotion and thought, not to be withheld by naysayers.

That was it. My mind was made up. Now, if I only knew how to accomplish said feat.

There you have it, my esteemed followers.

To obtain your copy of “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” visit:

Thank you again for visiting. And, once more, I am highly grateful for your unending support.

May blessings rain upon you all.


What’s Happening in my Upcoming Anthology

Greetings everyone,


Yesterday, I had a lovely conversation with my All Authors Publishing House Mentor, Queen of Spades. She’s a wonderful, wonderful mentor, and continually has great advice.

Upon speaking to her, she suggested that I start sharing a bit about my upcoming, solo work, anthology.

I know that I’ve talked at length about several of my works, but the one thing that I never really speak on is “The Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity“, an anthology that is expected to be released the end of this year, and is written solely by your truly.

I’m sure you’re wondering, why such a title? Well, it is because it’s the best title that would fit this work. My short stories have a certain rhyme, rhythm and flow. They are much like music, they sync into one another creating a ravishing erotic effect, leaving behind an intense feeling of wantonness. While they are mostly catered to the LGBTQIA community, they can also easily be enjoyed by the straight community.

The way “The Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” will be set up a bit differently than most anthologies available on the market today.

This book will be meant to last the reader all year long, should he/she so desire. It will also have the benefit of readers being able to go back to it time and time again.

I will be incorporating 12 stories; 3 for each season of the year. This will give the reader the benefit of enjoying the book a great many ways:

  • By reading it all at once; devouring the intensity in one sitting.
  • Perhaps, reading one story a month, so as to make it last all year.
  • Reading the stories during the seasons with which they correspond.
  • Nostalgically reading a story catered to one season, while being in another.

Or a great many other ways—whatever toots the reader’s horn, if you will.

Here are some of the titles that will be found in “The Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity“.

Winter: Prismatic Slumber

Spring: Metamorphosis

Summer: Tyronian Rapture

Fall: Her Seductions


Well, now that you have an idea of what “The Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” is about, be on the look out for more information on the collection, and of course, the pending Winter Release.

Until next time my wonderful followers.


Writing More

Greetings wonderful people.

blowing kissesPS:
I look nothing like that when I’m blowing kisses—I’m a bit more like a fumbling oaf—but the image was irresistible. * giggling *


Now on to the topic of today’s blog post. 😀

I was asked by a very dear friend of mine the other day, and I quote, “Donny, how do you feel now that you are writing longer stories?” This question led me to write this blog post.


The question left me pondering, “Am I indeed writing longer stories?” I find that the answer to this question is twofold. In part, I am. In part, I am not.

You see, I consider myself a sort of short story connoisseur. By no means a master or king as said trade, but certainly a specialist. You see, every writer has his/her preference. Many refer to it as “their thing”. Short stories—particularly, LBGT Erotic short stories—are mine. I do also babble in other contemporary fiction genres, as I did for my recent contribution to “Concordant Vibrancy 2: Vitality” which will be hitting book shelves January of next year. As well as my Contemporary Fiction Romance contribution to “Crackles of the Heart: Divergent Ink Book One” this past summer. However, I irreversibly return to what I know and love, LGBT Erotic.

Now …

In recent weeks I’ve been doing quite a bit of writing. Granted, some stories have been longer than others. So, I suppose, that this is the part of the answer which is a yes.

For example:


With the anthology that I am a part of in conjunction with author and wonderful friend, Synful Desire, called “Simmer: Smoothe & Sweet“, (being released December of this year) I wrote a whopping 6,167 words. This is far above my typical 1,000 – 1,500 word pieces.

And for my upcoming anthology, named after my slogan, “Syncopation Of Ravishing Intensity“, I wrote a longer piece, which is as yet unnamed, that is about 3,000 words in length. Again, an enormous feat for a person that typically writes stories half that size, sometime even smaller.

In this regard, I am indeed writing longer stories, albeit still short in comparison to most writers. Principally, those whom dedicate themselves to novel writing.


However, the part of the answer that is no, relates more so to another reason.

While my stories have not been much longer, in essence, than what I’d originally been writing, my writing has been more frequent.

That is to say, I’ve been writing more in general.

I’ve had an innumerable amount of stories floating around in my head. All short thus far, but there nonetheless. Each one yearning to be told, therefore, I am breathing life into them. 🙂


Truth be told, I am highly excited about what the future holds with/for my writing venture. I believe that this was what I was meant to do all along, and it is an indubitably wondrous feeling to achieve your lifelong dream.

I, thank you, dear fan/reader/follower. Your insurmountable support has been invaluable, and I look forward to sharing my art with you.

Lots of love to you all.


Thinking About Short Stories


What is the most beautiful thing in life?

The ability to have freedom of thought.

One’s mind is the most treasured element in the universe. Why? Because it creates ideas, implements those ideas, and then if need be, alters them in order to provide a more elaborate idea or a more fundamental truth.

What was born from the gift of the human psyche? Everything that we know and love today. It was our ever expanding minds that gave us a more profound understanding of the universe. It was our ability to analyze and learn which provided the pathway to whatever truths we know today.

Had it not been for our ability to think, discover, understand and process information we would not have half as much knowledge as we do in this day and time.

When you add to this mathematical equation the gift of free will, we find an innumerable amount of conjunctures and hypotheses undiscovered, merely waiting to be ascertained.

I love the human mind. It fascinated me. I find that personal perception is a galaxy of possibilities all sitting tightly inside of the cerebral cortex. Alive and tangible, if not to others, at the very least to that person.

brainYou’re probably wondering what any of this has to do with the title of this blog post.

Well, in all actuality, everything.

I have had the immense blessing of learning quite a few things on my venture in this industry.

I’ve learned that not everything is as it seems. That one truth has laid the foundation to a vast amount of different suppositions which have altered my viewpoints in a great many ways.

Please grant me the benefit of your time and I will enlighten you with the understanding that I have obtained.


The Mind is an Ever Expanding Labyrinth

When I first started my walk in the Literary Industry, I had a set concept of what things should be and why they should be that way.

Perhaps, to a certain extent, I was putting myself in a box. Although, I hate to think of it that way. Mostly, because I am the first person to testify that I am an open minded individual. In having implemented a previously decided group of speculations to my frame of thought, I was admittedly limiting my own understanding.

That being said, I am grateful that I opened my eyes and was able to see things in a different light.

different light

Among those things was the opinion of Short Stories.

I like to think of short stories as “my thing“, if you will. By “my thing” I mean to say, my forte and/or my strong point.

Truthfully, I love the art of storytelling. I feel that it’s such an enormous part of me. A part that goes far beyond a mere hobby or simple practice for entertainment.

If I wanted to be entertained, I’d turn on the television.


Yet, for me, storytelling is an extension of who I am. It is, in every meaning of the term, a little piece of my soul. Therefore, I take great pride in the material I deliver. I want my readers to see my aptitude therein in the best light possible.

I found that in short story writing I was able to deliver the greatest kick with the least fuss. With short stories, I felt that I could easily tell an entire tale in just a few well placed and well selected words.

I do, methinks.


I had the common misconception that all short stories should be constructed just as any full length novel. That is to say, with a “beginning, middle and end”. Now, by “end”, I meant that the tale should not leave room for question and that all threads must be tied by the last page.

Perhaps, I was tainted by the running trend of readers and writers misconstruing short stories with full length stories.

What do I mean by this?

Well, I’ve come to see that many a time readers and writers expect the short story to read just like a full length story. Moreover, they are absolutely fine when a full length story is incomplete.

The latter boggles me, to be sure. I can openly say that this was never something I believed.

Nevertheless, I do think that I was highly affected and corrupted by the misconception that short stories had to be “this way” and “not that“.

i_was_wrong_by_misterjamez-d465clrHere are some things that I’ve learned since.

  1. First and mostly importantly; short stories are a form of art and must be appreciated as such. Some would argue that point, I’m certain.
  2. They are not incomplete if the message has been delivered.
  3. I’ve particularly come to enjoy the open ended short story. Perhaps it is my theory on introspection and belief in theoretical consideration. I cannot say for certain. What I can say is that the open ended story always allows me to ponder on the story for a longer amount of time. It gives me the ability to consider what could have happened next. To me, this provides hours of entertainment. LOL. 😀

While some might believe that my newly acquired knowledge is inapplicable to them, I find that this should be a universal concept. Why? Well, because I trust that if people opened their minds to those possibilities they might learn how to love the short story again.

Thanks for reading and until next time.


Recent Events

Hmmm …

I am trying to find a suitable way to approach the retelling of these events without sounding obnoxious. As it stands, that might not be a possibility. However, I’ll do my best. Be warned that I may come off a bit griping.


There have been some happenings in current weeks that have left me dumbfounded.

I am a 39 year old man. I was under the assumption that those whom are around my age left all childish things behind many years ago. Yet, I find, that this might not be the case.

I wonder—and perhaps it’s just me—do some people obtain a sense of fulfillment when attracting theatrics into their lives? Is it perchance that said individuals feel a sense of incompletion and therefore basks in whatever gratification they get from the farce?


I am not sure about most published authors out there that belong to a House, however in the House that I belong to, the sense of family is absolute. We may not talk all the time, but we support one another wholeheartedly in our own ways. We work together in all that we can and we stick together.

I feel so blessed to be part of a Publishing House such as this.

The reason I say this is because it plays largely into what I’m about to share with you all.


About a week or two ago one of my House Family members had a falling out with an Indie Author whom was attempting to get her Work In Progress seen by as many individuals as she could for Beta Reads.

When my House Sister returned the Beta Read with a large number of thoughts on how said author could polish and perfect her book, this author rebutted with an “I don’t think you read my book thoroughly.” Which was a statement, in and of itself, a ludicrous one as should my House Sister not had read her story thoroughly she wouldn’t had been able to supply such an extensive list of suggestions.

This caused my House Sister to feel slighted as she felt accused of lying. The entire ordeal led to a avalanche of different things.

  • My House Sister disconnected from this individual and voiced her thoughts on the situation to our Publisher.
  • Our Publisher whom for some time had been watching said individual closely—she’d felt agitated by some behavioral patters that said person had been demonstrating—became irate at this person and also disconnected from her.

It must be said that while we belong to a Publishing House, we are an Indie Minded Publishing House which means that we support Indie Authors abundantly.

  • This individual went into a tirade of dramatics (perhaps separation anxiety) and began to act foolish. “Foolish”, of course being an understatement. She was having childish rants on Social Media Networks and trying to connect with other House members, (probably to amend things indirectly somehow ). Just a wide array of absurdities.

Now, it was around that time that this individual had received an ARC copy of a book that was released by our House. As is normally the case with ARC reads, the reader is to leave an “honest” review in exchange for the copy of the book.

This was a book written BY ANOTHER member of the House (My House Sister #2).

This is an endeavor widely practiced throughout the literary industry, so it isn’t anything the people don’t know about.

A few days had passed and said Indie Author hadn’t left her review for the ARC copy. At this point we (as a whole) were beginning to believe that she may not leave the review as she might have been feeling indignant at the House as a whole.

Now, wouldn’t you know it, soon thereafter the Author whose book is in question noticed a 5 Star Rating from this Indie Author on her book and was a combination of shocked and content. She did, however, wonder why this person hadn’t written a review and in lieu left a rating and nothing else.

That afternoon that Author figured she’d share the rating throughout her Social Media outlets as she was particularly proud of it.

And what happened?

When she returned to Goodreads to find the page where the 5 Star Rating had been, she noticed that it had been changed to a 4 Star Rating with a review that said (paraphrasing here) “It’s not really the kind of book I normally read. But it’s good. So it gets 4 Stars.


THIS, brings up several questions.

  1. Why did you CHOOSE to read a book that is outside of your genre preference in the first place?
  2. How come you gave it 5 Stars first, THEN suddenly changed your mind and lowered it to 4 Stars?
  3. Are you being spiteful because you’re somehow feeling scorned by the OTHER members of the House?
  4. Can we really trust that this is your “honest” review, since you don’t seem stable enough to make up your mind?
  5. Perhaps you’re feeling jealous because the Author whose book you just reviewed writes in the same genre as you do, and you hate that her books are better than yours?
  6. How is this a book that you “don’t normally read” yet this Author’s genre is the same as the genre you classify yourself under? Does this mean that you write this genre but don’t read it?

Of course, there were several more questions, but we’ll keep it at a minimum.


About a day or two after the Beta Read fiasco and the Rating/Review change shenanigan, this very same Indie Author approached the very same person whose review she’d swindled and asked her to please join her for her upcoming Book Release. Furthermore, she asked my House Sister #2 to please provide free copies of her book to give away at her Release event.

My House Sister #2 was not only insulted but irate. Who wouldn’t be? This was hypocrisy working in all its splendor.

So, I ask you; does a person like this deserve ANYONE’S time of day? Moreover, is this what the Indie Community has come to—petty squabbles over an honest opinion? Unmerited retaliation over someone’s time well invested? Unhinged melodramatics over the truthful conclusions of your work, that might save you multitudes of heartaches in the future?


Here is my proposition …

Allow this frivolous person to publish her material. Retribution will be returned in spades once it is in the hands of the public.

You can billow your pride and grumble at those whom are doing you a favor all you want, because in the end the reading public will voice its opinion.

Just be ready for the upsurge of unfavorable, even embarrassing, feedback because the reading public takes no prisoners.


Someone Asked Me an Interesting Question …

Disclaimer: This blog post will have some foul language.Question

“How are the short stories you are producing different from any that are currently on the market in your genre?”


You ever had a question asked to you and the first thing you think is “Wow, that’s a great question”? Such was the case in this particular situation.

It was one of those times when I really got to thinking.

You see, for the longest time now I’d been complaining about how today’s Erotica just doesn’t cut it for me. It is true. However, the question above begged the following question:

What is it about modern day erotica that I loath so?

This too is a good question.

It seems to me that one mimics what one respects and one rejects what one detests. (Yes, I know that for the Gramma Nazi’s out there this sentence has too many “ones” in it. That was done on purpose.)

So in order to give a more thorough answer to question number one it’s important that I explain question number two.

Here we go!


Modern vs Historic Erotica:

It’s a darn shame when a book lover pics up a book only to discover that the authors has a vocabulary limited to foul language and vulgar innuendos.


Dick this …

Pussy that …

Clit this …

Asshole that …

Suck this …

Fuck that …



If a reader is anything like me, he/she wants the reading experience to be something special, something otherworldly. If I wanted to read a story that was comparable to cheap pornography I would have picked up an Issue of Adult™. No offense to the lovers of said magazine.

Yet, apart from being a gay man I am also a sapiosexual. For those of you who do not know what that means, it is a person who finds intelligence the most sexually attractive feature.

This does not make me a snoot, I assure you. What it does make me is a person who values cleverness and finds it alluring—nothing more.

This is to say, when I pick up a book that is replete with obscenities it’s very much a turn off. It defaces the wonderment of using your imagination to conjure up an unearthly feat.

Allow me if you will a moment of honest conversation …

I do realize that in today’s society vile jargon is inescapable. It’s a way of life. It is how people communicate. However, I also know that many ages ago communication wasn’t littered with the enormity of foul language that we encounter today. As a matter of fact, Erotica in that time was awash with cryptography.

It would have been frowned upon had a writer used the word “titties” as opposed to  “bosom”. Even more so if said writer used the word “pussy” instead of “femininity”.

You see, demureness in adult literature was considered sexy and mysterious. It allowed for a fantastic expansion of the imagination which was something the people considered arousing and attractive.

Perhaps I have an old soul, which that could very well be the case, but for me “He slid his cock into my wanton hole” just doesn’t make the mark. There isn’t anything sexy about that! Nothing at all. Where is the splendor, the seduction and temptation?

I find that in using vulgar language one takes away from the “taboo effect” that erotic literature is supposed to have. To me, using ethereal verbiage seems to add to the ambiance of sinfulness. It’s like having to decipher a plethora of cryptic diction—something written just for your eyes to see, and just for your mind to discover.

It sometimes helps to imagine my readers hiding under the blankets, with a flashlight in hand, reading my stories knowing that not only are they naughty, but written just for their enjoyment.

It is the limited vocabulary of today’s writers that irks me so. The English language is so expansive and beautiful when used properly. It has charisma and can create elegance and desire when written well.

Think of the legendary Casanova. He did not win women over by saying “Hey Mami, you got a tight ass!” Women melted at his feet because he said things like “The goddess Venus would quake with envy at the exquisite delight of your countenance.

And so, all of this brings me to question number one.

My erotica is different because I write it from the perspective of an artist whom treasures beauty. To me words are dazzling, and glorious art is to be admired. In admiring my words, I respect my reader and in respecting my reader I deliver that which they crave.

I, Adonis Mann, am a gentleman.

Drive By Review: Stitching Inseams by Wordsmith Andrea Houstch

Drive By Review: Stitching Inseams by Wordsmith Andrea Houstch

Hello Readers,

Here is another Drive By Review coming to you hot.


Stitching Inseams: Nyra & Astrid


Andrea Houtsch

Available at Smashwords



Meet Castle Westphalia’s court seamstress and tailor, Nyra Sellet and her assistant and life partner, Astrid. Tristen Callayas has come to Abiniam from Earth and turned society on its head with her other-worldly ideas on how women should dress, among other ideas. Tristen’s penchant for trousers has Abiniam’s Peerage raising polite eyebrows and filling Nyra’s coffers and hours with design work. There simply hasn’t been time for anything beyond scissors, needles and thread for weeks and the two women are feeling the gulf between them. Become a fly on the wall with Stitching Inseams: Nyra and Astrid as these two creative denizens of Abiniam make time for one another and sharing their love.


This is going to be a very quick and straight to the point review.

This short story is about two women, Nyra and Astrid (love the name Astrid, by the way) whom are lovers and life partners. They live in another world. A fantasy world. The story relates that Nyra is making pants/trousers for woman—a new occurrence in their world mandated by Lady Tristen. Nyra is a bit more on the serious side, whereas Astrid is the playful one.

Things heat up quickly with the ladies and immediately work is forgotten for indigence in love making.

This is a very sweet albeit spicy story—a very nice combination, I find. While it is narrated very nicely there were some things that sort of put me off which subsequently lowered my score. There is an excessive use of conjunctions, to the point where I found between one and two in almost every sentence. I also found the run on sentences to be somewhat annoying.

If I were to base my thoughts on story line alone, I could easily say that this story is better than most as there is an actual plot there, as opposed to most erotica available on the market today. I do believe, however, that the author might want to polish up her craft a bit more in order to reduce the excessive use of conjunctions and run on sentences.

My actual score is a 3.5. However, to be fair, on Goodreads and Smashwords I will give it a 4 Star ranking because a 3 Star would be unwarranted.


Until Next Time!