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.

Enjoy!

Blurb:

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.

Sharing.

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.

SORI Samples

Greetings, Beloveds. How long have I been speaking of my upcoming solo anthology? For far too long, to be sure. However, I am highly pleased to announce that the official release is less than 2 months away.

cool-text-syncopation-219617772239910cool-text-of-219617890536010cool-text-ravishing-intensity-219617820840820Is soon to be on its way to you, my dear readers and followers.

div64wy

People often ask me what sets my writing apart from other contemporary LGBTQIA authors. That is a complex question to answer. You see, it is not just one thing, it is many. First and foremost, I do not consider myself contemporary.

To me, “contemporary literature” implies tending, mainstream, like most; those are three things that my writing and stories are not. Not that there is anything wrong with contemporary works. As a matter of fact, I enjoy many contemporary authors. However, if I were to classify my writing, I would call it antiquated and whimsical. I realize that my writing style is as unusual as I am, and with that, I am perfectly content.

I once asked a fan what was her analysis of my writing, and her words were humbling and honoring. She said, “There is something about the way you write about sex. You don’t write about sex as if it were just sex, but rather it comes across art.”

If I were to be completely candid, THAT is exactly how I see it. To me, sex is an experience, not an action. Every experience should be surreal and otherworldly, it should stay with you forever. Experiences should be something far from mundane or redundant. So should sex be. Intercourse is a merging of hearts and souls, what is more magical and unearthly than that? Not many things. However, when sex is defined as a carnal act, all of the magic is expunged and so is all of the beauty.

layla-rose-natalia-starr1

Why, you must be wondering? Why must sex be so appealing if it is simply an act that should appease our carnal need? Well, while that might be true for some, to me, sex and love go hand in hand. What is not beautiful about love? Love transcends the vulgarity of corporal wantonness. Love is an ethereal, tactile sensation that run deep and is paramount to everything and anything.

The fact of the matter is that love is love. Love eclipses gender, age, ethnicity, and boundaries of any kind. And if sex is love enacted, then it should be just as influential.

With that said, allow me to share tidbits of the “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” with you.

div64wy

Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” is divided into seasons, with winter being the first in line. Also, I decided to use a variety of writing styles; first person, third person, past tense, as well as present. One thing they all have in common is the sensual intense element. Here are some excerpt from each season.

Winter

Excerpt of “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.

Yet, I want more. I pine for more than just his body and skin, I thirst for the intimacy of his presence; for the puissance of his soul. More than that, I endeavor to monopolize it. Make him, in every sense of the word, mine and mine alone—for the keeping.

Droplets of perspiration trickle down my chest as I drift my manhood in and out of his dewy cavity, then land on his backside and slowly stream onto the blanket.

Even in my state of deep dormancy I can smell the mustiness of our combined scents and it entices every fragment of my being at a cellular level. Every hair on my body stands on end.

Perhaps, it’s the ferociousness of our intimate encounter, perhaps the fact that I’d been longing for this moment for quite some time. Either way, he is mine now, and I am relishing in the satisfaction that only he can bring—my night time companion.

Why is he only with me in my dreams? When did he start visiting me here? Where did he come from?

All inconsequential questions. They had no place here in my Holiday Repose.

Spring

Excerpt of “Metamorphosis”

Metamorphosis, definition:

The process of transformation from an immature form to an adult form in two or more distinct stages. A change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means.

++++

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.

I was being born. Born anew. Born from freedom, from evolution, from self.

My development came in stages—each one in the form of a man—every one more powerful than the last. Making me stronger, until it eventually transmuted me into the man I am today.

A Pieridae. Mystical, magical and powerful.

Summer

Excerpt of “Tyronian Rapture”

Summer 1841

Victorian England

Cherry Blossom petals from a tree procured in Japan carried adrift with the breeze, the smell of humidity and grass rode past, wafting across beautiful Regina’s face and all I could do was sit and stare. She was lovely in every sense of the limited word, for her resplendence was akin to a celestial being. An angel, to be sure; like none I had ever laid eyes upon. She took my breath away, and I was content to let her.

Her large eyes, chocolatey. Her skin, like the finest grade of caramel. Her unwieldy, black curls pulled to the back of her head in a bun. And the conundrum lie in my desire to see them lose and entangled in my hands. A coveting more trenchant than my knowledge that it was ungodly. 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.

“Meredith,” Mother called, startling me from my hypnosis—Regina. Such was the effect she had on me. In my dreams I touched every inch of her exquisite dark sheath, then kissed every fraction, ensuring to not miss a spot.

Autumn

Excerpt of “He and She”

She looked at herself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person she saw. A stranger in the absolute. A woman who loved the hustle and bustle of the nightlife but was full of regrets in the morning. A woman who longed for the attentions of an outsider to fill the voids of desolation that she’d come to know as her closest ally.

Yet, it was more than that. 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.

As a teenager she’d be diagnosed with Depersonalization Disorder, DPD for short. However, what the psychiatrist failed to realize was that Yehanna wasn’t depersonalized—as she knew who she was—she was just living inside of a supplement. A loaned body, that was not her own. One, that she often did not identify with, plain and simple.

Perhaps her true body had been left behind in some previous incarnation of herself, and this one was provisional. Either way, it didn’t matter. Yehanna had grown tired of the monotonous nature of her ever questionable existence, and the night was the only thing that offered her solace.

With the tip of her finger Yehanna brushed her nose from bridge to point, then across her top lip as if to check and make sure that her features were her own.

From her bedroom emitted the voice of a man whom was just now waking up and preferably sobering from Yehanna’s late night feat. “Yo! Umm, umm …” he stammered.

“Yehanna.”

“Yeah, Yehanna,” he cut in as if he’d known her name all along, but Yehanna knew that he didn’t. “What time is it?”

“11:10.” she replied, her entire disposition displaced, and dejected.

div64wy

There are nine more stories where these came from and they will all be available to you on January 27th, 2016. So, my dear readers, stay tuned for the release of “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity“.

Drive By Review: Never Letting Go

Drive By Review: Never Letting Go

Greetings my esteemed followers.

It has been a great while since I’ve brought you a Drive By Review via this channel. That is to say, my blog. Since working with All Authors Magazine as the columnist of Drive By Reviews (named after my own endeavor), I’ve sort of let things go on this end. Today, I mean to rectify that misstep.

I would like to bring you my thoughts on yet another little story. So, without further ado …

Welcome to another session of …

DBRs

For your consideration, I will be looking at:

neverlettinggoNever Letting Go
BY: Danni Keane
Available On: Smashwords.com

The Blurb:

YA M/M Romance (Previously published as two short stories, Sunshine and Buttercups, and Not Letting Go).

When Josh finds out his dad has cancer, he needs someone to hold his world together. The only person who can do that is his boyfriend, Bradley. But can their relationship survive the emotional fallout when Josh’s dad dies?

div64wy

My Thoughts:

In the realm of heartwarming and touching stories, “Never Letting Go” is at the top of the mark. I was honestly taken by the sentiment with which the main character, Josh tells his story.

Yes, the story is written in first person.

While this story is catered to younger audiences, I find that a mature audience can relate as well, being that it incorporates topics such as young love, loss and mourning.

However, I do find that I am getting ahead of myself. Allow me to regress for the smallest of moments so as to give you a bit more insight into the premise of this tale.

Josh is a young gay man, of high school age, living in England. Recently Josh discovers, rather accidentally, that his father has been diagnosed with cancer. Josh is suddenly confronting a variation of dilemmas—Josh feels as though he has to hide his sexual orientation from his best friend whom Josh is smitten by, and also has to cope with the potential loss of his father whom Josh adores. Neither one an easy feat.In time, Josh discovers that in regards to Bradley (his best friend), his fears are misplaced.Being that this is a relatively short story, I believe, that should I elaborate any further I will spoil the story for potential readers.I can honestly say that I thoroughly enjoyed this story. It was well written, heart felt and had depth of plot and character. From the time it commenced Josh and Bradley because real and tangible to me, as did the quandaries they faced.It is true that loss comes; when it does, loss brings insecurity and confusion with it. However, as was the case with Josh and Bradley, loss does not have to govern the rest of your life. I was very pleased with “Never Letting Go” and look forward to reading more stories by this author.5stars

A Group for LGBT Authors and Readers

Hello all and Happy New Year 2016!

It is so wonderful to connect with you all on this new year, and even more wonderful to realize that we have yet another year to make our dreams come true.

div64wy

Today, I was browsing Google+ an Facebook for “Groups/Communities” to join that would help provide exposure to my works. What I found troubled me. There are little to no Groups/Communities on Facebook and Google+ for LGBTQIA books and book lovers. The ones that I did find do not give much leeway for authors and readers to connect, or for authors to promote their works.

After browsing and thinking about the situation deeply, and knowing that perhaps I am doing a bit too much, I opted to create a Group for said purpose. And, so I did.

I would like to introduce you to “LGBT Bookworms“, a Facebook group for authors and readers alike.

LGBT Bookworms

rainbow-book-375x250

My hope is that this group will acquire a life of its own and people within the community—as well as others that enjoy the literature—might commune, mingle and celebrate our love for the genre.

div64wy

I am blogging about this in the hopes that you help me spread the word and get people involved.

Thank you for your time and all the best.

Regards and love,

Adonis Mann

Why Simmer Smoothe & Sweet?

In recent days Synful Desire and I shared our thoughts on each other’s stories in the “Simmer: Smoothe & Sweet” anthology.

During this time she told me why she loved “Simmer Smoothe” and I told her why I loved “Simmer Sweet“. Here is our conversation.

donny poster

Synful Desire Speaks on “Simmer Smoothe”

Desire

Since Simmer Smoothe is first in this erotic compilation, I figured I would chime in first with my thoughts.

What is so sizzling about Simmer Smoothe

  1. That a character has Smoothe as a surname.

It’s like having a last name of “Sexy” or “Luscious”. One of those names … where at the sound of them, or even reading them, you start chuckling. You also start imagining whether said person is “Sexy”, “Luscious”, or in this case, “Smoothe”. All I know is that if that person isn’t, watch the teasing and Internet memes start flying.

  1. That the 2 main characters full names sound well to do and fashion forward.

Thomas Kent Simmer. Spencer Richard Smoothe. They sound like aristocrats with money—like old English money. Those names also sound like they know what is the latest in fashion. Heck they both could probably model for GQ Magazine.

  1. That one of the character’s provided some comic relief.

Sometimes, one just needs a break from the drama. That comes in the form of a character named Rene. Now, I don’t want to reveal much more but that he was quite a delight.

  1. The series of events is synonymous with what could happen to any couple.

What was painted out in “Simmer Smoothe” is something that cannot just happen to a gay couple but to any couple.  The range of emotions demonstrated with all parties was definitely understandable, even those walking on the wrong side of right, if you will.

  1. THE sex is hot.
  2. The SEX is hot.
  3. The sex IS hot.
  4. The sex is HOT.
  5. Um … did I say the sex is hot?
  6. For real, “Simmer Smoothe” is deeper than sizzling sex. It is, written in a way that is a cross between Picasso & Porn, with a plot and without the cheesy music. Yet, without the steamy sex, it’s just be a love story of sorts, don’t you think?

 

div64wy

Wow, Desire, I’m so flattered. 😀

Here are my thoughts on “Simmer Sweet”.

poster

Adonis Mann Speaks on “Simmer Sweet”

adonis

When it comes to plot, this story does not lack. It’s such a delight to read an erotica tale which actually tells a story and isn’t full of mindless sex. Not that mindless sex is bad, but sometimes one needs something to keep one invested.

For me, said investment comes in the form of Kesha. Not that Teresa isn’t a wonderful character as well. However, Kesha reminded me of the unwavering friend that has always been truly smitten, yet remains silent in the best interest of the other party. It speaks of courage, also, of true love.

 

Then we have the character of Chris. He is the iconic, proverbial, “Player“. The man that every woman loathes, yet always seems to be drawn to. He’s despicable, yet that’s exactly what keeps the reader engaged. Said situation reminded me of a soap opera, if you will. The villain slash lady’s man that all the ladies love to hate and hate to love. Great things, indeed.

 

Now, regarding the sex … “Simmer Smoothe” isn’t the only story in this anthology that has steamy sex. “Simmer Sweet” does exactly what it’s name implies; simmers until it overflows, then submerges the reader into sweet and sensual sex. Ravishing and thrilling all at once.

 

“Simmer Sweet” is also a relateable story. While a work of fiction the premise is something that does not scream fiction. Any couple, any place, could have gone through these same events. In other words, the conflict in “Simmer Sweet” rings true to life. In my opinion that is always a good thing.

 

Told in a fashion that is both down to earth and rapturous, “Simmer Sweet” hits all the right notes to make it a hit. 🙂

div64wy

Well, if you haven’t seen it yet, please take a peek at this Book Trailer.

yourcopy

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 *

div64wy

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.

6311783_orig

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:

Simmer

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.

keep-calm-and-hold-on-29

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. 🙂

div64wy

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.

cooltext1929775007

Alan, Fay and Demona by Synful Desire, A Deeper Look

What happens when passion blinds reason? The ardent fire of desire meets the shocking and harsh blows of reality in this Prelude of Prism. The convoluted relationships of three individuals morph into a rainbow of disarray.

div64wy

afd-cov

Recently I sat down with Author Synful Desire and asked her a question about her upcoming story, “Alan, Fay & Demona: Preludes of Prism 1“.

div64wy

Adonis Mann: As simple a question as this might be, I only ask because I am genuinely intrigued. I’m am fascinated by the name Demona. Was this a name of your creation, or is it a real name? Please tell us a little bit about it, if you do not mind?

Synful Desire: As far as the name Demona, I actually made the name up, although the character she is based from is not. I wanted to pick a name that was ordinary but seemed different due to the emphasis I placed on the divide between the background of Demona and the background of Fay.

I know it’s not the most glamorous answer but it is the most authentic one.
Thanks Adonis!
div64wy
Well, there you have it folks. With that being said, stay on the look out for Synful Desire’s upcoming book “Alan, Fay & Demona: Preludes of Prism 1