Back in the Saddle


Ride em, cowboy.

Merry Christmas!

Yeah, it’s about a week late, but as my old buddy Jim Anchower would say, I’ve been busier than a one-legged lady in an ass-kickin’ contest.

(See here for more words of wisdom from Jim Anchower.)

So, the night before Christmas Eve, while I was celebrating the alma mater’s fifth straight win over the soulless denizens of the University of Missouri (Hey, MIZNOZ, we OWN you!) the old Dell went crapped out on me.

To give you all an idea as to how old this computer was, please bear in mind that it was running on Windows XP.

Which originally was released in 1998.

Yeah. That’s old.

Multiple reboots failed to return the computer from the dead. Luckily, Best Buy was open at 7 AM on Christmas Eve. So I went and put a new computer on the store credit card. And they were able to access the hard drive from the old computer, so I could transfer over all my in-progress stories to the new computer, along with the finished products from all the way back to 2015.

Trust me, ladies. There is nothing like the feeling of leaning over the shoulder of a nice guy from the Geek Squad and pointing out the word docs you want to save, some of which have titles like “My Horny MILF Neighbor,” and “Polly Prude Plays Dress-Up.”

I have to say they didn’t bat an eye. Of course, compared to some things these people probably see, my porn is most likely fairly tame.

Thank god for non-judgmental tech-support, though. That’s all I can say.

Later that day, I drove home for Christmas Eve with the family. We had snow, so the roads were a mess. But I got home with no problem, spent several hours with my parents, brothers, and various nieces, nephews, and in-laws without strangling any of them, and got back to Chicago early Christmas Day.

The last few days has been spent catching up. I set up the new computer on Tuesday night, which includes new speakers which range from ‘nice’ to ‘oh Jesus Christ my ears are bleeding that’s so loud.’

Other than that, not much else new. It’s been really dang cold. Like, freeze-your-tongue-to-the-flagpole cold. Seven below yesterday morning. And we’ve got more snow on the way tonight, then ANOTHER cold front coming through.

I have anew story coming as soon as I finish my final edit and the artwork comes through. Keep your eyes peeled for “Aphrodite’s Daughter.”

Oh, and by the way, I have a post-Christmas sale going on at Smashwords. So if you want some high-quality smut for 25% off, here’s your chance.

Have a great New Year!




The Ragu Cure



So those of you who follow my twitter feed (@churchoferotica) will probably know that I have been feeling less than chipper the past few days. A sore throat on Tuesday turned into a a full-on head cold by Thursday morning, and I spent most of Thursday afternoon at work begging for someone to kill me.

The good news is that our company gave us yesterday off. The bad news is that the cold didn’t feel like taking the day off as well. By yesterday evening I was swimming in a disgusting heap of half-used tissues, empty packs of Dayquil and Benadryl, and glasses of half-finished orange juice.

Just the idea of eating was enough to turn my stomach, since my entire body seemed to have become nothing more than a machine to produce immense quantities of snot and phlegm.

But you know the old saying, “Feed a cold potentially lethal ragu spaghetti sauce, because it will flee your body in horror.”

For no good reason, I decided I wanted spaghetti for supper. Unfortunately, the only spaghetti sauce in the house was at LEAST six months old, and (as per usual) was only half full.

But when a casual look revealed no teeming hordes of fungus on the inside of the jar, I used it, in the hope that an as-yet-undiscovered antibiotic might be hidden inside, and it might do battle against the dastardly forces of Sickness and Fatigue.


After further self-medication consisting of several bottles of Chicago’s finest microbrew, I retired to my bedroom. At nine o’clock. And I slept, off and on, until seven this morning. Where I woke to find myself, if not in the pink of health, feeling quite substantially better than I was the previous night.

Today has been spent baking for the family Christmas Eve get-together tomorrow (we might get snow!)

Wishing you and yours a safe, happy, and germ-free Christmas,


Rattle and Hum


Sure. Pretend you’re not jealous. You’re not fooling anyone

So the good news is that the old man is home from the hospital, which is actually a surprise. I called him last night, hoping for a couple of minutes of conversation before he got tired out. Instead, he told me is at home. And happy to be there.

I called him again tonight and found that he was at his local watering hole with my brother, his wife, and their daughter, and he was as chipper as could be. So Christmas is going to be a lot more jolly than I was expecting it to be a few days ago.

The bad news is that I think my car is about to give up the ghost. It’s a Pontiac G6, with about 120K on it. I bought it brand new back in 2007, the first car I had ever bought new. An almost-correct picture is above, though I don’t have a spoiler on mine.

It is also the last internal-combustion car I will ever own. It has developed a mysterious rattle in the engine compartment, and those rarely turn out to be nothing. I’ll get it fixed, if the cost isn’t too prohibitive, and then wait for Tesla to let me know when it is time for me to design and order the Model 3 I put a deposit on last spring.


Oh, Baby. Come on over here. Let me…touch you.

That’s about it for now. I have finished my latest story. “Aphrodite’s Daughter” is the sequel to “Aphrodite’s Lover.” I like the way it turned out, though the ending needs some tweaking. I have my publisher and her artist working on a cover, but i hope to have it published before New Year’s.

Peace out,


Toot Toot!


How about some more beans, Mr. Taggert?

“I’d say you boys have had enough!”


So apparently the old man is farting again.

It’s crazy that something which embarrassed me almost to tears when I was a teenager is now something I was praying for, but there you are.

So now he goes on a clear diet, which means water, tea, jello, broth…you know. Things you can see through. If that goes well, then he’ll graduate to soft foods like oatmeal and scrambled eggs. And hopefully be released before Christmas, before he drives the entire medical staff crazy.

My brother is making noise about having him stay at my brother’s place. Which is fine. But I wouldn’t be willing to bet a nickel that it actually happens. My dad is stubborn to the point of parody. So he’ll string Mike along, and then insist on staying at his own house, no matter how much it drives Mike crazy.

In other news, I’ve had a pretty good run on Smashwords over the last few days. But not many sales from the latest anthology I put out with four other authors. So if you like lesbian erotica, here’s your chance!

No Boys Allowed

Could Be Worse


Sexy, but not really happy. Like me right now.

So I drove home today to see my dad after his surgery.

Now, understand. The old man is a naturally cantankerous sort. The kind of guy who puts the “Grumpy Old Kraut” in “Grumpy Old Kraut.”

My family is German, BTW, so I’m allowed to say things like Grumpy Old Kraut.

To my surprise, he was fairly mellow, considering he’s had 15 inches of his small intestine removed the other day. He actually called me by name, which if you knew the man, would show that he was either A) terrified by his own mortality or B) Drunk.

I am siding on option A

I also got to see the scar, which was surprisingly small. Thank God.

They’re supposed to let him out as soon as he can pass gas. As far as I understand it, being able to fart means that the intestines are up to snuff again. Then they’ll let him eat and go home, hopefully sending along enough pain pills and warnings so he doesn’t do anything stupid like try to bench-press a car.

After I left the hospital I took my mom shopping (always an adventure) and visited various brothers, nieces, nephews, and sisters-in-law. On the way home I outlined a new erotica story, which will combine aliens, lesbians, space-travel, and body transformation.

That’s all for now.

Peace out.


Good News, Bad News, Good News

No Boys Allowed

OK, first the good news:

The third anthology from the “Bad Girls of Erotica” is now up. As you can see in the awesome artwork above, it features stories by myself, Laura Lovecraft, Ashley Berry, Alexa Nichols, and Veronica Sloan. So for the low low price of $6.99, you can get five lesbian erotica stories.

That being said, it’s kind of hard for me to get excited by this. You see, my father went into the hospital yesterday. What had started as a routine check-up morphed into abdominal, resulting in a removal of about a foot and a half of his small intestine.

Now, the second bit of good news. Everything SEEMS to be all right. The cancer that was the reason for the surgery does not seem to have spread. The old man is in relatively good spirits (or as good as you can be once you’ve had a good chunk of your guts removed) and my brothers are keeping a close eye on him to make sure he doesn’t leave the hospital until he can take care of himself.

I will be driving down to see him over the weekend. We were never what you would call close. I was always the weird child who had absolutely no interest in care or greasy machinery or electronics; the one who always had her nose stuck in a book, who worked thirty-hour weeks in high school just to be able to afford college and escape my hometown.

But, still. He’s my dad, you know? And I can’t imagine a world without him. He taught me how to grill and to play catch and to drive and introduced me to Monty Python.

He never stops being your dad.


Kill it With Fire!

ALANA CHURCH - Love Hippie Style.jpg


Books can be strange things. Sometimes you love them and you sit at the computer from dawn to dusk, falling in love with the characters, the storyline, and everything else. Even the parts which are frustrating are fun due to the sense of satisfaction when everything falls into place. you know, somewhere deep inside you, that this good.

Love, Hippie Style,” is not one of those stories.

I mean, it doesn’t suck. It’s a perfectly acceptable erotica story, about a woman who is fighting to establish her own credentials in the corporate world and who meets a free-spirited musician in the 1960s.

Yeah, I know. The plot is so thin it’s practically a trope. The Ice Queen meets the Artist, and learns to Relax.

The story first started as a spoof on a phrase from South Park, where Cartman is always screaming “Screw You, Hippie!” at people he hates. Which is pretty much everyone.

“Screw You, Hippie!” was going to be my title, and originally, my female protagonist was going to be a lot less sympathetic. But I found myself sympathizing with Jacqueline more and more as the story went on. But it was HARD. I had to practically force myself back to the story. I found myself making typo after typo, as if even my own fingers didn’t want to write it.

So I finally finished it and published it today. It’s been on my plate as an idea for two years. But since it has none of the things which have become my go-to selling points over the last few years (taboo and fantasy, especially dwelling on gods, goddesses, and nature spirits) I expect it to sell like week-old squid.

Oh, well. At least it’s done. On to the next story, which I am LOVING. “Aphrodite’s Daughter” has a conversation between The Greek Goddess of Love and Desire and her estranged son, Deimos, which can only be described as psychotic mixed with schizophrenic.

Share and enjoy,


Four Day Weekend!


Whoo Hoo!

Been a good 24 hours here at the Church of Erotica.

First, after three excruciating losses in a row, culminating in an absolute dick-punch of a loss to Maryland, my University of Illinois Fighting Illini finally managed to win a basketball game against Austin Peay.

(“Let’s Go Peay!”)


Today at work I had one turn-up go absolutely south (for some reason, the people who are completely revamping their internal telecom network didn’t seem to think it was worth their time to have their network engineer on the call) but another one completed, so, to paraphrase Meat Loaf, “One out of Two Ain’t Bad.”

Then home again, (for a day-day weekend, wooo!) where I submitted my portion of the latest anthology by The Bad Girls of Erotica. This one is called “No Boys Allowed,” and is chock-full of lesbian erotica. My contribution is titled “My Neighbor’s a Porn Star!” It follows the story of a single woman who discovers that her neighbor….

Wait for it….

Is a porn star!


And since she has long wondered about what it might be like to be with another woman, Barbara and her porn-star neighbor (Heather) hook up, to the satisfaction of both.

I rally like this story. It doesn’t flow too fast, and gives both characters a chance to know each other before the clothes come flying off.

I just realized it’s been a few days since I plugged one of my own books. So I might as well do it now.

The Witch's Demon

She’ll CUT yo ass

“The Witches Demon” is the final installment in my “Coven Chronicles” quartet (unless you want to count the prequel, “Lord of the Forest,” in which OH GOD WHY AM I CONFUSING THE SUBJECT OK I’LL STOP NOW.)

ANYWAY, “The Witch’s Demon” is the end of the quartet. After three books of sex, bashing of religion, talk about the role of paganism in society, sex, new characters, sex, baseball, and even more sex, we finally reach our conclusion.

To be honest, i think it holds up pretty well. The final confrontation between the witches and the forces of evil is believable, and the denouement is not too drawn out. We have our happily ever after, but still leave room for more stories to come. And since the Chamberlain Coven has walk-on roles in a a couple of my other books, that’s no bad thing.

In case you want to buy the entire anthology, here’s a link. No pressure.

Have a great weekend,


Killing My Soul, Slowly

Office Space

So, I work for a telecom company.

Which is mostly OK. The company is a good one, based in downtown Chicago. The perks are good, the pay is OK, the people are mostly all right.


So, right before I was set to leave today, one of my coworkers comes to me. “Alana, *stupid useless employee who should have been fired six months ago* needs your help.”

So I go over to her. Hooray for the joys of being a supervisor. *SUEWSHBFSMA* had been on a conference call for FORTY-FIVE minutes without one of the other parties joining. And she apparently would have been happy with that situation for the rest of the day. Because she sure as hell wasn’t making an effort to get the other party on the call.

So I ended up staying at work for an extra hour, while I tracked down the people who should have been on the call, babysat her, showed her what she did wrong on her order, gave her verbatim instructions on how she should note her order and work it going forward, who she should follow up with tomorrow, and basically did her job for her.

I will not be paid overtime for this, of course.

And she has the nerve to complain to me because apparently I wasn’t nice enough to her. If she had done her job right in the first place, rather than get hired simply because she once worked at AT&T, maybe she wouldn’t be a dead weight around the necks of everyone else in our department.


So I missed my train, and the train after my train, and the train after that was late, so I stood in the freezing cold for half an hour, and just got home about thirty minutes ago.

People suck.

No time for writing in “Aphrodite’s Daughter” tonight, though I did have some good ideas when I woke up this morning, which ended up getting me all hot and bothered. Hopefully I can remember them over the weekend when i finally have some time to write.



The Work Is Its Own Reward

Short post today. I had my company Christmas party on Friday, where I actually won a raffle (first time in 15 years)! So I have a $50 Amazon gift card to spend on sweet, sweet porn. Or maybe something else, who knows.

The rest of the weekend has been spent writing. For the curious, I am working on the sequel to my book, “Aphrodite’s Lover.” The title of this book is “Aphrodite’s Daughter.”

In the first book, our main character is Phaedra, who, through a series of events too tangled to easily explain, ends up with the spirit of the goddess Aphrodite in her head.

The second (and final) book will tell her story, as well as that of her husband and her daughter. Aphrodite intends her worship to be brought back. But there are forces which would like to make sure that never happens. Phaedra’s daughter Titania will slowly become the main focus as the book goes on. And I am LOVING a new character I am bringing in. Rupert is an English student who is thrown together with Titania, and he has the kind of sarcastic, take-no-prisoners sense of humor which I absolutely adore.

I’ll try to keep you posted. I am about 5K words in. I expect the story to be at least 20K.

After that, it’s going to be another “Polly Prude” short story, and then another major project, tentatively titled “Sexually Transmitted Desire.” This is a combination of alien invasion and mind-control, and it is WEIRD.

Peace out.