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.





Short post tonight. I try to keep my “real” life and my online persona separate. But sometimes, it is really hard. Like tonight.

I feel like such a damn idiot.

A few weeks ago, I met someone. And we seemed to click. There seemed to be a connection. And I ignored the warning signs. Hell. I was born in the Nixon administration and haven’t been in a serious relationship in years. What do I know about how things work these days?

So I let myself believe. And tonight it all turned into shit, with me driving home, cursing myself for a fool.

It isn’t just the money. Though that hurts. It’s the way I LET myself get scammed. For the past few days I was telling myself that it was too good to be true. Guess what. It was!

I’m such a fucking idiot.

Peace out.


Religion, Politics, and the Great Pumpkin


I found myself thinking about religion today.

While I was home for Thanksgiving, I watched TV with my mom. Which is, to begin with, a challenging exercise, since she feels compelled to comment on everything on the screen. But my sister-in-law had put on a DVD of Charlie Brown specials, and since we all love Charlie Brown, it was fine. The second show that came on was “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” You know how it goes. Lucy is mean, Charlie Brown gets a bag full of rocks when he goes out trick-or-treating. Snoopy dreams of being a WWI flying ace. My mother dances along with Snoopy, because she loves seeing him happy.

And Linus spends all night in a pumpkin patch, waiting for the Great Pumpkin to show up and give him a bag full of toys. Lucy finally has to drag him home in the middle of the night. But at the end of the show, he is still ranting to Charlie Brown about how NEXT YEAR the Great Pumpkin will show up, and they’ll all be SORRY THEY DOUBTED HIM, just like the fundamentalist ministers who insist that Jesus will be coming back to smite us all.

Charles Schulz, the creator of “Peanuts,” was a deeply religious man. But I think he was, in his own way, poking fun at religion, and the dangers of taking it too literally.

I have a serious problem with religion, which is expressed quite often in my writing. In fact, my first novel, “The Guardians of Heklos,” comes very close to being little more than a primal scream against the entire Judeo-Christian ethos. By the time I got to some of my other books, I had toned it down a bit.

Which brings me to today’s book, “The Witch’s Graduation.”

The Witch's Graduation

Hey there.

The first two installments of this series were about witches, taboo relationships, and the nature of power. But this chapter delves fairly deeply, and at times unpleasantly, into the dangers of religious fundamentalism. One of our new characters, Steven Johnson, is on the run from his foster-father. He has been beaten and abused until he seems to be on the verge of breaking down.

By chance, he is taken in by the Chamberlains. And under their care, he begins to reclaim his lost self. The graduation in the title refers to both John and Susanna’s graduation from high school, and Steven’s “graduation” to a full member of the coven, as it has been discovered that he is that rarest of things, a man of power (just like John.)

I really enjoyed writing this book. There is always the danger, as a writer, of being lazy and only giving the reader what they want. I call this the “Terry Brooks” syndrome. TB was the first writer to really cash in on the mania for fantasy after “The Lord of the Rings” became so popular in the sixties. His first books were little more than thinly-veiled ripoffs of LOTR. Hell, one of his characters NAMES was stolen from LOTR.

But anyway, this book challenged me. And hopefully others, as well. Here’s a link if you’re interested.


Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

So, I went home for Thanksgiving.


Don’t get me wrong. I love my family. I just love them a lot more when there is some distance between us.

217 miles feels jusssst about right.

The thing is, for nearly twenty years I was the only member of my immediate family who didn’t live in the same town as everyone else. My folks moved to a small town in downstate Illinois when I was about 4 years old. They still live there. So do three out of my four brothers. So when I go home, there is always this vague pressure that I would be making things a lot easier on everyone if I moved back down there, too.

In the words of my oldest brother, “That’s ‘no’ for a thousand, Alex.”

But i had a good time. I got to see my parents, my nieces and nephew, exchange gossip with my sisters-in-law, eat my father’s deep-fried turkey and my mother’s  green bean casserole.

Then I drove back home, where I could sleep in my own bed.

Now, to start fulfilling my promise, is a short blurb about one of my books. To continue the traditions started back in February, i am doing the second book in my “Coven Chronicles” series, “The Witch’s Cousins.”

The Witch's Cousins

The first book had John Chamberlain, for reasons that boiled down to ‘magic,’ bedding his twin sister and his mother. In this book, he has to sleep with his cousins, Agatha and Hilda.

But we also get new characters in the story. These, in my mind, really made the story take off. I think it was on the verge of becoming your typical harem fantasy, where our male protagonist, virile and impossibly well-endowed, surrounds himself with a bevy of adoring women, none of whom seem to have a problem sharing him with the rest.

Well, screw that. The Chamberlain women are strong-willed. And when john makes the mistake of suggesting they all move in to make things easier for him, they cut him off at the knees.

Enter Steven Johnson and Calvin Grant. They broaden the story, give it scope, and make it about more than just sex. There is danger, and love, and risk.

In case you feel like buying it, here’s a link.

Happy reading,


You Can’t Hate Me As Much As I Hate Myself

Ok. So yeah, I suck.

I promised to post about one book a day.


Yeah. I TOTALLY suck.

I could make excuses. “I lost my job. My boyfriend (or girlfriend) left me. An old friend came in from out of town. There was a plague. Locusts. An invasion of Visigoths. IT WASN’T MY FAULT I SWEAR TO GOD!!”

None of that would be true.

I totally bailed on you.

Which is all on me.

I have a forty hour a week job. With commute, make it closer to fifty-five. Seriously. Try living in the Chicago suburbs with a job downtown and see how much free time you have. And when I get home, all I really want to do is write the sweet, sweet porn that keeps literally dozens of dollars flowing my way each month.

But. Still. I made a promise and I failed to deliver.

Luckily for you, another writer has proven to be an inspiration.

In the last few months, I have joined a group which labels itself, loosely, as “The Bad Girls of Erotica.” We have published two anthologies and are currently working on a third. One of those writers is Alexa Nichols, who apparently is able to write a blog, high-class erotica, and hold down a job, a relationship, and deal with numerous crises all at the same time.



Let that be a lesson to me.

Starting Friday I SWEAR I will be updating this blog EVERY DAMN DAY, or may the many-teethed demons of Rigel VI tear the flesh from my bones.

Peace out.



One Book a Day

So, blogs are a lot harder than I thought.

It seems, in order to make a blog worthwhile, you should really blog. And not just read other blogs, or write porn, or sink into despair as the University of Illinois loses to Penn State. Again.

Sorry, Head Coach John Groce. You’re a nice guy, a Christian, and a leader. But you’re a shit basketball coach. Please accept this nice fruit basket and a severance package, and get the hell out of Champaign.

So…I just made a promise to myself.

One book a day.

From this day forward, I will blog about one book a day. It might be a book I have written. It might be a book I have just finished reading. But I promise you, Gentle Reader, one book a day.


One of mine.


“The Witch’s Daughter” is the first part of what came to be called “The Coven Chronicles.” It was inspired partly by a series of books by Tanya Huff, which centers around a family of women who are witches, and who range in personality from “extremely strong-willed” to “thoroughly unpleasant.”

The thing that I borrowed…wait. The thing that I stole from the series is its casual acceptance of incest within the family. The Gales have very few male children. When they do, they have extraordinary power, which makes them all but irresistible to the women in the family. The first book more or less starts with our female protagonist waking up in bed with her brother. Or is it her cousin? Whatever it was, it was hot as fuck.

So, yeah, I stole that idea. (pro-tip for aspiring writers: Don’t be afraid to steal good ideas. Shakespeare did it. I do it. So will you.)

In my series, we have a family of witches in Des Moines. Because that’s where a coven would hide, right? The women have power. But in order to properly channel that power, a gift from a long-ago forest-god ancestor, the women need to be bound to a man of power. And there just aren’t many of those left.

So they have waited for the only son of that generation, John Chamberlain, to come into his heritage, via a mechanism which I call “the Crossing.”

In this book, the first of four, John crosses, along with his twin sister. But an evil power has been stalking the Chamberlain family for generations. It would destroy them if it could. So what we have is not sexy taboo romp, but an introduction to a world of erotic danger, where one false step could drag an entire family down into darkness.

Not that you asked, but here is a link to “The Witch’s Daughter” on Smashwords.





So, I…haven’t published in quite a while, huh?

Yeah. Sorry about that.

You know how it is. Work grabs you by the happy bits, you get caught up in a new story (which is AWESOME, BTW), the holidays come, you get a case of Killer Martian Death Flu, and before you know it, it’s nearly Goddamn 2017 and you haven’t updated your blog in nearly a month.

So, the news.

I am working on a new story, tentatively titled “Island of Desire.” The story was originally conceived of as a downed WWII fighter pilot finding and (ahem) befriending a castaway woman.

Plots change.

Right now the story takes place in the present day,  with a brother-sister team moving to the tropics for reasons too complicated to explain, and falling in love with the islands, their hosts, and, eventually, each other.

But I only told you that story so I could tell you about this one.

Snow Maid.jpg

Recently, one of the free erotica sites held a winter holidays contest. I submitted “The Snow Maid,” one of my first published stories.


In keeping with my pledge to tell you about my stories, let me tell you about the kernel for this one. It was originally inspired by a truly awful bit of Antarctic exploration. The Scott expedition of 1912 resulted in the deaths of the entire polar party, because Robert Falcon Scott stupidly decided to add, at the last minute, Captain Warren Oates, as a member of the team. Which meant that the five (rather than four) members of the team were trying to survive, in the worst climate on the planet, on only eighty percent of the calories as originally planned.

On their way back from the South Pole (having been beaten by Roald Amundsen, who was vastly better prepared), Captain Oates developed severe frostbite in his feet and legs. Starving and diseased, he walked out of the tent one morning, into a howling blizzard. He was never seen again. His last words were “I am just going outside for a time, and I might be some time.”

I read that story, and thought, “What if?”

What if we transferred the setting to somewhere more accessible (in this case, Russia)? And made the protagonist an American?

What if we brought in an immortal nature spirit named Polina, also known as the Snow Maid. Or Mother Snegurochka?

What if they fell in love?

I love this story, and I hope you do, too.

About Me


Not Me

So, it has come to my attention that I have posted multiple times on this humble little blog and actually not told you jack-squat about myself, except for my debilitating hatred of monkeys and my belief that I think I write pretty good erotica.

Where to begin?

Well, I was born and raised in Downstate Illinois. For those of you not familiar with Illinois, Downstate means anywhere which is not Chicago or its suburbs. This includes everything from fairly large towns like Springfield, Rockford, and Decatur to little piss-ant burgs like Dupo, Batchtown, and Paxton. (Seriously. FUCK Paxton. Also Buckley and Loda) My family was and is working class. My father is an independent electrician, my mother a housewife.

I’m not going to give a lot of details about my childhood. It wasn’t much different than millions of other working-class kids growing up in Middle America in the 1980s. We all watched MTV, wanted to be able to afford fashions we now laugh at hysterically, worked crappy, dead-end jobs to be able to afford gas for our crappy, rusty cars, and dreamed of getting the hell out of wherever it was we were. I was a nerdy kid. I discovered Tolkien when I was nine, Douglas Adams and Mercedes Lackey when I was thirteen, and lived for the St Louis Cardinals and the University of Illinois athletics teams.

(And if you think a girl can’t be a sports nut, well, fuck you, too. We can and are.)

I graduated from high school in 1990 and attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. My degree was in Secondary Education, simply because it meant I got to read a lot rather than actually study, and I didn’t have to take any higher math courses, which are the devil.

After graduation, I looked around and asked, “Where’s my job?” Sadly, school districts weren’t just handing out teaching positions in 1994. After a summer back home, I moved back to Champaign and began the worst four years of my life.

Substitute teaching.

For those of you who have forgotten how you treated your substitute teachers when you were in school, let me say: I hate you. Subbing has the same high pay as a fry cook, but none of the dignity. By the end of that time, I was thisclose to committing homicide against some smart-ass seventh grader.

Luckily, a friend of mine from college saved me from a prison sentence by offering me an interview at a new start-up telecom company near Chicago. The company was growing, she said. It had vacation time and bonuses and a health plan. Come on up and move in with me!

So I burned the last of my savings and moved into an apartment reeking of Indian take-out in lovely unincorporated Hinsdale, Illinois in the summer of 1998.

The company we worked for went bankrupt inside of 5 months.

After a week of soul-searching, which involved a LOT of alcohol, we both went after new jobs. I scored a temp job with IBM and soon after, an entry-level position with WorldCom. My friend glommed onto a tiny little start-up telecom company (sound familiar?) in downtown Chicago. Three years later I cast caution to the wind and accepted a position there as well.

The tiny little start-up? Now a company that bills out SIX MILLION dollars per year. My friend? The CEO. Me? Well, not the CEO, but I’m not doing too badly. I have a car and a house and a dim-witted turtle, and enough free time that I can write smut and publish it on the internet, and write about how much I hate monkeys on my blog.

Seriously. FUCK monkeys. Have you ever looked into their eyes? Do it, and see the face of evil looking back at you.

So, that’s my story. At least one of them. There are others. but if you want the bare bones, see below:

Sports: Baseball. College football. College basketball (St Louis Cardinals, University of Illinois)

Age: 44

Sex: Not often enough (rim shot)

Orientation: Straight

Marital Status: Single

Politics: Progressive

Race: Caucasian

Religion: Atheist

Home: Suburban Chicago

Monkeys: Fuck you