Great news. There are several new books ready for you. I have taken a new young author under my wings and her work is just extraordinary. She creates great story-lines and superb, omg this is real, erotic passages that will have you drooling.
Her name is Hannah Blackbird. She is 23 and writes like she has such a wealth of experience. You have to read to fully appreciate. We have published some 5 stories so far but she has a huge bank of work that is unpublished. I am looking forward with lip licking anticipation to reading and publishing more from her. The stories to date include LOST ANGELS.
The story begins:
Some memories don’t stick. They’re not important or consequential enough to make a lasting impression. But I remember Aiden. Everything about Aiden. For the first time in my life, in my messed-up shunted around excuse of a life, I felt as though I’d found someone who came from the same place.
We were young. Young and angry and selfish and dangerous.
I think we felt as though the world owed us something. It was easy to make that
assumption, especially when we were wandering around Los Angeles, wide-eyed and
hungry.
We were always hungry back then. I’m not sure what for.
Success. Excitement, maybe. We’d slope down the streets of Bel Air, Brentwood
and Beverly Hills, shirts and hair damp with sweat as we looked at everything
we didn’t have.
There’s no harm in looking. We saw the wealth, the homes,
the cars; everything jutting out, offensively on display like a porn-star with
over-enhanced tits. There was something both sickening and extraordinary about
it.
Summer had set in. The rich families had gone on
vacation. The houses lay empty. Big, gated residences with pretty gardens. Palm
trees. Balconies and pools. We’d see the maids go in, the pool cleaners, and
once a week, the gardeners. They worked in a perfect routine.
We timed it. Picked the easiest house. Waited until the
maid left. Ran around the back, pushed through the tall hedge and cut a hole in
the wire fence. It tore a scratch in my leg, made the blood trickle down to my
ankle.
Pristine white sun loungers were out by the pool. It was
secluded, private. Aiden caught the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it off. He
kicked his boots off, unzipped his jeans, stripped down out of his boxers and
dived in one perfect arch into the pool.
“Fuck!” he gasped, surfacing. “Get in here, Lise!”
I didn’t need to be told twice. We swam up and down,
raced each other, luxuriating in the clean, perfect water.
“Imagine if we actually lived here,” I breathed. “If we
were like this rich couple with all this to ourselves.”
The story weaves a story that will have you wondering what will happen next.next
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I'll tell you more nearer the date.
Good luck and keep reading and listening
Jim Masters
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