Autumnal Sexy
If autumn was a woman, she’d be as ripe as the harvest and curvy like a gourd. The sway of her hips would be as slow as a pour of clover honey on an October morning.
Read MoreMy Second Shame
What I’ve figured out so far is this: that aspen bark leaves a white powdery dust on my lips when I kiss it; that wildflowers drenched in morning dew are as potent and fragrant as a woman aroused…
Read MoreSexy Excerpt: Seduced By A River
The leaves are just starting to unfurl here in Colorado at 9,000 feet. In this sexy excerpt from my soon-to-be-republished erotic memoir, Seduced By A River, my man wasn’t here to share them with me. Longing, my muse, loves to have her way with me…
Read MoreWild Irish Rose
I had a lover in college who called me his Wild Irish Rose. He was even wilder and more Irish than me, so we never progressed beyond the fun sex and friendship. The woods around my cabin are laced with the pink blossoms of wild roses right now. As I hike among them, my thoughts keep drifting to that time of my budding sexuality. I was nineteen and hungry to explore my sexuality. He was twenty-three, my Trustafarian roommate’s best friend, and happy to oblige. I remember how my body craved sex , like chocolate but 100 times stronger. I remember calling him him at 10:00 on a Friday night and...
Read MoreFarewell Kiss
I get off on winter. So last Sunday when I woke up at my cabin to four inches of fresh snow, I was outside in the gray dawn, arms flung open, spinning around like it was confetti. Because metaphorically it is. Despite what my gardening friends would say, May snowstorms in Colorado are reason to celebrate. They translate to wildflowers in June; whitewater in July; and creeks that still dance in August. They keep the aspens’ bark silver and their leaves shimmering gold in September. Snow in May means that the words drought and fire, words that are burning on the parched lips of...
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Part adventure memoir. Part love story. Thoroughly sexy. Click image to preview and buy.