George Pappas – Monogamy Sucks

Title: Monogamy Sucks

Author:  George Pappas

ISBN: 9781612580050

Page count: 411

Genre: Erotica

Price: 5.99


Author Bio:

George Pappas is a Los Angeles-based novelist, blogger, poet and lyricist. Lazy Day Publishing released his second novel of erotic fiction Monogamy Sucks as an e-book in December 2010. Pappas launched the first six chapters of his novel on his blog in summer 2010 after more than 12 years of writing and researching his work. His novel explores intriguing notions about monogamy, relationships, casual sex and the swinging lifestyle.


Tell us about your book:

My most recent book is erotic fiction novel Monogamy Sucks, which was published as e-book by digital publisher Lazy Day Publishing in December 2010. My novel is an unconventional exploration of a Long Beach, Calif. man’s mid-thirties lust crisis and his ensuing bizarre, but intriguing, humorous journey into the swinging lifestyle. I call it real life erotica or reality fiction. The story is told in the form of a fictional diary by the book’s protagonist Jake Dalmas, who is looking for answers to deal with his growing disillusionment with conventional relationships and monogamy. Along the way, he discovers some misconceptions about swingers and new aspects about himself. It is frank, funny and above all – painfully honest.


How long did it take to write the book?

It took more than 12 years. I finally decided to post some of my book on my blog and two months later I received a book deal.


What inspired you to write the book?

The inspiration for my novel Monogamy Sucks started with my own mid-thirties lust crisis in the mid to late 1990s. I was fed up with monogamy and conventional relationships and longed for something new. My curiosity led me on a journey into the swinging lifestyle, which my book is loosely based on. I felt compelled to write a story about subjects I didn’t see being discussed in society — troubles many of us have with monogamy and relationships, and the swinging lifestyle.

I wasn’t intending to write a book initially, but when I told some close friends my stories, they encouraged me to turn into a novel.


Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve?

I didn’t really have a writing routine for this novel. I experimented a lot with the writing process while writing Monogamy Sucks. Sometimes I dictated chapters into a small tape recorder and later transcribed them into my computer. Other times I wrote out the chapters on letter pads. That is typically my writing process of choice — writing a chapter out by hand and then later typing it into my computer.

I always write a first draft of my novels without going back and editing it. I want to get down as much as my original vision for the chapter and my book as I can. The real work is the later drafts.

I knew nothing about the swinging lifestyle before I wrote my book so a lot of my research came out of my own experiences and from the stories of those that I met in the lifestyle.


What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?

I hope you’re readers will take a chance and read my provocative novel Monogamy Sucks, and won’t be put off by the controversial content. It really is like no other novel they have read.  However, my book has some relevant and interesting things to say about sex, relationships and monogamy, and is an intriguing exploration of the male sexual mind. I think my novel appeals to both sexes, but it really seems to have struck a chord among women, which was unexpected. Yes, my book is explicit, but I believe its themes are more universal than one might think.


Where can we go to buy your book?

My book is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other e-book retailing sites.


Any other links or info you’d like to share?







Excerpt from book:



February 17

For these past few weeks, I have felt another pussy fever coming on. I am in need of some hot sex soon and even considered leaving Pam another voice mail message tonight. She hasn’t returned several of my messages and I doubt if she ever will. I used to go a month without pussy without a problem. Now, a month seems like an eternity to me. At times like these, I wonder if I’ll ever get laid again.

A woman named Kate finally came to my horny rescue leaving me a message on my voice mail today.

“Hi…this is Kate,” she said. “Just wanted to know if you were free tonight. Liked your ad. Call me at 555-422-7892.”

No mention of sex, but my ad did call for horny women after all. She was calling for sex whether she wanted to say it outright or not.

When we talked on the phone a couple hours later, Kate told me she was an artist, which intrigued me even more. She invited me to come visit her later that night at her apartment located in West Los Angeles.

I was surprised by her appearance when we met. She is a tall attractive woman in her early thirties with striking red hair and sensual green eyes. Her face was covered in freckles, which turned me on even more. However, I couldn’t tell much about her body as she wore a long green dress that hid everything.

I was somewhat in awe of her sexy appearance as I sat next to her on a long green sofa in her dark apartment. She could pick up a man in any bar in L.A. for sex. Not that I was complaining or anything. I was just very curious.

As we engaged in the typical date small talk banter, I tried to concentrate on what she was saying but her beauty mesmerized me. From what little I could gather, Kate said she worked as a graphic artist to make ends meet so she could pursue her artistic aspirations as a painter. She added that she is divorced with a 6-year-old son that lives with his father, but that her son was moving back in with her at the end of the month.

“I need to have as much fun as I can before then,” Kate said.

I asked if she dated a lot.

Kate shook her head and said, “Too much. Sometimes I just want to have sex without a lot of drama,” she continued, smiling shyly. “I don’t always want to go through all the trouble of getting to know someone, but that is not an easy thing for me to admit to. I am not usually this aggressive, but I saw your ad and it interested me.”

Kate smiled and looked at me for a moment before turning away. Her green eyes hinted at what I could only imagine. I started to get the nervous and excited feeling I always get before sex.

Worries raced through my mind. Was I fooling myself again? What if the chemistry was only in my head and she didn’t share my sexual needs? It is a long ride home back to Long Beach. I fought against my despair.

Then the inevitable fuck date question I dreaded, “Have you had a lot of responses to your ad?”

I thought it best to lie. I didn’t want her to think she was just another fuck date. I wanted her to feel she was special even if it was a lie.

“No, you’re the first. I had some other calls but they flaked out.”

Then she asked me what I wanted to do. I was so tempted to say that I wanted to fuck her every which way until she couldn’t take it anymore, but I didn’t want to scare her off before we reached the bedroom.

This is an awkward moment for me even during regular dating. How to turn a supposedly innocent conversation into actual sex? If my response is overly sexual, I might lose my chance. If my response were too weak or nice, she would probably think I wasn’t interested and only wanted to be friends. Anything but that. So I wimped out and put the ball back into her court.

“Whatever you want to…” I replied.

Kate stood up abruptly and said, “All right…let’s go to my bedroom.”


David Gaughran – If You Go Into The Woods

Title: If You Go Into The Woods

Author: David Gaughran

ISBN: n/a (ASIN = B004YTI01Y)

Page count: 16

Genre: Short Stories – Quirky/Offbeat/Slipstream

Price: 99 cent


Author Bio:

David Gaughran is a 33-year old Irish writer, living in Sweden, who spends most of his time travelling the world, collecting stories, and writing about them. He blogs about writing, the book business, and how to get your own work into (digital) print on his website.


Tell us about your book:

If You Go Into The Woods is a collection of two creepy tales from a world that’s not quite right. The title story is about eight-year old Jiri Beranek who is drawn to a nearby forest, captivated by birds hidden high in the trees. Each time he enters, his desire to see the mysterious creatures is checked by his fear of the dark. When he finally forces himself to go farther, he finds a new reason to be afraid. This story was first published by The Delinquent (UK) then selected by Short Story America for inclusion in their anthology of their best stories of 2010.

The bonus story, The Reset Button, is new, exclusively available in this e-book. Linus Eriksson, a divorced bachelor living alone in his small one-bedroom apartment, is a man with a memory problem: instead of not being able to remember anyone, nobody can remember him.

These two short stories have a combined length of 4,000 words, or around 16 book pages.


How long did it take to write the book?

The second story was written in a few hours, but revising it took a lot longer than that. The first was trickier, and took maybe three days, plus revision.


What inspired you to write the book?

The second story in my collection was written just after I moved to Stockholm, in the depths of winter last year. I guess I was struggling to learn the language and to make friends, and was finding the dark days a little too much. The first story was something I actually wanted to do in real life, but it would have been too expensive. That’s the beauty of fiction; you can live out your dreams. I’ve already achieved one already.


Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve?

I try and write 1,000 words a day, but I don’t always succeed, especially around the launch of a book. The key is to force yourself to sit down and work, even when you don’t want to. You might start off with three pages of rubbish, but eventually the good stuff comes. I have to do a lot of research for my historical novels, so short stories are a kind of break from that, but I always make sure to set them somewhere I have been, and then I can remind myself of the rest from the internet.


What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?

A feeling of unease, of lives slightly out of control, of something strange going on that you can’t quite put your finger on that has an unsettling effect.


Where can we go to buy your book?




Any other links or info you’d like to share?
I blog most days at


Excerpt from book:

If You Go Into The Woods

Jiři Beranek was the kind of boy who was always in trouble; in fact, the people of Časlav expected him to be in trouble. That’s what happens to a boy without a father, the old men would say, watching Jiři annoy a dog with a stick, or kick a broken bottle down the street, or climb a neighbor’s tree to steal some cherries. Most eight-year-old boys were forgiven such behavior, but because Jiři’s mother was raising him on her own every action of their small family was weighed, magnified, and judged.

Jiři wasn’t a bad child. He was precocious and mischievous, with a worrying sadistic streak towards animals and broken bottles, but he also had a tender side that only his mother saw. He didn’t have any real friends, not since Miroslav’s father moved his family to Kolín. It was only twenty kilometers away, but, to an eight-year-old, Miroslav might as well have moved to the Moon. So Jiři spent most of his time outside of school on his own, chasing crickets, throwing stones at owls, burning ants with a magnifying glass, and wondering why his mother cried herself to sleep every night.

In the summers, it got worse. Jiři only asked his mother about it once, but this proved to be a mistake. She closed her eyes for a long time and Jiři was sure she was going to cry. Opening her eyes again, she put her teacup down. Then, she beckoned him and hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe. It scared him. That night the crying was louder than ever. He never asked her about it again.


During the long summer days, when there was no school to worry about, Jiři spent as much time out of the house as possible, busying himself with exploring construction sites, spying on the man with a limp who talked to himself, and looking for buried treasure in the forest two blocks from his house.

The forest stretched all the way around one side of the lake that divided Časlav, and was a wonderland for a growing boy. It had insects and weird plants, a reservoir and a running track, a football stadium on the edge, and the tallest trees Jiři had ever seen. The only bad thing about the forest was that the trees were too big to climb—they had wide trunks and no reachable branches, and it was hard to get any grip on the smooth, oily bark.

There were only a couple of different trails through the forest and Jiři didn’t like to wander too far from them. The foliage from the tall trees knitted together into a canopy, preventing all but the most persistent beams of light from passing through. Even on a bright summer’s day it was dark, and Jiři didn’t like the funny feeling it gave him in his stomach. It made him scared. But he had a suspicion there was something interesting in there; however, each time he went into the forest, and tried to go deeper, he would panic and bolt for the trail, ending up panting on the grass outside, furious with himself.

He kept returning to the forest, captivated by the birds. From the trail, he could hear their faint chirps, but as he got further into the darkness the chirping got louder. Jiři wondered why they weren’t afraid of the dark like him. Maybe, he thought, they were afraid of people more.


His mother was chiding him one evening for coming home too late—listing all the evils that can befall a small boy when the sun goes down—when it came to him: a plan. If the world is at its most dangerous at night, he thought, surely it is safest in the early morning, and this would be the best time to explore the forest and not feel scared.

With the courage of confidence, Jiři wolfed down his breakfast, kissed his mother on the cheek—trying not to think about her puffy, bloodshot eyes and shaking hands—and hurried to the forest.

He stopped running at the edge of the trees and walked slowly along the trail, catching his breath, listening out for the birds.


He stopped and took a couple of steps off the path.


He walked towards the noise.


He told himself he wasn’t scared.


The sound was getting louder.


The funny feeling was there in his stomach, but he tried to ignore it.


He waited for a moment to see if he was going in the right direction.


It was right above him. He didn’t feel as scared now. If there were something bad here, the bird would have flown away. Jiři cleared a space on the ground and leaned his back against the trunk. Each time the bird chirped, it made him feel less scared. He sat like this for a long time.

When his legs got sleepy, Jiři stood to shake them. Circling the tree, trying to see if there was any way to climb up, he was overcome with a desire to see one of the birds that had been slowly teasing him off the path, but the branches were too high and there was no place to get a foothold on the even trunk. He tried to think, once again looking up at the tree and the source of the birdsong. Higher up, he could see that the branches of the other trees intertwined. He walked around the neighboring trunks to see if he was able to climb any of those.

Then he tripped.




Author:  Caroline Clemmons

Genre: historical romance

Price: $3.99


Author Bio:

As long as I can remember, I’ve made up adventures. Okay, I admit the early creative stories featured me riding the range with Roy Rogers and Dale Evans and saving the West. What a disappointment to learn that Roy was exclusively committed to Dale! Eventually, my best friend from across the street and I decided to become better detectives than Nancy Drew. We drove our parents and neighbors crazy sticking our pert little noses where they didn’t belong. About that time I started writing down my adventures, but mostly I was a reader. Not until I read Nora Roberts’ early novels did I decide to create my own romance manuscripts. My road to publishing was a lot slower than Nora’s was. No surprise there! I still read Nora’s books—as well as those of countless other authors—but now I write full time. Unless life interferes, that is.

My Hero and I live one a small acreage in the ranching and horse country of North Central Texas. Our two daughters are grown and living with Hero and me now are Webster, our sweet black Shih Tzu, and our two shorthaired cats: Sebastian, a large black and white tuxedo who thinks he’s our watchcat; and Bailey Erin, a shy apricot tabby. When I’m not writing, I love spending time with family, reading, traveling with Hero, browsing antique malls, and digging into family history and genealogy. Writing about strong heroes and heroines who overcome amazing obstacles to forge a meaningful life together is my passion.


Tell us about your book:

Wanted: One completely improper bride. Even if Drake Kincaid had placed such an advertisement in every paper in the country, he couldn’t have found a better candidate than Pearl Parker–which is fine with him. After all, his parents’ will stipulates only that he marry by his thirtieth birthday, not that he marry well. And no one–including Drake’s grandfather, the man determined to hold him to the ridiculous provision–could possibly think tall, bossy Pearl with her ragtag siblings and questionable “cousin” Belle will make a good wife. Until Drake realizes that in her startling violet eyes he sees a beautiful woman with a generous soul. . .

Their life together may not have started with hearts and flowers, but Drake and Pearl will soon learn that real love–with a breathtaking dose of passion–will make their marriage a true romance.


How long did it take to write the book?

a year


What inspired you to write the book?

A snippet of a story my grandmother told me about a girl who grew up in her hometown. The sadness of it struck my heart and I determined to rewrite her story with a happy ending.


Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve?

I write every day.  I did a tremendous amount of research in transportation, dress, customs, and locales. I visited museums, read books, bought books, and searched online. A wealth of information is available, but the author must sort and sift for the perfect details.



What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?

There is so much stress in the world. I hope that while readers are engaged in my book, they forget that stress. I also hope that they come away filled with hope that they also can overcome obstacles to achieve a happily-ever-after.


Where can we go to buy your book?

Amazon Kindle and Smashwords


Any other links or info you’d like to share?
My blog is

My website is

Facebook: Clemmons author

Twitter: CarolinClemmons


Excerpt from book:

“What do you mean, stay here?

Pearl had wakened cocooned in the hazy glow following a night of intermittent lovemaking with her husband to find him dressing for the ranch. Then he dropped a bombshell on her.

“You know it’s not safe for you to be on your own. Ranch is too isolated. You’ll be safer here in town.Drake stomped his feet to settle each in the boots he wore. He retrieved a blue chambray shirt from his bag and donned it.

“For how long?Pearl slid from bed and grabbed her nightgown from the floor.


She whirled on her husband, confronting him, “You never intended for me to move to the ranch, did you?She yanked her nightie on. No one could argue buck-naked.

“Don’t get riled. Women hate the seclusion. You’ll be happier in town. Things to do here and people about you.Drake shoved his shirt into his twill pants without looking at his wife.

She stepped toward him and pointed at her chest. “What do you know about what makes this woman happy?”

A crooked smile broke his face. “Aw, I know what makes you happy, all right. Didn’t I keep you happy all night?”

She shrugged away the comment aimed to distract her. “Did you ask me which I prefer? No.She hoped her glare chilled his randy hide.

His voice softened, placating. “Pearl, be reasonable. We don’t know who’s tried to kill you and your family. Someone might be trailing you right now, waiting somewhere and watching the house.

He met her gaze. That muscle twitched in his cheek, letting her know he was less than happy with this conversation. Well, that didn’t bother Pearl in the least. Some things needed talked about.

He walked over and put his hands on her shoulders, then took a deep breath and continued,  “Look, the sheriff and his deputy as well as several of the town’s leading citizens will be looking out for any newcomer. I talked to the owners of the livery stable, the hotel, the mercantile, all the places I could think of that a newcomer would stand out. If any strangers come around asking questions, the sheriff will find out immediately. You and Sarah will be safer here.”

“You’re taking Storm with you?She hugged her arms, sensing a lost battle.

“Yes, um, with your permission. I can’t see him attending teas or shopping here in town. Besides, he’s a big help to me.”

Her head came up and her hands fisted at her hips. “And I suppose Sarah and I are just so much baggage?”

“Now, I didn’t say that and you know it.He held up a hand, palm out, as if to stay her fury. “But you have no place rounding up cattle and getting ready for a drive.”

“It’s true we don’t ride, but we could learn.She could learn anything, given a chance. She suspected no chance would come.

“There’s no time to teach you. ‘Sides, it makes the cowboys and vaqueros nervous to have women around the cattle. They think it’s bad luck. And I can’t leave the two of you at the house with only the housekeeper to help you.”

She sagged in defeat. “Okay, Drake. I’ll stay here for now, and I’ll try not to shame you. But this is only until we know there’ll be no more meanness against my family. Don’t think you can keep me waiting too long,” she warned.

His face broke into a smile of relief. “You’ll see. By the time this is over and things calm down, you’ll like this sweet life so much you won’t be able to tear yourself away from Grandpa’s house.”

“Too much sweet gives a body a belly ache.”

Ignoring that and stepping close, he kissed her on the cheek then nuzzled her neck. “I’ll be sleeping tonight in a bedroll on hard ground. Give me a kiss to remember.”

Something to remember. She’d give him something to remember all right. She raised her mouth to his, let him plunder with his tongue. Her tongue did some plundering of its own as she moved her body against him. When their kiss ended, the heat of passion darkened his eyes.

“When you’re sleeping on the hard ground, all alone, you remember that, husband.Head high, she turned and walked into the dressing room.