Saturday, 30 June 2018

The future of smut

Some of you might remember me way back on social media saying that I hoped to edit an anthology sometime soon. Well, it wasn't "soon" but it IS going to happen - I haz official dates!

I'm delighted to confirm that I'll be editing a new anthology of erotic fiction for Sexy Little Pages, and the call for submissions will go out on the 17th September and close on the 19th November 2018. I can't give away any more details yet, but it's going to be darkish and there will be lots of room for SF and Fantasy elements if that's your writing preference 😍 So writers, be ready!

This is the first volume I'll have edited since the collectors' limited edition Geek Love and I'm looking forward to it SO much! In line with new SLP processes (of which I totally approve), submissions will be read blind, so even if this is your first story you'll be judged on a parity with established authors.

If your typing fingers are already too itchy to sit still, SLP have just launched a call for submissions for the first in this current tranche of anthologies - Rule 34 Vol.2 , edited by Zak Jane Kier.You've time to write for both! Go you!

Wednesday, 27 June 2018

Have visa, will travel

Guess where I'm heading off this year? 😃
Our travel visas have come through, so now I'm officially allowed to get excited and buy new trousers...

I wonder if I'll write a book based on this one?

Monday, 25 June 2018

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a sexy excerpt for your entertainment!

My current writing research has led me down the rabbit hole that is Near Eastern mythology - so here's an excerpt from my novella The House of Dust which is entirely set in bronze-age Mespotamia and centers on a descent into the Land of the Dead by a priestess determined to bring back her murdered lover. In this excerpt Ishara remembers the first time she met King Tamuz - at their ritual Sacred Wedding, when she played the part of the goddess Inanna:

My first good look at Tamuz’s face was as he climbed the steps to the bridal platform. It was a breezy night and the torch flames were flapping and hissing, threatening at every moment to go out, sending shadows dancing all across the great open square. But as he reached the foot of the bed the wind suddenly dropped and everyone, not just the drummers and the timbrel- and the sistrum-players but the whole crowd – the whole city of Uruk from nobility to slaves - gathered on every balcony and roof and step for a good view, fell absolutely silent, holding their breath. Their king and their goddess were bathed in a nimbus of golden light as the torches renewed their vigour; I remember thinking that it was the best of omens. I remember the way his long hair gleamed in oiled ringlets upon his shoulders. He wore no crown that night of course; he approached the goddess Inanna in humility, as a mortal man, though his cloak was of the finest, most heavily worked embroidery. The bed beneath my bare feet was spread with sheepskins to represent his status as the shepherd of the people, to represent the flocks and herds of Uruk whose fecundity for the coming year depended upon the heat of our passion. Over the fleeces were strewn seeds of flax and lettuce and barley, which could not germinate unless quickened by our desire.

I remember how he paused to look me over. It was the lift of his eyebrows, the slow, appreciative grin - so entirely unexpected - the unmasked and unforced pleasure in his eyes that somehow invited me to reciprocate: those were the things that lit the flame in my belly. There’d never been any question that the goddess would move in me; my body was trained to be her vessel. But I’d never expected my heart to jump like that.

Clearly, so that all could hear, we spoke the ritual verses. Then he slipped off his long cloak and he was naked beneath it, naked and muscular and golden under the torchlight except for the dark hair at his groin, black and oiled like his beard, and his duskier phallus already heavy and pendent with anticipation.

My honey-man, My honey-man sweetens me always,
He is the one I love, sang the women.

Tamuz took me without hurry into his arms, drawing off my fragile nuptial gown and caressing me tenderly. ‘Oh … my holy jewel,’ he murmured as his lips stooped to my breasts and grazed my nipples. ‘Oh my wondrous Inanna.’ The words were as familiar as my own heartbeat, but for the first time I heard them as if they truly meant for me. In those moments Inanna did not simply fill and inhabit me; I felt as if I was really her; the goddess who moved the world to love. We spoke the verses as our hands moved to explore and arouse one another, skin on oiled skin, everything smooth and slippery. His phallus was soon as hard as huluppu-wood under my fingers. And there in front of all the people, on that bed smelling of fleece and cedar oil and scented resins, he covered me and entered me and moved upon me with sweet unhurried joy, his fullness my delight.

That was the first time. Afterwards we attended the wedding feast in the palace and I sat regally clad beside him upon his throne, as all the luxury of Uruk was laid before us in a feast of roasted meats from the fields and the steppes and the far mountains, fish drawn from the Two Rivers, almonds and dates and honey and cheeses and soft bread, wine and beer both dark and light. Musicians played their stringed instruments and sang for us and dancers displayed their lithe and naked bodies up and down the room, the whole assembly loud and relaxed and joyous. As the night wore on many guests slipped away to couple in the shadows behind pillars; such things were expected on this night. The harsh hungry days were over, the parched fields would soon be green again, the thin herds fat, the ewes giving milk as they dropped their lambs. Soon the god Enlil would unleash the Two Rivers from their sources in the distant mountains and their flooding would fill the canals and ditches that would water our fields all year. The king had wed the goddess and her blessings would shower upon his land. And I sat in the middle of it all, the radiant ornament of the assembly, the toast of the land of Sumer, my fingers twined with his. They sang in celebration and in praise and I accepted it as the goddess’ due, all night until dawn, and then I went to greet myself, the Morning Star, shining upon the horizon.

There on the balcony Tamuz found me in prayer, my hands raised to the heavens. Softly he dismissed the company and came up behind me. I faltered in my words as he slipped his hands about my upper body, cupping my breasts as he pressed up against me.

‘Don’t stop,’ he murmured, kissing my neck. Such informality was permitted during the time of the Great Marriage, so I carried on praying while he rolled my nipples to points of exquisite frustration between his fingers and bit softly at my ears, tugging at the clusters of golden balls strung from my pierced lobes. I made it to the last verse in a stumbling rush, my spine arched so as to press my shoulders and my buttocks back against the hard wall of his body. I could feel little bolts of lightning chasing across my breasts and down to the wellspring of my sex, as if great Enlil himself were playing with my nipples. When Tamuz laid a firm hand upon my navel and slid it down to cup my pubic mound I gasped out loud. I wanted so much for him to set me face down over that low wall and root me there high above the flat roofs of Uruk, now touched with faintest pink from the approaching sunrise, so that I might encompass the whole of my realm with my eyes as he filled me, so that Utu the shining sun might blind me with his glory as I was made incandescent from behind and within. But Tamuz turned me instead and sat me upon the edge of the wall, lifting my skirts over my knees to reveal my smooth thighs and sliding his hands up their inner surfaces, all the way to the mound of my delta. I put my arms around his neck and drew him closer, my legs encompassing his. Gently, with the tips of his fingers, he stroked my purse until he broke the fragile seal of flesh and let the moisture within seep out.

‘Daughter of the Moon,’ he whispered, his eyes shining; ‘we’ve hardly met and yet I have wounded you sorely.’

‘You did,’ I breathed. ‘The pain is unbearable. My whole body cries out.’

‘Forgive me. I thought you might be healed by now.’ He circled the pomegranate-pip of my clitoris expertly, making me shudder. I dug my nails into his skin.

‘This is a wound that can’t be healed. You hurt me too deeply and now I must live with it forever.’

‘Can I make reparation?’

You might, if you are brave.’
His fingers were slippery now to the root, moving slickly in and upon my sex, stirring me beyond endurance. ‘And how shall I do that?’

‘You must staunch the wound,’ I said, parting the layers of his long kilt to reveal the length of his prick, the skin already taut and glistening; ‘with the weapon that made it.’ I took hold, and Tamuz’s expression made it clear I had his undivided attention. ‘It’s an ancient magic,’ I confided, my eyes wide and serious. ‘Only by wounding me again can you ease me of my pain.’

‘Then,’ he said, his voice hoarse, ‘I see you’re skilled in the magical art.’

My hand was working his copper to harder bronze. ‘Oh yes, my King.’

‘And it is my duty to help you.’ With infinite care, both of us breathing shallow and quick, he nudged into me, sheathing perhaps two-thirds of his length. The wall held me at just the right height for him.

‘Don’t let me fall,’ I whispered.

His arm tightened about my waist. ‘Never.’ And as he pressed into me with long firm thrusts, taking his time, I gave myself up to his arms and his lips, letting my head fall back until I hung over the dizzying drop and the city below. The stars were fading overhead into a pale and cloudless sky but within me whole new constellations were exploding into birth.

Buy Magic and Desire at:
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Google Play
Apple iTunes

Friday, 22 June 2018

Charity horror raffle TONIGHT

The charity horror anthology Her Dark Voice #2 has been re-titled Dark Voices, and is to be launched at Edgelit 2018 next month. In the run-up we have having a charity raffle tonight on Facebook from 7pm BST, to raise money and awareness. There are a bunch of prizes (autographs, books etc) and every time you make a donation (to Breast Cancer Now) counts as a ticket in the draw.

DARK VOICES -- A Lycan Valley Charity Anthology for Breast Cancer ... Coming July 2018!

INTRODUCTION — Theresa Derwin
BASEMENT — Michelle Scalise-Piccirilli
SMILEY ROACHES — Linda D Addison
HOW IT DIED — Sara Dobie Bauer
JUST BELOW OUR FEET — Charlotte Bond
CUE: CHANGE — Chesya Burke
BEAR WITH ME — Lynn M Cochrane Lynn Edwards
TELL ME HOW YOU DIE — Amber Fallon
STUCK RECORD — Charlie Hannah
THE FARM — Penny Jones
BOBBI — Calypso Kane
YOU’RE LATE — Kitty Kane
PTICHKA — Laura Mauro
HAUNTED — Helen Mihajlovic
THE UNEASY DEAD — Billie Sue Mosiman and Franklin E. Wales
THE REAL ME — Marie O'Regan
THE URN — Hayley Orgill
RETURN TO ME — EF Schraeder
EMILY — Kristal Stittle
ROCK-A-BYE — Angeline Trevena
LOVING ROSE — Nemma Wollenfang
NIGHT’S IVY — Mercedes Murdock Yardley
WRAPPED IN BATTLE — Erin Sweet-Al Mehairi

For the raffle I'm donating this VERY limited edition chapbook, a dark fantasy co-written by myself and Adrian Tchaikovsky (author of the Shadows of the Apt series among many others, winner of the Arthur C Clarke Award for his SF novel Children of Time).  We've both signed it of course! And it has the bonus of illustrations by Vincent Sammy.

The story is set in the town of Reading. Oh how we love a good pun!
So please do come and join us HERE tonight - if you need a FB invitation, just PM me on my Facebook Page.

Wednesday, 20 June 2018

Game on!

I've been a bit quiet on the writing front for the last six months for various reasons. First there was the house-move (which took WAY more time and effort than I'd anticipated). Alongside that came a bunch of bad family stuff which had to be dealt with. But it's mostly done and dusted now. So am I ready to get back to writing smut?


As of this week, my writing has taken a somewhat unexpected detour, as I have not one but TWO new projects to tackle, and neither of them are erotica! I will be writing a horror scenario for The Cthulhu Hack over the next month or so. And when I've done that I'm hopefully going to be involved in writing for a rebooted classic games system that's going to Kickstarter - more details when it's officially revealed and confirmed.

So I am going to be WAY busy! It'll be a big change from writing erotica and hopefully a chance to stretch my horror muscles.

Of course there are still things of smutty goodness gestating as we speak. I've got two stories coming to publication via Rose Caraway, one of which, Yan Tan Tethera Methera, is large and scary enough to blow just about anybody's mind - I'm very excited about that!

But forgive me, please, if I seem a little more distracted than usual. I'm going out into the dark and I may be some time...

Monday, 18 June 2018

Blue Monday: Ellie Barker guests

Every Monday I post a sexy excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's snippet is from a stablemate at Sinful Press - Ellie Barker's new LGBT crime series, Undercover Lovers, kicks off with Secrets and Spies.

"Starting life as Miss Blue Hair, a short piece from Sinful Press’s Sinful Pleasures anthology, Secrets and Spies follows the story of Nikolas, a bisexual police mole, and Sky, a transgender thief, as they work to infiltrate the local crime syndicate. Ellie Barker has created a fast paced and highly entertaining trilogy, with a diverse range of characters, various sexual encounters, and unconventional romance. In Bed with the Enemy and For Queen and Country, the remaining books in the trilogy, are due for release on June 15th and July 13th respectively."

When Nikolas Jinsen, police mole, meets an unusual woman named Sky, he thinks he's just in for a night of pleasure. But he's soon pulled into a world of mafia dealings, stolen documents, hacked computers and kidnappings - not to mention a woman with a taste for exhibition, a Queen who demands payment in pleasure, and Sky herself; unusual, intoxicating, and wanting more than Nikolas may be willing to give.

She’d undressed, and I was admiring her from behind, enjoying the faint curve of her hips and her definitely gropeable buttocks...I might have tested that on the way home. But it was as she stepped back and raised her arms above her head, lifting her bright blue hair, that I realised I’d seen her before.

She’d had shorter hair, then, as black as night. She’d been dressed in practical trousers and a t-shirt, and carrying a bag full of tools; an electrician’s apprentice, fixing lights in an office building. They’d been in and out before anyone had realised some rather valuable documents had been copied and somehow removed from the building despite the security.

I’d idly wondered if the maintenance crew I’d walked past had been involved. After all, it wasn’t a dissimilar cover to one that I’d occasionally employed for jobs...

Sky. Thief, seductress, gambler and heartbreaker. This slim, dark-eyed thing in my bed was that legend.

Well, I can’t refuse a chance to fuck a legend. I’d just have to discuss her previous activities with her when we’d finished this business.

That train of thought came to a very nice conclusion as she turned to me, lifting her arms and stretching, taking my open mouth and caught breath as appreciation. “Lost for words?”

I managed a smile. “I’ve never been one for talking when I could express my appreciation in...other ways.”

She fitted perfectly across my hips, her strong legs pressing on my thighs. I felt her cock slide against my stomach, leaving a wet trail in contrast to the warmth of the smooth skin. Her mouth pressed onto mine as I pulled her closer, and we spent a while like that, chests pushed together and skin sliding as my hands explored her body and her tongue teased mine, her long fingers winding into my hair.

“All right, enough,” I said when it got too distracting, pushing her shoulders back a little to get some distance. “I want in you.”

Buy Secrets and Spies at Amazon

Ellie Barker mostly writes short'n'dirty flash fiction and short erotic fiction in any genre going. She prefers vampires over werewolves, and is always hot for a rainy night.

You can find out more about Ellie over at her website, or follow her on Twitter as @EllieBa3

Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

Wednesday, 13 June 2018


Seriously, who doesn't love an ironic cheese-and-pineapple hedgehog?

Monday, 11 June 2018

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a sexy excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's piece is from After the Party, which appeared in Nexus Confessions #4. These "confessions" were anonymous contemporary stories, usually much shorter than those that appeared for sister-imprint Black Lace, and were supposed to be plainly-written and plausible reader's-wives-style sexual encounters. For this particular one I actually drew on an anecdote a friend had told me... so yes, it did happen!

I didn’t last long that night. I’d pulled a horrible series of shifts that week and I was more exhausted than drunk when I decided to call it a night. Most guests were going home but others were staying for the long haul and crashing wherever there was room. Because I gave in quite early I got the pick of the mattresses, so I ended up kicking off my shoes and crawling under the duvet in the spare bedroom. It was a double bed but I didn’t take up much of it.

I woke up when someone got into the bed beside me. It didn’t occur to me to be worried, just irritated at having been disturbed.

‘It’s all right; she’s asleep!’ That was in a loud whisper, followed by a giggle.

So there were two of them. Lying on my back, I kept my eyes shut and waited for them to settle down so I could drift back off. No chance of that happening, though. It quickly became obvious that they hadn’t come to bed to sleep. I could smell beer and perfume and a male body. I could hear wet kisses and breathy little mutters of appreciation.

Bloody hell. They were going to fuck right next to me. I had to hold back a snort. I mean it was funny, I guess, but it was a bit awkward for me. What was I supposed to do – just pretend politely to be asleep?



‘Let’s do it.’

There was shuffling, the mattress heaved, I heard a soft slap and the clink of a belt being undone. The duvet was pulled right off me. If they thought they were being subtle they must be really drunk. Murmurs of ‘Oh yes,’ and ‘That’s good, baby,’ made me clench my teeth. I was exasperated but curious, itching to see what was going on.

In the end I just opened my eyes. I didn’t say anything or make a fuss. I figured they weren’t the shy type. In fact they didn’t even see me looking, because they were too busy. He was lying on his back alongside me. And Lena – I hadn’t recognised her voice, but it was her there in the dim light – was crouched low over him, eyes rapturously closed, sucking his cock.

He had a big meaty cock. Even in that light I could see it glisten with her saliva as she slid those pouty lips up and down his shaft. He rumbled with pleasure deep in his chest. She parted her lips to reveal the fat helmet and swirled her tongue lovingly around it like she was lapping ice-cream. Then she dived, taking his length right down her throat as her nose brushed his thick pubic hair.

I was holding my breath just as she must be. I could feel the stir of hot interest in my own body. My arm could have stretched out and touched his where he lay next to me. This was horny as hell, watching her give him head so close by, unaware that I was watching. I wondered what he tasted like between those glossy lips. I wondered how hot his cock was. I wondered what it felt like to have Lena’s mouth sucking and kissing and slurping as it did.

But she got bored of being the one doing all the work. Pulling her mouth away, she pumped him in her hand a couple of times. His prick lolled about, thick but not particularly stiff it seemed to me. Then she rose up and straddled him, lifting her skirt up her round thighs to slide his cock into her pussy. I could actually hear the wet noise it made as she positioned it. She must have been ready for him.

Sitting up, it was obvious that he’d been playing with her boobs. Her blouse was unbuttoned, her big tits already pulled free of their bra cups to bounce as she rode him, her nipples poking out fat and juicy. She shook back her hair and grabbed his hand to place it on her muff as she rose and fell on him. His hand stirred lazily, then fell away. She twisted her hips, trying to work him in deeper.

Then I heard it.

He snored.

Lena stopped gyrating and glared down at her man. I could see the frustration on her face. She slapped his ribs, loudly, and pinched him.

He snored again, on a deeper note.

‘Bastard!’ she whispered, agonised.

Then she noticed me watching. Her dark eyes were completely black in the dim light. She leaned forward on her fists, bending over me. I could smell the spice of her pussy juices. I didn’t know what to say so I just lay there.

She put her hand lightly on my thigh, and stroked my sex-lips through my clothes.

Buy Nexus Confession Vol.4 at:

Amazon US
Amazon UK
Google Play

Friday, 8 June 2018

Tackling Taqla

Eugène Girardet (1853-1907): Bedouins in the Desert

Lea Bronsen's contemporary Arabian Desert adventure, A Thorned Rose in the Sand, was featured in a Blue Monday here a few weeks back - and now I'm over at her blog because we share a love for writing about that setting.

I'm interviewing Taqla, the main heroine of my magical romance novel Heart of Flame - so grab your flying carpet and zoom over to Lea's place to hear what my prickly sorceress has to say for herself 💓

"The most beautiful woman in all Arabia has been abducted by a djinni - and only forbidden magic can bring about her rescue.

Taqla the sorceress lives in comfortable secrecy, until she agrees to help the handsome traveller Rafiq find the kidnapped daughter of the Amir. They set off together on a journey fraught with magic and peril, though a landscape of ancient desert ruins, terrible monsters and deception. With so many secrets to keep, Taqla cannot afford to trust Rafiq – and yet she must, with her life."

Monday, 4 June 2018

Blue Monday: Sherry Perkins guests

Every Monday I post a sexy excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest is Sherry Perkins with her paranormal romance novel At the End of the Rainbow:

Morgan Patterson came to Northern Ireland for her senior college year abroad to focus on her studies far away from family drama. But she’s quickly distracted by a hunk of a police sergeant named Tiernan Doherty. Though he’s old enough to be her da, as her new friends are quick to point out, she fancies him. And he certainly seems to be obsessed with her.

Eagerly going against all good advice, Morgan becomes more and more bound to Tiernan—by ties of lust and love and protection, and maybe even duty. But there is more to their attraction than Morgan can explain with her science textbooks, and more is going on in this sleepy village than she could ever have imagined.

She was once so sure that faerie stories were fiction. But there’s no denying the strange visions and dreams she’s been experiencing again since coming to this place. So many of the people she’s met—both those looking out for her welfare and those seeking to destroy her—seem to feel she is a special one, with powers that are only now coming fully into her possession. Will she finally begin to understand that herself before it’s too late?

His voice tickled her skin, and what he was whispering was somewhere between divine and orgasmic but much nearer to orgasmic. “Would you do that for me?” she whispered back, giggling. “Would you do it for me now?”

He didn’t answer her. He didn’t say nary a word, but he grinned. Then he began doing what he had whispered he would do to her, and that…that was orgasmic.

Afterward, lying together on the bed, Morgan felt what she expected was love. But since she had never been in love before, she wasn’t entirely certain. She felt…what? Safe. She felt safe in Tiernan’s arms. That was what she had been trying to tell Tiernan when he had whispered those things into her ear and distracted her from telling him what she was thinking.

Meanwhile, Tiernan nuzzled contentedly at the back of Morgan’s neck. His face was buried in her hair as they lay there together spooning, her big, warm arse nestled against him. Lying there together, he thought they fit together like…what? They fit together like a hand in a glove. Like a key in a lock. Tiernan smiled. They fit together like a man and a woman.

“Morgan, why did you call me here?” he asked, his mouth tickling the sensitive skin behind her ear. She responded by curling forward, pushing her arse on him and rubbing against him.

“Luv”—he laughed, his desire for her growing and quickly becoming apparent—“why did you call me here earlier?”

She turned around to face Tiernan. She looked into his eyes and made a low, throaty sound.

Morgan made the same sound again and slid her body slowly down over his belly. Her fingers touched the dark hairs that ran in a line from his umbilicus to the triangle of his pubic hair, a line of coarse hair that she called his happy trail. He watched her fingers touching him, and they made him very, very happy, but not nearly as happy as when she touched him with her mouth. Tiernan watched her and her mouth on him, and then he put his hands on the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair.

“Luv, why did you call me here?” he asked again, but she was doing something brilliant with her mouth and tongue. He very nearly came all over her face. To keep from doing exactly that, he grabbed at her, pulling her up by her hair.

He pulled her toward him so she was kneeling above him, her knees on either side of his hips. They were face to face. He looked into her eyes and said, “Why?”

Morgan didn’t answer him. She was thinking that Tiernan had a peculiar way of questioning her. Not that she didn’t like his interrogation methods, what with all that sweet sexual torture in between the interrogatives. She leaned forward and kissed him.

Not surprisingly, her mouth tasted like him. He took his hands out of her hair and put them on her waist. He positioned her where he wanted her. As she eased down onto him, he shifted his hands to grab at her arse cheeks. Her muscles tensed around him.

He grinned stupidly at her and said, “Tell me why. Why did you call me here, girl?”

Morgan arched her back and rode him. She supported herself against him, putting her hands palm down on his chest. She moved her pelvis against him while sliding herself from side to side and squeezing herself tighter with each smooth, sinuous movement. Her long hair fell around her face. She said, “I called you here because I need to know something.”

“Know what?” he asked, looking up from her hips and what she was doing to him. “Know that I cannot lie to you,” he said. “And I would never hurt you.”

“I know that,” Morgan said, her voice heavy with an emotion he had some difficulty identifying. She closed her eyes and moaned. Suddenly it didn’t seem so important to ask him about the marks on his back. The ones she had not put there. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me. I would bet my life on it,” she added softly, more to herself than to him.

“Do you?” he asked. “Do you really know that? Because I cannot lie to you, and I would never hurt you. Ask me, luv. Ask me what it is that you want to know.”

“I want to know…” She spoke slowly and with deliberation. “I want to know…I want you to tell me that you love me.”

“Love you? Bollocks. That’s not what you want to know,” Tiernan said, but it was true. He did love her whether he could say it out loud or not. However, showing her that he loved her, as he had said—that was a different matter altogether. Nonetheless, he was relatively sure that wasn’t what she was going to ask—she had been ready to ask him about the marks on his back. He was glad she hadn’t. Because he would rather die than break her heart with an explanation.

Buy At the End of the Rainbow at:
Amazon US
Amazon UK

Sherry Perkins has worked as a licensed practical nurse for more than thirty-five years and has experience in psychiatric/addictions nursing, nursing-care coordination, and risk management. She earned a BS in health sciences from Campbell University in Buies Creek, North Carolina, and has spoken at public health functions on topics such as addiction prevention and treatment, prevention of teenage opioid deaths, and connecting patients who are resistant to treatment with appropriate services.

A mother of four, Perkins lives with extended family on the Delmarva Peninsula, where she enjoys collecting shells and sea glass; reading mysteries, science fiction, and fantasy; doing organic gardening; and following the Dave Matthews Band around the East Coast. At the End of the Rainbow is the first in a series of books inspired by a visit to Northern Ireland and a yearning to return there one day.

Amazon Author Page

Sunday, 3 June 2018

My babies!

The trees I planted back in March have survived and are GROWING!

The oaks are going by far and away the best:

The hornbeams are tiny, and the beech are getting chewed by some insect. But at least we beat the deer this winter!