Monday Flash Fiction, Sept. 18


Where the fuck did all these birds come from?

Here I am, trying to have a meditative sulk by the goddamn pond and I can’t even hear myself think.

See, things just aren’t going very well right now. This t-shirt I just bought is way too fucking big, this stupid sweater’s still itchy, and my love life’s in the toilet. At least, I think it is. Actually, I don’t know what it is.

I met this guy the other day. Well, met isn’t the right word. I fucked this guy the other day. This amazing, sexy guy, that I almost fell in love with right then and there while we were doing the dirty, and it was all good, fun and happening.

But he hasn’t replied to my text. Okay, texts. I may have sent him too many texts and now I am freaking the fuck out.

I’m standing at the edge of this goddamn peaceful pond trying to calm myself the fuck down, and this huge flock of crows comes out of nowhere, and I can feel my stress levels going into high gear.

It’s a good thing I have my phone on vibrate because I probably wouldn’t have heard the text notification that just buzzed my ass.

A little flame of hope rises within me as I pull the phone from my pocket and check.

It’s him. He replied. I’m smiling and my heart is joining the cacophony of caws and screeches as I read:

You sent me like a gazillion texts you moron. Next time just call. 

White Balance, Chapter One (September 15th, 2017)




I heard Jeremy’s voice and as usual it lifted something inside me. Something that had lain dormant for years and woken up three years ago when he’d walked into my photo studio.

“Martin? You home?” He said again, and then I heard him bounding up the stairs two at a time.

“In here,” I replied, gazing down at the clothes I’d put out on the bed. I had no idea what to wear. Thank goodness Jeremy was home.

He came into our room and skidded to a halt. You’d never guess he’d needed a cane to walk shortly after I’d met him.

“Hey, guess what?”

He glowed with barely contained excitement as he waited for my answer.

“Um, you found your long lost twin?”

“Eh, no.” He grinned, waiting.

“You finally realized that chocolate is not worth it?”

He looked at me and frowned. “Fuck no.”

“Just tell me. I’ll never guess and you know it.”

His grin returned and he shoved a piece of paper toward me.

I took it from him. “What is this?”

“It’s an invitation to model for Felix Kureck in London, England! He wants me to come to London so he can shoot me.”

I stared at the letter, reading the invitation. I’d heard of the guy of course. Everyone had. He was a famous photographer specializing in artistic photos of sexy men, who had personally requested that Jeremy’s agency send him, all expenses paid, to London England for a photo shoot for Kureck’s upcoming coffee table book, The New Man.

I understood why he was so excited and tried to match it with a similar enthusiasm, even though my stomach sank at the thought of him leaving me for two weeks. We hadn’t been apart for longer than a weekend since we’d met.

“Wow! That’s amazing.”

He sat down on the bed, shaking his head back and forth. “I know, right? I mean, he wants me. Me!”

I looked at Jeremy, once again shocked that this beautiful young man really didn’t appreciate how physically gorgeous he was.

“Everyone wants you, Jeremy. You’re a wet dream. Men and women have your magazine ads pinned to their walls. Trust me.”

He laughed. “Oh come on. You’re a little biased, you know, Martin.”

“Am I?” Sure, I was biased. I also knew what it was like to take his photo. To see him come alive under the lens of my camera. To see his image on my computer screen teasing me with what I thought I couldn’t have. Until he’d let me know in the next session pretty clearly that he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

And I still had a hard time believing it. Even when we were fucking and he was crying out my name, I wondered how I’d gotten this lucky.

“I want you to come,” he said then.

“What?” My mind was still wrapped up in erotic memories and I wasn’t sure what he meant.

“To London. Come to London with me, Martin.”


Chapter One

“What? I can’t just take off for two weeks,” I said, trying to wrap my head around what was happening.

“Why not? It’s not like you have a regular nine-to-five job. What do you have booked for the next little while?”

He was practically bursting with excitement and optimism and I couldn’t blame him. This was a BIG DEAL.

“Well, I — “

He stood up and approached me, grabbing my shoulders and staring into my eyes with an intense energy. “Come to London with me. Please.”

My head filled with excuses as to why I couldn’t or shouldn’t, but my mouth said, “Okay.”

He let out a whoosh of air that smelled like cinnamon. Perks of working at Starbucks. “Really?”

I nodded. “Sure, why not? I can just take out a second mortgage on this place.”

His face fell and I felt like I’d kicked my pet dog.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” I took his chin and kissed him softly. “It’s going to be expensive that’s all. But I’m just about to pitch a spread to Outside Magazine. If I can convince them a story about the New Forest would be timely, this just might work.”

“Oh shit, I forgot you had that meeting. What time?” His smile was back.

“An hour. Can you help me get some information together?”

“Of course.”

“And tell me what to wear?”



Jeremy and I spent thirty minutes printing pages of information on The New Forest in England — weather patterns, indigenous animals and fauna, acreage, human encroachment. It would be a hastily put together pitch, but one I hoped would at least pique their interest enough to tell me to go for it. And pay some of my way.

After dressing in the outfit Jeremy picked out — dark jeans, leather oxfords, a white button-up and casual blazer — I kissed him at the door and left him to dream about modelling for a famous artist in one of the biggest metropolitan cities of the world and walked three blocks to the Lieutenant’s Pump.

I felt nervous because I had prepared a completely different pitch and now I needed to beg them to send me to England. I’d only been doing gigs for this magazine for a year and I didn’t know if I had enough of a reputation yet to snag myself an overseas trip. But the motivation to spend time in London with Jeremy drove me.

The editor from Outside, a Mr. Clarence Twomes, was already seated at a table in the corner of the pub. He stood when he saw me approach.

“Hey, Martin, it’s great to see you again,” he said with genuine warmth, shaking my hand enthusiastically.

“Mr. Twomes,” I smiled.

“Call me Clarence. I loved your piece on Gatineau Park, by the way. The images were incredible.”

I blushed, not used to so much admiration and respect. It bode well for my mission. “Thank you. It was something I’d worked on for awhile. I’m so grateful that Outside Magazine was interested.”

Clarence flagged the server. “What’ll you have, Martin? It’s on me. Well, it’s on the magazine, that is.”

“Oh? Great. Guiness please.”

The server left and in a few moments brought my beer. Clarence and I made small talk about the weather and then he toasted our meeting and asked what I was up to lately.

“Well, actually, that’s why I called you. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Anytime, Martin. Do you have another spread for us?”

I fiddled with the edge of the coaster. “Well, that’s the thing. I have an idea for one. But I don’t know if it fits your mandate or what kind of advance you can offer me.”

Clarence sat back in his chair. “Hit me.”

All right. Here goes.

“I want to do a piece on the New Forest in England.”

One, two, three, four — I counted silently to ten before launching into a rambling justification as I reached for my satchel. “I mean, there are — “

“I like it. The New Forest. That’s near London, isn’t it?”

Had he figured out this was all a ploy to go to London? Well, not really, because what nature photographer wouldn’t want to do a story about the New Forest?

“Well, yes, but —“

“I’ll check with the executive editor but I don’t see a problem. What’s your timeline and what do you need?”

I stared at him, speechless. How could it be this easy? I had expected to have to convince him. I left my satchel leaning against my leg.

“Um, well, I think, I’d like to go as soon as possible. Maybe the end of the month?” Jeremy’s photo shoot was on the 28th. Only a few weeks away.

“Okay. If you can submit something by the end of next month we can probably fit it into the fall issue. You’ll want your flight and accommodations taken care of I assume?”

I nodded, still a little out of it. This was not how I’d thought the meeting would go. I took a big swallow of beer.

“I can email you the forms and we can get this started. If you can get them filled out and back to me by tomorrow or Wednesday I can probably get you something by the weekend. Either an advance or a travel voucher.”

I blinked. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” I didn’t really know what to say.

He seemed suddenly to be aware of my surprise. “Martin, you’re very talented. And intelligent and well written. We’re pretty much interested in anything you want to put together, as long as it goes along with what we like to publish. A story about The New Forest falls perfectly within our interests. If it costs us a bit of money to get you over there, we’ll pay it.”


When I got home, after a great chat with Clarence about the prospects of my trip and my excitement to shoot overseas, I raced upstairs and keyed open the door with enthusiasm. Jeremy, in faded skinny jeans and a t-shirt, turned from the stove, where he was stirring a pot of what smelled like pasta sauce.

I stopped dead, experiencing a strange, surrealistic moment of gratitude and disbelief that this man was mine. When I saw him like this, suddenly after a brief or long absence, in all his laid back, sexy splendour, I was reminded how lucky I was to have him. I stood there dumbly, my eyes raking over him as if I’d forgotten what he looked like. Which was ridiculous because the way he looked, the way he smelled, all the little habitual gestures, every nook and cranny of his exemplary body was indelibly etched in my memory.

“Hey. How did it go?” He asked, as if he hadn’t just given my eyes an orgasm.

“Good,” I said, walking into the living room and putting down my satchel. “Great.”

He raised his eyebrows, pausing his stirring. “You mean — “

I smiled. “They’re paying me to go to England with you.”

“Really?” He dropped the spoon and walked over to me, eyes wide with excitement and disbelief.

I nodded. “Well, I’ll have to take some pictures.”

He stopped in front of me, raising his eyebrows again and lifting up his t-shirt slowly to reveal his fine abdomen with its soft covering of hair. He moved his other hand teasingly across skin of his belly. “Oh, yes you will, Martin. Lots and lots of pictures.”

I laughed. “Of the landscape, dumb nuts.” I said with affection, although my eyes appreciated his nakedness. So did my cock. “Of trees and greenery and ponies.”

He smirked. “I can be a pony. I’d make a cute pony.”

My cock twitched. “I don’t think that’s what Outside magazine is looking for. However,” I said, assessing him. “I’m not dismissing the idea out of hand.”

He grinned. “Seriously? We’re going to England together?”

I nodded.

“For two weeks?”

“For two whole weeks.”

He reached out, grabbed my shirt and pulled me in, kissing my neck and ear and finding his way to my mouth. I tasted his excitement and that particular flavour that was Jeremy. When we parted he looked at me with some concern.

“We have to fly you know.”

I swallowed down the flare of fear that lit inside me. “Uh huh.”

“You’re scared to fly.”

I cleared my throat, looking down. “I’m not scared. I just don’t like to.”

“But you’ll do it for me.”

I looked back up, gazing into his brown eyes. “I’ll do anything for you.”


By early the following week we had plane tickets and a hotel room booked for eight days on the magazine’s ticket, opting for a luxury King Suite and agreeing to pay any extra fee out of pocket. Then I booked us a campsite in the middle of The New Forest for the remaining four days. Jeremy’s shoot would be over and I could spend some time immersed in nature and take as many photos as possible. We could rent everything we needed for the same price as staying at a hotel for the duration.

I also booked an appointment with my doctor.

“Martin, what’s the problem today?” Dr. Acevitos asked in his usual, get-to-the-point-I-have-other-patients way.

“I, uh, I need something for my nerves,” I said, rubbing my hand on my pants. Just the thought of boarding that plane in a week sent me into a panic.

He raised his eyebrows. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”

I sat in the chair beside the examination table. “I’m going to England next week,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “And I’m terrified of flying.”

His expression softened. “Ah. I see. Will you be travelling alone?”

I shook my head. “No. My partner’s going with me.”

“Jeremy,” Dr. Acevitos said, and I remembered that Jeremy was his patient as well.

“Yes. But he doesn’t know how fucking scared I am.”

Dr. Acevitos nodded, straightening up. “You’re not alone, Martin. A lot of people are afraid to fly. Especially these days, what with all the terrorist atta —“ He stopped talking abruptly when my eyes went wide. He continued, “uh, never mind. I mean, it’s a common thing.”

“Is there something I can take before I get on the plane? Something that won’t knock me right out but will make me kind of forget why I’m scared? Or something?”

He smiled reassuringly. “Absolutely.”

He keyed something into his computer and the printer spat out a paper. He handed it to me. “This is a script for Xanax. Please read the information packet carefully and take only the recommended dose and only on the morning of the flight. Too much of this stuff is going to make you really loopy, and you don’t want that.”

Oh, hell, yeah I did. I wanted to be looped out of my fucking mind. I didn’t tell him that.

“Thank you,” I said with real gratitude.

“And think about telling Jeremy how you’re feeling. Sometimes talking honestly with someone who cares can help just as much as the meds.”

I doubted that. Jeremy loved to fly. He wouldn’t understand my fear at all. He was the bravest person I knew.

On Monday morning, four days before our flight, I watched Jeremy sit down at the kitchen table and unzip the blue nylon bag that contained his daily needles. He took one out and examined it, checking for tiny particles before removing it from the plastic and setting it on a clean towel in front of him.

“I guess you’ll have to remember to pack enough of those,” I said, nodding toward the syringe.

He gave me a reassuring smile. “You bet. I’m not risking even a day without taking this stuff.”

I nodded. “Good.”

Jeremy had Multiple Sclerosis, a fact he’d neglected to tell me when we’d met and experienced an instant attraction. A few weeks later, after a very stimulating and somewhat kinky encounter, he’d woken up in the middle of the night barely able to walk. I’d found him on the floor of my living room and he’d told me after several long moments during which I was imagining the worst that it was the MS. In the following days his doctor had put him on this daily injectable and he’d taken it religiously. He’d needed to use a cane for a few weeks but eventually recovered and had been well ever since, taking naps when he felt tired, eating healthy and exercising within reason.

I watched as he injected himself in the upper thigh, without a wince or a hiss or any sound of distress because he was so used to it. Afterwards he stood up, disposed of the needle in the Sharps container under the sink and threw away the cotton ball.

When he saw me looking he raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“I love you.” It was a simple statement of my pride and affection for him. Not schmalzy or sentimental, just a fact.

He smirked and pulled out a Star Wars reference. “I know.”

I cleared my throat, suddenly realizing Jeremy was in nothing but a pair of white boxer briefs that outlined his gorgeous ass and thighs and showed off the bulge in front. Okay, who am I kidding, I noticed that when I entered the kitchen.

“When do you have to work today?” I asked, running my finger along the counter, trying to look nonchalant.

“Not ‘till four. You?”

“I don’t have any bookings today.”

Our eyes met as Jeremy straightened. “Well. Isn’t that interesting,” he said, pretending to stretch and moving in a way that caused my mouth to go dry.

“You, uh, wanna go back to bed?” I asked with a small, hopeful smile.

“I should probably shower,” he said, sniffing at his pits, which also made my dick twitch.

I shook my head. “Uh uh. No point getting clean just to get…dirty.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if you say so.”

I gestured to the bedroom. “I’ll meet you on the bed in a second.”

Jeremy lounged on the bed, on his belly, still in his boxer briefs, looking at one of my Photo Lens back issues. I took a few moments to admire him before placing the bottle of honey I’d brought from the kitchen onto the bedside table with a soft thunk.

He looked over at it, then back at the magazine. “Hungry?”

I gulped. I loved the way he teased me. “Famished.”

I got up onto the bed on my knees between his spread legs and placed a hand on the sole of each of his feet, tracing up his legs very slowly as his breathing hitched and quickened. Continuing, I got to the edge of his white boxer briefs and pushed underneath, sliding my fingers to the crease of his buttocks.

He turned a page of the magazine, probably to cover up a quiet gasp, as if my actions hardly affected him at all.

I stroked my fingers along the edge of the crease for a few moments, then withdrew them and reached for the waistband of his undershorts.

“Martin,” he said calmly.

“Yes?” I breathed.

“I like where you’re going with this.”

I grinned, pulling his boxer briefs slowly down over the twin globes of his perfect ass. “Me too.”

He made a small noise when I bent my lips to kiss one, then the other. He smelled of soap and water. “Did you wash your ass?”

He giggled. “Maybe.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?”

He snorted. “Not really. I know you can’t resist it.”

I grinned. “That’s fair. But now I’ll have to dirty it up again.” I stretched over him and grabbed the bottle of honey.

“Oh, God, no,” he said in mock protest. “Whatever will I do?”

I sat back in a comfortable stance and slapped his ass gently. “You’ll be quiet and take it, like a good boy.”

He groaned, and I knew I had his attention.

He didn’t say anything, just shoved the magazine aside as I placed a hand on his ass, spreading his cheeks with my fingers. I tipped the bottle of honey over him and squeezed, watching the amber liquid drip onto his pink hole and ooze down the crack of his ass, my dick hardening and leaking at the sight.

“Oh fuck,” he said.

“Yum,” I replied.

He whimpered as I bent my head and licked at the honey, my tongue a soft counterpoint to the stubble on my chin. I smiled against him as he squirmed and moaned, my technique having been perfected over the past few years. I’d only ever done this to one person and that was Jeremy.

And I loved doing this to him. I used my tongue and even my teeth on the tender skin there, causing him to make the most delicious noises and motions of desperation. His frantic pants, moans and whimpers spurred me on and I ate his ass like I was born to it. I brought my finger down to circle his sweet hole. He cried out. I did it again, jabbing my tongue at the same time.

He arched his back and stuttered my name. “Martin!”

“Mmmph, what?” I didn’t want to stop in order to answer.

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he panted.

I laughed, causing him to moan again. “No, you’re not,” I said. “You never come from just this.”

He groaned again and reached behind to grab my free hand, pulling it underneath him to his cock. I kept tonguing his ass while I wrapped my hand around him. He was hard as fuck and leaking like crazy onto the bed.

“Fuck,” I said.

“See?” He said in a hoarse, desperate voice.

“Yeah,” I gave him another swipe with my tongue and felt his dick jerk in my hand. “Okay. I’ll stop. Maybe.” I jabbed my tongue at his hole one more time and then sat up, dizzy with arousal. My own cock was so hard it was painful.

I let my hand slide from underneath him and grabbed some lube from the drawer, almost knocking the bottle of honey off the table. I slapped his left cheek again. “Up.”

He quickly obeyed my request, lifting his ass as he got up on hands and knees before me. He couldn’t keep still. “Hurry up. Fuck.”

“Would you hold on a minute.” Luckily I had licked most of the honey off so now concentrated on slicking him up with the water-based lube. At least I had his full attention.

“Oh, fuck, Martin, shit. I need you so bad.”

“This wasn’t even your idea. What if I’d left for an appointment or something?” I teased, using my fingers to prep him.

“What do you mean it wasn’t my idea? Why do you think I was prancing around half naked in the kitchen? You give me too little credit.” He moaned and shuddered as my fingers pushed deeper.

I shook my head. He was always one step ahead of me.

“Would you please fuck me already?” he whined.

“Say pretty please,” I told him as I withdrew my fingers and slicked my cock, moaning at the sensation of my own hand. I was so ready.

“Pretty please, Martin. Pretty please with a fucking cherry on top.”

I spread his cheeks and leaned forward, guiding my cock to his entrance. In one well placed thrust I was in.

He cried out in pleasure, his arms flexing and his hands fisting the sheets. I thrust in deeper, my eyes rolling back.

“Yes,” he moaned, “Yes. Go deep. Fuck me hard.”

Now I couldn’t keep still. My quick breaths scraped my throat dry as I fucked him, deep and hard, just like he wanted. Like we both wanted.

Soon I had him gasping and all but crying. I knew his sounds like they were my own. In fact I was pretty much doing the same thing. He felt so good and so right and I was almost there.

“Come inside me. Come inside me,” he groaned, arching his back and pushing back against my thrusts. “I want to feel you come…”

And that did it. With one more thrust I shuddered and emptied into him, waves of pure pleasure washing over me as I kept moving, knowing he was close too. I reached beneath him and grabbed his thrusting cock.

“Ah! Fuck! Jesus!” he yelled as he exploded, covering my hand with his wet spunk. Now he wascrying softly and saying my name over and over.

“I’m here, I’m here,” I said soothingly, as I withdrew and gathered him to me. He did this sometimes, so overcome by the raw emotions of our coupling. And I loved it. I loved that it shook him so deeply and I felt it too, even though I was able to control my tears. “Shhhhh, I’m here.”

Flash Fiction Monday (on Wednesday)


I just joined Helena Stone’s flash fiction Facebook Group because I desperately needed to write a short piece for this photo:



“Jason, you need to scrub it in.”

I thought I was scrubbing it in.

“I am scrubbing it. You want harder?”


I huffed fake annoyance and dug my fingers deep into his scalp, eliciting a deep groan. Okay then.

“That’s better.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I said, with only a bit of sarcasm.

“Watch it. Getting you to wash my hair is a pretty mild consequence for what you did earlier.”

My ears perked up, as did my cock. I mean, I’d thought it a little too mild actually. And kind of boring. Plus my fingers were getting tired.

“Too mild?” I asked, hinting.

He groaned under the flex of my fingers. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, maybe. I’m not a fan of mild. As you know.” I was a fan of intense. Maybe even painful. Definitely not mild.

“Well, then. Why don’t we finish up here. Rinse me.”

The smile spread over my face before I had grabbed the hand held shower, washing the suds from his black hair and wondering what he would choose; a spanking, maybe. I could definitely go for a spanking. I’d been a very naughty boy.

Exciting Announcement!


If you are not aware, Exposure was the first story I had published, way back in the summer of 2011. I basically wrote it for MLR Press when I stumbled upon their website and hoped they would accept it for publication. Well, they did, and the rest is history.

These were some of the reviews on Goodreads:

Jeremy, a hot young working guy, takes a dare from his buddies to be photographed for the purpose of building a portfolio to be used to embark on a modeling career. Here is no simpering, vain young beauty; rather we grow to love this brilliantly courageous young man who has determined that he will live each moment of his life to the fullest.

~ Sammy Goode, 2012

Exposure is the debut offering of Elizabeth Lister. I’m not going to lie…this book surprised the hell out of me. I was expecting to find many of the mistakes that new writers make. I was surprised with the maturity that Ms. Lister brought to the party.

~ Portia, 2011
I don’t really have a reason why I thought this book might be average or predictable. It certainly wasn’t either, but rather surprised me with the genuine humor, extremely hot sex scenes and incredible depth.

~ Valentina Heart, 2011

This book is a sweet, HOT gem complete with humor, charm and and a surprise twist that gives beautiful depth to Marty and Jeremy’s relationship. 
What begins as a routine photo session quickly develops into an intense attraction between, Marty, a thirty-something artist who’s love life has hit a bit of a slump and Jeremy, a young, beautiful university grad who’s friends have dared him to put together a modeling portfolio. 

~ Boyboygirllove, 2011

And an excellent review at Top2Bottom Reviews.

A common refrain in several of the reviews was for a follow-up story about Jeremy and Martin. My readers wanted to see them a few years down the line.

But I had other things to do. Namely a hardcore BDSM series about three very adventurous men making creative use of a refurbished attic loft playroom, The James Lucas Trilogy.

But I’m done with James, Tate and Sebastian, at least for now. Although sad to leave them behind with the soon-to-be published The Loft – Book Three, the final instalment of The Loft Trilogy, it’s time to move on.

I want to try something different. A serial story on my website – a new chapter each month. And somehow, Jeremy and Martin are speaking to me again.

Starting with the release of the September edition of my newsletter Hot Off The Press! on Friday, September 15th, you can catch up with Martin and Jeremy in a new story called White Balance that will be available to read for free, one chapter per month, on my website.

I am hoping to make it novel length, which means I’ll be writing a chapter a month for about two years. A little on the slow side, but then again, it’s free and I will be working on other projects at the same time. Once it’s complete I will probably offer it to MLR Press for publication and wipe it from the site. So, if you want to read it soonish, or at least start to read it, please sign up for my monthly newsletter which will alert you to the release of each new chapter.

I will also be offering some free e-copies of Exposure as part of a contest in the September 15th issue of Hot Off The Press!

Also in Issue 2, an exclusive excerpt from The Loft – Book Three!

Hot Off The Press! Sign-Up form.


Cover Reveal for The Loft-Book Three!

I am so excited to show off the brand new cover for the final book in The Loft Trilogy:

The Loft book 3 by MP


Sebastian and Tate have moved in with James and the three men get used to sharing a residence. Sebastian is accepted into the Graphic Design program at Algonquin College. Receiving an unexpected promotion at work leads Tate into an awkward situation with a client. Meanwhile, James receives threatening emails that reference the threesome’s adventurous sexual antics. Is someone actually watching or just trying to make them uncomfortable enough to leave the neighborhood? 

The Loft – Book One

The Loft – Book Two

Book Review – “Prime Minister” by Ainsley Booth and Sadie Haller


As a proud Canadian, any book that purports to be an erotic romance with BDSM elements about the Prime Minister of Canada goes immediately onto my TBR List. But I don’t read straight erotica very often, so it took meeting one of the authors at a local event and also being able to download the book for free from Amazon to get me to start it.

Once I did, I realized this was the book I’d been searching for. A straight romance with a very original premise, great characters, intelligent, realistic plot, and very hot sex.

I noticed quite quickly the authors’ occasional nods to a previous popular straight erotic romance that has, since its publication, been the receptor of harsh criticism for its not-so-bright and unrealistically inexperienced female protagonist, damaged stalker hero, and banal writing.

Prime Minister takes a similar dynamic, i.e., a powerful but young man with BDSM tastes and a woman in her early twenties with submissive leanings, and does a much better job of representing a modern sexual relationship between equals. Our heroine, Ellie, has a sexual past, is not a virgin, has excelled in her education and is completing a PHD. As part of her studies she accepts a three-month internship at Parliament working directly under Prime Minister Gavin Strong. There is an instant attraction between them and their interactions in those early encounters are some of the most amusing parts of the book, especially when Ellie takes her cue from a certain arthouse movie to try to signal her interest in what Gavin is offering.

Unlike in the other book I mentioned, the authors here represent BDSM as a valid lifestyle choice, not only with Gavin’s character but with his mentor, a recognized physician and secret BDSM aficionado. There is no suggestion that either man has resorted to this lifestyle out of a need to address childhood trauma. In fact, for Gavin, it is hardly a lifestyle but more of a preference, and only for a sense of casual dominance in the bedroom, something that Ellie finds quite irresistible.

It is, of course, still a fictional fantasy and needs to be read with a certain amount of suspended disbelief, but I found the way the characters circumvented the obvious hazards of their relationship to be very mature and politically astute. The scenes in Parliament between Gavin and his aides and especially with the media seemed very realistic and believable. Ellie provided many of the insights needed to manage their delicate situation and reacted to emotional challenges with poise and strength in the end, while displaying human vulnerabilities.

All in all, a very well written and sexy romance with a distinctly Canadian angle, a strong heroine and an empathic, emotionally mature hero who likes a bit of hanky-spanky in the bedroom. Who can be upset about that?

5/5 stars for intelligently addressed BDSM and for accomplishing the astonishing task of making parliamentary politics so very sexy.

Ainsley Booth

Sadie Haller



Dream Daddy!


My thirteen year-old daughter somewhat bashfully introduced me to this game. She thought she might get in trouble for inappropriate Youtube watching but when I sat down with her and watched Markiplier hook up with Craig at the campsite, and then googled some great articles about the game, I was reassured about its mostly PG content.

It actually is a really sweet and hilarious game. In fact, I had been looking for something to do as an audience participation game at an event I was helping with at the recent Romancing the Capital convention in Kanata. When I found this game it just seemed perfect for a low key guided play for a bunch of readers of romance, since the whole point of the game is to form a romantic attachment to one of the many cute Dads. Also, a majority of the attendees at RTC are moms, and they would certainly get the parental humour and touching moments between the central character (the Dad you are playing as) and his 17 year-old daughter, Amanda. The fact that you play as a gay Dad looking for love just helps be bring an LGBTQ+ angle to the event. Since I’m already helping represent LGBTQ+ content at RTC, it seemed perfect.


I was a little concerned about how many people would actually show up to my table to play, since other games going on at the same time were Dirty Pictionary and Sex Toy Pinata. Turns out I had a full crowd and only had to compete with the noise. Overall it was a success and I was able to introduce a bunch of people to this very fun game. There were lots of giggles and appreciation of the hot Dads we got to meet. And laughs over the fumbling attempts at engagement that our Dad, Alfred, put forth to get with the sexy and loveable Craig (my favourite Dream Daddy).

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Now, while I was preparing this game for a limited-time group-play (i.e., getting my character, Alfred, to the right place to get closer to Craig), and promoting in the RTC group what a wholesome and positive game it was, a buzz about a secret dark ending for one of the characters started emerging online. I knew we had no chance of getting near any secret ending at the event so I wasn’t concerned, but I did investigate. Honestly, if this secret ending exists, it really doesn’t bother me and actually makes the game more interesting.

Besides, the evil guy is the very conservative-looking and creepy Christian character named Joseph, which seems very satisfying to someone who has a deep distrust of overly religious people. Even my daughter picked up on his creepy vibes right away. I’m glad she knows at such a young age that people who display an inordinate amount of involvement in any particular religion cannot be trusted, lol.

I had to learn it the hard way, but that’s another post.

Check out Dream Daddy on Steam.




Book Review – “Triad Soul” by ‘Nathan Burgoine


There was not nearly enough sex in this book. That is my only complaint, and only because I love Luc, Curtis and Anders so much and because I know ‘Nathan Burgoine writes amazing sex scenes when he has a mind to (‘Nathan, we need to talk). And because I’m an admitted erotica slut.

However, I am utterly humbled by ‘Nathan’s plot skills and the way he manages to present us with a paranormal mystery and keep us guessing as his hot-as-hell supernatural sleuths try to figure everything out.

The relationship between Curtis (the wizard), Luc (the vampire), and Anders (the demon), continues to grow in their concern for each other and the way they annoy the hell out of each other at times. It is easy to see the development, and the one very graphic scene between Anders and Curtis does not disappoint (except that it is way too short. Sorry – erotica slut speaking again).

I am sincerely hoping that in the next book, ‘Nathan stops playing with my heart and, uh, other parts, and brings these three truly together in physical and emotional intimacy (I hear he can be bribed with fudge and there may still be time).

Seriously though, in terms of crafting a complex plot and creating a paranormal underworld in the capital city of Ottawa, Canada, Burgoine has an adept hand. There is violence and gore, magic and politics, new adversaries and allies, and plenty of sexual innuendo to keep things interesting (mostly thanks to Anders).

I love the way ‘Nathan represents multiple diversities in his books and his positive and realistic female characters. Again the comparison to the Harry Potter novels is appropriate. I don’t know how he keeps everything straight in that magical head of his but he does, and the result is wonderful.

There is much offhand humour in all of Burgoine’s books, and this one is no exception. Speaking of sexual innuendos:

They walked to the elevator in silence. After the doors closed and the elevator started to descend, Matthew leaned against the wall. “You know, he is hot. He’s got that whole deep voice thing, and there’s just something about a professor.”

“Anders says he has a thing for ropes and handcuffs,” Curtis said.

“Really?” Matthew sounded intrigued.

“I am never going to make it through his class ever again unless you both stop talking,” Mackenzie said.

I’m pretty sure he put that part in just for me. And also the brief scene between Anders and Professor Mann near the end of the book. Enough said (and thank you!).

I am eagerly awaiting the release of book three and searching for fudge recipes.

5/5 stars (4 stars due to the lack of triad sex which is my own personal problem, bumping up to 5 stars due to the genius level of plot and character)