For Sparrow, by Pandora Spocks

For Sparrow, the third book in Pandora Spock’s The Dream Dominant Collection will be released on October 3, 2017. It’s a steamy erotic romance with a light BDSM theme, told in 96,000 words. The rather striking cover was designed by Linzi Basset.

I’ve read another of Pandora’s books, Just One Night, which I enjoyed and reviewed on Amazon and Goodreads.

I’ve already pre-ordered For Sparrow and will post reviews once I’ve read it. There’s a generous pre-release price, if you like the sound of this story!



When Jessi Crenshaw’s husband Graham dies unexpectedly, she’s devastated.  He’s the only man she’s ever loved.  Just eighteen when she met him, she’s been married to him for twenty-five years.  Now she’s lost her friend, her lover…and her Dominant.


But as it turns out, Graham had an inkling that his health was in decline, and he tapped his friend and protégé in the Lifestyle, firefighter and paramedic Judd Farris, to be Jessi’s Dominant until she gets back on her feet.

Judd is determined to fulfill his promise to his friend.  But it’s a damn odd arrangement—a platonic Dom/sub relationship.  With her fiery auburn hair, sparkling green eyes, and audacious spirit, Jessi captured his attention the first time he ever saw her.  At her husband’s funeral.

A man could go to hell for the things he’s been thinking.  But they’ve drawn a line, and he’s going to stick to it.

Judd’s sexy good looks and his gentle confidence aren’t lost on Jessi.  She’s torn between loyalty to the man she loved, and desire for the man increasingly in her fantasies.  In the letter Graham left for her, he mentioned that she might find Judd attractive.  But that’s simply ridiculous.  He’s five years younger than she is.  He couldn’t possibly be interested in her.  Could he?

Judd’s a Dom without a sub, and Jessi’s a sub without a Dom.  It’s perfect for the time being.  Could it be that Graham had more in mind than merely a temporary solution?

And could it all end at the hands of a madman?


An excerpt:

Jessi’s hands shook.  With her index finger, she traced the writing on the front of the envelope.  She glanced out the back door to see Judd kick off his shoes and sit on the edge of the pool, sinking his feet in the water.  Buddy flopped down beside him and rolled over, wanting his tummy scratched, and Judd obliged.

She turned her attention back to the envelope.  Her irrational self told her that if she didn’t open it, somehow everything could go back to normal.  But curiosity won the moment, and she slid her thumb under the flap and carefully opened the letter.

My dearest Sparrow,

I’m so sorry I’m not there with you.  I can feel my heart beginning to wear out.  Please don’t be angry with me for not telling you, I know how you worry about things.  We’ve had a good life together.  I’ve told you before and I’m telling you again, you are the best thing that ever happened to me.  The fact that you are the mother of my children amazes the hell out of me.  What did I ever do to deserve such a terrific family?

Jessi reached up to wipe a silent tear from her cheek.  Self-consciously, she flicked her eyes out to the pool deck to find that Judd was watching her intently, and he flashed a sympathetic smile.  Sniffing, she read on.

It would be pointless, I suppose, to tell you not to mourn.  Just don’t do it too long.  And don’t you dare wear black.  God, I hate all that maudlin bullshit.  Now Sparrow, you and I know that you are a natural submissive.  I don’t want you to feel lost without a Dominant in your life.  I want you to find one, a true Gentleman who will cherish you in the way you deserve.  One who will nurture the sexy, sensual woman you truly are.  Don’t you go back to some kind of vanilla half-existence.  That would really piss me off. 

Tears still streaming, she laughed because she could almost hear Graham’s voice.

If you have this letter, you’ve met Judd.  I’ve known him for several years now, and he’s a solid Dominant.  I’ve asked him to check in on you and to take care of some things around the house.  I’ve also asked him to help you out until you find a Dominant of your own.  Judd is willing to give you knee time, Sparrow, to help you settle your mind and find peace.  I don’t mean sex and kink.  He would be a sort of ‘emotional Dominant,’ just until you get back on your feet.

On the other hand, if you found yourself attracted to Judd, it would make me happy knowing that you’d be in good hands.  He’s a good man, Jessi, a gentle man and a Gentleman.  He would be a perfect sexual Dominant for you.  I worry thinking about the dangers out there, Sparrow.  You and Judd could make your own way. 

Mortified, Jessi glanced out the back door.  Thankfully, Judd was staring out across the pool.  “I can’t believe you’re telling me these things,” she murmured to herself.

Anyway, I trust you, Sparrow.  You’re smart and strong, and I’m so proud of you.  Never forget that you are absolutely the love of my life.  I’m forever grateful to you for taking my hard, stuffy heart and helping me to be a better man than I ever dreamed about being.  Be sure the kids know how much I love them.  I love you, my Sparrow, with all my heart.  Live happy.  Find love and cherish it.

Your loving husband and Master, G.

Jessi was completely undone.  Sobbing, she folded her arms on the counter and rested her head on them.  She cried until she felt she had no tears left.  Moments passed and she raised her head.  It hurt and her eyes felt puffy.  With a glance at Judd and Buddy still sitting by the pool, she went into the powder room and splashed water on her face.

Taking a deep breath, she forced her feet out the back door and across the pool deck.  Judd smiled up at her kindly.  “How are you holding up?”

Jessi shrugged as she stepped out of her sandals and sat beside him, slipping her feet into the cool water.  They sat without speaking, each gently sliding feet through the water, watching the ripples cross the pool and return to them.  Judd moved his foot under her leg and raised her foot to the surface.  The fuchsia nail polish was chipped and peeling.

“How long since you had a pedicure, Jessi?” he asked gently.

She moved her foot away and looked at him sharply.  “What exactly did your letter say, Judd?”

He exhaled forcefully.  “Like I said, he was worried about you.  He said that you’re submissive and that you might need somebody in your life until you find your way.”  He glanced at her knowingly.  “When was the last time your mind was quiet, little one?”

A tear slid down Jessi’s cheek and she swiped at it roughly.  “So, you’re my appointed Dominant, is that it?” she asked testily.

“It’s not like that.”  Judd looked at her steadily.  “Graham and I were friends.  We talked about Dominance and submission for hours over the years.  He trusted me.  Trusted me with the one thing that meant the most to him in the world.”

He paused, gazing at her thoughtfully.  “He didn’t want you to run into the wrong kind of man while you’re looking to ease your mind, to fill that emptiness that I see in your eyes.”  Jessi stubbornly looked away and swiped at her cheek again.

“You know, it’s entirely up to you.  I’m going to complete the list of things around your house.  I promised him I would.  But whether you accept me as a surrogate Dominant?  Only you can decide that.”

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.  “You miss knee time, I know you do,” he said softly.  “A chance to just let go of all the concerns that weigh you down.”  Jessi turned back to look at him, her expression softer.  “I’m not talking about kinky sex, tying you up and all that.  I’m offering you a chance to clear your mind of everything, let me carry your burdens for a while.”

“Why?  Why would you do that?”  Her voice was strained.

Judd shrugged.  “I’m Dominant.  It’s what I crave, to be needed, to take care of a submissive.”  He laughed lightly.  “I’m a Dominant without a submissive, and you’re a submissive without a Dominant.  For the time being, it works out well.”

He gazed at her steadily, kindness in his brown eyes.  “Just say the word.  Do you want knee time, little one?”

Another tear rolled down her cheek.  And she nodded.  “Yes,” she whispered.  “I want knee time.”

He smiled patiently.  “Yes, what, little one?”

“Yes, Master.”

Judd shook his head.  “I’m not your Master, little one.  Yes, Sir will do.”

Unconsciously, Jessi bowed her head submissively.  “Yes, Sir, may I please have knee time?”

“Yes, you may,” he responded gently.  “There is a big leather chair in your den.  Be kneeling beside the chair in two minutes.  Your eyes will be closed and you will clear your mind.  Do you understand, little one?”

“Yes, Sir.”  Jessi stood and started to walk away, but then turned and looked at him anxiously.  “My clothes, Sir?”

“Your clothes are fine the way they are,” he answered.  “Hurry.  I’ll come to you shortly.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, and she hurried into the house.



Author Bio:

Pandora Spocks is a sassy ginger and hopeless romantic, living her happily ever after in South Florida.

Pandora has had stories pinballing around in her head for years. At one point, she spent hours daydreaming in Mrs. Howe’s ninth grade algebra class. She didn’t learn much algebra, but she had some really good ideas. Recently she decided to try her hand at sharing those stories with others.

She enjoys reading and writing literary erotic romance.  She is the author of the three-novel epic romance Rannigan’s Redemption, and a naughty little romantic novella, Just One NightFor Sparrow joins Luke & Bella and Lost & Bound as the third book in The Dream Dominant Collection, a series of light BDSM stand-alone novels.

Pandora is currently at work on her next spicy romance.

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I’m always intrigued by the wide variety of ideas people come up with for stories. How do they think of them?

Yes, of course there are strong similarities in many genres. Where would a billionaire erotic romance be without (a) a kinky and implausibly young billionaire, and (b) an innocent young lady with an unsuspected taste for being spanked?

And let’s face it, most romance stories are broadly similar. Boy meets girl and they  overcome hassles before finding true love. Said hassles might be a love rival, abduction, being involved in a war, family or cultural hostilities, misunderstandings, being separated by cruel fate, or simply not liking each other to start with. But if they met, fell in love and lived happily ever after, who’d want to read it?

I’m sure you know how the modern detective is almost required to have some personal problems, like over-fondness for drink, sex or gambling, a missing limb or a personality fault.

The classic crime thrillers actually had rules to be followed. SS Van Dine listed twenty in 1928, and Ronald Knox published ten in 1929. These are still broadly followed, for instance in the popular British “Midsomer Murders” TV series. Even though these are contemporary, they seem to be set sometime in the past, and often revolve around a rich but dysfunctional and mad family, or a village/community/club generously stuffed with slightly potty people.

But writers still need some inspiration for a story, whether it follows genre conventions or not. They need characters, events, and a story arc. Readers enjoy following the adventures as the characters experience things and develop, and hopefully feel satisfied when the story ends.

Some of my stories are probably inspired by others I’ve read or watched, even if I can’t actually remember them. But some ideas seem to come completely out of the blue, or grow from an idea for character, a phrase, or even by writing the story to suit an ending I’ve thought of. I’ve even had an idea from my local paper’s “police report” column, about which I will say no more until I’ve written it!

Many writers admit to using family, friends and acquaintances as the basis for characters. Real people are a great source of the sort of mannerisms and patterns of speech which could really bring a character to life for a reader. And thinking about how to briefly describe them in writing is an interesting exercise too.

I’ve created two characters based on real people. One was a former manager, whose literary alter-ego has an, er, colourful demise. But that’s nothing to do with our unhappy working relationship…

The other character appeared briefly in my third novella. About 20 years ago, I saw a report on my local TV news show about a second-world-war Spitfire which had just been converted to a two-seater. The team involved tracked down a delightful elderly gentleman who’d actually flown that very aircraft in the later stages of the war, and invited him to take a flight. The brief interview he gave afterwards has  stuck in my mind ever since. He said it was just like it had been when he was a young man, except it didn’t smell of fear.

I’ve not thought of a story where I can really explore how I feel about his comments. Well, not yet.

If you’ve seen the film “Shakespeare In Love”, you may recall a brief scene where Shakespeare walks through London and overhears snatches of conversation, all of which are well-known from his plays. A nice idea for an amusing short scene. I don’t believe for a second that the Bard “invented” all the words which appeared for the first known time in his writing, but he had an awesome knack for putting them together in ways which still work four hundred years later.

But that’s not a bad idea, keeping your ears open and making notes before you forget.

My wife was once given directions to a conference being hosted in a museum. The phrase “turn right at the elephant” certainly stuck in her mind. And I’ve used it in one of my own flash-fiction stories, too.

I’ve used another example in a draft novella I’m working on, inspired by a real-life conversation where someone said something which all-too-easily be taken to mean that her sister’s late husband had been put down by a vet.

I noted a brief conversation a couple of years which I’d love to use, but it’s a challenging to find a suitable context. But I will. I walked past some burlesque dancers chatting during a break between performances and overheard one of them say, “He wanted her to ride in on a pony, bareback and only wearing a tangerine thong. I mean, you just can’t do it.”

Is it me?

What’s the problem with tangerine?

Sinful Pleasures could soon be yours to enjoy…

Okay, a deliberately cheeky title!

I’m sharing some advance publicity for an anthology called Sinful Pleasures, which is available for pre-order. The release date will be 20th August 2017.

I was immediately struck by the strong cover image, and am now rather intrigued by the idea of trying out some variations on that idea myself as a photographic project.

I enjoy reading anthologies, as the stories are all varied and I can sample the work of “new to me” writers. And this one includes stories by two writers whose work I’ve already enjoyed.

The invitation to share this publicity on my blog was accompanied by the offer of a copy to review. I took them up on this, even though I’d have happily purchased a copy, on the agreement that I’d post an honest personal review, which follows…

With this anthology, Sinful Press have drawn together eleven quite varied stories of different lengths, all engaging, erotic and imaginative. The stories include some which are plausibly real-life, one which hints at being a horror story, and another which is almost paranormal.

I always find it difficult reviewing anthologies, because it seems unfair for me to pick out my favourite story. I know fully well that it’s my personal choice, and others would say another is their favourite. And I think they’re all good. But “The Pier By Night” by Janine Ashbless was the one which struck me most, at several levels.

A five-star read as far as I’m concerned.

Sinful Pleasures: An Anthology of Erotic Tales by Sinful Press (@sinfulpress)


Sinful Press welcomes you to lose yourself in Sinful Pleasures.

Join us as we weave our way from mainstream erotic romance to surreal sex-filled dreamscapes and everything in between, created by some of the best new and established voices in the erotica genre – Janine Ashbless, Ella Scandal, Sonni de Soto, Jo Henny Wolf, Lily Harlem, Lady Divine, Gail Williams, Samantha MacLeod, Tony Fyler, Ellie Barker, and Lisa McCarthy.





Excerpt from On The Line by Sonni de Soto

If he wanted to call her, he could call her.

He didn’t have to wait for her.

Decisively, he reached for his phone and began to dial.

She answered on the first ring. “Twenty minutes past nine.” Danielle tsked. “I always wondered how long it would take for you to call me.” Even over the phone, he could practically hear her shrug. “Twenty minutes sounds about right.”

“So this was a test?” He raised an eyebrow, not sure he liked the idea of that.

“Not a test, per se.” Her throaty voice was a soothing purr that, despite his efforts, did calm his irritation. Which was kind of irritating in and of itself. “More of an experiment. To shake things up a bit.”

“Shake things up how?” He harrumphed back against his headboard.

“We’re in a rut, Christopher.” She sighed with an audible shake of her head. “We’ve got to Columbus our way out of this.”

A rut? They were in a rut? Chris frowned and adjusted his glasses. He supposed that, sure, they’d both been a little tired lately. A little overworked and stressed. But a rut? “How are we supposed to do that?”

“Close your eyes,” she urged into the phone.

He huffed a bit, pouting, but did as she asked. It was, after all, a simple request. “Okay.”

“Imagine us,” her voice whispered in his ear. “Imagine us in your room. On your bed.”

Chris let out a sigh and tried. His mind focused, picturing her painted and so-mobile mouth forming her words. He thought about her tongue, slick and sly, as it slid across those lips, leaving a sheen in its wake. Chris let his mind remember the taste of her kiss, an utterly illogical mix of heated want and cool mint.

He imagined the familiar flush that always swept over her cheeks right before he took her mouth, that visible sign of her excitement that never failed to fuel his own. He knew that a blush like that could travel down her neck, her shoulder, her spine in a tickled shiver with the simplest touch.

And then there, in his room, on his bed, in his mind, like magic, she was laid seductive and stretched-out before him. He imagined the dark fall of curls that clouded around her face and shoulders, framing bared, bronzed skin perfectly.

His hands itched to grab the curves of her body. The swell of her sweeping hips. The pointed tips of her delectable breasts. The length of her long legs. The soft spread of sun-ripened skin, that always held the sweet scent of citrus, over the generous lushness of her body.

He could hear his own breath rasp as his mind transported her from her dorm room to the foot of his bed.

“Good,” he heard her coo in his ear. “Now that you have me there, whatever will you do with me?” Her mockingly naïve tone left him feeling provoked and promised.


Sinful Pleasures will be available through all main online bookstores in print and digital on the 20th of August.

Pre-order links:



Google Play:

Barnes and Noble:




Pre-order blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

Today’s post is to help Monique Roffey with a blog tour to publicise her new book, The Tryst, an adult psychological thriller.

Tryst cover

London, midsummer night. Jane and Bill meet the mysterious Lilah in a bar. She entrances the couple with half-true, mixed up tales about her life. At closing time, Jane makes an impulsive decision to invite Lilah back to their home. But Jane has made a catastrophic error of judgment, for Lilah is a skilled and ruthless predator, the likes of which few encounter in a lifetime. Isolated and cursed, Jane and Bill are forced to fight for each other, and, in doing so, discover their covert desires.

Part psychological thriller, part contemporary magical realism, The Tryst revisits the tale of Adam’s first wife, Lilith, to examine the secrets of an everyday marriage.


Praise for The Tryst

“What makes The Tryst an unexploded virus isn’t just the quality and brightness of Roffey’s writing on sex, even as it uncovers inner glades between flesh and fantasy where sex resides – but the taunting clarity of why those glades stay covered. A throbbing homewrecker of a tale, too late to call Fifty Shades of Red.”

DBC Pierre, Booker Prize winner.

Intriguing blurb, Monique. Would you like to tell us a bit more about the book?

Most of us have heard of Adam and Eve. Not that many of us have heard of Adam and Lilith. There was a first ‘wife’ prototype before Eve and her name was Lilith. In Hebrew, her name translates as night-hag, night-monster or screech owl. In fact, she has many names. None of them are nice, let alone innocent. Tales of Lilith, can be found in the Zohar, the foundation text of the Kabbalah, the book of Jewish mystical lore. She appears in the Bible too, in the book of Isaiah. Briefly, the story goes, God made a first wife for Adam, made of the same dirt. But this first wife was surly and insubordinate and refused to lie down under Adam in the sex act, and so was considered faulty. It was said she was made from ‘impure sediment’ and so she was banished to the desert forever. However, there she lived and thrived, making more and more children, all demonic. In Jewish lore, she never died or went away; she lived on, both as the archetype of the divine whore and terrible mother as well as in reality, for her children survived, multiplied and are with us still, all demons known as shedim.  They kill children, drain the semen of men in their sleep, they harm animals, conduct orgies and generally cause havoc.  In orthodox Jewish families it is common to hang amulets to guard against Lilatha in maternity rooms to protect infants against this monster, our first mother, Lilith.

You can’t help but like this feisty domme, no? Our first mother was an upstart, a rogue, a wild thing, a seductress. She didn’t die, no. She’s immortal, and she is amongst us, legend has it; and she is a killer. One of her many names is ‘strangler’. She has been portrayed as a winged cow, a predatory night owl, a witch, a storm, a succubus. She steals children, lures men to their death and is generally a nightmare on wings.

In my new novel, The Tryst we meet Lilah, a brazen impish redhead woman who appears from nowhere, one night, when Bill and Jane meet a friend in a bar. Even though Lilah has very odd, pointy ears, they don’t guess who she may be, that she’s a descendant of Lilith, our dark motherage. Who could guess? We moderns are long divorced from the ancient texts. In the novel, Bill and Jane mistake her for a casual swinger, and under-estimate her completely. Jane invites her home, a big mistake, because Lilah is a seasoned hunter, planning to do no good. In my novel, she devastates this innocent couple. She fulfills Jane’s fickle plan. She seduces Bill and invites Jane to watch. She is the divine whore and also a wicked sprite. She devastates and also heals, and in the process she learns a thing or two about love in the human realm. Lilah is in turn devastated, cast out again, this time with a lovesick heart. The Tryst is a love triangle. In it, all three characters are out of balance; all three suffer, and all three grow and learn. All three under-estimate each other. Lilah, a descendant of our great divine whore of a mother is a change agent, a chaos magician, but she also meets her comeuppance. Bill, a human lover who can meet her, opens her heart to love.


Here’s an extract 


Miss Unfucked reappeared with pints of beer for the men and looked quite rightly startled to see me in their midst. No one explained me properly; I intimated that I knew the dark-haired man. Funny how the English cannot be plain speaking, ask questions. Fishy, awkward, difficult things can happen but they pass by undiscussed; the English are too polite or perhaps too innocent to think the worst. I always took advantage of this to operate. The dumb stupid Queen-ass-kissing prudes. Miss Polo Neck coughed and the men bucked up and I introduced myself, a name I give sometimes: Lilah, I said. Of course, I lay claim to many others. Lilah Hopkins from the Deep South.

I was in control of them then, spinning some crazy outlandish story they gulped down, talking my best deep slurred Southern drawl. Our language has a similar cadence, butter-soft, and we like to use rich sexual words and curse like heathens, so I can easily pass this particular identity off. I told my favourite off-the-peg story, that I was adopted, had been found in a basket on the steps of a church, that my adopted mother had been married five times, that I was a Baptist. They nodded and found this story interesting. Holy God on earth! If I’d told them the Goddamn truth they would have swallowed that whole too, all po-faced and serious, nodding thoughtfully. I could have told them who I really was then and there; they were so nice, so courteous.

Imagine it:

Miss Polo Neck, I have climbed out from between your legs.

I am crafted from impure sediment. I am the thing that is bothering you. I have many names.




Screech owl




Queen of Windows

Thrower of Orgies


I am your pest, your very own, come forth from all your anxieties, your half-slept nights. From your dream trysts, from where you’d like to be. Oh, yes, I know about them, how you like to indulge yourself, press your hand between your legs and rub. I am from the dark recess of your other life, the life of your unspent lust. I know a thing or two about restlessness. Oh, yes. I am the one who fled. I left my own marriage bed. You don’t live as you wish to. You do not love your husband in the way he wants to be loved.

I am your very own thorn.
I am your itch.
 Open your legs wider, Miss Unfulfilled.

Instead, I wriggled on my chair and flashed my smooth underarms, and flashed a hint of cunt. I kept up my stories about Alabama.

But Miss Holy Tits fell back, removed herself from the conversation; wisely, she didn’t try to compete. She sipped her wine and watched and listened, and I began to grow suspicious. Only she, as women do, noticed my ears, studied them with interest, as she should have, for they are remarkable in the human realm. I never tried to hide my ears. She noticed the charm I was sculpting too, with the peanuts. I know she also found me sexy, all do. I am a spectacle, a work of art, a creature most humans never see in their lifetime. Some half-guess but never trust their intuition, what they plainly see, which is why I often showed off my attributes, my pretty pointy ears. No one ever thought me real or true and so I got away with it. Miss Charity Fuck sipped and stared and guessed half-right, but in the end I don’t read minds and was truly surprised by what she did next.

Bill flirted with me and she freakin’ watched. She didn’t put up a fight, despite her unhappy pussy, didn’t snatch him up possessively, which can happen, suggest they go home, take him away from me; she didn’t condescend to me outright. No, to my utter amusement, the little prig was also playing a game. And then Sebastian’s mobile phone erupted, a relief. He was slobbering over me. He walked away to take the call and then Miss Polo Neck did what no woman had ever done before. Giving me a tight, forced smile she excused herself, leaving me alone with her husband.

Lord, oh Lordy-Lord. Did I ever give the husband a fright. What a sensitive type, this tree of a man. I wanted to have him there and then, put my hand on his crotch, hold him secure in my soft, skilled hands and smile while he stiffened up. I wanted to drop to my knees and bury his cock in my mouth. The females of my race have all been schooled from an early age in the art of Eros. My people have consorted with the tantrikas of India, the mystic Sufis of the Middle East, the Daoists of China, the great witches and sexual magicians of Europe, and we have learnt the art of giving pleasure. We have perfected our own sexual magick. Poor Bill. Little Miss Chastity Belt had abandoned him.

To me.

Lightly, I touched my breast.
 Bill froze and stared.
He seemed mortified, longing to gaze at me, trying not to. He couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t say anything either; he was shocked and stunned and afraid of me. I smiled as I continued to caress myself, pretending nothing unusual was happening, acted all breezy and happy and all the while I unleashed the force of my nature.

The bar faded.



_MG_8817Monique Roffey is an award-winning Trinidadian-born writer. Her novels have been translated into five languages and short-listed for major awards including
the Orange Prize, Costa Fiction Award, Encore Award, Orion Award and the OCM Bocas Award for Caribbean Literature. In 2013, Archipelago won the OCM BOCAS Award for Caribbean Literature. Her memoir, With the Kisses of his Mouth, was published in 2011. She is a Lecturer on the MFA in the Novel at Manchester Metropolitan University. She divides her time between the East end of London and Port of Spain, Trinidad.


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Twitter: @MoniqueRoffey13

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Review time!

I try to post constructive and honest reviews of everything I read, usually on the Amazon UK and US sites, and on Goodreads.

As an author myself, I know how much a review means. Knowing someone read and enjoyed my story is always incredibly encouraging. And seeing reviews might tempt more people into reading it.

So, from time to time, I’ll share some of my recent reviews in a post here. Just like this one! I’ve included Amazon links, in case you’re curious to read the blurb and any reviews other readers have posted.



Mistress of the Air

Mistress Of The Air by S Nano

Four stars – A fun, light-hearted BDSM romp.

This is a fun book, combining steam-punk, BDSM, an over-the-top posh British lady, an upright aviator and a cast of other characters.

It’s a good book for dipping into, as there are a number of incidents (typically involving mayhem and a nice cup of tea) with, er, imaginative BDSM scenes as the airship travels from one location to another. Nothing heavy, nothing too dramatic, nothing literary – a fun easy read.

Amazon US – (for the UK, just type instead of com)


Jizziebelle: Belle of the Burlesque (Hardwood's Harlots Burlesque Romance Book 1) by [Crimson, Kat]Jizziebelle: Belle of the Burlesque (Hardwood’s Harlots Burlesque Romance Book 1) by Kat Crimson

Four stars – Well-written story with superheated steam

Found this to be an entertaining and very engagingly-written story. By taking a courageous leap in the dark and performing a saucy burlesque dance, Jocelyn overcomes her anxities and social phobias. Among the other performers, she finds a supportive community in which she can grow. Then she meets an attractive and intriguing man who has read her erotic fantasy writing. They make an instant connection and things get really, really steamy as they explore fantasies and red-hot sex. Jocelyn, self-aware and introspective, is an interesting character, and her narrative worked well for me.

Amazon US –


Taking Care Of Leah by [Howard, Charlotte]Taking Care of Leah by Charlotte Howard

Four stars – Nicely written erotic romance

I was rather impressed with this story. It’s fairly short, well-paced, and nicely balances the ratio of “story development” to “very steamy” scenes. And the steamy scenes are super-heated!

Both lead characters came across as realistic, having pasts they’re not totally proud of, nor keen to share with a new potential partner. And this causes some tensions as things pop out of the woodwork and have to be confronted.

I liked the real-life developing intimate relationship, where Ty is keen to encourage Leah into BDSM, and she’s curious to try it. The need to develop trust, respect and care is nicely woven into the storyline.

Amazon US –

Out Now – Abi’s Neighbour by Jenny Kane

Today, I’m helping fellow UK writer Jenny Kane. And as the story’s set in my part of the UK, I couldn’t resist the chance! I’ve read and enjoyed some of her work, which she published as Kaye Jaybee.

I’ve just pre-ordered a copy myself, as it sounds really entertaining. My review will be shared in due course. Why not treat yourself? Go on, you deserve it…

Out Now – Abi’s Neighbour by Jenny Kane (@jennykaneauthor)

Set in the picturesque Sennen Cove, Cornwall, Abi’s Neighbour is the sequel to the bestselling Cornish romance, Abi’s House. 

It’s time to catch up with Abi, Max, Beth, Jacob, Stan, and Sadie the Labrador- and meet some unexpected new faces…


Abi Carter has finally found happiness. Living in her perfect tin miner’s cottage, she has good friends and a gorgeous boyfriend, Max. Life is good. But all that’s about to change when a new neighbour moves in next door.

Cassandra Henley-Pinkerton represents everything Abi thought she’d escaped when she left London. Obnoxious and stuck-up, Cassandra hates living in Cornwall. Worst of all, it looks like she has her sights set on Max.

But Cassandra has problems of her own. Not only is her wealthy married lawyer putting off joining her in their Cornish love nest, but now someone seems intent on sabotaging her business.

Will Cassandra mellow enough to turn to Abi for help – or are they destined never to get along?

Complete with sun, sea and a gorgeous Cornwall setting, Abi’s Neighbour is the PERFECT summer escape.

Abi’s Neighbour can be read as a standalone novel, or as a follow up to Abi’s House.

Available in eBook and print from Amazon (universal link):


The untidy, clipboard-wielding woman started talking as soon as she climbed out of her Mini. ‘Hello, my name’s Maggie, and I’m from –’

Cassandra cut impatiently across the formalities. ‘Sennen Agents, obviously. It’s written across your car.’

‘Oh, yes. So it is.’ Maggie paused, ‘Anyway, I’m sorry I’m late, I got stuck behind a tractor down the lane.’ She jingled a key ring in front of her. ‘I have your keys, Miss Pinkerton.’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘I don’t?’ The estate agent frowned, looking away from the woman that stood before her in expensive couture with crossed arms and a far from happy expression. Flicking through the papers on her clipboard, Maggie said, ‘I was instructed by a Mr Justin Smythe that you would be accepting the keys on his behalf?’

‘I meant, no, my name is not Miss Pinkerton. It is Ms Henley-Pinkerton.’

‘Oh. I see.’ Maggie refrained from further comment as she clutched the keys a little tighter.

Determined to make sure the situation was clearly understood, Cassandra pulled her jacket on, turning herself back into the sharp-suited businesswoman she was. ‘In addition to your error regarding my name, there appears to have been a further mistake.’

‘There has?’

‘Mr Smythe has not purchased this property. He has merely rented it, with an additional agreement to sublet it as a holiday home. I am here for two months to make the place suitable.’ Cassandra ran a disdainful eye over the beautiful exterior stonework. ‘It would seem that my work is going to be well and truly cut out.’

‘This is a much sought-after street, Ms HenleyPinkerton. And this particular property is in excellent period condition.’ Feeling defensive on behalf of the old miner’s cottage, Maggie bit her tongue and flicked through her paperwork faster. Extracting a copy of the bill of sale, she passed it to the slim, angular blonde. ‘I think the misunderstanding must be yours. Mr Smythe has purchased number two Miners Row outright. It was a cash sale.’

Snatching the papers from Maggie’s fingers, Cassandra’s shoulders tensed into painful knots. Why hadn’t Justin told her he’d done this? She was convinced she was right. And anyway, he’d never deliberately make her appear foolish in front of a country bumpkin estate agent…  Yet as Cassandra scanned the document before her, she could see there’d been no mistake. Closing her eyes, she counted to ten, before opening them again to regard the badly dressed woman before her, who was once again holding out the offending set of keys.  Failing to take them, Cassandra gestured towards the little house.

‘Perhaps you would show me around, after I’ve made a call to Mr Smythe?’

Maggie, already feeling sorry for this unpleasant woman’s future neighbours, took unprofessional pleasure in saying, ‘Good luck with that call. The phone signal here is unpredictable to say the least.’

It had taken a ten-minute walk towards Sennen village to get a decent reception on her mobile phone, and then, when she’d been able to connect the call, Justin’s line was engaged. When she’d finally got through, she was more than ready to explode. ‘Justin! How could you have done this to me without a word? You’ve made me look a total idiot.’

Clearly thrilled that he’d managed to buy the terrace for a knock-down price – which, he’d claimed, was a far more economic use of their funds, an investment that would make them a fortune to enjoy in their retirement – he’d sounded so excited about what it meant for their future together that Cassandra had found it hard to remain cross. Assuring her that the situation remained the same, and that she was still only expected to stay in Cornwall while he secured his new position and got the wheels of the divorce in motion, Justin told Cassandra he loved her and would be with her very soon.

Returning to the terrace reassured, if lacking some of her earlier dignity, Cassandra swallowed back all the words she’d have liked to say as she opened the door and the gloom of the dark and narrow hallway enveloped her. She was sure that awful Maggie woman had been laughing at her. The agent had taken clear pleasure in telling her that if she hadn’t stormed off so quickly she’d have found out that the phone reception was excellent if you sat on the bench in the back garden.

Vowing to never drink champagne in any form ever again, as it clearly caused her to agree to things far too readily, Cassandra saw the next two months stretching out before her like a lifetime.  Letting out some of the tension which had been simmering inside her since she’d first seen the for sale sign, she picked up a stone and threw it at the back fence, hard. Maggie had gone, leaving her reluctant client sitting on an old weathered bench in the narrow rectangular plot at the back of the house.

Playing her phone through her fingers, Cassandra saw that there was enough reception to make calls if she sat in this spot – but only in this spot. One step in either direction killed the signal dead, which was probably why the previous owners had placed a bench here. And probably why they left this Godforsaken place!  The Internet simply didn’t exist here. When she’d swallowed her pride and asked Maggie about the strength of the local broadband coverage, the agent had actually had the audacity to laugh, before informing Cassandra with obvious satisfaction that people came to Sennen for their holidays to leave the world of emails and work behind them.

Breathing slowly, she pulled her shoulders back, pushed her long, perfectly straight blonde hair behind her ears, and took a pen and paper out of her bag. It looked as if she was going to have to tackle this, old school.

First she would make a list of what she considered necessary to make the house habitable for holidaymakers, then she would locate the nearest library or internet café so she could source decorators and builders to get the work underway. The sooner she got everything done, and herself back to hustle and bustle of London, the better.

Deciding there was no way she could sleep in this house, which Maggie had proudly described as ‘comfortable’, ‘sought-after’, and ‘ready to be made absolutely perfect’, Cassandra hooked her handbag onto her shoulder and headed back into the whitewashed stone house. Shivering in the chill of the hallway, despite the heat of the June day, she jumped in the silence when the doorbell rang just as she bent to pick up her overnight bag. For a second she froze. It had been years since she’d heard a doorbell ring. In her block of flats back home she buzzed people in via an intercom, and anyway, people never just dropped by. She hoped it wasn’t that dreadful Maggie back with some other piece of unwanted advice.

It wasn’t Maggie. It was a petite woman in paint spattered clothes, with a large shaggy dog at her side. Cassandra’s unwanted visitor wore a wide smile and held a bunch of flowers in one hand and some bedding in the other.  ‘Hello. My name’s Abi, I live next door. Welcome to Miners Row. I hope you’ll be very happy here.’

abis neighbour facebook ad


Jenny Kane is the author of the full length romance novels Another Glass of Champagne (Accent Press, 2015), Abi’s House (Accent Press, 2015), the contemporary romance/medieval crime time slip novel Romancing Robin Hood (Accent Press, 2014), the best selling contemporary romance novel Another Cup of Coffee (Accent Press, 2013), and its novella length sequels Another Cup of Christmas (Accent Press, 2013), Christmas in the Cotswolds (Accent, 2014), and Christmas at the Castle (Accent, 2015).

Jenny’s sixth full length romance novel, Abi’s Neighbour, was published on 4th May 2017.

Keep your eye on Jenny’s blog at for more details.



Jenny also writes erotica as Kay Jaybee and historical crime as Jennifer Ash.

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

So, this series I’m writing…

What series I’m writing? The “Merely Players” series of erotic romance novellas.

My idea is for a set of six stories following the developing three-way relationship between the main characters; Becky, Hayley and Paul. To date, three have been published:

  • Knights Errant (Merely Players 1)
  • The King’s Captain (Merely Players 2)
  • From The Top (Merely Players 3)

We first meet my characters in Knights Errant, when Becky and Hayley recruit Paul and his jousting team to work on a medieval-themed family TV show. Paul’s attracted to both women, and they both clearly like him. His lack of self-confidence makes it difficult for him to make the first move, but he just about manages it. The women agree to stay with Paul and his family at their farm for a couple of days. Becky and Hayley take matters into their own hands and drag him into bed for some lovely sex-play. The short time they share is enough to make him realise what’s missing from his life.

Knights Errant universal Amazon link

The King’s Captain continues the story, with Paul and Hayley as lovers, and starting work on the TV drama. And Paul suddenly realises how much of a novice he is. How can he portray a heroic leader when he’s got no idea what it is to be one? Being a nice guy, he feels very uncomfortable about Becky’s continued open interest in him. And he’s confused that Hayley isn’t in the least bothered. Not even when Becky arranges for the three of them to share a room while they’re on location. He enjoys sex-play with both of them, but feels more and more uncomfortable about the arrangement. Real life offers him terrifying lessons in courage and leadership when he and some friends are caught up in some very odd incidents, ones which feel almost supernatural. The storyline he’s improvising has uncomfortable parallels with his off-screen life and things come to a head. A friend in need helps him find the courage to ask the women what they want, and he finds their answer rather surprising.

The King’s Captain universal Amazon link

In From The Top, the three of them are working together on a new, slightly mad, family TV show written by Becky. This one involves an amateur Egyptologist (Hayley) and her guide (Paul) finding a lost temple and tomb, occupied by a high priestess, armed guards and a bad-tempered cursed mummy. This is Paul’s first all-studio show, working with a professional stunt team and other actors. Keen to avoid prurient media interest, they want to keep their developing three-way relationship private. Personality clashes and unwanted attention just add to his stress. But incredibly realistic dreams about nasty accidents, which allow him to avoid them? And the mummy on-set looks very, very realistic for a prop…

From The Top universal Amazon link

I’m working on the fourth story, have solid ideas for number five, and am letting my subconscious mind juggle ideas about for number six. There’s also a draft spin-off novel, which tells the story of two of Paul’s friends, and I’ve got some ideas for a second story too.

As a new writer, I know I’ve got a lot to learn. I’m very grateful to the team at Fireborn Publishing for their support and encouragement, and hope that my stories find enough readers to repay their confidence in me. I’ve had some really encouraging reviews to date on all three books, all four or five stars.