Selling like hot cakes


I couldn’t help myself, I just had to write another werewolf story. But I got a little bored with writing about female humans and male werewolves. I wanted to put a gay man in front of a werewolf instead. I also went for a monster werewolf this time around, rather than the romanticized werewolf our erotica readers are familiar with today. It was an experiment. I wanted to see if I could execute something that was unusual for me. To my pleasant surprise, Kneeling before the Wolf has been this week’s top seller.

I’ve mentioned that my billionaire mmf story was an unexpected bestseller for me (and still is, even though Kneeling before the Wolf has pulled ahead this week). I thought it was because it intersected gay and billionaire, which are two popular sub-genres. But my lesbian stories have been selling very well, which is not known to be a popular category. So what gives? After giving it some thought this week, I have come to the conclusion that the answer may have been simpler than I realized. I remember writing Billionaire’s Boy Toy and really enjoying it. Same goes for my lesbian stories, and Kneeling. I love lesbians; I love gay men.

Trying to be successful as a self-publishing author is very hard. There is a lot of strategy involved. I’ve read a lot of blog posts about choosing tags carefully, following the Top 100 lists, and so-on, trying to see how to get my stories into the hands of my readers. I have 23 titles out now, and I’ve tried all those little tricks. But the sales of my just-for-fun stories always float to the top, regardless of promotion and whatever else. So maybe gay billionaires and gay werewolves are a gold mine, who knows? It certainly helps if you actually enjoy writing about it, too. The enjoyment shows in your words, and you are passing that enjoyment to your readers.

And of course, yet another new release. A while back when I was a bicurious high schooler, I wrote stories about best friends getting down and dirty at sleepovers. I’ve pulled this one out of the vault and polished it off, made it a little more dirty, and of course, made it clear that the besties involved are 18 years old. This is my baby, One Last Night.


This took me way back. I remember how fun sleepovers used to be. I’ve never had lesbian sex with any of my friends, of course, but it’s a fun fantasy to think about.


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