Motel Gothic is one of those books that takes a while to make all its connections but has a whole (pun intended) hell of a lot of fun getting there. WMotel Gothic is one of those books that takes a while to make all its connections but has a whole (pun intended) hell of a lot of fun getting there. We have 3 sketchy, desperate men willing to sacrifice one of their number in a game with the Devil; two assassins/lovers out to murder a witch for the mobster's girlfriend they tried to blackmail; and a lonely young man, still pining for the love who walked out on him, who crosses path with a very unlucky prostitute.
Wol-vriey weaves demonology, witchcraft, curses, and ghost stories into the seedy rooms of Motel Gothic, and just when you think it's reached the heights of blood and sacrifice, it makes a major turn into hedonistic and sadomasochistic sex. There's a very good reason for that turn, and there are a few very important connections to come out of it, but I honestly didn't see any of them coming, and I loved that.
After all that, I thought there was a very strong ending that tied up most of the loose ends, but then the story tries to close off one more plotline . . . and that, for me, just felt a little soft. Where the book could have ended on a sorrowful, sadistic sort of twist, it instead slides into dark humor and yet more violence that, at that point, has lost its power. Still a fun read, but I would have stopped it a few pages sooner....more
There is a ‘perfect’ foursome of books that have reigned over my shelves for years. While I am generally not one to indulge in rereads, these are the There is a ‘perfect’ foursome of books that have reigned over my shelves for years. While I am generally not one to indulge in rereads, these are the books that find their way back into my hands (and my imagination) every few years. Clive Barker’s Imajica is one of them; Kushiel’s Dart by Jacqueline Carey is another; Raptor by Gary Jennings is the third; and The Book of Shadows by James Reese is the last.
I freely admit, the first time I tried reading this, I abandoned it. It’s heavy with purple prose, it’s slowly and awkwardly paced, and trying to discern a linear plot is almost futile. And yet, something about it . . . something about Herculine and Sebastiana . . . about Madeleine and Father Louis . . . kept tempting me back for another attempt to find my way into its pages. It’s hardly a page-turner, not the kind of book you sit down with and breeze through over a weekend, but there is something wondrous to be said about a book that was written to be savored, lingered over, appreciated, and enjoyed as the mood strikes you. It’s a book that has never taken me less than a few months to read through, but it is one that I love more with each reread.
It is Herculine who drew me to the book, and Herculine in whom I become so much more emotionally invested with each read. She begins the book as a young orphan, and we watch as she grows up in a dark and drafty convent that teaches her to be afraid of her desires, ashamed of her body. Bereft of even the most basic compassion and understanding, she is left to struggle through shocking revelations about herself, coming to know herself as a witch and a hermaphrodite (intersex) through blood and confusion before being whisked away by a witch, a demon, an incubus, and a bloody ghost who lead her in the magical, mystical, journey towards her own erotic maturity. I loved how Reese dealt with first revealing and then exploring her gender, making it something substantial and significant, but never sensationalizing it. The way he bookends her blossoming with the awkward, taboo dabbling with another student in the convent early in the book against the more mature, compassionate affections of a professional lady late in the book is utterly beautiful in what it has to say about self-acceptance and empowerment.
This is a story both Gothic and sensual, blasphemous and erotic, a book that has been regularly compared to Anne Rice, but which is really more akin to Clive Barker. Like Rice, Reese deals with heavy themes of witchcraft and mythology, but like Barker he substitutes spirit and spirituality for the trappings and hypocrisy of Christianity. Yes, it meanders between subjects and often loses itself to longer and more frequent flashbacks, but once you begin to see the connections, once you realize how and why Herculine’s story is tied as much to Madeleine as Sebastiana – all three of them tied by tides of blood – the beauty of Reese’s intricate narrative weaves become apparent.
The Book of Shadows is a book that demands a lot of the reader, requiring an open mind as well as an open heart. It challenges our assumptions about faith and humanity as much as it does our expectations of narrative prose, and it asks us to be sympathetic not just to those ostracized from polite society but those damned by it as well. After years of scouring used bookstores I finally have copies of The Book of Spirits and The Witchery on my shelf, so the next time Herculine calls to me, it will be to continue her journey not begin it again.
Equal parts historical fantasy and Regency romance, with strong themes of female agency and empowerment, The Midnight Bargain was a beautifully writteEqual parts historical fantasy and Regency romance, with strong themes of female agency and empowerment, The Midnight Bargain was a beautifully written tale that deftly navigates women's magic and patriarchy. C.L. Polk builds a fabulous world here, familiar enough to be relatable and yet fantastic enough to convey a sense of wonder, populated by three pivotal characters with personality and chemistry between them.
Beatrice and Ysbeta are two young women, born of different classes and different societies, but united in their passion to pursue their dreams of sorcery, even as they're being paraded before the eligible bachelors of Bargaining Season. In many ways, it's a magical sort of commentary on how contemporary women are expected to sacrifice their dreams and careers for marriage, but the threat of a warded collar introduces an element of nauseous dread.
Connecting the two women is Ianthe, a young man who straddles an increasingly greater divide between familial duty, brotherly love, romantic love, and sympathy for the plight of women in their world. He's a progressive young man who listens, who cares, and who is genuinely interested in finding a way to preserve Beatrice and Ysbeta's dreams. He's such a good man, so different from those around him, that we find ourselves trapped in the same dilemma as Beatrice, enthralled by the idea of a near-perfect marriage, one that satisfies both love and duty, and yet knowing it's still a sacrifice she dreads being forced to make.
As much as I loved the exploration of that dilemma, I struggled with a plot twist late in the story that I felt crossed a line. In keeping with the Regency era and the patriarchal society of The Midnight Bargain, I understood the behavior of Beatrice's father up to that point. I didn't like it, and I most certainly didn't agree with it, but within the overall context, I understood it. However, there's a decision he makes to risk not just his daughter's happiness but potentially her life, and that was a betrayal too far for me. It was a deliberate choice that I could not excuse as merely being born of anger or desperation, and it soured me on any possibility for reconciliation.
That said, his deplorable actions do serve as a catalyst to throw caution to the wind, cast off the weight of social expectations and the collars that await, and commit to a plan born of desperation. I spent so much of the book wondering if/how Polk could possibly deliver a satisfying resolution, the actual finale surprised and delighted me in every way. For all its weighty issues and often deplorable realities of historical patriarchy, The Midnight Bargain is still an amusing and delightful read, one that's full of magic, humor, romance, and thrills, ultimately delivering on the promise of its premise.
If you are a regular reader of my reviews, then the name Terri Peterson should be instantly familiar to you. Whether it is the feminine sexuality of hIf you are a regular reader of my reviews, then the name Terri Peterson should be instantly familiar to you. Whether it is the feminine sexuality of her Le Cachot series or the dark transgender erotica of the Smeared Lipstick and Strange Little Girls sagas, she is an author I have had the great pleasure of watching develop through darker, deeper, more diverse stories and characters.
Claire, her latest, is both a continuation of those themes and a complete departure from them. There is no bondage or domination to be found here, no bending or blending of gender, and very little in the way of explicit sex. Instead, this is an increasingly unsettling tale of personal horror that makes something creepy of a love-at-first-sight romance.
Terri is one of those authors who always has a few surprises up her skirt, one who loves to corner the reader and then ambush them with a shocking twist - or two. Neither characters nor narrative are entirely trustworthy, and motivations are muddled at best. There is nothing simple or straightforward about her stories, and that is what I love about them.
Scott is the protagonist here, the hero or victim if you will, but he is hardly the everyman you might expect. He is a bit of a stalker, clearly has anger issues, and his lack of remorse over killing a man should raise a few red flags. The thing is, Claire is hardly a damsel-in-distress, and the more we learn about her, the more we begin to suspect Scott has met his match - in more ways than one.
Perhaps what I loved most here was the way Terri blends the mystery of who Claire is and what is really happening with Scott's wavering, fatalistic acceptance of the horrors around him. Something that is asked in a lot of Terri's books is whether it is okay to do bad things for good reasons, and that is what drives this more than anything. It is a wonderful work of horror, and one that deserves to be discovered by audiences both new and familiar.
The Raven and The Aspen King and The Wilderness Years close out The Dark Pool Trilogy by Monika Carless.
I went into the third book with slightly highThe Raven and The Aspen King and The Wilderness Years close out The Dark Pool Trilogy by Monika Carless.
I went into the third book with slightly higher expectations, knowing that the story would be wrapped up and that we would have answers to the 'why' and the 'how' between all the love and magic . . . and I was not disappointed. By this point, the characters - Aiden, Sahara, Holly, and Iona - are as vibrant as real friends and lovers, and their past selves are just as fascinating. While I almost resented the interference of the past in the first book, here I almost did not want to return to the present. I thought the way Carless closed the circle on the story, fulfilling expectations while still offering new surprises, was wonderful.
If you ever thought there was more to sex than just physical passion, ever felt there might be something magical about passion, then you owe it to yourself to immerse your heart and soul in the wanton wonder and wondrous witchcraft of The Dark Pool.
The Raven and The Aspen King and The Wilderness Years close out The Dark Pool Trilogy by Monika Carless.
I found the second book suffered a bit from tThe Raven and The Aspen King and The Wilderness Years close out The Dark Pool Trilogy by Monika Carless.
I found the second book suffered a bit from the lack of novelty, feeling very much like a middle book that deepened the plot and further developed the complex relationships, but it was still magical and romantic. It interweaves characters and stories across the ages, revealing more about who they are and who they once were. The mystical aspects are even more powerful in these subsequent volumes, and that makes the romance (and erotica) that much more intense.
If you ever thought there was more to sex than just physical passion, ever felt there might be something magical about passion, then you owe it to yourself to immerse your heart and soul in the wanton wonder and wondrous witchcraft of The Dark Pool.
The Dark Pool, the first book of a trilogy, is a magical, sensual story of romance and reincarnation. Touching upon a wide range of subjects, Monika CThe Dark Pool, the first book of a trilogy, is a magical, sensual story of romance and reincarnation. Touching upon a wide range of subjects, Monika Carless weaves her way through centuries of storytelling, exploring the impact and influence of past lives on the present. This is not a clichéd story of pointy hats and black cats, however, but one of pagan mysticism and spirituality.
It is the characters who make the story, men and women who live beyond the page and follow you into your dreams. They feel alive, full of passion and emotion, with personalities that sometimes feel more real than the strangers who cross our paths in real life. While many reviewers have focused on Aiden, singing the praises of a wonderful man and passionately creative lover, Richard is a wonderful character as well, and they are only pieces of a puzzle that (for me) gets more intimate and more interesting as Sahara brings in Holly and Iona.
The erotic scenes here are . . . well, almost hard to describe. They are explicit, and often use what many might consider to be tawdry language, but Carless uses contrasts to make it beautiful. We read words like 'whore' and 'milady' in the same sentence, and become entranced by scenes that talk of pagan energies and fire spirits, that place us amid circles and pentagrams, and then snap us into vulgarity again with the tug of a silver chains and erotic clamps. There is a ritualistic aspect to so much of the sexuality and I found that intensely arousing.
The narrative itself can be confusing, the type of novel that demands you sit and immerse yourself in the story, not just breeze through a few pages here and there, but it is also immensely satisfying. The past feels just as real as the present, and the contrast between what we might consider 'primitive' and contemporary kink is one of the most spectacular parts of the novel. We often forget that our generation did not invent kinks or fetishes, and that desire is just as much a mother of invention as necessity! Names and faces do sort of bleed across time, and even the character sometimes get lost in past lives or roles, but that is part of the magic.
With a little luck, and perhaps a little magic, I will wrap up The Raven and the Aspen King (Holly, Sahara and Iona, all in love with a man who’s crossed centuries to find them) and The Wilderness Years (While falling deeper in love, Sahara, Aiden and Holly continue to unravel the pieces of their ancient story) this month, and I cannot imagine a better time to indulge than the spooky season that owes so much of its own magic to witchcraft.
The Vampire of Blackpool is my first taste of Catherine Green's unique brand of supernatural horror and paranormal romance, and it most certainly willThe Vampire of Blackpool is my first taste of Catherine Green's unique brand of supernatural horror and paranormal romance, and it most certainly will not be my last.
This opens edgy and dark, with Meredith Hanson, a reclusive author who is really a centuries-old vampire, dumping the bodies of her latest two victims in the ocean. She is old, bored, and looking for a challenge. She is not so much careless as she is carefree, taking risks in the hopes that somebody might bring some excitement into her life.
Enter Samantha Morris, an adorable little witch who is passionate, romantic, and fierce. Their relationship is an awkward one at first, almost accidental in how they keep coming together, but there is a surprising romance there that works precisely because of the opposites-attract vibe.
The other person who arrives on the scene to bring that excitement is Ryan James, a vampire hunter. While Meredith was looking for someone like him, a worthy adversary to give her life some color again, coming on the heels of Samantha's insertion into her life creates a dilemma for a vampire now trapped between passions.
Less a love triangle and more a love affair threatened by outside forces, The Vampire of Blackpool worked equally well as both a romance and a horror novel, with Green never shying away from what it means to be a vampire. I loved the characters here, the atmosphere, and the hints of deeper world building that I am sure are more fully delivered on in her Redcliffe Novels. This could have gone soft, with a contrived happy ending for all, but I loved the way it came together in the end.
I am officially bitten and ready to slake my thirst with Return of the Vampire Hunter next!
There was so much to love about The Witches of Gloucester that I hardly know where to begin. Actually, I guess I do. Before I get to the wonderful stoThere was so much to love about The Witches of Gloucester that I hardly know where to begin. Actually, I guess I do. Before I get to the wonderful story and characters created by Lisabet Sarai, I have to say a few words about Lorraine Walters, who made them come alive in the audiobook version. Walters tells the story beautifully, from her pacing to her tone, and imbues each personality with a voice. I often struggle to lose myself in a narrator's voice, but here it felt natural.
As for the always lovely Lisabet Sarai, she has crafted the perfect fantasy of feminine magic, love, and empowerment. Marguerite and Beryl, the witches who watch over the ocean-side town just 20 miles away from infamous Salem, are just wonderful. They are bold, happy, confident women, as closely attuned to the tides of nature as they are to those of the heart. They are a bit mysterious, and can be almost frighteningly assertive when the situation calls for it, but they are genuinely warm and funny.
Emmeline is the much younger woman who comes to their attention, not just a delectable plaything for their Sapphic amusement, but potentially the missing third to their witch's circle. She is so beautifully written that watching her give herself unto her power is almost as delightful as watching her give herself unto her loving teachers. As much as magic and destiny play a part here, this is not a tale of insta-love and insta-lust. Emmeline doubts herself, fears her power, and fights her own arousal, afraid to trust in its truths. Even after her first passionate evening with Marguerite and Beryl, she still struggles to understand her place in this new world.
What struck me most about the story, however, is the way in which Sarai makes Gloucester a part of the story. This is a story that is sprinkled with the language of the ocean, and drenched in imagery of water. Waves, tides, peaks . . . swimming, floating, drowning . . . everything that happens does so in proximity to either the language of water or the setting of the ocean. I cannot count how many times I surfaced from the story to marvel over a turn of phrase or just luxuriate in a particular image. It is a book where the telling of the story is as beautiful as the story itself.
The Witches of Gloucester is just about everything I could have asked of a fantasy about lesbian witches. It has characters to love, a setting that you can see and smell, magic that crackles upon the page, and an eroticism that resonates deep within heart, soul, and body. I would gladly read a massive doorstop of a novel about these women, and do hope Sarai crosses their circle again.
The Marketplace is one of those fictional worlds that you can only dream of, an organization that you know is not real, but desperately wish could be.The Marketplace is one of those fictional worlds that you can only dream of, an organization that you know is not real, but desperately wish could be. It is a secret society of slaves, submissives, owners, Masters, and Mistresses, one of complete and utter commitment, but also one of rules and codes of conduct.
There are 6 novels in The Marketplace series, the original No Safewords short story anthology, and now the No Safewords 2 follow-up anthology, edited by Laura Antoniou (with a lovely introduction from her wife, Karen Taylor). If you are a fan of Laura's world, then you will love revisiting it through other eyes, and if you are new to The Marketplace, this is a great place to begin.
There are 18 stories here, from a variety of authors, covering a wide range of genders, sexualities, and BDSM roles. A few of the stories that stood out for me were:
The Adventure of the Bowing Doctor by S. Daithi was an absolutely wonderful bondage-themed take on the Holmes/Watson relationship that immediately grabs your attention. It remains true to the characters we know and love, incorporating their original eccentricities, but which delves deeper into their shared pain and dependence.
Olivia by Erzabet Bishop was a touching, powerful story about what happens when a Master is reaching the end of his life, and how he ensures that his slave continues to be taken care of, even if she does not understand why she must be trained and sold. I cried so hard for her.
“You are more than worthy, my dear. I have been a blessed man to have been able to help you achieve your goals of becoming a slave.” He tenderly wiped the tears from her cheek, and as she looked up, she could have sworn she saw moisture glittering in His eyes as well.
Rain Dog by LN Bey was perhaps the most interesting story in the collection, exploring the desperate attempts of an unworthy slave to win her way back into the organization. It is a dark and edgy story, one with a lot of tension, that I found myself drawn into.
Isis of 10,000 Names by Steve Dee was, far and away, my favorite story in the collection - one that I reread a second time when I was done with the book. It fuses ancient mythology with contemporary subcultures, exploring asexuality, tantric sex, fairies, chastity, and transgender issues.
Unlike some pagan groups that got caught up in some sort of dead-end belief about what it meant to be a real woman, the temple recognized the Goddess could be made manifest in anyone, whatever their biological sex at birth.
Something More by Dani Hermit & Nevi Star put a fantastic spin on traditional bondage and monster erotica themes, exploring a bookish tentacle beast by the name of Eugene who would rather submit that master others with his appendages. I loved this one so much!
Second Opinion by Madeline Elayne is a story I nearly skipped over, as soon as I came to understand what a grudge slave is, but it won me over with the tenderness, respect, and care, with emphasis put on recovery and downtime. It is a side of slavery and ownership that some readers might find distressing, but it is done so well, and with such humanity, that I loved it.
Prospect by Moxie Marcus is such a simple tale, one about the preparation of a new slave for sale at The Marketplace, but I loved the crossdressing elements, and the way it brings a former motorcycle rider full circle is a lovely touch.
He took the stockings and waist cincher without a sound. Other slaves may have needed reminded that they wore their clothing at their owner’s pleasure, but he had never required that to be explained.
650.13 by Caraway Carter was another of those stories that impressed me with its approach, exploring an older, heavier gentleman who only asked to be trained in order to be sold to one man, who changed his mind, leaving him questioning his place and his worth. I loved the idea of being bought by a couple, and that scene of dual pleasure at the end . . . oh my!
I could keep going. I could find a few words to say about every story here, but I have to wrap up my review somewhere. Truly, there is not a single bad story in No Safewords 2, a collection that speaks to all readers, whether they wear collars or wield whips.
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