Tag Archives: erotica

Self’s Blossom by David Russell (Book Showcase)

A romantic, erotic tale of a vivid portrayal of the quest for the inner truth, empowerment and sexual liberation of Selene, a woman searching for primeval abandon and reckless adventure.

Intelligent, a university graduate and a successful careerist, Selene became emotionally scarred by unhappy relationships. Riled and taunted through the years by her former college roommate Janice, Selene gave in to the long-term desire to ‘get one back’ at Janice by having a passionate holiday encounter. Immediately drawn to the sea and enthralled by its brutal yet sensual waves, Selene seduces a young boy on a deserted beach. Once she comes to meet the mature and powerful Hudson, Selene finally begins to claim her sensual destiny.

Through a slow process, accentuated by Selene’s shyness, introspection and circumspection, she embarks on a long and elaborate interplay of leading on and rejection. The volcanic passion builds until there is a blazing row. A possible drowning, the final ritual undressing at long last, leads to the ultimate flowering of the woman Selene was meant to be.

Included in Self’s Blossom are: Blossom Reburgeoning Selene, a little older but still well-preserved, decides to retrace the steps of her holiday. Up-to-date in spirit, she procures a companion through the Internet, and in the key scenes, she opts for alternatives to the choices she made on her first expedition. She feels enriched by her experience, and her sense of satisfaction removed her inhibitions from expressing her bisexuality.

Spatial Dimensions Selene becomes so fascinated by the Moon Goddess that bears her name, that she imagines and wills herself into becoming a goddess, to go on an etherial quest, embracing space and time travel, with concomitant ecstatic fulfilment.

Sci fi embraces ancient mythology!

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Selene Reverie

As the sky turned a deep purple, seared by the moon’s beaming clarity, Selene’s room expanded. The walls pulled back, the ceiling rose, and the floor lowered to make a gigantic suite, richly carpeted and curtained in the deep, late twilight. There were lots of tables and cupboards but plenty of room to manoeuvre. With a flourish of the deep-green curtains, her young, slim, tanned lover tiptoed in through the balcony window, wearing khaki shorts and a white singlet. Selene unbuckled the shorts and pulled them down, stripping him down to black bathing trunks so that he, in style, could help her off with her rustling, glistening, shimmering ball gown. With gentle, knowing hands, he undid her back zip and then turned to face her. He unclasped the waist to part the airy dress until gravity drew it down to caress the carpet as a parabola, a floral parachute. Two-way unrobing, active and passive interlocked by two pairs of deft hands, while in the background, in reverie, water lapped, linking dream and wakefulness. Dreams can be worked out and realized, she thought. If things are well prepared and drawn out, the most could be made of them. The way could be paved for every touch. Grateful for her full wardrobe, Selene could hold herself in reserve until the time was ripe. She knew how to take her time with what she did and what she showed, control it all completely. Full-dress, half-dress, undressall the garments she had she could use to draw, to thrust, and to parry. Let nobody approach her who was not adequate, nor let anyone fail to respond to her or cool his response in a way she did not care for.

All these thoughts invigorated Selene, and a full-length mirror called her to practice her postures. The negligee fell aside. On went her dark-blue, lacy underwear, a pale-blue slip, and over it, her evening dress. She moved around gently, making the dress rustle, then swirled on her left foot. The skirts rose high; her shapely limbs feasted her eyes at three angles. After the rise and fall, she undid it with ease, stepped over it to avoid crushing and picked it up and returned it to its hanger. The underwear was laid neat and flat on the bedside chair. Irons and airing cupboards could singe and scald if turned up too high, but within their limits, they formed a prelude and a backdrop to the finest caresses.

As the neon-looking sunray lamp played with her skin, thoughts of him wafted again into Selene’s mind. Whoever it was, she sensed that she had seen him already without fully registering him. At this very moment, he must be surveying himself in an identical mirror―slender, muscular and lovely, proud and supple in his new trunks, making ready for the hotel pool or for the private beach, to meet for their first tense introduction in undress. A telepathic answer must be given to that gesture. Selene snapped off the lightnot wishing then and there to see herself fully nude in the mirror. She dived into the drawer, reaching for her mauve, one-piece bathing costume. This she pulled on, feeling an exhilarating double sense of revelation and concealment. On went the light again. Now she would be the adjudication panel of her own beauty contest. The costume smoothed the curves and magnetized what it covered. Her exercising had paid off. Her beauty was near completion in her own eyes. Tomorrow, maybe, the real process would begin. She changed back into her negligee, accepting its allure and functional comfort. Tomorrow she would appraise the selection. There were, perhaps, different standards of men fitted for affairs of briefer or longer durationa sliding scale of transitory compatibility.


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Ryan Field, Amazon Reviewer, 5

Self’s Blossom, by David Russell, is one of those romantic, erotic tales of discovery that’s filled with detailed imagery, well-defined characters, and scenes that are loaded with emotion. Selene is portrayed well as a vibrant main character, and I fell in love with her from the start. The organized mix of realism combined with escapism had me respecting her throughout the entire book, which is extremely important in any erotic romance. This is a very well-written book, with a distinct literary flair, where careful attention is paid to intelligent (and again, very well-written) dialogue that is constantly moving the story forward. The settings are described so well, in fact, I thought I was on holiday myself. The characters are crafted with such detail I felt as if I knew them. And when I was finished reading, I knew they would remain with me for a long time.

 

Mimi Barbour, Amazon Reviewer, 4⭐
 
In ‘Self’s Blossom’ our heroine, Selene, is on a journey both literally and figuratively. She’s very introspective and by David Russell’s eloquent prose style of writing, we get to feel everything she feels as she makes this journey of self-discovery. The words take one’s complete attention, no skimming allowed or you miss the essence of what the author is trying to say. The two heroes, both the young lad and Hunter the older fellow are well portrayed. But this book is really about Selene and her search. It is erotica – but not in any way the average type of sexy book you’re used to. This is poetry!

 

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Born in the UK, 1940. David has been writing erotica since the mid-1980s. Published extensively in magazines and anthologies (including anthologies from Forward Press in Peterborough UK.

Book Publications ‘Prickling Counterpoints’ (Selected Poetry & Prose), Deadline Books 1998, ‘Romantic Undress’ (Erotic Poetry & Prose) JazzClaw Publications 2000. Current romantica/erotica publications are ‘Self’s Blossom’ (novella), and ‘Explorations’ (short story), published by Devine Destinies; ‘Therapy Rapture’ (poetry, prose and artwork) published by Rose Dog Books. Forthcoming are two short stories, ‘My Dream of Madonna/An Ecstatic Rendezvous’, to be published by XoXo Publishing.

Also recorded singer-songwriter: vinyl album, ‘Bricolage’ recorded by Billy
Childish for Hangman Records 1992; CD albums ‘Bacteria
Shrapnel’ and ‘The Burglars of
Britain’ (1998)
 
www.davidrussell-author.blogspot.co.uk

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Welcome to BB’s: A Sex Shop Series Novella by Tracy A. Ball

Paperback: 159 pages

Lizzy didn’t know why her friends were broke, anti-social, and content to remain that way. Until her birthday, when they chipped in and got her a sample package.It came with a coupon…

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Snippet:

Lizzy’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the light tap on the door. Here we go. Her heart almost stopped when she opened it.

Leaning against the doorframe, Javier filled the space. His eyes were hazel with amber flecks of fire. His broad shoulders gave the T-shirt a pleasurable stretch. The hand he had casually blocking his groin didn’t hide a thing. His stance left her no doubt of his confidence. And the stud in his left ear—a silver heart—was a total turn on. “Sorry for keeping you waiting, pretty lady.” He brushed by her and took command of the room. 

Lizzy didn’t know what to do with herself. She wasn’t squeezing a rubber dick in front of him. 

“You look like you could use a drink.” Javier relieved himself of a small backpack, Lizzy hadn’t noticed. “Let me make you one and we’ll get started.”

“Uhhh…okay…” Lizzy couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think. She stood there watching him mix drinks. 

When he finished, he held up a cold cloudy beverage, garnished with a slice of lime. “Gimlet. Gin, lime, and a little sweetener. It’s an easy sipper. To relax and inspire you.” He gave her one glass, and caught hold of her fingers, leading her to the sofa. He sat beside her, close, touching her hand.

Lizzy had a sip. Then she had another because she was nervous and couldn’t help herself. “It’s good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He drank his own.

Oh damn. He had a dimple. 

“So, uhh…how does this work? What should I be doing?”

“Enjoy your drink. We’ll hang out and chat until you’re comfortable. Then we can do whatever you want.”

Having a drink was definitely a good idea. It might have been the gin/champagne combo.  More likely, it was him, but Lizzy believed she was already starting to buzz. “So you’re a sex shop tour guide. How long have you been doing this?”

“This is my first and only tour.”

“No.”

“It is.”

Something about his confession—if it were the truth—encouraged her. She felt less embarrassed than she would be with an old-hand. He didn’t have an arsenal of tired sell-lines to throw at her. She leaned into him without realizing it. “Why would this be your only tour?”

He drank his gin. “I’m here for you. It’s all I’m good for.”

She watched him weave his fingers through hers. 

“You don’t even know me.”

“I’m learning.”

Having put all her energy into stressing over the sex shop visit itself, Lizzy was unprepared for the shock he gave her hormones. Her skirt had risen a half-mile higher than it needed to be. Damn peppermint. It put her in the mood to make-out…with a total stranger…with a pipe in his lap…

Say something, say something, say something…“Do you guys really sell souped-up sex dolls?” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but she wanted to know.

“I’m not familiar with the term, souped-up. But, I imagine it would be self-flattery coming from me.” The bright amber flecks in his eyes lit up his face. “And, while we don’t consider ourselves sex dolls, a large portion of what we do would suggest it. I believe the answer would be affirmative.” 

It had to be the gin. “Pardon me?”

“I’m a souped-up sex doll.”

She burst out laughing. “I meant the supposed robots.”

Javier leaned over and whispered in her ear, “That is a conflicting response.”

It was a straight sentence, no hidden meanings or innuendos. But his breath in her ear made her wet her panties.

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Gimlet

(review request submitted by the author for an honest critique) 

 

My jaw is still dragging the floor after reading Welcome to BB’s. 

If you can forget Lizzie is having wild sex with a very, very, VERY  enhanced robot, then the sex scenes were off the charts hot. 

Javier is not your typical robot. He looks real, feels real, and has thoughts and emotions. However, there is no mistaking he is not human. First and foremost, he’s price tag was no joke — $350,000 with no upgrades!

There were several instances where I laughed, though.  

  • He had a magical schlong. It literally shot out Gimlet (a cocktail). His tongue also released liquor from it. 
  • His ‘member’ can also shrink, deflate, or grow in size, depending on Lizzie’s pleasure and which hole he was about to or in the process of occupying. What a nifty trick!
  • Boris was a cad. Love that guy! 

I know sexbots are a real thing. I know they are becoming more realistic with each new model. I’m not sure if I would shell out or take a loan out for one, but there’s no harm in taking a tour of the shop. Now is there… *wink wink*

 

Heart Rating System:

1 (lowest) and 5 (highest) 

Score:  ❤1/2

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Made entirely of rum and snacks–International Bestselling Author, Tracy A. Ball is a native Baltimorean and veteran West Virginian, whose family is a mashup of cultures. She writes real and raw interracial romance with an intensity that burns because she has been busting stereotypes while teaching interracial/generational healing for more than a quarter of a century.

Tracy engages with folks from every twist of fate and all manner of experience. She has hung out with murderers and dined with people who have dined with the Pope, which is why she needs the rum…and a nap.

Her published works include: Blood Like Rain, Welcome to BBs, The Other Shore, Death’s Desire, Big Guns & Bullsh@t, “Imogene’s Flowers,” “Thorns,” “Black’s Magic” “Truly, Madly, Kiss Me,” “Cumberland Christmas,” Civil Warriors, Dragonfly Dreams, “An Angel with Dirty Wings,” “Tsarina,” KAYOS: The Bad & The Worse, The Tiger & The Snake, The Right Way to Be Wrong, “Left on Marriottsville,” “The Train Ride,” Mail Duty, White Russian Lies.

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Viktor by Sarah Marsh (Book Showcase)

Evernight Publishing (June 20, 2017)

Cover Art: Jay Aheer

When the heroes have reputations like these, who needs a villain?

 

Have you ever read a fairy tale and wondered why the goody two-shoe Princes and Princesses were always the ones who got their happy endings?

Pandora is a Fairy Godmother who’s never fit in with her own people. Still, she has the power—and the attitude—to step in and help those who others have decided “aren’t worthy” of a happy ending. How hard could it be to manipulate some of the most feared beings in their world?

Viktor has spent his entire undead life being the bogeyman to the paranormal community, and that’s the way he wants to keep it … with everyone else far away from him. But when the opportunity arises to take his revenge on his nemesis, he can’t resist—even if it means risking his reputation and rescuing the damsel in distress.

Halle never expected to find herself in need of a savior, especially one with a reputation like Viktor’s. But she’s used to listening to her instincts, and her cat trusts the strange woman who pops up and claims to have some solutions. After all, if a girl can’t trust her own Fairy Godmother, then what is this world coming to?

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“I mean you no harm, lady. You can go. I’m only here for what’s in the car,” he said slowly walking towards her. She was a cute little thing, all soft curves with golden skin and hair.

“Ummm, yeah, about that … I’m what’s in the car, Mr. Krescech. You have to take me with you out of here,” she said almost nervously, those big green eyes pleading with him.

Clearly, she was also insane. What was with the women he was running into this week? Viktor had had more than his fair share of groupies throwing themselves at him in the bars, wanting to take a walk on the wild side for a few hours, but this wholesome little beauty certainly didn’t look like the type, so he had no idea exactly what she was asking him for.

“I don’t think so,” he said, moving past her towards the open back door to search the car.

“Seriously, there’s nothing else in the car. They were taking me from my family and my pard to be married to Conrad. I have to go with you to get away from him,” she continued, putting her tiny little hands on her very curvy hips in a way that distracted him far more than it should have.

Interesting, so this little number was a leopard shifter? Viktor hadn’t really had any interaction with the pard in this country, but by reputation, they were a good lot. Why on Earth would she agree to marry Conrad?

“I don’t rescue damsels in distress. I eat them,” he said with a flash of fang. “So run along, little kitten.”

The tiny spitfire threw her hands dramatically up in the air and sighed loudly.

“You just saved me from a life of baby-making slavery. Aren’t you supposed to whisk me away to your super-secret villain lair and ravish me? Sheesh, where’s your follow-through?”

Viktor just stood there and stared at her for a moment. He didn’t know whether to laugh at her ridiculous statement or take her up on her offer and bend her over right here on the trunk of Conrad’s car. He was extremely turned on by the fact that she didn’t seem the least bit afraid of him. He’d always tried to pretend that his reputation in the paranormal community pleased him, that it helped him by keeping the rabble away. But deep down it bothered him that everyone always thought the worst of him. His honor was just yet another thing that Melisandre and Conrad had stolen from him when they took his mortality.

“Don’t you know who I am, woman?” he finally said as she just stood there looking at him expectantly.

“Yes, I know who you are. Who else is capable of keeping me out of Conrad’s douchy hands?” she said sounding a little impatient.

“Don’t you have a family you can go to?” he asked, still wondering why he was even standing here talking to her.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Once she’d said the word “slavery” he knew he couldn’t leave her to Conrad’s tender mercies. Viktor knew more about slavery than he ever wanted to, and no being should ever be held against their will. That and he had seen firsthand what Conrad enjoyed doing to women. It still sickened him to think back to the horrors he’d had to witness as Melisandre’s pet.

“If I go back to my family they’d just have to hand me right back over to him again. My pard owes him a blood debt, and I am the payment. I need this to look like Conrad’s men lost me in the confrontation with you. This needs to be his fault, as otherwise, it will start a war between my family and his coven,” she said, stepping ever closer.

She stood so close now that Viktor could smell the strawberry and coconut scent of her shampoo. Good Gods, she smells good enough to eat.

“Why would you think that I should care whether or not this starts a war for your people? I will not be fighting in it,” he answered, trying to sound like he didn’t care one way or another.

“Because I think that you hate Conrad just as much, if not more than I do, and there’s nothing he wants more than to possess me,” she answered quietly, her huge green eyes staring right into his grey ones.

She was right of course. There was no one on this Earth that he hated as much as he hated Conrad. That’s what he told himself anyway when he ultimately decided he would take the girl with him—whether it was the whole truth about his motivations or not.

“First, tell me how your pard was thoughtless enough to enter into a blood debt with a killer like Conrad?”

“It’s not like we had any choice. My father was jumped one night by a bunch of rogues, and Conrad just happened to be there to offer his assistance … for a price.”

The venom in her voice clearly stated that she suspected they’d been set up. The rogues were most likely paid to attack by Conrad himself. It was a trick the coward had used over and over again.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “You can come with me, but just until we find somewhere to stash you that Conrad cannot reach you.”

“Thank you!” she said with a squeal just before she reached up and hugged him before he could stop her. “I’m Halle, by the way.”

Clearly, his reputation was never going to recover from this if anyone saw him being hugged in the alley, but with her luscious frame leaning against his, smelling so sweet, he had a difficult time finding a reason to care.

 

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Sarah Marsh was born in British Columbia where she still lives, she has only recently began her writing career finding it the perfect outlet for taking the edge off a nine to five office job. She’s been a science fiction and romance junkie for years and when her imagination started to take the characters she’d read about even further in their adventures she decided to try writing something of her own.

Sarah’s also a former pastry chef and spends a lot of time cooking and baking for friends and family as well as painting and knitting. Her biggest weaknesses are animals of any kind…she even loves the ones that wake you up at four in the morning because they can almost see the bottom of their food dish.

When it comes to life in general she’s a big believer that laughter is the best medicine and that there’s no such thing as too much love, which is why she’s such a sucker for a happy ending.

 

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Lion Her Ass Off: Blue Valley Shifters Book 2 by Sarah Marsh (Book Review)

Just like any other shifter, Julie always imagined meeting her mate and living happily ever after with the charming male of her dreams. Nothing could have prepared her for the shitstorm that was about to become her love life. With her luck though, shouldn’t she have expected it?

Hector has lived his life knowing that he’d become Alpha of Blue Valley one day. Turns out, acting like you always have it together and living it? Well, those are two very different things. He panicked when he first realized that his sister’s best friend was his mate, now he must rise to the occasion in hopes that he can salvage the rest of his life—but no pressure.

Deacon had no idea what fate had in store for him with a new start in Blue Valley, meeting his mate and her ‘plus one’ wasn’t it. These two are so mixed up in the past it seems almost impossible to make things right and move forward. Good thing he’s a professional.

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(review request submitted by the author for an honest critique) 


Julie, Deacon, and Hector had undeniable heat in Lion Her Ass Off. Their mating sessions were off the charts hawt. However, those scenes didn’t steal my breath like the exchange between Hector and Julie in Chapter Twelve

 

(Hector to Julie)   “…I don’t want to ever be the reason that you have to be strong. I want to be one of the reason why you are strong.”

If that doesn’t make your heart skip a beat, then I don’t know what will. 

Strong dialogue + strong chemistry +well-balanced characters + humor = a mighty, fine ass read with mighty, fine ass looking shifters. 

 

Heart Rating System:
1 (lowest) and 5 (highest) 
Score:  ❤❤❤❤1/2

 

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Sarah Marsh was born in British Columbia, she’s only recently began her writing career finding it the perfect outlet for taking the edge off a nine to five job. She’s a science fiction and romance junkie and when her imagination started to take the characters she’d read about even further in their adventures she decided to try writing something of her own.

Her biggest weaknesses are animals of any kind…she even loves the ones that wake you up at four in the morning because they can almost see the bottom of their food dish.

When it comes to life in general she’s a big believer that laughter is the best medicine and that there’s no such thing as too much love, which is why she’s such a sucker for a happy ending.

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Author Showcase / BOOK GIVEAWAY – Beatrice DeSoprontu (Vices/Virtues)

If you love FREE BOOKS or books signed by the author, then you came to the right place.

Beatrice DeSoprontu is gifting A COPY of  Vices/Virtues.

If you reside in the continental United States, you are eligible to WIN a  SIGNED PRINT COPY of this naughty but nice tale.  

However, due to shipping costs, if you live outside the continental United States, you’ll be gifted  a kindle copy. 

To enter, all you have to do is leave Beatrice a comment or question on her  feature from NOW until FRIDAY (November 15th) 11:59 p.m., central time

On SATURDAY (November 16th), I will randomly select a winner, and their name will be announced on a comment. 

PLEASE FOLLOW the blog posting so you will receive a notification when I make the happy announcement.

The winner will have until November 21st to claim their prize. If a prize goes unclaimed, then another contestant will be selected. 

Scroll down to get a glimpse at the prize and remember….. ENTER TODAY

 

~ PRIZE ~

A sexy, erotic novel with heart, Vices/Virtues is a testament to the beauty of life, love and family.

Cristela was bred to be the perfect liar. By day, Cristela is a good-girl poster child. By night, Mistress Clara masters the hidden erotic realm of an S&M dungeon. With her knack for duplicity things should work smoothly except for one complication – friendship. The quirky array of fellow dominatrices at the dungeon are nothing like the stereotypes she expected. Divided between her affection for the girls at the dungeon and her desire to keep her fetish activities secret, Cristela fears her two worlds are colliding. Can Cristela break her history of deceit? In a world of vices and virtues, salvation isn’t something you find, it’s a path you make.

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* Excerpt from “Prudence” Chapter 2 of VICES/VIRTUES *

 

Until I became an adult, I was Cristela Maria Davila, the daughter of Alfredo and Griselda Davila, a Puerto Rican couple who lived in the neighborhood of Jackson Heights, in the borough of Queens, in the city of New York. Soon after marrying, the young couple set up house and Alfredo got a well-paid job as a construction worker. A year after their wedding, my older brother Alex was born. Two years after Alex, I came into the world. Sadly, shortly after my birth, Alfredo suffered a massive heart attack and passed away. I’ve always pictured the moment the heart attack came. Slumping over the pounding jackhammer he was holding, Alfredo lost his grip, causing both man and machine to tumble to the dusty ground.

All of it was a lie.

 

It was never my aspiration to work in a dungeon. I — real name Cristela, not Clara — already had a day job working at Winchester Court, a four-tower apartment complex on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. The property boasts an indoor garage, sky deck, a fully equipped gym, sauna and an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Most importantly, it has 1,477 separate apartments, which means that every month, over 100 units are either vacated or renewed. I worked as an apartment shower — a person who is kept on call to tour interested parties around the giant labyrinth. By the way, that’s “show-er” as in someone who shows off the apartment complex to prospective tenants, not “shower” the bathroom fixture. Unfortunately for my resume, both words are spelled the same…

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Beatrice De Soprontu began writing at the age of four, when she scribbled on the walls with a crayon. Now an adult, she mostly scribbles on her home computer surrounded by her noisy children and their less noisy father. Born and raised in New York City, (which includes: Queens, Bronx, Brooklyn, maybe even Staten Island – a.k.a. the real New York and not the tourist trap that is Manhattan), she enthusiastically travels the world on a budget whenever she gets the chance.

 

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Now that you’ve checked out the prize and met the author, don’t forget to 

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