Friday, 13 July 2012

'The Megan Affair - Part One' sample



My latest offering to the world of erotic fiction 'The Megan Affair - Part One', has been receiving some excellent reviews on Amazon. So you can get a taster of the tensions that make up the first part of this serialisation, I am offering the following sample to draw you in!

I'm currently working on the second part of this series, which will be released around the end of July.

*

         The injury had mollified my mood, albeit involuntarily, John took me to the bathroom, where he cleaned and dressed my wound. I absolutely hated his generosity, but at the time I had no choice. We didn't have any bandages in the house, so he cut up an old towel and taped it tightly around my arm with some duct tape that he had bought years ago, with the misguided intention of fixing something.
"Are you okay Sarah?" He looked me in the eye for the first time that night, I slouched back against the bath, as I noticed a suggestion of guilt pass over his face.
"Of course I'm not okay." I said quietly, staring back at him.
"Oh."
"My husband is fucking a girl young enough to be his child, I've just trashed my own house, and now I've cut my fucking arm open!" I managed to stay calm during the first part of the sentence, before the anger began to swell again as my energy returned.
"What part of my life is okay John?" I raised my voice as much as my faint-headed state would allow.
John didn't answer, he sat on the closed toilet lid and rightly accepted that silence was the only appropriate response.
He looked at the floor and I looked away from him, neither of us could bear the sight of one another. I became more clear-headed, but my arm still throbbed intently, it was only the pain that prevented me from losing my temper even further. If I'd had the energy, I probably would have smashed the bathroom up as well. Although I'm not a violent woman, I find that there are certain instances in life when you cease to be the person you normally are.
I had loved him, and I knew that he loved me; but I think that even before he'd found himself a young floozy, I doubt we were 'in love' anymore. I guess our marriage had evolved into a partnership of support, friendship and respect; well, I respected him at least. In spite of all his apologies and protestations, it was clear that he no longer respected me; if he had, he wouldn't have done what he did.
But, John was about to leave and I never wanted to see him again, although I did want him to think of me, I wanted him to remember what we had, and what he threw away. A moment's inspiration told me exactly how to get inside his head.
"John..." I snapped at him, from my slouched position between the sink and bath.
"Ooohh!" He lifted his sobbing head out of his hands and looked directly at me. "Yeah?" "Will you fuck me?" I said matter-of-factly, in the same tone I would use to ask him to pass me the salt.
"Huh?" I had his attention, I don't think he could believe what he had just heard.
"I said, will you fuck me John?" I repeated calmly, holding eye contact with him and resisting the temptation to blink.
"Sarah are you..."
"Yes I'm fucking serious John!" I found the energy and anger within me to raise my voice again.
"I'm...oh... fuck." John stammered, I could see that his mind was a warren of confusion.
"John, it's a simple question." His hesitancy was not my concern, I was fully aware that I held pole position in the argument, and I intended to capitalise on it. I don't get angry very often, but when I do I find it brings with it an aroused and inflamed sexual appetite, this episode with John was no exception.
"I think under the circumstances, you owe me that much at least." I stared at him and awaited a response, I guessed by his unease that he must have made a vow of fidelity to his little slut. The idea of him cheating on her flooded my threadbare panties.
"I can't Sarah. It's not fair." I fought the weakness and pulled myself up, gripping the side of the sink with my good arm, as the bad one hung limply by my side.
"John, don't tell me what's fair. Fair has no place in this house anymore!" I called out, as I walked wobblingly to open the window, before stopping directly in front of him. I felt his nervy breath on the top of my head, as the cool breeze made me feel a little more awake.
My anger with him gradually homogenised into a needy resolve to fuck the bastard. I wanted to do it for all three of our sakes: for my satisfaction, his guilt and her anger. In my mind it was the only reasonable thing to do. As he stood muttering nervously to himself, I dropped to my knees, still a little unsteady, I gripped his legs for support, John's knees buckled immediately from his apprehensive attitude towards the unfolding situation.
"John!" I snapped, and he subserviently stood properly. What happened from there on began as a vengeful need for malevolence, yet transpired to be the means to fulfil one of my basic needs. Sure, I wanted to hurt her and make him guilty on two counts; but my biggest concern at that precise moment was the growing rate of moisture between my legs.
The fact he didn't wear a belt made it easy to get inside his trousers. John was the only man I knew who would wear a shirt tucked into his jeans without a belt; I wonder what I ever saw in him. After fumbling unsuccessfully for a few seconds, I lost my temper and ripped them open, briefly raising my eyebrows in satisfaction of ruining his jeans.
"No...Sarah...I can't..." He sighed unconvincingly to himself, as I pulled them down to his ankles and noticed that he had new briefs on.
"Shut up John! You owe me this." He didn't argue, he couldn't argue. He was beginning to get the hang of this 'silence at appropriate moments' thing.
The growing mound in John's pants made my mouth water, the anger and adrenaline probably helped, but I've never been the type of woman who could turn down a good hard cock. Although he never had much intelligence or style and turned out to be a complete bastard, John had the perfect cock. It was monolithically long and thick, it was delicious in every interpretable sense of the word. I swayed erratically on my knees before him, his dick looked even more satisfying to me then as it was no longer exclusively mine.
"No..." His protestations decreased in volume, as he dutifully stepped out of his old jeans and immaculate briefs. His fuckrod stood upright and ready for action, the last few inches had disappeared under the base of his blood stained shirt. A somewhat contradictory response from someone who persistently attempted to spurn the advances from the woman whose blood covered his shirt.
"No...Ohhh...Arrhhh...Sar..." He tried, he tried to tell me to stop, but as I dropped my cavernous throat around his succulent cock, he knew he couldn't say no. John's shaft was immense, yet my oral talents were accommodating, many times he had told me that I was the only woman who could fit it all in. And John loved a woman who could fit it all in. I bet his little slut can't, oh he's going to enjoy this!
I stood up from my kneeling position and bent my waist bent to an almost perfect right angle, with my neck strained back; that way I could take more of his cock in me as I unkinked my windpipe. Before returning to work on him I glanced fleetingly into his eyes, I saw a voiceless man who was completely lost in his own life.
John neither protested against, nor encouraged my actions. As I spread my lips and slid inch after inch of his heroic cock between them, the eroticism of the situation overcame me, I could no longer keep my free hand out of my own tatty trousers. Angry sex can be one of the most paradoxical emotional actions; I wanted to kill the fucker, yet at the same time to give him the best orgasm he had ever had.

*



Thursday, 28 June 2012

'Dirty Little Fuck Doll' Chapter One


Due to the overwhelming popularity of this sample chapter from my 5* rated 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll', I have decided to leave it on my blog indefinitely. If you enjoy what you read below, then you can follow the links at the bottom of this post and buy the full Kindle edition from Amazon.


Part One



An explosion of warm air, caused by the back-draft of a departing train, swirled the busked rendition of Fontella Bass' 'Rescue Me' around her; as Chloe click-clacked her way down the mosaic steps of Holborn station. For a soundtrack to the beginning of her Friday night, it could hardly have been a more a fitting coincidence. She needed to be swept off her feet, to be taken in somebody's arms; she needed to be rescued from her day. Yet the rush of air, rumble of a carriage and the beat of Fontella's began to discharge the strains of her irritating day, even the frustration of the packed platform did little to mute her growing optimism of the carriage home, and a relaxing evening ahead.

Chloe Sykes was a 24 year old part-time glamour model, full-time office dogsbody. Standing at a little over five foot six (or five foot ten in those heels), she had poker straight voluminous dark hair which met the curve of her shapely back; and could easily be described as the kind of promiscuite who would prefer to be strutting around naked all day, to wasting her time with monotonous reports.

As a precursor to the excessive August heat, she dressed very slightly that morning in a profitably thin grey dress, that was enchantingly tight in the bodice and extravagantly flowing in the skirt. A style which more than complimented her Barbiesque figure. She was barely a size eight, and her waify waist aided her surgically perfected cleavage to appear even more sensational to the interested onlooker. That dress had drawn the admiration of many a male colleague during the day, yet it had also attracted a constant bitchiness and stream of derisory comments from her aging female boss.

She paused for a moment at the entrance to the crowded platform, her squinted eyes flitted around to find a suitable gap in the heated throng, she chose to go left, tick-tocking past the sweaty workers and tourists, most of whom (even the women) followed her with their inquisitively hopeful eyes. Her own child like doe-eyes, lashes matted to perfection with mascara and gradated with light blue shadow, to compliment her light grey iris', jerked listlessly around: at the attire of other women, at the branded bags they were carrying, yet mostly at men. She was vehemently obsessed with men, with everything about them: their look, style, language and mannerisms. She liked strong men, with big hands that could look after her. She liked polite and considerate men, yet ones who could revert to their primitive instincts in intimate situations. She liked taller, slightly shorter, older, younger, any shade of hair and of any financial stability. She liked men. Everything else was merely superfluous.

More people flooded on to the platform, in a mass of over and slightly dressed bodies, and pert Chloe gave them all the seductive once over. A brief glance at their shape and style could answer a thousand of her questions, except on those occasions where she deigned to discover more. But, she wasn't the kind of doll to solely venture in to bed with men of wealthy means, for her, the huge, energetic cock of a considerate lover was worth any number of expensive shopping sprees. Yet, a combination of both these attributes, would mean that those few special guys could call on Chloe whenever they felt their urgent need.

She was one of those girls with a reputation amongst her friends for being insatiably addicted to all manners of sexual adventurism, some of whom had previously joked that she should work in the sex industry, to which she cheekily replied: "I'm a slag, not a whore." Chloe Sykes simply couldn't fuck a man she didn't want, one that she didn't chemically and physically need to populate her insides; she just wanted rather a lot of them. For her, sex was never about the sensation of love between two partners, but for the love of the sensation she invariably felt when sandwiched between two kaleidoscopic orgasms, almost choking on her own tongue and vibrating to her core through sheer delight.

She was still humming the chorus she had heard on her way down the steps, as the gentle buzzing of the rails grew steadily louder, the train lit up a slight bend in the tunnel before it reached the station, with the onslaught of air flowing right through her thin All Saints dress, the refreshing breeze brought a welcome cooling sensation to her temperate body. She twisted her lips to one side and sharply exhaled through her nose, as she noticed the tightly packed carriages. It had always been the same at five-thirty on a Friday, yet Chloe the optimist never lost hope that one day, on just one occasion, she might actually enjoy her journey home. She darted on, between the exiting passengers, around over-weight tourists and amongst the robotic office workers; finding herself a Chloe sized space at the far end of the carriage.

A well dressed man in his mid to late thirties had cast an intrigued eye over Chloe, as she ducked and pushed her way through; then found himself in the fortunate position to be standing next to her. He gazed surreptitiously across at her sandy brown skin, tantalising legs and tempestuous chest, with a lascivious curiosity. She tapped her fingers against the side of her rippled skirt to Fontella's catchy riff, oblivious to the truth that she was being studiously admired.

Mark had finished work on a high that day, having met all of his sales targets for the month; targets that were set so unobtainably high, that his boss couldn't let the occasion pass without handing Mark the profiteer a handsome bonus. He felt like a king of the modern world, totally unbeatable. Just minutes before, he had been meandering down the breezeless Newgate Street with a certain animation in his step, and then he found this titillating doll to visually devour on his ride home. The minutes passed, as their bodies swayed intimately closer and closer, until it crossed his mind that if he could sell steel to the Chinese, there was a possibility he could perhaps negotiate her imaginary lace thong off, and sample her with much more than just his eyes. A thong that was imaginary in his over-sexed imagination, yet non-existent in her Friday outfit.

Mark flew forward unexpectedly, as the train braked hard into Tottenham Court Road, he caught her abruptly with his shoulder and silently cursed himself for such an act of idiotic clumsiness, as his buoyant mood was temporarily dented. But, as Chloe turned to face him, she felt an abdominal rush consume her tiny frame. Her expansive grey eyes danced confidently around his glorious physique, he had that dark floppy hair she adored. She glanced momentarily into his dark green eyes, feeling such an intrigue that she immediately decided that this would not be the only time she engaged in such an act. He was tall, with a well maintained body, perfectly obvious though his tightly fitted white shirt, and tailored sandy chinos. He clearly obtained this muscular shape from an intense fitness schedule, she thought he could probably fuck for hours. Chloe narrowed her gaze to sneak him a smile before turning back, a glow reverberating happily around her womb. Mark was buoyed again. He moved away slightly to get a better look at her, resting himself on one of those ridiculous half seats you find at the back of every carriage.

Once the train pulled into Oxford Circus, the waiting density of impatient passengers announced the imminent end of the unwanted micro-space separating the two sexual libertines. Chloe took a tiny step back, resting a Kurt Geiger either side of Mark's welcoming legs. He insidiously savoured the back of her tawny arms, and was within the zone of proximity to steal a faint whiff of her morning Chanel, mixed with the evocative odour of a girl on a baking day. The impetuous travellers continued to force their way through the doors, causing the unbearable temperature to rise even further. Chloe was squashed up against Mark, yet continued to face away from him, as her willowy form rubbed against the growing bulge in his trousers; a kittenish thought entered her playful mind.

His heart beat strong and fast, as he thought about reaching out to grab the little tease, and pull her onto him, such was the alluring effect she was inducing within him. Chloe chose her moment to pounce with perfection, once the train jerked forward to pull out of the station, she used gravity as her excuse to sink backwards into his lap. Barely a millimetre of expensive fabrics then separated their hungry genitalia. She half turned around, said "Hi", then turned away, wriggling her ass in his groin to 'get comfortable'.

"You don't mind do you?" She quizzed him, through partially squinted eyes.

"Not at all." He answered, his posh-boy London accent caused her intestines to dance around a little more. Yet he was tremendously confused by that point; was she teasing or inviting him? He still couldn't decide, whether she wanted more than a tease and somewhere to sit, or not? The train turned sharply, Mark put one of his exquisitely large hands on Chloe's slender waist to steady her. She pushed her taut flesh hard against his well groomed hand, pressing her body down on his waiting crotch. As Mark tightened his grip on her, Chloe felt the lump in his trousers grow, a fuzzy sensation blistered the surface of her skin.



The train twisted and jerked through Central London, as it made its way west. The flirtatious couple continued with their silent interlock; by then, he had both hands on her, and a semi-erect cock that was becoming increasingly eager. The worries of her day, and the hatred of her bitch-boss were but a distant memory. She had already decided that she was going to fuck Mark (although she still didn't know his name at that point), and they were going to do it repeatedly. She'd make sure of that. Just in case Mark didn't fully appreciate what she was planning, Chloe leant forwards, lifting her arse a little on one side, then slipped her hand between their purring bodies, and with a confident sense of purpose, grabbed his cock. Mark could no longer contain the emotions within him, he released a brief high pitched nasal grunt, as she rolled his swollen head between her slender forefinger and thumb; he groaned again, an old guy standing nearby turned away with a look of disgust.

Mark gripped her waist firmly, the way she liked it. Chloe was well known for her admiration of strong men, for their ability to handle her with a sense of artistry; she had never been a subscriber to the fulfilment of the deft touch. He looked up at the ceiling, trying desperately to control himself, she turned to him:

"Where are you going?"

"Ruislip." He responded, after clearing his throat.

She tilted her head slightly, pursed her lips, staring momentarily at his packed white shirt, bulging in the best possible way.

"Oh. I'm getting off at White City." She announced, lifting her eyes to meet his own adoring green gaze, yet making no effort to hide her admiring glances around his swaying body.

"Uh-huh." Mark was lost for a more cohesive response, partly due to her continual massaging of his ample bell end, and partially because this journey had become so sexually surreal, that he had difficulty concentrating on anything other than the perfect body that stood before him.

"You wanna get off with me?"

Mark could take no more of her torment, afraid of blowing his load, he span her around, looking studiously all over his propositioner's body. Her sun drenched chest almost burst its way free from the restraints of her bodice. She hadn't flinched or looked remotely uncomfortable at his aggressive handling over her. Perhaps she wasn't a tease.

He glanced at her made-up face and immaculate hair, doe-eyes meeting his gaze, she cocked her head to one side.

"Well?" She smiled, expectant of an answer. He ran his hands down her back and gripped her shapely arse, pulling her waif-like body even closer.

"You're fucking right I do!" It was as if all other sounds had fallen silent, only their own voices mattered.

"Good." She smiled, leaning into him so their foreheads touched momentarily, before she span back around, positioning her arse on top of Mark's temporarily tortured dick. This time she managed to control herself, and not grab it, but felt the warm glow of anticipation rise through her abdomen, as she dared to imagine what the evening ahead may have in reserve.



Chloe Sykes was a slag, there could never be a better way of phrasing it; a simple and concise statement that illustrated her perfectly, in the tritest of terms. It was a tag that she herself would occasionally admit to, out of a sense of her own honesty, even with a hint of pride. She began her sexual relations at a relatively young age, and right from those first encounters she knew that sex was the best possible thing to do. The satisfaction of bedding a man or boy that she wanted, the glorious sensation of an excess of Oxytocin flowing through her veins, and the magnificent rippling of the muscular contractions that rebounded around her body, helped to convince her that sex was something that should be done as often as possible. Her nick-name amongst her high-school friends was 'Fuck Doll', initiated out of her high sex drive, and the frequency of her liaisons. Although those peers themselves were hardly innocent, her immediate group of friends were known misleadingly to local boys as the 'Unfuckables'; because their young ages should dictate that they were, whereas, in appearance and practice they quite clearly were not.

Yet in spite of all her previous sexual adventures, she still tripped over a schoolgirl rush every time she conquered a man she craved. As the tube juddered its way towards White City, she uncovered an even greater level of excitement in the fact that she didn't yet know his name. They had barely even spoken, and she was going to let him (and indeed suggest that he does) do things to her that most other women could barely even imagine.

She squeezed his thigh as the train braked hard into White City; then led him off, up the stairs, out of the concourse, across Wood Lane and hailed a cab in the direction of Wormwood Scrubs.

Monday, 18 June 2012

Reviews for 'The Megan Affair - Part One'

My latest book: 'The Megan Affair - Part One', has been out for just over a week and it already has some stellar reviews on both Amazon sites. It has been awarded four 'five star' ratings and one 'four star'; below are some comments from these reviews:

Dean Hetherington @X2Dean: 'Left me breathless' 5/5
"In a word wow! Eleanor, has left me breathless and eager for part 2. The passion between John and Sarah reaches the highest of heights at the wrong time in their failing marriage. The intensity of their bathroom encounter will have you flicking the page until you realize you've reached the end and you are holding your breath!
Awesome Ellie, I want part 2!"


Imogen Headey @Iomgen_Iam: 'Rough and raw' 5/5
"Brutal and jarring, Part One of The Megan Affair is violent sex at its grittiest, detailing an passionate encounter between a husband and wife, though the passion isn't of a loving nature. The way in which they use each other is rough, the frustrations they are finally working out about their failed relationship driving them to do such things to each other... such nasty things.
Undeniable shocking, Part One of The Megan Affair is as it says in the product description, a "sexual sparring match", and by the end of this first round, I couldn't wait to read the rest of the bout!"


Sarah: 5/5
"After reading 50 shades I thought nothing could top the "reading one handed" factor until I discovered this gem.well written,gritty and easy to relate too.The bathroom scene left me wanting more,can't wait to read the 2nd part."

PookieLee: 'WOW! Violently seductive' 4/5
"Sexy, raw, painfully sinful. This story is short and definitely action packed. I can't wait for the second installment in this series."

TrulyGreat @the_weremouse: 'Overpowering, exciting, violent... just the things fantasies are made of!' 5/5
"Wow! I was a little unsure about reading this book as I have never considered myself attracted to violence. But her other book was so well done and hot I thought, why not! This story has opened my eyes a bit.
My first thought as I read The Megan Affair was 'Woah! Woman Scorned'.
My second thought was 'OMG! This is violent and yet hot!'
My third thought was 'I need to get a bf and have violent angry sex now!'
My only real gasp moment was the way it ended. I wasn't sure if it ended, or the ending was cut off as there was no trailing author's comment, note or book list.
Either way, I am peaking out behind my hands in preparation for The Megan Affair part 2! Yikes! Can't wait!"


To buy 'The Megan Affair - Part One' on Amazon.com, click here

To buy 'The Megan Affair - Part One' on Amazon.co.uk, click here

Saturday, 9 June 2012

'The Megan Affair - Part One'


Well, my latest book 'The Megan Affair - Part One' is tip-toeing it's way to the Amazon shelves right now! I have finally finished the rewrites and just submitted it. As usual, it should take up to twelve hours until it is live on their site. I will tweet like mad once it is in the Kindle store :)


John and Sarah's marriage is at crisis point once she discovers his affair with a girl less than half his age. As he stands ready to walk out for the last time, one final argument brings them into each other's unwelcoming arms again. Their evening descends through a spell of domestic violence into one of aggressive sexual gratification as each party attempts to out-fuck the other.
Consider 'The Megan Affair - Part One' to be a documentary of a sexual sparring match, as John and Sarah use sex as a weapon against each other as the youthful Megan appears on the scene. This first instalment details one horrific and unforgettable night in the redrawing of their marriage. Graphic sex and sadomasochistic violence are plentiful, by the end you will be in a complete state of suspense, impatient to discover how the story develops in part two.

Excerpts:

"We became lost in the present, our resolute desire to maim and argue with our bodies, devolved into a passion to give each other the most explosive orgasmic delight either of us were likely to achieve ever again. His young slut may well have been tighter, she may have had firmer breasts that were further up her chest; but with a man like John, you had to be able to take it all. Finesse and beauty were all well and good, but there would come a time when she would need to lower herself to his level of debasement."

"Oh fuck!" I yelled as his meat was battering mine, my pussy was being tenderised in the most obscene fashion."

"After a few minutes I felt light-headed once more, my head must have gone weak in his hands, as he released his palm from my thyroid I took a sharp intake of breath and he picked up the pace. He stabbed in and out of my accommodating arse; in and out, in and out, in and out. God knows where he found the energy from, externally I may have appeared a ball of fury, but inside I was delirious."

"That man, that stupid husband of mine, was actually quite good once he got going, even if he was a cheating bastard. It's just a shame it took me the beginning, middle and end of our marriage to discover he could fuck me like that."

"He slammed himself into me, all eleven thick inches, buffeting in and out, using my arsehole as a scabbard, he expelled my anger and dissatisfaction with him and elevated me to a level of euphoria."

Friday, 8 June 2012

My Fuck Doll and I


My debut erotica novella 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll' was my life, and every thought during the sixty-seven days it took to write. In this blog entry, I would like to share my experiences and offer an insight into the writing processes I used. I have been asked on many occasions on Twitter, what my thoughts are regarding certain aspects of writing or erotica. Since I am limited to 140 characters on there, I feel that this blog will answer some of these questions, as well as offer a behind the scenes insight into what went in to create this piece of work.



As detailed in one of my previous blogs: 'My Kindle and I', the ownership of an electronic reading device, and the ease at which 'books' can be bought and read discretely set my mind racing on writing a short erotic piece to sell on Amazon. I have written all my life, from short stories to poetry, and even a few pieces for the theatre. But erotica? Well I'd written a few scrappy pieces, more like diary entries if I'm honest. So this would be a challenge, something that I never shy away from. Within about two days of having owned my Kindle, I had downloaded and read two very poorly written erotica stories. My resolve was set, I would write one; and it would be much better!

I sketched out a one page synopsis, made up of half a dozen bullet points with a few character and location notes. Previous writing projects had seen me spend weeks in the planning stages, with 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll' I wanted to use a basic skeleton, around which the story would develop itself. Whilst I acknowledge that it is of major importance to have a framework for my story, I think it's important not to over-plan, and therefore restrict the natural evolution of my characters and their journey. Jackson Pollock said: "The painting has a life of its own, I try to let it come through", I feel the same applies to literature.

My objective was very simple: to write an erotica story that was cover to cover hardcore literary pornography. In fact, I wasn't even sure if it could be deemed erotica! I set out to use rich, decadent and descriptive language; to dwell on those moments, and write them in over saturated colours. You may consider these parts to be 'overworked', but that is entirely intentional. I wanted to write the sex in real-time, giving graphic descriptions of my characters experiences. Most importantly, I set out to write about the sex that I enjoy, the kind of sex that I either have, or have had. I had to turn me on, as the writer it's paramount that I associate with my characters. You must believe me when I tell you that I had a lot of fun writing this!

So, I sat down to write. I have always written my first drafts long hand, I find the words flow better between pen and page, rather than from keyboard to screen. I get lost in my own sentences, writing so fast I can barely even make out my own handwriting. A quick stroke through a mistake, and I'm off again, without the interruptions of errors made more obvious on a word processor. I write everywhere, mostly in my office at home, although I do spend a lot of time in cafes scribbling intently within a sea of fellow caffeine addicts. I find the step away from my usual environment breaks my mood, it helps me to think outside of the sphere of my normality.

My goal, was to let the story go where it needed to go, which sounds straight forward, yet it is anything but. Despite not adhering to a strict timeline, it was imperative that I knew where the characters were going; my time alone with my pen and pad would dictate how they got there. Many people I have spoken to, have told me of their intention to write, yet their difficulty of getting the words down on paper; perhaps unaware of how to start their story, or how to write certain scenes, adhere to a plot etc. My advice, is quite simply: get it down, it's something that I have to tell myself from time to time, when I'm deliberating over a specific; therefore delaying the process of writing. My experience has taught me that it is better to write it, and correct it later, than to get hung up on one small detail. If I dwell on the correct word to use in a particular part of the book, I lose my train of thinking. If I know I need to add a word or description, but don't want to lose my train of thought, I will add lines to the manuscript, and fill it in during one of the re-writes. I also do this, when I know that I need to research a particular location or subject. Writing is one of those activities that you need to be in the groove, some days I can sit and write 1000 words without even lifting my head from the page. Others, I can barely manage fifty before giving up. My advice is that if you are not in the mood to write, don't. Anything you do write in that frame of mind will probably not read as well as the sections where you were really at your best.

In terms of the process of actually 'writing' the book, it took just over three weeks, during which time it was my only consideration. I took Chloe, Mark and Mikki everywhere; both in my mind, and on the pages of the notebook in my bag. Everything I wrote about them, I considered during the day, then wrote it at night. My writing times were a mixture of early mornings, late nights and weekends. Thankfully my adorable hub, has been very supportive of my writing.

Once the first draft was written out by hand, I had the arduous task of typing it all up. I'm not afraid to tell you that typing is the least enjoyable part of writing for me. There were several infuriating moments when I was cursing myself, for my ludicrously bad handwriting, when I had been caught in the moment of inspiration, and scribbled the words down at a lightning speed. However, the practice of typing is in itself a part of the editing process, as I can pick out words that don't work, as well as correcting other mindless mistakes. There is no better feeling as a writer, than to handle the first printed copy of your work; it was a fantastic moment when I collated the pages from the printer, and bound them together.

However, this was where the real work started. The final copy, which is available now as an ebook is essentially the seventh draft. The first being the handwritten copy, the second the first typed imprint. I took that beautiful clean copy of my unedited work, and wrote all over it with my favourite red pen. I read through it several times, correcting the obvious typing and grammatical errors. Once it was done, I typed in the corrections, and ran the third draft. In this section of editing I added some extra descriptions to the locations, as well as adding a little more characterisation. I also began to look at the style of language that was used.

Once this had been typed into the fourth draft, I spent a lot of time fine-tuning the descriptive style. It was at this stage that I looked to maximise the vocabulary used, for example, rather than writing the word 'walk' repeatedly, I would replace it with: 'stepped',' made her way', 'trotted' or 'sauntered'. As a reader, I look to be extending my vocabulary; I expect writers to do the same. There is nothing more tedious than reading the same adjectives over and over again. This probably formed the most lengthy part of the editing process. I quite literally pulled each sentence apart, and rebuilt it. Then, each sentence had to be tweaked slightly to fit in with the rest of the paragraph, and so on. During re-writing the fourth draft, I came up with the name 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll'. Prior to that, I had never really given the project a proper name; I am cautious about starting a book with a particular name in mind, in case it dictates where the story leads; only the story itself should be in control of the direction. That said, I was exceptionally happy with the title, and felt that it suited the book perfectly.

The fifth draft saw some major structural changes, including the ending. I had purposefully not written the last part beforehand, as I wanted to have time to reflect and consider what the conclusion should be. A great ending, will let the book live on in the reader's mind long after they have finished. This is what I aimed for with 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll'; I can accept that it may not be a classic ending, but I hope that it goes a long way to explain why Chloe acts and thinks in the way that she does. I also re-wrote several other sections, as well as altered the formatting.

By the sixth draft, the story was pretty much complete (as any writer will acknowledge, a book is very rarely 'finished', I'd like to meet one who could read through their own published work and not alter anything). I read through it about four times, picking the odd typos up here and there. Once it was finished, I had the seventh draft and was ready to upload it to Amazon.

During the latter stage of re-writing, I began to work on my cover. I explored several options, including to use a stock image, have one of my artist friends create an illustration or just to use plain text. There are some great stock images out there that are really affordable, but there was a niggling thought at the back of my head that told me to keep the book entirely original. So I counted that option out. The illustration was a good idea, I even have a couple of sketches of how it would have looked like. But in the end, I roped my fantastic husband into helping out. The cover image is me, in a pair of my favourite fucking shoes; taken and edited by my husband, under my dictatorial direction. That cover itself is the twelfth version, we kept doing it, and it just didn't look right. I think we spent two entire weekends working on that. People tell you not to judge a book by a cover, but you always do! The added difficulty with creating an ebook cover, is that it has to look good as a cover, as a thumbnail on Amazon, in colour, and in black and white on the Kindle. Rest assured that it is no easy task to create an original image that fits all these criteria.

So, once I had the book, the title and the cover, I was ready to begin the upload process. What an emotional time that turned out to be. You can submit a Word document to Amazon, and their KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) site will convert it into the Kindle format. However, you have to have everything formatted correctly for this to work properly. Whilst it may look ok in Word, any mistakes will jeopardise the alignment when you view the file on a Kindle. Previewing it on a Kindle would be fantastic, but you have to make do with the 'Kindle viewer' that Amazon provide. I wasn't at all impressed with this, it never looked right, even when it was. To me, it always looked like the text was wonky! This itself took about five attempts, as I aligned the title and copyright pages, so the text was in the appropriate places on the page; something that's made even more of a challenge by the fact that you can change font sizes and line spacing on a Kindle. Once I had all this the way I wanted it, I skim-read through the document. There was a moment of absolute despair, when I noticed a line of messed up characters; after spending several minutes trying to work out what had gone wrong, I traced the error back to my Word document, and realised that my cat must have walked across the keyboard! Panic, then I re-read the whole book three times to ensure that there were no other feline additions. Once I was finally satisfied, I clicked 'upload' and waited.

It takes about twelve hours for Amazon to upload your work to their site, during which you will see 'in review' as your product's status. Those were a nervous twelve hours! Quite what they actually review, I'm not sure; but thankfully they accepted it, and on Sunday 29th April, my 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll' was live on Amazon. It turned out to be one of the most emotional days of my life. I had the despair of my early problems, the nervous waiting, the excitement of seeing my book for sale on Amazon, the jubilation of selling several copies on the first day, and the immense satisfaction of receiving two five star reviews almost immediately. Those sixty-seven days of hard work and commitment had been worth it!



Throughout this whole process, 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll' had been my every thought, I committed myself to it entirely. I had a belief in the project that couldn't be broken or compromised. I feel that this is necessary for a writer, I could never have completed it to the standard that I attained to if I were to pick it up once a week. It had to be a part of me, woven into my daily life. At first, Chloe was written as an alter ego of my younger self; but, as the book progressed, she became more like a friend. I would find myself wondering what Chloe might think about certain situations, how she would react to things that happened to me. She became my imaginary friend.

One aspect of this journey that I feel worked very well was the time I took to write it, there were no rash decisions, every word was carefully considered. There were parts that just didn't work, so I would leave them alone, and let an idea evolve over time in my mind. If the solution came quickly, then great; if it took a few weeks, then it was worthy of the wait. If I was unhappy with any aspect of the book, I would not have been able to publish it. It had to be a book that I would want to read.

There are a lot of responsibilities that go with self-publishing, one of which is that you have to promote your own work. I could have easily uploaded my book to Amazon, and done nothing; if I had done that, maybe I would have sold two copies by now. But I didn't, I have worked tirelessly prostituting both myself and 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll' on Twitter. As a result, I have sold more copies of the book than I anticipated, collecting some fantastic reviews along the way. Of course, there has been some negative feedback, but that is par for the course. I love to hear what my readers think, and I hope that they all enjoy reading my book; but if they don't, well that's their choice. I can't say that I've loved every book that I've ever read!

I hope that this insight into my writing practice has been interesting, and encourages you to read 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll'. I am currently working on a new novella, which I expect to release this summer. I had hoped to finish it by the end of May or the beginning of June, but I am not about to start rushing it! I am currently drawing towards the end of the first draft, and will employ exactly the same technique as I used for 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll'. Expect something different though, as a writer I do not want to stagnate, I will always keep my readers guessing, and eager to download my latest offering.

Imogen Loved 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll'


Imogen Headey @Imogen_Iam reviewed ‘Dirty Little Fuck Doll’ on Amazon, she gave it the full five stars, and wrote these comments:

“From Chloe’s initial tube train flirtation (if that’s the right word for what she’s doing!) with Mark, to their very physical bedroom scene, in which Chloe uses this stranger to satisfy herself, the first part of Miss Sykes’ erotic adventures are stimulating enough!
When they continue, and Mikki is introduced into the mix, DLFD starts to race towards an extremely intense climax.

Chloe is portrayed as one part male fantasy, one part the ultimate sexually empowered woman. She uses Mark and Mikki as tools to satisfy herself, but is also used by them. She does things that “good girls” don’t, and enjoys them. A lot.

This is not a book about love. There isn’t any coyness or inhibited behaviour. It is about lust and gratification. It is incredibly raw and at times brutal in its description, and almost poetically descriptive at others. This is a roller coaster of sexual physicality, that I found (and still do) incredibly stimulating.”

Thanks Imogen!
To buy ‘Dirty Little Fuck Doll’ from Amazon, click here

Carla Croft Reviews 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll'


Carla Croft, the stunning author of the Letters Around Midnight’ series, recently reviewed my new book: Dirty Little Fuck Doll on Amazon and her blog. Here’s what she thought:

If you like ‘no holes barred’ XXXX erotica then this will definitely be one that you will want to have close to hand. The writing barrels along like a runaway train. The pace is relentless. But be warned, this is the sexual express that never slows down at any station so that you can jump off. You really are caught up in the most frenetic sexual ride. Anything goes here as Chloe gives of her all in her search for sexual fulfillment.

However, it’s not just a sexual grunt fest. Chloe, we learn, considers love to be a blunt instrument and prefers the scalpel of lust. For her, sex is a self exploration a connection and a communication. After the pace of the sex is over we learn just enough about Chloe to hazard a guess at why she does what she does. It’s that moment of reflection and consideration as the story trundles towards the buffers at the end of the line that made the story for me. It put the exhilaration of the journey into context and gave it meaning. Without it, the book would not have been as enjoyable. In fact it will be this hint at Chloe’s inner workings more than her rapacious appetite that pulls me back to the book. It was a very welcome ending as the train pulled into the station surrounded by a huge cloud of sexual steam. It was one hell of a ride.

Thank you Carla!

One part of this review I find particularly interesting, are Carla’s thoughts on the concluding pages. These was actually written right at the end of the project, and not included in any of the first three drafts. Sometimes, I find it easier to leave endings (and often beginnings) until I have a good feel for the main body of the story; as these are the two most important sections, enticing the reader into my world, and then leaving a thought or two to linger with them long after they have finished the book. This itself may sound extraordinarily obvious, but is not always easy to achieve. Therefore, I find that waiting for a few weeks after completing the main body, affords me the time to mull some ideas over and to have a few secretive discussions and debates with my creative self. So, it was fantastic to read that Carla found the last few pages as pivotal as they were meant to be. Once you have read the book, it should go a very long way towards explaining why Chloe acts and thinks in the way she does. I feel it’s important to recognise that women/girls can be as addicted to, and motivated by sex as men. Quite often even more so, but we just do a better job of it ;)


My Kindle and I


A couple of days ago, one of my friends on Twitter asked me my opinion about Kindles, or ereaders in general; I promised to blog about it, so here we go.

Firstly, let me just point out that I am very much a 'book' person; I always have been, and I have no intention of disbanding my beloved collection of several thousand tomes. They comfort me in a way that I have difficulty describing. Their presence around our rooms is both soothing, and reassuring.

I had noticed Kindles around for quite some time, I'd even held one just before Christmas, thinking: Should I?, Shouldn't I? But alas, at the time I chose to stick with my paper books. I guess there is a traditional element to my thinking, at first these Kindles seemed like they were doing the dirty on 'printing'. So, I put it back on the shelf, walked out of the shop and dropped in to my favourite second hand bookshop in London (Any Amount of Books, Charing Cross Road. Amazing place). I always buy second hand books, even as a Kindle owner, I still buy them. I love the smell, the history, the passing down of information; and the fact that an old book can be as much of a story as what's written within it.

Then, during a tube journey, I looked around and counted eight people reading Kindles (or other ereaders, let's not give Amazon too much product placement in this blog) in my carriage. The temptation that I had dampened down before Christmas sprang up again. If there were so many people using these cute little devices, then they must be pretty good. As soon as I got home I surfed the Amazon and took a look. I was amazed, they are reasonably cheap, it's very easy to download books, plus there are lots of free books available for the Kindle. My mind was almost made up instantaneously! But then I delved a little further, the kinky minx in me wanted to see the erotica section. Oh, fuck. There were so many 'books' to choose from, and I noticed that many of them were self published. This set my curious little mind in action. I spent a few hours researching the intricacies of publishing on Kindle, and was surprised at the relative ease of doing so. My mind was all but made up to invest! However, I still had a few reservations, about my guilt towards the good, old paper books; seeing as I've got a colleague with a Kindle, I thought I would ask him.

He was like an Amazon salesman, I couldn't believe how positive he was about it, I told him my concerns, and he pointed out that he actually reads more with a Kindle, because he can take it everywhere. Now that was one of the deal-clinchers for me, the portability of my entire library meant that I could read whatever, wherever. Plus, there was the added bonus of being able to read smutty stories on public transport without the dirty looks. It was a deal. I placed my order, along with a beautiful lighted leather case.

In hindsight, I guess I should have spent the extra money for next-day delivery, as the four day wait on the standard option tried my nerves a little; I was so very impatient. But when it finally arrived, oh, what joy. The packaging is contemporary and beautiful, yet it makes you want to rip it open and get started. Which is what I did. I was stunned by the ease and speed of being able to download books in seconds, with just one click. Plus, the ability to buy them directly from my Kindle. It has actually been everywhere with me ever since, the size and weight is perfect for putting in any of my bags, and it even fits in the pocket of some of my winter jackets.

So, once I had explored my beautiful new friend, I went back to the erotica section, and the idea for 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll' was born. I had decided to make my Kindle pay for itself! Having been a writer for many years, I was inspired by this new way of publishing, and the ability to present my work directly to the readers, without needing to impress some archaic publisher. I set to work on my book, and then (skip forward the sixty-seven days it took to write and edit) uploaded it with relative ease.

One of the questions I was asked, was 'do ereaders harm writers and publishers?' Well, I can only see that the ability for writers to access their writers directly will enhance their careers, plus Amazon offer very favourable royalties on sales. At either thirty-five or seventy-five percent of the sale price, the rates from Amazon are much higher than writers would be offered from a traditional publisher. That said, there are no printing, marketing, editing or delivery costs to factor in. The important point out of that list for me is editing, there are a reasonable number of self-published books that would have clearly benefited from an editor. I feel very strongly that as independent writers, we must work hard to protect the integrity of self-publishing, by ensuring that our works are well written and free of grammatical or typing mistakes. Otherwise, customers may not feel confident choosing an independent title over one from an established publishing house. However, my attention to detail is so anal, that I usually find mistakes in most printed books.

Do Kindles harm publishers? Well the short answer is that they shouldn't. The ereader is now so developed and cemented in our culture that it is here to stay, I doubt that that point is up for debate. So, the Kindle shouldn't harm the publisher any more than the digital camera damaged the business of film. Companies must adapt to what their customers want and need, if they choose not to, then they only have themselves to blame when the administrators come knocking at their door. Although I would like to add that Amazon have very cleverly engineered themselves as the market leaders here, not only do they produce the biggest selling reader, they also dominate the market that distributes the media. You can only expect Amazon's market position to go from strength to strength because of this.

The upshot is, that my Kindle is probably my most treasured possession, I adore it in every way it is healthy to adore an inanimate object. Do I read more? Certainly. Do I write more? Absolutely. Do I read less paper books? Perhaps, but times change. I would recommend a Kindle to anybody, and of course, the first book you should read on it would be 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll'.

More reviews for 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll'


I have had two more fantastic five star reviews for my book ‘Dirty Little Fuck Doll:

Sorel (@SorelW11) thought:

‘This is hardcore erotica that leaves you wet and wanting more!
Ms. Black introduces us to Chloe and gives the reader a taste of what Chloe likes and what she can do. With one or more partners…
In the beginning, Ms. Black had me wondering what Chloe is capable of. What does she like? As I kept reading, there was no disappointment! Chloe satisfies her partners and the reader!
Is there a DLFD Part 2 in the works? I sure hope so, because the adventures of Chloe Sykes will never be boring!
I’m looking forward to reading more from Eleanor Black. Her DLFD already has me hooked on her future books!’

J.A. McCorkle (@JAMcCorkle) said:

‘Everyone that’s on twitter talking about this story should get on here and leave a review! This story was delightfully dirty and I thoroughly enjoyed it! Thanks for writing it! It probably captures that dirty streak we all have, but never act on! Looking for more! Keep it coming! Ha! Ha!’

I am delighted with the response so far, please keep your reviews coming in! Thanks guys! x

5 Stars for my 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll'


Dean Hetherington has reviewed ‘Dirty Little Fuck Doll’ on Amazon, he gave it the maximum five stars and made the following comments:

“If you’re looking for romance mosey along; if you’re after page after page of blood pumping carnal pleasure you’re in the right place. A simple tube journey on the pleasure line terminates at pleasure central, Chloe the eponymous character in this erotic encounter is insatiable.

Eleanor brings the reader along Chloe’s journey, as you get deeper into the story the content gets hotter and hotter, turning pages you become immersed in the story as it builds to an enormous climax. From first page to last I was engrossed - every piece of action is described in great detail but not to the point of losing the moment, you are left in no doubt about the pleasure the characters seek or experience and it fills your mind with it’s eroticism.

Next time I ride the tube, I’ll be looking out for Chloe and I’ll be looking out for more of Eleanor’s work”

This was actually the first review for 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll', made right on its release day, so you can imagine how happy Dean’s comments made me! Sometimes as a writer, you can get lost in the technicalities of a text, especially in the editing and proofing stage; so such positive comments as these really give you faith that the end product is worth the effort.

It’s difficult to describe the emotions I felt that day, one was relief and excitement that my darling book was now published, out and available to buy! Another was apprehension at whether it would sell or not, then some people bought it, and I was ecstatic. And right at the end of the day this fabulous review of Dean’s went live on Amazon, with a sales ranking of 13,944. I couldn’t believe my luck, what a day :)

Thanks Dean! x

My Review of Carla Croft's 'Letters Around Midnight - Threesomes - Volume 1'


This is the first book of Carla's work that I've read, and I must say I am really impressed. The format is original, and works very well; being a collection of three conversations with three friends, all of whom recount some sexual adventure.

The first of these, featuring Ailsa is immensely seductive and the language beautifully crafted, let's just say this one really got me off!

Chrissy, in the second story is a little vixen who thrilled me perfectly. Carla wrote it with such a skill that I was literally hanging on every word, with a lump in my throat. All will become clear once you've read the story.

Beverley, in the third of the threesomes is a total control freak, successful and almost masculine in her dominance. This was my least favourite part of the book, although it was very well crafted, it didn't seem as 'hot' as the two previous encounters.

The whole book is a trio of incredibly sexy stories, that will certainly get you rummaging beneath the sheets. It is evident that the author put in a lot of effort, the book flows beautifully, it is well written and formatted. Personally, I would have mixed the order of the stories around a little, to end with one of the real steamy tales. That said, I would certainly recommend this to anybody that is looking for an intelligently written book, that will get them reaching for that little drawer next to the bed. Now to download volume two!

To buy 'Letters Around Midnight - Threesomes - Volume 1' on Amazon, click here

Saturday, 2 June 2012

Cara Sutra reviews 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll'


The highly respected Cara Sutra has taken the time to offer her opinions on my new book 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll'. Here's what she thought:



"The premise of Dirty Little Fuck Doll is a good one; insanely sexy, young nymphomaniac glamour model with epic proportions can’t go long without sex. There it is. Just a glorious festival of fucking, with beautiful people, beautiful scenes, porn-perfect characters and … lots of sex.

Unfortunately, I had to stop reading this book half way through. It could (and should) be a fantastic, erotic read. Due to poor proofing (please, learn how to properly place full stops and no, don’t place capital letters In The Middle Of Sentences For No Reason) and a disturbing amount of flowery, descriptive language, it just didn’t push my buttons. At all.

The author seems overly keen on two things. Long, drawn out sentences without proper placement of full stops, and describing every scene in such irrelevant detail that it detracts from the action. I was half way through the book and all our gorgeous protagonist had done was met a guy on a train, gone back to his pad and started to fuck him.

Sorry, but I need more drama, tension, friction. Gritty characters that have some essence of realism. Emotions! Not just two bodies mindlessly frottaging and penetrating because they just ‘can’t help it.’ Nor do I particularly care about the period style of a window, or door, or details of the garden that the bedroom overlooked.

Following possibly every male stereotypical fantasy going, Chloe is a glamour model, with fake tits, a rampaging nymphomaniac that pulls guys on the train then eventually can’t help but fuck him, suck his cock, walks around naked and begs him to have a threesome. Yawn.

I didn’t find anything particularly perverse in the book, other than how much reality I had to suspend to carry on reading page after page of poorly written yet somehow overly floral descriptions.

I’m disappointed that I didn’t find a Dirty Little Fuck Doll at all, in fact all that I found was a nauseatingly empty headed bimbo with legs akimbo.

If you like your erotica with less plot than a cheap porno (probably along the lines of Dirty MILF Lesbians with Big Tits 2), perhaps this book won’t disappoint. For anyone with an imagination, stay well away.

2/10"



Ok, that's not a good review. In fact, as reviews go, it's about as bad as they get. But, there have been so many good reviews for 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll', I knew I had a bad one coming. Cara, I take your comments on board, they are gratefully received, and will help to make my next book (currently being written) a better one. Although it must be said that I do get the feeling that Cara just didn't like it!

In relation to her comments about my proofing, well I would invite Cara to drop me an email with some more specific information regarding those 'mistakes'. I had the manuscript proofread extensively, both by myself and others; all of us are avid readers, and university post-graduates.

However, I'm not about to start kicking back against her thoughts; but, I do think that she should have finished the book in order to form a full opinion. Cara herself claimed 'To have an opinion, one must first be in possession of all the facts' in her review of '50 Shades of Grey' by E.L.James, when discussing her intention of 'tossing it across the room in disgust'. Those people who have finished it, have left some excellent reviews on Amazon. I was delighted by the fantastic response that my book received, I spent so many long nights and days off working on the book. It was my life for the sixty-seven days that it spent between conception and publication. If there are elements of my work that Cara dislikes, that's through her own personal choice; I can assure every reader that there was not even a smudge on the page of one of my drafts that was not planned. If there are any potential readers that may be concerned over the quality of my writing, I would hope that you can see from the blog posts on this very site, that I am indeed in a very good command of the English Language.

Sometimes, it comes down to a matter of taste. One perfect example is my own frustration with Virginia Woolf. I adore her work 'A room of One's Own', yet cannot abide her more acclaimed novel 'Mrs. Dalloway', even though I desperately want to like it. One size does not fit all. Thankfully.

On the same day as posting her reflections on my book, Cara reviewed the fantastic Lula Lisbon's latest offering 'Back-Alley Slut', which Cara describes as ' Erotica about lesbians and BDSM? Yes please!' This is a book that I feel is far better suited to her tastes, and she rightly awarded Lula's book 10/10. On the back of her review, I am certainly going to download a copy, it does indeed look like a stimulating read.

However, despite Cara's opinions, I shall not be losing any sleep over her taste in books. 'Back-Alley Slut' is sitting at number 415,851 in the Amazon UK best seller list, with no reviews. 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll' is currently 14,651 with five reviews, and an average rating of 4.4/5.


Cara, I am sincerely disappointed that you didn't enjoy my book, and I trust that Amazon gave you a full refund. However, I hope that those of you have read and enjoyed my first venture into the fantastic world of erotica, will be interested in my new book; due out towards the end of June.

To buy 'Dirty Little Fuck Doll' on Amazon, click here
To buy 'Back-Alley Slut' on Amazon, click here
To view Cara's review on her website, click here