Wisteria Moon

Books by Tilly Rivers

Wisteria Robe

18202Copyright ©2006 Rain Publishing Inc. From the book: Wisteria Moon, Author: Tilly Rivers

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

ISBN 10: 1-897381-07-7
ISBN 13: 978-1-897381-07-6

Cover Design and layout by
Kara Elsberry

Printed in Canada

CAUTION: Please be advised that Wisteria Moon is an erotica genre.  There is explicit sexual content as well as descriptive scenes and language involving sexual practices as part of the storyline and plot.

Dedication

To the one that is capable of dancing with my mind as well as my body.  The Key.   To lady moon and the mystic sun.  To the realms of beyond and under, over and around, for here is where you will find me.

WISTERIA ROBE

He went to the altar, laid his hand upon the stone and closed his eyes, calling the Wisteria Witch….

He watched the group of men and women gathered around the stone altar and breathed in the singing air of anticipation of what was to come.

The blanket of night and fog billowed around them like a mystic covering from the outside world.

The mist-formed shapes left impressions of embracing lovers. The ebony sky glimmered with an aura of power and waited for her presence.

The legend of the Wisteria Witch and her robe ceremony was deeply embedded in her homeland.

The tale of the sexual ritual of a witch, a high priestess with profound powers, was whispered among the natives in equal parts of fear and awe.
Few truly witnessed the sacred ceremony.

The ones that did witness kept its secrets.

The whispered chants of her name floated in the air. The goddess they all sought and feared. She was pure, raw sexuality manifested.

The willow and rowan swayed softly in unison with their partner zephyr. Leaf, branch, and wind merged under the moon performing nature’s own sexual rite.

He was uncertain of what to expect within the folds of the wisteria robe ceremony. He only knew that he was meant to be here. He felt the calling; the pull that tonight would alter his life and he welcomed the change.

He stood with pride and confidence under the soft velvet folds of the wisteria robe. The material stimulated your naked flesh; tiny life-like sparks caressed you everywhere at once, molding to your frame, worshipping you.

Naked glimpses of bodies teased the senses everywhere you looked. Hard nipples of women pushed enticingly against the caressing robes. Secret shadows and soft moans were hints of urgent passion flaring.

The hoods of the robes covered the guests’ faces adding to the aura of secrecy and sensual mystery unlike any other.

He was part of the semicircle around the back of the altar, yet felt apart. Tonight he would be the chosen one to touch her. He knew it because he felt the call and waited.

The mist flared higher, changing their frantic pose, colors mixed with the transparent miasma.

She was close. Her presence was felt before her form appeared. Currents of sweetness bred. His body tingled with sensation as the robe altered from light touches to excited petting motions, opening the full breadth and beauty of the sensual.

His body eased with joyful sensation, letting the robe and his surroundings touch him in ecstasy. From his inner core, an inside flame ignited to an overwhelming energy of linked spiritual lust.

Each body became combined to one. A current of pure lust, massage of heat, a force, as desire and passion expanded from the inside to the outside covering of flesh. Power. Raw hunger of each thought, each caress, each sensation of the group now one.

Cardinal desire fused heightened feelings of need until they no longer were a mass but one sensation of savage sexual essence.

Soft blue flickers of breath formed a ring of fire around her ankles. Worshipping, feeding.

Her gown was transparent, violet threads of glimmered nothing, touching her curves like a waterfall of desire. The garment split down the front of her being, drawing your attention to each secret tease of her body.

Her hair flowed loose, tickling the back of her neck and shoulders. The soft blue flames of luminous light flowed as she walked. Each step of pure blue flame floated around her, disappearing only to reappear again as each step glided closer to the altar and the gathered pagans that had come.

This night.
The night of the wisteria robe.
This witch.
The night of the wisteria witch.

No one moved as the ring of blue circled behind his or her body. No one moved, as the flames grew higher, alive. The flame ring crackled with vitality, forming a complete circle around them.

He thought about the flame and that there was no heat.

She turned to him with a tiny wisp of a smile. Her voiceless words echoed softly in his mind. “No heat?”

His body instantly withered with intense desire, need, and cravings of sexual release. “No earthly heat,” he corrected instantly and her smile widened before reducing the erotic torture.

Pausing at the stone altar she slowly slid her fingers under the violet strands of her gown. Instantly, hands of creatures not seen before, were there to remove the garment. He watched the small creatures, her slaves, with fascinated interest.

Small, almost troll-like beings swarmed her. Here, gone instantly. Conjured images.

Hundreds burst into the circle surrounding her naked form, fingers caressing and pulling at her body. She pet them with tenderness as one would a beloved dog or cat.

One was braver, or the leader. He placed his hand on her smooth mound. His finger rammed inside her folds. Her head snapped back. The wind carried the scream of her moan to every watching pagan. The jolt of sensation she was feeling quivered in each of them.

Moans filled the air, echoing her gasps. Her body twisted in shared ecstasy.

He stood transfixed as he watched the creatures touch her. He felt his skin tingle, indents of invisible fingers moved along his burning body. Every touch, every burning caress upon her flesh was transcended onto each of the worshippers.

Standing within the ring of fire he watched as the creatures lifted her reverently unto the altar. She waved her fingers to them and smiled.

Each creature went to the guests, removing the robes. Her commands rolled silently, a melody of desire calling to her pets. She spoke to them as to whom she would be choosing this night.

The chant of “me” rang out. Silent pleads in their minds. Linked thoughts.

“Me. Let the wisteria witch choose me.”

Each had a deep-rooted appetite to be the one. “Me.” The voices grew louder, more urgent and he heard his own voice mingled with the others. “Me,” he begged, “Please me.”

The creature came closer to him and he smiled. Yes. Yes.

The imp looked up and smiled back only to take the hand of the female next to him. A shudder went through the crowd, equal parts disappointment at not being the chosen one mixed with excitement.

They all knew that with each sensation that the wisteria witch felt, they too would feel. Each touch, each soft gasp would vibrate to their very core and burn inside their flesh.

He watched as the eager chosen one ran to the altar to worship the witch lying there. He watched and felt the chosen one’s lips kiss the sole of the witch’s feet, waiting for permission to touch her.

The crowd waited in awe as the witch gave a small nod of her head giving the chosen female permission to continue.

His flesh quivered as the chosen one’s tongue licked up the witch’s calf to her inner thigh and finally to her pulsating wet pussy.

They all tasted her as the chosen one was, like the nectar of heaven.

Bodies around him began to merge, partners, groups, touching. Lying upon the earth, they copied the actions of the chosen one worshipping the witch.

He resisted the need to be one in the group, standing, feeling, and watching the two women on the altar, the goddess and the chosen one feeding from the flesh of the witch.

The creatures joined the withering bodies on the ground, partaking in the offerings, licking the women’s heated pussies, playing with their sensitive breasts, biting nipples from one to the other, taking them to the edge of release only to pause. Sensual torture.

Control broke; men rammed their aching cocks in wet holes of pussy, mouth, and ass. Hands grasped, pulled and pushed.

Harder movements, deep thrusts, release. Cocks being mouth fucked. Couples were on all fours, beasts and beauty fusing to one.

He stood and watched her, felt the sensations of the crowd, of the wisteria witch and nearly screamed with the need to be inside her. The witch lifted her head. “Forward,” she beckoned him. His steps were quick, eager and he too kissed the sole of her feet, waiting for her commands.

“Suck him,” she commanded the female slave. “Suck his hard cock for me.” The chosen one eagerly did the witch’s bidding; placing her lips still coated in her pussy juice over the head of his cock.

His eyes locked with that of the goddess as the slave sucked his cock.

“What do you want?”

“To bury my cock so fucking deep inside your pussy that you scream; to fuck you so hard that we no longer know dark from light, or sin from good. I want to be the beast that feeds and is fed from you until I scream.”

“Let me watch you fuck her. Fuck her like you want to fuck me.”

The chosen one crawled on the altar beside the goddess, lifting her ass in the air for him. Her tongue snaked out to the waiting pussy of the witch. Placing her hands behind her back, arching her body forward, the witch positioned herself so she was capable of watching him slide his cock inside the other and still be able to see the slave lick her pussy.

The crowd moaned and gyrated around them. Pagan slaves in sensual hunger. Feeding, being fed the gifts from the wisteria witch. The creatures lapped up the flesh of the bodies and they moved as one entity upon the earth around the three on the altar above them.

His cock rammed inside the chosen one’s pussy folds. With each thrust he thought of the goddess. Bucking his body harder and deeper into the woman who was moaning under him as she continued to lick and suck the sweet pussy of the witch.

Her tongue jutted in and out of the witch’s wet heat, until the witch placed her hand on the woman’s head and commanded her to move.

The three changed positions, as he knelt in front of her and placed his hands under the witch’s ass. The witch placed her feet on the stone plank on either side of him, lifted her pelvis and met his urgent trust.

So wet. So hot.

Her pussy met his, thrust after urgent thrust. The female slave, licked, caressed and touched each of them as they took from the other until they both screamed into the night under the power of the moon and the blessing of the willow and the rowan trees.

Took until the night blanket became the break of dawn, the blue flames became morning haze. They took until the echo of the wisteria witch’s cry of ecstasy ran over the homeland.

He watched the group of men and women depart. Breathing in the singing air of what they experienced; the ritual of the Wisteria Robe. The secrets buried within.

Once more he went back to the altar. Laid his hand upon the stone and closed his eyes. Calling the wisteria witch….

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An erotic tease, short story by Tilly

Welcome Home, Tilly Rivers

Welcome Home

As she turned her key in the front door, she sighed. It had been a long tour and she was so tired!  The front door swung open and she slid out of her pumps in the small entryway, tossing her bags and jacket carelessly onto the floor.

She stepped around the corner into the living room, surprised to see the burning candles scattered throughout the room.

A small smile lit her face as she continued on to the dining area; the table that had been covered with paperwork the morning she had left was cleaned and set for two, again with scented candles flickering.

She peeked into the kitchen and there he stood, wearing torn faded jeans and a cream-colored sweater, at the stove stirring something that smelled delicious.  “Mmmm, this is a surprise.  What is it all about?”

He turned to her and wrapped his strong arms around her frame, enfolding her into a warm embrace.  His voice tickled against her ear as he whispered, “All of this is because I missed you more than anything and I wanted to make sure you knew that.”

His lips moved over hers and kissed her, slow and deep, with a passion that emphasized his words, echoing within her cavity how much he had missed her; missed them.

Her body instantly responded and she pressed herself closer.  His subdued groan vibrated against her softness and warmth while his cock hardened almost immediately.

They had both been apart too long.  At times he thought of her as a mystical ghost, here for only brief moments before gone again.

Stroking her back in firm long caresses, gently kneading her shoulders down to the small of her back only to return up the same path of sensuality he was creating with his eager touches.

She let her hands smooth over the sleek muscles of his back, savoring the potency that exuded between them.  She had missed this so much!  It felt like forever had passed since they had actually spent any time together.  Her eyes closed and she returned his impatient kisses with ones of her own.

All too soon he gently pulled away, brushing a wayward strand of hair from her face.  “I made chicken and salad.  Let’s enjoy the meal so we can then enjoy each other.”

She didn’t care about the food he was offering.  Her appetite was for his naked flesh upon hers; to feel his hard cock once more rubbing against her thigh, her pelvis, strong evidence of how much he had missed her.

Yet he went to so much trouble.  She smiled, placing her desires on hold.  Closing her eyes she sent up a mental wish for the food to be consumed quickly so she could feed her true hunger.

They sat down together and ate their dinner talking about all of the things that they had fallen behind on with each other.  Each phrase, each syllable was marked with tiny touches, knowing glances, waiting for the true quest to start.

Her lust pounded in her ears all but drowning out everything except the ache to be touched.  She watched his intense eyes as he spoke, remembering…..

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Note: Sorry folks, can’t add the rest as it is pretty XXX rated, and not allowed for such a public forum. This story is one of many in “Wisteria Moon” by me- and I hope you loved reading  the book as much as I did writing it. What?…you don’t have a copy? Hmmm…maybe you can still get one online at Amazon.com- not sure, or maybe a friend?

~smiles~ love & hugs my friends.

XOXO

Short story anyone? CAUTION I bid thee, once you enter fantasy with me, you may not wish to return to reality.

As SEEN in Wisteria Moon, by Tilly Rivers. © this story, and picture are copyright protected by international copyright law.

“Wisteria Robe” is one of the short stories taken from Wisteria Moon, please note, this story contains explicit sexual content and language that may offend some readers.

Wisteria Robe

As seen in Wisteria Moon by Tilly Rivers

He went to the altar, laid his hand upon the stone and closed his eyes, calling the Wisteria Witch….

He watched the group of men and women gathered around the stone altar and breathed in the singing air of anticipation of what was to come.

The blanket of night and fog billowed around them like a mystic covering from the outside world.

The mist-formed shapes left impressions of embracing lovers.  The ebony sky glimmered with an aura of power and waited for her presence.

The legend of the Wisteria Witch and her robe ceremony was deeply embedded in her homeland.

The tale of the sexual ritual of a witch, a high priestess with profound powers, was whispered among the natives in equal parts of fear and awe.

Few truly witnessed the sacred ceremony.

The ones that did witness kept its secrets.

The whispered chants of her name floated in the air.  The goddess they all sought and feared.  She was pure, raw sexuality manifested.

The willow and rowan swayed softly in unison with their partner zephyr.  Leaf, branch, and wind merged under the moon performing nature’s own sexual rite.

He was uncertain of what to expect within the folds of the wisteria robe ceremony.  He only knew that he was meant to be here.  He felt the calling; the pull that tonight would alter his life and he welcomed the change.

He stood with pride and confidence under the soft velvet folds of the wisteria robe.  The material stimulated your naked flesh; tiny life-like sparks caressed you everywhere at once, molding to your frame, worshipping you.

Naked glimpses of bodies teased the senses everywhere you looked.  Hard nipples of women pushed enticingly against the caressing robes. Secret shadows and soft moans were hints of urgent passion flaring.

The hoods of the robes covered the guests’ faces adding to the aura of secrecy and sensual mystery unlike any other.

He was part of the semicircle around the back of the altar, yet felt apart.  Tonight he would be the chosen one to touch her.  He knew it because he felt the call and waited.

The mist flared higher, changing their frantic pose, colors mixed with the transparent miasma.

She was close.  Her presence was felt before her form appeared.  Currents of sweetness bred.  His body tingled with sensation as the robe altered from light touches to excited petting motions, opening the full breadth and beauty of the sensual.

His body eased with joyful sensation, letting the robe and his surroundings touch him in ecstasy.  From his inner core, an inside flame ignited to an overwhelming energy of linked spiritual lust.

Each body became combined to one.  A current of pure lust, massage of heat, a force, as desire and passion expanded from the inside to the outside covering of flesh.  Power.  Raw hunger of each thought, each caress, each sensation of the group now one.

Cardinal desire fused heightened feelings of need until they no longer were a mass but one sensation of savage sexual essence.

Soft blue flickers of breath formed a ring of fire around her ankles.  Worshipping, feeding.

Her gown was transparent, violet threads of glimmered nothing, touching her curves like a waterfall of desire.  The garment split down the front of her being, drawing your attention to each secret tease of her body.

Her hair flowed loose, tickling the back of her neck and shoulders.  The soft blue flames of luminous light flowed as she walked.  Each step of pure blue flame floated around her, disappearing only to reappear again as each step glided closer to the altar and the gathered pagans that had come.

This night.

The night of the wisteria robe.

This witch.

The night of the wisteria witch.

No one moved as the ring of blue circled behind his or her body.  No one moved, as the flames grew higher, alive.  The flame ring crackled with vitality, forming a complete circle around them.

He thought about the flame and that there was no heat.

She turned to him with a tiny wisp of a smile.  Her voiceless words echoed softly in his mind. “No heat?”

His body instantly withered with intense desire, need, and cravings of sexual release.  “No earthly heat,” he corrected instantly and her smile widened before reducing the erotic torture.

Pausing at the stone altar she slowly slid her fingers under the violet strands of her gown. Instantly, hands of creatures not seen before, were there to remove the garment.  He watched the small creatures, her slaves, with fascinated interest.

Small, almost troll-like beings swarmed her.  Here, gone instantly.  Conjured images.

Hundreds burst into the circle surrounding her naked form, fingers caressing and pulling at her body.  She pet them with tenderness as one would a beloved dog or cat.

One was braver, or the leader.  He placed his hand on her smooth mound.  His finger rammed inside her folds.  Her head snapped back. The wind carried the scream of her moan to every watching pagan.  The jolt of sensation she was feeling quivered in each of them.

Moans filled the air, echoing her gasps.  Her body twisted in shared ecstasy.

He stood transfixed as he watched the creatures touch her.  He felt his skin tingle, indents of invisible fingers moved along his burning body.  Every touch, every burning caress upon her flesh was transcended onto each of the worshippers.

Standing within the ring of fire he watched as the creatures lifted her reverently unto the altar.  She waved her fingers to them and smiled.

Each creature went to the guests, removing the robes.  Her commands rolled silently, a melody of desire calling to her pets.  She spoke to them as to whom she would be choosing this night.

The chant of “me” rang out.  Silent pleads in their minds.  Linked thoughts.

“Me.  Let the wisteria witch choose me.”

Each had a deep-rooted appetite to be the one.  “Me.”  The voices grew louder, more urgent and he heard his own voice mingled with the others.  “Me,” he begged, “Please me.”

The creature came closer to him and he smiled. Yes. Yes.

The imp looked up and smiled back only to take the hand of the female next to him.  A shudder went through the crowd, equal parts disappointment at not being the chosen one mixed with excitement.

They all knew that with each sensation that the wisteria witch felt, they too would feel.  Each touch, each soft gasp would vibrate to their very core and burn inside their flesh.

He watched as the eager chosen one ran to the altar to worship the witch lying there.  He watched and felt the chosen one’s lips kiss the sole of the witch’s feet, waiting for permission to touch her.

The crowd waited in awe as the witch gave a small nod of her head giving the chosen female permission to continue.

His flesh quivered as the chosen one’s tongue licked up the witch’s calf to her inner thigh and finally to her pulsating wet pussy.

They all tasted her as the chosen one was, like the nectar of heaven.

*If you wish to continue reading this story, please drop me a line and I will send you a pdf copy of the complete story.

As seen in Wisteria Moon: A teaser….Ancient Wolf Call…

Please note that my erotica stories contain content that may offend some readers, explicit language and sexual themes are present. Reader caution is STRONGLY advised.

Ancient Wolf Call, Tilly Rivers

Ancient Wolf Call

By Tilly Rivers, copyright protected.

That is when she saw him.  Standing barely two hundred yards from where she stood along the lake edge, and just outside of the tree line, the massive wolf began to take form.

He was silver, so beautiful, and as he approached nearer…so ancient.  Eyes that were bluish, and yet almost opaque looked right through her.  Primal and wild eyes and yet knowing and intelligent.  Eyes that you stared at, eyes that made you lose all sense of reality.  Eyes that made you think of dusk and desire and secret longings you did not even know you harbored until that moment.  His eyes touched her soul, and awakened something long forgotten within her.

Each time she closed her own eyes she was haunted by the ones so crisp and alive in her memory.  An awakening was indeed happening, but she had no idea where it would lead her.  She dreamed of the wolf no longer a wolf at all, yet still the beast.  A blend of beast and man and the fantasy comforted her dreams until dreaming was not enough and she had to discover if the mystic pull was indeed her fantasy or reality.

She knew it was crazy, unsafe even, yet the longing to reach out and stroke his fur, to feel the softness against her cheek, to feel the beating of his heart was stronger than any grounding in the “normal.”  She felt his call each night and the magnetic pull was stronger each night until she could no longer resist the calling.

With the security and light of the lady moon she slowly walked back to the lake and waited.  She sensed his presence, turned to find him, wolf now man.  Beautiful, sexy and demanding.  Without waiting or invitation, his lips were upon hers, soft and sweet, mixed with daring and command.  He expressed his longing, desire, and need. She was his willing prey, snared in his power of savage demand.

She felt his passion and found that ancient wolf once more.  As a man, he was still dark, primal, and strong.  A man she had known for so long yet never met; secrets that only time and magic could unveil.  Every time he brushed his body against hers, he sent shivers throughout her entire being and beyond.  Memories of him, from another time and another place filled her.  With a witch’s kiss, she kissed him in return.  Everything within her poured within that kiss; it was a kiss of dangerous passion, and of a love that had never died.

His eyes never questioned whether she wanted more.  He took what he knew was his.  His lips were full and exquisite… they knew how to touch her, kiss her.  All she wanted was to taste his kiss, to feel his touch set her on fire.  Without saying a word, she sank slowly to her knees upon the natural blanket of green under the stars and moon….

If you would like to read the rest of this story, drop me a line and I would be happy to send it to you.

Visions, By Tilly Rivers

Visions

SAMPLE STORY BY TILLY RIVERS

PLEASE NOTE; All copyrights still apply to my work(s)- you are more then welcome to contact me for any of my poems, stories or other materials on this blog, I will be happy to send them to you, with my permission to repost. Of course, with credit to the author.

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She leaned her head back on the rest behind her. The airplane seat was smaller than the first class seats she was used to sitting in.  However, her mind was not on the smaller chair, it was on the encounter she had just come from.

She could not believe that was her, the bold daring woman that had come upon her body and made all of her wishes come true.

She had no idea how it happened.  It was as if another life source had entered her soul and took control.  Thankful it had, for she would not have done what this energy creation had.

She would have cringed and hid in the shadows like always, and right now, instead of the smile that played on her lips and the memories that filled her mind, she would be sitting in her cold seat with a mind tumbling with regrets.

She closed her eyes, remembering.  From the time she first saw him, it was as if her new spirit had recognized him, hungered for him, a kindred spirit of fusion that knew each other from before.

It was bizarre, but then, the whole encounter was, and for the first time ever she had, and still was, embracing that difference, in place of shunning it.

It had all started with a five-year-old girl; the magical imp was dancing in the water fountain on the square.  Completely clothed, and clearly having the time of her life.  When her small voice had piped up to speak with her, it was then, at that moment, that her new self had come alive.

“Hi, lady,” the small voice had boldly begun a conversation.

“Hello.”

As seen in Wisteria Moon

Visions, By Tilly Rivers

She smiled.

“Having fun?”

“Oh yes,” she giggled.  “Daddy isn’t though.  He has been trying to get me out of the fountain for some time.”

“And why don’t you get out of the fountain, imp?”

“Because, he works too much, and I want him to come in the water and play.”  The child grinned. “He says big people do not play in fountains.”  Her tiny voice mimicked that of a deeper voice.

She smiled. “Is that right?”  Slipping off her shoes, she pulled her skirt up and climbed into the round body of water. The little girl’s smile was wider.  Leaning down, the imp pooled water into the cup of her hand and sprayed it at her.

Her laughter is what caught his attention…the sweet chord vibrated down his spine to land with a solid thud in the middle of his groin.  He was instantly hard.  It was a desire that he could not explain; a craving that came over him with a sweet vengeance.

He closed his cell phone, disconnecting the party to whom he was speaking, without even a good-bye.  He stared at the beauty dancing in the fountain with his daughter.  She had pulled her skirt up and tucked into the waistband, the white blouse now soaked, showing her dark lacy bra, and full erect nipples.

Her hair was soaked, streaming down her back, the water dripping off the curly ends unto her skin.  Her laughter ran free, and she was showing his daughter how to dance….

The child’s mother spoke from behind him.  “It looks like they are having fun.”

Words would not pass from his throat…. Is that what it looked like?  Fun…. No, he thought she looked like a wet mermaid fantasy coming to life.  His groin grew tighter.

He heard the child’s mother call his daughter, saw the look of regret on both of their faces that playtime was over.  Yet he could not tare his eyes away from the water fairy before him.

… a sample…just a tease… of one of the stories as seen in Wisteria Moon, By Tilly Rivers.

Always Exciting

Wisteria Moon

Wisteria Moon by Tilly Rivers

Wisteria Moon by Tilly Rivers

The legend of the Wisteria Witch is born– discover the ritual in which willing subjects are lured to a magickal place where they discover pleasure beyond measure !

“These stories will capture your mind and draw you into the world of fantasy with the ultimate Goddess of Erotica.”  Ed Holiday, Maximum Magazine

Once you enter into the world of fantasy with me, you may never wish reality!” ~Tilly Rivers~

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Wisteria Moon was an exciting book to write and quickly became a best seller. I have been asked to offer Wisteria Moon as an e-Book. So….watch now cause Wisteria Moon maybe launched as an ebook version soon. As a matter of fact…all my erotica books might be hitting the “E” very soon….

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