When people think of erotic fiction, they often picture silk sheets, candlelight, and softly-lit bedrooms. But for me, that’s never been the whole story. Eroticism isn’t just about fantasy—it’s about tension, need, friction, and often, mess. Real life doesn’t happen in clean lines, and neither does desire.
So while I was publishing The Clockmaker's Rewind, I set myself a challenge: write stories where sex blooms in places we don’t usually consider erotic.
The result is a series of gritty, unfiltered, deeply physical encounters in unlikely places. The first-A Riot of Lust-unfolds between two dumpsters during a protest gone wrong, where the trash stinks, the concrete burns, and the chemistry is undeniable.
My latest, Dirt and Desire, takes place inside a broken-down chicken coop on a struggling farm, where straw sticks to sweat, the air reeks of ammonia, and yet—the heat between two rough, stubborn bodies burns hot enough to brand.
Why a coop? Because I wanted to see if I could make it real. I wanted the reader to feel the straw underfoot, the rooster screaming, the sweat running down your back, and still be pulled into a moment that’s intimate and hot and alive with urgency.
These aren’t stories about luxury. They’re about need. About bodies that collide because they have to. About people who find heat and connection in the dirtiest corners of their lives—because that’s where it actually happens sometimes.
If you’ve ever felt something stir in a place you thought was too raw, too loud, too filthy to hold tenderness, then these stories are for you.
Dirt and Desire is now live. Read it with the windows open and a thunderstorm coming in.
Eric