Miss Ava Sterling recently commented on my blog and curiosity got the better of me so I checked out her site and fell in love with her erotica. Her work is juicy, sexy, sassy, and I have deep respect for the level or bravery it takes to publish erotica. I asked her if she would like to post her books and a writing sample on Tantrachick…so please show her some love! Introducing the sensuous Miss Ava Sterling!
Ava Sterling Bio:
Like many of you, I am a voracious reader. While I enjoy a wide variety of genres, one that I keep coming back to is erotica. In a world of annoying coworkers, sterile interactions, unfulfilled fantasies, schedule books, and monotony, we search for something that makes us feel that . . . fire, that passion, again. That’s where I come in.
I write steamy stories that make people curl their toes, grip the edges of the sheets, and forget to take dinner out of the oven. I believe that erotica stories deserve a plot, characters, and decent editing.
I hope you’ll give one of my stories a read. Go on, have a YOU moment. You deserve it.
Follow me at: www.avasterlingauthor.wordpress.com
Book blurb – Seducing My Lesbian Professor:
Erin has a problem. She’s attracted to one of her students.
Maybe it was the long chats after class or the flirty looks Cassia gave her, but Erin can’t take it anymore. She has to make her move. Except Cassia doesn’t show for their normal after-hours chat. With the semester at an end, Erin thinks it’s all over until she hears a knock at her door.
She could be fired if anyone finds out.
Forbidden fruit tastes so good.
At ten minutes to twelve, Erin started a pot of coffee and unlocked the door. She tucked the pile of papers from her freshman seminar into a corner where no prying eyes would try to glean their grade before their time and waited for the trickle of students to begin. This late in the semester, she knew to expect a steady flow; students were desperate to save the grades they’d spent the past couple of months neglecting.
She tried not to let it irritate her, although it usually did. Up until this point, she knew who to expect; the well-meaning but confused students who had never learned how to write a research paper. Those students in particular lit a fire in Erin, strong enough to keep her going through the frat boys who tried to flirt their way out of failing grades and over-partied girls whose tears about their GPA were mostly hangover-induced. At least there were some students who cared.
She did, of course, have a favorite. She played favorites shamelessly, without questioning it. There were students who put in the effort and students who did not. Students who were driven and bright, who cared about the study of history and defended it passionately while some students questioned the reason for teaching it at all.
Since September, when Cassia had presented herself at Erin’s door with questions regarding the role of the Anglican Church officers during the American Revolutionary War, she’d taken a spot in Erin’s heart as well as at the head of the class.
Of course, Erin admitted to herself in moments of weakness that opportunities for mentorship rarely presented themselves in such an attractive package. Short and fiery with a cap of black curls framing her heart-shaped face, Cassia was certainly something to look at, though Erin tried not to. Even though Erin was just brushing thirty to Cassia’s twenty-one, as long as Cassia was her student, she couldn’t be anything more.
This was made more difficult because Cassia didn’t only fascinate Erin, she inspired and challenged her. Over cups of black coffee they had hotly debated the loyalty of Charles Lee to the American cause, Benedict Arnold’s turning point in relation to his frustrations with Washington, and whether the Marquis de Lafayette had really escaped France to join the American cause by dressing as a woman.
Their conversations were full of laughter, seeming to stretch on for hours with neither of them worrying about the time until they were parted by intrusive knocks at the door. Cassia always groaned as she lifted her backpack, leaving a half-finished cup of coffee with lipstick across the rim, promising to continue later.
Erin couldn’t help wishing that after four, when she locked the door once more before her class on constitutional history started, Cassia would be on the other side, asking to come in and make one last point.
However, constitutional history class had ended, and she only had one last set of office hours between her and closing the gradebook on a semester she’d enjoyed. And while her phone was ringing off the hook with freshmen on the other end desperately trying to make excuses as to why they deserved that extra point she wouldn’t be giving them, few people actually showed up.
Cassia hadn’t shown at her customary time, or any moment after. And why would she when she had the highest grade in the class? Erin tried not to feel disappointed with every passing knock at the door. The girl could do as she pleased. Maybe they’d see each other next semester, though Cassia wasn’t in any of her rosters, so that was a questionable prospect. It’s fine, Erin thought. I’m not getting upset over a twenty-one-year-old girl. I’m not.
But that was a lie.
Where to find it:
Thanks again, Joy. I appreciate the opportunity to share.