Tag Archives: Lucy Felthouse

Scarborough, UK to Host Saucy Seaside Smut Convention

I’ve lived in the UK long enough to know that the only predictable thing about the weather is that it’s unpredictable. However, there are exceptions. I can predict beyond a shadow of a doubt that there will be a sizzling, squirmy, humid heatwave in Scarborough on June 22nd next year. It’s the smutty kind of heatwave that guarantees fun, laughter and a heavy dew, and I promise, you won’t want to miss it.

April 2012, The North, United Kingdom.

Convention for erotica readers and writers to be held in the seaside town of Scarborough on June 22nd, 2013.

Do you like to be beside the seaside? Or more specifically, do you like to be smutty beside the seaside? If so, then the Smut by the Sea Convention and Erotic Marketplace is for you!

The brainchild of Victoria Blisse and Kevin Mitnik, with help from their glamorous assistant, Lucy Felthouse, Smut by the Sea promises to be a smut-filled extravaganza in the beautiful seaside setting of Victorian Scarborough. The town’s library will be hosting the event.

Forget fish and chips, candy floss and ice cream – visit the dedicated Erotic Marketplace, including exhibitors Xcite Books and House of Erotica, with many more yet to be confirmed. Buy toys and books and all manner of saucy things. And don’t forget to get those books signed by the authors in attendance!

You’ll be wriggling in your seat when you attend a range of sexy readings from erotic authors including Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse, K D Grace and Lexie Bay.

Or perhaps you’d like to attend informative panels on getting published, marketing your work and other smut related activities? It’s all covered, so you can check out whatever tickles your fancy!

It’s certainly going to be a fun-filled day – but it doesn’t stop there! In the evening will be the official launch of the Smut by the Sea anthology (calls for submissions available at http://smutbythesea.co.uk/call-for-submissions/, closing date 1st June 2012 – edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse), with readings from the authors, and some seriously saucy swag bags with gifts from sponsors Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium, Total-E-Bound and Lovehoney, to name but a few.

Just as you’re settling down from hearing all those fabulously naughty stories, your heart rate will be rising once more as the result of an intermission with burlesque dancers!

Finally, there will be a Q&A panel with a range of authors, book signings and some good old fashioned networking and socialising.

It’s still early days so there will be lots more authors, sponsors, exhibitors and attendees coming on board as the conference draws closer, but hopefully this has given you an idea of what to expect from Smut by the Sea.

So, what are you waiting for? Mark your diaries for Smut by the Sea, 22nd June 2013. Early Bird tickets have been released, and there are less than 200 available at this bargain price, so make sure to grab yours quick, before it’s too late! http://smutbythesea.eventbrite.co.uk/

Keep your eyes on the following links for further information on sponsors, attending authors, exhibitors and more:

Website: http://smutbythesea.co.uk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/smutbythesea

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/smutbythesea

Also, just for a bit of fun, you can share your seaside themed photos on the Pinterest page: http://pinterest.com/mitnik/smut-by-the-sea/

The event is still taking on more exhibitors, sponsors, speakers and readers, so if you’d like to get involved, please http://smutbythesea.co.uk/contact-us/

About Smut by the Sea

The brainchild of Victoria Blisse and Kevin Mitnik, the Smut by the Sea Erotic Readers & Authors Convention & Erotic Marketplace takes place in Scarborough in June 2013. It will be a smut filled extravaganza with readings, burlesque, panels, Q&As, workshops, erotica and more. See http://smutbythesea.co.uk for more details.

About Blisse UK

Blisse UK is the team of Victoria Blisse and Kevin Mitnik. Specialising in bespoke creations, working together they strive to bring originality and excellence into all that they do. Victoria is an award-winning author & Kevin is a twice Webbie winning web designer. They have over 15 years experience of creating successful websites with a portfolio of recent works available on http://blisseuk.com. Smut by the Sea is a new venture as they combine their love of the seaside with a love of erotica.

 

A Calmedy of Errors

It all started with an email from Jessica Tully Wednesday afternoon late asking if I could be on C5 news on Thursday night. We traded emails then a couple of phone calls and all was set for me to go into the studios in the afternoon to pre-record an segment for a piece they were doing on the rise of erotica for eBooks. It was supposed to run on the five o’clock and the 6:30 news. I began immediately to psych myself for the occasion. It wouldn’t be too scary. After all, it would be pre-recorded.

The day of the big event, I took extra time putting on slap, even emailed to see what I should wear. Then I packed my most sexy, most vicious shoes just in case, god forbid, the camera did a foot shot. Hedgehogs rock for walking, but even my shiny new blank and mauve ones are NSFTV. I looked about as telly-worthy as it’s really possible for an introverted smutter, like me, to look on a Thursday morning. I was just ready to step out the door when the call came. That’s right, my 2.5 minutes of fame had been cancelled. Now while the introvert in my was gasping a sigh of relief, the practical part of me was wondering what the hell I was going to do all made up and dressed to the nines at eleven o’clock on  Thursday morning? It seemed a pity to have wasted the war paint for nothing.

Having worked in television, though in a MUCH smaller market and in what must have surely been another lifetime, I knew that news programmes and plans for stories are always prone to change, not at the last minute, but in the last ten seconds. That much certainly hadn’t changed!

Before I could finish wondering what to do with my now freed-up day, Jessica called back and asked if I’d be willing to do the 6:30 program. LIVE! After I’d finished trembling pathetically, I gulped hard, closed my eyes and said yes, I’d do it. I really HAD worked in television, after all! But I worked with production and NOT in front of the cameras. Oh wait, there was that one Christmas when the powers that be made all of us, individually, don a silly Santa Clause hat, stand in front of the camera, and wish our viewers a Merry Christmas to the soundtrack of a cheesy canned holiday medley. Okay, that’s it then, I’d had experience. I was ready!

Channel 5 was even going to send a car for me! Now you can imagine the vision of a limo with a mini bar and a complimentary masseur (preferably bare-chested with pecs of steel) that went through my mind. They were going to send somebody to prep me en route, the email said. I felt like Jane Bond.

Didn’t happen … Did not happen. After several hours of waiting for the Blackberry to ring, I got a call from an apologetic Monica – Jessica’s

Me at some point during my 2.5 minutes of fame.

assistant – saying they didn’t think they could get a car out my way and get me back through the rush hour traffic in time for the newscast. Would I mind taking a train, I was asked in a small voice. Hell, I’d planned to take a train anyway, so no I didn’t mind — though I really was looking forward to that masseur.

Then Monica handed the phone over to Nick, a news editor, who talked me through what I could expect — not very 007 at all, but still, it’s always fun to talk about smut. After I said good-bye to Nick, I was off for the train station WAAAAY early because, well I have a phobia of being late, and I always allow EXTRA time — specially for my national telly debut.

The Northern and Shell Building, the home of Channel Five offices, is an ultra-modern, tinted glass tower just a block or two from Monument. I signed in, was handed a nametag and told to sit and wait for Fay, who took me upstairs where she showed me a small roped-off area right in the middle of the hive of activity that was the news room. Inside there was a control panel on a trolley and squat, boxy camera that looked like it might double as fabulously creative torture implement in some well-equipped dungeon. In front of the torture camera was a chair just waiting for moi.  Gulp! I was going live remote, all sat there in front of the camera talking to the voice in my ear, a voice only I would hear. Not that I don’t do that from time to time anyway, but never on national television! I wasn’t even going to talk to a real person.

Fay left me sitting at an empty desk next to the torture cam to contemplate my fate while she went in search of coffee. She was gone for a long time. I thought maybe she forgot about me. I just hoped at some point someone would remember that I was there.

With about thirty minutes before air time, Fay came rushing back to the desk where I sat and said the powers that be wanted me in the OTHER studio over by King’s Cross! She then rushed me downstairs, crammed me into a taxi and gave the driver instructions to an address completely unknown to me. Then we race across London to my new destination … Through grid-lock. I think I could have gotten out and ran faster. Except I didn’t know where to run to.

Strangely as the minutes ticked away I found myself getting calmer and calmer as the realization hit me that there was absolutely NOTHING I could do. We would either get there in time or we wouldn’t. I spent the ticking minutes frantically texting and emailing Raymond and Lucy Felthouse and Kay Jaybee, who were all holding my hand remotely, so to speak, and cheering me on. I didn’t know until much later how many other people were cheering me on. I’m still amazed and touched by the outpouring of support.

We arrived at the studio with me climbing into my nosebleed shoes, throwing some money at the wonderful taxi driver, who got me there against all odds and running into the building.

With less than five minutes before my segment was to begin I was thrust into the green room, introduced to Emma Crosby, the anchor, during a commercial break, miked, told not to use bad language and not to be rude, then shoved onto the stage just as the video tape accompanying the segment I was in came to an end.

AND I was on! National telly! In front of everybody and their dog! To me, it felt like I was only up there for two seconds. As I found out later, I was up there long enough to say BDSM and ménage, which I gather had far more of a shock impact than I really intended. I REALLY was trying to behave.

When my 2.5 minutes were up, I was ushered off the stage, unmiked and escorted to the lobby where I was pointed to the nearest tube station, at my request. I’m sure someone would have called me a taxi, but I’d had enough taxis for one day.

I changed back into the Hedgehogs and walked to King’s Cross in a daze. It had all happened so fast, I wasn’t even sure it actually HAD happened. I emailed to say I’d survived the ordeal, then headed home. Raymond picked me up at the train station, took me home and fed me.

...and the books ... they feel so good ...

While I ate, I watched the recorded version of me talk to Emma Crosby about erotica on national TV, like it was something I did every day! It was then I realised that I wasn’t really given a chance to get nervous, in the midst of all the chaos. And sure enough, there was a shoe shot! My feet looked very well dressed, indeed, not as well dressed as Emma’s, of course, but then she WAS the anchor.

After it was all over, and I was settled with a glass of wine reading over Facebook and Twitter conversations about my adventure with Channel 5, I was even more amazed at what had been going on while I was in a taxi struggling to get to my 2.5 minutes. I was astounded by the support of the fabulous community of erotica writers of which I’m a part. The excitement, the well-wishing, the feeling of everyone rooting for me, and the message I was sharing reminded me again of how much we all really believe in what we’re doing. We’re making positive changes in attitudes toward sex. We’re celebrating and reclaiming one of the very best parts of what it is to be human. And wow! That’s so worth believing in!

It was hours before I finally got to sleep, as I played the whole experience over in my head – all of it from the first email from Channel 5, to me looking excitedly over twitter conversations that were going on while friends and fellow smutters were watching me on telly. I’m still trying to take in the whole experience, and I know this may sound strange, but my actual 2.5 minutes was only a small part of the whole. I’m so glad to be a part of something so vibrant and edgy and in-your-face that it burst onto nationally telly proud and naughty and sassy and just getting started!

I woke up the next morning to discover that thanks to my dear friends, Kevin Mitnik, scheming with Lucy Felthouse, the segment was up on youtube. They wanted to surprise me. And it was a wonderful surprise! Thanks lovelies!  You’re the best! Here’s the link if you haven’t seen it yet. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBYornouDXI&feature=youtu.be

Lucy Felthouse Caught in the Act

Kojo Black from Sweetmeats Press asking me to write a story for an anthology seems like such a long time ago now. Flattered that he’d asked me, and even more so when I found out who my fellow bookmates were going to be, I then started to panic. The theme was voyeurism – so broad, and therefore a ton of scope. My brain flailed about madly trying to come up with something. And then, finally, my poor abused grey matter came up with the goods.

I’d write about dogging. Of course, never having been dogging, I knew there’d be a lot of research to do, but I was up to the challenge. My laptop keys were bashed, and Google and its deliciously dirty results were exploited. Before long, I knew everything I could ever need to know about dogging – including where my local meeting places were. Let’s just say that I’ll never look at that car park in the same way ever again. 😉

The next challenge was making sure my story would extend beyond my usual 2 – 4k short story range. Kojo wanted something between 7 – 12k, if I remember rightly. Since then, I’ve penned much longer works and am clawing my way towards novel length works, but at the time, I was terrified. I needn’t have worried. It meant that I could create a lot more build up to the climactic scene, which, consequently meant I could tease and torment the fuck out of my lead character. Poor Dave. He never knew what hit him. I turned a perfectly respectable Police Constable into a voyeuristic slave to kinky sex.

And he loves every minute 😉

Here’s the blurb and an excerpt from my story, Caught in the Act, to whet your appetite:

Blurb:

Police Constable David Beckett is just a normal guy, living a quiet life. His only excitement comes from his job – and even that’s not exactly been a barrel of laughs just lately. That is until his colleagues burst into the office one morning, full of tales from the night shift. Tales that cause Dave’s curiosity to get the better of him. Some idle surfing on the Internet opens up a whole world that Dave never knew existed – and he’s fascinated. After watching an amateur video, things escalate quickly and Dave finds himself drawn into a kinky lifestyle that could cost him his reputation – and his job.

Excerpt:

When the door banged open and a group of his colleagues piled into the room, Police Constable David Beckett jumped, almost spilling his coffee onto his computer keyboard. He’d been enjoying a nice, peaceful game of Solitaire before beginning his shift and now they’d screwed his concentration, not to mention his high score. He closed down the game resignedly and wryly observed his workmates as they got whatever was riling them out of their system.

They were jostling and nudging one another, and there was some serious eyebrow wiggling going on. PC Beckett, Dave to his friends, could only guess that one of the guys had a new girlfriend and was being teased about it. Heaven knows, he’d been on the receiving end of such ribbing more than once, which is why he now kept his – currently non-existent – love life as private as he possibly could. Of course, that didn’t put a complete end to the teasing, as he now had to put up with the occasional joke about his sexuality.

Whatever it was they were talking about, it had gotten the guys seriously excited. As they drew closer to his end of the open plan office, Dave began to pick up snippets of the conversation. It didn’t help him to work out what was going on. In fact, it was like they were speaking a different language. He frowned, wondering if there’d been a TV show on last night that he’d missed and they’d all watched. He wasn’t much of a TV buff and was always the last to catch on to shows everyone else was glued to. But of course they’d all been on a night shift last night, so it couldn’t be that. Dave waited. He knew he’d find out soon enough.

As some of the boys began to move towards Dave’s end of the office, it was like they’d only just realised he was there. Instead of shouting the customary greetings across the room and settling down at their own workstations, several of the PCs congregated at Dave’s desk. They were still wearing stupid grins and Dave was, by now, was getting fed up of being the last one in on the joke.

“So,” Dave said, eager now to find out what all the excitement was about, “what’s going on?”

“Mate!” said Tim, “You wouldn’t believe what you missed last night on shift!”

Sharing stories wasn’t uncommon within the office, particularly if they were funny ones. But in their line of work, there wasn’t much that was classed as unbelievable any more, so Dave knew it was going to be something of note. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

Tim continued, obviously desperate to impart the news. “We got a call sayin’ that there was some drug dealing goin’ on in a car park. It sounded pretty big, so we did a raid. Only, when we got there, it wasn’t quite what we expected.”

Tim glanced at the other two guys with him, Jamie and Chris, and the three of them burst into hearty guffaws. Dave looked around the room, and a couple of other officers who must have also been there were peering over at them out of the corner of their eyes, with smirks on their faces.

“Well!” he said, getting annoyed now, “What is it? What happened?”

“Fucking hell,” said Jamie, “keep your hair on, mate. You’ll think it’s funny, too, honest. We’re just sorry you missed it. Go on, Tim, get on with it.”

Pulling himself together, Tim looked back at Dave, his eyes still crinkled with mirth. “Sorry, buddy. Anyway, as I was sayin’, we gets to this car park at the back of the country park, you know the one” – Dave nodded his acquiescence – “and drive in. We’re going in pretty stealthy as we don’t want anyone disappearing off into the bushes so when we pull up, they’re still gettin’ on with what they were doin’.”

He paused for breath, and Dave waited, knowing this couldn’t possibly be the end of the story.

“Naturally, we was a bit confused as to why they hadn’t spotted us yet. Normally they’re a bit more alert, aren’t they?” The question rhetorical, Tim continued, “So we got out of the cars and got closer, thinkin’ surely someone has heard or seen us by now. Personally, I wondered if they were all so out of their trees that they had no idea what was goin’ on. By the time we got on top of ‘em, though, we saw what the problem was.”
Dave raised his eyebrows, waiting for the punchline. It didn’t take long.

“They weren’t drug dealers, mate!” he said, clapping Dave heavily on the shoulder, almost making him headbutt his computer screen. “They were doggers!”

Want more? Check out the buy links for Immoral Views and Caught in the Act.

Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story – so she did. It went down a storm and she’s never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Constable and Robinson, House of Erotica, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Summerhouse Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour and Seducing the Myth. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

The Cottage in the Woods: The Latest Heat from Lucy Felthouse

A new Lesbian paranormal erotic romance by Lucy Felthouse.

Blurb:

Living in her remote cottage in the woods, Heidi doesn’t get many visitors. So when she spots a fox in her garden, she’s delighted. However, her joy quickly turns to dismay when she thinks the beautiful creature may be injured. Heading out to see how she can help, Heidi is astounded when something happens that makes her question her eyesight – not to mention her sanity. Once she gets over her shock and discovers the reason behind the peculiar encounter, Heidi is mighty glad that the fox chose her garden to visit.

Excerpt:

A movement in the garden caught Heidi’s attention immediately. She peered out into the dark, her hands still immersed in the washing up bowl as she tried to catch another glimpse of whatever was lurking in the darkness outside her kitchen window. She wasn’t frightened, merely curious. She lived so far out in the wilderness that it could only be an animal, and the last time she’d checked, they couldn’t open locked doors. So she was perfectly safe.

What made her nocturnal visitor so unusual was its proximity to the house. Animals were braver in the city, where they’d become used to humans. But out here, they were still timid and very wary of man. Heidi’s little cottage was practically screaming that it was occupied, with its smoking chimney and blazing lights and yet the creature – whatever it was – was almost outside the window. Heidi frowned. Something definitely wasn’t right.

Another flash of movement, and Heidi finally identified her visitor. The beautiful russet fur, big bushy tail with flecks of white – there was a fox in her garden.

Grinning, Heidi rushed to dry her hands on a tea towel and then moved across the room to flick off the light switch. She waited until her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, then made her way back to the window. She spied the fox immediately, crouched down beside the hedge surrounding her garden, as though it was hunting something. A life-long nature lover, Heidi smiled, truly appreciating the stunning beauty of the creature. But the longer Heidi watched the animal, the more confused she became.

The fox hadn’t moved for some time. If it was hunting, surely it would have pounced by now? A sinking feeling rolled through Heidi’s stomach. Perhaps it wasn’t stalking after all, but lying down because it was injured? She knew that out here, if the fox was hurt, it had been attacked by another predator, rather than had a run-in with a moving vehicle. After all, the only vehicle around these parts was hers, so unless her truck had gone all Christine, it certainly wasn’t that.

No, it had to be another animal. It was survival of the fittest, the food chain and all that. She knew how these things worked, but there was no way she could leave the poor creature suffering in her garden. Not if she could do something about it.

Heidi began to plan exactly what to do. She knew that if the fox was injured and couldn’t move, it could snap at her in self-defence, it having no idea that her intentions were good. She desperately wanted to help the vulnerable creature, but preferably without ending up needing stitches and a tetanus shot.

As Heidi gazed into the darkness, trying to work out a solution, she lost her mind. At least, that’s the conclusion she came to as her eyes relayed an image to her brain which couldn’t possibly be accurate.

Book trailer link: http://youtu.be/utJRVepZ6Mw

More info & buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/the-cottage-in-the-woods/

Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story – so she did. It went down a storm and she’s never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Constable and Robinson, House of Erotica, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Summerhouse Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour and Seducing the Myth. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

 

Allotted Views and Veggie Wet Dreams

I already have a reputation for writing garden porn, so when Sweetmeats Press’s fearless leader KoJo Black asked me if I’d write a dirty voyeurism story for the Immoral Views anthology, I knew it had to be garden porn. And here’s why.

Space for veg gardening is at a premium in the urban areas of the UK, and though we live in a bedroom community near London, we still don’t have a lot of space, and we’ve planted up every bit of our garden we can with veg. Every year the lawn gets smaller and the veg patch gets bigger, and we have gardener’s wet dreams of being able to plant all the sweet corn we can eat, or being able to have enough peas to freeze.

Because of where we live, there’s a very long wait for allotments. (For my American readers, allotments are the UK version of Victory Gardens.) We put in for an allotment three years ago. We live in hope. And in the meantime, the lawn still gets smaller.

There are some gorgeous allotments on one of our favourite walking paths set on the edge of the lovely village of Sheer along the Tillingbourne River. Every time we walk that route, we linger and gaze longingly over the fence at the brassicas and strawberries and runner beans and every other veg and fruit imaginable. We do that at every allotment, actually, we give it our best voyeuristic look-see, our pulse rates accelerate, and we talk dirty to each other – you know, compost-type dirty, phallic veg, type dirty, luscious, probing the earth type dirty. Oh yes, how we fantasise!

That was the actual inspiration for my story of Rose, who lives in a big house overlooking the Bluebell Street Allotments, and Jonathan, who is assigned the plot right below her bedroom window. His nasty, unorthodox gardening techniques get Rose’s full attention, and give her hours of filthy, blissful entertainment. But just how secret is her voyeuristic pleasure? Does Jonathan know more than he’s letting on?

Blurb:

When the mysterious JONATHAN takes on the thin strip of bramble-infested ground in the Blue Bell Street Allotments, veg gardener extraordinaire, ROSE, whose bedroom window overlooks his ‘small holding,’ wonders what idiot would take on such a project. When she ‘accidentally’ sees him chanting a bit of woo-woo and having a midnight wank under a full moon in his newly rotovated plot, she suspects his methods aren’t found in any RHS manual.

As watching his late night garden antics becomes more for voyeuristic pleasure than for sussing out sound horticultural practices, and as Jonathan’s garden grows more exquisite with every wank, Rose begins to wonder if there just might be something to a little sex woo-woo in the garden. But can she learn Jonathan’s secret without him learning hers, or will she be forced to come clean?

Excerpt:

Before my eyes, he stepped out of a pair of ratty Birkenstocks and slid baggy cargo trousers off over his straight hips and the pillowed swell of his bottom. He kicked them carelessly to one side. Apparently the occasion had called for commando, and I didn’t have to endure more disrobing before I was treated to the full-on. He was heavy, but not yet erect, hanging as though the weight of his cock was too much to comfortably bear so precariously stretched between his thighs. It sprawled over the rounded outward press of his balls in their cushion of springy curls that looked nearly transparent in the pale light.

The moon was a burnished disk, peeking through the branches of the lime trees on the far edge of the allotments. He stood with his back to it and his expanding personal geography facing my window. Then he raised his head, and my heart did a guilty flip-flop, certain he’d caught me watching. But he couldn’t possibly see me, I reassured myself as he stood there eyes lifted, chest rising and falling beneath the twin peaks of those exquisite nipples, rising and falling almost as though he were about to lift his voice in song and serenade me. But serenading wasn’t what he had in mind.

I held my breath. My pulse was a frantic flutter against my throat. My eyes stung from not blinking, not wanting to miss anything. Then his right hand took control of his penis with a firm grip, a gardener’s grip, a gardener who knew the proper use of his tools. At the moment of contact a shudder ran up his straight spine, and a tight grunt followed by a throaty sigh escaped his parted full lips.

It wasn’t until then that I believed the man was actually going to do it. He was actually going to have a wank right there on his well-rotovated allotment. And at that same moment, my own plan of action became equally evident. I was not going to go back to bed and give the man his privacy, privacy he didn’t even know he no longer had, so would obviously not miss. I was going to stay right where I was and watch. I was going to watch until the fat lady sang, and I was going to have a little diddle of my own. If he could be so brazen to cause such a disturbance just below my window on a work night, then I could be brazen too.

Buy links:

Amazon UK (paperback)
Smashwords