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This wonderfully crafted tale spans one evening, with the author using flashbacks to paint the slate of her creations. She takes measures to slow the passing of time, instilling a sense of dread and gloom. Magnified by well proportioned chapters that jolt the reader in and out of the time stream, Ms. Jacobs delivers sound storytelling, with character lamentations that drive the story, equaling time on the clock. So were memories heralding their lusty Internet beginnings; an elevator ride and a walk down the hall is a journey within  a journey, the author also using impatience as a tool to reveal the true nature of the beast.

Anticipation also affected the time sense. Jeff and Jeanine’s surface reason for meeting at The RestStop was for a session of extreme sex. Their excitement was infectious, with mutually driven bliss giving rise to visions of past conquests, bathing the reader in flickering lights, reliving past expressions of their flagrant lustfulness.

With both parties claiming sexual abuse in their histories, the players were victims by their own right and pinpointing the antagonist will be a heavenly task for the reader. Both parties  are the product of incidents that leaves them mentally crippled and in some sense, ageless. In one case, the perpetrator extended the further courtesy of forgetting his victim after the unspeakable act was committed. In the other,  those that witnessed atrocities were left feeling disengaged and predacious.

Some of these missteps were a products of the last generation. These flashbacks also set the stage to avenge a wrong created in THIS generation, rendering the aggressor  blameless, depending on the point of view.

Jeff was a product of his environment; he hated women. Rather, he thought he hated women. Either way, his upbringing made not a lot of accommodations for women, ladies, or anything maternal, his only appreciation being that of unattached pleasure.

One could classify this as a tale of Man vs. Self. Said issues were instilled in the players by generational devices, allowing the reader to feel empathetic for the characters even at their most vile.

That being said, once themes of retribution and revenge are sprinkled into the equation, the true victim remains unclear and things begin to proceed in fashions unforeseen. A chance Internet meeting, they both participate in the orchestration of  engagement, with one both parties seeking to make a statement of the occasion.
Sex as a weapon; a weapon of distraction, of dominance, of degradation.

Ms. Jacobs’ concoction is a tasty pleasure, a sweet treat.

Ð. Stylz

Editor in Chief

Chaklet Coffee Books

It was my pleasure to read Erotica Unveiled, a
novel that delivers heat in nineteen chapters.

Her stories are like glass etchings; hard,
elegant, and precise artwork, with heat added
through bold strokes of color and imagery. Told
in grand fashion, male and female readers
alike will appreciate the method of  story telling
employed by this New York native, effortlessly
depicting scene after scene of seductive word
manipulation that induces throbbing, stroking,
swooning, spillage, and love making, in no
particular order.

She knows when to thrust, when to touch, and
when to hush, allowing the rush of the climax to
ebb and flow into the next slam dance of carnal
insight, sucking you in, riding you like a horse
with flaring nostrils…..until the last drops
soundlessly spot the floor……..leaving you
alone with your thoughts, listening for an echo
that never existed.

Ivanna Howles will wrap you up in this,
her first foray into adult fiction. I had the
pleasure of catching Ms. Howles in an
interview last weekend. She was excitedly
discussing the projects that she has on the
horizon; her shyness was a captivating facet of
the smoldering vixen within and a testament of
her ability to pleasure her readers with a
variety of scandalous scenarios.

An absolute gem.