A Normal Girl

The project is finally done!

Available on AMAZON and Radish Fiction

About this Book

The Blurb:

Ryan, a geeky technology apprentice student, is determined to lose his virginity. Shy by nature, his lack of experience with women has left him unfamiliar with ideas other than vanilla sex. In his search for his ideal girl, he seeks out those he deems normal, only to be faced with and turned off by their sexual kinks. After failed attempts with two classic beauties, Ryan takes a chance on the oddball, discovering that normal is relative, and that he and his ideal girl are anything but vanilla.

The Purpose: 

I hate how sex is portrayed in the negative by society, and I hate how so many people misunderstand so much about sex. There's more to sex than traditional missionary for a lousy 10 minutes and you're done! I wrote A Normal Girl with the purpose of dramatizing the stereotypes and misconceptions that society feeds us, and pointing out how clueless many people are to the vast variety of sexual experiences available. What one person considers "normal" is not "normal" for the next person. Some people do fit into the traditional "vanilla" sex life that society tells us is great and acceptable, but there are so many that have had adventures outside the box. And they enjoy them. And that's wonderful and beautiful. Anyway, A Normal Girl shows what happens to Ryan due to his lack of knowledge and communication with who he believes to be "normal". Ryan only discovers his "normal" at the end, after doing everything wrong, humorously teasing the reader by showing how atypical Ryan actually is.

This book was originally published by Stiff Rain Press in February of 2015, but became unavailable when they went out of business. Now, with Torquere Press, A Normal Girl will be one of the first titles in the "Red Line", which includes books with all spectrums of sexuality and those that contain "taboo" subject matter. Be prepared to read about vouyerism, cum play, BDSM, anal and oral sex, strap ons, plushies, orgasm humiliation, and golden showers. 

Reviews:

A Normal Girl was reviewed by the fabulous Mindy Book Snitch on her blog where she gave the book 4 out of 5 Stars! She also labeled it in her Top 10 Most Memorable Books of 2015. You can find reviews and info on other great books on her site too!

A Normal Girl was given 5 out of 5 Stars by Reed James of Naughty Ladies' Publications.  "Angora Shade writes hot, kinky sex. This tale has femdom, furry, pegging, watersports, and so much more. The characters are interesting and realized, and Angora brings them to life. If you enjoy erotica with a story, as well as kinky sex, you’ll love A Normal Girl." Read his full review on his blog.

Andy Sullivan had this to say about A Normal Girl in his 5 Star review on Goodreads: "I love this book! As evident by me finishing in one afternoon. Anyone who enjoys exciting story and an engaging plot will want to check out this sweet confectionery goodness."

An Excerpt:

“You like doughnuts?”

Ryan looks up, suddenly startled, to see one of the employees eyeing him over. She’s blonde, slender, and he finds her ridiculously pretty, even in her green, flour-powdered bakery smock, which she wears with a cheeky confidence. Grinning wickedly, she squirts a load of jelly into the center of a sugarcoated doughnut and hands it to him.

Ryan clears his throat. “Yeah, thanks,” he says, as he takes the proffered treat.

He can’t take his eyes off the way her smock draws tight around her delicate waist. He’s forced to as she boldly walks her fingers over his hand holding the doughnut and up his wrist, where she stops and grips him firmly like a mother grasping a small child. His eyes widen as she brings the tip of the jelly syringe to her mouth with her other hand and pulls the trigger, sucking and licking at the tip. Ryan’s stomach falls to the floor, mimicking his chin.

“I just love jelly,” she whispers. Bending over, she pulls his wrist upward toward her mouth, allowing her to take a bite out of his doughnut. She licks her lips as she pulls back and releases him, wiping all traces of loose sugar from her face. Turning and retreating toward the back, she winks and disappears behind a swinging door.

Ryan exhales loudly and adjusts his glasses with a shaky hand as he gazes at the huge bite missing from his doughnut. A glob of red goo, smelling unmistakably of strawberry, begins to ooze down the edge. It’s a slow movement that contrasts starkly with the rapid beating of his heart.

Women rarely speak to him, if at all. Shy by nature, he prefers to sit on the sidelines, observe, and be part of the background that hums and exists in the air of the busy world. Slim and lanky, he knows he fits the nerd stereotype, accentuated by his thick prescription glasses, short professional haircut, and the company lab coat with their well-known logo embroidered over the pocket. Even the pocket protector is his enemy. He knows it sends a lot of women running for the hills when they see it, but it’s part of his uniform. Heaven forbid he should suffer ink stains on the company attire. It would make him look sloppy.

He prefers to be the well-groomed nerd rather than a bad-boy grease monkey anyway, having come to terms with who and what he’d become in life after endless years of teasing through most of his adolescence. His timid personality has left him still a virgin at twenty-two. Average looking with above average intelligence, he’s always known success was in the works for him, if not a lot of hip action. He could deal with that.

But that girl.

Ryan taps his pen against the clipboard in front of him and takes a bite of his doughnut, wondering what possessed her to tease him. Maybe she gets off teasing men. Yeah. That’s it. Play a joke on the geeky guy applying at the bakery and see if you can make him squirt.

Ryan looks down and shakes his head. Too bad she took off so fast. Surely she’d have gotten her jollies seeing the big boner she’d made inside his tight, black, company dress pants.

“Tasting the goods?” the owner asks, pointing at Ryan as he approaches from across the room. He’s a large man. Round-faced and balding, his charming dimple indents deeply when he smiles, and his jolly, rotund belly shakes as he laughs.

Ryan feels his mouth tighten to a thin line, hoping the owner won’t study him too quickly and see the tent in his pants. He quickly adjusts his legs, and shuffles his backside a bit deeper into his chair, willing his hard-on to shrink. Mind over matter; that was his motto.

“I’m just teasing you, kid,” the owner guffaws. “Always good to know what your product is.” He takes a seat next to Ryan and looks over the application. Humming and nodding, he scratches at his five o'clock shadow with his old, wrinkled hands, and then looks Ryan square in the face. “Good. All in order. You’re hired.”

Writing: the Madness Drug of the Creative Mind

People of the world: I have come to the conclusion that the job of "writer" is a bonafide illness!

Let me explain:

The job of "writer" isn't one that you choose to do. It's something you're compelled to do, like breathing. And often enough, simply being born a creative mind (writer or otherwise) is cause enough to suffer madness. Here are few creative minds you're probably familiar with who suffered from some sort of classifiable illness, addiction, and/or had tragic lives or deaths:

Rembrandt Bugatti: Famous Italian sculptor and draftsman who offed himself with a ceremonial sword
Mark Rothco: American painter, depressive, heavy smoker and drinker who slit his wrists
Ernest Hemingway: Famous novelist and alcoholic who ate his shotgun
Vincent Van Gogh: Impressionist painter, alcoholic, and heavy smoker who cut off his own ear, spent time in an asylum, and eventually shot himself
Edgar Allen Poe: Famous writer, poet, and alcoholic whose death remains undetermined
Kurt Cobain: Famous 90's lead singer of Nirvana, depressive drug user who died of apparent suicide
Amy Winehouse: Famous singer, depressive alcoholic who died of alcohol poisoning
Whitney Houston: Famous singer, heavy drug user which led to death by drowning

I'm in contact with the book world and I know a lot of authors. We authors talk. Interestingly enough, the majority of people I speak to A) suffer some sort of love affair with either (or both) alcohol or a drug of choice B) are depressed, and C) suffer sleep issues. Rarely do I find an author who loves life and is on top of the world. It's just not a combination that mixes with "writer". We're all "struggling" or "starving artists". As a graduate from art school, I can further testify to other creatives. Everyone smoked pot, drank, smoked, and were eccentric personalities with some tragic life story, desperately trying to change the world or convey a life altering message through art.

NOTE: this in no way applies to all creatives. I'm simply pointing out a stunning correlation between creativity and madness backed by scientific study. You can read about this here.

How this applies to me:

I admit without embarrassment that I have a tragic past life story and have suffered from depression. I do enjoy my alcohol. But I'm not suicidal, drug addicted, or an insomniac. HOWEVER, there are times when I find myself not able to write. This is caused by life obligations, getting the flu, or a simple bout of the "winter blues". But it's a fact that when I don't write (or when my muse feeds me too much)--fantasy worlds, voices of countless characters, sudden plot twists, adventures, romance triangles--build up tighter and tighter inside my skull until they're literally screaming at me to empty them onto the page. I literally hear them coming at me in an angry chorus I want to hide from.

My brain suffers a complete overload. Too many stories want attention! Too many characters demand I hear them! I can't sleep at times like this. I fail to focus. I get depressed, moody, and live on a short fuse. I feel pulled in so many different creative directions that I start to lose it. I drink with the purpose to drown the voices out, and dig deeper into not reaching my goals. It's severe PMS X a billion! I become a hectic looney of a mess that nobody wants to be around.

I'm only able to breathe normally again after a good long session of word dumping. But there's only a moment to relax before the next bolt of inspiration hits, and I have to begin something new, or risk another bout of writer overload.

And it's such a rush! I wouldn't change being a writer and suffering chronic bouts of creative madness. There's nothing that makes me feel more alive and purposeful than when I'm stuck and can't move on, to when I'm rolling out the goods and writing the words "The End" on a story's last page.

Writing is a drug. Creativity is a drug. I get kicks from going temporarily mad. The extreme highs and lows are the dramatic opposites that I live for. Enjoying these bouts of madness is madness itself, and absolutely right up there with a nice pipe full of pot and a memorable orgasm.

Where would the world be without creativity? Can creativity be expressed by those who aren't a little "off"? I think that yes, it's possible, but I'd choose to go a little nuts over being completely sane any day. The monotony of sanity is a dull existence.