Category Archives: self published indie author

Seeking Patronage

I recently attended a two day workshop from a well known published author. She also has numerous degrees in writing and literature along with multiple awards. After reading my work, she told me, "Stop giving away your writing. You're way too good of a storyteller to not be getting paid. You need to focus and do this fulltime!"
She suggested I start a Kickstarter, Go-fund-me, Patreon or Crowdfunding account. I told her I'd not had much of a warm welcome with my Go-fund-me campaign but I still had this Patreon page, even though I'm yet to receive one pledge. Her suggestion was that I no longer post my erotica short stories for free on my webpage, but rather only give them to my patrons.
So, I guess I'll try this for now and see how it goes. From here on out, I'll continue to write my short erotic pieces, but will only disseminate them to those who are pledging.
You have no idea how much it would help me if enough of you, drank one less $5.00 coffee a month, and instead pledged that amount to my writing endeavors.
For your pledge of $5.00 or more, I will guarantee at least one short erotic piece a month, (over 1000 words). For any larger pledges I'll write two or more pieces a month and will personally email these to all who've pledged.

I have over a thousand registered users on this site, although I don't know how to access you, or know if anyone is enjoying my work. Since I left Facebook, I no longer get comments, (good or bad), about my writing. It would help me to know others are enjoying, or at the very least, reading what I post. I often feel as if all this is nothing more than a futile endeavor. So please at least speak up or offer me some help as too how I can better reach my audience. (I am struggling with the technology and maintaining my own webpage as well...anyone willing to help me? I'd consider it a form of contribution. 

Email me? Payne Hawthorne at HouseofPaynepublishing@gmail.com 

Payne Hawthorne on Patreon

Book Excerpt; The Elysian, Chapter 37

The Elysian, (excerpt).

This is the next title I’d dearly love to produce as an audio book. The cost will be roughly $2000.00. You can help me achieve this goal by contributing here: PATREON or here: PATRONAGE

theelysiannewcover1000

Chapter THIRTY SEVEN
   It’s around dawn the next morning, and we are pretzeled together. During the night, I woke a few times and made sure some part of me was touching him, and I felt him do the same. It was as if we had to make sure the other was still there, and this whole freakish joining wasn’t just a dream. 
   I kissed his shoulder and he picked up my hand and kissed the inside of my palm. It was a tender kiss and his warm lips sent goose bumps up my arm. “You are a sensitive thing,” he says. 
   “Only to some, to others I seem as dull as a rock. It takes a certain vibration from another, and then I am so alive I can hardly stand it.” 
   “Ahhh, a catalyst?” He questions. 
   I think about it and slowly nod, “Yeah, I guess that’s as good of an explanation as any. I’ve had about twenty different mates, many more lovers. I can fuck just fine even if I’m not in love, although it leaves me feeling really cold and hollow. You know the worst of it? I often feel so dead I go out and find sex. It’s meaningless sex of course, and I do it in hopes of feeling something…”
   “Feeling anything,” he interrupts as he finishes my thought, agreeing with me, “And what started out as a need to feel, ends up in making you feel more alone and empty than when you started.”
   “Exactly! You’d think I’d learn by now, but no…”
   “It’s how you’re made Ellie –created to please. You feel alive when you’re found satisfying to another –of course that’s your – go to,” he again interrupted, then added, “I’ve done it many times –many – many – many times –life is just too hard when you go it alone for too long. For me its connection to something else living –which you know the horses really do help satisfy because they are so sentient –but for you it’s an innate need you have no control over –Elysian females are supposedly created for a specific man –you might be the only woman of your kind to be a free agent.” 
   I wrinkle my nose and wiggle it, “What are the odds?”
   He taps my chin lightly and grins, “I can tell you a few things I know –I actually used to kind of be a fan of your people.” 
   “A fan? What does that mean?” I question.
   “Well, ever since good ole dad told me about the single minded devotion of an Elysian female, I wanted one, so I kinda turned it into a bit of a hobby. Mind you, I was just a fledgling –youngster –hadn’t even learned how to fly yet –but I learned a lot about your kind.” 
   My expression was more than amused and I turned on my side with my head on my hand and winked at him, “Do tell.” 
   He flopped onto his back and spoke to the ceiling, “Let’s see what I can recall. Pointed ears –in your natural state you have small ears with pointy tips.” 
   “Like elves?” 
   He nods, “Yup, like elves. You’re a tall species, leggy,” He dashed a look at me and chomped his teeth, “Love those long legs, and that perfect ass of yours!” I giggled and he reached over and touched my hand, still talking to the ceiling, “Feathers. I knew for sure when I saw that artwork,” He motioned toward the living room and then rested his hand back on mine. “Your world is devoid of birds. Not one on the whole planet. Your people are fascinated with feathers. Consider them as rare and collectable as earthlings feel about gemstones.” His eyes took on a faraway expression and I eagerly listened.  
   Most of my memories were surrounding the mission and the experiment and very little had filtered through of my first life and the customs and rituals of my people. “Your people like a lot of pomp and circumstance, like to show off their wealth. Whenever they have banquets or parties, they decorate themselves with feathers. The women will pale out most of their faces, even pale lipstick, so all you can see are the masks they wear. Usually half face, but always made from feathers of different colors, or if they are high born they wear Hogedon feathers –that’s my race –always black or the same dark navy as my hair. Only our wing feathers, and only from a full grown adult, are tipped in that same silver as you saw on my wings.” He nodded as he recalled, “We must have limited the supply, wish I could remember –but yeah, incredibly rare indeed.”
   I make a sound of amazement and grin, “That explains a lot. I’ve always been fascinated with birds of all kinds. Is that ironic or what?”
   “You mean because I am one?” He asked. 
   “Yeah, exactly!” I confirmed. 
   “My people often traded with yours –we would offer feathers and quills from our adults and down and fluff from the fledglings. You’d be surprised what kind of commodity they can be when your planet has not one avian species.” He turned his head and caught my eye, “A feather from my adult plumage would be considered one of the greatest gifts offered. Just so you know.” He winked and resumed talking to the ceiling. I was thinking about my fascination with feathers and birds, as more puzzle pieces slid into place. “So darlin, if I ever give you one of my plumes, it means you are very special to me. Not only would I have to manifest my wings, which I don’t do very often, but I’d have to inflict a wound that would take months to regenerate.”
   “I have it in storage, but you’d be shocked to see my mask collection.” I say victoriously. Then add, “If you ever gave me one of your feathers I would cherish it beyond any other –I’d consider it one of my greatest possessions.” I declare. Then I ask, “Do your people mate outside of your race?” 
   He grinned and asked, “The masks—all feathers?” 
   I nod and lift one eyebrow, “What are the odds? Right?”
   He answers my question, “Rarely, but yeah, it happens. We’re a passionate species. Much more so than your people.” 
   “What do you mean?” 
   He chuckled, “When I first saw Star Trek, I thought they modeled Spock after Elysians’ and Kirk after Taninians’. Polar opposites –one is intellectual and all mind, the other is all heart and emotions.”
   I nibbled my lower lip in thought before answering, “I’ve changed though –I’ve grown feelings –emotions –I feel everything deeper than I remember feeling before.” 
   Iain turned again to face me and he cupped my jaw, “You darlin are the most unique entity in all the galaxies –I can’t believe we found each other.” He kisses each of my fingertips, “I could devour all of you. I haven’t felt this way about a woman ever. You and me baby, damn we’re good together.” 
   “We are each other’s catalyst maybe?” I say in a tiny voice, thinking about how odd it is to be with another stranded alien. 
   He reads my thoughts and asks, “I been meaning to ask you, are you stranded or are they extracting you at some point?” 
   I grimace, “I think I’m supposed to be here for two thousand years, so that gives me a handful over seven hundred more to go.” 
   He is silent for so long I think he has nothing more to say on the matter. When he does speak I momentarily jump at his voice. He hugs me in tighter, “Sorry darlin, I was thinking about leaving with you –I was so resigned to my fate –so certain there was no escape for me, I refused to let myself consider it.” 
   “And now?” I ask
   He bends his head down and grins at me, “Well my sweet little sex toy, seven hundred years is a long time. If you’ve not grown bored with me and we’re still together, I’ll consider it.” 
   “You know I’m not sure the mission is even on track anymore. I think both Gabriel and Doyle are either locked up in a Fae sithen or they don’t know they are, and time is speeding by out here –whatever it is, I think Doyle lost control –so I really have no clue. I’m trying to live as if this is my existence and there is no extraction –ever.” 
   
   He nods and hugs me tighter, dragging most of my body up onto his chest. My breasts push against his hard pecks and he palms my ass, jiggling me and rubbing himself against my belly, “You know what sweet cheeks?” 
   “What? My holy hardness.” 
   “Who really cares if we get to leave or not? Right now, in this moment, with you, I would trade an eternity of adventure to stay here – so fuck em all!” He announces. 
   I bite my lip and nod in thought, “You know what bird boy? I would agree one hundred percent –fuck em all!”
   We laugh and roll around in the bed, and play seduction and tease as he grows rigid and I grow wet and slick. I groan and roll away, “I can’t right now, even if my body is telling you, yes, –it’s a fucking liar! I don’t want too –not yet –you’re so big and I’m really sore. Can we just lay together? Can you be hard and me wet and nothing happen?”
   His hand reaches between my legs and he grumbles out his need, “Ahhh babe –maybe it’s your brain that’s the liar? Your sweet little cunt seems more than eager.” 
   I hear him lick his fingers after his quick, internal delve, and his sounds of pure delight momentarily give me pause. He is entirely correct, I would suffer if it meant pleasing my partner. That old familiar question rises up inside, is it good or bad that I would suffer to please him?
   “It’s neither lover, it’s you.” He says in response to my unspoken thoughts. I sigh, but say nothing. I am also completely okay with his intrusion into my private mind, that too is part of his penetration into my being, and I like it. My thoughts prompted a question from him, “You’re empathic then? No telepathy?”
   “I can feel your emotional grid, but only if you let me. You are the most powerful person I’ve been around since, Doyle, in Iceland. But yeah, I feel you baby! But no, it’s rare for me to hear words –again though, I did with Doyle. And a few times I think I’ve heard your thoughts.” I honestly reply.
   I feel him nod as he rubs my back. My hair has lifted and twined itself entirely around any part of him it can reach, which he told me he loves. He offers, “I’m both –empathic and telepathic –and! If I really work at it I can implant thoughts at a subconscious level –I’m out of practice though, I don’t work that psychic muscle too much, unless I’m with the horses, but they are so receptive it really takes nothing.” 
   I offer a sound of agreement. “I went so long I thought I’d lost even the empathic ability. I swear I’ve gone through phases where I wondered if I was entirely human –nothing special here people, move it along.” 
   “It’s a fetal race babe, and I hate how the lowest common denominator always wins. Don’t let the turkeys tell you, you are anything but an eagle –I know though –its very tuff here to feel anything but average.” 
   I giggle at the irony of his words and mumble, “And you are an eagle. A silver, raven haired, glowing alien raptor.”
 
Excerpt from THE ELYSIAN 
The adventures and loves of Faith Elysian. An immortal alien trapped on Earth for twelve hundred years. 

This is the next title I'm hoping to make into an Audio book. Please see my PATREON and PATRONAGE pages for info on helping me achieve this goal. 

TEASERS
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Fire Clothed in Skin, only .99C

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^^^I will be releasing part two, REDEMPTION OF FIRE, in January 2016. The second book is twice as long and has all kinds of great erotica and BDSM themed scenes.

Here are some teasers from this .99c novella, Fire Clothed in Skin, My Demon Master Series.

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Demons, erotica, BDSM, Comedy, (yes many funny moments!)
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  “I noticed you still have your panties on, would you please remove them for me?”
  Gulp, how did I know that would be a request? Blink, pause. Okay fine, it’s just my fear I will get the chair wet, I swear! My body is in some kind of strange overdrive with the lubrication. I feel as if my pussy is a fan girl, screaming and jumping up and down, begging for–him–to see her and make eye contact or something. Oh, it’s also weeping tears of joy at being so near –him.
  I carefully remove said panties and wonder what to do with them. He puts his hand across the table, palm up. Yes they are quite damp, I guess you could call it, damp with my need? Sigh, now I sound like a fucking romance novel. Okay, here ya go big guy, have at it. So glad they were a good pair, actually a really nice lace pair in the palest pink. 
  Something about his big hand and the way he delicately wraps his fingers around all that lace, sends shivers up and down my spine. I want that hand to touch me, my skin, my body and I want him to put those long fingers other places.
  His thumb finds where the cotton is wet. He rubs over that spot a few more times and his eyes find mine, and they fucking sparkle and burst into flames again. Swallow. Did he just tremble? Did his composure crack just a little?   
  Why does this delight me so much? His hand is still caressing my panties and softly kneading them around in his huge fist, and I just realized how big his wrists are, like wow. Can’t wait to see his forearms, I love good forearms and I know his must be magnificent. Sigh. 
  “Dillon.” His voice is so full of need I again puddle where I sit. Fuck my body, stop-it already. 
  “Yes?” 
  “Nothing, I was just enjoying saying your name.” 
  Oh smack! That was about the most stimulating thing anyone’s ever said to me. Again with the rapid blinking, and now I can’t even think, let alone form coherent words. Blink-blink-blink. Also, there is the crimson burning in my cheeks. 
  “I would like you to sit over here.” He motioned to the seat across the aisle from him, the seat with a full view of whomever would be the occupant, not the seat where I am now, with the protection of the table between us. “And I need you to sit so I may see all of you.” 
  I nod, after more blinking, I wobble on these fucking high heels and smooth my skirt, and sort of stumble and fall into the other chair. I swivel it so my knees are facing him. My pinned together knees, which are also shaking. 
  “Touch yourself.” 
  No surprise, I knew this was coming, ahem, maybe wrong word, coming. I might be, coming any second now; the clenching and twitching in my nether regions is reaching a near orchestral frenzy. Okay, spread knees, swivel chair for better viewing pleasure, drag skirt up my thighs. God I love this fabric. Make him wait, move slowly, wait, wait. His eyes are on me, ME, my most hidden parts, and he can’t seem to stop looking. This makes me happy. I’ve been told I have a beautiful pussy.
  I am fair haired all over my body, strawberry blonde to be exact, and I keep a nice, well-manicured playground, but I do leave a strip of red-blonde curls just to show my carpet matches my drapes. Why does it give me so much satisfaction to see him swallow convulsively? 
  I can feel how swollen I already am, so much blood has been rushing down there I must be bright pink at this point, but I also know men love this. He is still staring, and from where I sit I can see the effect I have on his body as well. This makes me happy. Like fucking beside myself delighted. I love being paid that kind of compliment. 
  Something about it is a total power trip too, and honestly, even though I am a sub in most respects, I can get off in a big way just from my guy losing it, and uncontrollably needing to enter my body. If a man does that with me, I will climax the second his hands touch me and he shows he’s given in and abandoned all rational thought...

firequote in need of vapors firequoteknow him in my marrow firequote fingers other places firequote his eyes firequote how long i've waited firequote no lasting harm firequotecaught in a wave firequoteenergyofpassion firequotefemale firequotelike i know him

 

Weekly Erotica. READY.

READY
“I want you ready.”

He knew what ready meant, and answered with a salute in his voice, “Yes mistress. My pleasure.”

He finished the dinner preparations and put the lasagna in the oven. Then he took a shower and shaved himself clean. His owner enjoyed quite a bit of oral. Reciprocally, she was the best he’d ever experienced and over the years he’d learned the art of cuntilingus. 

He found it ironic he’d bow, scrape, and literally serve and service a dominatrix. He wasn’t a submissive, at least not by pathology, but he’d now protect, defend, and yes even kill, for the female who claimed him as hers. He’d certainly endure pain, and he thoroughly enjoyed pleasing her. 

Sometimes she let him take over, sometimes she liked him to assert, but he was never certain where her cravings would lead. She was a sadist after all, and being in control, or the illusion of control, was what she most desired. He was not a sadist, and before would not have identified with the heading of, masochist. He could however take quite a bit of pain and over the years learned how to harness, turn it, and use it. 

Perhaps now he was changed enough to say he was a masochistic submissive. His role wasn’t as populated with men as it was with petite, helpless females, but in the world of fetishes, bondage, sadists, dominants and submissives, nothing was off limits, and all the roles were celebrated. 

After all, one cannot flourish without the other. 

What he never anticipated, and if told, wouldn’t have believed, was the amount of power the submissive actually held. It was an indescribable dynamic within this anything-but-vanilla relationship. For all appearances, it was her who held all the cards and wielded the whip, literally. But as the one enduring, and pleasing, and surrendering, it was he who was exalted, praised, and almost worshipped. She continually commended him for his strengths and fortitude. He was her second, her other, her best friend, protector and lover. 

Their communication was always therapeutic, never mundane. They were more open with each other than a therapist and patient, and it went both directions. She never belittled him for his role, and years into the maturity of their pairing, she still praised him for everything he did to make her life easier; never once taking him for granted or growing bored with him.

In return, she gave him immense pleasure, one could even say, ecstasy was her game, and pleasing her quickly turned into his favorite sport. 

In most respects the situation worked out perfectly. He’d learned how to become a bit of a domestic emperor and in return she provided them with enough financial security they lived well. He drove a Tesla and they ate like kings. He wanted for nothing and for the first time in his thirty plus years, he was sexually satisfied. Sometimes, more than. 

He was provided time to work on his physique and follow his passion of becoming a fitness model. Well-honed male bodies, rippling eight packs and tight V lats were all the rage. Women were finally granted permission to objectify the male gender in the same way’s they’d endured. The only thing was, men loved it. He loved it. 

He was now exactly as nature intended. A sex slave and physically perfect specimen able to keep up with his mistress’s needs. If he’d lived the traditional dynamic and worked like all the other mundane men, he’d never have had the passion, energy or desire to fuck for hours on end. 

The cooking classes were a gift, but soon turned into a new talent. When the mistress closed her eyes and moaned around a mouthful of something he’d created, he realized it was yet another way of making love and giving pleasure. Now he was quite the culinary expert and he knew what was simmering away in the oven, was one of her favorites. He’d paired it with a Syrah from the cellar and was expectant for their meal later. No doubt it would be eaten after the first round of activities, and no doubt they’d partake naked, she might even ask him to feed her, which he loved doing. 

He double checked his scrotum for any wayward stubble and then quickly finished his bathroom ablutions. She would be home soon, and he needed to be in the dungeon, and ready. She often surprised him, enjoying the foreplay and fluffing required to get him to full hardness, but tonight her sparse communication was all he needed to know she didn’t feel like preparing him. 

He left the dungeon door open and spent a few minutes waking up his muscles. He did push-ups, squats and a few pull ups before planking for five minutes. Then he went to work on his cock. 

When she first approached him, she had no idea he was so well endowed. Their first encounter was as vanilla as they come, apart from her being the aggressor and asking him out. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Modern women were like that and he’d been approached before. He was a very attractive man.

Once on this first date, he’d played the traditional male role. At least at the beginning of the night it was that way. She’d appeared somewhat aloof during dinner, and then over desert, she’d confessed her predilections. He’d initially laughed, but then considered when she mentioned some of her cravings. 

She might have been a few years his senior, but she was a stunning female. They’d gone dancing, and he could, which impressed her further. 
By the end of the evening, she’d let down her guard, and they’d ended up back at his place. 

Her tone had been dominant, not pleading. “I need you in my mouth.” 

Who was he to argue with that request? Most of the women/girls he’d been with, hadn’t liked or even offered; not that most of them could get in more than the tip in anyway. 

She’d insisted on undressing him, taking her time as if she were unwrapping a gift. He’d been in perfect shape back then, but his body had yet to harden into the kind of maturity he now possessed. She’d left his boxers till the last, admiring all of his other attributes before. He still remembers the look on her face when she freed him. He’d been statue erect and throbbing ready. His crown had glistened and his balls had felt like heavy weights.
 
“Oh dear lord. You are him.” 

He hadn’t fully comprehended her meaning until a few weeks later. In the interim, she pursued him with a vigor to rival the hungriest of men. She was a potent female and she always got what she wanted, and she’d decided on him. Despite the protests that he was his own man, and had no desire to belong to a female, let alone in a non-traditional role such as she was requesting, she never faltered. 

His friends warned him, and yes she did appear a bit obsessive, but they didn’t see the whole picture. It was when they were together and alone that he saw the truth. She wasn’t mentally ill, bi-polar, OCD, or a stalker like his friends all perceived. No, she was genuine and simply had a much larger appetite than the average human; man or woman, it didn’t matter. She was more than everyone else in all situations, and she required someone willing to sate her insatiable appetite. 

Apparently he could. God knows, at that point, he was more than willing. Never before had he been with a female who wanted to fuck more than even himself. 

She’d licked her lips and begun slowly. She paused long enough to insist on a moment of eye contact. “You do not have permission to come. Is that understood?” 

Again he’d chuckled, thinking she’d have a difficult time getting him too. The only curse of such a large dick was the extended time it took to actually find release. He’d nodded and grinned and then jerked his throbbing organ until it tapped against his groin. He’d inadvertently dared her, something he later discovered you never do with a Sadist Dominant. “Good luck. Takes more than a lick to get me off.” 

It was a rare moment for his usually stoic mistress when she grinned and lifted her eyebrows, obviously accepting his unintentional challenge. There were no words after that, at least not that he could remember. She took control in a way he’d never imagined, and within a few minutes his knees were shaking and he feared falling down. 

Her hand massaged his balls as her mouth, her luscious, cavernous, wet, warm insistent mouth, took and plead and played him like an instrument. She was a musician of the highest order and she took all of him. She slid those luscious lips ever farther to the base, amazing him as she seated him deeply down her throat. Playing him with her muscles and vibrating the tendon with her tongue until he screamed in anguish, trying his hardest stop the rapidly approaching ejaculation. 

He’d never practiced holding it back. All the girls he’d ever been with had either not been able to take all of him, or had grown sore and tired before he could complete. Now though? Oh my god, now this alien woman was paradoxically insisting he give her his seed, but had yet to grant permission. Her left hand gripped his ass firmly, digging in her nails and insisting he stay there with her nose buried in his groin. Her lips, her mouth, her tongue and her throat all persisted in extricating the one thing he’d been ordered not to do. 

Thinking back, he realized even then he’d felt a kind of surrender to her. A need to obey and please. He was her soldier and she his general. She was right, he was meant for her. He just needed to be taught, and she was more than happy to oblige. 

He stayed himself as long as he could, and then strained through the confession. “I…I can’t hold it!” 

She’d increased her sucking, stroking and massaging. Almost angrily, but she’d not stopped, and when he tried to pull away, she’d hurt him with her nails, insisting he come in her throat. When he did, she swallowed him as if he were the cure. But then, as he was uselessly twitching through the biggest release of his life, she freed him from her mouth and bit his inner thigh until the skin broke. That was the first time he realized what pain could do to his body. 

He’d fallen to the floor, screaming in agony and attempting to push her away. She was strong and skilled and he was useless against her onslaught. She pinned his arms under her knees and then bit his right nipple, even harder, again leaving broken places. “Bad boy. You disobeyed.” 

“FUCK!” He screamed. 

She laughed and then pulled off her dress in one fluid motion, revealing her utter nakedness. He was still harder than he could ever remember being, let alone after already coming like a fire hydrant. “Now I’ll fuck you and this time you do not come until I say.” 

He yelled again when she sat on him, sheathing all of him in one fluid roll of her hips. He could feel where he filled her up and where he hit her cervix, but she loved it. Taking every inch of him and throwing her head back in abandoned, rapturous bliss. She rode him hard, pumping her sex over him and rolling her hips as he gave into the act. Within seconds and he was more than a willing participant. 

“Harder! Harder!” She keened. 

He grabbed her at the swell of hips and thrust himself as viciously as he’d never been permitted to do. Over and over he punished her with his huge, hard cock, and she only asked for more. Her body tightened around his, squeezing him as she flushed bright pink and her nipples tightened down to tight little nubs. 

She clutched his chin, again insisting on eye contact. “Come for me.” The words caught and stuttered out of her mouth as she seized. Then she slapped him, hard, hard enough to startle, but still he didn’t come. He couldn’t. He had to watch her. It was as if a goddess had chosen him, a lowly mortal, and he had no choice but to watch her ascend. 

She was in control enough to slap him again and the look she leveled him with seemed to travel directly to his throbbing shaft. He came again, and then again and by the time he was finished, he was certain his legs had vanished.
It always worked. He was more than ready now. He stood as per protocol. Fully erect, legs spread and hands behind his back. His cock throbbed in anticipation. Delicious scents wafted from the kitchen. The staccato of her heals down the marble hall was his only warning. 

“Hello my love. I see you’re ready. You please me immensely.”

~Too be continued. 

Flash erotica fiction from ~Payne Hawthorne

News and Links

All my titles for Kindle/digital format are here: Amazon Author Page (most of my titles are free on Kindle Unlimited too).

I’ve added a new storefront for all my titles in print with personalization and autograph options.

House of Payne Publishing

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And some new PROMOTIONAL ITEMS like mugs and book cover necklace charms.

I’ve been adding some short blogs and flash fiction as individual pages. Don’t miss, “Blue Tributary,” flash fiction BDSM erotic piece.

My newest page will be dedicated to my struggles with depression. Its called, “The Depression Files.” (also find link in menu)

I also keep an actual blog here: ADVENTURESINPAYNE

New Release May 31st!

This is the first book I wrote, over four years ago. It’s since been changed, revised, and edited many times in the last few years. I think/hope its fantastic now!

Its up on Kindle for Pre-order http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00UNRHEKY

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Teaser from Remnant
Teaser from Remnant

 

AdventuresinPayne, REMNANT
AdventuresinPayne, REMNANT
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Teaser from Remnant
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00UNRHEKY
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