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About the author:
Jen Berry is the average housewife. She attends PTA meetings, takes her kids to soccer practice, but whenever she gets a chance to do so she writes steamy monster erotica.
What inspired you to write your book?
I always wanted to write stories of independent women letting loose and chasing what they want.
Here is a short sample from the book:
“Who the hell are you?” the large man growled.
Massive might be a better way to describe him. Lucy’s mind joked as she searched for the right response.
They’d been poking around the neighborhood for over a day now before finally reaching the place she’d been searching for. A lot of questions had led them to the small butcher shop they now stood in and though Lucy didn’t want to admit it, she was definitely a bit scared of the man behind the counter.
Standing well over six feet tall, powerfully built, with long and shaggy dark hair, the man was the epitome of the word “massive”. Lucy did her best not to gulp as she finally answered him. “We were told that this is one of the oldest butcher shops in the city. We wanted to come and check it out.”
“It is, and you’ve checked it out,” he answered slowly. “So are you going to buy anything or just continue to ask your silly questions.”
“They aren’t silly,” Grace piped in from the side.
The man turned towards her, arms crossing in front of him. “Yes, they are. Werewolves are nothing more than folk-lore, stories to tell around a campfire. Why are you wasting my time with these questions?”
“We don’t mean to waste your time,” Lucy tried to pacify the man a bit. “We can pay you for information.”
“I don’t need money,” the man laughed, nodding towards the store, “like you said; this is one of the oldest shops in the city. It’s survived this long, and I think that it can survive without your money.”
Damn, what the hell else can we do? Lucy wracked her mind trying to find an answer. This is where the trail had led, without the info she was sure this mountain of a man had they’d be nowhere.
“Hey,” Grace said, coming up the counter, running a hand down the zipper of her sports jacket. “Who said anything about money?”