J.S. Fields

Author & Scientist

Review: Lucky 7 by Rae D Magdon

Genre: science fiction: dystopian

Pairings: f/f (could also be classed as f/nonbinary, the character in question hasn’t quite decided)

Queer Representation: cis bisexual, asexuality, trans, nonbinary

Warnings: none

Review

There’s nothing in the world as good as making a beautiful girl come.

Jacker Elena is on the run from AxysGen after the death of her crew during some ‘illegal’ activity.

Handler Sasha, an operative team leader, just lost her jacker and the rest of her crew in a botched operation. She can’t find a crew without a new jacker, and Elena needs a place to hide, STAT. AxysGen has a hit out on Sasha, too. If any of them are going to survive, they need to be deleted from AxysGen’s databases. And they can’t do that without a jacker. Or Sasha’s crew.

Elena and Sasha must work together to find Sasha’s crew and prevent AxysGen from finding Elena. The deeper they get into the the virtual world, however, the more layers of AxysGen peel away and the more Sasha’s past, including her ex-girlfriend, come back to haunt them.

LUCKY 7 is a fast paced dystopian sci-fi novel that starts with action on page one and does not let up. Unfortunately the action comes at the steep cost of stakes and character buy-in, and the first third of the book is entirely skimmable. The gems of attraction between Sasha and Elena are well done, but do little to progress the narrative forward. Elena’s character is poorly developed, as is her motivation, and Sasha’s ice queen attitude leaves her functionally emotionless.

The book takes a hard right turn at the one third point, with a steamy shower sex scene that breaks through our ice queen’s exterior and gives the reader some much needed emotional interplay. There’s consensual power play here, too, and it is hot as fuck. The book is worth buying for the sex scenes alone (there are three!).

But something in me wants to fight. To push back against her dominance, to show her I’m not just some warm body she can bruise because she hates me. I need her to fuck me, but she doesn’t get to unless I fuck her back.

~~

Somehow, I know I’ll never tire of bringing her over the edge. “Come for me,” I growl into the dip of her collarbone, close enough for her to feel my lips on her skin. “I want you to come for me.”

Halfway through the book changes POVs from Elena to Sasha, and it is at this point that the narrative takes off. Sasha’s POV is rich and complex, and the reader cannot help but be fascinated as she learns about her forgotten past, her relationship with her ex, Megan, and the secrets behind the ship’s AI. With an emotional hook, the storyline and plot pack a punch. The stakes raise, the crew becomes more three-dimensional. You care about Sasha. You root for Sasha. Sasha is the ideal unreliable narrator.

The A plot, of Elena running from the evil corporation, takes a quick backseat to the B plot of Sasha’s origins and the motivations of Megan. The B plot is by far the stronger of the two. Megan is the perfect villain–delightfully self absorbed with just enough humanity to make her relatable. The clone situation is excellent, the AI a delight, and Sasha, again, steals the show.

Another bonus: the representation in the book is phenomenal. Elena is Mexican (with brown skin), Sasha is black, and the richness of Elena’s background comes through in so many fantastic phrases and snippets of history. There is no white default in this book-white people are described via skin tone upon first introduction as much as the numerous people of color.

“If anyone tries to speak to you, let me do the talking,” Rami mutters from the corner of their mouth. “Just give them a white people smile.”

“The close-lipped ‘I acknowledged you, now please go away’ gringo smile?”

“Exactly.”

The trans rep, in particular, really struck a chord with me. One of the crew is trans, but it is the exploration of Sasha’s gender identity that was the most compelling. It is rare to see a true exploration of the nonbinary experience in queer fiction. So much is either a nonbinary person just being a person and having adventures, or being a side character. Sasha’s explanation of her gender, and Elena’s intuitive understanding, cemented their relationship as one of the best I’ve read in lesbian fiction. In a culture where the butch identity was long used as a dumping ground for both gender and gender identity, having one branch explored at length, and with deep sensitivity, was absolutely amazing.

I know from her smile that she’s joking, but my confidence falters. I know what Elena wants, but I’m not sure I’ll be ante to give it to her. I’ve got baggage around sex, around trust, around my body, and although I feel good in my skin tonight, I can’t guarantee she’ll get the results she wants, no matter how hard she tries.

~~

My face heats up. I’ve tried thinking about it that way sometimes, more often before I bought my first prosthetic. Once in a while, it works. Usually it doesn’t. There are aspects of womanhood I still connect and identify with, but my parents aren’t one of them. And even thought I know all too well that body parts don’t make a woman, being touched that way feels…vulnerable. In a good way, on some occasions, but more often in a not-good way.

~~

Once my hands are dry, I consider what to do about my swimsuit. The decision to pull down my trunks is an easy one, but my top is more difficult. It bares my midriff, but keeps my chest fairly flat. The look of hunger that takes over Elena’s face is enough to tempt me out of it. Her dark eyes have zeroed in as I pull it off, and her tongue leaves a glistening line on her lips as she wets them. I’m naked, but thanks to her admiration, I don’t feel overexposed.

~~

It’s a feeling of freedom, of knowing I can fly without the fear of falling. It has everything to do with the face that it’s Elena between my legs.

She’s memorized more of me in a few weeks than other people have bothered to learn in years, and I actually feel comfortable enough to teach her. It’s different. Powerful. A little scary. Bit it’s also all kinds of good, and I know I’d be a fool to give it up. I’m not even sure I can.

You can find your own curvy hacker in paperback here and ebook here. Consider supporting an independent bookstore by buying it here.

 

Double bonus: this scene

“You blew up the front door,” Rami yells back, taking the steps two at a time.

“Because I love you,” Cherry hollers. “Even though you left me in Brazil!”

“How do you run so fast in heels?” I gasp as I stagger down the front steps. I don’t know how Sasha finds all these magical bitches who can run ops in perfect makeup and designer shoes, but if I wasn’t terrified of dying, I’d be jealous.

 

And the best description of this particular flavor of bisexuality to date:

“Not my type, kid. I like pretty boys with long eyelashes and girls who look like they could step on my windpipe with their jackboot and make me thank them for it.”

Review: Crier’s War by Nina Varela

Genre: fantasy: dark  (YA)

Pairings: f/f

Queer Representation: cis lesbian (potentially bi or pan, not explicitly stated)

Warnings: some potentially problematic interpretations of asexuality and aromanticism

Review

Once upon a time there was a queen so desperate for a child that she had one Made. As with all things involving royalty, Made people became all the rage, and soon the continent was filled with Automae.

Like any good sci fi tale, the Automae were treated as servants/pets and of course, rebelled. Automae won the war and now rule over humankind, occupying the latter’s former palaces and social structures.

Enter Ayla. Orphaned by Automae slaughter (including her twin brother…maybe), her only goal in life is to bring down the Made and cut off their source of power–a special mineral that must be mined from specific source. More immediately, she can best hurt the Made by killing Princess Crier, and very early on in the book she is conveniently hired as the princess’ handmaiden.

Of course, feelings get felt. Ayla’s never had much interest in romance (only REVENGE) and Crier is an automae (who are canon asexual and aromantic… in theory). Turns out that Crier may have the Flaw of Passion inside her, which her fiancé’, Kinok, has no problem holding against her.

While Crier struggles to identify friends and enemies at court and understand her (lack of) place in the monarchy, Alya’s narrow view of the Made is threatened by Crier’s attempts at friendship. A human rebellion is also brewing, and Crier and Ayla must decide which side they are on before the truth about Ayla’s past is revealed and the balance of power is forever changed.

CRIER’S WAR is an f/f enemies to ‘lovers’ tale, and very much a setup book for a longer series. The worldbuilding is fun if not a little generic, and the pacing distinctly YA in that an inordinate amount of time is spent mentally rehashing events and feeling feelings, which drags down the pacing. For a YA book, the pacing moves at a strong clip. For an adult book (which it isn’t, so it shouldn’t be judged as such) it is slow.

The two POVs, Ayla and Crier, are distinct and easy to empathize with. Crier has many android stereotypes, including lack of sexuality/passion, problems with emotion, super strength, etc. Ayla is all hot-blooded passion, most directed at the kill side of things (yay! stabby lesbians!). They’re a natural pairing, and Varela does a nice job of slowly ramping up the tension between the two and then backing it down with real problems, such as, how do you kiss a girl whose family killed yours?

The worldbuilding takes an interesting look at the Automae and humanity. While recent fiction has driven stories of androids wanting to improve upon human tech and dwellings and such (and certainly never retaining human rituals), CRIER’S WAR shows the POV of androids who actually embrace and retain all the silly little bits of human culture, like marriage and birthdays. It’s a very strong showcase of the book’s central theme, that the Automae, despite being Made, are human.

The only real issue in the book comes from how it interprets what makes us ‘human.’ Crier believes for a good part of the book that she is Flawed with Passion. This ‘allows’ her to fall in love with Ayla and become, as the book presents it, more human. The Automae are described, functionally, as Data from Star Trek, complete with ‘going crazy if your emotions go into overdrive’ trope. They’re beautiful, but heartless.

A few have bucked that stereotype and are presented as more compassionate and more human–by taking lovers. Crier is also presented in a similar light, where it is her love for Ayla and budding sexuality that turn her away from the ways of her android people and help her better understand humanity, and empathy. And, yes this sort of development is a fairly common trope in sci fi and fantasy, it still comes at the expense of an often trampled part of the queer spectrum. Sex, attraction, desire, romance, these aren’t things that make us human. For many they are an important part of self, but for others they aren’t. Asexual and aromantic people are still human. They don’t need to fall in love to have empathy, much as atheists don’t need to find religion to be good people.

Representation gripes aside, CRIER’S WAR is exceptionally well written, with an almost lyrical prose reminiscent of THE TIGER’S DAUGHTER (which was not without its own representation issues as well). The book does not stand alone, in that no plot arcs are resolved and the reader must continue to the next book to continue the narrative, but the character development is well worth it.

The cover is gorgeous, and well worth having in hardback for the embossing and delicate bronze imagery. The plot is complex enough that teens would likely be deeply engrossed (It’s not a trope if its your first exposure to it!), and the tandem coming-of-age stories of Ayla and Crier should resonate with many younger readers.

It’s not a book I would have on my own bookshelf, but it’s one I would hold for my kid, for sure.

You can mine some Iron Heart and make your own android in paperback here, ebook here, and audiobook here.

 

 

Review: Peacemaker by E.M. Hamill

This is a review for the second book in a series. You can read the review for the first book here.

Genre: science fiction: space opera

Pairings: nonbinary/f, nonbinary/m

Queer Representation: nonbinary

Warnings: violence, gore

Review

The attack did not stop at nightfall. The sunset truce lay shattered, the hour of the goddess defiled.

Dalí is once again tapped to play negotiator in this action-packed sequel to DALÍ. Recalled from their undercover op by the Remoliad security council, Dalí is asked to look into events related to Ursetu’s emergency petition to join the Reoliad. Their crown princess has died, leaving only the queen and grandson alive. Her death is deemed an attack by the Shontavians–genetically engineered mercenaries considered nonsentient by their creators.

Was it a directed killing or a botched group assignation? Was the Shontavian breeding and engineering facility attacked as well, or did the creatures plan their own escape? Either way, Shontavians are on the loose, a monarchy’s line of ascension is in trouble, and Dalí seems to the only negotiator anyone can agree on.

Dalí, unfortunately, is still battling personal demons. They’re back on their addictive vape, which almost cost a friend their life. They’re still haunted by the murder of their husband and wife. Rage comes so, so easily to them, as does passion. But compassion, both to themself and those around them, is a skill Dalí must learn if they are to negotiate for the royal line and the Shontavian, who are much, much more than they seem.

Fans of sci-fi action, bio-engineering morality questions, and fast pacing will enjoy PEACEMAKER. Readers are thrust directly into the action that does not let up until the end, journeying from mines to addition, to violent fights, to passionate alley sex.

Although technically a space opera, the book paces more as military sci fi, with little time spent on character development (relying on book one’s work) and focusing almost solely on plot. It is for this reason that I failed to connect as deeply with PEACEMAKER as I did with DALÍ. There’s action, yes, and politics, yes, but the heart seemed to be missing that had so entranced me in book one. Dalí doesn’t connect so much as they fight–everything–which is plot relevant but also not a strong way to hook readers looking for sympathetic protagonists.

The biggest emotional connections come from the Shontavians and the complexity of their bioengineering. Their development, history, and mythology are breathtaking both in simplicity and effect. Their training will crush you. Their dreams will destroy you. How Dalí negotiates for them, and their eventual solution, is both perfect and deeply moving.

E.M. Hamill’s trademark humor is still present in PEACEMAKER, though somewhat more buried:

“You get off on this, don’t you?” I accused her.

“I want your body. For experiments, anyway. Shut up and close your eyes.”

And of course, the representation presented by Dalí, of a blend between intersex and nonbinary (Dalí can change their sexual anatomy and hormone profile at will, which drags their gender along with it. This makes them both gender fluid and sex fluid, though Dalí identifies as third gender, and defaults to a sexless state when among friends) is very well done:

In the warmth and vibration, I shuddered as the last of the physical characteristics I’d adapted to pass as male shifted back into my neutral, sexless state. My crewmates didn’t expect me to assume a gender, something for which I remained grateful. Without hormone stimulation to drive the change, the process was more painful, and my shoulders complained against the grind of bone and muscle.

As an intersex person with hormone fluctuations that physically impact how my body showcases my secondary (and sometimes primary) sex characteristics, I found Dalí’s explanations of the hormone surges and accompanying body changes very relatable (though of course extended out for sci fi), and appreciated how the mental gender moved but didn’t necessarily change as a result. For that reason alone, this book is an excellent read. Representation matters, and there is too little in the intersex world, especially at the intersection of intersex and nonbinary.

You can pick yourself a nice genital set and decide some intergalactic ethics in paperback here or ebook here.

Review: Space Unicorn Blues by T.J. Berry

Genre: science fiction: space opera

Pairings: f/f

Queer Representation: cis lesbian, trans woman, asexuality

Warnings: murder unicorns

Review

There was also a healthy contingent of planet bound xenophobes who had never made peaces with the fact that the first aliens humans had encountered were an envoy of talking unicorns who offered to teach them farming.

—

Survey a thousand cultures from throughout the universe and each would have terrifying stories about thin grey aliens with huge black eyes who visited their planet to poke at them. The Pymmie were only a meter tall, but able to control space, time, and matter with alarming proficiency. You could see the intelligence behind their murky eyes, but also a horrifying indifference. They simply went about their grand experiment without concerning themselves with trivial matters like suffering. The Pymmie were not particularly  clandestine with their experiments, the same way that an entomologist would not bother to conceal her presence from an ant.

It’s been one hundred years since the god-like Pymmie brokered a peace between humanity and the Bala–a wide array of fantasy creatures that turned out (surprise!) to be real. The Pymmie promised to return and check in on things right at the one hundred year mark.

That’s only a few days away, and humanity has really, really screwed things up.

Gary is a half unicorn man (unicorns are magical and born in stars. Don’t get gross) fresh out of prison. Jenny is a decorated Reason officer who once held Gary captive and dug into his skull to harvest his horn to power her spaceship. Her wife is also a dryad. It’s complicated.

Unfortunately for all of them, the Sisters of the Supersymmetrical Axiom have had a vision that involves Jenny, Garry, Cowboy Jim (lover of grilled cheese sandwiches and deeply morally grey), and Ricky Tang (morally grey but in a different way, hunter of fortune, trans woman with a killer sense for suckers). Together they have to get a stoneship to the Summit to meet the Pymmie at exactly the appointed date and time, while being chased by Reason officers who want to harvest Gary for parts and trying to rescue Jenny’s wife. In order to engage the FTL, however, they need unicorn horn, and Gary isn’t too keen on letting Jenny back at his skull.

SPACE UNICORN BLUES is the perfect space opera, blending fantasy elements (literally–the Bala are all mythological creatures from Earth’s history, like hippogryphs, angels, unicorns, fauns, etc.) and future tech into a fantastic colonial comeuppance story. In some places grim, in many places hilarious (elf sperm is a natural glamor if you rub it all over your body!), every word packs a punch.

In an interesting style, many parts of the book function like a recap from a previous book (this is, in fact, book one), recounting the history of Jenny and Gary that the reader never gets to see. However, this recap pushes the plot faster than an FTL drive, allowing for sufficient backstory for the character to grow and evolve from the first page.

SPACE UNICORN BLUES shines in the representation department, too: no white default with skin tones, a disabled lead who is not cured (and is fine with it), and queer representation all over the place:

“If you mean Miss Tang, then she’s hosting the game table,”…

“The last time I was here, Ricky was a-“

“A charming host who you will find at the game table,” finished the bartender firmly.

—

Ricky’s face froze. “Oh. Are the legends really true? Unicorns are asexual? My apologies.”

It also gives a soldi study to male privilege, hilarious showcased in an example below:

Ondre launched into a detailed explanation of stoneship control mechanisms. Jenny had learned that while blasting your way out of situations worked middlingly well, the best way to extract yourself from under a man’s control was to pretend you needed his expertise. You could stall for hours with a few well-timed uniformed questions.

White privilege is also called out:

It was interesting to Gary that though the three nations that had come together to form the Reason were ostensibly equal, the officers were almost always pink people.

And, of course, there are quality sex jokes:

“Hey, since you mentioned weather forecasters, what do you call oral sex with a meteorologist who has a vagina?”

“What?” Cheryl Ann looked genuinely curious.

“Cumulolingus,” said Jenny.

and puns! (the one below is a Sister yelling at a birch dryad)

“Move it, birch, or I’ll weave a basket from your limbs,” said one Sister.

There is no reason to not buy this book. None. Adventure, romance, lesbians, unicorns, elf semen… there really is nothing else a reader could want. Grab a piece of unicorn horn and watch humanity get spanked in paperback here and ebook here. Also available in audio!

Review: Sword of the Guardian by Merry Shannon

Genre: fantasy: sword and sorcery

Pairings: f/f

Queer Representation: cis lesbian

Warnings: white default, near-rape scene (in detail), ‘girl masquerading as a boy and isn’t trans’ trope

 

Review

Orphaned from a young age by a band of village marauders, Talon and her sisters are sold to a traveling theater troupe. The two younger sisters are trained as singers and Talon, masquerading as a boy, becomes a skilled acrobat.

Some years later, during a performance, Talon has the opportunity to perform for the royal family. She impresses the Princess Shasta, but shortly thereafter an assassin kills the crown prince. Talon takes a dagger to protect the princess, lives, and she and her sisters are purchased by the king. Talon is to be the perfect protector for the princess, and the two younger girls are to be her ladies-in-waiting.

The plot progresses in a traditional romance fantasy trope fashion from there. Talon is brave and learns to be fundamentally invincible with a sword, the princess turns out to be more caring than at first appearance, they grow close, eventually Talon’s gender is revealed, they’re driven apart, they realize their feelings for each other, there’s a battle, and they finally get together.

It’s formulaic, but that doesn’t make it any less hot.

Published in 2006, SWORD OF THE GUARDIAN, at the time, filled an important role in the sparse lesfic world, allowing lesbians to see themselves in popular generic fantasy settings. SWORD took many of the tropes of male generic fantasy: berserker fighting, Gary Stu-like leads, fridged parents, and a hero’s journey, and blended them with the newly-established lesfic tropes that were emerging at the time, such as the butch character hiding their gender to survive in society, rape as a plot device to establish the morality of men, and the quintessential self-actualization of both main character and love interest (in terms of being lesbians).

Looking at SWORD as a product of its time, it was a groundbreaking piece of fiction. It didn’t have a hope of being picked up by Big Five Publishing (oh, how times have changed!) and it found its home in small press, where it could be the steamy, romantic, adventure tale we all want to be a part of.

Unfortunately, while small press gives a platform to underrepresented voices, it also lacks a lot of quality control, which is readily evident in SWORD. Under a strong editor, the book could have gone from simply ‘good’ to ‘amazing.’ The amount of repetition in the book, especially in the front half, made it virtually impossible not to skim.  Motivations, backstory, even entire phrases were repeated over and over, sometimes paraphrased, sometimes not. Much of the beginning backstory was told, not shown, in some incredible info dumps. The back third lagged and the last one hundred pages were superfluous, and only served to drag down a story that had a decent pace and strong tension, under the guise of a ‘lesbian’ happy ending which, of course, always involves marriage and a baby. It is a romance, after all.

Formulaic, of course, doesn’t mean a book is bad, by any means. In the romance genre in particular, readers have expectations as to how the story will progress, and SWORD does not disappoint. The romance between Talon and Shasta develops at a decent clip, with each interaction pushing their physicality that much closer to actual sex. The tension is palpable, the chemistry strong, and the characters dimensional enough that the lack of distinct voice can be overlooked. For a romance book, it’s really good. For an action book, or sword and sorcery fantasy, it’s mediocre at best. SWORD tries to juggle between the two and this is where it stumbles–when it tries to world build too deeply, offering stuttering political intrigue and extended battle scenes without sufficient tension or character buy-in. It shines best in the romance, the love triangle of chambermaid-guard-princess, and the relationship between Talon and her sisters.

Indicative of its time, SWORD also suffers from white default, and not subtly enough to be ignored, even with the steamy sex (not that it should ever BE ignored, but one slip or two you one usually eyeroll their way through). The consistent othering of Talon is exhausting, and Shannon seldom misses an opportunity to bring up Talon’s skin tone and how dark it is compared to everyone else (no one else HAS skin, as far as the narrative is concerned. No one else’s skin tone is every mentioned, therefore I deem it now canon that they are walking skeletons with muscle).

Talon grinned, well aware that her dark Outlander coloring and androgynous, elfin features…

…and looked down at the handsome olive-skinned face resting peacefully…

What a strange person stared back at her, she thought: this androgynous dark face with its delicate elfin features…

…picture his smooth olive skin in the lantern light.

…but for the first time she noticed how the soft white linen shirt seemed to glow against his farm olive skin…

She planted kisses on every inch of the olive skin that she could reach…

The fabric fell back to reveal a mass of ugly bruises that spread across the olive skin in a terrible rainbow…

…and Shasta’s blue feather necklace resting against the dark throat.

…the glorious warmth of her dark skin…

…and the dark skin of an Outlander…

We get it. She’s got olive skin that is apparently very dark despite olive skin not actually being all that dark. Meaning everyone else either has no skin, or is so lily white they are nearly translucent. Also dark skinned people don’t belong in the Only Kingdom That Matters. *sigh*

Another persistent problem in lesfic writing is dealing with butch characters who wear binders. The issues with this tend to stem around two focal points: 1) there is a line, though somewhat blurry, between butch women who wear binders as a presentation effect, and non binary people and trans men who do so out of gender dysphoria. Throwaway lines like so-and-so sometimes almost forgot they were a girl–erase that line and therefore scoot towards erasing our trans siblings. One does not forget their gender–it is an intrinsic part of who we are. A butch women is a woman, no matter what she wears unless she states otherwise. She isn’t going to forget she is a woman, unless she is in fact not one at all (perhaps nonbinary or a man, and working towards that realization). And SWORD establishes very early on that Talon is not a man:

…and contrary to popular belief–and evidently her own rebellious body–she was most definitely not a man.

and yet, we get this line a handful of pages later:

‘Have I been impersonating a man so long, she wondered, that somehow I’ve become one, on the inside?’

And while the above are Talon’s own thoughts on trying to figure out her sexual attraction to women, they still edge on problematic without a narrative rebuttal. Especially as Talon’s gender reveal comes without her consent, which is a consistent and really big problem in fantasy narratives. Forcible gender reveals, whether on gender nonconforming people or not, are an act of violence. And while no one rips or tears Talon’s binder (thank goodness!) she is still forced to reveal her gender after being wounded (trope! take a drink!):

“I’m tired of this, Talon, I’m sick of all your silly games and secrets. If you can’t give me one good reason–“

“I’m not a man!”

The second, more pressing issue for SWORD is the effect of a binder. Anyone who has worn a binder can tell you two things: 1) they aren’t comfortable for long term wearing (think of how much you love taking off a bra at the end of the day, now compound that times 1000) and 2) they’re dangerous. The long-term repercussions of binder wearing, especially 24 hours a day, is well documented in medical literature. They also restrict your breathing, as well as permanently deforming your ribs and moving your internal organs, much like a poorly-fitted corset.

Leaping into the center of the room, she launched right into her routine, executing two cartwheels and a front flip, bending backward, and then kicking into a handstand. With exquisite precision, she lifted one hand off the ground and held the position while one of the smaller troupe members placed delicate cups of steaming tea on the tups of her toes and in her open hand.

Hence, the idea that Talon has been wearing a binder since puberty, while working as an acrobat and then training as a swordsman, and has absolutely no issues becoming absolutely fucking fantastic at everything she does, stretches the suspension of disbelief. That she makes it into her twenties and has no long term health effects from said binder, is also highly unrealistic. SWORD is a fantasy, yes, but with a focus on lesbians and lesbian lives. As such, these particular areas deserve a bit more scrutiny than the rest.

Despite all of that, SWORD OF THE GUARDIAN was a fun read, with some very tight romantic tension and nice sex scene near the end (“Well then, Corporal, I hope I remember to whisper when I’m calling out your name.”). For those tight on time, feel free to skip the last 50-100 pages, but definitely don’t skip the beginning, as the sexual tension is set up well and is a delight to follow.

You can get yourself a binder that somehow doesn’t crush your ribs, grab a sword, and seduce a princess in paperback here and ebook here.

P.S. And yes, I did note the anatomically incorrect fungi. Spores can’t and don’t burrow, just for clarification, even in fantasyland.

 

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