End of a Ridiculous Endeavor

I am finally publishing the last of my NSFW erotic comedy series – it’s done! I can now check off “self-published dime store smut” from my life bucket list.

Honestly speaking, that’s basically the only thing I’m proud of with this series. It’s not the best series – not even my best writing, it’s cringeworthy at times – BUT I finished it and put it out there. For me this is important because typically my crippling perfectionism kills any attempts I make at trying new things. In this case though I managed it specifically BECAUSE I told myself this was worthless garbage meant to fail – and my brain bought the trick.

I can perfectly fail this!

In the spirit of owning my silliness and recognizing my true reasoning I’m adjusting all my books down to $.99/each. This means I will make a paltry $.35/each on the evil Amazon and I’m not even sure what everywhere else – but I’ve also only sold like 8 books, so meh. Not like I’m quitting my day job. This was a side quest.

Here are links to all three books in series order if anyone cares to peruse / summaries will also be available on my site here until such time I as retire it:

Alpha, Beta, Omega: The Green & The Gold


Alpha, Beta, Omega: The Gold & The Blue


Alpha, Beta, Omega: The Blue & The Green (releasing 5/5/22!)


Second Book Out Now!

Alright! Two down, one to go!

When I wrote this silly smut trilogy I wasn’t expecting to do anything with it, honestly – but then I thought what the heck, let’s just check this off the bucket list.

There is a full on sea of smut online, half of which is likely crap, and if I want to feel like I threw my lot in to the dumpster fire than by gods, let’s do it!

So here’s book two in the series which focuses on the uncles from the first book – and introduces a few new characters who will help us set up book three.

Note: This book does not include pegging (I know, but I wanted to give the men love a chance I mean I did make a silly omegaverse up to highlight silly tropes why not let them have a book?) but I promise the last one will. Hold out one more book with me and then this ridiculous arc of my imagination will end and I will likely shut down the ole’ Harper engine for good.

Here’s the links for the second book, which you can also find on my Harper’s Works page – kudos to anyone checking it out! (WARNING: I write hard core smut – do NOT read if you do not intend to read romantically described porn, that’s essentially what this is)

Evil Amazon Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09DKFVB3R

Non-Amazon Support the Small Guys Link: https://books2read.com/u/3JZ6WK

Symptoms & Side Effects

may include:
- Dizziness
- Mild to severe irritation
- Occasional heart pain
- Elevated blood pressure
- Erections (if over 4 hours seek medical attention - if over 2 hours well done)
- Sleeplessness
- Rash or impulsive behavior
- Increased sensitivity
- Loss or increase of appetite
- Emotional outbursts
- Dry mouth
- Inability to speak or think coherently
*Prolonged exposure may result in dependency or addiction

Gamer Love

“Hey hon?”
“Yes love?”
“This guy just privately messaged me and he’s offering me free armor?”
“Wait, really?”
“Yes. Has he messaged you?”
“Nope. I’m playing a male character. He must think you’re actually a girl.”
“Wait - so he’s hitting on me??”
“That’s not necessarily so. He may just think you’re a crap player who could use better armor for the sake of the team?”
“That’s terrible - and you play far worse than I do.”
“Yet no one has privately messaged me to offer free stat-raising armor. Doesn’t look good, does it?”
“But we play as a couple - we announced it at the start of the dungeon!”
“He’s still hitting on me? Isn’t that, like, against the bro code?”
“We’re not bro’s, we’re a random pick up group, love.”
“That’s still bad form.”
“Welcome to being female? I don’t know what to say here.”
“This is your fault.”
“Wait - what???”
“You’re a bad fake boyfriend player.”
“How the f--- wait, what???”
“If you had established yourself as a better boyfriend our relationship status wouldn’t be challenged by loser males in private chatboxes.”
″...you’ve got to kidding me now.”
“You ran into the first level typing ‘BLOODY T-SHIRT CONTEST!’ while button mashing your way through the horde.”
“That was hilarious!”
“That was idiocy. I’ve obviously played with far better strategy than you, and now others are offering me armor and potentially better player partners.”
“Alright that’s it, I’m kicking him.”
“Wow, way to respond with a knee-jerk, angry male reaction.”
“I just want to play a damn game with my boyfriend and now this idiot is causing us to have fuckin’ relationship discussions!”
“So you’re going to punish him for your fear of intimacy?”
“That sounds hideously un-feminist, not to mention disloyal to my already established in-game relationship.”
“Then don’t take the armor and remind that idiot you have a perfectly capable boyfriend!”
“Do I, though?”

Punch Drunk Love

Down goes the shot
and one
and two
Down goes the floodgate
and out
and up
Go the words I never say to you:
″$!@# THIS!”
“WHY would you do that?!”
“That’s stupid!”
“Ugh, so ugly...why...”
“You should really ___”
Sip goes the bottle
the first
the second
Sip goes the glass
the red
the white
Flag you never hold up otherwise:
“Wha...I said that?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hmm, let’s just cuddle.”
Round goes the world
again and
again and
Round goes our rounds
again then
again until
We slide into the other side like:
“You’re such a grouch.”
“You’re such a...wimp?”
″!@#$ you.”
And we meet in the middle
where your tipsy self
and my topsy self
make the perfect


[possibly inspired by real events]

“You need to dodge.”
“I’ll be fine, it’s nearly dead.”
“So are you. Dodge.”
“You are deteriorating faster than I can heal you. Just dodge.”
“I suck at it!”
“You’re going to suck at surviving in a few seconds.”
“I can kill it first!”
“Why can you not use the other joystick to simply move out of the way??”
“That slows down my kill time. I can handle it.”
“Did you put any points into dexterity at all?”
“Of course not. I pumped it all into strength and constitution.”
“This could be why you’ve died five times more than I have.”
“I still level up. Once my stats are high enough I’ll be fine.”
“When you hear the word ‘tank’, do you not also picture a mobile armed attack unit?”
“Pretty sure your skills reset already, you wanna heal more and harp less?”
“No, I want to address the underlying player health issue here.”
“Dodge, or I will stop healing you.”
“Let me die and you’ll have no one to pull aggro.”
“Alas, if only I had a living, moving tank.”
“Fine, we’ll both die together.”
“I hear I will still level up.”
“Is there a block button? Maybe I can block.”
“You’re actively trying to provoke me now, right?”

Coping Mechanisms

I've done all I can 

I've tried, I swear
Clean living 
Cutting back 
Stepping out 
Thinking hard

I've got nothing 
No clue
No ideas
No hope
No excuses

Because it's still beating 


It won't stop
For you. 

Blind Love

I love people.
I hate intolerance and injustice.

I love white people.
I hate racism, particularly from long established standpoints of cultural privilege where it is the most harmful.

I love men.
I hate toxic masculinity and patriarchy norms.

I love peacekeepers.
I hate systemic abuses of power from positions of authority.

I love civil servants.
I hate political diatribe, corruption, and empty rhetoric.

I love hard workers.
I hate the notion that one’s work ethic or ability defines their worth as a human being.

I love people of faith.
I hate blind devotion to traditions that cause others harm.

I love businesses.
I hate unfair oligarchies and market practices which favor the few over their fellows.

I love the ignorant.
I hate the belligerent refusal to educate yourself.

I love the educated.
I hate self-righteous bullying over common sense and decency towards others.
I may love blindly
But I must hate with precision.
’Lest the things I hate
Turn the things I love
Into perpetrators
Rather than vessels for change

Healthy vs Unhealthy Distractions

Alright – I think I hate Twitter.

Well – let me clarify: I think I hate Twitter for any discussion which requires serious thought or consideration.

The issue with discussing serious topics in a format of only 280 characters lies not only in the lack of obvious ability to say much in 280 characters, particularly on social issues which are complex and multifaceted – the easy shit like “Hey, let’s be less racist”, like that works – but also in too much sharing of individual experiences, too much skewing of individual experiences to fit generalized world views, and not. enough. context. ever.

Like so much lack of context. No wonder everybody’s so angry / anxious all the time, you get to hear just the good, the bad, and the ugly – and most of it’s ugly.

I do however enjoy the jokes, the random thoughts (thoughts – not opinions), and the ideas. These things fit well in a 280 character format, and often require little to no real context because they’re just there, you throw them out and see if they fall flat or not. Like pasta on a wall.

Therefore while I told myself this in the beginning – I’m new to social media, honestly, and obviously I’ve mucked it up my first go and hey let’s be real I may muck it up a few more times – moving forward when I feel the need to Tweet I will try to ask myself the three queries above: Is it a joke? Is it a random thought and NOT an opinion (i.e. does it start with the words, “I wonder” or “I believe” or “Sometimes” or “Maybe”, engendering the idea I am not sure/knowing but am pondering only), and lastly is it an idea.

Now, I won’t say whether it needs to be a good idea, bad idea, dangerous idea, or stupid idea – that’s subjective thinking right there. Just any idea, really.

Also – I must watch myself on these points particularly when REPLYING to things because knee-jerk reactions are painful and only add fuel to the fire which is our globally-warmed collective social conscious.

…maybe I’ll only check Twitter on days that start with a T.

The Stuff Legends Aren’t Made Of

The daft elf stood, stark and pompous, like a tree barely bending to the wind. The wood of his bow curved tightly around slender hands that could barely grip a sword let alone a proper weapon. I imagined smashing the bow but not the hands - I’m not that much of a monster. 

“We should go north, the trail leads that way.” In some all-knowing voice, as usual. Thinks he knows everything just because his precious ears curl upwards like fancy head ornaments. 

“Are you sure?” I always ask, not because he’s not - he always is - but because I enjoy the irritation in his expression from being questioned. 

“Of course.” He denies me my pleasure. Asshole. 

I grunt in my usual form of communication and pick up my axe - the only true partner I’ll ever have - and heft it over one shoulder. Sure, I’m posturing - but this idiot does that every second he breathes. “Then let’s move out. I don’t look forward to being in the forest after sunset.” 

“What, afraid of a big bad wolf?” He smirks and I really, really reconsider smashing some bits of him. 

“No, mostly afraid of you being eaten.” I grin with all my teeth - especially the pointed ones I get from my father - and his expression falls a bit. Ha. Take that, toothpick. 


I can feel her gaze on my back and I know she’s already judging me. I’m too scrawny, too pale, too adorable. She’s written me off probably a thousand ways in a thousand imaginary death scenes. Gods I hate her. 

“We should go north, the trail leads that way.” I never let her ruffle my feathers. I was raised as a ranger, a noble profession, and without my expert guidance her elephantine ass would be lost in these woods. 

“Are you sure?” She always questions me. I hate it. It’s like she doesn’t even listen to me the first time I speak. Or else she’s just trying to goad me into anger - a purely infantile emotional response. I’ve fallen for it before, in moments of weakness. But not now. 

“Of course.” I keep my face calm and serene, always calm and serene. Don’t let her get to you, I remind myself for probably the hundredth time.

She makes a sound indicative of her upbringing before adding, “Then let’s move out. I don’t look forward to being in the forest after sunset.” Always on the move, that one. Probably outrunning some inner demons from her past. She looks like the brooding type. I should have listened to my father and not gotten invovled with people who carry so much emotional baggage.

“What, afraid of a big bad wolf?” I don’t just smile - I smirk. She can tell the difference. She judges me enough she’s probably catalogued all my expressions. Stupid half-orc. 

“No, mostly afraid of you being eaten.” She flashes those teeth - those awful, pointy teeth, the stuff of nightmares - and for a small second I feel a tingle down my spine as I remember exactly what her people are capable of. The people my people helped create, I admit to myself a half-second later, lest I fall victim again to my own bigotry. Her existence is as much my father’s fault as her own. 

I still hate her though. 


“We should go north, the trail leads that way.”  The noble ranger declares, his bow cocked and ready for a fight. His long hair whips in the wind and he strikes a truly noble pose, indicative of his good genes and upbringing. He is the last of the Willowbenders, defenders of the Halls of Eyria. To travel with him is an honor and a delight. 

“Are you sure?” Our fearless leader questions. She was born to lead. Her thick armor hides a noble heart, born out of a forbidden love that brought together the humblest salt of the Earth and the harshest of its so-called defenders. Even the Willowbenders are not without sin, after all. 

“Of course.” His keen sense of direction can never be wrong. 

The daughter of the abhorred makes a deep noise that rumbles in her heavyset frame, her natural strength on display as she shifts her axe over one shoulder with ease. The power in such a motion cannot be understated. “Then let’s move out. I don’t look forward to being in the forest after sunset.” 

“What, afraid of a big bad wolf?”  The verbal volley is expertly thrown, the companionship between these two respected warriors palpable. I hold my breath, waiting for magic to happen. 

“No, mostly afraid of you being eaten.” And there it is! She’s obviously flirting with that expression - such sexual dominance, a Willowbender should be so lucky. I swear I can see a small flush crawl up his ears as they both turn towards the path ahead, the chemistry between them lost to our quest. One day, perhaps, when the world allows them to lay down their weapons, this thing between them might rekindle into the fire that longs to consume them both. 

“Hey - bard. Are you coming?” Oh dear - they’ve spoken to me.

I clear my throat nervously, “Oh, right! Just jotting down some inspiration, maybe some ideas for an edda or two. Coming!” I quickly finish my scrawl and leap to my feet. 

There is no rest for the stalwart witnesses to history. Someone must chronicle these moments, these hidden thoughts and emotions, lest future generations forget or worse disregard the bonds that draw us all together.