At turns spontaneous, earthy, soulful and creative, the pseudonymous author known as Jan West has in some way or form been a storyteller since they can remember. While erotic fiction may be a main focus, reveling in the triumph and tragedy of humanity's true spirit remains at the center--whether it is the anguish of unacknowledged love, the grit of adversity, the thrill of sexual exploration, the wonder of new beginnings. From the furthest reaches of the far-flung future, to the domesticated landscapes of suburban America, the deepest, darkest secrets of man and womankind are never far behind--if only one knew where to look.
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Snow Tires on a Chevrolet
by Jan West
Scott is a man stuck in the past and afraid of the future. Trapped in a dead-end job he hates, pining for the crush he never thought he'd have, he yearns for the freedom of a writer's life. When a freak snowstorm causes the girl of his dreams to land on his doorstep, boundaries are tested. But is he up to the challenge?
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Smashwords book reviews by Jan West
on June 12, 2018
Very rarely does erotica transcend itself. It’s purpose is often utilitarian and transient—the temporary gratification of sexual desire, however fleeting. Once and awhile though something comes along though that reaches inside and pulls you deeper, into another state of being. That is how I felt about Bibliopolist’s Blood Sacrifice. It is difficult to say exactly what is so different about it, but as a writer and a reader I know the on some level that we can all relate on some level to the outsider looking in—
Young Taja is at a crossroads. Not quite an adult, but too young for adulthood, she yearns for freedom—sexual and otherwise. Heedless of the prohibitions against touching the Goodbye Tree—an omen of death in her pre-industrial village—she comes back to it again and again, convinced of a world outside her own. When she is chosen as a ritual sacrifice to the gods at first she is apprehensive—until a chance encounter with them in the woods unveils a new world of sexual freedom as she’d never dreamed before.
At once Blood Sacrifice is a tale of a kind of death—of childhood, of naïveté, of ritual superstition. Ritually bound as tribute to the gods, her deflowering is a passing over in a sense from girlhood to womanhood. Having lost her virginity to the gods, she returns to her community with renewed purpose—as spiritual sustenance to the men of the tribe. In her womb there is literal power. How could it not be otherwise?
At a mere 48 pages, Blood Sacrifice at first seems a daunting read. But I promise it is well worth the ride.