Emily S. Hurricane's Blog

Mary’s in the kitchen, and my beer is almost empty. The fuck she doing in there? She’s makin’ so much noise it’s distracting from the game.

loss and sack fuck sakes

That clang better’ve been a beer bottle coming out of the fridge. If I wasn’t so busy I’d go in there and remind her what her fuckin’ responsibilities are.

TOUCHDOWN MONTREAL! put em in a fuckin’ body bag

I can barely get the glass to my mouth, my arm’s like a noodle, must have overdone it yesterday with the goddamn wood, if Mary got off her ass and helped haul I wouldn’t be so sore. Keepin’ this fuckin’ house warm for her ain’t good enough maybe I should lock her out in the snow and see how she likes bein’ fuckin’ cold.

Beer’s warm as piss, what’s takin’ her so long?

“Oh, honey, you dribbled on yourself again, let me get that.” Her voice is sweet as pie, and I want to smack that smirk right off her face. I can’t even jerk away as she dabs at my chin with her blue and white napkin—hate that fucking napkin. “There you go, and here’s a fresh beer for my special man. And a nice juicy sandwich.”

“Wi—ex—mu, muh—”

“With extra mustard, just how you like it.” She sets the plate on my lap, her grandma’s ugly flower quilt over my legs like I’m an old lady.

Where’s my Ti-Cats blanket? I musta grabbed the wrong one when I came in here. That’s why we’re losing. Mary did something with my blanket, her stupid smelly old blanket shouldn’t even be in this room. The living room is mine, my game space. My man space.

up the gut for a first down six point lead fuck

“Osk-Osk-”

“Wee wee, wa wa,” Mary says with a roll of her eyes. What the hell is up with her attitude today? When this game is done I’m gonna remind her how to speak to me. “Eat up, honey, I’m running low on meat, so enjoy it.”

Better not run out of fuckin’ meat.

She runs her fingers down the back of my neck, affectionate like she used to do when we were dating. Tryin’a suck up to me so I’ll go easier on her later.

hamilton field goal, come on boys

She better be prayin’ we don’t lose this game. It’d be so much worse for her.

I finally get the sandwich to my mouth, hand quivery, mustard squelching. The meat is nice and rare, but a bit stringy, even for pulled pork. Forget that, we just got another field goal and we’re tied now and take it home, boys.

The sandwich droops, meat slopping into my lap, bread thin and soggy and hard to hold. Too rare, too much blood, how many lessons am I gonna to have to teach that bitch today?

rambo’s got it down inside the 45

No. No no no. This ain’t happening.

“Christ honey, you’ve made a mess of the quilt.”

“F-fu—” ck the quilt, don’t interrupt me—

and the kick is up for the win!

“Nnnn—” My face contorts in rage and Mary jumps up and down next to the tv, hands up in the air.

The fuck is she wearing? I ain’t never seen that dress before, she better not’ve gone out of the house with that much cleavage showin’. My wife ain’t no whore. Dangly earrings bounce in time with her tits—when the hell did she get her ears pierced?

“Montreal gets the job done and the Alouettes are off to the Grey Cup!” she cries in perfect sync with the announcer, clappin’ her hands as a shit-eating grin opens her face. “That’s my favourite part.”

“Wh-Wh-wha—” My mustard tongue swells against my teeth.

She snatches up the remote—that’s MINE—and the cheers and roars pause. The game’s paused. What the fuck? This is supposed to be live.

“I don’t think you’re going to last much longer, I suppose I can throw this in the garbage.” Is that her iron? The fuck’s she ironin’ in here? Why’s it all crusty?

She kneels on the shag carpet, showin’ off her melons, does she think that’s gonna make me soft?

I’m gonna turn her black and blue. I’m gonna choke her until tears carve fuckin’ quarries in her cheeks.

Just as soon as I can get up.

“I’ve started that jewelry making business I’ve always wanted,” she says—oh bitch, you’re diggin’ your grave. “I turned your workshop into an art studio and I’m making bank, everyone loves my unique pieces.” She wiggles her head, making the bedazzled clay clack against her pretty neck.

She ain’t supposed to have her own money. I’m the breadwinner, she makes the fuckin’ bread.

She punts the beer glass out of my hand like she’s kickin’ a fuckin’ field goal, glass bouncing on the carpet, foam spreading, sucking up breadcrumbs.

Then the cunt winks at me. “You don’t need this anymore. I don’t think there’s any drug I could get my hands on that will keep you alive. You look dead already.”

My palms itch, I can see myself breaking her fuckin’ nose—

“It’s been fun, torturing you with this game.” She grabs the quilt, nails painted hooker red, what in the everlovin’ fuck has happened to my wife? “I’ll restart it for you, so you can bleed out listening to your precious team losing. I just need a little harvest for a necklace commission.”

I stare dumbly down at where my legs used to be. I can’t move I can’t—is that a saw? Black and yellow tie crisscrossed over my thighs squeezin’ me where are my LEGS—fallen meat from the sandwich looks just like the shaggy gore of my body—my body, my fuckin’ legs oh god oh fuck—bile risin’ but there’s no room to puke I’m gonna choke—

“Try not to pass out from shock, honey.”

A zombie stares at me from the saw blade, my fuckin’ saw, covered in—covered in—

“It would be so much sweeter for me if you’re awake to die.”

The Curiosities and Oddities Show is bustling, aisles of handcrafted goodies made with care. Tables covered in colourful jars of lotions, candles made from ethically-sourced fats and oils. Jewelry of all shapes and sizes, paintings decorating countless booths. Purses made with real leather, some decorated with intricate tattoos.

Mary smiles warmly as a middle-aged woman with a cute pixie cut examines a pair of delicate earrings. Mary had drilled little holes around the middle and inlaid obsidian shards, giving them an elegant gothic look.

“These are gorgeous,” the woman coos. “Your pieces are so unique. Is it real bone?”

“Yes,” Mary replies. “Ethically-sourced, of course.” She shares a wink with Chloe, the woman at the table next to her, who is practically glowing these days. The last of her bruises have faded now, leaving behind colour on her cheeks and brightness in her eyes.

The customer gasps at the sight of Chloe’s handbags. “What a lovely design!” She runs a finger over the mandala on the front flap.

“I’m very good with a needle and ink,” Chloe says, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

The customer wanders down the aisle carrying a brand new purse and wearing a pair of earrings like a sigil.

Mary and Chloe share excited smiles.

Huge thank you to for hosting such a cool community event, make sure to check out their listing of all participating stories! Looking forward to binging them all!

Also thanks to everyone who read my drafts, for all the betas, edits, and idea-bouncing. Especially for keeping me sane through my panicking. <3 This was a fun one.

One or two quick notes in case you want some fun Canadian facts:

The Hamilton Tiger Cats official fan chant is ‘Oskee wee wee! Oskee wa wa! Holy mackinaw! Tigers! Eat ‘em raw!’ How many times do you think Mary heard that one coming from the living room?

The game Mary’s torturing her husband with (he doesn’t have a name, fuck him) is the 2025 Eastern Final, Hamilton vs. Montreal. It was a nail biter, and an absolute blast for my Argo-fan parents.

While I didn’t have a specific Canadian locale in mind for this story when I started it, by the time I got to the last scene I couldn’t help choosing the Halifax Curiosities and Oddities show as the market setting. It’s a real market that happens once a year with the absolute best creative crafts and trinkets. While there are artisans there that make jewelry from ethically-sourced bones (one woman has a bumper sticker that boasts I STOP FOR ROADKILL) I am in no way insinuating that anyone has murdered their husbands and is using the parts for their crafts.

Because I needed to add more shit to my already busy schedule (ha), I did a thing. This thing, to be precise:

I’ve been publishing erotica shorts since 2017, back in the good ol’ days where one could actually pay their bills with short erotica on Kindle Unlimited. Those glory days have passed, but writing smutty short stories is something I love to do.

It’s a great way to not only explore the filthy part of my brain, but also to keep my creative muscle flexing when I’m stuck on longer projects. Sometimes I end up getting really into the setup or worldbuilding and it creates ideas for longer projects.

Either way, can’t stop won’t stop.

Back in the day, to keep things organized on KU, I had multiple pen names for different niches. Eventually, when I stopped publishing shorts, it didn’t make sense to hang on to these or keep using them, because the money side ain’t what it used to be and it wasn’t worth it. My plan when I started my Patreon was to just have the shorts available there, figuring my regular readers don’t care that I hop niches all over the place like a horny kangaroo.

I left the femdom collection that still does well (in audio too, with boss narrator Cecily Foster), and the Ophelia Storm collection Bad Habits because they go together and are just so silly and I love them. The rest have migrated to Patreon and Hurricane After Dark (though with Patreon’s annoying changes making it worse and worse for authors to sell anything, I might nuke it next year).

I wanted to package them, and to be honest, I just wanted a pretty hardcover for my shelf. Some of these stories are so old, and reading them next to my newer ones makes me giggle but it’s also humbling to see how far I’ve come. Not to mention, the early ones hold a special place in my heart because my very first foray into publishing was erotic shorts. It’s how I learned everything that I know about indie publishing. It’s how I built up my knowledge so when I was ready to release a long romance, I had a bomb release and confidently knew what I was doing.

I have r/eroticauthors and many many hours of guinea-pigging myself to thank for this knowledge and confidence. My old smut is a reminder of a time when my daughter was just toddling, and I’d walk around the block with her sleeping in a baby carrier (she wouldn’t sleep ever unless she was on me), writing on my phone because I couldn’t sit at a desk. A time where AI hadn’t yet decimated the editing and ghostwriting industry and I was able to have steady work from home. A time when my publishing journey was ahead of me, with so many exciting plans.

Oh, sweet summer child.

Anyway. It took me a long time to decide how I wanted to deal with publishing these, and I tortured myself with all of the nitty gritty marketable shit until I realized…I don’t have to do it the normal way. I can just do this because I want to, how I want to.

So here’s what I wanted. A linen wrap hardcover in red, with a pretty dust jacket. A price that wasn’t insanely inflated by distribution fees. Excellent paper quality. And to be as indulgent as I wanted with the design.

I might have gone a little overboard.

But whatever. The beauty of indie pub is we can do whatever the fuck we want.

If you’re interested in owning this ridiculous beast, it’ll available on Lulu. Canada Post is on strike (again) and I’m not sure when they’ll be running again, so I might not be able to get a test copy before I can’t wait to pull the trigger any longer. But Lulu has never done me wrong on printing, so YOLO.

There will a linen-wrap hardcover with a slutty dust jacket and all the indulgent ridiculous interior design, and a paperback pocketbook cuz I love to be able to fit porn in my purse. I originally wanted to do a pocket size hardcover but alas, no POD does that…so I said fuck it, and did both.

Planning on doing this every year, so future volumes won’t be as busty as this one.

Thanks to all of you crazies on here that make me feel less alone in the world, the Substack writers who remind me every day that fiction is culture, that we can create and collaborate and make cool shit all day, every day. I appreciate the hell out of all of you. <3 Let’s all keep making cool shit.

The hardcover isn’t quite ready yet, but I wanted to announce it on my birthday because hell yeah. I still have some tinkering to do, but as soon as it’s live, you’ll be the first to know. Well, will be the first to know. Then, THE WORLD.

In the meantime, if you wanted to celebrate my birthday, you can do so by helping out :

THE SHIELDBREAKER SAGAIntroducing RECIPES TO FEED THE DUCKSWe the Undersigned, who have spent the first ten months of this year promoting the work of a few of our fellow artists and authors who found themselves with their backs against the wall, now find ourselves in the unenviable position of seeing one of our own founding members in a similarly difficult situation…Read more11 days ago · 62 likes · 19 comments · Tom Schecter

Fiction is motherfucking culture, babes. Support Zani, and if you restack the above post before tomorrow you’ll have an entry into a draw, winner gets a copy of ’s Shieldbreaker!

Happy Halloween <3

The bass thrummed through Liliana’s bones as she rolled onto her back, bare skin hot against the cool wood of the stage. Colourful lights bathed her flesh in an ethereal glow, passionate hues of pink, red, deep purple.

She lost herself in the music, lithe body gyrating as she curled her arms back, running her fingers through her honey tresses and spreading her knees.

She loved putting herself on display like this, the powerful feeling of being desired but untouchable. Taking back her own body, hers, running her own hands down her creamy thighs while the hungry eyes of the audience devoured her.

Dancing had always been a secret passion, something she’d kept close to her heart, something she’d faked being bad at in her previous life because she didn’t want it to be taken from her like everything else.

By the time her set was over, she walked backstage with her discarded outfit over her shoulder and a fat stack of bills in her hand. Most of it would go to the house, but it still felt good to hold it before she had to dish it out.

“Hey, Lil, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Liliana’s breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes for a beat. She’d anticipated this coming, but not this soon. Cassie had been nice enough to let her crash on her couch since she’d started working at the club until she could get a place of her own, but a recent new boyfriend had thrown a wrench in those plans. When it had become clear that she wasn’t interested in being their third in the bedroom, Derek hadn’t been subtle about not wanting her in the apartment.

She’d hoped that maybe Cassie wouldn’t keep him around, but the apologetic look in her coworker’s eyes told her that this wasn’t going to be a conversation on how to dump her boyfriend.

“…going to need the extra key back,” Cassie was saying, and Lili pasted an agreeable smile on her face, inclining her head towards the change rooms.

“Yeah, no problem, let me grab it from my locker.” She led the way, earlier swagger a lot more muted, the high from her performance leaching out of her with each step. She didn’t want to make Cassie feel bad. She was kind, far too kind for a douchebag like Derek. Liliana couldn’t help but think she should have made a move herself on the woman—maybe if she had, then Derek would have never been in the picture in the first place.

But the last thing Liliana needed was a relationship. She’d known it when she arrived on the east coast, and she knew it now. Like her coworker, she had terrible taste in men. Though maybe not taking a chance on sweet women like Cassie was just icing on the cake of bad decisions in her life.

She handed over the key and Cassie took it, bringing it to her chest and pursing her lips as if she wanted to say something but held back.

“See you tomorrow?” she finally asked, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the change room.

Liliana offered her the best smile she could muster. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.” She turned back to her locker, not wanting the other woman to see her expression fall. She pulled out the worn messenger bag that had contained her entire life in it for what felt like far too long now.

She changed into her street clothes, a pair of black leggings and a matching long-sleeved baggy t-shirt with a thin hood, pulling it up like a suit of armour. It would be, tonight, depending on where she was going to sleep.

Alec looked up from his paperwork as she knocked on the doorframe of his office, his greasy hair shining under the fluorescent lighting above. “Hook me up, doll,” he said out of the side of his mouth, the other clutching a filterless cigarette half-soaked with the sweat from his upper lip.

Liliana tossed the stack on his desk, crossing her arms to wait for him to count it. As always, he never gave her actual numbers, likely because he changed her percentage every time.

“Don’t give me that face.” He slid a significantly smaller stack towards her. “You know how expensive it is to keep this place under the radar.”

“I don’t, actually.” Liliana shoved her earnings into the bottom of her bag and threw it back over her shoulder. “But I gotta trust you, right?” The words felt sour in her mouth, but keeping her boss happy was in her best interests. Just not too happy, she thought as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

“Right. We’re providing an important service here. And I gotta take care of you girls, too.”

The word girls sent an unpleasant shiver up her spine. Women, you asshole. “Thanks,” she said instead, and turned towards the back door.

Cassie stood by the dressing room, chatting with a few others, and her big doe eyes met Liliana’s before giving a little wave.

Liliana returned it before she burst out the back entrance into a dark area of the parking lot.

“Oh, it’s you.”

The disdainful words made her skin crawl, and she whipped around, heels clacking on the cracked asphalt.

There was a distinct lack of security at the door, and she cursed herself for not checking the time before she’d exited. They were horrendously short-staffed on security, so the back door was only manned at certain times of night.

One look at Derek’s smug face, though, and Liliana couldn’t help herself. Cassie she’d wanted to be nice to…Derek’s feelings, however, meant less than nothing.

“I’ll be happy not to wake up to your ugly mug anymore.” She tightened the strap of her shoulder bag and affected her best resting bitch face.

His sneer transformed his already pig-like face into something monstrous. “Stuck-up cunt, have fun getting railed in an alleyway.”

“Would be preferable to your microscopic dick.” To accentuate her point, Liliana raised her pinky finger, giving it a weak little wiggle.

He snarled and lashed out to snatch her wrist, and while she was fast enough to dodge that, her traitorous heels tripped her up and she stumbled as she tried to dive away. Strong fingers curled around the back of her neck and panic instantly gripped her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs.

Memories flooded her in a visceral wave, of pincer grips on the back of her neck, fingers pressing into her throat, hot drunk breath in her ear—

She struggled for sanity, struggled for purchase, struggled to remember that she wasn’t fucking helpless anymore, and she thrashed.

She twisted her body and jabbed back with her elbow, other fist curling and hitting something fleshy. Derek let out a huffing oof and his hold loosened just enough for her to slash at him, clawing at whatever flesh she could get her nails into, tearing, desperate, breaking not just this man but fucking all of them.

As soon as she was free she staggered away, leaving him hurling obscenities, glad she’d tightened her bag so she could just run, just go, get the hell away from this asshole—

Away, away, to where? If he ran after her she was fucked in these stupid shoes. She’d need flats if she wasn’t staying at Cassie’s so close anymore, if she was going to be out in the world needing to run.

She made it out of the parking lot and around a building before she realized he wasn’t coming after her. Her ankles were thankfully intact as she’d managed to sprint on her toes, but she slowed anyway. Adrenaline could cover up all kinds of pain, and she needed her ankles to be functional so she could do her job.

At the club where she’d be using the damn front entrance when the back wasn’t manned.

Stupid, stupid. Had she just kept her mouth shut and walked off then…well, it was done now.

Liliana crossed her arms as she walked, heading towards the water to clear her head. There was one place she could go that wouldn’t charge as much as a hotel room, especially not in the middle of the night…but she needed to chill the hell out first. She didn’t want to burst in there all freaked out and sketchy.

She rubbed the back of her neck absently as she tried to soothe the buzzing in her veins from the fight-or-flight.

Eventually, a few raucous hoots and hollers echoed in the distance along with some alt rock ballad warbling from the pub on the water. Liliana made her way around the opposite side of the building, not in the mood to navigate annoying drunk people.

The noise was comforting, though. Proof of life. Some kind of happiness, had by someone.

Liliana walked the landing lookout, finding a spot where she could sit and watch the water alone, the pub noise just within earshot. She pulled off her shoulder bag, hugging it to her chest as she leaned down to unbuckle her heels. She drew her legs up under her on the bench, taking in a deep breath.

So many of the locals complained that the harbours in Nova Scotia smelled like shit, but she’d come from the Greater Toronto Area, where the air felt like it could climb inside your lungs and shred them from the inside out.

To her, the maritimes air smelled fresh no matter where she was, in the highlands, on the beach, anywhere. The cool night air ghosted over the thin fabric of her top, but didn’t elicit a shiver. She had experience in the cold, trapped under Ontario winters feeling like she’d never be warm again. It was spring now on the ocean, which meant fresh breezes and cheap lobster and what should be a quiet and content life.

Instead her mouth tasted like failure.

But you’re free, and you’re alive.

Free and alive.

A mantra forever churning in her brain to remind her why she was here, why she tried so damn hard. After tonight she’d have to try even harder.

Prrrrowwww?

Liliana startled at the sound, snapping her gaze beside her where a dainty black cat parked its bum next to her on the bench.

“Jesus, you scared me,” she muttered, but reached out to lightly scratch the cat’s scruff. “You’re a little ways from home, huh?”

Funny that she’d come across this particular cat that spent its days sunning itself outside of the hostel on the other side of the highway. She frequented that place when she needed a bite to eat and couldn’t stand another off-brand mac and cheese or canned soup. The guys that ran it didn’t fuck around when it came to the hearty food they prepared there, and they charged very low, if at all.

Liliana gave the cat big long pets all down its back and tail. “Some asshole got me kicked out by my friend,” she cooed. “But your boys like me, right? They wouldn’t turn me away.”

The cat responded with more purring, bonking her hand with its head. She sighed, and the cat climbed up onto her lap, not curling up and getting comfortable but standing there, paws poking down into her thighs.

Prrrrt!

“I guess I could at least bring their kitty home, huh?” She used both her hands to scratch behind the cat’s ears, the only creature that appreciated her sharp nails.

As if in response, the cat climbed up her chest, perching on her shoulder and nuzzling her cheek.

Liliana couldn’t help but smile, and decided herself chill enough to head out.

Animals were way better than people.

Wildflower, now available on Kindle Unlimited!

BUY NOW

Anyone who’s been around long enough to read my books knows I am a Jill-of-all-genres. I can’t sit still, with my reading or my writing. Does that make branding impossible? Yes, yes it does.

But as much as it would be cool as fuck to live off of my writing, I’ve never been in it for the branding. The amazing Pixie Stormcrow once helped me out with this, pointing out that across all of the genres I write, my commonality is hot mess characters.

Beautifully Flawed became my tag line (after much workshopping, thank you Pixie you are a patient and wonderful STAR), and it occurred to me that exploring characters with a lot of fucking problems was what drew me to a story that needed to be told.

Sure, I’m inspired by many things, and enjoy crafting a world and mapping out loose plot points and throwing wrenches in character’s plans. But the real inception for every story, every book of mine is how fucked-up a character is and what journey they can take. Whether it be to recovery or rock-bottom.

In romance, it’s recovery, as per the genre convention, but shit can’t be easy. Yes, romance has a happily ever after, but the challenge is to make a story compelling even when the reader knows things are going to be okay. It is a delicious, fun challenge, to make them forget that things will turn out, make them scared that it’s all going to go to shit.

As much as I enjoyed the tender moments in Wildflower, the so-sweet-it-hurts-your-teeth moments, and yes, the steamy moments, I found the most immersion in the difficult moments. The times where it feels like everything is fucking awful and nothing is going to ever be okay again.

Liliana has made too many bad decisions and continues to make them, deep down she wants to be a good person, a better person, but doesn’t know how. The first step is addressing her mistakes, but that takes a hell of a long time, and emotions make things messy.

Izzy and Ambrose have been down that road, and are doing their best with what they have, caring for each other and for others through the struggle of cost-of-living and homelessness in Nova Scotia. They haven’t always made the right choices either, but they know where their priorities lie and their mission is to keep people safe, fed, healthy. It’s not an easy road for them, either.

All this in a setting that I wanted to be bleak and hopeful at the same time. Because that’s what life feels like, in the real world. The real world is fucking terrifying, much of the time. All we can do is find hope, do our best to be kind and find happiness in the little things.

That’s what I wanted for Wildflower. I wrote it during a time when I felt hopeless. It was a balm to my anxious gut, in a lot of ways. Maybe it can be that for others, too.

Bad habits are hard to break.

And Liliana's worst habit by far is surrounding herself with toxic men. Now she’s alone and on the run, with a chip on her shoulder and nobody to trust.

She finds escape and solace working at an underground club where her identity is as fluid as her performance around the pole. That is, until her roommate kicks her out and she's left with no other choice than to move into the local hostel.

Where she meets her next bad habit. Or two.

Iseul and Ambrose, the owners of the hostel and long-time best friends. They’re kind, selfless, and too good to be true.

Liliana is determined to keep both men at arm’s length, unwilling to let herself be indebted to anyone. Iseul and Ambrose are relentlessly patient, their own understanding of trauma giving them an edge in navigating those who need help. All they want is her trust, and to keep her safe.

They’re going to need that trust when her past finally catches up with her…

And demands retribution.

(Blurb doctor: Alexandria Lee)

If you’d prefer a sample of my angsty-ass hot-mess romance without commitment, my other Canadian AF contemporary romance is FREE from June 27th to 29th.

Get for FREE now!

All bad decisions are born out of one key moment.

A moment, thoughtless or not, where you choose wrong over right. Evil over good. You roll the dice and brace for the consequences, and that's exactly what Jolie and Carson did the day they met by mistake.

One wrong number, one simple conversation over text, and their lives as they knew it were gone.

Jolie, a miserable housewife who clings to the bottle just to get by, and Carson, a doctor who's stitched together the perfect facade to hide his failed marriage from his children and colleagues.

Loneliness consumes them both, and when they find an unlikely friend at the end of a stranger's phone number, they cling to whatever connection they can get. Neither intended to cross any lines, but then again, good people rarely intend to do bad things.

For Jolie and Carson, their key moment was fast and not at all easy.

And the consequences might be even worse.

She’s cute, the way her cheek dimples, only on the left side. Her eyes a bright violet, the colour you can only get from injections. The skin crinkles in the corners when she smiles, where people used to have laugh lines. Proof of previous laughs, happiness etched in skin.

Says her name is Petal, and I doubt it, but I roll with it because I’m working now, but I want her later. I only have a few more minutes to flirt before I have to move, and I want to move with her number secured. Later, I want to find out if her cheek dimples when she moans.

I down the rest of my cloffee—stupid name, but coffee plants have been extinct for thirty years and the cloned plants are better than flavored crystals—and make a show of smacking my crimson-stained lips.

I’m ready to go in for the kill, charm Petal’s creds out of her so I can continue to charm her while we’re apart.

There’s something on her face. I resist the urge to reach up and brush it off. Too much contact too fast scares folks off these days.

She doesn’t react as the something grows, a tear in that perfect dimpled cheek, skin curling off, spiraling and festering, unwrapping a morbid present of viscera beneath.

Shit. I’ve been hacked.

Petal asks what I do for a living, and I have to stay cool as her eyelashes sizzle and her lids split, torn above oozing eyeballs, a lavender gunk parade sludging down the sides of her nose.

Nobody untrustworthy knows about my mods, nobody would squeal because if one of us goes down all of us go down. Saw open our skulls with extreme prejudice, scoop out every last copper giblet from our brain stems and toss them in the incinerator.

I tell her I work in finance, which is less sexy than I can usually come up with but it's hard to think straight while her lips blister and boil, a mouldy forked tongue running over them, what would have been flirtatious just smearing pus like putrid lipstick.

Might not be the feds, maybe it's someone fucking with me. Maybe Sol is still pissed I stood her up last week and she's digging her claws into my augments to make sure I never get laid again.

My stomach lurches as Petal's fingernail grows teeth, gnashing at her pretty slender digit, blood spattering all over her yellow sundress. Is it sick that I still want her? I know that what I'm seeing is an illusion, beneath the gore is still the pretty little thing I want riding my face.

The back of my neck warms as my defense systems run on overdrive. I might have to find a quiet place to lay down and focus, if my automation can't deal with it.

I run the back of my hand along Petal's shoulder, still smooth and unfazed, but before I can wrap up our conversation and get her details for later, the flesh splits and a tentacle shoots out, taking my wrist in a viselike grip.

It's smooth and slimy and strong and it takes me a second to register I shouldn't be able to feel an illusion.

Petal's asking me what's wrong, but her voice sounds far away, garbled, and I'm trying to back away because if someone is so fucking deep in my augments that organ tentacles can hold me—

I wrench myself away, the floor is muck and everything is too loud and how am I supposed to—

Outside is worse, the sky's gone piss yellow and there's a foghorn right next to my head and the people, the people are abominations and I can't vomit even though I want to, my muscles won't cooperate and it's stuck in my throat, stomach acid searing napalm fuck.

My brain/what is brain/is—not—my

Floating, maybe. I can breathe. I can't see, it's too dark. I was on the street. Am I still? Am I trapped in a puppeteer's hands, now? Someone else controls my senses? Would I know if my body is being moved to another location? Will they plug me in or just empty me out?

I need to get out, need to get home. My wife is waiting for me. She'll be so worried. Sol, I can see your face, I can almost smell your lavender/no wait whatthe—rose perfume, the soft curls of your ebony hair dancing over your shoulders, my god you're so beautiful I need to get home to you.

It's a gorgeous day, the birds are chirping and/im supposed to be working/I don't have anything else to do on this beautiful afternoon than buy flowers for my wife. Sol loves roses, the expensive clones not geranium knockoffs, only the best for my lady. I can hear her excited squeal as if she were next to me, I can't wait to see her face when I come through the door with them.

help

She's my everything. Sol, I'm coming home to you.

It was the first June since I’d moved to Nova Scotia. The ocean breeze kept the humidity at bay, and we were just coming out of the hordes of baby blackflies mobbing our faces every time we stepped outside. We’d discovered Nine Locks Dirty Blonde and donairs and the summer was ripe with possibilities.

One evening, my husband came home with a surprise for me. Limited time for Canada Day, he said. Might be good, he said.

Oh, Ketchup Doritos, oh sweet dusty red smattering crunchy nacho, oh perfect blend of flavours making my tastebuds sing. Oh, how many bags did I consume over the few months you graced us with your existence. Oh, how the local convenience store stocked you just for me, making sure to hide a bag under the counter if there was only one left, just for me.

I questioned if this was what heaven tasted like. I savoured every chip on my tongue, every crunch, every delicate sweet tightening of my taste buds. I knew this was a fleeting love affair, and I cherished it, knowing every bag could be my last.

Deep into August, when there were no Ketchup Doritos to be found, and Mr. Hurricane found a stray one at Walmart hidden behind some sweet chili heat, how old it could have been but I didn’t care, a delighted squeal on my lips as he presented it to me, the best gift a wife could ask for.

The following year, the first bags arrived at our local little store in June once again, the owner wearing a conspiratorial smile as I arrived and she pulled one directly out of the shipping box for me before they even got put on the shelves.

Another torrid summer fling with you, savoury crisp delight, ambrosia as I lay in the sun, surrounded by forget-me-nots and fragrant lilac blossoms.

Alas, I was lulled into a false sense of security, and the following June, ready to see you again, taste your nectar, I found myself in mourning.

There would be no more Ketchup Doritos. No longer would we celebrate our noble country’s birthday with sweet savoury crunch and elation. No longer would there be the majestic Ketchup Dorito alongside our poutine and maple syrup and Beaver Tails.

I took to the internet, hoping beyond hope that maybe they just didn’t ship them out to little harbour towns on the east coast anymore. Surely they still existed, surely they were still being made, a tribute to the best chip flavour in the entire world.

Alas. Ketchup Doritos were no more. Your fans everywhere lamented the loss, Canadians across the country crying as one. How I wish I would have saved just one bag, just one chip, how I long to have just one more melting on my desperate tongue.

But they’ve gone the way of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch, Tahiti Treat, and peanut butter/chocolate Oreos, discontinued but never forgotten.

I will never forget you, Ketchup Doritos, and my only regret is not appreciating you more, lulled into the seasonal expectation like egg nog around Christmastime. Every time I crack a Dirty Blonde I cheers to you, how delicious you were together, the Han Solo and Chewbacca of my pleasure receptors.

May you rest in peace, gone but never forgotten.

Love, Emily

Note: Peanut Butter Captain Crunch is still available in the US, I’m aware, every time my Uncle crosses the border he has a few boxes for me and my pops. Life’s little pleasures.

On ebay, today! It’s been years! And it’s not even a photo of whatever the actual bag is that they’re selling. SIGH.

Yes, it’s about time! Though the concept for Wildflower was incepted years and years ago, I didn’t start really fleshing out the characters and trying to figure out exactly how to say what I wanted to say until late 2022. Even then, I didn’t have the guts to start writing it until 2023.

Even then, I kept it to myself. In the throes of publishing burnout, I had to remind myself why I loved writing again. “Find the fun again,” as said.

And I did, I found fun, and a whole host of other feelings that came splattering out on the page that I’d been bottling up because I hadn’t been writing. I found a lot of things within myself and these characters who had been yearning to tell their stories.

Once I started serializing, publishing burnout struck again, as well as some other life stressors, and Wildflower sat wilting in the meantime.

I found my way back, though, and thanks to a whole host of cheerleading and squealing (and a whole lot of editing) from I was able to make it through navigating these characters and their trauma and hangups and goals and relationships.

Even finished, I sat for a long time with this book, massaging it here and there, rewriting a few things, poking at it. Making excuses for why it wasn’t time yet.

This spring I’ve been gearing up for BridgeCon thanks to Jude, and I’m all the way inspired. It was the kick in the ass I needed to take the plunge, and get Wildflower out there. And a huge thank-you to my supportive family for aiding in said kicking of my ass.

It’s always anxiety-inducing putting a story out into the world, like I’m letting people see the inside of my skull and waiting for judgement. Wildflower has been the worst to date, because I spent so much of my most vulnerable time writing it that it’s been tightly wound with…well, vulnerability.

Vulnerability plays a big part in the story.

Liliana is vulnerable, she’s on the run, she’s working illegally in Nova Scotia to stay off the radar. Her roommate kicks her out and she’s stuck, so she winds up at a local hostel run by two best friends, Iseul and Ambrose.

The hostel is kind of a ruse, though—they have a pay-what-you-want model, and take donations, so that they can feed and house homeless people. Lili is determined to not be a burden and pay her way, to try to help them instead of accepting help, all while not wanting them to know how hard her life is and what she’s had to do to survive.

Iseul grew up in the foster system, facing all kinds of adversity in the form of short-term living arrangements, changing schools, and being a small-in-stature male making him a likely target for bullies and predators. Ambrose has a terrible relationship with his military father, given that he didn’t want any of that for his own life. The two have been best friends since they were teenagers, and just want to help vulnerable people.

It’s just a giant soup of overcoming trauma and finding family and learning to accept help and trust people. A giant soup of difficult-to-deal-with emotions, scary ones to put out there.

But we overcome! Because Wildflower is coming on June 27th.

If you like angsty romance with cinnamon roll mmcs, a hot mess relatable fmc, open-door love scenes with healthy communication, and a wicked ride of hurdles for these three to fight through…you might be into Wildflower.

Advanced Review Copies are available on Booksirens, if you’d like a copy for free in exchange for an honest review.

Get your ARC now!

Preorders on Kindle are also live, but if you have Kindle Unlimited you’ll be able to read for free on launch day. And a lil’ secret between you and me, the paperback will be live shortly because I need to order a bunch for BridgeCon. So keep an eye on Amazon if it’s a paper copy you’re after. Hardcover (casewrap) and large print will go live on the 27th with the eBook.

Preorder Wildflower

Bad habits are hard to break.

And Liliana's worst habit by far is surrounding herself with toxic men. Now she’s alone and on the run, with a chip on her shoulder and nobody to trust.

She finds escape and solace working at an underground club where her identity is as fluid as her performance around the pole. That is, until her roommate kicks her out and she's left with no other choice than to move into the local hostel.

Where she meets her next bad habit. Or two.

Iseul and Ambrose, the owners of the hostel and long-time best friends. They’re kind, selfless, and too good to be true.

Liliana is determined to keep both men at arm’s length, unwilling to let herself be indebted to anyone. Iseul and Ambrose are relentlessly patient, their own understanding of trauma giving them an edge in navigating those who need help. All they want is her trust, and to keep her safe.

They’re going to need that trust when her past finally catches up with her…

And demands retribution.

Wildflower is a standalone Canadian MFM steamy romance about overcoming trauma and finding family, HEA guaranteed!

Thank you so much to my Patrons for sticking by me, even with the massive hiatus in the middle of serializing this story. You mean more to me than you could ever know. <3

I had the absolute pleasure of chatting with on her podcast, Oh Fuck Yeah! and the episode is live for all! We talk about all things erotica, writing, and reading, and she also added a spicy excerpt from my book Choke Hold that you won’t want to miss.

Have a listen here:

Ruan’s Substack MMMMMF Excerpt and Embracing Diversity in Fiction: The Healing Power of Sex-Positive Storytelling with Author Emily S. HurricaneEp 612: MMMMMF Excerpt and Embracing Diversity in Fiction: The Healing Power of Sex-Positive Storytelling with Author Emily S. Hurricane. Excerpt from "Choke Hold" written by Emily S. Hurricane, narrated by Ruan Willow… Listen now18 hours ago · 2 likes · Ruan Willow

In the throes of all of the challenges in my life right now, I’m experiencing creative burnout. When this happens, I end up reading a lot more, and I keep my creative muscles flexing with short erotica. Smut is one of my safe happy places, and shorts give that finishing-a-project satisfaction that is a lot longer haul with novels and serials.

Patreon has a shop now, which means I’ve been able to move my epubs there, giving me a lot more wiggle room and freedom with my spicier backlist. I decided since I was doing a big shuffle anyway that I’d experiment with a smutty Substack, because why not?

Hence the birth of Hurricane After Dark. Each post is a separate one of my stories, and I’m going to be posting one a month to make sure I’m meeting some kind of writing goal while I’m working through the bullshit in the real world. My Patrons will be getting one a month as well (thank you for sticking with me even when I’m shit at producing, I love you all so so much!), and the Eye of the Storm tier gets the epub included with the subscription.

So HAD will be a paid Substack, with all the nasty bits behind the paywall. It’s $2.00 cheaper than the Patreon tier because these won’t be ebooks. If you want epub versions of these to have for your own, those are only available there.

This filthy little tale is free for anyone who wants to whet their whistle…

Hurricane After DarkWith Friends Like TheseEthan headed into the noisy club, the pulsing trance music thumping in his guts like a jackhammer. He’d never been a huge fan of dance clubs like this. There was no intimacy. Everything was so loud, …Read more5 days ago · Emily S Hurricane

And a brand-new novelette called Choke Hold will release to paid subscribers on Friday, April 11th, yay! It’s reverse harem, and required me to draw literal diagrams to keep track of all of the, erm…limbs involved.

If you’re curious about the kind of erotica I like to write, my CWs and Disclaimers page covers this. I’m always open to questions and comments too, so don’t hesitate to ask!

Hurricane After Dark CWs

So, what about this newsletter?

The Eye of the Storm (the newsletter, not the Patreon tier, why did I do this to myself?) will always be a free newsletter! I’ll still be posting articles and non-smut fiction here as usual, when I can because again, crushing burnout. Hurricane Reviews will continue like gangbusters because reading and listening to audiobooks is pretty much the only thing keeping me sane at all right now.

So if you’re interested in book ramblings and/or filthy smut, you know where to find me!

What do you do when you have creative burnout?

Hell yeah! I didn’t think I was going to make 30 books this year, because I had so much shit going on, however thanks to audiobooks and text-to-speech I had a lot of extra story consumption while doing other things. Story consumption also keeps me sane while doing other things, like driving or cleaning or running back and forth between old house and new house hucking heavy boxes.

I’m less concerned about the number of books, however, than all of the other juicy stats. I set a goal every year just because I like tracking things, but my favourite part of an end-of-year wrap-up isn’t the number of books, but all of the other fun stats that come with it! The Storygraph is so bomb for this, and always provides fun insights into what obsessions I had throughout the year.

I mean…everyone near me with ears knows that my current obsession is the Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir, pretty sure my husband tunes completely out anytime the name ‘Gideon’ passes my lips now.

However! My brain is like a sieve (I have two young kids and three work-at-home jobs and also am in charge of household shit so I can only keep so much stuff in my mind at any given time), so it’s fun to look back over my year and be like oh, OH, that was a fun read! and almost relive them over again.

Also I’m a stat whore. I just love charts and shit.

Behold, a beautiful chart!

If you’d have asked me before I looked at this what my most-read genre for the year was, I probably woulda said Romance or Horror. Of course, the way books are categorized on sites include multiple genres, so I didn’t realize how many Romances and Horrors also carried the Fantasy tag. But it makes sense, now that I’m thinking about it! Even the two fanfics on my list this year were in the Harry Potter fandom, carrying a Fantasy tag. It’s just funny that whenever people ask me what I like to read, Fantasy is never one that I say off the top of my head. It’s easy to forget that Fantasy is such a dynamic genre, not encompassing just High Fantasy.

Now that the word FANTASY has no meaning anymore (sorry for the word rep, , your red pen of doom is probably twitching right now)…

Romance is high up there, obvs, because I love love. I tend to enjoy high-heat romance that takes place during some kind of high-octane plot and worldbuilding. And even if a book isn’t pure romance, I am a sucker for a good romantic subplot. (See: Why I love fanfic so much…cuz when there’s no romantic subplot…well, ao3 is right there and has all the smutty ships I could ever need!)

I’m happy that my LGBTQIA+ is high, mainly because one of my goals this year was to read more sapphic fiction. We live in a wondrous age now where characters can be gay as fuck and not have to die at the end of the story, and I’m living for it. It still feels rare to find non-romance books with queer characters, though I’m discovering more and more that they’re out there and wonderful. I love to see characters that are fully fleshed out and have personalities that aren’t just ‘the queer character.’ 90% of my characters in my books are pan or sexually fluid, because I am and I exist in the world and I want my characters to exist in their worlds without sexuality being their whole fucking personality. \rant

Anyway, I wanted to read more sapphic fiction, and I found some awesome gems. And I’ll continue to ride that horse around the mountain into 2025.

*waves at @judemire*

So after all of this riveting pontification on genre, let’s talk about the best shit I read this year. Hopefully you’ll find something you either a) also love, and want to fangirl about with me, or b) want to read, then you can read it and fangirl about it with me! Yes? Yes!

This year I’ve broken down a few categories that I’m going to approach like awards. Because it’s fun. And I wanna. So, there.

WTF happened in June? My brain-sieve has no idea.

Thanks for reading The Eye of the Storm! Subscribe for free to receive riveting bookish content like this right to your email!

And the Award Goes To…Best Protagonist

The best of the best, the cream of the crop, my beloved…Gideon Nav. Sorry, Roland, but the heart wants what the heart wants.

This gorgeous copy gifted by my BAMF bestie, Emerald <3

This book had been on my TBR for a long-ass time. I finally took the plunge when poking around for books to get from the library. I was looking to save some cash and my eyeballs and read more paper books, and there she was.

I was totally enthralled, from the first fucking page. While the book is written in third-limited, it is still very voicey and Gideon’s personality shines through like a loudspeaker. She is such an engaging character with such a strong presence, and it’s almost jarring being in a fantasy/scifi setting. I’m reminded so much of Caine from Matthew Stover’s Acts of Caine series, because he’s got such a big in-your-face personality in a high fantasy world and it’s so. fucking. good.

And so is Gideon. I fell so hard for this book that I read it again almost immediately, after recommending it to a friend of mine. She was listening to the audio version, so I grabbed that version from Hoopla and we did a buddy listen. Not only was the narration incredible, but I picked up so many little things that I didn’t the first time around.

Lesbian necromancers in space is a great hook, but there is so much more of this story and characters and world and ugh. I don’t want to spoil a single thing. As of this writing, I’ve consumed the first two books in this series and cannot recommend it enough.

Best Antagonist

This one hands down has to go to The Eaters in ’s Patchworld Nova. I was on the front lines with this book on the beta and ARC team and absolutely loved being able to be along for the ride with this story as it took shape. (Thank you Jude, always an honour!)

When he first pitched me ‘The entire province of Nova Scotia gets abducted by aliens…and no, not just the people, the literal land’ I was all in, because as far as I know, this has never been done before. Super cool premise, and add in that it’s put onto a patchwork Dyson Plate with chunks of alien worlds? This is my favourite kind of sci-fi.

Anyway, the antagonist(s). The Eaters. Firstly, badass name. Secondly, an impossible force to fight. I love terrifying foes constantly breathing down the protagonist’s necks, forcing them through hardship just trying to get ahead enough to survive.

From what the characters understand at the beginning, The Eaters are a cloud of soulless, mindless somethings that devour everything living in seconds, leaving a path of lifeless destruction in their wake. This is so suspenseful and horrifying and gives the story a oh god hurry up keep going AAAA kind of feeling in the back of my mind and I love that.

Also of course, things aren’t always exactly what they seem, because Jude is a master of his craft, but I’m not going to spoil it for you. If you’re into sci-fi and aliens and weird shit, Patchworld is for you.

(I have to give an honourable mention here for Blaine from The Waste Lands. There are so many great antagonists in the Dark Tower series but he is one of the greats. I have expounded at great length in my life about my love for all Dark Tower things, and I wanted to showcase some of my new reads this year, however just had to give Blaine a nod because he will forever be one of my favourite antagonists in literature!)

Unhealthiest Obsession

is gonna say my unhealthiest obsession last year was the Locked Tomb series, but I argue that my utter devotion to Gideon is absolutely 100% healthy.

When I read Bloody, Slutty, and Pathetic, however, I was frothing at the mouth. Okay, not literally, but I ate, slept, and breathed that story. And when I got to the end and had to wait between the last few chapters I was clawing the walls with anticipation. I don’t do well with unfinished serials.

Bloody, Slutty, and Pathetic by WhatMurdah (now completed on Archive of Our Own) is an almost 200k word long Harry Potter Fanfiction. Yes, I shamelessly track and include fanfic in my reading habits. If you haven’t immersed yourself into great fanwork from your favourite IP then you haven’t lived, man.

Anyway! BSP is Dramione at it’s absolute best. It’s a post-war slow burn enemies to lovers with high angst and epic banter. It’s beautifully written, and indulgent as only fanfic can be.

And I bet Emerald will agree, probably now remembering how many times I sent her screenshots and screaming texts about this damn fic.

Most WTF Climax

I’m talking about the climax of the STORY, ya dirty animals.

I 100% chose this as a category specifically for Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut. I have been wanting to read Vonnegut for years. My husband and I are both huge Palahniuk fans and he’s been saying forever that I would love Vonnegut. I know this, but just had never taken the plunge for whatever reason.

In the summer, Halifax Public Libraries did this awesome program where they had bingo cards for adult readers. Alongside all of the kids programs, they gave out these book bingo cards to adults and teens and if you got a line or filled the card you got an entry into a draw for a swag pack.

It was super fun, and forced me to read some things I might not have picked up otherwise. One of the squares was ‘read a classic — whatever that means to you’ and so I asked my husband to recommend me his favourite Vonnegut because he counts as a classic to me.

Mr. Hurricane’s favourite is Cat’s Cradle, so I dove in. I quickly realized that Vonnegut’s writing is right up my alley, but also forced me to read slower. This wasn’t a book that I binged. I’d read a chapter then sit on my front step, staring out at the ocean and thinking for a while. I’d put the book down and pick it up the next day for another chapter.

Then the whole plot just went fucking insane and I binged the last third of it in a day. Because holy shit. I won’t spoil, even though the book is so old, but just in case you’re like me and have always wanted to read Vonnegut and never gotten around to it…just do it. His writing is intense and thoughtful and disjointed and nuanced, and the plot just goes batshit in the best way.

P.S. Just wanted to brag a little, not only did I fill my summer reading bingo card, but I also won the swag bag, which had a notebook and pen and mug and stickers and a book all in a pretty tote…pretty much everything that a reader loves to have.

Biggest Writing Boner

Writing Boner - noun: When writing is so good, so delicious, so resonant that I am near tears with the knowledge that I am present to be consuming it.

This is How You Lose the Time War by Max Gladstone and Amal El-Mohtar. Mouthful of a fucking title, but I don’t care. This book is by far one of the most gorgeous things I’ve ever read in my life. The writing is absolutely incredible and I was breathless from start to finish.

I have a really hard time talking about this book because it feels like I can’t properly encapsulate what it’s like to read it. Actually, a booktuber I recently discovered has the same problem and she made a video about it. You should watch that (and also subscribe, because she is a treasure).

When I read this book it quickly shot up into my favourite books of all time group (don’t ask, it’s so hard to actually quantify this). Just…just read it.

I’ll Be In My Bunk

This award 100% goes to A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment by Abigail Barnette. Don’t let the cover of this book fool you, it is a fucking delight of a read. If you’ve ever read a romantasy and were like ‘this isn’t filthy enough,’ then this is the book for you.

I am a long time fan of Barnette (penname of author Jenny Trout), and have read most of her work. She has a fantastic and engaging writing style, she’s great at worldbuilding and character development, and her smut scenes are just top tier. Tippity top.

You know when booktok is like ‘THIS IS SO SPICY OMG THE SPICEEEE’ and they’re all fanning themselves over how smutty a book is? Most of Abigail Barnette’s books would probably make them faint. (If you’re looking for the actual filthiest book I’ve ever read, check out Barnette’s My Brother’s Billionaire Best Friend on Yonder. I know, I know, her titles are very market-y but it’s seriously transcendent smut.)

Anyway, A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment is fantastically filthy. Decadently dirty! Pleasantly pornographic!

But also it’s a great story. The worldbuilding is amazing with deep lore and traditions. The characters are fascinating and well-rounded and have interesting arcs. The smut is diegetic and not just shoehorned in for pandering. Every scene drives the story and makes sense for what is going on, which is something that a lot of ‘erotic romance’ forgets these days, not properly earning that subgenre tag. This is erotic romantasy in it’s purest form.

So yeah, I took this one to my bunk.

Best Voice Actor

I didn’t listen to a ton of audiobooks this year because I dropped my Everand subscription to save a bit of cash mid year, however the ones I did consume were fantastic.

Frank Mueller is an absolute BOSS narrating The Drawing of the Three and The Waste Lands, Johanna Parker actually made Bill Compton sexy in Dead Until Dark, Kwaku Fortune and Carrie Hope Fletcher had the most beautiful chemistry in The Flatshare, but if you’ll forgive me for doubling up an award winning book here…this one goes to Moira Quirk for the Locked Tomb Series.

I have listened to a lot of excellent narrators (and DNFed some bad ones), but Moira Quirk is easily in my top three. She is fucking incredible and with such a massive cast in Gideon the Ninth I was floored with how clear all of the voices are. This woman is a star at voice acting.

I read Gideon the Ninth in hardcover first, and found myself flipping back to the character list at the front a few times midway because there were so many characters to keep track of. Until they had a bit more screen time and developed a little more, it was hard for me to remember who was from what house.

Obviously I had a better idea going into the audiobook because I’d already read it, but the voices were SO unique between characters that I never had a single issue of not knowing who was speaking or what house they were from. A friend of mine buddy listened to the audiobook with me, with zero knowledge of the series at all beforehand, and she was confused when I’d said I had a hard time the first time around. She literally had no problems at all because the voices were all so well done.

I listened to Harrow the Ninth while waiting for the hard copy to come into the library (still gonna read it again because holy shit what a crazy trip that was) and all of the new characters coming in were all fresh and new and holy shit, seriously. If you’ve ever been on the fence about audio, Gideon would be a great one to start with because the narration is so engaging. And it makes the punchy lines and Gideon’s killer banter hit so much harder in Moira’s drawl. GOD. I hadn’t thought it possible I could fall so hard in love with a character twice. XD

Huge cheers to Moira Quirk, she’s definitely one of those narrators that I would listen to audiobooks I may never have picked up just because she’s reading it. We’ll see what 2025 brings once I’m done with the Locked Tomb series!

And that’s a wrap!

I was going to do a Most Romantic, but it’s This is How You Lose the Time War and I already spewed my love for that everywhere. And I was going to do a like ‘best book’ or ‘MVP’ or something, but picking favourites is so fuckin’ hard! The Night Circus whisked me away with beautiful prose and so much magic and romance. Gideon yanked me out of reality and has not let me out of her grip. The Ogre’s Fairytale Bride sounded like it was going to be completely ridiculous and I ended up binging the whole damn series up to the serial currently on Patreon.

I love books. I love stories. And I don’t waste time on stuff I hate, so I always end up with all five-star reads that I want to scream about loving so much.

Below are a few in-depth reviews I did of indie novels last year, because I love promoting indies and you might find something awesome you want to read!

What did you read in 2024? And what are you looking forward to reading in 2025?

Let me know down below. <3 And happy new year!

Thanks for reading The Eye of the Storm! Subscribe for free to receive all of your favourite bookish content!

P.S. My most anticipated read in 2025 is House of Rayne by Harley Laroux, it doesn’t even have a release date yet but I am absolutely salivating for it.

Surprise! you asked for horror/romance, and at first I thought…in 500 words? Impossible! But I hate being told things are impossible, so I also thought…challenge accepted.

And here we are. A creepy and (hopefully) romantic gift for you.

The water didn’t lap, didn’t ripple. The air was frigid, but not so that it froze the inlet, where saltwater turned fresh. Flaming sunrise reflected off of the surface, a perfect picture unmarred by movement. The water looked thick in its half-frozen state, like syrup, like it would glob off of her fingertips if she deigned to scoop it up.

Tendrils of steam swirled up, the cold air creating mini-tornadoes as the morning rays attempted to heat the sea. Hundreds of ghostly arms gyrating and reaching for the sky, as if to escape.

Why would they want to escape, she wondered. Why would even the steam want to leave, if she were the steam she would blanket this place, cover it with her warmth and keep it safe.

But the steam didn’t know any better. Nobody knew.

Her love was here, in this syrup. She’d tried to stay away, tried to resist, tried to move on, but the inlet called to her with its siren’s song, beckoning her with a promise of embrace. How easy it would be, to plunge beneath the icy surface and stay there, let the pinpricks tickle her, numb her, release her sweetly into the abyss.

Stay away from the water, they said. You could slip in, they said. It’s dangerous, they said.

But her love was here. Her heart. The lifeblood pumping through her veins had no right to be on land, oxygenated, warm. Syncopated beats now, because her ankles were in the syrup, toes flexing against the rocks that whispered together so beautifully.

She breathed, lips whickering, her fragile useless body unable to stand it, but her love was here.

She wondered if her tears would freeze, if the salt would make her flesh even colder, if she could cry frostbite down silken cheeks. But there were no more tears, not in this place, not when she was so close, so close.

She could no longer feel the blood creeping its way down her thighs, from the carvings she’d made, lovingly crafting the symbols of their love into her flesh, the beautiful crimson marring her only outdone by the brilliance of the sky.

The syrup at her knees now, the rest disappeared, no calves nor ankles nor feet nor toes, the hungry sea swallowing them numb.

The surface bowed, doming, her love was here, here, drawn by her blood teasing the syrup, mingling in a swirling dance. Love’s maw crested, wide and slick and putrid with glittering teeth and she drew in a final breath as they closed around her, purpling lips curling into peace as love finally embraced her, piercing her body and soul in a euphony of pain and relief.

As love descended, all that remained was a vermilion swirl in the syrup, sparkling beneath dancing steam, and soon the water didn’t lap, didn’t ripple.

Make sure to check out all the other awesome gifts today! And a huge thank-you to for all of her support and help during this project. :)

Keep in mind everyone is in different time zones, so some of these might not be live yet! <3 Happy reading!

Emily S Hurricane - love (you are here)

- Glass Laugh

- A Christmas Miracle

- Onomatophobia - A Fable of Healing

- Scion

- The Father’s Gift

- Where There’s A Will

- Mr Fantastic

- The Ballad of Delyth

- Thoughts of a Killer

- Island of Solitude

- Holiday Gift Guide

- Makellan’s Christmas (with Cindies)

- Amid the Winter Snow: The Slaying of the Bells

- With Love

- The Fishwife

- Tweezers

- A Claus Encounter

Thanks so much to everyone who participated and shared and read and hyped! Hope you’re having a wonderful holiday! <3

Cheers, Emily