The Queen of Awkward Smutty Comedy Reigns Supreme—Again.
Oh, Georgia Rayne. You chaotic genius. Just when I thought nothing could top the gloriously unhinged fever dream that was Slurp, along comes Gulp—and I inhaled it in one sitting, laughing like an absolute maniac the entire way through.
Edith is back, baby—conscious, clueless, and as wildly inappropriate as ever. Fresh out of her coma, she wastes no time swooning over her professors and her questionably devoted nurse-slash-stalker (yes, still a thing), all while navigating the world with a level of oblivious enthusiasm that should be illegal and yet is… weirdly endearing?
There’s a certain magic to Rayne’s writing—a blend of smut, slapstick, and sass that shouldn’t work, but somehow does. She doesn’t just write awkward scenes; she sculpts them, polishes them, then sets them loose to wreak delicious havoc. You’ll cringe, you’ll blush, and you’ll howl with laughter. Again.
If Slurp was the literary equivalent of a shot of tequila you instantly regret but somehow still love, Gulp is the second round you absolutely didn’t need but enthusiastically demanded anyway. And I regret nothing.
Georgia, you absolute weirdo. You've turned awkward smut into an art form—and I am here for every gloriously uncomfortable second of it.