When this post is published, I’ll have already read Cara McKenna’s new Curio vignette. And I’m not saying this because I’m actually a creepy android from the future (though I wish I was. Or at least, I wish I was the lover of a creepy android from the future, as Ruthie Knox will attest). I’m saying this because I know what will happen on Wednesday.
The book will come out, and I’ll swear to myself that I’ll savour it. Because I love to savour books. I hate when they end. I do my best to stretch them out as long as possible. So it won’t seem like a hard task to complete. Maybe I’ll even save it for my holidays, next week.
And then it’ll get to half past midnight and I’ll have read it already. I know I will. I can savour a five hundred page opus. But I can’t make a bite-sized nibble last. It’s like a fruit pastille. That’s what Cara McKenna’s Curio vignettes are like. They’re gourmet fruit pastilles, coated in cream and doused with rainbows. And no matter how hard I try not to chew them, I always do.
I kind of hate Cara for that. But I love her, too, for giving me a new book every month. I lovate her. I lovate her so much that I’ve invented a new word, just for her and her writing of these little books.
Which I suppose is just a long way around of saying that you should immediatly go out and buy them. You can get them here:
And once you’re done getting them, be satisfied in the knowledge that you might have chewed, but it was chewing done on beautiful, quality erotica, written by someone who is not only supremely talented but kind, cool and supportive.
Win-win, if you ask me.