Sullivan's just an ordinary comic book artist -- excuse us, graphic novelist -- if there is such a thing as an ordinary graphic novelist -- who bought an old drawing table as a hell of a bargain. Who knew the thing would be enchanted?
Now, whoever Sullivan draws comes to life. One of his cartoons, a punked-out, warm-hearted sprite named Melissa, has almost fully integrated herself into the world and become Sullivan's best friend. It's her mission in life to find him his one true love, since he's given up on looking for Mr. Right or even Mr. Right Now.
Looks like she may have succeeded. The thing is, Sullivan doesn't know that Melissa's in love with him.
And Melissa doesn't know that Sullivan has feelings for her, as well.
All it takes is a little magic…
"4 Stars! If romance, love and lust shared by both men and women brings you pleasure, this book may make you wish you had Sullivan's artistic talent, or were that lucky girl next door."
-- Ginger Boucher, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
"4.5 Flags! The sexual chemistry was hot, hot, hot! Taking a look into the mind of this comic writer's head was interesting, fun and erotic all at the same time."
-- Tara, Euro Reviews
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
All It Takes
All rights reserved
Copyright ©2014 Willa Okati
An Authorized Excerpt
Internal time clock: Morning, possibly afternoon.
Recall of previous night's activities: Five percent.
Probability of alcohol being involved: Ninety-nine percent.
Potential for severe regret: Seventy-five percent.
Likelihood of hangover: One hundred percent.
Sullivan Whitfield groaned as he rolled over in bed. "Morning," he mumbled. "Morning already. Sun's too bright. Someone put it out." He thought for a moment, in the tangled lines that were all his brain seemed capable of processing, and added, "Scratch the last bit. Sun can keep on shining. Just not in here."
Why was it so bright? Oh -- blinds. Yeah. Closing the blinds would be a great idea. He'd take care of it, just as soon as he could move. Which, he thought, testing with a feeble twitch of the toes, would not be anytime soon.
He tried to take stock of his situation, and came up with the fairly depressing conclusion that he'd gotten spectacularly drunk the night before, failed to get laid, and came home alone to polish off the last of yet another bottle. Pickling my own liver, he thought groggily. Liver a'la Sullivan. Goes well with a side of cheap booze. Possibly wine. Was wine involved at any point? Liquor before beer, never fear. Beer before liquor, never sicker. What's the rhyme for wine? Wine all the time is plenty fine?
Sullivan summoned up the strength to wing a throw pillow at his annoyingly bright window. "No more wine," he muttered into the comforter. "No more wine, beer, liquor, whiskey, sour mash, or fruity girly drinks with the umbrellas. Aspirin. Medicine would be very good, if --" He swallowed. "I could get it down."
He was talking to himself again. Not a good sign, but when a man lived the kind of life he did, who knew what was listening?
"If someone's out there, help," he said, closing his eyes. "Be a pal."
Lying with his eyes shut, he heard the kitchen sink turn on, and then the blessed sounds of a glass being filled. Moments later, a cool tumbler of water had been placed on his nightstand, along with two small white pills.
"Bless you," he breathed, turning over to sip the liquid first, then carefully swallow the aspirin.
"You forgot to stay hydrated again," a voice chided him. Sullivan cracked one bloodshot eye at the vision in a football jacket, Crazy Joe. "No matter what Melissa and I tell you, you go out and get sloshed, then forget all of us. It isn't right."
"All of us?" Sullivan winced. "God, how many of you escaped the pages?" He peered blearily around himself. "Is my studio usually this much of a wreck, or did you help it along the path to destruction?"
"We didn't have to do much, trust me. All the same, you were the one who started drawing the orgy scene. Is it our fault if it got a little wild in here last night?"