Books for Contemporary Women and Adventurous Men.

AV Harrison Promotions

"Street of Broken People" ~ on Amazon Books ~ Autumn 2021


Ghost Chaser's 


Written by Emily Hill

John Doe

UI Designer

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Preview The Ghost Chaser's Daughter


Street of Broken People

Debut Novel 2010


  Felicia woke up to thoughts about who she was not going to put up with today, her fingernails clawing the air as she stretched.  

  Languishing in the soothing Los Angeles morning sunshine that streamed down from the skylights of her stylish 1930s apartment she thought hard.
  She loved the feel of the tangled sheets against her naked skin; wrapped like crumpled ribbons around her muscular thighs, her sculpted calves, the curve of her rib cage.

  It was as though she had danced with the black silk in her sleep, turning a willing partner over and over, rubbing her stomach and the mound below her navel against the smooth sheen.

  What's Next?  A lot happens -- a lot has happened  -- to Felicia in "Here Kitty, Kitty".  

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Page 19: First Love Scene:

 Don pushed her down onto the bed as Aileen reflexively wrapped him into herself with long, smooth legs, toned from years of dance.

  She held onto his slender hips, too shy to touch with her fingertips the driving force that within moments she would tighten her femininity around in pulsating throbs.

  He reached down with his fingertips and found the wet folds between her legs.

  Aileen moaned, deep and low, guttural, like an animal.  

  Encouraging him she released the wrap her thighs had around his torso and opened, much like a butterfly displaying the pattern of its wings. He bit and kissed her chin, curling himself into her.

  “Yes?” he asked, well past the point of no return for either one of them. She nodded urgently.

[Censored content.]

  Forcing her to fall into his rhythm. And they rode the waves together celebrating their brazen impulses, the celebration of life, and the flash of heat they both felt as he arched his back and cried out.

  There was no cigarette moment afterward. No embers glowed in a dusk lit room as they shared long draws from a hand-rolled cigarette.

  The scene didn’t include staring at the ceiling bantering Nietzsche back and forth as they rummaged through a box of cream filled chocolates. This was Long Beach City College, after all, not Stanford.

What's Next? A lot! 

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