Boy, if there was ever fiction that a lesbian needs during a bed death rut or simply in need of some juicing up,   Thirteen Hours by Meghan O’Brien is the book I’d recommend to my good friends.

Disclaimer: Just know that I do not make any money endorsing the books that I review.  If I find a good book or author, I just want to share them with people because you and I both know how many bad ones there are out there.

If you are looking for an intellectually stimulating story or big epic romance, this isn’t the book for you.  Instead, go read Jeanette Winterson’s Gut Symmetries  or Radclyffe Hall’s  1928 Well of Loneliness. If you are looking for good ole American instant gratification,  simple and no-at all-straight sexy lesbian eroticism, revel in the sexiness that id Thirteen Hours.

Unless you are a hopeless dried up well, I guarantee you will be reaching for your partner, your favorite toy or your right hand within the first few chapters of the book.

There is no plot to give away other than its a prude meets stripper-who-is-actually-a-high-libidoed-veterinarian and they had sex happily ever after.

I have bought and read other OBrien fiction since and I must say this is the sexiest book of them all.