Saturday, February 28, 2015

Fire Down Below - LIVE


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Dove Glitch is embarrassed about everything above her knees and below her belly button. When she has to fill a delicate, embarrassing prescription the last thing she needs is a sexy-as-hell (and brand spanking new) pharmacist behind the counter.

Johnson Fitzwell’s first day of his dream career also happens to coincide with the exact moment Dove needs her feminine meds filled. His glorious voice is way too loud–as in, he should be counting down the hits with Ryan Seacrest kind of loud. Thanks to Johnson’s handsome face and gorgeous jaw line, Dove dives headlong into her waking nightmare and asks for a vagina-scented cream.

How could she not fall for him? Dove's only active goal now is to get Johnson to kiss her right on the lips. Either set. However, his horrible girlfriend is one of many obstacles preventing her from making that fantasy a reality. When Dove defends Johnson in the most unhygienic, unconventionally gross way in the middle of a crowded restaurant, their tender, slightly tantric relationship is off to a galloping, farting start.

Each print copy of this book will be dipped in holy water by my mom, and glared at by my father as he purses his lips. Neither will help. So, drop your pants and turn to the left and cough. I hope you're not allergic to latex, because it’s time to fill your prescription. Anally.

Oh God. We’re talking about me being naked, in the shower with cooter cream. Please world, end. Kill me.
“I know it’s not soap. I just… if it’s scented… I can’t do scented. Flowers and stuff like that. Fruit-flavored soaps make… things… burnish.” She could tell from the peeks at his face Mr. Fitzwell had never stepped foot in bath and lotion store, wanting to try the array of fun fragrances. Nor had he purchased Peppermint Candy shower gel, foamed up his nether regions, and felt like he had dipped them in lava. Dove crossed and uncrossed her legs at the memory.
Mr. Fitzwell seemed concerned. “Okay, just a heads-up. It’s definitely not good to put any fruits or plant life near your genitals.” He made a V with his hands and formed his own pretend vagina in front of his pants.
Dove covered her eyes and tried to defend herself because now she could hear the sickly older woman beating her supporters with a purse.
Dove’s mumbling got louder with her embarrassment. “I don’t put weird things down… there. Just make sure that the cream’s vagina-scented. Just plain. For vaginas.” She kept her eyes on the counter. 

What on earth did I just read?!? Holy bat-$hit craziness! This one is so daring, only Debra would be brave enough to publish it. Her twisted sense of humor is written all over it. I loved every minute but I'm just as twisted maybe. You definitely need a good dose of crazy to completely comprehend and enjoy this for what it is. But don't let the flatulence and dick-smack turn you off. There is an underlying story being told here and it's surprisingly very good. The characters are wacky but you can't help it...they wedge right into your heart like a bad pair of underwear embracing your crack. I'm particularly fond of Duke. He may be brash and vulgar but he has a heart of pure gold. 

“You’re rocking the full monty? A fur bikini? A wheezing wildebeest? Well, I’ll be your fucking Hairy Plotter. Hold up.” Duke waddled around in his homemade craziness and returned quickly with a tube of what looked like lotion. “This here? I used it on my face. Seven minutes and I was slippery like a nipple in oil.” Duke pantomimed squirting a huge handful into his palm . “Just get naked, put it on your hand , and rub it the fuck in.” He rubbed himself over and over. 
“Duke! Snap out of it.” Dove rolled her eyes as he snickered at her. 
“Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention. I went ahead and did my balls and my ass crack, too.” Duke started doing deep knee bends. 
Please don’t tell me why. 
“I was hoping to decrease my shit - taking time — cut down on resistance and such.” 
Dove stuck her fingers in her ears and sang , “La , la , la.” 
Duke moved closer and shouted the rest . “My sac is like a set of fresh mozzarella balls!” He tossed the lotion at her , and Dove quickly caught the tube. “Seriously, bitch, don’t make a man face a jungle . It’s 2015 after all.”

The secondary characters are just as engaging and entertaining as the leads. The crazy antics from beginning to end keep you holding on for the next. I absolutely cannot wait for the next installment to see what Deb cooks up!


There are a lot of eyes in Debra Anastasia’s house in Maryland. First, her own creepy peepers are there, staring at her computer screen. She’s made two more sets of eyes with her body, and the kids they belong to are amazing. The poor husband is still looking at her after 17 years of marriage. At least he likes to laugh. Then the freaking dogs are looking at her—six eyeballs altogether, though the old dog is blind. And the cat watches her too, mostly while knocking stuff off the counter and doing that internal kitty laugh when Deb can’t catch the items fast enough.
           Debra has a smattering of books in a few genres. There are two in the Seraphim Series and three in the Poughkeepsie Brotherhood Series with a prequel, Poughkeepsie Begins in the near future. Fire Down Below is the first in the comedic Gynzaule Series. The second, Fire in the Hole, will be published in late 2015. The Revenger, a dark paranormal romance will debut this summer. And last, a novella called Late Night with Andres is special because 100% of the proceeds go to breast cancer research. (So go get it right now, please!) You can find her at and on Twitter @Debra_Anastasia. But be prepared...

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