My first collection of short stories, "Strange Things Happen Here" is available in paperback and ebook.


The collection includes horror, erotica, fantasy, and science fiction. Some of the stories originally appeared in other publications such as Voluptuous Magazine, Dark Gothic Resurrected, and "Babes and Beasts: Tales of Lusty Shifters." Plenty of thrills, chills, and even some thought provoking satire.

Do they prance among

the falling flakes?

If their tits are really cold, then I bet their nipples are really hard.

Nobody in small town Red Fox, Georgia knows that Polly Swift's secret.


Not even his mother.


My good friend Marci Wilcox's four episode saga RED FOX, GA has been bundled into a single book. 


Get it now on Amazon.



Nothing brightens my day more than a great review. Eric Belky wrote the following review of "The Black Phoenix." He wanted to post it on Amazon but was rejected. Amazon changed their policy on who can post reviews, I'm not sure why Eric wasn't allowed to post the following review, but he was kind enough to send it to me so that I could share it here.  



"Fast-paced, fun, gritty, earthy, urban fantasy. French roasted (dark, bold and with a lot of bite) no cream, no sugar - just the way I like it. Kemp has created a wonderfully likeable protagonist in Mutt Davidson, full-time supernatural warlock and shape-shifter but also part-time DJ and laid-back dude about town. Set in a sort of post-apocalypse supernatural Atlanta made believable with a clever premise explaining how super-natural types come out of the shadows to control the day-time world of ordinary humans. Compares very favorably with Laurell Hamilton's Anita Blake series, but with more sex and violence - again just the way I like it. Despite being hard-boiled, the many sentimental touches show the main characters to have heart deep down as well as demonstrate Kemp’s obvious enjoyment in writing them. The cover art really ought to show hot-looking supernaturals in bold, menacing poses - because rest assured these are vividly depicted in the text, unlike a lot of purported adult-themed fantasy books out there that don’t fulfill the promise implied by the cover. I'm sure this small omission will be corrected in the 2nd edition."

Here is Chapter One of the latest Black Phoenix adventure:

Tales of the Black Phoenix: Loopy in Love.

The book is available on Amazon in both paperback and ebook.



Chapter One

I have no one to blame but myself for getting involved in K-9 Loopy’s quest. He’d fallen in love and asked me to help him seduce the object of his affection.
            “Why me?” I asked.
            “You get more ass in a week than most wolves get in a month,” K-9 said. “You get your dick wet so often I bet it’s wet now.”
            He was wrong. At the moment, my dick was bone dry. It was true that I got a lot of ass, but that was because I was a popular DJ and I owned the Black Phoenix nightclub. That was casual sex, a string of one-nighters. I was a total loser when it came to long-term relationships that involved the word “love.”
            Still, I agreed to help K-9. Call it a cat thing. I was curious to see who had won his heart, because for as long as I had known this werewolf the only thing he truly loved was marijuana.
            He was a connoisseur of cannabis. He could lecture for hours about the opposing benefits of Sativa and Indica plants. He was an expert on the planting and cultivation of primo Kush. He could create a bong out of just about anything. I could count on one hand the number of times when he didn’t reek of pot.
             What she wolf could have possibly competed with such slavish devotion to the magic herb? She must have been something truly magnificent to pull K-9’s head out of his perpetual cloud of marijuana smoke.
             “What’s the girl’s name?” I asked.
             “Venus.”

             “Where did you find her?”
             “Dawgie Daddy’s. You used to work there. I thought maybe you knew her.”
              I remembered a Starr, a Moonchild, and a Sunshyne, but not a Venus. That wasn’t surprising. Over two years had passed since I last performed at Dawgie’s club, plenty of time for him to have a complete turnover of strippers.
              “Guys to fall in love with the dancers all the time,” I said. “But remember that you pay them to take off their clothes and have sex with you. What you think is true love could be nothing more than a business transaction to them.”
               K-9 yanked the bong we were sharing from my hands and gave me a dirty look. He’d built the bong from a carrot, a coffee pot, and duct tape.
              “This is the real thing, you feel me?” he said. “I have fucked many bitches in my time, but with her it was different. We may have started out having a business transaction, but then we connected on a molecular level that was cosmic and revolutionary. Venus is my one and only.”
              “If you made a connection, then she must feel the same about you.”
              K-9 sucked on the carrot, the weed crackled, and the water in the pot burbled. He exhaled and I couldn’t tell if the tears in his eyes were from the smoke or his yearning heart.
             “I don’t know shit about how to treat a bitch right,” he said. “That’s why I need your help.”
            “Have you tried asking her out on a date?”
            I could tell by his blank stare that the thought had never entered his mind. Maybe I was qualified to help him after all.
            “That’s a good idea. I got to get some money first. I want to impress her.”
            “Actually, the first thing you should do is take a bath. I have found that women prefer a man who doesn’t smell like a dead dog.”
             K-9 sniffed his underarm and more tears came to his eyes.
            “Damn, Mutt. All this time, I thought that terrible smell was coming from you.”

Is that why their tits are so cold?

Do werewolves love snow as

much as dogs.

Do they stick their noses in it

and snuffle about?

Hard enough to cut glass.

I WONDER

Really, I'm just obsessed with tits.

Why do witches wear brass bras?

Do they write their names in snowbanks with the

blood of their victims?

Or is it because they commonly reside in frigid climates?

The Allan Kemp

I WONDER . . .