The woman who went there.

“If you’ve ever thought ‘surely nobody writes that’ — hi, I’m Roxy, and I probably did.”

I write erotica with no ceiling on the heat and no lane it has to stay in. Fake engagements that get very real. Bosses who forget their own rules. Mountain men, monsters, the professor you shouldn’t be alone with, two people who were absolutely not supposed to become a three. Sweet and slow one week, filthy and fearless the next — because “a wide range” isn’t a warning, it’s the whole point. And the door? It was never even shut.

No fancy origin story here. I started writing filth on a dare, posted it under a made-up name, and watched total strangers stay up way too late arguing about my characters in the comments. Never looked back. I’m self-taught, shameless, and genuinely nosy about what turns people on — which, it turns out, is an excellent qualification for this job.

I write the stories I could never find on the shelf — the ones that actually go there, that don’t flinch, that treat “too much” as a target instead of a limit. One book became a shelf, and I still cackle out loud writing the good parts.

What you can count on

• Every book is a standalone. Start anywhere. No cliffhangers holding your feelings hostage.
• Explicit, consenting, adult. The heat is the point — and everyone on the page is a fictional adult who very much wants to be there.
• Range, not a formula. Sweet to filthy, tender to feral. Check the label, pick your mood, dive in.
• More stories are coming. Liked that one? There’s always something stranger waiting.

Off the page

Chronically online, wildly unbothered, and always taking requests. I answer reader mail, I read every review even the unhinged ones, and if you dare me to write something I will absolutely write it. The one place I spill everything first is the newsletter — because the algorithm can’t be trusted to tell you when the next one drops.

— Roxy

Join the list → Read a book