Books

Juicy Mangos will shatter your ideas of female innocence forever. Here, the smartest, sexiest literary writers are gathered to tell stories of women at their rawest and most intimate. Each of the seven stories centers around a holiday–from Valentine’s Day to Christmas–when these enticing characters slips out of their daily roles and take on new, daring personas: A married woman finds a back door to Eden where fantastical orgies force her to confront her true and dangerous desires, a historiographer experiences a lustful affair while wearing an enchanting antique dress as an erotic disguise, a sex-toy saleswoman takes on a business partner with benefits to boost her sales.

With exotic backdrops around the world and beautiful, complex characters, Juicy Mangos is sexy enough to keep you glued to the page. But like its diverse protagonists, the stories are smart and provocative and will leave you hot long after your touch on the page has cooled.

“Juicy Mangos is an amazingly well done collection of stories…not only a tantalizing read, but a deeply rewarding one as well.”

Oscar Hijuelos, Pulizer-prize winning author of The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love.

This collection has something for everyone: girl on girl, maid on stockbroker, naughty librarians, and more…” Daily News

“Fans of erotica with a cerebral edge will enjoy this collection because just like the mango, the stories are juicy.”
The RAWSISTAZ Reviewers

Excerpts:

From “Juan and Adela”
Adela started quickly gathering up plates and taking them to the kitchen. “Well, I’ll let golden boy here clean up, and I’m going to bed, I’m knocked out,” she heard Gabriel say. Then she heard his steps up the stairs.
For a moment, there was silence. Maybe he changed his mind, she thought, as she stood paralyzed in the kitchen. Maybe he woke up and realized “helping” a vieja like me is no way to spend Christmas.Then she heard the kitchen door behind her. Santo Dios. She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look at him. She just kept scrubbing ferociously at the plate, as if it were the dirtiest thing she’d ever seen. He stood behind her. She could feel the heat from his body. He brushed a wavy lock of hair off her neck and leaned into her. “I like you, Adela,” he whispered into her ear.
Adela’s whole body trembled. No one had been this close to her in four years. Had he known what she was thinking all night? It was ridiculous; she was old enough to be his mama. But she wanted him. She stayed glued to her spot, the dish frozen in her hand. He gently took it from her, placing it back into the sink.

From “A Kiss for Lares”
Maribel had what I needed physically. I just doubted whether she would challenge my mind. Always dressed in sexy power suits in big corporate chairs at the office, she exuded capitalist. She worked her way through college studying business and marketing without the support of any family. She was self-made and never settled for the safe way out. Aside from my detour with Raquel and a few other nameless chicas, when I hadn’t been at work, I’d usually been locked up with Maribel drinking her favorite, a guayaba and quinepa martini with Grey Goose vodka. As I gazed at my sexy Puerto Rican would-be novia, I thought, “Be careful what you ask for.” Maribel grabbed my hand, leading me toward her dining room table.
She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a fresh martini, which was beautifully surrounded by several mango slices, and served on a silver serving tray. I downed the drink like I hadn’t had a glass of water in weeks. Maribel just watched and then flashed her dimples as she poured me another, and I downed it, too. Suddenly, I forgot about wanting to be alone. I was at her command.
“Sit,” she said. I did.

Border-Line Personalities
Why, in the minds of most Americans, are Latinas still thought of as maids, seductresses, and booty-shaking salsa divas? 
Never before has the concept of Latina identity been more relevant. Also, never has there been a new generation of Latinas so ready to say what they mean and criticize the Latina generation that preceded them. Until now.

In Border-Line Personalities, twenty writers share their poignant and wickedly funny stories about fighting with their mothers, struggling with speaking Spanish, and dealing with the men who’ve done them wrong, among a myriad of other topics. In the end, each essay encompasses a different point of view, lending credence to the theory that no one can label any one item, idea, or person more Latina than the other.

“ 20 women share their honest and sometimes funny stories about fighting with their traditional mothers, struggling to learn Spanish and figuring out how to pass culture to their children….”
The Arizona Republic

“Told by American-born, English-first Latinas who are grappling with family, career, sex, and language, the stories are not for Latins only. Anyone can appreciate comedian Jackie Guerra’s hilarious tale of her long, strange trip through Hollywood, or Carmen Wong’s heart-wrenching essay on learning her biological father is her Italian-American stepfather, and not the loving Chinese con man who raised her.”
The New York Daily News

Excerpts
From “Just Us Girls,” by Michelle Herrera Mulligan
Excerpts:

From “Just Us Girls,” by Michelle Herrera Mulligan
It happened on a routine visit back from New York. Things had been strangely   peaceful all week. My mother had refrained from the usual comments about my weight, hairstyle, and shoddy “libertine lifestyle.” I even started to feel at ease as my brothers and I settled in for a night of junk television. But then she came out of her bedroom carrying a black, off-the-shoulder sweater, and shifted her eyes nervously as she suggested we go to the mall for a little “Christmas shopping.”
She asked me to try the sweater on. A surprise attack. I turned to meet my brother’s eye but he just looked away. I was on my own this time.
“Why do you want me to wear this?”
“Just be quiet and put it on, I don’t what to hear any of your mouth.”
“Mom.”
“You’regoingtowearitbecausewe’re takingglamourshotsjustusgirlstogether andineveraskyouforanythingand youcandothisonethingfor me.”
“No…but Mom. .Glamour Shots…” I said weakly, slowly backing away. 


Getting It Straight

By Carmen R. Wong

”Sone of eh beetch!” my mother spat as she slammed her palm down hard on the kitchen table. Din-ding-ding! Round One had begun. Two of my four sisters, sitting in silent support–Lola, the youngest, and Nina, the firstborn after me–flinced upright in their seats. I barely twitched. I was on a long-overdue truth-finding mission. I demanded to hear from my mother Lupe’s own lips who my real father was. And I was convinced the answer sat right in the middle of my face.”



Esos no sirven by Daisy Hernandez

My mother and tias warned me about dating Colombian men: “Esos no sirven.” They would say the same thing about the 1970s television in our kitchen. “That TV no sirve para nada. It doesn’t work.”
As a child, I thought that being married to a Colombian man would be like fighting with that old television. It didn’t get all the channels, but we made it work because it was the only one we had. We switched among the three channels it did get by turning the knob with a wrench. We spun the antennas in circles , and when pointed at the sink and the other out the window–past the clothesline with my aunt’s three-dollar pants–we found out it did work and we had the telenovela Simplemente Maria.