Imagine waking up from a stimulating massage and finding yourself in a stranger’s bedroom in 1822. What do you do? What can you do?

All your skills, your expert-level understanding of work-arounds and pop-culture references? All useless. Your vast knowledge of the cyber-world is mocked by steam-age reality, and you can’t ‘predict’ the future because your recollection of historical happenings since 1822 is … unreliable.

You do have one asset, though – you’re a beautiful woman with a ‘pragmatic’ take on sex. In any era that will get a woman far.
Kate Thomason, twenty-first century healer, is snatched from an eight-handed clone massage in twenty-ninety-seven by H. G. Wells’ time machine. She awakes in Wells’ bedroom in eighteen-ninety-seven, wearing only the sheerest of peignoirs. Once she realizes what has happened she can only wonder why?

Whatever could Wells want her for? He tells her he can’t send her back; what shall she do in a world wholly foreign to her? Kate believes that the author/tinkerer has big plans for her.

A sexy steampunk adventure, first in a series of six.


Kate’s host H. G. Wells is intent on presenting his latest acquisition to his friends at dinner; to playwright Oscar Wilde, newspaperman Frank Harris, Professor Aronnax and others. Kate’s carefully scandalous bodice isn’t the only thing on the guests’ minds that evening; Professor Aronnax proposes taking the Nautilus to hunt for the Loch Ness Monster.

The gentlemen are all for the adventure. But what of Kate? Why would she risk such an adventure? What else is there to do? The only people she knows will be leaving her alone in London, and her healing skills might be needed on this expedition — which all agree will court danger. Surely her skill and modern holistic healing knowledge will serve the expedition well!

After a bawdy going-away celebration in a gentlelmen’s club all head off in pursuit of fame and the Loch Ness Monster – including a mysterious stowaway! The Nautilus cruises smoothly and quietly due to Tesla’s modifications and the men while away the passage in study, discussion, cigars, brandy — and trying to seduce Kate. Wells’ advances are easily rebuffed, but what should Kate make of the tall dark Scot commanding her dreams?

The boat is capable, the explorers eager and intelligent, the plan simple, but the Nautilus will be the only craft underwater, and even the most modern aether beams might fail so deep in underwater passages. An adventure would be incomplete without some troubles, the men even look forward to them, but nobody anticipates the bizarre trials awaiting them.

How could they anticipate the malevolent tricksters lurking in the shadows, fired by ancient grudges and ready to launch a fiendish plot! And who guessed that foiling that plot would take them in Tesla’s dirigible to Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee as they unravel a diabolical scheme for avenging ancient wrongs?

When all is said and done, just who or what awaits Kate in Caledonia and beyond in this strange old steampunk world?

To Find A Monster


When Kate Thomason was snatched from her twenty-first healing practice by H. G. Wells and his time machine in 1897 she found herself caught up in a hunt for the Loch Ness Monster, a scheme to topple the British Throne, and some eye-opening sensual experiences.

But that was all so long ago. Since then, she and her husband Doug Cameron have settled down near Loch Ness to run the fake Monster concession while settling into Scottish Highland life and trying to start a family.
Now Doug’s been called back to service by King Edward; Tesla’s tower in northern Ireland has been threatened by a criminal madman, and Doug’s the nearest and most experienced agent nearby.

What happens then sends Kate on a trip across Europe, to Constantinople and beyond, working to stop a criminal madman and retrieve a priceless book of ancient magic. In this journey she crosses paths with Winston Churchill, P. G. Wodehouse, Mata Hari, Arsene Lupin, Aleister Crowley, Nicola Tesla, Kemal Ataturk and George Gurdjieff.

Can Kate stop the charming madman? If she survives, what will she be like?


From the foot of Mount Ararat Kate travels through the Caucasus to George Gurdjieff’s school in Georgia in 1905. Or, almost all the way; just outside the campus the train is dynamited by revolutionaries. The injured are take to Gurdjieff’s school where his staff and students tend to their injuries, while planning the school’s celebration of their leader’s return.

Also on that train are Vladimir Nabokov, father of the famous author, and his son. Alexander Stepanovich Popov is aboard, working on his aetheric wave theories, trying to sort out a system using receive-send towers along rail lines to improve safety.

Just outside the school the hut of Baba Yar hides, Kate’s old nemesis Errol Koenig inside with his enormous black cat. What is he up to? What does he want? Does he lust for Kate? Or is there more occult power traveling the rails to St. Petersburg?

Perhaps – a party of three men, a Hindu mystic, a German strongman, and a Russian explorer, are bringing a powerful religious artefact to the Tsar of all Russias. Chance and catastrophe throw together these very different people with very different aims during the first Russian revolution.

Avatars of the New Age

Why Steampunk Erotica?

The tales of Kate Thomason were spurred by this fragment penned by my great-great-grandmother – with whose name I graced my protagonist.

“One night as Professor Weston and I labored late attempting to produce artificial cavorite and the professor made, again, a weak pun on trying to produce catamites. Somehow from there our distracted conversation wandered to the Society of Most Remarkable Fellows, about which we had heard whispers.

For his part, the professor inveighed against the injustice his lack of invitation signified; for my part, I tersely pointed out the very name of the society forbade my participation, a snub with which I was far too familiar. Weston groused about those gentlemen of lesser accomplishments who were members in good standing – his ready listing of their names and their attainments betrayed just how much grief his exclusion caused him.

I knew these men, some of them intimately, and none did I consider more than passably above-average. Bertie Wells, while a sometimes-intriguing fictionist, saw himself as a one-eyed king in the land of the blind. Chief among his duties was to exercise the droit de seigneur , the feudal right of the lord to a woman’s bed. In Berties case he saw it as an obligation, his contribution to improving the gene pool.

I loathed the fellow. Most of the others were little better; I knew well their reputations exceeding their abilities, their skills and energies exercised solely in self-promotion. Looked at in this light my exclusion was less a slight than a benison. Were I to be invited my acceptance would entitle me to what? Back- stabbing and butt-grabbing? No thank you!

This did set me to considering the historical mismatches of forward-thinkers and their societies through the ages.

Regarding Professor Weston’s social skills, and my own awkwardness which was rendered acceptable only because of my appearance and allure, I wondered what would happen if a future Kate Thomason were brought back to Victorian times, perhaps by Wells himself.”

Thus Kate Thomason, my great-great-grandmother became my proxy, a woman of twenty-first century thinking and knowledge sent to a land almost wholly foreign. I endeavored to remain true to actual chronologies, but admit to some fudging – a tension which incited fresh insights in my own psyche. Many of these were resolved, for both Kate and me, through various and sundry transgressions and affronts to contemporary mores.

Has it not always been so? Men and women pairing, grouping, groping at the next level in our evolution?

No longer did I concern myself with trivial indiscretions of time and place where my fictive world failed to mesh cleanly with history’s gears. Thus – any characters are not completely accurate, all accounts of events are surely misleading, and sensibilities likely anachronistic.

No, do not come here seeking insights into the past – come for entertainment, and perhaps a few questions you’d never considered before.