Jeremy Edwards has, in two novels and countless shorter pieces, managed to earn himself a spot as a master of erotocomedic fiction. The light, carefree but deeply affectionate way in which his characters interact with each other has become his trademark, and I'm hooked on it.
See, here's the thing: Jeremy can write sex. Delectable, naughty, and unbelievably arousing sex. He does it often. The Pleasure Dial is full of it. Despite how lust-inspiring his sex scenes are, though, I found myself rushing through (but never skipping, heavens no!) the sex scenes to find out what wacky, hilarious, delightful thing his characters were going to do next.
He writes clever, intelligent, highly sexual characters who are turned on by other clever and intelligent characters. There is this one lovely scene in which the protagonists go to visit a friend's home and have a hard time manoeuvring because of all the overstuffed bookshelves that line every wall. Most gratifyingly, good old Artie gets as turned on by seeing this as I do reading the description!
This is shorter than most of my reviews, and partly that's because I don't want to ruin a single thing for you, just go out and get a copy for yourself!
5/5 sexy cloche hats (and an extra feather for luck.)
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