how to buy my books

Under My Skin and Flesh & Blood are stories by queer indie writer A E Dooland (me!) which feature non-binary transgender character Min Lee.

Solve for i is a spin-off set in the Under My Skin-verse centering around Gemma, one of Min’s friends. Maths wiz Gemma Rowe has found the one problem her maths can’t solve: she’s fallen for her female & very heterosexual best friend.

For more info about the individual stories including blurbs and promo art, click here for Under My Skin , here for Flesh & Blood, and here for Solve for i.

To download samples and purchase these books:

Under My Skin: 

eBook: [Amazon | Smashwords]

Paperback: [Amazon]

Flesh & Blood:

eBook: [Amazon | Smashwords]

Paperback: [Amazon ]

Solve for i:

eBook: [Amazon | Smashwords ]

Paperback: [ Amazon ]

Audiobook: [ Audible ]

Godspeed: 

ebook: [ Amazon | Smashwords ]

…and heaps of other stores like iBooks, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, etc!

Sound interesting? Buy my books! Help me finance writing more big queer books for you! 😀

Buy ‘Godspeed’ as an ebook!

I had so many people ask me ‘about that ghost story with the lesbians’ that I decided to make it much easier to find! So here it is: Godspeed.

The ghost of a pious woman has some unfinished business she needs to complete, and it’s up to two heathens – a grumpy necromancer and her jolly berserker wife – to help her.

Many thanks, as always, to Benevolent Ben, a wonderfully generous patron who prompted me to write this story as part of the rewards from my 2016 Kickstarter with, “How about something about a necromancer getting annoyed at having to resurrect her berserker girlfriend after her heroic and tragic death in every second battle?” It was such a wonderful prompt that it helped me write this whole novella! 🥰 

Prompt: ‘Poisonous’ – 2k words

For a woman whose mother was a whore and whose father was presumably a sailor from abroad (or possibly the Friar, since everyone always said I had his ears), I came to lead an incredibly privileged life.

It started off not so well. As you can imagine, children were not exactly welcome in the whorehouse. I spent much of my childhood either under my mother’s bed while the springs above me squeaked and strained, or in my little bed inside my mother’s clothes closet, on top of her winter coat. To keep me quiet, she’d give me sweets—anything I asked for.

As a result, I can’t really say I wasn’t a remarkable child, but I wasn’t remarkable because I was especially sweet or pretty. I was remarkable because I grew soft and fat in a way none of the other children were. Their spindly legs poked out under their too-large smocks while I filled mine like a full sack of flour, huge and round. Their big eyes stared out of sharp, thin faces while mine were buried deep in my cheeks.

Everyone called me ‘Little Piggy’, but I didn’t care. They were just jealous of my sweets and the fact they went to bed hungry at night. In the end, those sweets were the best gift my mother could have bought for me.

Continue reading

Pool Party – Quarantine AU – Gemma/Mikey

Q: Would you like to read 500 words of Quarantine AU featuring which ship from Solve for i?

tumblr_cdd5b15d7d4792ae47e9df30dd3afa2b_620805e0_540

 

I’m not going to say it was because of Bree’s cooking, but it was 100% because of Bree’s cooking: my favourite bikini didn’t fit anymore. It wasn’t too small in a sort of cute sexy way, either, it was too small in a scandalous I-would-be-arrested-on-the-beach kind of way. My boobs (what there was of them) were literally at risk of breaking free of the cups at any moment, and the strap on my bottoms divided my middle like a sausage string.

I stared in dismay at my reflection. Why hadn’t I tried them on before quarantine?!

Continue reading

writing prompt ‘whoops’ and ‘dead’

It began with a thump.

I looked up from my laptop and around, surprised. It sounded like something heavy had fallen on my desk—a glass bottle falling sideways, or a heavy paperweight. Other than my laptop, though, there was nothing on my desk other than haphazardly strewn printouts of client accounts, a chewed-on pen and a stapler. For a moment I stared at the stapler, trying to decide if it could have made that noise somehow. Probably not. Perhaps I’d misheard the sound and it had come from outside, after all.

A few days later I was standing bleary-eyed at my kitchen counter at 7:10am pouring myself a coffee, when a carton of milk that was nowhere near my elbow flew backwards across my kitchen, hit the wall, and then spilt all over the floor.

Continue reading

In Defense of Calia Menethil

Before I launch right in, let me just put one big fat disclaimer at the beginning of this monster of a rant: I am a huge Sylvanas stan. I have her statuette. I’ve written a bunch of stories about her. I am hugely inspired by her and I think she’s a really interesting character with an interesting backstory.

I can be both a Sylvanas stan and be interested about the introduction of Calia Menethil, and I’m here to explain why.

Continue reading

[Femslash February 2016 Series Essay] I’ll never write a book with a sad ending. Here’s why.

[TW for mention of suicide]

Following the 2013 Tomb Raider reboot, I wrote 700,000 words in one year. I was consumed by such love for the Lara Croft/Sam Nishimura ship, I lived in a perpetual writing coma. If I wasn’t writing, I was thinking about writing, or talking about writing, or gushing about how much I loved these two women and what I was going to write about them. I loved their dynamic, their story and everything about them. Even though they weren’t an ‘official’ couple, there was no doubt in my mind that they loved each other.

I’d lie awake in bed at night and imagine the type of adventures they’d have; I’d imagine silly things I could write about while I was driving to work during the day. They were my life, my soul, and I can hardly remember anything about that year that had nothing to do with them.

In the second half of 2013, riding high on the success of a popular 130,000 word slow-burn epic I’d written, I was planning my sequel, another monster story that ended up being 234,000 words long. I’d spent a month plotting what I thought was going to be a great story. I’d consulted folks from the culture I was writing about, I’d done all my archaeological research. As for the narrative, I’d been writing a sort of remix of a bunch of the older game stories into the new reboot, and I’d plotted what I thought was going to be an amazing homage to the original Tomb Raider.

My concept? I was going to transform new Lara Croft—the Lara who felt, and cried, and loved—into the old Lara Croft: someone stoic and unfeeling, someone who distanced herself from everyone around her and killed without remorse.

I was going to do it by killing her best friend and soulmate, Sam Nishimura.

Continue reading