Love, loss, rejection, and doubt. Stories of ache and love from a queer trans woman in her thirties.

Love, Lust, Longing & Truth is the first book by Southern writer and poet Jennifer Kite-Powell with artwork by New York artist, Chantal Calato. The book is a collection of poems from the author's experiences living and traveling in Europe since 2009. The poems are short, short stories that cross the mutable lines between love, lust, longing, and truth in our lives. From one line verbal bricks like Condensed Milk, the digital dystopia love poem Artificial Intelligence and modern odes, Open Apology to Bukowski and DH Lawrence Hate Mosquitos, Kite-Powell bares all and lets you into her world with abandon, hiding nothing from the reader. New York-based artist, Chantal Calato's art for the book, brings the poems to life in original mixed media works that show the frenetic nature of emotion.

Reveals tales of sex and love from ancient Greece, Rome, and other Mediterranean cultures, offering insight into these civilizations' beliefs about contraception, bisexuality, cross-dressing, nymphomania, and erotic practices.

In this engaging and entertaining peek behind closed White House doors, bestselling author Web Garrison explores and explains the states of affairs that have often gone hand in hand with affairs of state. Illustrations.

This collection will take readers down memory lane--or on a first-time journey--through the various stages of lesbian love, beginning with the lingering looks through romantic emails to relationships and the ultimate pleasure. (Adult Fiction)

Organized in four sections – Inception, Longing, Chaos, and Epiphany – K.Y. Robinson's debut poetry collection explores what it is to want in spite of trauma, shame, injustice, and mental illness. It is one survivor's powerful testimony, and a love letter "to those who lie awake burning."

From the USA TODAY bestselling author of Sweet Thing and Nowhere But Here comes a love story about a Craigslist “missed connection” post that gives two people a second chance at love fifteen years after they were separated in New York City. To the Green-eyed Lovebird: We met fifteen years ago, almost to the day, when I moved my stuff into the NYU dorm room next to yours at Senior House. You called us fast friends. I like to think it was more. We lived on nothing but the excitement of finding ourselves through music (you were obsessed with Jeff Buckley), photography (I couldn’t stop taking pictures of you), hanging out in Washington Square Park, and all the weird things we did to make money. I learned more about myself that year than any other. Yet, somehow, it all fell apart. We lost touch the summer after graduation when I went to South America to work for National Geographic. When I came back, you were gone. A part of me still wonders if I pushed you too hard after the wedding… I didn’t see you again until a month ago. It was a Wednesday. You were rocking back on your heels, balancing on that thick yellow line that runs along the subway platform, waiting for the F train. I didn’t know it was you until it was too late, and then you were gone. Again. You said my name; I saw it on your lips. I tried to will the train to stop, just so I could say hello. After seeing you, all of the youthful feelings and memories came flooding back to me, and now I’ve spent the better part of a month wondering what your life is like. I might be totally out of my mind, but would you like to get a drink with me and catch up on the last decade and a half? M