I’m tired of erotica all being the same.
It’s so hard as a steamy author to find images of non-white, non-women, non-skinny models for my book covers.
And there’s nothing wrong with that type of erotica. But go to the bestseller’s list on your favorite bookseller’s website, I bet you’ll see a pattern… and a lack of diversity.
For 4 years, I used Depositphotos because it was the “go to” source for erotica images.
It meant supporting actual artists.
That, I could get behind.
But when I filtered images the words “African American” “Fat” “Japanese” “Indian” “Disabled”... the results were slim to none.
Whether you like AI or you don’t, it’s been useful for bringing diversity to steamy romance books.
That’s one reason why I’m proud to use AI in my book covers.
Some people are anti AI, but they fail to talk about erotica in the lack of diversity in erotica and how AI is the easiest and most accessible way to diversity images literature.
My characters are fat, disabled, racially diverse, taboo, and feature often problematic women.
I don’t “write to a trope” or a specific gaze. Steamy books should be for everyone.
I’m Sydney Feron. I publish a book a day, and I fight for diversity in fiction.
What about you? Do you like diverse erotica books, or are you okay with lack of diversity in the genre?
Spoilers ahead
My most recent release, I Will Ruin My Dad’s Best Friend’s Life If He Doesn’t Get Me Pregnant, features a problematic japanese FMC.
It’s not even about having a breeding kink.
She wants power. And she wants to ruin her professor’s life.
He’s not all good, though. Professor Locke has an affinity for college freshman girls and has been intimate with almost the whole college freshman basketball team.
Sera? She claims to be the hero. She’s “just exploiting” a corrupt professor.
But she also wants power. And she’s manipulating him into having a baby with her.
Spoilers end
Here’s the full blurb:
I’ve always been told I’m too much—too bold, too clever, too dangerous.
They’re right.
I saw him standing there, my father’s best friend, my ethics professor, and I thought, he’s mine.
Not because he’s good.
Not because I want to save him.
But because I want to ruin him.
He thought I was just another girl in his lecture hall.
He didn’t know I’d already heard the whispers about his late-night “mentoring sessions” with girls on the basketball team.
He didn’t know I’d seen the way his smile sharpens when he thinks no one is watching.
But I knew.
And I made him notice me.
“Professor Wilder, can you help me with this? I just… don’t understand.”
I made my voice soft. Innocent.
He hesitated, but not for long. They never do.
It started with a touch—his hand brushing mine, the hint of heat in his gaze when he thought he could get away with it.
But this time, he wasn’t in control. I was.
I told myself it was just a game, but the stakes kept climbing.
Whispers turned to rumors, rumors turned to meetings behind closed doors, and soon the entire campus was watching our every move.
He tried to resist, but I didn’t give him the chance.
“Locke,” I said one night, alone in his office.
“If you don’t want this, tell me to stop.”
He didn’t.
By the time he realized how far I’d go to keep him, it was too late.
His reputation? Gone.
His job? Mine to destroy.
I told myself I’d stop when I won, when he was ruined and begging for mercy.
But now I’m carrying his baby, and I’m not sure if this was love, obsession, or just the darkness inside me finally taking over.
I’d like to say I regret it.
But the truth is… I don’t.
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