Real life

July 16, 2009 | Real life

Just so you don’t think I’m making stuff up– at least, not all the time. ;) Here’s a link to a video clip of the SeaFair Pirates that just landed in my neighborhood.

WIP Wednesday

July 15, 2009 | WIP Wednesday

Awhile back, I’d read some author moaning about how her characters weren’t cooperating and I’d roll my eyes unsympathetically.

Not any more. Somewhere along the way my imaginary people got a whole lot unrulier. They talk to each other, acting like I’m not involved. They make decisions without so much as a by your leave. In short, they don’t cooperate worth a damn.

Worse, I’ve been very slow to catch on to this revolt thing. I keep trying to fit them into my well planned plots. Now, I’m racing along behind scribbling furious notes and fretting about how I’m going to organize this chaos into a coherent story.

How’s your summer going?

Teaser Tuesday

July 14, 2009 | Teaser Tuesday

Just for dangerously sexy fans, here’s an excerpt from Dangerous Secrets, coming this month from New Concepts Publishing….

Five years ago, outside Montego Bay, Jamaica

The sound of the loose soil hitting his mother’s plain gray casket kept echoing inside Sam’s head. Patsy hated dirt. She’d kept a clean house. He couldn’t imagine her resting peacefully beneath the ground.

At least, she was next to Pop. Maybe, it would be okay.
She’d told him that’s what she wanted when he’d arranged to bury his father. Patsy said she didn’t give a fig about the casket or flowers–all she wanted was to lie beside Tony for the rest of eternity.

He’d never guessed how soon he would be repeating the same gut-wrenching funeral decisions for his mother that he’d been required to make for his father.

He’d picked a light gray casket, because Patsy liked simple things. He’d ordered lots of her favorite yellow daisies. He’d asked the organist to play her favorite hymn, Amazing Grace. But, no matter how he tried to fix everything, the whole thing was wrong–so very wrong that it felt like nothing would ever be right again.

There’d been so little time to mourn Pop, and then, less than a week later, his mom. Both of them so dead–so fast–so permanently gone. He hadn’t been able to save either one.

Hell, he couldn’t even cry for them.

He made the trip home with no memory of how he’d gotten there. Yet, he was definitely home, standing at the foot of the main stairs, dry-eyed, not feeling a damn thing, except irritated. He was as itchy, as if an earwig were crawling along the back of his neck.

It was the music, coming from upstairs, the wrong music, a happy pop song that made him want to scream and smash things.

It was Caroline’s boom box playing. She hadn’t felt up to going to the funeral. He’d said he understood, but he’d lied. She was pregnant. What the hell did he know about pregnant women? Still, the music was wrong. She should’ve come to the funeral with him out of respect for his mother–out of respect for him.

She didn’t respect him. That wasn’t news.

Hell, right now, he didn’t think much of himself.

The singer warbled on from upstairs, the music rasping on Sam’s already rotten mood. He took the stairs two at a time, storming into the master suite.

The music was loud, but Caroline heard him,

She didn’t open her eyes, simply smiled a wicked, taunting grin when she spoke. “Is it too much to ask for you to knock?”

“Hell yes, it’s too much to ask. This is my house.”

She shifted, groaned softly, and spread her legs wider for whoever was licking her pussy. “I guess. Though, you couldn’t prove it by me. You’re hardly ever here.”

“You aren’t making this about me. Get the hell out of my bed,” he yelled, yanking the plug on the boom box.

Stopping the music had been a mistake. Now, the room was filled with her breathing and lapping noises and his own pulse thundering.

Caroline shoved herself more upright, pouting prettily. “You’re being mean to me.” The sheet slipped, artfully revealing her full tits. “I was so horny for you. Don’t be mad,’kay? Be a good boy, come on over here and give me some of what I need.”

Still mad as hell, he wasn’t interested in helping some other guy fuck her brains out. But, his cock didn’t seem to be on board with his decision about not sharing. It was already half-hard. “He has to leave then we’ll talk.”

“I wouldn’t cheat on you,” she said with wide-eyed innocence.

Except every chance she got. “Of course not,” he said dryly.

The saddest part of the whole sick scene was that her behavior no longer shocked him.

She flipped the sheet off the bed with a giggle. “There’s no other man.”

For once Caroline had been honest. The second set of legs were slim and attached to round little tush. The limbs were a dark golden brown and they definitely didn’t belong to Caroline. Neither did the dusky rose vulva, swollen and wet, peeking at him.

His cock stiffened to full attention, instantly ready to fuck the new cunt.

Maybe the girl felt vulnerable, because she turned over, exposing high, pointed, breasts with dark chocolate nipples.

His cock obviously didn’t miss the rear view too much–it grew even harder.

Caroline plucked at one of the new girl’s dark tips, provocatively. “Maya’s never been fucked by a man. I told her that you have a beautiful cock. Why don’t you show it to her?”

He wanted to. Hell, he wanted to show her how it felt, stretching her tight little pussy. But then, he made the mistake of looking at her face.

Her big brown eyes were wide with fear.

Clearly, the girl was terrified. His erection sank and slunk away like a stray dog getting pelted by rocks.

Caroline had used sex to manipulate him from day one. The woman didn’t have any moral boundaries. He’d never considered himself a prude, but compared to her maybe he was, forcing a woman–hell, girl–was not something he would ever do.

Temper surged, fogging his vision. He silently said a brief prayer. Holy mother of God, grant me one second of grace. For a few minutes, the anger left him.

He liked sex as much as anyone did. Hell, he loved sex. But this, whatever this sick game between him and Caroline was, it wasn’t about sex–not any more. It was about messing with his head and stealing pieces of his soul until he wouldn’t be fit to call himself a man.

Caroline got off on pushing his buttons. He understood that. But apparently, he still had limits because her latest stunt sickened him. He’d had it with her outrageous behavior and with her. The games ended now.

His anger had ebbed back in, making him speak with low deliberation. “I’m leaving. When I get back, I don’t want to find any trace you ever existed.”

She studied him through narrowed eyes as if gauging how serious he was.

“Do you understand me?” he asked her flatly.

“Yes,” she spat at him.

“That goes for your playmate too.”

The girl actually looked relieved as she scrambled out of the bed, and began retrieving her scattered clothes.

Caroline bounced to her feet, fists planted on her spreading hips. “You’re a fool. I’ve made every fantasy you ever had come true, and you’re throwin’ it all away just because you’re too much of pussy to admit you’re dying to get fucked by two women at the same time.”

“Shut up and go before things get ugly,” he said.

“You can’t just throw me out of here, like I was garbage. I’m your wife.”

“Don’t be here when I get back,” he flung the words over his shoulder on his way out of the room. Afraid that if he stayed there another minute, he might lose it and hit her because deep in his dark heart he knew there was some truth in her words.

If the girl had been willing….

Music Monday

July 13, 2009 | Music Monday

Just finished the line edits for Dangerous Secrets, working on the story takes me back Jamaica, mon…..

Sunday funnies

July 12, 2009 | Sunday funnies

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Six-pack Saturday

July 11, 2009 | Six-Pack Saturday

Six random things I like about summer–

1) Guys take off their shirts

2) I can read outdoors

3) Butterflies

4) Breezes

5) Sand between my toes

6) Thunder storms

What’s your favorite part of summer?

Fan Girl Friday

July 10, 2009 | Fan Girl Friday

Every few days, I choose a new book to read. Sometimes more often.

I don’t finish every title I start. An author gets a variable number of pages to enchant me.

Lots of factors go into whether or not I keep reading. Classics, award winners, and the highly recommended get more pages. But, they too get gently set aside if I’m not interested.

I read for two main reasons: information; and entertainment.

If I’m reading of information I’ll wade through excruciatingly dull prose to get to the data I’m after. But, if I’m looking for entertainment, then the book better grip me in the first hundred pages. And the only reason I’d give the story that many pages is if it doesn’t piss me off sooner.

Absolutely, the shortest road to getting me hooked is at least one sympathetic character. If your lead character is brave, good, cheerful, and beautiful your story is already in trouble. That paragon better get into hot water in a big hurry or I’m out of there.

Using a romance plot as an example, Ms. Wonderful meeting Mr. Right and living happily ever after is not a riveting tale.

Ms. Trouble magnet, inconveniencing Mr.-Up-to-his-hot-ass-in-alligators with an attitude has a much better shot.

Then there are the completely unfair, but mitigating, circumstances that make me read on–if I paid money for the book it will get more pages than if it’s from the library. If it was a gift, even more pages than if I bought it. I’ve actually finished books I wasn’t enjoying because dear friends gave them to me. If the author has written other stories I liked, she gets more pages to fascinate me.

How many page do you read of book you don’t like?

Real life

July 9, 2009 | Real life

From time to time, the business of writing crosses my thoughts. I’m clear about expense v, income, taxes, royalty statements–all the details of reporting and tracking those items the government needs to know about.

I’m good about the discipline side of writing. I work my butt off, telling the best story I can.

Promotion remains a gray murky area for me. Marketing is not one of my natural talents. If it were then I’d be making big bucks doing that. ;)

So far, the best marketing tool I’ve found is the writing itself. Back to that writing the best damn story I know how to write thing.

Having written a story I love is just step one. Finding an editor to take a chance on my story is step two. Publishing them takes a whole village.

The recipe for success is a pinch of talent, quarts of sweat, a heaping cup of persistence, and a generous dollop of luck.

I can’t control talent or luck, so Im sticking with sweat and persistence.

I’m grateful and humbled by the magic of luck that has graced a few of my stories. And I’m well aware that having one or more stories published guarantees nothing about future submissions.

So, it’s back to working on another story and becoming a better writer. :)

WIP Wednesday

July 8, 2009 | WIP Wednesday

A new story bubbled to the surface and took control of my mind. Really, that’s the only way I can think to explain it. And, I’m feeling superstitious and secretive about it….

Eventually, I’ll share–I promise. ;) For now I’m just praying that the characters keep talking to me long enough for me to get down a rough draft of their adventures….

Teaser Tuesday

July 7, 2009 | Teaser Tuesday

Pirate Rules is on the release schedule for September, which is still a ways away.
Kat Richard’s did the cover, and I love it.

Somehow a cover, especially a gorgeous one, makes it all seem so much more real. Don’t you think?

Dangerous Secrets is due out this month. Still no cover, insert nervous flutter.